Chapter Text
Uraraka Ochako is an observant girl. For all her bright smiles and cheerful demeanor and go-getter attitude, Uraraka knows how to observe. She knows that Momo tightens her ponytail whenever she’s nervous or gears up for something big. She knows that Kaminari is allergic to cats but will always go out of his way to help a stray in need. Jirou copies down notes for Tsuyu when the weather turns cold and the frog-like girl can barely hold her head up in class. Sero likes black sweaters (and looks really good in them, too). All of these things, Uraraka knows. She can already tell when Momo is going to pull at her ponytail before she even does it. If anyone asked her about the tidbits of knowledge Uraraka has stored up about her friends over the years, she’d merely shrug and say it was nothing.
It was nothing, at least to her.
But she sees Izuku flinch one day in the hall when Katsuki brushes by, the blonde boy taking care to bump shoulders with him harshly before snapping.
“Watch where you’re going!”
Izuku tries to control his fluster and the tremble in his voice. He apologizes ( Why should he apologize? Uraraka thinks as she watches the scene unfold. Katsuki bumped into him first. ) and tries to give a ‘good morning,’ but Katsuki is already sneering and walking away. It’s a typical scene, one Uraraka has witnessed too many times to count. The others in class are the same way because they barely react. A grumpy, unpleasant Katsuki is as common as the rising sun. But Sero comes by and gives Izuku a gentle pat on the shoulder, throwing both him and Uraraka a sunny smile. He greets them good morning and tells Izuku not to let Katsuki get him down. The unexpected contact makes Izuku flinch for a second time before he settles down and offers up a smile of his own.
Uraraka looks down.
His hands are trembling.
She’s not a stupid girl. Uraraka knows that a typical teenager like Izuku shouldn’t be so skittish and flinch when someone reaches out to him. She tries to reason with herself. Izuku had always been painfully shy, maybe he was just...uncomfortable with too much physical contact. But Uraraka can still see his hands trembling and spends the next three days with her eyes laser-focused on her friend. Surely, his hands didn’t do that all the time, right?
Right.
But she’s wrong. Izuku’s hands were always shaking, even when it wasn’t obvious. When he poured himself a cup of tea, when he gripped a pencil and poured over his school work. Even when he made a fist, that slight tremble was still there, barely discernible to anyone else, but Uraraka’s eyes were sharp and a pattern slowly started to form. His fingers shake even at rest, and it intensifies whenever Katsuki is around. Nobody notices, Izuku has mastered the art of keeping attention away from himself. He learns to be invisible so unless you were actively seeking him out, you’d forget that he was even in the room. So, one night, when everyone had piled into the common area of the dorm, Katsuki came barging in with a frown and that familiar wrinkle in his brow.
“Hey!” Mina looks up from her textbook, one side of her hair tousled from laying her face on the table. “We’re studying Katsuki. Come join us!”
“Why the fuck would I want to do that?” he sneers, and Mina barrels right past that. She had this uncanny ability to simply tune out whatever mean thing Katsuki says and gets right to the heart of what his words truly mean. So she doesn’t say anything when he roughly plops down onto the floor across from her. She merely slides the plate of cookies to him as an offering and the chatter resumes as normal. Uraraka is tapping away at her phone. There was this really good iced tea she wanted to pick up from the store tomorrow and was setting a reminder for herself when her eyes flicked over to Izuku.
He was standing in the corner looking at his own phone. Whenever anyone would speak to him, he’d offer up his usual bright smile and a kind word ready to go. But Uraraka doesn’t miss the way his grip tightens around his phone, nor does she miss the way his fingers flex periodically for the rest of the evening.
