#syncwrites

The sight of him is confusing.

Maddening. Ridiculous. Heartbreaking, and pale. She raises her hand to reach for his shoulder, but stops it halfway. There’s an instinct to touch him. She doesn’t know why. It’s just… confusing.

No one else gives her this reaction. They’ve been explaining it since she woke up. Missing memories. Aliens. Yokai. All of this crap that makes no sense and yet somehow, this guy standing in front of her sticks out. Black wavy hair. Big round glasses. A look on his face that makes her want to hide. Why is that?

“Miss Ayase, you’re kinda my only friend.”

Momo Ayase isn’t exactly privy to the social lives of nerds. Call it a character flaw, but she was never one to spend too much time looking into the friend groups of people outside her circle. Sure, she’d notice when people sat next to each other at lunch, or when small groups in the hall would form in between classes. She’s popular for a reason, she isn’t oblivious to everything going on. But those are all average kids who exist around her perception. Nerds are a whole different species on a whole different planet that she hardly ever spots from her observatory.

Before Okarun entered her life, she’d assumed they had their own little ecosystem of otaku friendships. Sure, maybe they sat alone during class, but they’d meet after school and… uh… nerd out with each other? It makes less sense the more she thinks about it. But it always seemed plausible that they had connections and people to enjoy their hobbies with. Less, maybe. But still some.

“Huh?” She tries to lean forward and get a glimpse of his face. That fails. He’s looking in the total opposite direction. “Whaddya mean?”

No one else? Not even someone online? Why is that so hard to believe? Sure, she found him getting bullied pretty badly. And he was alone then. But he has a personality! He has interests. A sense of humor. That’s like the bare minimum for social interaction and he’s actually pretty good at those things when he wants to be.

Okarun flails, “F-Forget it.”

Feeling is difficult. Especially for Izuku. It’s been something he’s struggled with for years now. Feeling adequate. Feeling… attractive. Now that he’s hearing those things from someone he loves, it’s difficult not believing it himself.

“Okay! Let’s just—hey! Relax! We’re almost there!”

They fumble through the hallway. His hands loop around her waist as she sways into him, away from him, back into him, and suddenly (with no warning) starts barreling forward with all of her weight. Black Whip nearly launches out to catch her, but at the last moment, her foot pounds into the ground and she pulls herself back. Unfortunately, the momentum from that move also crashes her into his chest, which—thankfully—stops her from falling. She giggles as he holds onto her and tries his best to keep her upright.

Izuku’s never seen Ochako like this.

Never. And, to be fair, there shouldn’t have ever been a reason before tonight. But even with a blood alcohol content of ridiculous proportions, he would have never guessed Ochako would be such a… such a… such a lightweight.

Especially considering how the night started out.

“I am not a lightweight Izuku Midoriya!”

Pity him for ever implying otherwise.

After a long, messy night, Izuku and Ochako wake up haunted. Their first kiss was all wrong, but it’s not even about a kiss. Years of mutual yearning have taught them to close themselves off, to not be honest with each other. Not anymore.

It’s nothing like Izuku imagined.

Soft.

Too soft for the way his heart slams into his ribs. For the way his breath falters and the world shrinks down to a single point of contact. Her mouth, plush, and trembling, sloppily pressed against his. There’s no force to it, only desperation. Need. Longing. Raw and open and messy and tired. It steals the words of protest from his throat, literally. Burns the oxygen right out of his lungs. He doesn’t try to kiss her back. Not at first. He’s frozen in place, scared, worried.

And then he’s not.

There’s no structure or support. Izuku’s hand comes up to fix that, catching the side of her face, his thumb settling just below her ear. His lips part, just slightly, just enough to feel her bottom lip roll between his.

It clicks in that second. Barely there. A breath of a kiss. But finally, a real one. The second they get there, she leans in even more. Her weight presses into him, her chest against his, her thigh shifting over his waist as she deepens it without asking. Rough, sloppy, he doesn’t know what he’s doing, it’s clear she doesn’t either. Not that it matters.

His fingers slide back into her hair. He tries to meet her halfway, match her energy, copy her movements. It’s weird, and all over the place, and still… none of that matters. It’s happening. This is all he’s wanted for years, and it’s happening…

…and it's wrong.

