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The sun happened to hit their classroom just right that day.
Oboro wasn’t paying attention to their teacher’s lecture which was common for a Tuesday afternoon. But instead of daydreaming about the future, Oboro’s eyes were trained on a special sight. For whatever reason, the sudden shift in the weather had freed the sun from its cloud choked prison and gave it room to shine down through the third-floor windows and directly onto Shouta Aizawa’s face.
With the morning gloom gone, Shouta’s lips parted into a wide smile.
It was at that exact moment Oboro felt his heart stop.
Shouta never smiled. When he did it was small, usually hidden behind his dark hair. But in the brilliant afternoon light, Oboro could see the look of wonder in his eyes. His best friend, his number two, was something special.
Only when the bell rang and he was still transfixed in his seat did he realize something had changed.
This feeling… it was…
‘Uh-oh.’
Shouta is already out the door before he can even grab his books. But for the first time, Oboro doesn’t try to catch up with his friend or offer to race him to the next class. He waits until everyone else leaves to meander out into the hall and stare dumbly at Shouta’s back as if he’s awakened from a deep sleep.
What even was this feeling?
‘... am I in love?’
It’s a weird word— love. Even having it jumble around in his seventeen-year-old brain feels odd. It was a word used in movies, in comic books, a word he used to describe the hero career he was working toward and the taste of cold chocolate in his lunch bag. But to love Shouta? To feel that way?
It was big. Almost too big. Oboro carried the feeling around inside himself the rest of the day in quiet turmoil and shied away from his friends until it was time to go home. He told Hizashi he was just feeling under the weather. It’s the only excuse he could come up with.
But how long would this last?
What even was he supposed to do?
Going home was no better. In the evening the feeling only grew when he was alone and the walls of his room felt too small to contain the jumpiness inside of him. He could just ignore it and go about life as usual. But even that felt terrible in the long run.
Sighing, Oboro covered his face with his hands and conjured a small mass of clouds to scream into.
He couldn’t live like this.
‘I need advice. I need it from the best!’
He sent out a quick text, clutching his phone to his chest as he listed to the silence in his house to see if his parents were awake. After a few minutes of stumbling around, Oboro slipped on his crocs laying at the door and took off into the warm summer night with the street lamps buzzing above him.
“Oboro, what’s the emergency?”
The park was only two blocks down the street and Oboro could hear Hizashi before he could see him. In the shaky lamplight, he could see the reflection of Hizashi’s glasses, adorning a leather jacket and a pair of pink and yellow striped pajama pants.
“Did you even wear shoes out here buddy?” Oboro chuckled.
Hizashi shrugged. “Forgot them. Sounded like you had something big to tell us!”
“You’re lucky I even put something on!” Nemuri’s voice carried across from the other side of the playset and both boys jumped to attention. From the shadows she stepped forward, wearing nothing but a purple silk robe and some flip-flops.
“If we are being fair, you are more dressed than you are at school,” Hizashi smirked.
“Because I sleep naked,” Nemuri hissed. “What’s all the commotion?”
Both his friends turned to him and he felt his cheeks burn, suddenly aware of the spotlight. It wasn’t like him to feel shy or even embarrassed. He hardly knew the meaning of the word. But not so deep down he felt an ache in his heart knowing Shouta wasn’t here and suddenly the alarm bells started going off in his brain again.
“I… uh…”
Immediately the two caught on to his own characteristic nervousness and shared another glance.
“Seriously dear, what’s eating you?”
“Errr.” His toes curled in his crocs slowly. “I… I like um… I love I guess… ah… S-Shouta.”
In the dark, he could practically hear their lips crack into wide smiles.
“What now!?”
“Oh!?”
“Yeah, I…” he threw his hands up in defeat. “... I love him. I dunno, I really felt something today when the sun hit him during class and then I thought I was sick and I still might be sick, who knows! This is all new..”
“You are sick! Sick in love!” Nemuri practically shrieked, twirling around and grabbing Oboro by the front of the shirt.”Was it that stubborn baby face of his that had your heart going pitter patter?”
Oboro looked to Hizashi for help but his friend appeared almost as star-struck. If it weren’t for the late hour, he probably would have yelled and sent all the windows in a five-mile radius smashing with his voice.
“You gotta tell him Oboro, is that why you called us down here?” Hizashi asked gleefully. “To be your muses?”
“Your matchmakers?”
“Love gurus?”
“I charge by the hour, you know.”
“W-well, kinda but…” Oboro stumbled away from Nemuri, heart beating a mile a minute. “I just have to find a nice easy and not over the top way to tell him.”
Looking at his two friends, it struck him that they possibly weren’t the best two to be asking for a low-key way to confess to someone like Shouta. But it’s all he has and the only two friends he is close enough to trust.
Holding up his hands as if in surrender, Oboro spoke slowly.
