Work Text:
"Good morning!"
Izuku laughed as his phone screen lit up.
"...Melissa."
Melissa Shield smiled brightly from the other side of the video call.
Except...
Behind her window...
The New York skyline shimmered beneath the evening sun.
"It's not morning here."
She grinned.
"I know."
"But it's morning for you."
He checked the clock.
7:02 a.m.
"...You stayed awake again."
She shrugged innocently.
"...Maybe."
"Melissa."
"I wanted to say good morning."
"You have work tomorrow."
"I know."
He smiled despite himself.
"...You're impossible."
"I've been told."
The call lasted exactly fourteen minutes.
Long enough to say good morning.
Not long enough to make either of them late.
As always.
After hanging up...
Izuku placed the phone on his desk.
The room suddenly felt...
Very quiet.
He wasn't lonely.
Just… Aware of the distance.
Three time zones.
One ocean.
Thousands of miles.
Sometimes...
It felt much bigger.
Later that day...
Ochaco found him smiling at his phone during lunch.
"...Melissa?"
He nodded.
"We talked this morning."
She smiled.
"How's she doing?"
"Busy."
"But..."
He laughed quietly.
"Apparently she's trying to teach herself how to make miso soup."
Ochaco blinked.
"...Why?"
"So she can surprise me next time I visit."
"...Aww."
Meanwhile...
On the other side of the world...
Melissa was standing in a supermarket.
Holding two different cartons of miso paste.
She frowned.
"...Which one?"
An elderly woman nearby smiled kindly.
"Making soup?"
Melissa nodded enthusiastically.
"My boyfriend says homemade is
better."
The woman laughed.
"He's right."
That evening...
Melissa's apartment smelled strongly of...
Something.
She wasn't entirely sure what.
"...Oops."
She stared into the saucepan.
The soup wasn't inedible.
Probably.
She hoped.
Her phone buzzed.
Izuku
She answered immediately.
"Hi!"
"Hi."
He smiled.
"How did the soup go?"
"...Define 'go.'"
"...Melissa."
"It became soup-shaped."
He laughed.
"...That's not reassuring."
"I may have..."
She looked guiltily toward the saucepan.
"...created a new lifeform."
His laughter filled her apartment.
Real.
Unrestrained.
She smiled without even realizing it.
Mission accomplished.
The next morning...
A parcel arrived outside Izuku's dorm room.
Inside...
Wrapped carefully in tissue paper...
Was a small ceramic mug.
Painted by hand.
The design wasn't perfect.
The colours wandered outside the lines in places.
But across the front...
In careful lettering...
Were three simple words.
Different Time.
On the back...
Same Coffee.
A small note rested inside.
‘Thought mornings might feel a little less far away.
Love, Melissa’
Izuku gently turned the mug over in his hands.
Then smiled.
The ocean was still there.
The time difference hadn't changed.
But somehow...
Holding the warm mug the following morning...
It felt as though she was sitting across the table anyway.
Long-distance relationships...
Izuku decided...
Could probably be measured in parcels.
Small ones.
Large ones.
Occasionally suspiciously heavy ones.
The first package from Melissa had contained the mug.
The second...
American candy.
The third...
A handwritten guide titled:
"Snacks You Absolutely Need To Try."
Each item had been numbered.
Each number came with a full page of commentary.
No.4
‘Don't let the colour fool you.
It tastes much better than it looks.
Trust me.’
Izuku smiled as he carefully worked his way through the list.
She'd even left little boxes for him to tick.
He filled every single one.
Then mailed the booklet back.
With notes of his own.
No. 7
Too sweet.
Sorry.
A week later...
His phone buzzed.
Melissa had sent a photo.
She was pretending to gasp
dramatically while holding the booklet.
YOU DIDN'T LIKE NUMBER SEVEN?!
He laughed so hard that Iida looked over from across the common room.
"...Everything alright, Midoriya?"
He nodded.
"Perfectly."
Naturally...
Izuku decided to send a package of his own.
He spent an entire Saturday afternoon choosing everything carefully.
Japanese sweets.
Green tea.
A tiny notebook.
A packet of cherry blossom tea.
A plush All Might keyring.
And...
After much deliberation...
His favourite brand of instant curry.
A week later...
Melissa called him.
