Work Text:
October 2017
There were oranges before there was the simple pleasure of love in her life. Like clockwork, every day at 5 o'clock, she sat and waited on a public park bench, constantly peeling an orange and saving the other half on the wooden seat beside her. It was ritualistic. Sitting alone while joggers and teenagers she recognized from school passed with their puppies made sense. She would sit on the bench that was a 10-minute walk from the entrance; the public park enwrapped a man-made pond in the center of it. Trees surrounded her, but the clear stretch of the concrete path around the entire green pond was apparent. The stickiness of the oranges dripping along her fingers kept her company, and if she were all alone- she would look left, then right. Lifting her juice-ridden hand to her lips and licked at the spilled contents of the acidic fruit. The sweet aroma of the citrus fruit filled her nostrils as she breathed in. She never stayed in the park past 7:30, reluctantly leaving the other half on the bench where she sat, always in waiting, forever feeling as if the moment was unfinished. 365 days a year. She started waiting when she was 11 years old, every day in the same spot, yearning for someone to stop and share the orange with her. In the rain, the sun, the snow, the wind, longing. Sometimes, an older lady or two would stop and ask her if she needed anything; she would shrug them off kindly; they would poke and tell her a young lady like herself shouldn't be alone.
“I'm waiting for my Mom.”
Weird. They would give a half smile, looking with pity, and continue their jog, never stopping again to check on her. Then, once the sun got close to setting, she would stand up from the bench, wipe whatever sticky contents of the acidic fruit were left onto her legs, and walk home.
Her Mom never came.
After her private piano classes, she left school later than everyone else on Thursdays. She was always hungry, her throat dry, and desperate for liquid relief, so she packed two oranges. That way, when her mom eventually showed up, they could each have their own and share the pieces of the tangy fruit.
She never did show up.
Eventually, on some days when the rain poured down on her, she didn't mind. Tears and water blended as fingers diligently and gracefully peeled at the skin to get the perfect bite of the orange pod. Never once forgetting to leave the uneaten half of her love on the wooden park bench in insolation.
February 2021
On her 15th birthday, she did not have a party. She did not ask for presents; she simply asked to be dropped off at the public park next to her house as she was tired and the weather was frigid starting in early February. Her stepmother agreed and did just that. When she got out of the car, the older woman watched as she pulled an orange out of her coat pocket, and with a frown, she drove off reluctantly. Although she never told her dad's new wife why she did what she did, somewhere along the way, pages of her diary on the pink desk stated the reason. She walked her trek to her bench, but as she got closer, she noticed someone sitting there already. She stopped, not sure what to do in this situation. It was a boy who absentmindedly was scribbling quickly on a notebook that rested on his knee in front of him. He looked older, and he was not her Mom. Taking the time to build up the courage, she continued walking and sat beside the stranger on the bench. Her bench. The two did not say a word to one another, and she fiddled with the orange in her left coat pocket as he continued to scribble down notes. Take a glance to see what he is writing: superhero sketches. How fanboyish. There was an awkward tension in the air. At least, she thought there was.
Finally, she went for it. She took the orange out and began peeling it. Her fingers were cold in the spring air, so she trembled slightly. Teeth occasionally obnoxiously chattered as she bit down and ground teeth on teeth to stop from gaining the boy's attention. Sometimes, on accident, her thumbs pressed into the skin to hard, cold, tenacious juice flowed down her hands, and the fruit's skin snagged under her nails. Finally, she peeled half of the orange, peeling the extra pieces off and trying to capture the essence on the tip of her tongue as she bit down on the plump tart orange. Today might be the day. She scanned concisely around the park, looking for that familiar figure she last saw five years ago as she left the courthouse, her father dragging her out. She placed the unpeeled other half of the orange, meant for her Mom, between the absorbed boy and her. The awkward tension was no longer there as she rested her hands back into her coat pocket, sitting more comfortably against her side of the bench. It feels nice not to be so alone. I could get used to this. Teenage thoughts ran through her mind as she kept glancing out the corner of her eyes at the boy.
Four or five minutes into the silence, in a quick motion, the green-haired superhero captivated boy beside her, who quickly picked up the uneaten half and plopped the entire portion into his mouth. His eyes were vast, and his mouth was agape with instantaneous regret. “What the hell did you just do?!” She stood up angrily, flailing her arms animatedly as he chewed greedily. Juice flowed from the corners of his mouth, and his eyes panicked as he talked with a mouthful of the fruit meant for her Mom.
“IMSOSOWWY” “WHAT?! I can't understand you!” He put up a finger, a symbol for ‘one moment,’ as he finished chewing, taking a considerable gulp to send the orange down. He smacked his tongue several times and cleared his throat before speaking in a hasty tone.
“I am so sorry.” He looked ashamed as his eyes looked everywhere but to hers. There was so much going on in her head: shock, confusion, irritation, amusement, and an impressed feeling as he ate half an unpeeled orange in one bite.
