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[Uh, hm. Well, she's definitely trying to tell him something, but whatever it is he's gotten as far as writing stuff down... writing a lot of stuff down? He should write stuff down??]

Okay, I don't follow.

[His proficiency in mind-reading and mime interpretation are both incredibly low! He's giving it his best shot, all the same; trying to charades this out is sillier than staring at writing he just can't see, so it's a good distraction. Not being good at charades has nothing to do with the town, so take that, Mr. F!!!

Anyway, best guess:] Something about... a bunch of stuff?

[This whole pantomiming thing is surprisingly difficult, but hey, look at that—at least he understood half of what she was trying to convey. Progress! She smiles and nods, trying to let him know that, yes, this is indeed about a bunch of stuff. Now she just needs to think of a way to act out a poem...

Or maybe she can show him what she found? It isn't like they're doing anything particularly important here, aside from standing very, very close to one another, and while that's nice... she gives him a questioning look as she points over toward the door. Is he feeling well enough to go on an adventure, or does he need more time to chill?]

[A bunch of stuff somewhere not here? That's right, isn't it, what else could it be! Damn, he's getting good at this charades thing already... He nods; he's definitely not doing anything useful here, and he's already decided he doesn't want to not know where Ochako is when he can't talk to her. So!]

Yeah, let's go.

[Ochako doesn't even think twice about snagging his hand and pulling him along behind her, because holding hands is just a given at this point. They're walking alongside one another? They're holding hands. They're sitting side-by-side? They're holding hands. It's all very natural, very... friendly.

So down the street they go! And at a fairly brisk pace, too, because there's no point in taking a leisurely stroll when they can't talk. It sucks, especially when they zip past people who are talking and laughing and having a halfway decent time, but she tries to ignore it as she glances back to check on him. At least she can hear them.]

[So... friendly. Okuyasu would insist on it if she didn't, so he doesn't think twice about it either. It's actually very handy (ha ha), allowing him to get distracted from where they're going, staring at people with great scrutiny as they pass by. Which is- an experience for the rest of the town, for sure, but this is how he's conducting his very serious test.

He can hear them. It's only Ochako? For real? He's frowning again when she catches his eye, and the best he can do is shrug. The brief repieve of charades is losing steam quickly...]

[She's still operating under the assumption that he can't hear anyone, which is why she gives his hand a sympathetic squeeze. Walking through an eerily quiet town must be rough!!

Luckily, however, Ruga isn't too far away—it only takes few short minutes for them to reach her house, and she wastes no time opening the door and yanking him right up to her room. Is showing him the copies of his poem going to make him feel better, or is it going to make him feel worse? She isn't sure, but she makes sure to keep her eyes on his face as she holds her free arm out toward the stack sitting on her nightstand. Ta-da! Congratulations on becoming a published poet...]

[When will the truth be revealed... when he gets into another shouting match with Mafuyu over presents, surely. Wait for it. Now then, into Ochako's place and up to her room, that's standard fare, and he doesn't understand why she's showing him a stack of shiny paper- a very large stack, damn- until he peers closer and the realization dawns on him slowly but surely.

Like in a horror movie when the protagonist finally realizes who the murderer is. That kind of moment. He picks up the topmost sheet, looking at it, waving it back and forth a little to be sure this is actually happening. Then he puts it back down and flips through a few more, just to confirm—great! Excellent! No one must ever see these.

The look he gives her is still mortified, but not with as much abject terror.]

What the hell? There's like a thousand copies here! And why do they look like that?!

[Please..... mime something!!!]

[Don't ask questions that are impossible for her to answer! She throws her hands into the air as she shrugs, because seriously, it isn't like she put in a request for these gilded copies. Someone—Mr. FFFFFF, probably—has a sick sense of humor.

But just in case he doubts this, here is yet another stunning performance for him to enjoy. Watch her tilt her head to the side, closing her eyes as she rests her cheek against folded hands. This is sleep, right? She was sleeping, but when she woke up—bam! She extends both arms toward the pile of poems, eyes widening dramatically, because finding them on her nightstand was clearly a shocking surprise.]

[This new mime is also incredible-- it's ridiculous enough that the absolute terror of hundreds of his dopey poem being here, in the world where people can find and pick them up ebbs slightly. He'll smuggle them all home and hide them under his mattress forever, that always works—Ochako can keep, like, ten or something. You know, just to have.

