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spacegaywritings · 4 years

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Chapter 1 - Communication of Silence

ao3 link *clicky* masterpost link (contains ALL works - the last entry is CoS!) monthly updates until finished Logan and Virgil work at their university's library at the side of their studies. As Virgil calls Logan late at night, he knows something is wrong and decides to visit him - turn out this was a good decision. He temporarily moves in with Logan. Turns out there were so many things he didn't know about Virgil after all these months of working together. Analogical, minor moceit and ThRo. The warnings are for PAST THINGS and especially warned for in specific chapters! you CAN skip them

It was silent and dark as Logan was about to lock the library and go home. The lights shut and silence engulfing him, giving the place a ghastly yet calming atmosphere, he only realised the call incoming as his the display of his phone started blinking. It illuminated the the library like the our days and he was quick to speed up his steps as he walked back to the counter to gather his things.

Instead of leaving as planned, he took the phone and call, not minding the displayed name. It was probably his boss asking about whether he was done already or maybe write something up, grab a thing before leaving because Logan was trusted with these tasks and this information. As the librarian pressed the phone against his ear as he picked up the bag he had brought with him, the black fabric weighing from his shoulder as he let it rest. But every expectation he held for the other side, everything around him and all his worries and plans suddenly dispersed into nothing but thin air as his attempted to prompt the caller.

All he heard was a choked back sob and his heart twisted painfully, his mind stretching like the universe as his thoughts spread into every direction.

‘’Virgil’’, he answered mindlessly and suddenly his mind was void. Every question and advice died in its beginning before it could even reach his conscience and he felt ready to cry, just hearing his co-worker pretending to not cry. Logan did not know what had happened but he was ready to battle everything and everyone that had caused this massacre of tears that were likely to fall from Virgil’s usually pale cheek. It probably was not pale right now. And honestly, the usual image in his mind of Virgil - curling in laughter, holding his stomach with one arm and hiding his smile and flushing cheeks behind his left hand - was blown away as the other must have received his lame attempt at prompting the conversation.

Virgil seemed dissolve into tears, the realisation of Logan being on the other side of the line gave him a feeling that released his fears and cries. Logan stopped walking. He was not able to focus on his usual way right now and after his hands had automatically locked the library, the nerd just stood before the building and tried it again.

‘’You hate phone calls’’, he stated weakly, his prompting helpless and he looked at his feet. If he knew where Virgil was, he would just come to him.

’’y-yeah’’, the other’s voice came. It sounded too calm and suddenly all tears and sobs were gone. However, Logan was able to detect the breathless gasps the younger student seemed to hide.

Why was he calling him if he could not talk? If he did not want to reveal what was up? All evening, Virgil had not texted him at all. Since they parted after his shift, he had not even heard a word from the other. Not even from social media.

’’Virgil’’, Logan tried again, a frustrated sigh following and he wiped the blank expression back into his face as he tried desperately to remain calm, ‘’can you breathe? Where are you right now?’’

Logan waited, listening intently. He did know that Virgil was prone to messaging him, blinking through tears and trying to breathe when one of his panic attacks overwhelmed him. He never told the science student why they happened or whether this was usual.

It happened to often for it to be a rare occasion. Virgil knew too many coping mechanisms and facts about panic and anxiety attacks to be new or strange to these. And he had only worked with him for about nine months by now.

‘’Hmm’’, the tiny male said on the other side and Logan could hear a sudden crashing sound in the back and a sudden, distorted yelp from directly next to the speaker. ‘’home’’, he tried again, voice sounding as if it was cowering to Logan’s feet and about to beg for help and protection.

It was everything he needed to hear. His body mechanically pushed into motion by the subtle call for something apparently only Logan could provide. Questions whirled in his mind as he speed walked around the corner and started walking to the street he knew gave home to his fragile yet mysterious co-worker.

‘’I am coming, Virgil’’, he mused, his voice sharp and sudden and he could basically hear him flinch as the breathing on the other side suddenly became thin and erratic again and Logan wanted to apologise for his words but there was no back. Not on his way nor on his track of words. ‘’I am coming to get you and you can stay with me. I want to know you safe.’’

