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Wednesdays.
Those are Mei’s favorite days of the week. It’s the very center, which means it’s the most overlooked. It’s the most average. It’s the least memorable.
Hatsume Mei likes Wednesdays because they give her the opportunity to seize the day, craft it into however she sees fit, and turn a boring, average Wednesday into a fun, interesting, brand new day. Her love for Wednesdays was superficial at best, but she still liked them and refused to let them go. For her, Wednesdays were the days interesting stuff happened.
It’s the day a girl roughly her age entered her mother’s mechanic ship with a motorcycle. She’s blinking, eyes cloudy before she shakes her own head and looks back at Mei with curious eyes.
“Hi!” Mei introduces excitedly. She keeps her eyes on the area in-between the girl’s eyes, just like her mother taught her. “Welcome to our Rotary and Repair shop! I’m Hatsume Mei, nice to meet you. What can I help you with?” she asks, bowing a little. Mom said that’s respectful—and Mei may be bad at that kind of stuff on her own, but she’s still trying. Customer service is vital for the survival of all businesses. The girl bites her lip.
“It makes a weird noise whenever I go to make a turn. It could just be the tires, but even then I don’t know how to replace them,” the girl looks stressed. “I heard from a friend that this place does good work. What’s the price?”
Mei moves her hands to toy with the chain hanging from her pocket. She licks her lips nervously. “Um,” she says, before straightening her back and smiling at the girl widely. “In most stores, one tire is 4,425 yen. Doubled, that’s 8,850 yen.” Mei doesn’t miss the way the girl’s face pales. “However! We are not most stores. And not all stores are as talented as this one, despite it being a little hard to find,” Mei says wryly. “I’m thinking around 3,320 yen in total. Does that work?”
Normally, Mei doesn’t give discounts. This girl could very easily be lying to her—but for some reason, Mei feels inclined to trust her. Usually, it would be a middle number, around 5,000 yen, but this girl looks desperate for something cheap. If this is her only way around, then Mei doesn’t want to be the reason she can’t use her only mode of cheap transportation.
“That sounds…” the girl is breathless. “That’s good. I’m Uraraka Ochako, it’s nice to meet you, too, Hatsume-san,” she says, smile rising onto her face. She bows, and Mei hurries to copy the gesture.
“It’s no problem, really! I love doing this kind of stuff—tinkering, building, breaking stuff and putting it back together—it’s a good stress reliever. For me. I’m good with my hands. And it’s helpful to others. So might as well. Um. I’ll check out your motorcycle to make sure everything’s in check, and replace the tires. That’ll just be 3,300 yen,” Mei says, knocking the last twenty off. Uraraka looks ready to protest, before biting her lip. She must really need this to be as cheap as possible, Mei thinks.
“Okay,” she agrees. “I leave her to you, then. Payment now, or…?”
Mei shakes her head. “Nope! I don’t get paid until I do the job I was asked to do.” That’s what mom said to say—good customer service is vital! Wait, didn’t I already think that? Huh, go figure. Uraraka looks at her thankfully, before holding Mei’s hands in her own fiercely.
“Thank you so much, Hatsume-san. You really didn’t need to bump the price down… but you did. Thank you.”
Uraraka’s eyes are shining. There are heavy bags, that nearly cancel out the lovely shine in them, and Mei suddenly understands what it means to be overworked. To have every bone in your body aching, desperate for rest, but not being able to do that. Uraraka’s hands are shaking in her grasp, she looks this close to passing out. It despairingly reminds her of Hitoshi. Mei has to bite her lip to keep from asking questions. Uraraka bows once more, before stumbling out of the shop and leaving Mei with her precious baby—her motorcycle.
Mei’s still gaping before she remembers to ask Uraraka for a means to contact to her, so she can pick up her baby when it’s done.
“It’s not fair, Izu-chan!” Mei mopes, wiping some excess oil off of her cheek as she follows him around his beloved flower shop. “This girl—she was so pretty. Her hands were real shaky, though. I don’t think she sleeps enough. Or relaxes, for that matter. She’s wound up so tight, she’s going to collapse one of these days.” she babbles. Izuku’s humming to some pop song as he waters flowers, but she can tell he’s still paying attention to her.
“My best friend is like that,” he says. “She never gets rest—she works here, then she works at a construction company, and then she has school to top it off. She actually lives with a friend, but she’s always out and about with her night classes so she can never get a hold on her. Once, I had to forcibly make her take a break during finals week—she hadn’t slept for two whole days! She worries me to my bone—”
Mei laughs. “Izu-chan,” she says behind a hand. “You do that during finals week. We both do that during finals week, and Hito-chan has to forcibly remove us from the library so that we don’t die of exhaustion. And you worry your mother to her last gray hair, so don’t even go there, mister-fought a black market guy who was abusing his daughter! You’re such a hypocrite.”
