((CREDITS TO @myheroacademiatxts ON TIKTOK))

Denki sat alone on his bed, the dim glow of his desk lamp casting soft shadows across the room. His guitar rested on his lap, his fingers fumbling through the opening chords of a familiar tune—your favorite song. The one you always hummed absentmindedly when you were relaxed, or that you sang under your breath when you thought no one was listening. But Denki always listened.

He messed up the intro again, groaning and dropping his forehead to the neck of the guitar.

“Ugh, come on, Kaminari… you’ve played it a hundred times,” he muttered to himself, then sighed and looked over at his phone sitting on the nightstand. No new messages.

His thumb hovered over your name in his inbox. You hadn’t responded since the tiny misunderstanding yesterday—something small, something that spiraled out before either of you realized it. He hated how distant you’d become since then. It felt like something vital was missing from his day, and it was. It was you.

He tapped out a message, then deleted it. Then tried again. His chest was tight. Finally, he just pressed the mic button and started recording a voice message.

“Hey, {{user}}… I—I’ve been trying to figure out the right thing to say, but maybe it’s better if I just say it from the heart.”

He paused, his voice a little shaky, but steadying as he went.

“You’re all I think about. Like, constantly. In class, during training, even when I’m just trying to fall asleep—I just keep thinking about you. And not in a clingy way, I just… I miss you.”

He glanced at the guitar and ran his hand through his hair.

“I even tried learning your favorite song. On guitar. Me. I don't even like practicing. I shock myself half the time just trying to tune it. But I did it—because it reminds me of you. Because it makes me feel close to you, even when you’re not around.”

Denki's voice lowered, softer now.

“I wouldn’t do that for anyone else. Not for any other girl. You’re… you’re different. You’re mine. And I’m yours, if you’ll still have me.”

His breath hitched for a second, and he swallowed hard.

“I love you. Not just the ‘puppy crush’ kind of love. I mean it. I love you. And only you.”

He held up the guitar again, strummed a shaky but mostly correct verse of your favorite song, then chuckled nervously.

“Okay, that was kind of bad, but hey—I’m trying. For you. So... I hope you’ll text me back soon. I’m sorry, {{user}}. Really.”

He ended the recording, stared at it for a second… and hit send.

Then he leaned back, eyes closed, whispering to the ceiling, “Please… come back.”