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momo yaoyorozu isn’t supposed to make mistakes. it doesn’t matter if they’re something as small as forgetting her phone back at home, or something as bad as screwing up at a recital. they’re all mistakes nonetheless, and as long as she can remember, she has been told that mistakes are a symbol of laziness and carelessness. both were qualities that the yaoyorozu’s couldn’t afford to have, and so, momo had been trained to be as perfect as much as the world could let her. her education must’ve worked, because they called her ‘little miss perfect’ behind her back, which she was pretty contempt with, even if there was always the lingering tone of malice in their hushed voices.
she really doesn’t care about anyone or anything anymore. everything she loves has been shut down and kept away from her because her stupid family tells her it’s unladylike or useless to the point that she’s not even sure why she loved it so dearly in the first place. various instrument cases collect dust in the corner of her room, art supplies and unused canvases are neatly stored away in the depths of her closet, a pair of red roller skates sit untouched in its box.
the only hobby — it doesn’t even feel like a hobby anymore, more of a skill that needs perfecting — she’s been able to keep is the piano. but then again, extensive hours of practice, recitals and performing at her parents’ many parties have worn down her love for the instrument. she can never have a thing for herself, it seems.
the small electric piano in her room had been untouched for months. her parents still refuse to admit the fact that momo has lost interest in it, they say to friends that momo wouldn’t touch the instruments because of its subpar quality. others don’t need to know that the music quality isn’t the problem at all, they don’t need to know that momo yaoyorozu genuinely doesn’t want to play the piano anymore.
her parents were buying a new piano.
sigh.
they said to practice with the ones at school for the time being, and as much as she wanted to refuse, she knew her parents gave her not a choice, but a command. and so, her name had been signed in the registration slot for one of the practice rooms in yuuei’s music department. the school’s music courses was one of the finest in the country, and was the reason yuuei was such an esteemed highschool. countless composers, producers and musicians had graduated from the highschool, so every year, it was a battle amongst young and upcoming musicians to earn their spot in the student body.
momo’s parents had basically bribed the principal to let her in, much to her dismay. she knew she could’ve gotten in on her own accord with no problem — she didn’t like to play the piano, but she was still extremely good at it, and even without the piano, her grades alone could’ve earned her a spot in the school — but her parents couldn’t possibly pass up on another opportunity to flaunt their ever growing wealth and influence.
the tall girl sighs, shaking out the tenseness in her hands as she enters practice room 1-a. it’s about the size of a small recording booth with the slight odour of violin resin hanging in the air. a piano is backed up onto the furthest wall, and a few empty music stands stand untouched in the vacant space next to it. a few instrument cases are stacked neatly against the left wall — momo wonders why all of them seem to be owned by one person — , and a small shelf with a few corny inspirational quotes — once again, momo ponders on why they have to be framed — and a metronome hang on the right.
it all feels a little cramped for momo’s taste, but nonetheless, she sits on the piano bench, places her soft fingers on the keys and plays.
the soft melody that follows seems to alleviate the feeling of pressure that had been building up in momo’s chest for days. fingers dance along the keys freely, even with the lack of sheet music or vision as she closes her eyes, letting the beautiful sound engulf her fully.
she immediately flinches when she hears a wrong note, hands backing away from the keys. admittedly, mistakes are common when momo plays the piano, but something about the wrong key bothers her so much. embarrassment burns through her body, and she can’t help but slap her hands down on the keys in frustration.
“you seem really stiff when you play,” a voice says from behind her. momo’s back straightens and she holds back a startled scream. “also, uh, i booked this practice room for the afternoon.”
“oh?”
“yea,” comes a slightly sympathetic response.
momo turns around in her seat to face kyouka jirou, who has a giant instrument case in their right hand, and a purple backpack slung across their left shoulder. dark eye bags are present on their face, as if they haven’t gotten a decent night of sleep in weeks. oversized and worn black and grey clothes make their pale face stand out more than usual, but something about the musician seems so bright. they have the type of aura that drags people in, even if they’re just standing around and doing nothing. it’s still a mystery to most of the school on how jirou seems to be able to maintain a conversation with bakugou and not have it end in the blonde screaming a string of curses and getting dragged away by his boyfriend. even weirder, bakugou seems calm around jirou. it’s fascinating to momo.