Izuku flushes. “H-Hey! That was one time! And it was only because you took me out to Takeyama’s the night before because you wanted to scope for some cute girls! Don’t start blaming that whole debacle on me of all people—I’m an innocent victim from your crazy schemes!” Izuku cries out, the watering can sloshing as he gesticulates wildly. “And it’s not like I could just leave him to do that to his own daughter!” Izuku adds. Mei just keeps on laughing but cuts her laughter off when the door chimes innocently, indicating the entrance of a customer. Mei’s seen the way Izuku nervously handles customers—a gentle, uplifting smile; the understanding way he approaches people he have no clue how to pick out flowers; and the overwhelmingly cute laughter and aha! noise he makes when he finds the perfect match.
Even Mei thought Midoriya Izuku was cute, and she was one of the gayest people she knew.
“Deku-kun!” a very familiar voice says from the door. Mei turns her head sharply—it’s her. It’s Uraraka, the tired girl with shaky hands and the brightest eyes she’s ever seen. “Oh! Hatsume-san, I didn’t know you knew Deku-kun!”
“...Deku?” Mei turns to Izuku quizzically. She knew Izuku since high school—wasn’t that a sore spot?
Izuku gesticulates under Mei’s rather intense gaze. “It’s not—it’s not bad anymore, I swear! Uraraka-chan said some encouraging words. It was a paradigm shift! Suddenly I was in control of my identity, you know? And Kacchan knows about me, I know about him… It’s complicated,” he explains without explaining at all. Mei just lifts an eyebrow at him, before turning back to Uraraka.
“Izu-chan and I know each other since high school,” she says. “I was in the robotics club, and I bumped into him while carrying the prototype for one of my babies, and he offered to help—no one ever did, since I was the high school crazy girl—and from then, we were friends! Then we met Hito-chan at a coffee shop, and from there it’s history!” she giggles. Uraraka nods distantly, before tying an apron around her waist and neck, and putting her hair up in a messy bun. There’s a streak of soot on her face, and it takes all of Mei’s self-control not to move to wipe at it.
“Alright,” she hears Uraraka huff, moving to the receptionist’s desk. “Deku-kun,” she calls. “When are we going to hire a proper receptionist? I swear, with only you, me, Iida-kun, and your mom, we’re going to topple over with exhaustion,” she whines. Izuku shoots her a look.
“You’re always on the brink of toppling over because of exhaustion,” Izuku says bluntly, turning back to watering the plants and purposefully tuning out Uraraka’s high-pitched complaint of hey! , humming his pop song over her voice. Mei bumps Izuku’s hips with her own, before moving to the counter where Uraraka was sat, idly sipping coffee and staring at a textbook.
Mei clicks her nails on the counter. “So, Uraraka,” Mei says, eyes meeting Uraraka’s tired ones. “Do you have any contact information? I kind of forgot to ask you, when you came in the other day… I’m going to start on your baby soon, so I just wanted something to contact you with,” Mei turns her head from Uraraka’s. She misses the gentle beginnings of a smile that falls on her face, instead being blinded by a full one head on.
Oh.
Uraraka hurriedly scribbles her number on a piece of paper, cheeks a soft pink when Mei reaches out to grab the slip of paper. Their fingers brush, and for a split second, Mei’s world freezes. The only thing that matters is that brief contact, short touch of skin to skin. Both girls are still, waiting for the other to move.
With a clumsy swipe, Mei moves her hand and the slip of paper and walks out the flower shop, calling out shy goodbyes for her friend and her client.
After Mei fixed Uraraka’s motorcycle—the two continued their odd relationship. It started with an accidental text message from Uraraka, something about a missing flower pot—and from then, the two just continued talking. They both went to Yuuei University, despite going into different majors. Uraraka was going into astronomy, and Mei herself was headed towards civil engineering.
It was November, now. The campus had chilled, and more students were hiding away in the library cramming for finals. The first semester of freshman year was coming to an end, and Mei was definitely feeling it.
“Uraraka,” Mei whispers. “Do you know when to use an Oxford comma? I think I...” she starts talking animatedly about how she doesn’t care about Oxford commas when she cuts herself off and notices the girl is dozing off, her eyes shutting the longer Mei drones on about grammar. Mei feels concerned—is Uraraka really still not getting enough sleep? It’s been months since they met—piling up all of that...
Mei shakes Uraraka’s shoulder firmly. Uraraka flutters her eyes open, flushing once she realized where she was and what just happened. “Hatsume-chan—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I—”
It’s right then when Mei decides she’s not going to let Uraraka suffer in this library any longer.
