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Kyouka Jirou felt like her heart was going to burst out of her satin-bound chest. Whoever allowed this to happen was beyond her; she remembered the years of steps to it very clearly, but to believe she of all people was there at the end was nothing short of mind-blowing.
“Kyouka, are you okay?” Mina asked as she applied blush to Jirou’s cheeks. Jirou knew she could’ve done her makeup herself (punk rock didn’t mean bare-faced), and considering the event she knew she couldn’t hire a makeup artist to do it professionally, but Mina immediately insisted to, as she said, “beat Jirou’s face”, and wouldn’t let anyone else have a say or offer until they conceded.
“Am I okay?? I’m fine! I’m fine! Nothing to worry about!” Jirou stuttered in response.
“You should know this by now, you could go out there with a chicken mask on and Kami would still tell you you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever met.”
“I guess,” Jirou’s foot pressed into the other out of anxiety. Mina’s lips tightened into a line.
“Here, quit blinking so much and let me do your eyelashes.”
The mutual feeling of nostalgia put a soft smile on both of their faces as memories of prom night, which they spent together as dateless friends, came back to them with the sight of the lash applicator. “Is that the same bottle from prom night?” Jirou asked jokingly.
“Ewww, no! I threw that out years ago, it’s just the same brand.”
“I was joking, Mina,” Jirou’s mouth rounded out of instinct as Mina went to work, brushing and brushing until they were perfect.
“Have I ever told you that your lashes are really pretty?” Mina asked.
“The only person who’s said it more than you is Denki, and he won’t shut up about them.”
“And he’s not wrong.”
Jirou snorted. Kaminari over the years has made it a habit of his to bombard her with compliments whenever she felt down, and before her bachelorette party (which Tsuyu graciously hosted) he went on and on about how much he was in love with her— it almost made her cancel with how kind he was, especially since it’s well-known how bad he is with words. They were the first couple from their class to go through with this idea, but from the way Momo and Ochako were so close at the party, Jirou knew they wouldn’t be the last.
As Mina pressed a silvery-purple eyeshadow into Jirou’s eyelids, Ochako followed by Jirou’s parents walked in, with her mother letting out a gasp.
“Oh sweetheart, you’re gorgeous,” she breathed, causing Mina to smirk.
“I didn’t realize the dress shone like that,” her father said. It was a very light shade of purple, with little pink flowers threaded within the tulle. Not something she would’ve immediately picked for herself, but her girlfriends and her mother refused to let her get anything else. “Off-white’s totally your style, my girl.”
“Thanks,” she looked down into her hands.
“I’m almost done!!” Mina half-exclaimed half-hissed as she moved Jirou’s face into place. She watched as Mina pulled out a vial of lip gloss and proceeded to, after making her pucker up, smear it on her lips. “There’s not a lot to work with here,” Mina muttered.
“Your gloss, or her lips?” Uraraka asked.
“The latter.”
“I can’t believe you guys are gonna bully me on my ******* ***,” Jirou blinked. It was as if she were underwater for just a brief moment. She didn’t hear herself say the words ******* ***. She squinted, then figured it must be nerves.
“You look stunning,” her mother put her hands on her shoulders. Jirou looked up and found it hard to look her mother in the eyes, but that she could easily chalk up to the tears welling up in her own eyes. As nervous as she was, her heart was so full of love she was so ready to give it almost hurt to breathe. She remembered the day he finally asked, and how despite the bitter cold of that December night, she’d never felt warmer or safer before. When they came out to the public much of their privacy was eaten up by paparazzi, but that only served to make their time together sweeter. Jirou went through the long list of dates they’d been on: when they’d gone to New York City, their many trips to different concerts, in museums and zoos and aquariums, the occasional nights they spent cuddling after a long day of pro hero work.
But in her mind, was the briefest flash of something she couldn’t tell if she’d seen before. An echo of a scream, of flashing lights, of a bloody hand.
Then she heard Uraraka gasp.
“It’s time!!” she exclaimed. Her parents exchanged a quick glance, smiled, and her mother kissed her cheek before she, Uraraka, and Mina left Jirou with her father. Suddenly nerves clutched Jirou’s veins.
“You’ll be great, my girl,” her father said soothingly. He held out his hand for her, and when she took it she didn’t feel anything. There was no weight to it, no tenseness, like his hand wasn’t even there. Panic rose up in Jirou’s throat, but she forced it down with a big smile and a sniffle. After all, it was her ******* ***, and who’s sad on their ******* ***?
She could hear the piano start to play as she took a deep breath and pulled the veil over her face, feeling the way she did whenever she walked on stage.
Denki please, wake up!!
There was the echo again, louder and clearer. Jirou stared out as she heard it, absentmindedly taking her father’s arm. The music suddenly didn’t sound right anymore. She didn’t feel like she was controlling her body anymore.
I can’t live without you, Denki!! Please!!
She now recognized it as her voice crying out, but it didn’t make any sense. Kaminari was right there, waiting at the altar for her! She was so close, all she had to do was—
You can’t leave me like this!
Stand
I have a life I want to spend with you!!
At
YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME LIKE THIS!!
The altar.
Kyouka Jirou, with her heart about to burst out of her satin-bound chest, looked up at the man she loved with a ferocity of a thunderstorm, and couldn’t even see his face. He had no eyes, no nose, but without a mouth he still managed to say.
“I’m sorry I left you behind.”
As the world melted around them, Kyouka Jirou still has enough time to reply.
“I love you.”
And she wakes up. In her tiny, cold, Denki-less apartment. She turns onto the other side of the bed and sees where he used to sleep. She realizes she had that dream again. She sits up and sighs, glancing over at her phone on her nightstand. Momo insisted Kyouka could call at any time if she needed to, but right now she can’t bring herself to ring.
Kyouka looks at her hands and remembers how small they were compared to his. She looks at the ring she refuses to take off and remembers him on his knees presenting it to her. She looks at the scars and remembers the day she lost him.
She looks at the clock, but her eyes are too full of tears to see anything past his smiling face in the photo on her nightstand.