Over the next few days, there’s a coil in Uraraka’s gut that only gets tighter. She always knew there was tension between Izuku and Katsuki. You’d have to be the most oblivious person in the world to not see the way Katsuki went after him. But Katsuki was always snappish and razor-edged with people, that was just his way. Kirishima and Sero made it sound so easy , so simple. If Uraraka wasn’t careful, she’d find herself thinking the same exact way. A part of her almost wants to give in to the foolish notion that Katsuki Bakugou treated everyone with equal amounts of disdain and unpleasantness. She doesn’t want to think about the fact that only Izuku flinches whenever he passes by, doesn’t want to think about the way Izuku tenses up, curls inward and flicks his eyes to the floor whenever Katsuki addresses him. She doesn’t, she doesn’t, she doesn’t--
Because doing so would mean digging deeper as to why , and Uraraka doesn’t think she’s ready to know the answer. Life, however, had a funny way of sticking out its tongue and telling her too bad! before forcing her to confront some terrible, aching reality. It does exactly that on a drizzly Wednesday morning, when she’s walking in between Iida and Izuku as they make their way to class. She’s exhausted and the rain only makes her sleepier. Iida had carried her bag for her despite Uraraka telling him she could carry her own things. He gave her a look that was surprisingly fond.
“Nonsense,” he had said. “I can do this for a friend.”
(She’s not the only observant one in class. The realization hits her as Iida pries her bag out of her hand. Iida had noticed how quiet she had been and for a brief, frightening moment, Uraraka almost thinks she could cry).
“You three, down in front! Move it or I’ll kick your asses!”
Uraraka barely has time to steady herself before a force of blonde hair and gray clothes barrels past them. She’s shoved into Iida, who manages to steady her by the crook of her elbow as Katsuki forcibly pushes his way between them, with Kaminari right at his heels.
There’s a cacophony of sound. A tangle of legs and limbs.
“Oh!”
“Damn, sorry Uraraka!”
“I-It’s fine, Kaminari…”
“No running in the halls!”
“A-Ah, Kacchan! Please, be careful--”
Katsuki gives Izuku a particularly hard shove in the shoulder and Uraraka winces as he makes impact with the wall.
“Shut the hell up, Deku! I don’t need you harping over me!”
Iida lets go of her elbow and Uraraka keeps her gaze steady as more voices fill the hall.
“Don’t shove him, Katsuki!” Kaminari scolds, the barest hint of irritation lacing his words.
“Oh my!” Momo is soft and concerned. “Is everyone alright?”
“Quit shouting,” that’s Jirou. “it’s too early for all your noise!”
People begin hurrying to their classes and the situation fizzles out quickly as a more important goal takes place. They can’t afford to be late for class.
Uraraka picks up Izuku’s bag, who is rubbing at his shoulder. Iida is distracted and scolds his classmates for running in the halls and nearly hurting others. She’ll have to calm him down before he gets too riled up, but for right now, she holds Izuku’s bag out for him to take.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
Uraraka manages to ignore the way Izuku’s smile makes her chest flutter. She purposely skips over the blush rising to his face as he takes his bag from her.
“I’m fine!” he replies. He flexes his fingers. “Let’s get going. I’d hate to get on Aizawa’s bad side this early in the morning.”
There’s a distant pounding in her head. Liar. Liar, liar, liar. She musters up a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Okay.” Uraraka acquiesces, soft and sweet and falsely happy.
That something in her gut reaches up her throat and chokes her.
She wants to break something and settles for pressing her nails into her palm.
It happens in the middle of the night.
Uraraka is heading downstairs for a glass of water, careful not to wake anyone up. All of the girls had crowded into Momo’s room to watch a horror movie, which ended up being one of the worst decisions of her life. Uraraka can’t handle horror and berates herself for not suggesting some cheesy romantic comedy instead. She’ll take old cliches and worn out romantic tropes over a slasher film any day. Making her way down the steps is a herculean effort. Her socked feet make no noise, and she’s careful of the weak spots in the floorboards, but the darkness is thick and tangible around her as she tries not to slip and fall.