More importantly, this mime is easy enough to parse, and even more importantly... well. Okuyasu puts a hand on her shoulder, very seriously. Then puts his other hand on her other shoulder, also very seriously. Maybe it's the fact that he's doing all of the verbal legwork here that inspires him to just say whatever comes to mind, but he's totally prepared this time, just wait--]

Don't cut out on me this time, but all this signal stuff is cute as hell.

[Okay, who wants to play hide the shiny poems!!]

[Both of his hands are on her shoulders, and that's... okay, that's a sign that this is about to get serious. Ochako blinks up at him, trying to ignore her racing heart as she waits for him to say whatever it is that he's about to say. "We gotta burn every copy," probably. That sounds about right.

Except that isn't what he says at all? It takes a few seconds for what he actually says to sink in, during which he can watch her cheeks turn pink, then red, then crimson before she abruptly ducks her face into her hands. Cute! Cute!! The urge to curl into a ball and float away is suddenly overwhelming, but she wills herself to stay put as she focuses on keeping her quirk in check. Deep breaths, Ochako... deep breaths...

...Yeah, she's going to need a few minutes to recuperate. She is Flustered.]

[Well, she's not running away- or floating away, either! So! This is a definite success, and Okuyasu squeezes her shoulders before he lets go and turns on his heel to look, uh, at the stack of poems again. Yeah. This is fine! Her getting flustered is cute too, but jeez, he's not merciless... The poem's quality already betrays how eloquent he isn't, so "cute as hell" is the best line he's got right now. He's... satisfied.

So, poetry. Just smack him or something when those minutes are up, you know, for obvious reasons.]

[One day his lame compliments will make her laugh. One day. Until then, though, even the most cringe-worthy lines are going to be met with this right here, because it's not like she hears that she's cute or anything on a regular basis. And hearing it from him is—well, you know what? It's best not think about that while she's trying to calm down.

But when she's absolutely positive that she isn't going to drift off the floor, she peels her hands away from her face and looks up at his... back. Ah. Giving her both time and space was a kind thing to do, but that isn't a new thing for him; he's always kind, and he's always thoughtful, and she feels her heart speed back up as she continues to silently study him. She feels warm? Not like she was a moment ago, when she thought that she was going to die—this is a different, almost softer type of warmth, and for once she doesn't try to fight it. Things are complicated enough.

So no, she isn't going to smack him; instead, she's going to take a step forward, loop her arm through his, and lean against him, although she doesn't look up at him as she does so. They can both stand here and stare at the stack of paper like it's the most interesting thing in the world.]

[If he ran home and got his cool marker, he could make the classiest flip book of all time with these pages... He's just idling over here while Ochako takes her minute to calm down. It's fine, for the moment; he still can't hear her, so that's garbage, but this silence is a different kind of silence. Something more normal, like this is any other ordinary day. Even if she's flustered and he's over here Acting Natural, it's an improvement on the day so far.

Of course, since he can't talk to her, he's dying over here waiting for some kind of response. He'd even take the smack! It'd be fine! It would be something to let go the tension in his shoulders that builds the longer he has his back to her. But, ah--

Leaning against him like this is... new, something softer and different from dragging each other around, hand holding or no. Just being close to her for the sake of being close to her is nice- very nice, and he relaxes after a moment. Stand here staring at paper and appreciating having her at his side? Sounds goddamn great, he's on board to do this for several solid minutes in total silence. It's comfortable, and totally lacking in all of that awkward fumbling from the last time he called her cute, so--obviously, he's gained a charm point.

But they can't stand here all day, so after a little while,] So, uh, you wanna go sit or something?

[He doesn't need to reread his own poem for the tenth time. He's seen it.]

[Hmm, this mountain of paper is fascinating. Ochako keeps her eyes fixed on the top sheet for the first few seconds, wondering if he's going to move away... but he doesn't, thank goodness, and something eases within her. So she isn't the only one enjoying this moment? This shouldn't be a surprise at all, yet here she stands, reading through the poem he wrote for her and finally allowing herself to accept that, oh, this is more than just a friend thing. Almost everything they do together is more than just a friend thing, and the way she cares about him—yes, it is definitely different than the way she cares about her friends, Deku included. Seriously heart-thumping stuff.