“Shouta is like a cat. If you startle him he just runs off. I can’t confess my feelings in a loud or obnoxious way. I need something… small. Something personal.”
Nemuri and Hizashi settled down as the truth of Oboro’s words hit home. As excited and eager as they were, they knew their friend well. One wrong move and Shouta would call the entire thing stupid. If he felt like he was the center of attention, he would find a way to shy away or play it all off like he didn’t care. Getting Shouta to open up was like a video game with no cheat codes; all anyone had to go off of was a constantly changing walkthrough with no clear end in sight.
Frowning, Hizashi crossed his arms and fixed Oboro with a quizzical look. “Well did you have any sort of plan to tell him before asking us?”
Oboro smiled warmly. “I just thought it would be nice to give him a small treat. Like mango jellies, you know? He always liked those.”
It was the one treat they had shared together over the summer. Shouta hardly ate much unless he needed to but one time Oboro’s parents had gotten a pack of the small orange packaged treats and Shouta had asked him if he could have some. The way his skin had glistened in the sun that day with his short wavy hair tied back had made Oboro’s chest go tight. Every little human detail Shouta dropped about himself made Oboro love him that much more.
“You could give him those.” Nemuri tapped her painted nail against her chin thoughtfully. “How about you make him an entire lunch?”
Hizashi and Oboro stared at her, surprised by how tame her answer was. Having hardly cooked anything in his life Oboro feels the familiar nervousness grip at his stomach.
“Yeah buddy, you can make him a lunch and put a note in it confessing how you feel,” Hizashi smiled.
“But what does he like to eat?” Oboro asked cautiously.
“Oh don’t mind that, it’s the thought that counts! Throw some things in a bag and just bring it to him,” Nemuri smirked. “You should let me write the letter for you though, dear. I can make it memorable. Very memorable.”
Oboro’s entire face goes red and he thanks the night sky that the others can’t see him clearly. “N-no thanks, I can wait a bit on that. Remember the rule: don’t scare the cat.”
“Aww but you know it’s the shy ones that are the most kinky-”
“See you two later I have to go cook thanks!”
Oboro turned and bolted back toward his house with Hizashi cackling behind him like a mad man. He can’t think of Shouta like that or he would die on the spot. Everything had a time and place.
Right now, he needed to perfect his cooking game and fast.
‘Let's do this Oboro. Let's make a meal that can break down the walls of Shouta’s heart.’
The excitement and determination he whipped up in his heart push him to run all the way home until he stood sweaty and out of breath in the middle of his dark kitchen. His parents were sound asleep upstairs and he didn’t dare turn on the overhead light in case they woke up and saw him from atop the stairs. He had no idea what to do or where to start.
So he did the only thing he knew he could do.
Improvise.
Throwing open the fridge, Oboro set to work. He pulled some beef bits from the back of the fridge and set some water to boil on the stove. He would just cook Shouta what he liked, even though he had no experience making his own meals. Lunch was whatever his mom made him and he never questioned it. But he knew that he had to put oil in the pan and season the meat with some salt and pepper. Then the rice would go in the pot on the stove once the water started boiling. All in all, it was a simple meal.
If only Oboro wasn’t so tired.
Multitasking was his first mistake. The pan was too hot when he put the meat down and the loud sizzle the pain let out almost made him drop it. Afraid that his parents would wake up, he tried to cook it as quickly as possible while neglecting to check on the rice.
Everything was sticking and burning.
Everything was a mess and it was already 2AM.
Salvaging what rice he could from the pot, he placed it in a spare bento and lined up his charred pieces of beef on top of it with a look of disgust. He added a little bit more salt and pepper to try and boost the flavor and then stood back in front of the fridge looking for a drink to throw in.
He had… beer.
Beer was a good sign of romance, right? Did Shouta even drink?
‘One beer, one rice and beef entree, now for dessert.’
Placing everything in a paper bag, Oboro took some mango jellies out of the cupboard and scattered them around the bottom of the bag.
He was so unbelievably tired… but it was done.
Placing the lunch into the fridge next to his own, Oboro turned around to look at the dirty panda with burnt food he had forgotten to scrub and let out a long sigh.
He wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight it seemed.
But deep in his heart he knew it was worth it. For Shouta, he would stay awake a thousand hours if it meant making him happy.
‘Shouta… I did my best. I hope you’ll like it.’
—
It rained that morning.
And then well into the afternoon.
Despite it being sunny the entire week, the sky decided to clog up and rain down on UA high with no regards to Oboro’s master plan. He glared out at the clouds during class, willing it to all go away by lunch hours, praying that the sky would empty itself and let the sun shine out.
Come lunch time, Hizashi and Nemuri try to drag Oboro into the cafeteria.
“Just do it there, people will leave you alone. No one will ever know you’re confessing your feelings,” Hizashi assured him with a mischievous smirk.