Holding up the curry packet.
"...Explain."
He blinked.
"...It's curry."
"I know."
"...You said it was your favourite."
"It is."
"...The instructions are entirely in
Japanese."
"...Oh."
"...Midoriya."
"...I forgot."
She burst into laughter.
"So..."
"Step one?"
He smiled.
"Boil water."
"I can do that."
"Good start."
The next twenty minutes became...
The world's least efficient cooking lesson.
Melissa held the packet up to the camera.
"What does this say?"
"'Open here.'"
"...Helpful."
"And that?"
"'Don't microwave the packet.'"
"...Also helpful."
By the end...
She was sitting on her sofa with a steaming bowl of curry.
She took one bite.
Paused.
Then smiled.
"...Okay."
"I understand."
Izuku grinned.
"...Right?"
"It tastes like comfort."
The words caught him slightly off guard.
"...Comfort?"
She nodded.
"It tastes..."
She searched for the right phrase.
"...like something you'd make for someone after a long day."
He looked down for a moment.
"...That's why I like it."
A few days later...
Another package arrived in Japan.
Inside...
Was the now-empty curry packet.
Perfectly flattened.
Neatly folded.
Alongside it sat a small handwritten card.
I wanted to keep it...
But I figured you'd laugh if I mailed an empty food packet across the Pacific.
So...
Here it is anyway.
It made me feel closer to you.
Izuku smiled so warmly it almost hurt.
He carefully slipped the note into the same box where he'd been keeping every letter she'd ever sent.
That evening...
As they talked before bed...
Melissa looked thoughtfully at the camera.
"...Can I tell you something?"
"Always."
"I think..."
She smiled softly.
"...people keep asking how we make this work."
"They do?"
"Mhm."
"They expect some really complicated answer."
"...And?"
She shrugged.
"I think it's actually really simple."
He tilted his head.
"...How?"
She held up her mug.
The one that matched his.
"You just..."
She smiled.
"...keep finding little ways to be part of each other's day."
Izuku looked down at the identical mug on his own desk.
Then back at her.
"...Yeah."
"I think that's exactly it."
The distance hadn't changed.
Neither had the time zones.
But somehow...
Every shared cup of coffee...
Every handwritten note...
And every slightly ridiculous care package...
Made the ocean between them feel just a little bit smaller.
The hardest part...
Wasn't saying goodbye.
It was not knowing exactly when the next hello would be.
One Friday evening...
Izuku sat at his desk, staring at his calendar.
Several dates had been circled.
Hero training.
Exams.
Agency work.
And...
One date in bright green ink.
Melissa arrives.
He smiled despite himself.
"...Thirty-eight days."
Meanwhile...
On the other side of the world...
Melissa had her own calendar pinned above her desk.
Every evening before bed...
She crossed off another day with a thick blue marker.
Thirty-eight.
Thirty-seven.
Thirty-six.
Her roommate glanced over one evening.
"...You know..."
"I've never seen anyone this excited for a flight."
Melissa laughed.
"I'm not excited for the flight."
"I'm excited for where it lands."
The countdown became part of their
routine.
Every morning...
Izuku sent one message.
37 days.
Melissa replied almost instantly.
Getting closer.
The next day...
36 days.
I already know what snacks I'm buying at the airport.
35 days.
“I miss you.”
“Me too.”
The numbers grew smaller.
The messages somehow meant more.
One evening...
Their video call froze.
Melissa's face stopped mid-sentence.
"...Hello?"
Silence.
The screen buffered.
Disconnected.
Izuku sighed.
"...Not again."
He waited.
Nothing.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
Finally...
His phone buzzed.
‘Sorry! Power outage!’
A second message followed
immediately.
‘I was saying I love you before everything died.’
He couldn't help smiling.
He typed back.
‘Good. I would've been very upset if the internet interrupted that part forever.’
Three dots appeared almost instantly.
‘You giant nerd.’
The next weekend...
Izuku visited a small bookstore.
He wandered through the travel section for nearly twenty minutes before finding what he wanted.
A beautifully illustrated guide to Japan.
He bought it without hesitation.
A week later...
Melissa opened another parcel.
Inside was the guidebook.
Nearly every page had tiny sticky notes poking out from the top.
She smiled.
The first one read:
‘Best ramen I've ever had. We have to come here together.’