“I have no idea what just possessed me to do that, and I was so focused on the important information about All-Might in front of me that I forgot I did not bring that orange. I was so hungry. Please forgive me; I'm so sorry, so sorry-”
A laugh erupted from what felt like the bottom of her belly. Laughing so hard, she flailed over to hold her stomach, tears peeking from the corners of her eyes. He laughed awkwardly, joining the fun as the stranger before him was not mad. This only lasted 10 seconds before he realized she was full-on sobbing. The laughter turned to incompressible wallows of childhood pain due to the greediness of a boy who ate her unwanted side of the orange
. “Oh my god…” He got off the bench on his knees, notebook flying to the cold ground as his hands hovered above her back, unsure if he should touch her. She cried into the ground on her knees, bent over, holding her stomach. “I can buy you a new orange, please. I am so sorry-” “It's my birthday today.” She whispered in between sobs. Her gaze lifted to meet his green eyes; her eyes were red and glossy now, and her mascara dripped down to show off her grief. She's pretty. He didn't know what to say now, and the orange tainted his tongue no longer, mouth seemingly dry. There was more silence, sniffles in between the awkwardness in the air. The ridiculousness of the situation set in for her, “My name is Y/N.” All the twists and turns of this stranger- well, now Y/N had his head banging on what would be appropriate in handling this. He quickly rushed his hand out, and she grabbed it and shook it. “I’m sorry about eating your orange again without asking, Y/N.” She felt embarrassed being reminded of how she made the most significant scene in the world over a simple fruit. “That's not a name.”
“Right! Sorry... I’m Izuku.” There was more awkward tension for her as he held onto her hand, offering warmth in the chilly air. “Can I repay you for that orange?”
July 2024
She sat on the park bench that overlooked the man-made pond. Familiar joggers and their dogs passed by, and the summer air smelled fresh. The familiar figure she scanned the park for was no longer the woman who left all those years ago. Instead, a 5’11 broad green-haired man called her to meet her at the park they first had the odd pleasure of meeting at 3 years ago. After that bittersweet day, she stopped showing up with an Orange to wait on her Mom. College was approaching soon, and she often wondered how it might go. First generation and all. Izuku was emerging a little ways down on the concrete path leading to her park bench. He had been growing out his hair, losing the baby face she remembers first meeting. “Hey,” He greeted kindly, sitting down on the left of her. “Hey,” she coyly greeted back. She wanted to say so much to him; she hadn't seen him since the new year when he was back in the large city from his small college town, 4 hours away from the city. “How have you been?” It was a simple question with so much emotion surrounding it; she wanted to say, ‘Are you here because you feel the same way?’
There was some silence, and a solemn look rested upon his face. His green eyes were all the more expressive when they looked over to greet hers once more. “I’ve been good.” There is so much never said between the two. He released an exasperated sound of surprise like he had remembered the most crucial thing in the world. He pulled out an orange from the left side of the grey and white flannel, showing it off as if it were a present to her. Considerable in size and pretty for the color. A quiet gasp left her lips, tears threatening to encapsulate her cheeks almost immediately as her soft eyes rested comfortably on the fruit in his hand. “I almost forgot-” He tried to sound coy when speaking before her, “You brought me an orange?” He stopped to look up at her expression. No amount of romcoms or books he read of love could have prepared him for the adoration that sat in her pupils when she stared at him at that moment.
Frozen smiling soundly as if her look would turn him to stone and ash him away from this Earth. He was putty, and she controlled him. “I did, for us to share.” He handed her the fruit, and she held it like the most valuable jewel ever gracing the planet they walked upon. He took it back and was going to peel it for the pair. As he began, his finger immediately pushed too hard into the skin, where he peeled and pierced it, causing juice to slip down his thumb. “Shit.” It landed on his exposed knees, dripping down his legs to meet the Earth that grounded the two. Her hands gently enrapped his own, head snapping in sudden surprise to meet her smile. When he looked at her face, time froze. The trees surrounding them gave them a place to hide from the sun, and her eyes were glassy as if she were trying not to cry. “Here, let me..” she took the orange from his calloused hands, “Some things you must be gentle with.” Had he not been so attentive to listening and watching her, he wouldn't have heard her words as they were barely said above a whisper.
Like an expert, she delicately peeled the hard protective layer of the citrus fruit down until the white was exposed. He watched closely, with gentle love in his soul that she reciprocated all the more fondly. She separated the orange into two perfect halves and handed one to him. To him, it was the sweetest thing a girl had ever done for him; to her, it was the greatest act of love. For 7 years, she had been waiting to peel an Orange for someone and share it. It didn't matter to her that he didn't know her story or why she waited so long at the wooden bench in Lonesome. All that mattered now was he wanted to eat an orange with her. In silence, the two chew and swallow, tasting the same tart, sweet juice at the exact moment, feeling the same emotions simultaneously for one another in the same breath.
Simply enough, love was peeling an orange in a public park on a wooden bench.