He doesn’t deserve this, not really. Not when every warning bell he's ever learned is sounding in his ears, screaming that he should stop, that this shouldn’t happen, not now. But Ochako is sighing into him, breathing in his air and breathing out hers, tasting faintly of wine and barbeque and a flavor utterly unique to her. She’s breathing so heavily now, putting all of her energy into this, and it’s overwhelmingly difficult to break. Her thumb brushes his jaw. Grabs at his cheek, his hair, tangles in it, holds him in place.

But it’s not like he’s trying to move. Izuku kisses her back as best he can manage, and it’s only when she pulls away, heaving for another breath, a trail of spit trailing off her lower lip, that he realizes what they’ve done.

Between heavy gasps, she begs. “I… I love… I love you.”

Dizzying. “I love you too.” Intoxicating. “Ocha… Ochako, I love you.”

Premature. Drunken. Wrong.

Ken Takakura was never one to get attached.

Before Momo Ayase. Before Granny Seiko. Before Turbo Granny. Before yokai and aliens. Before Jiji, and Aira, and Vamola, and Kinta, and Zuma, and all of these people he considered his friends (friends—real friends!) crashed into his life. Before he cared about how he looked, or how he was treated by people around him. Before love and happiness felt like an achievable future that wasn’t out of reach for an awkward guy like himself.

Before it all, Ken didn’t try to get close. He didn’t want to. Every time he did, it ended like this. Just like this.

“Sorry, uh, who are you again?”

It’s straight out of a nightmare. A sick dream he’d play on loop in his head at three in the morning after waking up in a cold sweat, heaving into his pillow, unable to shake the thought that all of this was just his head playing tricks on him. Only, it was never just a nightmare.

After attending their respective therapy sessions, Izuku finds out some rough news, and Ochako receives some helpful advice. Progress is made. Steps are taken. Forwards, beckon rebound.

“Yeah, yeah.” Katsuki crumples his napkin and nails a perfect shot into the bin on the other end of the room. “Speaking of your sex life, proud of you for finally inching off home plate with Uraraka.”

Izuku stutters. “K-K-Kacchan—!”

“What? Progress is progress. Only took like three lectures from me and everyone else jumping you at the party–”

“Kissing is a big step!!” It flies out way too loud and he instantly wants to crawl beneath the table. “That’s like, at least first base! No?”

Katsuki barks a laugh that ricochets around the room and gets everyone’s heads turning. “Damn, you’re hopeless.”

Undoubtedly, Izuku is hopeless.

That’s what he tells himself as he wraps things up with Katsuki. It’s also what he tells himself as he caves and lets Katsuki drive him back home. The conundrum of ‘romantic progress’ is a blight on Izuku’s admittedly limited experience. Before last week, he hadn’t let himself consider these things. Kissing alone seems like such a leap in what he ever considered possible. Maybe that’s the problem, though. He never considered himself capable, let alone deserving. Now that he has someone to experience these things with, it feels like he hasn’t spent nearly enough time preparing.

If there is anything Izuku Midoriya can pride himself on, it’s his ability to analyze and prepare for a problem. His whole life has been preparing for problems he’s never been equipped to handle. Funny, they’ve always seemed much bigger than this. Trying to become a hero without a quirk. Wielding a power strong enough to blow his limbs clean off. Battling villains that tried, and in some ways succeeded, in permanently altering society. Izuku has climbed insurmountable hills in the past, and to do so, he’s relied on those around him. He’s relied on her more often than not. Now it’s that time again. To climb a hill, and one that should by all means be easy and enjoyable.

And yet… even though she’s right there beside him, it feels just as impossible. Death. Power. The world. He’s handled it all in the past. He’s done it time and time again. After all that, if he can’t even wrap his head around moving forward with Ochako…

Then he truly is hopeless.

It’s what he tells himself as he stares at his phone and contemplates calling her.

It’s been enough time. She’s out of the appointment by now, has been for a while, probably. He can only hope it went well. His thumb hovers over her contact. Her picture is set to a selfie she had sent him a long time ago. Silly, tongue out, beautiful, gorgeous, deserving of so much more than he’s been giving her.

That look she’d given him the other day. When he pulled his shirt down. When he let that side of his anxiety show. And before that. When they’d been making out on the couch, and she’d been pleading with him, begging him to go further, to do more, to not stop. He couldn’t. Somewhere deep inside, she must be disappointed. Or, not disappointed… maybe just worried for him?

The phone clicks off as he leans back into the seat.