You’re such a baby, Uraraka scolds herself as she safely navigates away from the staircase. It was just a movie, after all. How can you call yourself a hero if you’re afraid of the dark? If Izuku were here, he’d tell her there was nothing to be afraid of (despite the fact that he’d be just as scared as her), and that bolsters her spirits somewhat. It wasn’t hard to believe anything Izuku said when he smiled at her like that, so bright and sweet…
There’s a light on in the kitchen, Uraraka squints and her heart speeds up as she steps fully into the room. The wood underneath her feet groans, and Izuku whips his head to face her. Uraraka’s heart tries to settle, but she can’t control the heat rising to her face. She was just thinking about Izuku and now here he was, looking adorably flustered and disheveled as he stood by the sink with the faucet on.
“O-Oh! Uraraka...I didn’t hear anyone come down...is everything okay?”
“Yeah!” She heads to the cabinets and pulls out a mug. “I just came down here to get some water.” When Uraraka faces him fully, she notices that his hand is underneath the running water. “Are you okay?”
“Huh? Oh-- yeah, yeah, I-I’m fine!” Izuku whips his hand away and quickly goes to turn the faucet off. His movements are too fast to be natural and they both know it. “I just...I just broke a glass, that’s all. I guess I don’t know my own strength.” The laugh rings hollow in her ears, and Uraraka almost cringes with how hard he’s trying at an attempt at normalcy. The faucet is off and Izuku makes a sudden move, he goes to put his hands in his pockets. Uraraka catches something in the abruptness of his motions and her own hand whips out to catch his wrist. He flinches (her heart positively cracks ) and that familiar tremble in his fingers begins.
“U-Uraraka?” Izuku’s voice is several octaves too high and there’s a fantastic shade of red creeping up his neck. They were almost holding hands and Uraraka wanted to relish in that more than anything. It would’ve been so easy to tell herself that she had decided to be bold one fateful night and hold the hand of the boy she likes.
Life curls its lips up at her instead. It sneers. Too bad.
There’s a burn mark on Izuku’s wrist, right by the bone. It’s not large , per se, but it isn’t small either. Uraraka has nothing to compare it to and her throat is suddenly dry.
“How did you get this?” she rubs a thumb over the burn absentmindedly and she can practically hear Izuku swallow.
“You-you mean this?” he shrugs it off like it's nothing. A laugh is caught somewhere in his throat, but nothing’s funny. “I must’ve gotten it during training...you know, my quirk can be kind of wild--”
“Don’t.” The word falls out of Uraraka’s mouth before she can stop it. A chill seeps into the kitchen, freezing them both down to the bone. But something hot and wild is swirling in her gut, flames are licked across her chest. “Don’t lie to me, Deku.”
“I’m--I’m not lying to you, Uraraka…”
“You are! We’ve been friends for a long time, Deku. I know when you’re lying to me.” It takes everything in her to keep her voice down. She doesn’t want to snap at him and she doesn’t want to yell. Finally, Uraraka has the courage to meet his eyes and it’s almost too much for her to bear. There’s a hint of fear, a spark of embarrassment and something else. Something old. Something tired. She repeats herself and her tone brokers no room for argument. “Where did you get this from?”
The name drops out of his mouth and lands with a thud on the floor between them. “Kacchan.”
Uraraka lets go of his wrist. Izuku won’t meet her eyes as he slides his hands in his pockets. “It happened back in middle school.” he goes on, and his shoulders curl at the memory. “Goodnight.” he walks away from her and Uraraka can feel her eyes burning as she stares at his retreating back.
“Wait.” she calls, and Izuku stops. He won’t look at her and for once, Uraraka thinks that’s a good thing. If he did, she was certain that something in her would break. “What...what about your hand?”
“I already told you, Uraraka.” Izuku makes his way up the stairs and the darkness swallows her best friend. “I broke a glass.”
Uraraka gets herself a glass of water and downs it all in quick succession. The only light is coming from the open fridge and she slams the door closed with much more force than necessary.