2am Knows All Secrets [Kiribaku]

the forgiving night

Kirishima deserved better.

That was the real root of this problem. Kirishima deserved better than someone like Katsuki. Someone better than all those people in Kirishima's life that'd convinced him he was useless, that he'd never amount to anything, that it was futile chasing a pipe dream. Hearing about all of the pain and hurt those sorts of actions had caused someone he cared about, knowing he wasn't any better, knowing that he was million times worse—

So the fact that Kirishima still chose him and accepted him and loved him despite his everything about him kinda boggled Katsuki's mind.

Kirishima hadn't been there. He hadn't witnessed the worst of Katsuki's bullshit firsthand, and if he had, maybe they wouldn't be where they were today. But Katsuki trusted Kirishima, more than he'd ever trusted anyone. So he'd had no choice but to accept his affection and treasure it with a sense of reverence.

That didn't quash the guilt, though.

Things couldn't go on the way they were. It wasn't sustainable, but that was okay. Katsuki was gonna fix it. It was stupid that it took fuckin' Deku catching them making out in public for him to get all his affairs sorted, but whatever. He had to do this.

But first, a slight detour.

He wasn't stalling. He wasn't. He just had to clear the air of a few things first. If anything, it was a practice run.

When Katsuki entered the third-floor corridor, he was surprised to see Kaminari in it, standing in front of his own door, bag slung over his shoulder and a mess of library books and loose paper teetering in his arms as he struggled to get his keys out of his back pocket. Katsuki approached quietly, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched, something deep in his gut twisting away uncomfortably. He'd been doing fine around Kaminari and the others, Kirishima had told him so himself, but Katsuki still felt apprehensive. Now, he was on his own.

Kaminari was so caught up in his struggle that at first, he didn't notice Katsuki walking toward him. When he finally did, his face lit up.

"Yoooo, Kacchan!" he called down the hallway, jingling his stupid little keys as he waved.

Katsuki could feel his eye twitch. He'd probably have to have a talk with Kaminari about that nickname, for his own sanity if nothing else, but that could wait for another day. He jutted out his chin in a sort of half-nodded acknowledgment and took a few steps closer.

Kaminari let out a long-suffered sigh. "Ugh. Tell Kirishima to stop ditching me, would ya?" He then pointed at Katsuki. "You, too! Both of you! Seriously! You better quit it! Anyway." He readjusted the papers in his arms that were about to fall. "What brings you all the way down here?"

"Can we talk," Katsuki said.

Kaminari gave him a squinty side-eye, lips pinched in uncertainty. "...Just like that?"

"Just like what?"

Kaminari shrugged. "Dunno, just... No dragging me by my collar to some remote back alley this time?"

Katsuki huffed. Then shook his head.

"Okay, sweet, just, uh... Just making sure." Kaminari gave a nervous little laugh, then he pointed at his door and jingled his keys some more. "Right, yup, okay, gimme a sec."

He singled his room key out of the fuckin' jungle of anime girl keychains or whatever-the-fuck, and took a moment fiddling with the lock until it clicked. With a triumphant "woohoo", he pushed his door open and moved aside, granting entry.

Katsuki closed the door behind him, taking in the unfamiliar room with a sense of trepidation. Overflowing dirty clothes basket in one corner, overflowing trashcan with a concerning amount of energy drinks and canned coffee in the other corner, a dart board over the bed and a shelf by his desk displaying shiny sports equipment that looked like they'd never been used. Why were there so many hats? Did Kaminari even wear hats?