Hopeless might be underplaying it, actually.

The party went well, and both Izuku and Ochako have decided tonight will be the night they kiss. But for now, it’s time for dinner with the Uraraka’s.

“Izuku.” She turns to him, suddenly feeling small, vulnerable. “Does my hair look okay?”

His eyes soften. The genuine concern flickering behind them does wonders for her anxiety. He scans her face with an intensity that makes her want to laugh, despite the pit in her stomach. Even though he’s already told her she looks great half a dozen times in the last hour, he’s still taking her seriously within this moment, he’s still looking for her.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, reaching out to gently tuck away what must have been a loose strand of her hair. His touch is feather-light. “There. Perfect.” She almost leans into his hand as it passes her face.

She exhales, relief loosening the tight knot behind her ribs. She doesn't want to believe him, not really, not when she’s been strung between panic and pretending since leaving Momo’s. But he says it like he means it, and that helps. He’s always been good at making things feel a little less terrifying.

“Okay.” She nods, convincing herself. It takes a moment to come up with an excuse to touch him. But it comes to her soon enough. “Now you.”

He blinks. “Me?”

She gestures vaguely toward his chest. “Your shirt, just—let me.” Before he can ask, she runs a flat palm down the front of his shirt, smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle. Her fingers linger on his chest, and then on his stomach. It's a relatively thin fabric, so the warmth of his skin nearly seeps through into her palm. A tingle rushes through her fingertips, and she snatches her hand back quickly, her cheeks burning, it’s all she needs.

“You look beautiful too,” she whispers, hoping he doesn’t hear how unsteady her voice has become. It’s true, he’s looked unfairly attractive all night long. It’s the rolled-up sleeves, and his face, and his hair, and the scars framing it all for her.

His eyes are wide, but warm. He’s maybe a little pink at the ears. “Thank you,” he mumbles, clearly taken aback but smiling, anyway. Smiling is good. She’ll have to keep reminding him of just how good he looks. If Ochako had to guess, he might not fully believe her compliments either—but who would he be to argue at a time like this? Izuku’s too awkward for that.

The time has come for Izuku and Ochako to have their first official date night. Thankfully, the stars are shining over them, so hiding isn’t an option.

The sky above UA is as beautiful as ever. Dense with stars, a cosmic painting right outside, just a few million lightyears away. It’s addictive, the way their problems seem smaller in the face of it, the way they get lost in it. He could spend hours like this, just… looking. Letting his mind drift away into the endless expanse.

But really… it’s not the sky alone that does it. Yeah, it’s beautiful, and mesmerizing, and a million different adjectives, but it’s who he’s with that makes these moments truly addictive. Ochako’s next to him, getting lost with him, and they’re here, in their shared space, at their hero academy, living this life he couldn’t have dreamt of.

It reminds him that this won’t last forever. That sometime, not too far in the future, they’ll graduate, and they won’t have these moments anymore. No sneaking up to the room past curfew. No sitting with her for hours, just doing nothing.

“I’m gonna miss this,” he whispers, not meaning to say it out loud until it’s already past his lips.

“The stars?” Ochako asks, turning his way with a smile. “We can always come back after we graduate and see them, silly.”

Izuku turns to her, meets her eye.

…

Something in her face changes.

He smiles, and then slowly looks back up to the sky. “Yeah. I know.”

A moment passes. Two. Three. A minute. He can tell she’s still watching him. He keeps his eyes on the sky and fixates on her attention. It’s stuck on him. This moment is lasting forever. Another moment. Another. Two minutes now. She’s still looking, staring right at him. He keeps his gaze on the sky. Not knowing what to say. What to do. How to do it.

Finally, thankfully, her voice finds him again.

“You won’t have to.”

The sky disappears before him, and suddenly, all that exists in the universe is Ochako Uraraka. His eyes find her, easy to spot in the void, easy to stay focused on, get lost in. And he does. In her eyes, her beautiful brown eyes that are wide and reflecting the invisible cosmos back at him. She’s breathtaking. Impossible to look away from. Izuku wouldn’t even want to.

He asks, because he isn’t sure what else to do. “I won’t have to… what?”

Ochako’s hand moves. It loops around his arm, the same one she touched earlier, and her hand grabs hold of his hand, firm and tight with her grip. She holds his gaze as the void gives way to a trillion tiny stars, shining just for them.

“You won’t have to miss this.”