Chapter Text
The ceiling had exactly forty-seven tiles. Mina had counted them three times already, and the number hadn't changed. She lay sprawled across her bed, one leg dangling off the edge, her fingers drumming against her stomach in an arrhythmic pattern that matched nothing, meant nothing. The dorm room felt smaller every day. Four walls, one window, a desk she never used, a closet half-empty because she couldn't be bothered to unpack completely. What was the point?
Her phone sat face-down on the nightstand. She'd checked it six minutes ago. Nothing interesting then. Nothing interesting now. The group chat was dead. Kirishima had sent some motivational quote earlier that made her want to throw her phone against the wall just to hear something break. She'd left it on read.
The incident. That's what everyone called it, like giving it a vague name made it less real, less permanent. Now they all lived in dorms, trapped together like lab rats in adjacent cages. For safety, they said. For protection. Mina pressed her palms against her eyes until she saw colors burst behind her eyelids.
She sat up, and the blood rushed from her head, making the room tilt sideways for a moment. Her reflection caught in the mirror across from her bed. Pink skin, yellow eyes with black sclera staring back at her like a stranger.
She looked away.
The walls were bare except for a single poster she'd put up the first day and never looked at again. Some band she'd liked three months ago. Or maybe she'd never liked them. Maybe she'd just pretended because Jirou mentioned them once and it seemed like the thing to do.
Everything felt like pretending lately.
A laugh drifted through her window, high and bright and so fucking cheerful it made her teeth ache.
Mina's head snapped toward the sound. She pushed herself off the bed, her bare feet silent on the cold floor as she crossed to the window. The glass was smudged with fingerprints from all the other times she'd stood here, watching, waiting for something, anything to happen.
Five stories down, two figures stood in the courtyard. Even from this distance, she recognized them immediately. Midoriya's green hair caught the afternoon light, and beside him, Uraraka bounced on her heels like a child who'd just been given candy. Her hands moved as she talked, animated, expressive. Her whole body radiated something that made Mina's stomach turn over.
Uraraka laughed again, and her cheeks went pink. Those fat, round cheeks that bunched up when she smiled, making her eyes disappear into crescents of pure, unadulterated joy.
She watched Uraraka lean forward, saying something that made Midoriya scratch the back of his neck.
That nervous gesture he did constantly, like his body didn't know what else to do with itself. He smiled back at her, small and awkward, and Uraraka's face lit up like he'd just told her she'd won the lottery.
Mina's jaw clenched. The muscle in her temple jumped, a steady pulse that matched her heartbeat. Her fingernails scraped against the windowsill, leaving faint marks in the paint.
They looked so clean. That was the word that came to mind. Clean and pure and untouched.
Midoriya shifted his weight, and his shirt pulled tight across his shoulders. The fabric strained against muscle that hadn't been there a year ago. His forearms were exposed, veins visible beneath freckled skin, the kind of definition that came from actual work, actual training. His hands looked strong.
Mina's gaze traveled up to his face. Plain. Aggressively plain.
Freckles scattered across his nose like someone had flicked a paintbrush at him. Eyes too wide, too earnest. That expression of constant concern, like he was perpetually worried about everyone and everything.
It should have been endearing.
Instead, it made her want to slap him just to see if anything else would register on those features.
But his body. That was different. That was worth looking at.
Uraraka touched his arm, just a brief brush of her fingers, and jerked her hand back like she'd been burned. Even from fifty meters up, Mina could see the blush spread across her face, could imagine the stammered apology, the nervous giggle. Midoriya probably didn't even notice. He never noticed.
The memory hit her without warning, sharp and vivid.
Three weeks ago. Girls night. The four of them crammed into Momo's room because it was the biggest, because Momo had a TV and a couch and all the things that were supposed to make hanging out fun. Mina had wanted to claw her own eyes out within the first fifteen minutes.
Momo had suggested they watch a movie. Some romantic comedy that Uraraka picked, full of misunderstandings and grand gestures and a happy ending you could see coming from the opening credits. Jirou had sprawled across the floor, scrolling through her phone and occasionally making sarcastic comments that went over Uraraka's head.
Mina had excused herself halfway through, gone back to her room, and returned with a plate of brownies.
Homemade, she'd said. Wanted to contribute something to girls night.
Jirou had looked up when Mina walked in, caught her eye, and smirked. That knowing smirk that said she understood exactly what Mina had brought, exactly what was about to happen.
"Oh, these look amazing!" Uraraka had reached for one immediately. "You made these yourself?"