A lightbulb turns itself on in Mei’s head, one that reminds her of the days of her youth—of the days when her mother would take her to the city-wide festivals and fairs to show off her tinkers and inventions.
“Come on,” she grasps Uraraka’s (incredibly soft) hand, pulling her up and walking out of the library. Uraraka’s making protests, things that sound like our stuff! and wait, what about the textbooks? Mei pointedly ignores it all, choosing to explain once she plops Uraraka on the front seat of her motorcycle. “Listen hear, Pretty Girl,” Mei jumbles. “Our stuff is fine— I’ll get Hito-chan to pick it up for us and he’ll take your stuff to Izu-chan’s place. But right now, you and me are going to the local amusement park that just came into town a while ago,” Mei says. Mei herself climbs on in the back, wrapping her arms around Uraraka’s waist.
Uraraka looks very pink, but agrees dumbly with no protest on her lips. She plops a helmet on, handing a spare to Mei, and revs the engine. It’s incredibly attractive, not that Mei’s paying attention to that aspect of Uraraka or anything.
The two ride off, and the wind blowing in Mei’s face made her feel more alive than tinkering in the shop ever has. It’s reinvigorating, reenergizing—being here on a motorcycle with a girl with two jobs and really soft hands. Mei’s definitely at least a little gay for Uraraka Ochako.
When they reached the fairgrounds, Uraraka looked like she was being dragged through a war zone.
“Let’s go! The lines aren’t long, if we go now we can get to the roller coaster soon!” Mei shouts, going to grab Uraraka’s hand. They’re still as soft as she remembers, from the brief instant they touched back when they first met and when she acquired her phone number. Uraraka still looks dazed, though, and when Mei asks her about it, she’s waved off.
The two go around the fair for a little while, Uraraka taking a shot at throwing darts at balloons. She pops fifteen of them in thirty seconds, and wins a green plush rabbit. “I’m going to name you Deku,” Uraraka coos at the plush. Mei lets out a laugh at that. It’s getting late—the sun is starting to touch the horizon—when Uraraka drags her to the ferris wheel. It’s large, bright pink with softer yellows and blues accenting its surface. The booths are pristine white, and the entire thing looks like something out of a cheesy movie. Well, Mei admits, she’s always been something of a cheesy person. “Let’s go, Hatsume-chan!” Uraraka whines, tugging her towards the line. Mei complies, soft smile appearing as she looks at Uraraka.
When the two arrive to the ferris wheel, the line is pretty long. The line moves quickly, though, and soon enough, the two are in a booth together. “Eep!” Uraraka squeals when the ferris wheel begins to move, and it’s so endearing, Mei can’t help but blush. The sunset looks nice as the two slowly rise up, and Mei feels something of a fond look in her eye when she sets her eyes on Uraraka. Uraraka’s half-leaning on Mei at this point, cuddling into her side. It is rather cold—the wind picks up and the two shiver into each other.
A horrible grating noise makes itself known, and the two girls shoot up where they are. “What was that…?” Uraraka asks tentatively. A crack in audio seemingly answers that for her: malfunction with the ride. Do not panic, we’ll fix it shortly.
The two girls exchange looks, and Mei bursts into laughter. “Of course,” she giggles. Uraraka looks at her oddly, her laughter calming down a bit.
“Hatsume-chan?” Uraraka says softly. “Do you… Do you like girls?”
That sobers Mei up immediately. She locks eyes with Uraraka, and it’s silent in their booth for a few seconds. “Yeah,” Mei says, suddenly feeling a lot bolder than before. “Yeah, I do. I like girls a lot. I can even think of one I want to kiss.”
Uraraka’s cheeks blaze red. “Oh?”
Mei hums. “We met a while ago. It was nice—she needed her motorcycle to be fixed. She looked so tired… She still does. But my favorite memory of that day…” Mei trails off, and grips Uraraka’s soft hand. “My favorite memory of that day was holding her hands. She gripped mine hard, but her hands were so soft. It’s unreal…”
The two stare at each other. The Sun paints the sky pink, and the two are inching closer until their lips brush together.
It’s soft, gentle, and everything Mei has ever dreamed of. Uraraka’s hands aren’t the only things about her that’s soft—her lips are a pillowy dream, and her cheeks are smooth and squishy. Her tummy is soft, and her thighs are perfect—round and jiggly. Uraraka is perfect, the soft to Mei’s hard, rough, calloused hands.
When they part, Uraraka’s face is still red. She stares at Mei’s lips for a few seconds, before jumping onto Mei’s lap and burying her face in her neck, hugging her tightly. “Call me Ochako.”
All Mei can do in response is wrap her own hands around Urar—Ochako’s waist and hug her all the same.
It isn’t until Mei comes home, with a sleepy Ochako holding her hand, that she realizes it was a Wednesday.