Among the Amaryllis | B. Katsuki

Three

Three

The yelp of surprise that escapes you is as comical as it is concerning, and in your panic, the box of peonies slip from your fingertips, thumping to the floor in a way that makes you flinch. There's a flurry of rushed footsteps, and then a familiar head of chocolate-coloured hair comes into view, gentle hands reaching to neaten the fallen flowers.

'I'm so sorry!' Uraraka stutters an apology, all red cheeks and wide eyes, 'I didn't mean to scare you!'

Your pulse is still throbbing in the side of your neck as you help to rearrange the peonies, plucking away a few loose petals. If you must admit, you are relieved that it's Uraraka who has discovered you, and not someone like Denki—you're not really sure if you'd be able to trust the blonde to keep this a secret. Not yet, anyway. You gently push Uraraka's hands away, silently disapproving of the way she's arranging the flowers even though she's trying her best to help, and she watches you take over with a keen interest, her lips parted, awed, as you fingers make quick work of neatening the buds into a presentable state. Once satisfied, you sigh, swallowing down the thick lump that has formed at the back of your throat. Uraraka is quiet as she eyes you for a few long seconds, and you pretend that you can't feel her questioning gaze burning into the side of your face.

Eventually, she breaks the silence with a meek, 'when are you going to tell him that you love him?'

It's a strange feeling, to hear someone other than Mina airing the extent of your affections aloud. This time, however, you don't deny it, and you answer with a depressed, 'I don't know... never?'

'Never?' Uraraka almost looks appalled by your answer, the soft, round shape of her eyes comically wide. 'Then why are you—?'

'I don't know, Uraraka,' your words rush out, a little snappish. You immediately breathe an apology, one that she accepts with a smile that looks like she pities you a little. The downward tug of the corners of her brows—though coming from a genuine place of concern for her friend—makes you feel even worse. 'Mina is very persuasive,' you reveal with a frown pinching your eyebrows together in the middle, 'I don't think it's a good idea, but she says it's a good way to build up my courage until I'm ready to tell him.'

Uraraka has taken upon a pensive expression, hazelnut eyes glazed over as she peers down at the peonies. She's thumbing with one of the petals you'd picked away, before it falls from her fingers, fluttering to the ground. When she meets your gaze, her smile is one of a gentle encouragement, 'maybe Ashido-chan is right.'

You scoff, using the stone wall to brace your hand as you pull yourself to your feet. The pro-hero mimics you, standing up straight as she watches as you turn your head away from the flowers, the box looking a tad pathetic now that you've abandoned it, sat alone on the pavement. 'I don't think so... but... I don't know. I can't help but hope, you know?' You force a laugh, the sound coming out a little wheezy, which, in turn, makes Uraraka frown at the back of your head as she follows you out of the small garden, where you come to halt outside of the gate. 'He thought it was a prank,' you tell her, but the remorseful look on her face gives away the fact that she already knows. When your expression morphs into one of exasperation, she is quick to explain.

'We saw him the day after—he seemed genuinely confused,' her eyes are gleaming with pity, auburn brows pulled upwards as she peers at you. 'But if he knew they were from you, I'm sure he'd accept them!' A small part of you appreciates her optimism, but you're already shaking your head before she finishes her sentence.

'He literally told me that he couldn't stand them—god! Why the hell did I agree to this?!' And then, much to Uraraka's horror, tears are rapidly welling in the corners of your eyes and blinking down the curves of your cheeks. She's already pulling you into an embrace, lithe, but strong arms circling around your shoulders in what you think is supposed to be a comforting manner, your forehead pressed to her collarbone. It only makes you cry harder, somehow, and your entire body shudders against her.