"Just felt like baking," Mina had said, settling back into her spot and watching as Uraraka bit into the brownie. Momo took one too, ever polite, always willing to appreciate someone's effort.
They'd each eaten two before the movie ended. By the time the credits rolled, Momo's eyes were glassy and she kept giggling at nothing. Uraraka had gone quiet, staring at the ceiling with a dreamy expression.
"I feel weird," Momo had said, her words slightly slurred. "Did you... Mina, what was in those?"
"Just chocolate," Mina had replied, examining her nails. "Maybe you're just tired."
Jirou had snorted, not even trying to hide her amusement. Momo had turned to glare at her, but the effect was ruined by the way she swayed slightly, like she was on a boat.
"That's so... that's not okay, Mina."
"You'll be fine," Mina had said. "Just relax."
And Momo had, because what else could she do? She'd closed her eyes and let her head fall back, muttering something about responsibility and trust that nobody paid attention to.
Uraraka had started crying.
Jirou had sat up, her smirk fading into something like concern. Even Mina had felt a flicker of interest. This was different. This was something.
"Uraraka?" Momo had reached over, her movements slow and clumsy, and touched Uraraka's shoulder. "What's wrong?"
"I just..." Uraraka's voice had cracked. "I really like him. I like him so much and he doesn't even see me."
Jirou had exchanged a glance with Mina. Momo had shifted closer to Uraraka, her earlier irritation forgotten in the face of her friend's distress.
"Who?" Momo had asked gently, though they all knew. Everyone knew.
"Deku," Uraraka had whispered, like saying his name was sacred. "I've tried everything. I smile at him, I laugh at his jokes, I find excuses to be near him. I thought... I thought maybe he was just shy, but it's been so long and he never..." She'd wiped at her face with the back of her hand. "Maybe I'm not pretty enough. Maybe he just sees me as a friend and that's all I'll ever be."
Jirou had moved to sit beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "You're plenty pretty. Midoriya's just dense as a brick."
"The densest," Momo had agreed, her words soft and reassuring. "He probably has no idea how you feel. You should tell him."
"I can't." Uraraka had shaken her head violently. "What if it ruins everything? What if he doesn't feel the same way and then it's awkward and I lose him completely? At least now I have him as a friend. At least I get to be near him."
She'd cried harder then, and Momo and Jirou had flanked her, murmuring comfort, stroking her hair, telling her it would be okay. That Midoriya would be lucky to have her. That any guy would be lucky to have her.
Mina had watched from across the room, her expression neutral. She'd felt nothing. No sympathy, no urge to comfort. Just a vague curiosity about how long Uraraka would cry, whether the weed would make her say anything else interesting.
It had been the most entertainment she'd had in weeks.
Now, standing at her window, watching Uraraka's face glow with happiness as she talked to the boy she loved, Mina felt her lips pull back from her teeth.
Uraraka gestured widely, nearly losing her balance, and Midoriya reached out to steady her. His hand on her elbow, careful and gentle. Uraraka froze, staring at where he touched her like he'd just performed a miracle. When he pulled away, she looked devastated.
He had no idea. He stood there, completely oblivious to the girl in front of him who would probably give anything for him to touch her again, to look at her the way she looked at him. It was almost funny. Almost.
Mina's hand moved to her own throat, fingers pressing against her pulse point. She could feel her heartbeat, steady and strong. She pressed harder, imagining what it would feel like to just squeeze, to cut off air, to make everything stop.
But that would be boring too. Just a different kind of nothing.
Her gaze dropped back to Midoriya. His shirt really was tight on him. The way his muscles moved when he shifted his weight, the strength evident in his frame. He'd gotten bigger, stronger. More attractive, objectively speaking. His face still did nothing for her, that earnest, worried expression that made him look like a lost puppy. But his body...
An idea formed.
She could take him. It wouldn't even be hard. He'd probably be grateful for the attention, too stupid to question why someone like her would suddenly be interested. She could flirt, touch his arm the way Uraraka did but with confidence instead of hesitation. She could make him notice her in ways he'd never noticed Uraraka.
And Uraraka would know. Eventually, she'd find out. That sweet, innocent face would crumble.
Those pink cheeks would go pale. Those bright eyes would fill with tears, real tears, not the high-induced crying from girls night.
Mina's thighs pressed together, a sudden heat pooling low in her stomach. Her teeth caught her bottom lip, biting down until she tasted copper.
Yes. That would work. That would be perfect.