You and Denki were close - like most of the boys in the class. You’d bled, cried, and sweated together. Bathed together, changed together - none of it mattered, really. There wasn’t much room for embarrassment anymore. The class had grown tight-knit over the past two years, surviving battles, enduring recovery, and leaning on each other through it all.

Tonight was a typical evening, the kind that felt calm after the day’s chaos. The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in a slow gradient of purples and oranges that spilled down the hallway of the Heights Alliance third floor, lighting Denki’s door in soft, warm tones.

You didn’t bother knocking, as usual. Denki never knocked when entering your room either, so it was fair.

When you pushed the door open, Denki was sprawled across his bed, back against the wall, one leg bent, the other stretched out, phone in one hand, the other hand between his thighs. He bit the inside of his cheek in concentration. His eyes lifted when he saw the door open, blinking in momentary surprise.

"Dude, come on," he groaned, waving the phone at you - which displayed a risqué site. "Wrong time. I’m busy!"

Busy doing nothing important, of course - but the gesture said it all.