Work Text:
The complex scent of jasmine and saffron clings to the stale air as Shoto slowly makes his way through the classroom, slowly tucking the chairs behind each desk. The warm glow of the summer sunset gliding across his unphased features as he approaches the final desk. The aroma was unmistakable, a trademark if you will, of her.
Momo. Yaoyorozu Momo.
The gentle clap of the erasers echoes through the somewhat vacant room as he paused for a moment, dual-toned eyes fixed on Momo’s silhouette as she leans out the window; thick dark hair caressing her back of her neck as the warm breeze encircled her. A gentle smile gripping her full lips, despite the menial task she had been assigned.
She was captivating. Not due to her looks, although there was no doubt she was attractive enough to warrant such a label. The way in which she carried herself and the smooth sound of her register as she spoke were truly distracting, not to mention the intelligence that exuded from her. Everything about her demanded his attention, something he was only too happy to oblige and surrender to her.
Part of him wanted to call out to her. To ask her to be careful of how far she was hanging out the window in a sincere effort to prevent the chalk dust from reentering the freshly cleaned classroom. But the words hitched at the back of his throat. His inner critic pushing him to say nothing. That it was condescending and not at all what a friend would say. But how was he to know?
Friendship, relationships with others; they were all difficult to navigate. It was exactly for this reason that he avoided forming bonds as much as possible throughout his dimly lit life. Until U.A; then there was her.
Swallowing hard, he pushes in the last chair; the squeak ringing through the air as the rubber feet of the chair drag laxly across the tiled floor. Wincing he quickly withdraws his hands, slipping them into the warm depth of his trouser pockets. He inhales sharply, sensing her gaze fall upon him; gripping him almost instantly.
For a moment, just a moment; his instinct was to flinch. Half expecting a stern comment or hurtful remark as he had been conditioned to expect. Instead, all that greeted him was warmth and the most sincere smile.
It was funny, seeing her flawless uniform, speckled with chalk dust in such a manner. Most well-bred women he had encountered would’ve been put out by such an occurrence. They’d most likely delegate the messy tasks to others even; and yet here she was, covered in dust from her flowy raven locks down to her shiny brown loafers with a shy grin plastered across her full lips. Even after ardently cleaning their classroom together for the past half hour, she still appeared determined to execute everything with the highest precision. Refusing to cut corners even on the most menial of tasks that were easily overlooked by others.
Despite her privileged background, she wanted to work hard and was not afraid to get her hands dirty. It was a truly admirable trait, especially given the fact that many in her position would choose the easier path. The path that money could pave for them, as opposed to the road less travelled by those with endless fortunes backing their already secure futures.
“Thank you for your assistance. I expected no one would offer to help,” Momo confesses somewhat sheepishly, slowly making her way from the window to the teacher’s desk and placing the erasers down.
“Of course, I will always be here to back you up,” Shoto replies earnestly, eyes softening as he watched her slide her bag off the teacher’s desk, slinging it over her shoulder.
Something about her put him at ease. Perhaps the fact that she expected nothing in return for the kindness she gave so willingly, but it was difficult to say.
Momo’s cheeks flush as she starts to make her way towards the door. She spins on her heel, hair splaying in the air as she turns to face him once more, grinning. “Shall we go home together now?”
For years, the concept of warmth brought an onslaught of horrific memories with it that he desperately wished to repress. Yet, the warmth she stirred within him was different. It was foreign in every sense of the word, and not at all chaotic. In fact, it was soothing as was everything about her.
“Yeah, let’s go,” he replies simply, a smile tugging at the corners of Shoto’s lips; his features softening as he tilts his head. There was a bond there, one that exceeded any label he could conceive. Nothing truly felt adequate. There was no rush to define it.
For now, Momo was the sun; pure and unadulterated. By contrast, he was the moon basking in the warmth of her afterglow, silently grateful that they shared the same sky. That alone was enough, for now at least.