Infinite static

chapter 12: aftermath (part:1)

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Denki awoke to the harsh light streaming through his curtains, the morning sun piercing through the haze of his hangover. He curled deeper into his blankets, the fabric a comforting cocoon that contrasted with the throbbing pain in his head. Last night felt like a chaotic blur; fragments of laughter, the bass of the music, and the unmistakable warmth of Bakugou against him. But what lingered most vividly was the memory of their kiss, a moment that felt both exhilarating and utterly mortifying.

Groaning, he pressed his forehead into the pillow, wishing he could erase the memory. "What the hell was I thinking?" he muttered to himself, feeling like an idiot for letting his feelings spill out so openly. The thought of having put his heart on display made him cringe. Had he ruined their friendship? The fear clawed at his insides. What if Bakugou was angry? Or worse, what if he told Mina and Kirishima? Denki grimaced at the possibility, his mind racing with scenarios, each one more embarrassing than the last.

With a heavy sigh, he finally mustered the strength to reach for his phone, feeling a wave of dread wash over him as he glanced at the screen. His heart sank. There were multiple missed calls from Bakugou, along with a handful of texts and a couple of voicemails. The notifications seemed to taunt him, each one a reminder of the awkward situation he found himself in.

Denki hesitated, his finger hovering over the messages. He knew he had to face the music, but the thought of hearing Bakugou's voice filled him with anxiety. What if he was furious? What if he wanted nothing to do with Denki anymore? After a moment of mental preparation, he opened the first voicemail, bracing himself for whatever Bakugou had to say. The sound of Bakugou's voice filled the room, a mix of frustration and concern that only amplified Denki's anxiety.

He pressed his hands to his face, feeling utterly lost. "for fuck sake," he groaned, wishing he could just disappear.

╰┈➤

Bakugou spent the remainder of the night in a tumultuous state, his mind racing with worry for Denki. After he had rushed out of the bar, panic coursed through him. He had been too caught up in the whirlwind of emotions, and now he felt like a fool for letting Denki slip away into the night. He had no idea if Denki had made it home safely or if he was even okay at all. The alcohol had fueled his reckless abandon, but now it clouded his judgment, leaving him with a gnawing sense of dread.

When he finally arrived home, the silence of his apartment felt suffocating. He stumbled into the kitchen, pouring himself another drink, the liquor burning as it went down. He sighed heavily, leaning against the counter and burying his face in his hands. The weight of the evening pressed down on him, a mix of worry and confusion swirling in his chest. He grabbed his phone, hesitating before dialing Denki's number again, his heart pounding with each ring.

As he waited, his mind replayed the events of the night on a loop. The kiss. The way their bodies had moved together on the dance floor. The heat of Denki's back against his chest, the way his hands had instinctively found their way to Denki's hips, drawing him closer. Bakugou's breath quickened as he recalled the moment—the spark of connection, the thrill of the kiss that had caught him completely off guard. The worst part was that he actually didn't hate it. In fact, he had liked it more than he wanted to admit.

The memory of Denki's laughter, the way his eyes sparkled with mischief, intertwined with the sensation of their bodies grinding together, made Bakugou's heart race. He couldn't shake the image of Denki from his mind. It was infuriating and intoxicating all at once. He felt like he was losing control of his own thoughts, trapped in a whirlwind of confusion and unexpected feelings.

When the voicemail notification chimed, Bakugou groaned, his frustration mounting. He threw back the rest of his drink, the alcohol warming him from the inside, but it did nothing to quell the storm of emotions brewing within. He needed to talk to Denki, to understand what had happened, and to figure out where they stood after everything. As he sank into a chair, he ran a hand through his messy hair.

╰┈➤

It was now 10 AM, and Denki lay curled up in bed, cocooned in his blankets as if they could shield him from the reality of the situation. The remnants of last night clung to him like a heavy fog—his head throbbed with every heartbeat, a relentless reminder of his hangover. He didn't want to face anything today, not the bright sunlight streaming through his curtains, not his phone buzzing with notifications, and certainly not the weight of what had happened with Bakugou.

He groaned into his pillow, wishing he could simply disappear. The kiss replayed in his mind like a broken record, each replay twisting the knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach. Just as he was trying to bury himself deeper into his thoughts, his phone buzzed on the nightstand, jolting him from his stupor. With a reluctant groan, he reached for it, squinting at the screen.

It was a text from Bakugou: "I'm on my way to your apartment. We need to talk about last night. You'd better open up."

Panic surged through Denki, and he shot up in bed, adrenaline kicking in. "Oh fuck, oh fuck.."he muttered, his heart racing as he scrambled out from under the blankets. He had half a mind to hide and hope Bakugou would just go away, but he knew that wasn't an option. Their friendship was too important, and he needed to face this.

Denki rushed to get dressed, throwing on a hoodie over his rumpled shirt and pulling on some jeans. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and winced at his disheveled hair. With shaky hands, he tried to tame it, running a comb through the tangled mess, all the while groaning at the anxiety swirling in his gut. What would Bakugou say? What if he was angry? Or worse, what if he didn't want anything to do with him anymore?

After what felt like an eternity of frantic preparation, Denki finally splashed some water on his face and gulped down a glass to help quell the nausea. He leaned against the counter, taking deep breaths, trying to steady himself. Just when he thought he might be ready, a knock echoed through the apartment, sharp and demanding.

"Denki! Open up the door." Bakugou's voice rang out, firm and unyielding, sending another wave of nerves crashing over Denki. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the confrontation. It was time to face the music. With one last glance in the mirror, he made his way to the door, heart pounding as he reached for the handle.