There was nothing but a weak sound, akin to a whine coming from the other side of the line. He did not seem powerful enough to put up a fight as usual.

The line did not go dead. Logan stayed all the while and listened to Virgil’s breathing evening out.

Soon enough, he arrived and rung the bell at the door. The lights were on, scarring the night’s protective coat of the night and Logan pocketed his phone instead of hanging up. The half-giant waited patiently for a few moments before he heard steps and a shadow approaching.

To his surprise, not Virgil opened the door but someone else. A male stood before him, older and taller than Virgil but still shorter than Logan.

The man seemed insecure on his legs, the feet a little askew on the floor as if one had decided to go one way while the other had its mind on another direction and they just could not agree on one solution. His brown, neck-long hair was lacking in colour and almost looked like fallen ashes from a long-gone fire, his grey-blue eyes seemed distant and unfocused as he took in Logan’s appearance without a word at first, his empty mind desperately trying to grab a word, make up a sentence and ask why this man, this stranger, suddenly showed up at his doorstep in the middle of the night without a word. Every time he seemed to make sense of the scatter letters in his brain, he let let his grip on them slip again and all the effort was for nothing. His clothing was baggy and dirty and it reeked of alcohol. Behind him, a scene of chaos and dirt could be seen

‘’I am looking for Virgil’’, he stated, feeling oddly out of place. His voice was blunt and direct as much as his words but the underline seemed like the aftertaste of unpleasant medicine and a tone of ice could be felt. It was not the winter’s temperature that gave the man before him a sense that messing with the stranger who filled the entire door frame with his height was more than a lost cause and wasted try.

Logan was so properly dressed, so neat and tidy and not even a single strand of his hair seemed to be out of control, out of a special frame despite his fast-paced steps that had brought him here through the night. He was too good for this neighbourhood, for these houses that were more ruins and the street lights that have given up on life too long ago. This place honestly looked as if it had seen war and the buildings and street suffered from too much depression to try or really give any fuck of what was going on.

The man before Logan was just a sad representation of this place. But a thought tugged at him and it made his heart ache.

Virgil did not belong here. Virgil, bright and shy student Virgil with his dark humour and slow affection did not belong into a place that had given itself up, that had declared its own death as it lost hope in its own potential.

Virgil had potential and Logan would be damned if he did not try to help him and make his dreams come true,

The man before Logan - probably Virgil’s roommate? Maybe his father? He did not know - shrugged and pointed at the corridor behind him.

‘’’Little Virgil is not happy right now’’, he spat out as Logan passed him but the nerd tried to ignore him, tried to not shake and shiver when these words crawled under his skin and rubbed into him. ‘’Virgil was bad and he will be bad to you, too.’’

Stay calm, he told himself, Virgil needs you, needs you there for him and not make a fuss and break up a fight.

As he stepped further into the house, which was just remotely warmer than the icy air outside, he started noticing the foul smell everywhere, the mold creeping up the walls and turning the white walls into a piss yellow that faded into a brownish shade around the edges and corners. Dirt and trash cluttered the floor and there were glass shreds and red droplets. Pieces of wood could be seen there and they gave him the impression as if they used to belong to each other and Logan pieced the mental image of a dark brown old chair together that had given in under too much force.

Soon enough, but not fast enough for Logan’s taste and less in favour of his stomach and nostrils, he arrived at a door that looked stabbed and mistreated, just as abused as the rest of this house. But this one was Virgil’s door and seeing it wrecked and hurt just let him assume the pain it laying behind it, the misery it was shielding his sight and body from.

‘’Virgil, I am here’’, he whispered softly as he picked his phone up with one hand and knocked with the other, ‘’please let me in.’’

Hastily, before his mind could really grasp it, he added a more silent yes very much audible ‘’I am alone’’ and it turned out to be the ‘’open sesame’’ for the wooden shield that kept him separated from Virgil.

A few moments later, he heard a click to his ear and the call ended. His display shut itself after blinking the notification into his eyes with a purple light. He had purple lights assigned to messages from Virgil. Right after, the door’s lock made a heavy shoving sound, a dull and brazen sound that resonated in his chest before the wood creaked open and a slender hand pulled him into the unknown.

