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“Nah—I’m just a loveable ball of cuteness,” she moved her lips across each other before continuing to loudly chew gum. “There’s not a single part of me that’s hateable,” she sprawled on the couch taking every part beneath pink skin, “sooooo, nope–not movin’.” She looked back down at her phone with her head propped on the armrest, “I’ve been working out all day and–” a large hand settles on her left leg pulling it down.
She lowered her phone looking at the tired boy, “I’m really sorry Mina, but my feet hurt,” he sighed and closed his eyes, setting his laptop in his lap. His arms moved and sat on the top of the couch cushions, she frowned.
“You know Izuku,” she rolled on her right and brought her knees closer to her waist, “why even ask if you were going to sit down anyways.” She was annoyed about something–there were other couches. But they were taken by a rowdy bunch of teens losing against each other at Smash Bros. He wanted to know to see if he could remedy it, but patrolling with Miruko took up most of his patience. “Seems a bit pointless.”
He opened his eyes towards the far ceiling fan–it’s autumn and Todoroki insists on keeping it on. He sighed and looked to the right at the girl glaring at her phone, “nevermind,” he sat up, “I’ll be in my room,” he wanted to be around her, he really did—he doesn’t have it in him today to try to help anyone else. Though, that sounds pretty wrong since he is a hero.
Mina groaned and pushed her phone from her face, “then why move me and sit down anyways if you’re just going to go to your room?” She looked at the boy pushing off the couch and standing up. He looked at her and then looked away briefly to pick up his backpack leaning on the couch, he looked at her again.
“I just wanted to sit down,” to be around everyone else and get rid of the viscous image of Miruko’s knee digging into his chin. He just wanted to be around Mina Ashido who doesn’t seem to want any company right now, “but I made you uncomfortable–I’ll see you later.” He looked away, a bruised eye and a slightly busted lip. He looked terrible…she couldn’t hold her angry face any longer. Well, she could. She could hold it for a few more hours. “Mina.”
“Bye,” she rolled back on her back and moved her phone to sit on her stomach. Her stomach was covered by a thick dark green hoodie he gave her last month. She flicked her finger along her screen scrolling through photos of pink and green faces…she frowned harder. Photos fill her limited storage—she collects the photos in a folder Sorry and scrolls through her messages for a familiar name.
But she doesn’t look long, no more than a second to see the name sitting at the top of her contacts…every few hours she’d be in here again just reading their conversations. Reading the I love you too. My mom wanted to know if you’re going to the pool with us? Read past that–scrolling up past a thousand hours and a million words. Trust me. Followed by a smiling blushing face, there’s not a single unlovable part of you . Past the come to my room when you get back, I wanna cuddle . Past the hey, this is Mina.
She stops at the very top–his first ever text. Hey, this is Izuku Midoriya from class, Aizawa-Sensei said you wanted to talk to me? Water in the creases of her eyelids. Her anger is justified, he agrees with it. She deserves to be angry beyond reason. She could yell, beat at the years that form their relationship and how willing and quick he is to toss it all to the side for people they never even met.
Smochie, you know you can just say no sometimes, they’ll understand. Two years might not seem long to him. He might not think she’s who he wants to be with for the rest of his life. He’s so strong and capable, he doesn’t need to love her the way she loves him. But, if you really can’t then we can just do this some other time, okay?
I’m so sorry . They’re trying to be heroes, but before all that…they’re still teenagers dating. She’s not going to let him run around giving the little time left of his childhood to people that don’t know him like she does. Sure, he helps so many people, but those people just see his smile. She sits up , her legs dangle over the couch with her feet brushing against the cold bundle of cotton making up her green bunny slippers.
She stands up searching the room…it’s dark. She reread their messages, the hundred thousand of them saved in her phone. The TV is on with Kirishima watching something she’d rather not comment on. The sun is setting far contrasting how high it was what feels to have been a second ago. She loses her mind in old memories of them.
Her back pops, and her ankles snap comfortably. She walks making her way towards the—her phone dings. She lifts it and holds it with both hands…it’s not him. She doesn’t bother reading the scam and shoves it int—-she doesn’t knock. She just twists the doorknob letting cold air brush against her cheeks. “Izuku.”
She could be angry all week…but he’s laying on his bed looking at her with exhausted eyes, she hiccuped. “Hey,” she kicks her slippers to get lost below the wooden bed frame. She moves forward, freeing her body of the warm sweater and allowing the cold air to steal her heat, “you’re laying down?” She nodded, he scooted back to the right side of the bed. The ceiling fan hums. Her knee sits on the bed as she crawls in beside him. He closed his eyes again—opened them as soon as her chest landed on his. “Hmh?”
He left for a week without so much as a warning to throw his life down the drain for people that don’t deserve him. “Sorry,” she pollutes his neck with her arms and settles her legs on the sides of his waist. “To wake you up,” she spent hours on end trying to contact him only to find out that he left his phone…he hugs her back and hums.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she wants to address the lost week, but she wants this to last longer. Selfish hands roll across her shirt and steal the hate she wanted to keep for herself. She cried in her room already, she hyperventilated talking to his mom wondering if he was really going to leave just like that. She feels his hands rub her thighs, “my jaw hurts.” She scooted her head back–he was out with Miruko for a week a few hours away joining in cleaning the last of Overhaul from Japan.
Her pink thumb slid under the bruise, “did you already go to Ms.Shuzenji?” Recovery Girl went with them, but the bruise is still here and his heartbeat’s a lot stronger than it normally is. Beneath her hand, he nodded, “why didn’t she heal you?” He smirked.
“She did…it was sooooo much worse,” thirty degrees and effortlessly taking his breath, her tongue moving between his lips. He just brushed his teeth–she hadn’t brushed hers since this morning half a day ago. They makeout–kiss because makeout doesn’t depict the way he kisses her.
He once told her that he used to study how to kiss when they started dating—she breathed in trying to smile before the water dripped from shortcuts in her eyes. “I’ve been waiting all week for that.” She hiccuped with dainty white basic tears. “Izuku,” she stared back at similar actions. His eyes leak too, his hands are heavier.
“I missed you Mina—”
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To the onlookers, they look like they’ll never work out.
He’s a shy, insecure nerd. She’s a stubborn, friendly dancer. He stays up at night scared that one day he’ll be left alone to do his own things. She stays up at night wondering if he’ll ever see that she’s just as insecure and afraid as him.
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His voice cracks through the burning pain from reduced bruises around his body, “I missed you so much,” she told him when they first started dating that she’s clingy and has nightmares frequently. Nightmares that she isn’t good enough—so she’d come here or talk with him over the phone until she went to sleep.
He used to be scared because she’d still go to Kirishima so often–she hasn’t been there in years. “If you ever leave me like that again,” she squeezed her arms around his neck. “I’m going to find you and kill you myself.” She hiccuped crying harder, feeling ants crawl along beneath her bra and pricking at her nipples. She wants to be free of her clothes, strip herself like she did so many times before and cuddle knowing he won’t mind it. Knowing that her nude body could roll against his and he’d still be able to focus on his work,
She wants him to chuckle and wave her off, pinch her butt because she was being a total ass an hour ago…or maybe she wants him to cry just like he is now. She wants him to feel exactly what she is feeling, “I’ll deserve it.” He gave a wet chuckle and let her run with it–except she didn’t. She kept her eyes closed. “I can’t leave you.” Even if he wanted to because she implanted herself into his mind.
“Don’t think about trying.” She wanted to sound romantic not like a dying cat gurgling under water—he hiccuped as his tears lightened against his face.