None of this is new, of course, and accepting these feelings doesn't mean that she's ready to act on them, but she feels lighter, somehow. Better. It's why she looks up at him when he speaks, a slow smile spreading across her face before she tugs him toward the door. Sitting? Sure, but not on her bed. Down to the shitty couch they go! She will mime her way through a conversation as best she can, and as long as he doesn't tell her that she's cute... well, maybe things will seem a bit simpler on her end.]

Edited 2018-06-06 08:59 (UTC)

[Never seen a better stack of paper, for sure. Loving this stack of paper, except that it's actually absurd and Mr. F needs to stay out of his personal business thank you very much, what a stalker— but, well, Okuyasu can deal with that another time. One look at the smile she gives him is proof enough for him that even without words, she can probably get him to do anything she wants, as long as she looks at him like that and does this, uh, side arm hug leaning thing.

He thinks of Josuke ribbing him for his myriad of flimsy crushes on girls at school back home and decides, no, no way is this anything like that. Flimsy? Not a chance! This is the real shit!

He will workshop the phrasing. Regardless, it's comforting just to be around her, and while he'd rather be able to hear her at all, miming through a conversation isn't so bad. It's pretty, hm... it's kind of funny in parts, actually, when his wild guess at what she's trying to say is so off base it loops around to being ridiculous. Surely not the worst thing in the world, but tiring, and he'll let them drift into comfortable silence after a while. Just sitting. Sitting is excellent. When does he put his arm around her again? Pretty quickly, when she's had it with miming!

And so the long week goes on, but one more thing Okuyasu has to resolve before the narrative moves on some,] Hey, can I hang out here 'til something changes? Don't wanna, y'know...

[be disappointed by ghost messages every morning? Something like that.]

[Coming up with easy-to-understand gestures on the spot is tricky, and so she's more than happy to turn her brain off for a while as she enjoys this new... whatever it is they've settled into. Things are cozier. The arm around her is certainly contributing to this feeling, but it's more than just that. It's almost as if embracing her emotions instead of trying her hardest to bury them allows her to fully relax, and wow, that definitely isn't the single most obvious thing in the entire world. Teens™.

But that question causes her to twist back around to give him a curious look. Of course he can hang out! Unless he means that he wants to, like, camp out here, in which case—oh, he's that worried? She's worried, too, and having him close by while all of this is going on honestly would be a relief, but give her a moment to think before... she nods. And then points down to the couch they're currently sitting on, one eyebrow shooting up, because is this seriously where he wants to sleep for the next day or two? Is he seriously okay with this level of discomfort?]

[With the shitty couch? Of course he is, he's had worse. He just gives her a look for a second, uncomprehending, thinking she's pointing out the couch as if to say here, in general and not the shitty couch itself... She nodded! Did she already change her mind?

But, oh, he sees it now—] Yeah, what's wrong with that?

[Where else would he camp out, the floor?? He would, but it might be weird and Mafuyu would probably step on him to wake him up in the mornings, so that's actually out. Hm!!]

[Nothing!! Nothing is wrong with that, other than the fact that this couch is horribly uncomfortable, but if he's willing to sacrifice a good night's sleep to stay nearby... hmm. Ochako studies him for a moment longer, the corners of her lips curling upward, before she gives his arm a quick pat—it's okay, it's okay—and settles back against him. There's a pile of blankets and pillows around here somewhere that he can use during his short stay; she'll hunt around for it soon. Soon-ish.

And it's a good thing that she does find it, because his one night on the couch turns into two, and then three, and soon it's been six full days since she's said a single word that he can hear. He can hear the things that other people say, though, and while she's happy that he isn't isolated from the world as a whole, watching him talk to other people—even watching him fuss back and forth with Mafuyu—twists something deep inside her. It's like that moment they shared on the first day of this ordeal didn't happen at all; the sense of relief it brought her is gone, and she once again feels tense and awkward and unsure. What if this doesn't end? As crazy as it sounds, what if this zero-communication thing is permanent, and they're stuck in this weird limbo until one or both of them just up and... disappears...

Well, that's an unpleasant thing she's trying very hard not to think about as she sits beside him and watches his new pet lazily leap around. Eminem is cute, in his fat froggy way, and she's trying to smile, but... yeah, even he can't distract her from the fact that tomorrow will make it one full week of silence.]