Logan was faster out of the corridor and in Virgil’s room than he had anticipated and now he was standing in a dark room, merely illuminated by the agonizingly white screen of a laptop that seemed to be next to ... a bed?

Logan could not tell but his dark blue eyes tried their best to adjust to the darkness around them and find some sort of orientation in this strange setting.

‘’Lo’’, the hand holding onto his arm seemed to whisper and he directed his attention to the small student before him, looking so small and tiny in the scarce light on the other side of the awfully small room. The bed was a singe sized and would probably fit up to five times into the entire room if every furniture was kept out and the floor was taken up completely.

Logan narrowed his eyes on the black cluster of fabric before him, the oversized hoodie sitting on the thin frame and wearing Virgil rather than being worn by him. The lack of proper light somewhat gave the librarian the impression that there was even more hidden than his co-worker seemed to let on.

But instead of asking, instead of making the other talk and force him into opening up, he simply opened his arms and gently tugged the tiny student closer with a loose grip on shoulder. Virgil flinched a bit at the contact and a soft sob broke from his throat but he easily followed the tug and fell into Logan’s arms with a relief that carried their weight together.

‘’Why are you here?’’

Logan gently rubbed over Virgil’s back, trying to calm him down as he shivered and sobs kept resonating in his body and making him shake and jerk his fragile bones in his co-worker’s arms who loosely held the student close. His voice sounded as if he had smoked a whole packages of cigarettes and strummed down his vocal chords like an instrument.

Logan just wanted this voice to be full of sarcasm and spite again, or even better, just laughing shyly and with a hand in front of his mouth to muffle the sounds of his joy even though it made Logan’s heart warm up as if these nice sounds ignited a fire within his chest to stay over and camp. Actually, Virgil had more than a campfire in his chest but rather a special place, a true palace compared to his actual living conditions.

‘’I am here because you called me, Virgil. I am not letting you stay here, do you understand?’’

His voice rang through the thin student’s frame and he let out a silent whimper before he gave a soft sound of approval before he started crying properly. The statement seemed to have broken any restraints within him that had him try to keep it together and not cry or anything.

However, now he was full on sobbing, his choking tears and desperate gasps like sirens to Logan and he carefully scooped him up and carried him to the bed to really inspect him and make it more comfortable for his tired feet and Virgil who must be more than exhausted after all the panic and crying he seemed to be through. After all, Logan had not been holding him in his arms but also up on his feet as he had embraced the shivering form of his friend.

A few steps and a few careful movements later and Logan stood before the bed, about to set the other down when Virgil seemed to realise what was happening and started moving in a sudden jerk backwards, his head snapping from Logan’s shoulder into a further distance and the two looked at each other as Virgil frantically tugged and pushed at Logan. The latter had no idea what was happening but the punk with the purple hair squirmed further until Logan carefully let him down again, putting him gently down onto his feet again and holding onto his sides as he tried to stabilise him. The librarian was not sure whether the other was able to stand without him after all, so he just wanted to make sure.

Virgil stood on his legs, seeming like a thin single stick poking out from the ground and bending in the slight breeze of the world. He carefully walked to the side and placed his sleeve-covered right over a light switch next to his bed and the hooded figure ducked away a bit, hiding from the light as the painful orange shine hurt his unprepared, honey coloured orbs.

Logan averted his gaze from Virgil to the bed to understand what was wrong and the sight made his heart quench painfully. Shreds of glass were scattered over the black sheets of the bed and tweezers laid by the glossy cherry that tainted the transparent edges and shreds of tiny pieces.

The elder turned back to the student and carefully cornered him as the other took as step back with every inch Logan approached him. It felt as if the shreds on the sheets might as well pierce into Logan’s heart as he saw his trusted and beloved friend squeeze himself into the corner of his wall and bed until the barriers of matter did not allow his legs to escape any further.

’’n-nu’’, he whined and Logan stopped, his mouth slightly agape. His blue eyes teared up and his gut twisted painfully as Virgil pleaded, begged him with his words and movements to not come any closer. To not hurt him further.

He was scared of Logan being angry at him, of him letting his anger out on him.

