Chapter Text
Her paintbrush narrowly left a neat streak of green behind it. An artist’s focus was not to be detested, and this was a good case to show that off to the world. She wanted to put her all into this. For herself. She was allowed to be selfish every now and then.
Plain boy. That’s what she had called him at first. She was quick to judge, as she had learned that day. Another stroke of the brush, a bit of a darker line chasing the first. Remember, focus on what he made you feel.
They had met at the school, a clumsy greeting. He almost fell on himself as they approached the school’s testing grounds. She had stopped him with the power of her quirk, an awkwardly midair boy thanking her for the save. A laugh escaped her mouth.
She started to hum as she worked. A soft melody came from her lips, slowly spinning harmonies together. She loved being in this environment. Birds chirped outside the window.
She couldn’t remember when she had picked up painting; but she knew it was after she had met him. Maybe it was the way he scribbled absentmindedly in his notes. She smiled, the scratching sound of his pencils coming back to memory. He was muttering random things that only he could seem to come up with.
“I-I’m Izuku, Izuku Midoriya!”
It had started then. The first day of school. Kaminari had been walking alongside her, trying to woo her. But the minute she saw that hair, and heard that voice, she knew.
He had made it too.
That plain looking boy, who had single-handedly taken down the faux villain. His arm was broken, and she was watching him fall all over again. Falling for him, all over again. Her brush traveled on the white canvas, slowly filling it with paint. A shading mark, of all things.
“K-Kacchan!”
She let out a burst of laughter, pulling her brush back from the task at hand. I hated that boy. I was so worried about Bakugou and Midoriya, but I was glad to find out.
In their third year at UA, Bakugo and Kirishima got together. They had tried to keep it a secret, but once anything breaks news to Iida, it was over in terms of secrecy.
She hummed louder, pushing her brush against the blankness. She wanted to remove that blank, that feeling of emptiness. She pushed further into her memories, letting the brush travel freely as she did so.
They were second-year students at UA. The recent addition of Eri to the dorms, and Mirio to watch over her gave a morale boost to the students. Behavioral issues- Bakugou, calmed down quite a bit.
Another page turned in her memories. Izuku had come to her late at night once, asking about her quirk, and how high she could get with it.
“I-I can reach pretty good heights with it, why?”
“...You’re going to think I’m crazy.”
He flashed her that awkward smile that he had become famous for. That awkward smile that made her heart flutter like a hummingbird’s wings. Even just remembering it made her heart jump in her chest.
And so, they spent a majority of that night on the rooftop, in silence. He was staring at the stars, a notebook in hand. The scratching of his pencil. His handwriting. Her brushwork began to remind her of the sound, that scribbling that he seemed so fond of.
Presently, she pushed herself off of her stool, walking through her house. The easel was in the living room, and the desk he had used was in their room.
Our room? It’s not like he’s here, anymore.
She coughed into her arm. Even now, she could feel his arms wrap around her, rocking from side-to-side. She lingered in the warmth of the memory.
Once in her room, she staggered her way to his desk slowly. She hadn’t done this in a while. She didn’t want to hurt anymore. This was all the past, so now she had to let go.
The journal from that night, number 23. Pencils lay scattered in the drawer. She had peeked past his shoulder when he was writing it. She could still see his frantic writing. His hand guiding the pencil.
He was jotting down the positions of the stars. His pencil swirled on the page, marking out constellations.
“Uraraka… Can you help me?”
This had become a tradition for them. Every night, they would go up to the roof of the dorms, and stare into the sky for hours. She would point out new portions of the sky for him to jot down, the crystals becoming ever clearer the more he drew.
That’s it! That’s where my drawing and painting came from!
She started laughing again, and set the notebook down in the drawer. She covered her mouth with her right hand, the smell of paint evident on it. Not the smell of graphite, like his hands had been covered in.
Right. The painting. I need to finish that.
She returned to the living room, stepping carefully over mismatched shades of paint laying in containers on the ground. The stars were twinkling like they had those nights on the roof.
Those nights on the roof. That’s where she was. Locked in time on something of the past.
One night, they were sitting inches apart, their faces pressed right next to each other. She hadn’t realized it at the time, but she was leaning on his shoulder.
The training exercises of the day were beginning to wear down on her. All at once, she felt so, so tired.
“Deku, I think I’m gonna head to bed… which means you’ve gotta come too.”
He never glanced up from his notebook. He was writing like a madman, scattering the stars’ alignments.
“There’s… um… I-I don’t-”
Ochaco had cocked her head, pulling it off of his shoulder. The warmth she had gotten from being that close to him slowly began to bleed away.
“...What’s wrong, Deku…?”
“I-I just… I brought some sleeping mats. Because I don’t want to stop right now. O-Of course, if you don’t want to sleep up here, t-then we can go, but-”
Her head landed on his shoulder. Before he could even finish his sentence, she was out.
She had been out, anyway. When she came to, she was wrapped in a sleeping bag. Pillows were laid under her, including one supporting her neck.
Izuku lay sprawled out, with no sleeping bag on. A notebook was laying on his face, a pencil in his hand.
