MINIMAL [s.hitoshi & k.denki]

five

His purple eyes slowly blink open, odd because the thing he's laying on is super comfy; and his head doesn't feel like he slept on a park bench. It's a nice change though, as his head doesn't throb from an aching headache like it usually does.

Yet this isn't usual. So Hitoshi bolts up erect and almost frightened, because his clothes have been strangely changed and he's laying on a bed that obviously isn't his; because he doesn't remember owning a crazy abundance of Pokémon plushes and pale yellow bed sheets. He doesn't remember what he wore last night, but he is certain that it wasn't the conveniently fitted pajama pants and plain white shirt with the words 'i totally didn't committed arson' messily scribbled onto it.

His hands clench the blanket with fear and his eyes dart everywhere, because he must've been abducted, must've been captured, who did itwhodiditwhodiditwho-

"Oh Shinsou, you're awake!" Someone calls out, and relief floods his system like sand in an hourglass. "Are you well?" Someone sits on the bed.

Kaminari smiles at him kindly, "I thought you'd have a hangover, so I brought you a quick remedy!"

It's then that a smell hits Shinsou's nostrils; a savory scent that can somehow send the purple-haired man back in time, back to better days. It smells delicious, because Kaminari is carrying a tray of greasy bacon and meaty mess as well as some scrambled eggs, one buttered toast. Now that he mentions it, his stomach is gurgling and his body aches from whatever happened last night.

"That's.. for me?" It feels odd, to be the one receiving food. He's sure his hesitance is laced in his words, but his host is too busy spreading jam on another piece of toast.

"Yep, it helps me with my hangovers so I'm sure it'll help yours!" The blonde grins, "My uncle says that the greasier, the faster it works! Trust me, it's really good."

Even with the praise, Hitoshi can't find it in himself to pick up the fork, still and flooded with warning alarms because is it really for him? He isn't allowed to eat until someone says he can right? He can't touch it until he's given permission.. right?

He doesn't seem to realize Kaminari is watching until his fork is picked up. His eyes watch him carefully, paralyzed. Until it scoops up some of the eggs and bacon and his jaw is softly nudged up towards him, the fork prodding at his straight lips and the blonde's face carved into a grin.

"C'mon! Say 'ah'!" It's almost like teasing, but Hitoshi blushes and takes the fork for himself, snatching it and eating the food himself.

"I can eat it myself."

"Clearly not," Kaminari coos, "with actual analysis, you sat there for about 2 minutes."

Hitoshi ignores the blonde, slowly starting to realize how tasty the stuff he was stuffing into his mouth really was, since he starts salivating until the last crunch of toast. It's beyond good, and really felt like hangover food, because he feels upmost satisfied when he's offered a hearty glass of orange juice. It hits the spot almost perfectly.

"This.. is actually really good.." the insomniac admits, chewing on an apple slice.

"I know right!" Kaminari's grin is once again, so goddamn bright. "I'm uh.. what do the French say.. 'je suis un excellent chef'?"

Whatever Kaminari just said, Hitoshi can vaguely put together as one of his former classmates spoke an abundance of French.

"I assume.. you cook a lot." The blonde nods at Hitoshi's words, watching him drink the juice slowly.

"I grew up my mom and my sister, so they kinda relied on my to do the cooking." Kaminari looks off somewhere, "I learned a lot of recipes from their picky eating preferences."

"No dad?" The blonde blinks at Hitoshi's question as if he's made a mistake. Just as he's about to answer, a tune rings from outside the bedroom and Kaminari looks offended that he's been interrupted, but huffs.

"Your phone was blowing up last night by the way," Kaminari plucks the tray up and starts for the kitchen, "holler if you need me."

Hitoshi sits there, left with an unanswered question and his soul slowly instilling fear as he stared at the phone; cracked in the corner of the screen protecter and clear case giving it bulky protection. It vibrates and makes him jump, but it's only one of his clicker games asking him to come back and play.

From there he can already see the entourage of messages, all from the contact with a single heart emoticon.

Hitoshi picks it up from the charger, and lets his heart sink slowly as he opens up his texts and stutter on his breaths.

His phone drops onto the bed, and he holds his face in his hands and sighs shakily.

"She's going to kill me."