Work Text:
The tea cups are floating because he asked her to break them.
“Are you sure?” she had asked, taking each one in her hand.
“I’m sure,” Todoroki had told her.
He doesn’t have the heart to break them himself, so he was asking her to do it in one fell swoop. He didn’t have the heart to tell her why, but that he wanted to be there when she did it.
Maybe that’s why she was making such a spectacle about it.
Standing together on the UA roof with a cardboard box between them and twelve delicate dishes in the air. In the light of sunset they refract, shining and perfect in the air. She can almost see him reach out and touch a cup floating by, just a little too close.
“Are you sure that you don’t want to save these?” Uraraka asks, holding one of the cups close before it can float away from her. “You could get a lot of money for these.”
“I don’t need money.”
Ah, that’s right. What different worlds the two of them live in. what looks like a very expensive and exquisite set means nothing to a rich boy, but Uraraka could almost see this being a family heirloom, or something that - if she didn’t tell her parents about it - she would pawn off without hesitation.
Biting down her own pride, she had actually asked if she could just take it. He had said no. The only saving grace is that he didn’t ask why she seemed to want them so bad, so she returned the favor and didn’t ask.
The cups are delicate little things. Blue flowers with gold outlinings, Uraraka wonders if that’s real. It’s delicate, fragile, cold. So expensive. When she turns it over she thinks she might see some name engraved in gold. Maybe that was who made the cups or something. She doesn’t recognize the name Rei, but what does she know about people who make or own fancy cups?
“Do you want to, like, say goodbye to it or something?” She asks awkwardly, finally letting the cup go.
Todoroki looks at her as though she’s gone and grown another head.
“They’re cups.”
“Don’t they have some kind of sentimental value? That’s why you want me to break them, right?”
Todoroki looks around at the cups in the air.
“I guess. But I don’t need to say goodbye to cups.”
It’s hopeless, honestly, and she doesn’t know why she’s trying. Well, it’s probably because she’s always trying. Getting Todoroki to express whatever emotion he’s keeping locked in is like using a rock to open a can. It’s messy, and it hurts the pride, but eventually it gets done - key word eventually. Maybe he doesn’t need to say goodbye right now.
Whatever he chooses to do, Uraraka hopes that he does it soon. There isn’t a lot of weight she’s making float in zero gravity, but with the prolonged use of her Quirk she’s beginning to become nauseous. Maybe he forgot about that part of her Quirk, maybe he doesn’t really care.
“Right… I guess here we go.”
It still feels wrong to break these cups. No matter how much Todoroki wants hernto, Uraraka doesn’t want to let go. Part of her just wants to take all the pieces that are floating and push them all back in the box and take them downstairs. Maybe take them for herself if he really doesn’t want them anymore.
That’s probably the poor part of her talking. Sometimes she doesn’t know what’s wrong with her. Her father used to remind her when she was little not to be jealous of those who have luxury. It’s one of those things that’s taking longer to sink in than some of the others.
Slowly, as if waiting for her friend to change his mind, she presses the tips of her fingers together.
The crash is immediate, so much so that it somehow makes her jump. Todoroki doesn’t, of course, but there it goes. Twelve dishes on the roof, shattered. Staring at them, they don’t look real anymore. Some kind of toy that they just broke together, and at any moment Aizawa is going to slam open the door on the roof and reprimand them for breaking a toy tea set.
But that doesn’t happen. The door doesn’t slam open.
Uraraka sighs.
“Alright… guess it’s time to clean up!”
She gets down to start picking up pieces, to put them back in the cardboard box. Maybe if they’re fast enough no one will notice if they take it out to the trash.
“You don’t have to do that.”
She looks up at him, head cocked to the side.
“We can’t just leave it out here, we’ll get in trouble.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
He holds out his hand, and Uraraka takes it up gratefully. Her nausea isn’t doing her any favors, maybe it would be a good idea if she grabbed some of those pills that Recovery Girl and lies down in her room.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah… Thank you for helping me.”
Was this helping? It didn’t feel like it.
He doesn’t ask outloud if she’s going to tell their teacher, but there’s something in the air that asks for him anyways. She smiles at him, mustering as much cheerfulness as she can. She isn’t a snitch, another thing her dad taught her about.
“Well, let me know if I can help you with anything else, alright?”
Todoroki nods, before letting himself reach down and start to pick up the broken pieces. He doesn’t have anything else to say, so she supposes that she doesn’t either.
Walking across the flat roof, she manages to get all the way to the door before she finds herself looking back at him. Something about him is small in the sunset lighting, with his box, and all the pieces.
Despite feeling like there’s something else that she should be doing, all she can do is open the door, step back inside the cool air conditioned stairs, and slowly closes the door again.