9 - His smiles

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He walks along the maze that is the shopping centre, dragged by a soft hand and an excited smile. What could he object to going to the place, with no other than Uraraka, and for no other reason than to get [Name] a gift.

However, he cannot help but feel a sliver of regret bloom in his chest at the sight of his friend leading the way into boutique after boutique, shop after shop, and, most importantly, she not getting tired of such activity.

He took a quick look at the shirts area, cute designs, he noted, and followed the track of disaster, that he could feel the workers already glaring to, knowing they would have to pick all the items up, fold them and make them presentable.

He started, "um, Uraraka-"

"Izuku! Isn't this just aesthetic? It would look great on her!"

It was a sweater, of no colour really worth noting, maybe she would like the palette of colours, he thought, and a simple quote in the upper-right of it, so much for that amount of money, even the companies were becoming stingy with the thread and creativity, apparently.

He simply acknowledged her opinion with a gentle nod and tried catching her attention again before she became a hurricane of metal hangers, rainbow of colours with all those "matching" items, shirts, skirts, dresses, jeans, trousers, anything really.

"Uraraka, maybe we could take a break? We have been at it for hours, " he emphasized the last part, although he did lower the volume of his voice, the little stretch of the vocals conveyed the message just fine.

"Are you tired?", she looked at the piece of clothing beneath her lashes, and then back to the boy, "All right, a break it is! Do you know where you'd like to go?"

"I did have a place in mind."

The day ended with nothing productive getting done, Uraraka having settled for a sweet looking blouse and a cup of bubble tea in her hands.

He would say it had been fun, useless as it had been, and while she was busying herself with all those products from certain stores, he had found something pretty but cute, just her style, he thought, and as soon as he saw it, it was as if he looked to a picture in a mood board of her, it was both something not quite common but still something you would find in all those blogs she liked, all those photography blogs with cute, exquisite filters, applied just right and expensive camera shots.

It was hers, it had to be, was the only thought that crossed his mind as soon as it had entered his field of view.

They had parted ways when he escorted her to the bus stop, where she thanked him for the help and the company, sweet girl.

It didn't take him long to think about her, who lately just seemed to plague his thoughts, which she did earlier in the year, but, oh, at least he could go by five minutes without her picture imprinted in the back of his eyelids, or her laughter ringing in his ears, echoing inside his head, still feeling her arms surrounding him from the last hug, so long ago but still relishing in the feeling.

It wasn't an obsession, truly, it wasn't.

It was part of something else, he realized, he couldn't quite place it, even though the perfect word for it was screamed at him from himself, soundlessly though, there was noise if he tried to listen to it, and he had long decided to just wait until the noise left his head. Until there was clarity.

He found himself at her doorstep, eyes drifting down to the welcome mat, colourful flowers almost worn off from the use and the "welcome back!" part becoming part of the background, manila brown.

He rasped his knuckles against the door, and it was her, who answered, in her sweatpants and wide shirt, in all her recently-woken-up-from-a-nap glory.

Her lips stretched into a gentle smile, "Hey."

"Hey," he answered back, somewhat breathlessly, not realizing he had been holding his breath, "did I wake you up?"

"Yeah," she scratched her the back of her head, "but that's fine, it was time for me to wake up anyway."

"Okay," suddenly remembering what he was there for, he fished around for the little detail before deciding it was easier to simply give her the bag.

"I was out and saw this," he smiled, one of those gummy bear smiles, she thought, and realized that it was definitely not healthy to have the amount of beats per minute she was having after waking up, "it reminded me so much of you, I just had to get it for you," he admitted sheepishly.

She took the bag into her own hands and, as thrilled as she was to see what image he had of her, she thought of it as impolite and checked with him first, and she was grateful for this.

"I'm not anyone to tell you this, but could you open it when I leave? A-again, I'm not-"

"That works just fine for me! Although I guess I am missing out on seeing you all worked up," she mused, finger brought up to her lips, side looped smile on her countenance.

"A-ah, [Name], please don't say things like that!"

It definitely wasn't healthy, not for him, not for her.

"Not gonna lie, you are probably the sweetest thing to walk on Earth, did you know that?"

His smile only stretched on further, and the thought that consumed her was some voiceless opinion on his lips, just, and just on his smile, not anything else.

It was hard to lie to oneself, she thought.

"His smile will make me rise from the dead any day", she thought.


imagine writing by the way :)

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⏰ Last updated: Apr 27, 2019 ⏰

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