Izuocha's Love Stories

SNOWED IN (CHAPTERS 3-4)

CHAPTER THREE

The quiet was starting to get to her.

They were eating their ramen on opposite sides of the countertop, legs dangling off the edge, the clack of chopsticks on bowls the only sound to break the silence. Even the noise from the blizzard had stopped, snow no longer falling, violent winds no longer buffeting the outside of Izuku's home. It wasn't long past nine, but the clouds that had been blocking out the sky were gone, and it was easy to see that the moon was already out, shedding pale light on the eerily still landscape outside.

She was going to go crazy – she didn't know what she wanted him to say, but she knew it wasn't anything. And yet, save a half-dozen guilt-ridden apologies for letting her slip, that's exactly what she'd gotten.

Then again, she couldn't blame him. How do you even talk about something like that? The thought sprung up, unbidden, of how his strong hands had felt on her waist, having her legs wrapped around him, staring breathlessly into his eyes as they embraced – and that's what it had been, hadn't it? An embrace? She remembered the feeling of being pressed up against him, how it made warmth pool in the pit of her stomach. He was really hot - she remembered the boy she'd met at the entrance exam, awkward and shy, athletic in a stringy way, and could hardly recognize him as the same Izuku that had been holding her. He'd gotten taller, and filled out in a way that made her face red if she thought about it for too long; he had broad shoulders, and brawny arms, and she had felt the muscles across his chest tensing and releasing when he'd been grappling her, and that hadn't helped her combat effectiveness. His face was different too - whether it was the result of age or exercise, his features were stronger now, his jawline well-defined, and he had the suggestion of high cheekbones underneath his freckles.

What's more, it felt right to be held by him, like something was unlocking in her chest. She'd wanted to kiss him so badly that she was filled with a peculiarly directionless kind of self-loathing, where she didn't know if she hated herself for not doing it or hated herself for letting it get that close. They were going to be pro heroes! It wasn't an easy road to walk even if you were one-hundred percent focused, and it certainly wasn't made easier by being in a relationship. Didn't she owe it to her parents to give it her all?

A sudden swoop of empathy filled the hollows of her chest when she thought about the hero Izuku would become. He had a powerful Quirk – and it would be the death of him. It wouldn't be from blowback, not from the broken arms or shattered legs that had plagued him during his first year at UA – but because he would never let himself stop.

How could he?

With a Quirk like that, he had to know that every hour he was off the streets would mean another store robbed, another citizen mugged, another person assaulted. She could imagine him working till the early hours of the morning, getting as little sleep as possible to spend as many time-saving people, because the agencies would have to mobilize a veritable fleet of heroes to make up for his absence. She knew him better than anybody, and even though he understood that he couldn't save everyone, he would kill himself trying, and her heart broke a little for him.

She drew her knees up to her chin as she set her bowl to the side, blinking through the tears that manifested without warning. She really was being selfish.

Her throat hurt, and she was about to open her mouth to say something – an apology, probably – when he beat her to it.

"I'm sorry, Ochako."

"It's fine, really!" she responded, blinking away her tears and forcing a laugh. "I don't know how many times I need to tell you that, silly. I should have been ready." She took a glance over her shoulder. He was hunched over, frown etched into the lines of his face, so worried it made her want to cry out.