From the moment the girl pinpoints his feelings and makes a suggestion out of it for him to set into motion, not a second passes for him to turn into a shrinking violet and his face a blooming rose; he feels his toes curl in his shoes, the grip of his fingers grazing against his palms, and the heat residing in his cheeks. His posture hints that he wants to crumble by the way he delicately sways –he swears that any gust of wind could push him away– but fuel is not added to the flame.
“Uraraka … for just how long have you been knowing this? You can’t just say these things out loud …”
Came Shinsou’s gentle voice. It is times like these when he appreciates cleaning the kitchen of the humble coffee shop, for it is when his back is only visible to Uraraka and her to him as she busies herself with the dishes. This way, she does not see the effects her words have on him or catch his expression that is filled with deep thought. I really like you, that phrase lost its meaning for all that he does with it is repeat it in his mind like if that’ll make his mouth make it come alive. Those set of words would only be a thought.
The brainwasher does not expect an answer from his workmate, much less, want to hear an exact date for he believes that she knows since the dawn of time, and it’d embarrass him listening to her possibly say that. Shinsou is aware of his sensitive heart and how carried away it can get; he would not be surprised if she has caught on to the dreamy sighs he emits when the barista walks right past by him like if he didn’t exist. And to Shinsou that was okay. At least they would never know of his infatuation. However, he can’t help but also feel touched by the girl; she has known and has not said a single letter of his feelings. For that, he trusts her with his confession.
“… Besides, I’m not sure how much of a place I have in their heart.”
INTUITIVE SHE IS, seeing things some might miss. Her frankness knows no boundaries, however, her words often slipping past her lips without extra thought. It’s not that she wants to make fun of Shinsou, not at all. If anything it’s her way of trying to help him. Maybe, she’s projecting a tad bit too. She knows all about how hard feelings can be, is struggling with her own amid it all.
“ Hmm. . . for awhile, I guess, ” she answers, finally. It’s not hard when you watch people enough. You start to see things you didn’t before. Shinsou’s not as obvious, but Ochako’s observant, at least when her feelings aren’t involved. Otherwise she can be rather dense.
His confession sounds so real, so much that Ochako feels like there is a tightening in her own chest. It hits a little too close to home. She, too, has often felt insecurity among her own, uh, crush. Like a girl picking flower petals off one by one and questioning: does he love me, does he love me not? But this isn’t about her, and she’s long decided to bury her own feelings for Deku. This is about Shinsou.
Hands pause in between wiping off a final dish as she turns around to face him. His back is to her so she can’t read his face. Has his posture always been slouched like that?
“ I won’t tell anyone, I promise, ” she says, voice kind. Secrets are sacred to her. “ And. . . I guess you’ll never know unless you ask. ” A beat passes before she adds, “ You’re a pretty cool guy, Shinsou-kun. Don’t sell yourself short. ” She thinks he has a chance.
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