The Ship of Dreams

Chapter 7: "Mrs. Midoriya-Uraraka"

(A/N: Hey, y'all! The longest chapter in a while, with just about 3k.
I recommend listening to "It's My Party" by Lesley Gore while reading this chapter.
Tears and snot, people. Tears and snot. We use some old time-y lingo in this chap so get google ready :D )

Day 4

"We just got this new piece, actually. I think I showed it to you, it's by Claude Mon-"

"Where were you last night?"

Uraraka was staring daggers into him. They were eating lunch in their cabin, and she broke the odd silence.

"What do you mean?"

He tried to keep a straight face, lips wobbling. After the party last night had died down, Katsuki wanted to walk him back to his room. Though he could barely walk a straight line, years of having to keep drunken composure helped him through the hallways, not to mention, stumbling across the deck. Wow, he was stupid. Too intoxicated to care, he did it regardless.

She remained stoic, stirring her tea. "I spoke with Enji. Apparently, your mother got him to follow you at some point throughout the night." She locked eyes with him. "So now can we have a real conversation, Izuku?"

"Oh."

Yeah, Oh-- you fucking genius.

Izuku knew whatever he had with Katsuki was real after looking at Uraraka. He could stomach the idea of a family with her in the past, having children with her, living out the rest of his life with her, but the more he stared into her eyes; he was slowly wishing the soft hazel looked to be more like striking red.

He was in too deep, and every moment he wasn't with Katsuki, he was thinking about Katsuki. Every moment he had his eyes closed, he was thinking of the blond twirling him in muscular arms. The last 12 hours had been monstrous, and dreadful. Not dull at all, that's for sure. A part of Izuku awoke this morning even wondering if it was a dream.

"What did he tell you?"

"Nothing much. Just saw you on some beer-stained dance floor," --She used the word dance floor just as lightly as Izuku did-- "With Mr. Bakugou." She punctuated the blond's surname with spite, clinking her spoon on the edge of her cup.

"Ura-"

"I notice when you don't say my name, Izuku. Why? Do you not love me?" For once in his interactions with the brunette, he was actually worried.

"Let me speak." He was angry now. For all of his damned life, he could never get a word in. He thought at least with a wife he'd be able to finish his sentence. And his head was pounding, and all the lights were so bright.

"Is it me? You know this isn't ideal for me either!"

Ideal for her?? He's a homo, f0r God's sake. Nothing was ever ideal for him. "Just- Stop!"

''"You never pay attention to me- Always going on about your stupid finger-paintings!"

God, was this her breaking point? If he was being honest, he saw this coming. "And now this! You're spending the time you have before we get married with some shabbarron!"

"Ochako."

He paused, losing his grip to stay calm. He was enraged. She could insult him, speak small to him, it didn't bother him. It's not like his mother didn't speak that way to him. But when she insulted Katsuki, no- Kacchan, it made his blood boil like no other time. She didn't know Kacchan. Hell, she didn't even know him.