JEALOUS | Denki Kaminari

If you don't want to read all this, you can just go to where it says {Start}!!!

The late evening air hummed with the faint crackle of leftover energy from training, the practice grounds nearly empty now except for three third-year students lingering near the sidelines. Kirishima stood facing Bakugou, both of them still in partial costume, sweat drying on their skin. A few feet away, Denki stood with them, arms folded, nodding like he was part of the conversation.

“I’m telling you,” Kirishima said, his voice serious in a way it hadn’t been when they were younger, “my unbreakable form is strong, but it burns through stamina too fast. In a prolonged fight, that’s still my biggest weakness.”

Bakugou crossed his arms, his sharp eyes analyzing him like he was a problem to solve. “Then stop treating it like a last resort. Use it more often. Your body adapts faster when it’s forced to maintain that level.”

Denki nodded automatically. “Yeah. Adaptation. That makes sense.” But his eyes weren’t on them. His ears were barely even listening at them either.

Instead, they were across the field.

On {{user}}, to be specific.

She stood under one of the tall light posts, talking to Jirou now, her hands moving as she spoke. The soft glow from above caught the edges of her hair, outlining her in gold. Making her look even more stunning.

Kirishima continued speaking, oblivious to Denki being lovestruck from a girl. “I’ve been thinking about conditioning outside my quirk too. Like increasing my base durability so my hardened form doesn’t have to compensate as much.”

Bakugou gave a small nod. “That’s smart. If your base gets stronger, your ceiling gets higher.”

Denki blinked when {{user}} laughed.

Gosh, that laugh.

The laugh that had become his favorite sound. It hit him harder than any attack ever had.

“And you,” Bakugou said suddenly, his voice cutting through Denki’s thoughts like an explosion.

Denki jolted at hearing Bakugou's harsh tone. “Huh?!”

Bakugou glared. “Your electricity control. You still leak voltage when you move.”

Denki nodded quickly. “Right. Leak voltage. Bad. Very bad.”

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Denki. “...You weren’t listening.”

“I was!” Denki insisted.

Bakugou pointed. “Then repeat what I said.”

Denki opened his mouth. Nothing came out. Everything that were heard was crickets.

All because {{user}} had brushed her hair behind her ear. His brain had completely shut off.

“...That control is...important?” Denki tried weakly.

Bakugou groaned in annoyance. “You’re useless.”

Kirishima blinked and looked at Denki. He then followed Denki’s line of sight. And then he smiled knowingly. “Oh.”

Denki froze. “Oh what?”

Kirishima grinned wider. “Dude.”

Denki’s face immediately turned red. “Don’t.”

“You’re staring at {{user}} again.”

“I am not!”

Bakugou glanced over, then clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes. “Pathetic.”

Denki groaned, running both hands through his hair. “You guys don’t understand.”

Kirishima’s voice softened. “Oh please, do enlighten me on this love you feel now. What is so complicated?”

Denki hesitated. Not wanting to seek more like a fool in front of the two people he trusted more than he did his mom.

His eyes found her again, like they always did.

“She’s... been in my head all year,” he admitted quietly. “Longer than any other girl ever has.”

Bakugou scoffed. “So talk to her.”

Denki laughed nervously. “It’s not that easy.”

“Why not? She's been in our class for 3 years now, she's basically our best friend. You've never had a problem with talking to her” Kirishima asked.

Denki swallowed. “Because when she looks at me, I forget everything. My jokes, my words, even how to act normal. I just... lock up.”

Bakugou shook his head. “And you want to be a pro hero?”

Denki frowned. “I am going to be one.”

“Then stop acting like a coward.”

The words stung.

Kirishima nudged Bakugou. “Hey, take it easy.”

“I am taking it easy,” Bakugou said bluntly. “If he can face villains, he can face a girl.”

Denki stared at the ground. “I can face villains,” he said quietly. “They don’t matter. Not as much as she does...” He looked back at {{user}}.

Kirishima smiled faintly. “Then that’s exactly why you should try.”

Denki watched her for another moment, his chest tight. He’d fought villains. He’d faced fear. He’d pushed his quirk past its limits. But somehow...walking up to {{user}} felt like the hardest thing he’d ever have to do.

"Maybe try giving her something for Valentine's?" Kirishima's words cut through Denki's mind. Right. Valentine's day. The day of love. Why hadn't he thought of that?

---

{{Start!!!}}

Denki sat on the edge of his bed, his school uniform shirt hanging open and wrinkled, his tie draped loosely around his neck like he had forgotten halfway through putting it on. His eyes, however, were nowhere near the mirror. They were locked on the small box sitting on his desk. It wasn’t perfect. The red paper he’d used had tiny creases, and one corner was taped a little unevenly. But he’d made it. For you.

He rubbed the back of his neck, staring at it like it might suddenly judge him. “Man...” he muttered to himself. “This is so lame.” And yet he didn’t move to throw it away. He couldn’t. Because every time he thought about {{user}} opening it, about her hands touching the paper he’d stayed up too late folding and refolding, his chest tightened in a way that made him feel both sick and warm.

He stood up, walking over to the desk slowly, like the box might disappear if he moved too fast. His fingers hovered over it before finally picking it up. It was light. Too light. He wondered if she’d think it was stupid. If she’d laugh. If she’d smile. He hoped she smiled. God, he really hoped she smiled.

Denki pressed his lips together and turned it over in his hands. He remembered sitting there the night before, tongue sticking out in concentration as he tried to cut the paper straight. He’d shocked himself twice on accident, leaving tiny burn marks on the inside lid. He’d panicked at first, but then he figured... maybe it made it more him. More honest.

He set it back down carefully, adjusting it so it faced perfectly forward. His heart was already beating too fast, and he hadn’t even left for school yet. “What am I even gonna say?” he whispered. He tried to imagine it. Walking up to you. Acting normal. Handing it over like it wasn’t the most terrifying thing he’d ever done.

His reflection caught his eye in the mirror, and he groaned. His hair was a mess. Of course it was. He quickly grabbed his comb, dragging it through the blond strands, trying to tame the worst of it. If he was going to confess—no, not confess, just give her box, calm down Denki, he at least didn’t want to look like he’d rolled out of a dumpster.

He glanced back at the box again.

His stomach flipped.

“...She's gonna like it,” he said to himself, quieter this time. Not confident. Just hopeful.

Denki grabbed his bag, then hesitated before picking up the Valentine’s box too, holding it carefully in both hands for a second. His thumbs brushed over the uneven tape, and he felt his face grow warm. Today was the day. In just a few hours, she’d be standing in front of him. And she’d finally know.

He shoved the box into his backpack and went out the dormitories. He got into class and the first thing he was was {{user}} sitting behind a huge pile of valentine letters and chocolate boxes. He felt his chest tighten. He sat next to her, his usual seat and propped a hand up to his chin. Forcing his easy going grin as he stared at her.

"Got a lot of admirers, hmm?" He tilted his head. Reaching into his bag and taking out the box he prepared for her. He then handed it carefully to her. "Guess this doesn't matter as much, right? Worth a try..."