She remembered smiling warmly at him, and giving him the sleeping bag.
A year later, they were officially together as a couple. Like other couples, they tried to keep it under the radar. Kaminari snapping a picture of them cuddling together on the dorm’s couch ruined that.
Damn Kaminari.
Izuku had chased after him, the green sparks flashing with the use of his quirk. Ochaco had burst out in laughter, grabbing his arm before he could get very far. He had flashed her a questioning look. She mouthed the word, and he had obliged.
Stay.
She shivered at the lack of warmth in the living room.
His warmth was gone. It had hurt her so badly.
More strokes. She was getting closer to being done, but she wasn’t finished. The operations in the city after they became heroes.
They had started separate agencies, but it became clear to the duo that they wouldn’t be able to be separate in this field of work. Eventually, they had formed a joint-agency. The Green-Tea Agency, to be exact. It was a lively place, and was always giving them a sense of direction as heroes.
Of course, with the joint-agency, the rumors spread about their relationship. It was a shameful day, really. They were forced to come out on tv and tell the world that they were, in fact, in a relationship.
Their hero ratings soared.
Paintings had begun to appear in the agency’s building. Nobody knew where they had come from.
Except Ochaco.
When he had discovered her love for drawing and painting, it hadn’t taken long for him to get her a gift related to drawing.
“These are artist's gloves! They’re good for keeping your fingers off of paper while you work, or a drawing-tablet if you prefer!”
He had taken her hands, sliding the gloves onto her hands for her. She had hugged him, and ran to make him a painting to commemorate the occasion.
That painting was still hanging in their room, but the feeling of his hands was not to be found.
Tears were slowly beginning to drip down her face, landing on the now stained gloves. It had been years since he disappeared. She was supposed to be over him. This wasn’t supposed to happen anymore. Everyone else had let him go, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t believe that Deku, no, Izuku, the number one hero, would just up and disappear.
I… I can’t…
I… I can’t be this selfish.
That was what she had thought that night. Their last night at UA. She was laying in his arms, staring up at the stars. Eventually, she had shifted her view to his face, to find him staring at her.
His fingers moved from their position on her sides. It didn’t take long for them to find their way to her cheek. His fingers brushed to the back of her face. Her face burned in the moonlight. She wrapped her arms around his neck.
Their lips touched, and she had let some tears of joy out that night.
She let out a choked sob. The sound of it echoed in the empty space. Her chest heaved as she attempted to calm her breathing. At a turtle's pace, she regained her composure. The painting on the easel hung in front of her, and the image was remarkable.
It was exactly him. Everything she had ever loved about him, in front of her eyes again. The way his eyes gave away his caring personality, puppy dog eyes as she had called them. Those freckles that had driven her nuts back in UA. That light blush that would surround those freckles at times. That smile that had told her that everything was going to be alright. Perfectly him. It was so perfectly him.
It was so perfectly the boy that had inspired her to keep fighting for her dreams. To keep fighting for what she believed in. She believed he wasn’t gone. He couldn’t be gone.
Stars hung in the background of the painting. A starship was navigating those stars, they had joked about one day moving to them. ‘Captain Uravity’ and ‘Pilot Izuku’. They had built a spaceship float for a parade in their honor. The number one hero and the number three hero rode together at the top, holding hands for all to see.
The memories came flooding back all at once. Years flashed before her eyes. Every little piece of their lives together came rushing in a tsunami of feelings. Happiness that they had been together. Worry as to where he was now. Anger at him for not bothering to contact her.
She pushed herself up from the stool violently, and it clattered to the floor. Paint spilled on the floor. The cool, wet feeling met her feet. She didn’t care. This house didn’t matter.
Only he mattered.
Her frustrations spilled out of her eyes, once again with her sobbing. Just barely, she reached for the phone she kept stashed in her pocket. This was the last time. She would move on. She would be stronger than this, for him.
After all, this was all holding her back now.
She had instinctively pressed the buttons on her phone without noticing. The phone was already ringing by the time she brought it up to her ear.
“Ochaco, how are you? It’s been a while since you’ve reached out to any of us, kero.”
Ochaco looked back and forth between the canvas and the spilled paint, before formulating an answer. She knew how Tsu thought she would react. It was time to pull out a happy and bubbly girl that had been buried for two years.
Two years since he had disappeared. Let it go. Let him go.
“Yeah, Tsu, I’m alright! Do you have space for one more on your girls’ night this weekend?”
It took the frog girl a minute to respond, but eventually her voice reached Ochaco again.
“Yes, we do. Everyone will enjoy hearing from you as well, Ochaco-chan. We’re meeting at Jiro’s on Friday. I’ll send you the address, kero.”
“Thanks Tsu, you’re a lifesaver.”
“No problem, kero.”
The call ended with a ‘click’.
Her gloves hit the paint on the ground with two soft thumps. Absorbing the colors of the now mixing hues.
Her tears hitting the ground shouldn’t have been the loudest thing, but somehow in the quiet room, the impact of the tears against the paint-splattered floor was all she could hear.