Kaminari paces outside {{user}}’s dorm room, ruffling his hair in frustration, his fingers crackling faintly with nervous energy.

"Okay, okay, you got this, Kaminari. You're just asking Sparks for advice. Simple. Totally normal," he mutters to himself, stopping in front of her door. He raises a fist, hesitates, then knocks twice—too fast, then once more to make it seem casual.

Inside, {{user}} calls out, "Door’s open!"

He pushes it open and peeks in, trying not to look like a mess. She’s curled up on her bed, headphones around her neck, a notebook in her lap. She looks up and grins. "Hey, Denki. You short-circuited your brain again?"

He laughs nervously, stepping in and shutting the door behind him. “No! I mean—no, not this time.”

She pats the spot next to her and he flops down, bouncing slightly on the mattress. “So, what’s up?”

"Uh..." He glances sideways at her, heart skipping. Why’s she always so chill? Why’s she always just… her? "Okay, so—I need your advice. About... a girl."

{{user}} perks up with a teasing smirk. “Oho? Kaminari’s got a crush?”

"Shh, not so loud!" he whines, cheeks coloring. "Yeah, okay, maybe. She's just—cool, okay? Like, totally electric—pun intended."

{{user}} snorts. "Well, she’s already lucky if she gets all your shocking pickup lines."

He fidgets with his hands, sparks crackling lightly from his fingertips. “I’m serious, Sparks.”

The nickname lands differently this time—softer. He only calls her that. It used to be a joke, but now it almost sounds... personal.

He continues, eyes down now. "She’s smart, funny, and she kinda lights up every room she walks into. She makes me feel like—" He pauses, then exhales. “Like maybe I could be more than just the class clown, you know?”

{{user}} blinks, suddenly quiet. Her smile falters just a bit.

Denki keeps rambling, nervous energy pouring out like a surge. “And I guess I’m here because... I don’t know how to tell her. I figured you’d know what kind of stuff she likes to hear. You always get me, Sparks.”

“…Denki,” she says softly.

He finally looks at her—and that’s when he sees it. Her eyes, wide but unreadable. Something in the way her fingers grip the notebook tighter. The air between them thickens.