BNHA Oneshots

Silent Stories, Dutiful Draws

QnA: ask questions in the comment for me to answer at the end of an upcoming story
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Shinsou's favorite place on campus was the library. In the quaint little corner, on the large, velvet-red couch. Surrounded by walls and walls of books. The spruce wood shelves blended nicely with the warm yellow of the walls and the olive green curtains that framed the window. From the couch, if you looked through the glass, you could see the orange and brown leaves falling to the ground outside. Slowly... slowly... and all the way down until their descent was ended by a moss and leaf blanketed floor. On the couch, he sat, a cozy, grey blanket draped across his lap and a large book in his hands.

He flipped through pages, his calloused fingers running along the decorated paper with such delicacy that you would think he was holding an infant. He leaned back against the armrest of the sofa, hunched over slightly to read the book comfortably. His eyes flickered from word to word, the story building a picture in his head.

Shinsou spent most of his days like this, in that small corner of the library. People would come and go, none of them paying even an ounce of attention to the purple-haired male. None but one particular loud blonde...

...It was a chilly day. The clouds blanketed the sky, casting an enchanting white light into the warm-toned room. Shinsou was in his usual spot against the armrest and had, of course, a large book in his hands. As he flipped through the pages, he didn't give much attention to what was going on around him. That is until an unfamiliar voice broke his silence.

"Did you know that you spend five hours of your usual day in here?" The male's eyes peered up at the one who interrupted his peaceful reading. He raised an eyebrow at him, slightly annoyed at the loss of serenity.

"You counted?" His deep voice contrasted the blonde's higher-pitched one, and he looked over the other, wondering how on Earth he had a good enough reason to interfere with his reading.

"I've seen you in here every time I come," he made himself comfortable on the couch next to Shinsou, "and I got curious. I've been here for an entire week, just counting the hours you'd spend here."

"That's... a bit creepy-" he muttered, scooting away from the other.

The blonde only laughed, "I guess so. I'm Denki Kaminari, by the way." He pushed a hand towards Shinsou to shake. The taller male looked at the hand for a few seconds before understanding what he wanted. He took his hand gently and shook it.

"Hitoshi Shinsou."

"Well, Shinsou, it was lovely meeting you, but I've gotta dash. I have a class in," he checked his watch, "five minutes ago. See ya!" Shinsou watched as Kaminari hopped out of the window and ran away. He shook his head slightly, ignoring the soft smile on his face as he went back to reading.

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It had been nearly a month since that encounter and the blonde hadn't lied. Like he said before, every day he would come and watch Shinsou read. Sometimes he'd bring a book of his own, sometimes a sketchbook, and sometimes he'd just sit and watch. Shinsou made it a habit to move over around the time that the other would arrive, giving him space to sit on the sofa with him. They would sit on either end, facing each other as they did whatever they did, words being spoken only every hour or so.

When Shinsou finished a book, Kaminari would ask him about it, and every time the purple-haired man would reply "read it yourself if you want to know that badly." And every time he did. Eventually, Shinsou would start to read his books out loud, and Kaminari would always listen.

"So, what do you draw?" Shinsou asked one day. It was raining, the water hit the glass of the window and created a comforting white noise. The sky was a dark gray as opposed to its usual light grey or blue, and thunder chased after lightning every ten minutes.

"What do you mean?" The blonde asked, looking up from his sketchbook. He had the pad in his lap, his knees up so it was tilted towards him. A pencil was in his right hand, no eraser on the end. Instead, there was an eraser pen tucked behind his left ear.

"You bring a pad of paper with you here most days. What do you draw in it?" He clarified.

Instead of answering verbally, Kaminari turned the sketchbook to face the other. On it was a page with four sketches of the purple-haired male, all in different positions and holding different expressions. Shinsou's eyes widened, the other's talent surprising him. He closed his book, marking the page with a bookmark (he couldn't stand It when people bent the corners of the page it mark it). Taking the pad in his hand, he went to the very front of it and started flipping through the pages. There were sketches of cats and the cover of the books that Shinsou had read here and there, but the majority of the art was all of Shinsou. Shinsou sitting, Shinsou standing, Shinsou reading, Shinsou laughing. Shinsou, in his usual cross-legged position on the couch with the blanket half on him, and Shinsou looking out the window, watching the trees sway in the wind.

"I-" he is as at a loss for words. Though he never asked, he never knew how much the other drew. The sketches dated back to before he had even met the other. "This is amazing," he finally spoke.

Kaminari quoted one of Shinsou's books, "'The artist is never the important part, it is the subject of the art that is truly amazing.'"
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Word counts: 970
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Hello everyone!

I'm so absolutely terribly sorry for not updating in so long. I've had no motivation in such a long time, but I found this in my drafts and absolutely had to finish it!

I know this is a shorter story, but... I mean, I may or may not be interested in making it it's own series if you guys show a lot of love for this chapter...

ALSO

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 60k READS! You're all so amazing!! I also hit 11k on my KiriBaku story and 2k on my Voltron fanfics!

I love you, bye <3