Of course, the science student would never do such thing but Virgil, in his panicked stance, did not seem to understand this. He was less than convinced.

Logan would just prove him wrong. If logic did not help, then empirical evidence would show him right.

The librarian shook his head and offered him a joyless, shallow smile as he pushed the corners of his mouth into an empty smile and his eyes seemed just as apprehensive as Virgil as he started crouching, never breaking the precious eye contact that seemed to bring the honey-eyed storm of emotions calm into a stillness of wind.

The stormcloud glanced at Logan and seemed less pressed into the wall as the giant lowered his height as he knelt down, one knee on the floor and the other following suit before he reached out with his hands to tug at Virgil’s sleeves.

‘’I want to make sure, Virgil. Is that okay? Please just nod or shake your hand. You do not have to talk if you cannot or do not want to’’, he asked softly and his voice lured Virgil into believing him and the light yellow of his eyes seemed to glow in a darker brownish, golden gleam as he nodded, allowing Logan to push his sleeves carefully up to his elbows.

The fresh cuts, deep and others shallow, along with some scars of several shades from fresh red to faint pink were revealed as he was left without the usual protection of his black and purple patched up hoodie.

‘’Virgil, this needs to be treated’’, he said sternly and carefully looked back at the bed. Tweezers, shreds. At least all cuts seemed to be void of the shreds that had caused the breaks in the skin’s tissues in the first place. His eyes roamed over the black sheet and soon found what he had suspected: sanitising solution and cotton pads. Something within him calmed as he realised he could probably treat his friend right here and there without problems and the day after still drag him to a doctor to make sure nothing would happen. Another part of him realised that this had not been the first time Virgil was hurt like that and had to patch himself up.

It also explained the constant appearance of Virgil in his hoodie and the need to be covered at all times. Logan was scared of imagining what other kind of injuries the other must have suffered from and for a moment, a seething flame of rage bubbled up within him as he realised that someone or even multiple people had to be the cause of this.

For how long? And why did Virgil never reach out for help?

Logan carefully pushed the student down onto the floor into a sitting position and grabbed the sanitising solution, tweezers and pats.

It was time to patch up his friend.

It took long, painfully long but Logan wanted to make sure nothing would get infected. But every time the cotton pads touched Virgil’s skin, the other would let out a weak moan or even flinch back even though he seemed to try his hardest to not move to much, Logan understood that the second burn of cleaning the mess of his pain just hurt even more and stretched the traumatising experience even further.

The nerd resorted to talking a bit as he wanted to keep Virgil’s focused on something other than the pain. He just wanted the young student to look less as if he was a big bad wolf about to devour him, the defenseless victim of the story. But it was less the case. Logan was more of the friendly giant who turned out to be more approachable than expected.

Actually, that was pretty much who he was. To Virgil, at least. Every other person saw him as nonchalant being or huge threat when they got on his bad side but this was not his calling right now.

All that mattered was getting the wounds clean and Virgil out of this mess and as the librarian started talking about the usual topics such as work and their friends Patton and Roman, the punk seemed to ease up just enough to sometimes mumble an answer or whisper a few comments.

It meant the world to Logan. It felt as if he was operating on a dying bird and every minute of life was a precious gift from the universe to him as a single person and he could not have been more grateful than in the moments Virgil trusted Logan enough to let him in, to touch and bandage his wounds and even talk back to him.

He would have early shift in the morning and it was only a few hours until then but he and Virgil were set on packing his things and leaving for good.

This night, Logan did not ask about how and why Virgil was in this situation. He did not press him into saying anything he did not seem ready to but he did patch up his wounds, cleared his bed and dried his tears before cuddling up with him and tucking him in.

Virgil was situated in Logan’s lap as the other trained his eyes on the paper before him and started reading the only book he had with him and the tiny room suddenly seemed to be in another world and instead of being caught up in blood, scars and unanswered misery, the two dove into the world of unraveling mysteries with the impressive deduction by Sherlock Holmes.

The arrogant character, albeit fictitious, made Logan smirk and erupted some small chuckles from the fragile frame of Virgil. He was not helpless anymore. He did not feel wrecked down by panic and choked on the pain of his hot and salty tears.