[It's a strange week, that's for sure; it's not entirely terrible, despite the awkward miming and Okuyasu's 50/50 luck with guesses, but it's not great either. Okuyasu can convince himself to stay upbeat as long as he thinks of this one-way silence as something that's going to go away eventually, but then he wonders just the same if it won't. Are they stuck like this? Is he going to overhear one-sided conversations forever, while he has to make do with just barely comprehensible hand signals?

The end of the week is getting steadily more stressful, it seems. He's watching his dumb frog flop around and thinking about how much more this town sucks when he can't talk to Ochako properly, even when she's right here next to him. They can't even wonder aloud if this is going to go on for much longer or indefinitely! Jesus!

So, the frog is doing its thing, and they're ostensibly having a dull afternoon like the past five afternoons have been dull, and then Okuyasu sighs and pushes himself to his feet, restless. Augh.]

You hungry? [It's too late, it's snack time, come on.]

[No, she isn't hungry in the slightest, but she slowly rises to her feet and follows him into the kitchen, anyway. Snacking on something may prove to be a better distraction than the poor, forgotten frog they're leaving to hop around the living room. Be safe, small one.

The problem with this plan, however, is that she doesn't feel like making anything. She's cooked dinner these past few nights, so she's just going to lean against the counter, watching and waiting for him to gather whatever it is he came in here to gather. Mi casa es su casa, apparently. This is... fun.]

[Yep, here they are in the kitchen, for... snacks. Okuyasu doesn't want to make anything, either ("make"), and he isn't that hungry himself... but it's a new set of walls to stare grimly at, and that's something! Eminem will be fine for a couple minutes without them staring at him, as long as Mafuyu doesn't come along and decide to take the little guy on some kind of wild adventure.

So. The kitchen. The snacks.

He's just slouching back and forth, opening cabinets to glare into them and then shutting them again. This is going great. If this were a normal day they could talk about something! Anything! The frog?! But no. Eventually he turns halfway to look at her, distraught like he was that very first day but also a little tired now, too.]

This has gotta go back to normal, right? Mr. F can't keep this up forever.

[She knows that this is where she should emphatically nod, because of course things are going to go back to normal? They have to. Every weird thing they've been through before this—the talking furniture, the shadows, the color-coded towns—eventually came to an end, and her optimistic self recognizes this fact.

But on top of the worry and the fear and everything else she's feeling at the moment, she, too, is tired. So tired. Nodding seems like an impossible thing for her to do, but instead of shrugging weakly and admitting that she doesn't know the answer to that question—here. She'll just stretch her arms out to him and wait for him to bring it in.]

[There's a logic there even Okuyasu can piece together - these things stop eventually, whether or not some imaginary goal is met, but then there are other things that don't, like Izuku losing his text color, so... It's too up in the air and he hates it, in short. He's done now, thanks Mr. F, let's move on.

Reaching for him like this is a non-answer, and he gets that, but he still slumps where he stands and sighs, first-] Was definitely hoping you'd suddenly say something I can hear...

[Why is life not a romantic comedy? Woe. But with that said, he crosses the short distance to pull her close against him.]

[Their hugs have become tighter recently, have started lingering for just a bit longer, but—ah, being pulled to him like this is new. A good kind of new, though, and she finds herself pressing her forehead against his chest as she slides her arms around him. It's nice to hug him when he's actually standing upright. He's, um. He's very tall! Very solid!

And very silly, because honestly, if only things were so convenient...]

I wish that you could hear me, too.

[Hmm, that sounded a little... petulant? Not that it matters, since he still can't hear her, but now it's her turn to sigh.]

Edited 2018-06-07 09:04 (UTC)

[He's a simple boy with simple, romcom-based desires. What better way to fix this than narrative convenience? He's out of other ideas! He wraps his arms around her even so, and it's true that he can't hear a thing still, but with her pressed so close he can feel the slight movement when she sighs, so at least... they're both incredibly frustrated about this. Not much of a relief.

It's not long before he lets go of her with just one arm to wipe his face on his sleeve, as this time he is definitely tearing up. It's a little bit of everything: almost a whole week, the fear he won't be able to talk to Ochako again, the much broader fear that this will happen to everyone else and he'll be totally left behind... Stupid.]

Shit— sorry.

[Don't mind his stress tears, he is handling this deftly.]

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