“It feels wrong not to do it on the rooftop,” Oboro groaned with the two lunches clasped in his hand. “The rain is ruining this entire thing!”
“Just wait for Shouta to get here from class and meet us at the back table, it’s usually empty.”
Nemuri and Hizashi head off and Oboro searches through the crowd of students, feeling his insides do flip flops, teetering on his heels with anxiety pumping through his veins. He waits and waits, going over what he wants to say in his mind fifty times over. Once the crowd starts to thin and the cafeteria echoes with the rumble of chatter, he grows suspicious.
Shouta hadn’t walked past him.
Where was he?
Curious, Oboro headed over to the stairwell leading to the roof. The latch was undone and he could hear the soft roar of the rain echo down to him. Without thinking his feet moved forward and he made his way up the four flights to the propped open door leading out to the walkway.
Sitting against the wall with an umbrella over his head was Shouta.
“Hey!”
His dark eyes turned toward him and immediately what ever hostility Shouta had toward being found dissolved his eyes met Oboro’s.
Smiling gently he motioned for him to come over.
Oboro didn’t even mind the rain. He stepped out into the downpour with no regards for his uniform and hustled over to Shouta. He held out the umbrella for him to get under and Oboro sat down besides him, grinning like a fool.
“I was waiting for you, I thought you’d come to the lunch room.”
“It’s too loud. I always get a headache,” Shouta frowned, hair slightly damp. He stared down Oboro, glancing at the two bags in his hand. “Did you steal Hizashi’s lunch or something?”
“What? Oh.” Oboro nearly forgot and immediately his nerves came back to bite him. “I uh, actually made this for you.”
Shouta stared down the big quizzically. Water dripped from the corner of the umbrella onto the cement around them and after a moment of thought Shouta reached out and took the bag from him.
The moment he opened it Oboro felt fear.
It was bad.
So, so very bad.
“Um… so I made it myself… err.. My parents were asleep you see…”
Shouta slowly pulled out the chipped blue bento and opened it to reveal the charred beef and dry rice. It looked so much worse in the gray daylight and the chopsticks didn’t even match as he plucked them from the bag.
“... I… I’ve never cooked before this…”
An amused smirk formed on Shouta’s lips and with wide eyes he pulled the beer from the bag and held it up to Oboro almost accusingly. “... really?”
His face lit up. “I-It was all I had in the fridge!”
“You could get suspended for this you know.”
“I… y-yeah, I know! It just didn’t feel right without a drink so…”
Shouta dug further into the bag like someone both excited and horrified to find what other treasure lay inside. When his fingers closed over one of the mango jellies, his face softened.
“Sad to tell you that I think this is the only thing that’s edible,” Shouta mumbles with the small candy pinched between his fingers.
His smile made his attempt feel a little less like the huge failure that it actually was. But he waits for Shouta to pull out the note, staring at the bag with wide eyes until his memory catches up to him.
He never wrote the note.
Oboro had forgotten all about it.
“So,” Shouta popped a candy into his mouth. “Why did you make me lunch?”
Oboro felt paralyzed, drowning in his own humiliation. He opened his mouth to say something, trying to grasp the words he wants to say, to make some sort of attempt at saying out loud how he felt. Him, Oboro Shirakumo, unable to perform and be his best self when he really needed it. Today of all days, in front of the person he admired most.
Straightening up, he took in a slow breath and stared out into the rain.
“I just wanted to show you how… how I felt in a way that wouldn’t overwhelm you. I didn’t want to make it too showy, because… because I know that isn’t you. I really thought hard about what it is you would like and I failed at cooking. I even forgot the note,” Oboro stammered, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. “I almost let Nemuri write the note. Almost.” He forced himself to look over at Shouta, eyes wide with determination. “I really like you. More than a friend. I know it’s not very practical and… I don’t want to ruin our friendship but I just didn’t know how to tell you and now I messed it all up and the foods terrible so if you don’t like me I under-”
Something squishy slipped into his mouth. A burst of mango flavor lit up his tongue and he stared at Shouta, face red as his school tie. The other was grinning at him, the smile on his face just as wide and beautiful as it had been that day in class.
“Quit babbling, silly. Of course I like you,” Shouta whispered against the pouring rain. “The fact that you attempted to cook and failed so badly makes it even better.”
A laugh slipped out from his lips and Oboro laughed with him, the built up embarrassment and nervousness tumbling out of him as the two of them laughed together beneath the umbrella as the rain picked up and thunder boomed low in the distance.
“I’ll go out with you. Next time you don’t have to make such a show of it.” Shouta picked out several mango jellies from the paper bag and leaned against Oboro’s shoulder, holding them out in his palm. “Alright Loud Cloud?”
Breathing in the earthy scent of the rain into his lungs, Oboro leaned his head against Shouta’s and took a mango jelly for himself with a wide smile.
Maybe he wasn’t such a disaster at love after all.
“Alright Eraserhead.”