For the first time in forever, the punk curled up against someone’s warmth in this hellhole of a trap and he let go and did not cry himself to sleep but drifted off with a faint smile on his pink lips and a couple of slender fingers stroking over his hair as a melodic voice lulled him into Morpheus’ arms.

Soon, this would all be over. Forever. And the new start would be with his best friend who held him close to his heavily beating heart and the comforting heat of acceptance.

#Logan #ts logan #logan sanders #fanf #fanfiction #fanfic #fanficion #fanfic fluff #hurt and comfort #virgil sanders #vrigil sanders #joey writes

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silly-nonny-fics-are-for-fandoms · 5 years

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In my head

Bakukami week day 6 (Part three) : Cope/Comfort @officialbakukamiweek Summary: ’Useless’ Said a voice, ‘Kill yourself, no one will miss you. You can do it.’ Kaminari refuses to listen, but it tears him down day by day. Read on Ao3 MAJOR WARNINGS: Depression, suicide mention, near suicide attempt, suicidal feelings, self-loathing, mental health issues, therapy.

Kaminari's smile was brighter than the sun, especially to those he considered close. Ever since becoming pro heroes, that smile had only gotten broader and more vivid. He comforted children, helped lift the spirits of other heroes, raising awareness for the side effects of quirks both negative and positive.

He helped strike fear into criminals because a space they had previously thought their own, the internet and dark web, was invaded every day by his agency. They steadily tracked all sorts of websites, and with the help of electricity tearing down their cyber busts.

He had an alert in his transmitter in case of a hacker trying to get into one of a hundred secure networks, which would allow him to plug into his updated shooter and actively combat it with the keyboard there. The world was slowly becoming a harder place for villains to exist, thanks to his efforts with the help of his former classmates. But, with all the good he did, people were bound to talk. About him.

Because of his small stature and features, they often commented about how unfit he was to be a hero, fighting battles every day and his popularity, being in the top ten heroes alongside class A alumni, put him as a perfect target for weirdos and spiteful comments. Every day, new letters telling him to commit suicide, that he should shock himself permanently stupid for invading their internet even though it didn't harm the average user. Some, far more concerning, told him slightly inappropriate comments about how they'd like to have him in their beds, and what exactly they would do to him. When he didn't respond, they'd get more and more violent.

The worst letters, in his mind, were those telling him how much they wish he would get kidnapped and killed by villains because he was that bad at doing his job. Or that he was just a glorified battery, good for nothing other than keeping power.

Part of the responsibility of electric quirk users was to report to local hospitals during blackouts to ensure they'd have power, regardless of age. It was one of the few quirks which the user didn't have to possess a provisional hero license to use their quirk in a public space.

What made it bearable was when he'd receive a letter from someone he'd saved. There was a framed letter from a group of elementary school children he'd rescued, one whose heart he'd restarted after the rescue. He'd discovered their location by using his skills to trace the call the villain had made, and with the help of Ground Zero and Red Riot, everyone had survived the epidemic.

Except the child had been gravely wounded during the incident, and Kaminari had restarted her heart no less than three times in a ten minute period, Kirishima protecting the rest of the class, though Kaminari had used his waist cape to wrap the bloodied wound of the child he had taken care of. Bakugo restrained the villain, left in charge of making sure he didn't get away even if Kaminari had delivered the final blow.

Once the child had become stable enough, Kaminari had picked her up to continue monitoring her heart rate until the paramedics arrived.

Those moments, where he saw the smile of a child's face as he returned them to their parents, or heard their sobs of relief when he told them their child would survive, they made it all worth it.

But that didn't mean he didn't have times where he let the comments get to him, especially so when he didn't have work that day even if he was on call.

On days such as those, he'd curl up in his bed and do nothing, feeling nothing and his energy levels at such an all-time low that getting up felt like a task too big for him to accomplish.

Today was one of those days.

He scrolled through his phone, without a purpose or intention other than to drown out his thoughts.

'Useless.' It said, hissing, 'You are so useless, you could be doing something like training right now, but you are; lying here doing nothing. Lazy. Ugly.'

He turned up the volume on the video he watched, eyes glazed over in boredom. He knew he could be doing something, but he couldn't bring himself to get out of bed.