Another.
‘This park is beautiful in autumn.’
Another.
‘I want to show you this view.’
Another.
‘You'll love the bakery around the corner.’
Page after page...
It wasn't just a guidebook anymore.
It was...
A list of future memories.
That evening...
Melissa held the book up during their call.
"...You've turned my travel guide into homework."
Izuku laughed.
"...Maybe a little."
She flipped to another page.
Another sticky note.
Perfect place for a picnic.
She smiled.
"You know..."
"What?"
"This isn't really a guidebook anymore."
"...It isn't?"
She gently ran a finger over one of the notes.
"No."
"It's..."
She looked up at him through the
screen.
"...a promise."
The word settled warmly between them.
Not heavy.
Not overwhelming.
Just… Certain.
Before they ended the call...
Melissa glanced at the calendar behind her.
"...Twenty-one days."
Izuku smiled.
"...Twenty-one."
She leaned a little closer to the camera.
"You know what's funny?"
"What?"
"The distance doesn't feel as scary anymore."
"...Why?"
She looked around her apartment.
The matching mug sat on the table.
The Japanese guidebook rested on the sofa.
The All Might keyring hung from her bag.
His handwritten notes were tucked into the pages.
She smiled.
"...Because you've already filled this place with little pieces of yourself."
Izuku looked around his own room.
Her painted mug.
The handwritten letters.
The snack guide.
A postcard from California.
A tiny pressed flower she'd once mailed
"just because."
He nodded.
"...You've done the same here."
For a moment...
Neither of them spoke.
They didn't need to.
The miles between them were still there.
The ocean hadn't disappeared.
But home...
Home was beginning to exist in two places at once.
Seven days.
Then five.
Then three.
The countdown that had once seemed impossibly long...
Suddenly felt as though it was moving too quickly.
Izuku found himself checking the calendar several times a day.
Not because he'd forgotten the date.
Because he wanted to make sure it was really happening.
"...Tomorrow."
He smiled to himself.
"...Tomorrow."
Across the Pacific...
Melissa's apartment looked as though a small tornado had passed through it.
An open suitcase lay across the bed.
Clothes were folded.
Then unfolded.
Then folded again.
Her passport sat on the kitchen table.
Then in her handbag.
Then back on the kitchen table because she'd forgotten she'd moved it.
She stopped in the middle of the room.
"...Breathe."
Her phone buzzed.
Izuku
Have you packed yet?
She laughed.
Then sent a photograph of the spectacular mess.
His reply came almost immediately.
...Should I be worried?
She grinned.
Only if I forget to pack myself.
The flight felt endless.
Movies played.
Meals came and went.
Passengers slept.
Melissa tried.
She managed perhaps twenty minutes.
Every now and then she'd glance at the little countdown widget on her phone.
Landing: 2 hours 17 minutes.
Then...
1 hour 42 minutes.
Then...
58 minutes.
She smiled every single time.
Meanwhile...
Izuku had arrived at the airport far too early.
He knew it.
The arrivals board still showed
Melissa's flight as being nearly an hour away.
He didn't care.
He'd rather wait there...
Than wait anywhere else.
He stood just beyond the arrivals gate.
People streamed past.
Families reunited.
Friends hugged.
Children ran into waiting arms.
Every time the automatic doors opened...
His heart skipped.
Not yet.
Then...
His phone buzzed.
A single message.
‘Just landed.’
He smiled so widely that a nearby airport employee couldn't help smiling back.
Forty five minutes later...
The doors opened again.
Melissa stepped into the arrivals hall pulling a suitcase behind her.
For just a second...
Neither of them moved.
After months of seeing each other through a screen...
It almost didn't feel real.
Then Melissa laughed.
"...Hi."
Izuku laughed too.
"...Hi."
She abandoned the suitcase where it stood.
Ran the last few steps.
And wrapped her arms around him.
He hugged her just as tightly.
Neither hurried to let go.
Around them...
The airport continued exactly as before.
Announcements echoed overhead.
Luggage wheels rattled across the floor.
Conversations rose and fell.
But for those few moments...
It all faded into the background.
Eventually...
Melissa leaned back just enough to look
at him.
"...You're taller than I remembered."
He smiled.
"...You're still making observations immediately."
