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Ochako blinked against the darkness, the small crack beneath the closet door offering just enough light to make out where she was standing… where he was standing.
“So,” she began, attempting to break the tension, certain that she couldn’t survive seven minutes of silence amongst the sharp scent of detergents and cleaning agents.
“No.”
Ochako flinched, surprised by the harsh word. Sure, she hadn’t exactly expected pleasantries, but she had mentally prepared herself for a snarky comment or two; outright dismissal was foreign at best. Few were that blunt with her. Few ever had reason to be.
“Rude,” she muttered under her breath, forgetting that Mina had turned down the blasting music in the common room, her honest admission undoubtedly overheard.
“Look, I don’t want to be in here any more than you do,” Neito Monoma snapped, an edge to his voice. “Small talk isn’t going to make this go any faster.”
Ochako considered his words before asking, “Why bother playing then?”
“I didn’t have a choice,” he seethed. “I was actually on my way out when Pinkie Pie decided on this childish game, and your boy Blasty wouldn’t let me leave.”
“First off,” Ochako stepped toward him, an indignant flame sparking under the fuel of one too many spritzers, “Only I get to call him Blasty.”
Neito scoffed.
“Secondly, no one forced you to come to this party.”
“Excuse me for wanting to be social,” Neito huffed. “If I had known being trapped in a closet with the likes of you was the cost of admission, I would have stayed in my dorm room.”
“Wow,” Ochako drew the word out, the realization making her feel like a fool. “Good to know how you really feel.”
“I didn’t—”
“Oh, no. Don’t bother. Clearly, you think as highly of me as you do the rest of 3-A.”
“Right, because you don’t hate me like the rest of them?” Despite the darkness, Ochako was positive she could see him roll his eyes. “Let’s cut the pleasantries.”
“This is pleasant?”
“You choose to spend your time with that rabid pomeranian, and you want to judge what I find to be socially polite?”
“Shut up, Monoma,” Ochako snapped, hating herself for suggesting the game to Mina in the first place.
“Family names?” Neito gasped in feigned offense. “Have I finally gotten a rise out of Japan’s Sweetheart? Or is that all a load of shit too?”
A flash of rage flashed through Ochako, her foot apparently tied to the sudden wash of emotion as she kicked him in the shin. “Jerk!”
Before he had a chance to retaliate, Ochako shouldered her way through the supply closet door, surprised to find it unlocked as she met three sets of expectant eyes.
“Well?” Mina asked, a hopeful grin splitting her face, dark eyes not daring to blink.
Ochako’s gaze shifted from her best friend’s eternal optimism to the crimson and ruby looks of distrust, neither Katsuki nor Eijirou believing that her plan would work in the first place.
Swallowing the urge to cry, she hoarsed out, “You’ve always got to be right, don’t you?”
Mina’s face dropped as Katsuki’s twisted into the raw anger she felt, Eijirou’s fists hardening when Neito stepped out of the closet behind her.
“Really didn’t want to be,” Katsuki said, his molten rage settling on the blond beside her.
A tear fell down Ochako’s cheek, a glaring reminder of who she was and what she meant to the people who noticed it as Mina grabbed her hand to lead her toward the kitchen.
“I’d run if I were you,” was all Eijirou said before Mina motioned for the music to turn up.