'How dare you call yourself a hero. A real hero would be doing something.'

A shudder came through him, putting his phone down and shutting it off, letting out a shaky breath. The memory of his most recent mission came to the forefront of his mind; a civilian had nearly died that day because he hadn't been fast enough despite his best efforts. That civilian was in the hospital, on death's door last he heard and it was his fault.

'A real hero would've saved him. Bakugo would've been able to save him. Midoriya could have. Any other hero could have saved him. But no, it had to be you.'

Kaminari gripped at his head, curling in on himself and facing the wall. Even if it was true, it couldn't define him.

'There's no point to you being alive. Their wounds are your fault.'

He forced himself to sit up, each muscle movement feeling like a toll on his body more than an entire day of work. Like he was dragging an extra hundred pounds in each limb. His gaze landed on the framed letter, a small smile shaking on his face. He knew it'd be short-lived, but seeing that letter always made him feel a little better, it's why he had put it in his bedroom.

'She has scars because of you. Ugly, horrible scars, because you couldn't save her before she got hurt.'

Kaminari started shaking, his body revolting against him and chilling from the nothingness he felt. He'd seen the tree-like figures on the girl's chest when he'd been asked to stay until the paramedics could get her stable, in case they needed to resuscitate her again. Those had been his fault. Extra electricity in the body caused those scars. His electricity. Forcing his attention away from the letter, it landed on the drawer of his bedside table where his medication had been placed. He should take it. He knew.

'But... What if you took all of them?' The voice said again, and Kaminari considered it. Why even bother with staying? There wasn't a point to it; he'd mess up again and make things worse.

'Should have done this back in high school,'

Kaminari didn't even realize he'd reached for the drawer until he saw that his medication wasn't there. Instead, a handwritten note.

"Denki, you've been out of it lately. Come to me to get your meds when you wake up." Short, sweet, and to the point. He knew who had written it immediately; only one other person was living with him, after all.

That pause was all he needed to start reconsidering what he had been about to do. Carefully, he put it back in the drawer with the other notes he had, from similar days when he'd been out of it. A small zap to his wrist, however, he didn't stop. The current ran through his body, buzzing and warming the cold he felt, even if it hurt.

At this point, he could barely feel the pain; he'd done this so many times. It almost came as a welcome feeling, which poured out of him from every crevice of his being. Relief, almost.

He thought about how Bakugo had reacted when he'd first found him like this, about how worried he'd been as he'd pinned him to the bed, arms apart from each other. Bakugo hadn't been so good at dealing with it back then.

He sluggishly stood up, making his way to the door as his hands drifted to his thighs, the shorts he wore giving him access to press the tips of his finger against the warm skin, running a new, stronger current through them. Once the door opened, the scent of bacon and pancakes came to him, warm and comforting.

The thought of eating made him want to throw up.

"Fucking finally," Bakugo grumbled from the kitchen, Kaminari coming up behind him slowly, "You get my note?"

Kaminari made a non-committal noise, grabbing a cup from the cabinet, "Where're my meds, Kacchan?" He asked, turning on the kettle and reaching for his tea.

"I'll get them for you once I'm done here," Bakugo didn't even look at him, his focus on the food he was cooking. It was enough for both of them, luckily, "And don't even fucking think of looking for the knives, I've locked them up."

Kaminari had almost tried before, and Bakugo hadn't taken to it well. He'd watched Kaminari like a hawk on days where he could tell Kaminari was out of it, a state he only allowed himself to go into when he didn't have anything else to do.

"Yessir," Kaminari mumbled, his left hand plastered against his thigh and the low-level shocks he delivered to himself an uncomfortable presence, but he couldn't make himself stop it even if he wanted to.

Bakugo served up what he'd been cooking, making Kaminari close his eyes until he got his medication. This was a ritual they'd done before, to ensure Kaminari didn't look for his medicine next time his negative thoughts got to him.

He felt Bakugo pull his left hand off of his thigh, putting four little pills into the palm of his hand as the kettle turned off, the temperature gauge reaching the highest point. "Food's ready, so come to cuddle with me or fuck off into your depression after you eat," Bakugo grumbled, heading over to the table with the coffee he had made.