"It's a gift."
She reached up and gently brushed a stray lock of hair away from his forehead.
"...You're really here."
He nodded.
"So are you."
They picked up her suitcase and started walking toward the exit.
Melissa slipped her hand into his without thinking.
It felt...
Wonderfully ordinary.
No phone screen.
No buffering.
No countdown.
Just warm fingers intertwined.
She looked over at him.
"...Can I tell you something?"
"Always."
"I thought seeing you again would feel exciting."
He tilted his head.
"...It doesn't?"
She smiled softly.
"It does."
"But mostly..."
She gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
"...It feels normal."
He looked at her for a moment.
Then smiled.
"...I think that's my favourite part."
Outside...
The evening sun painted the sky gold.
The ocean still stretched between Japan and America.
Time zones still existed.
Soon...
They would again.
But not today.
Today...
The only distance between them was
the space they chose to leave while walking side by side.
And neither of them saw any reason to make it more than the width of two joined hands.
Several years later...
The apartment was full of cardboard boxes.
Some were neatly labelled.
Others...
Had simply been attacked with a permanent marker.
Melissa stood in the middle of the living room with her hands on her hips.
"...Well."
"We officially own too much stuff."
Izuku looked up from the bookshelf he was attempting to assemble.
"...I think it's just the boxes making it look worse."
Melissa glanced toward the half-built shelf.
"...It's upside down."
He froze.
"...It is?"
She nodded.
"...Very."
He looked at the instruction booklet.
Then at the bookshelf.
Then back at the booklet.
"...I knew that."
She laughed.
"No, you didn't."
"...No."
"I didn't."
They continued unpacking together.
Books found their shelves.
Plates found the kitchen cupboards.
Hero memorabilia found a place in the study.
Slowly...
The apartment began feeling less like a collection of boxes...
And more like a home.
Melissa picked up one box tucked away in the corner.
Across the top, written in thick black marker, were two words.
LONG DISTANCE
She smiled.
"...I forgot about this."
Izuku walked over.
"So did I."
She carefully lifted the lid.
Inside...
Wrapped in old newspaper and tissue paper...
Were years of memories.
The hand-painted mug.
The snack guide covered in Izuku's handwritten comments.
The Japan travel guide overflowing with faded sticky notes.
Bundles of letters tied together with blue ribbon.
Boarding passes.
The tiny All Might keyring.
And...
Folded almost perfectly flat...
An empty instant curry packet.
Melissa laughed.
"...I actually kept it."
Izuku smiled.
"You mailed it back to me."
"I know."
"I still can't believe I did that."
"...I can."
She picked up the mug.
The lettering had faded slightly over the years.
But it was still easy to read.
Different Time.
She slowly turned it around.
Same Coffee.
She held it quietly for a moment.
Then looked toward the kitchen.
Morning sunlight poured through the window.
Two coffee cups sat waiting on the counter.
Side by side.
"...You know..."
She smiled softly.
"...The time's finally the same."
Izuku looked from the mug...
To her.
Then nodded.
"...Yeah."
"It is."
She walked over and slipped her arms gently around his waist.
He rested his forehead against hers.
"...Can I tell you something?"
He smiled.
"Always."
She laughed quietly.
"I don't miss you anymore."
He blinked.
"...You don't?"
She gently shook her head.
"...No."
Her smile was warm.
Content.
"...Because every morning..."
She glanced toward the kitchen.
"...you're already here."
For a moment...
Neither of them spoke.
They didn't need to.
The silence between them no longer felt like distance.
It felt like home.
Later that afternoon...
As they finished unpacking the kitchen...
Melissa reached for a small paint pen.
She picked up the old mug.
Carefully...
Very carefully...
She added one final line beneath the faded lettering.
Different Time.
Same Coffee.
Then...
In smaller handwriting...
Same Time. Same Home.
She placed it beside its matching mug on the shelf.
The two sat together in the afternoon sunlight.
Just as they always should have.
Outside...
The world was every bit as vast as it had always been.
The Atlantic Ocean still stretched between continents.
Time zones still divided mornings from evenings.
Flights still crossed the sky.
But after years of handwritten letters...
Late-night video calls...
Care packages...
And counting down the days until the next reunion...
They had finally found the shortest distance of all.
They had built a home together.