The thought of warm cuddles helped to cut through his funk and Kaminari smiled, making his tea even if his wrists burned. With a swig of his hot drink, he took his medication and sat down at the table, his legs very happy since he didn't have to stand anymore.

Pancakes and bacon helped his thoughts, certainly, but one struck him mid-bite.

"Kacchan," Kaminari glanced at the other blonde, who grumpily looked through his phone's notifications, "Do I do enough as a hero...? Do I bother you?"

"Haah?" Bakugo scoffed, raising an eyebrow and leaning back in his seat, putting his phone down. "Is that what your fucking shitty thoughts are about?"

"Just answer the questions, please..." Kaminari looked down, his voice small and shaky.

"You do more than enough, Kami. Of course, you fucking bother me, but you're a ball of energy, and social interaction bothers me."

"Sorry. I'll try not to bother you." Tears brimmed amber eyes, hands fidgeting with the fork he held, and Bakugo growled.

"Fuck that! Keep being yourself; never change because of someone else's shitty opinion!"

"B-But you just said-"

"Do you think I'd willingly live with you if you bothered me that damn much?"

"Well, no.."

"Exactly." Bakugo took his plate and brought it over to the empty dishwasher, loading the dirty dishes into it, "If I have to fucking yell positivity and peace of mind into you, I'll damn well do it."

Kaminari couldn't help but smile and chuckle a bit at that, going back to eating his food.

"Thanks, Kacchan. You know, you've calmed down since high school,"

"What?! I'm always fucking calm, you electric headed idiot!" Bakugo flamed, his hands crackling and Kaminari's chuckle turned into a laugh as he finished eating.

"There's the Bakugo I know!"

"Fuck off and die!"

"But I was promised cuddles!" Kaminari could still hear the voice, but it was getting quieter as Bakugo's yelling droned it out. They fell into their routine, sending quips at one another and playfully insulting as they did the dishes and cleaned up from breakfast.

As soon as Bakugo deemed it clean enough, he dragged Kaminari over to their couches and asked what movie he wanted to watch. With a grin, Kaminari selected the Princess Bride, a movie Bakugo hated to admit he liked and Kaminari knew he could get away with it. When they watched videos, usually, Bakugo would choose the film or drag one of their other friends over. So, to help combat the depression, Bakugo let Kaminari chose whatever he wanted when things got to be too much.

Kaminari had already cuddled into what Kirishima had labeled his 'Sushi roll' blanket after Bakugo once forcefully rolled him up in it because Kaminari had been having a bad day and needed comfort.

Bakugo settled in next to him as the pre-menu ads for the DVD came up, snagging part of the blanket and holding Kaminari to his side, "You were in the news this morning," He said, staring blankly at the television.

"Really?" Kaminari looked up at the other curiously, head tilted cutely.

"Yeah, the dude you saved the other day has been released. Made a public statement about how thankful he was for you. And your freaking insistence on web protection helped Pinky and Tape face keep a night-school from getting attacked last night."

He'd known about the last part, even been called about it for assistance after getting off of work then, but he hadn't expected the news to pick up on it. He'd been the one to decode the message which had let them know what would happen when and where. He hadn't been able to hear about how the arrest went, so it was comforting to hear.

He nuzzled his face against Bakugo's arm, partly hiding it in the blanket, and sniffled.

"That's... Good. Good for them."

"Watch the movie or cry; you have two options here." Bakugo hit play on the movie, as the menu had come up, and Kaminari wiped away his tears.

It wasn't the best way of coping with Kaminari's emotions, nor even the best way to comfort him, but it worked, and if it didn't do as much as he expected, they had a library of romantic comedies and two tubs of ice cream in the freezer he could burn off at work tomorrow.

#Bakukamiweek2018 #Bakukami #Hurt/comfort #Fluff and angst #Kaminari Denki #Bakugo Katsuki #Depression #Suicide mention #Suicidal thoughts #Near suicide attempt #Based on real life events #Self loathing #Mental health issues #comfort #Cuddling #Pro heroes #Mention of Kirishima Eijirou #Please let me know if I need to tag anything else

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