admittedly, momo’s slightly jealous of jirou. she wouldn’t say that she’s super extroverted per se, but she really misses the presence of people around her, and not just friends of her parents and their equally arrogant children or the girls from her private middle school that all ditched her when momo had come out as a lesbian. momo had thought the girls would accept her no matter what — that’s what they had promised —, but it only resulted in more rumours, tears and parents getting involved. momo would like to say that her parents aren’t homophobic — they probably knew homophobia would put a significant dent in their company’s image — but she couldn’t ignore the way her parents denied momo’s sexuality, passing it off like it was some scandalous rumour, treating it like some plaything that momo had an unhealthy attachment to. she misses the kids from grade school who never bothered to acknowledge momo’s family and their importance. to them, she was just another kid to play with. nothing more, nothing less. but now, since they’re older, everyone knows. now everyone knows how filthy rich momo is, and how her parents could possibly ruin someone’s lives within the blink of an eye out of a whim. people avoid her like she has that power too, but really, she’s the one that’s getting her life slowly picked apart by her parents the most. she misses having real friends and friendgroups who do dumb shit together.
not that she would even know how to act once she got friends. her peers milled around in packs, hands covering mouths and whispers hanging around in the air like the way dewdrops clung onto leaves in the early morning sun. momo thought she could understand the others if she tried hard enough, she knew she was capable of it. she could understand advanced formulas like it was something as simple as a yes or no question, had an advanced vocabulary that made even her english teachers squirm in their seats, monologues in different languages rattled off like nothing.
the others finished their math packets in a little over an hour.
it takes her thirty minutes.
she didn’t quite understand why, but kids her age treated her knowledge like it was some sort of illness. usually avoided at all costs because apparently it was lame to memorize the periodic table in her free time, but sought after whenever they needed it. linked arms and compliments, momo noticed, were only present on days before a test or project was due.
momo would say that her jealousy towards jirou consists partially because of their musical talent and because of that loud ass friendgroup they’re in. jirou’s known to be a little more quiet and reserved than others, but they still have denki’s arms slung across their shoulder, mina painting their nails and the whole of yuuei looking at them with expectant eyes.
almost everyone at yuuei high school knows who kyouka jirou is; the musical prodigy who’s been rumoured to become one of yuuei’s most talented musicians after graduation. they’re always seen walking through the hallways with one or two instrument cases in their hands, sheet music present on their desk in replacement of textbooks, old guitar picks substitute as flashy earrings and clips of their singing from the school festival last autumn still play on students’ phone screens. momo guesses that the sprawled purple signature embroidered onto the many instrument cases in 1-a belong to them as well. jirou is everything momo isn’t, known to be the mysterious musical genius that everyone adores and looks up to. on the other hand, momo is known as the prissy rich girl, and as much as she tries to escape that label, it’s been too beat onto her for it to be erased overnight.
jirou bent down to gently place her instrument case down. momo was still glued to the piano bench, hands fiddling nervously in her lap.
momo starts rambling, “i apologize, i must’ve made a mistake with my scheduling. i thought that i was supposed to—”
it’s just a small mistake, momo. it’s fine, really.
jirou starts waving their hands around, a flustered pink creeping up on their cheeks, “ah, no, you don’t have to apologize. really! it’s just a small mistake anyways.”
still a mistake nonetheless.
“right,” momo mumbles under her breath. she stands up from the bench, hands still feeling clammy and tense. she awkwardly slings her bookbag on and turns to leave, when jirou’s eyes shoot open with a glint of hopefulness.
“yaoyorozu? uh, you can stay if you want. i really don’t mind.” they fidget again, pushing a purple lock of hair behind their ear. out of nervousness, momo’s eyes linger on the many piercings on their ear, finding comfort in examining the little details in each stud or dangle.
there’s a hint of pleading in their voice that momo can’t quite understand. socials cues like these make momo feel like she’s learning a new language all over again.
“no,” momo spits out a little too quickly, a little too harshly. jirou’s face crumbles slightly, but they nod. she’s quick to add, “i really don’t want to interrupt your practice. i know how important it must be to you.”
“oh.” momo can’t tell if the breath they let out was of relief or frustration; maybe both, maybe neither.
momo is a hundred times more confused now. was she supposed to say yes? jirou’s brows are crinkled together, as if they’re deep in thought. fingers drum against the side of their thighs. silence crashes down on momo in thick, dark waves, leaving her no chance to breathe. she’s always relished in the silence when she was younger, yearning for it, but now, it was just as unbearable as the snide comments from her mother or the too obvious comments from the boys.
“well, no worries. you can always come by when you feel like it, though,” jirou shrugs. a tall instrument sits in their lap as they gingerly screw the mouthpiece into the silver neck. a bass clarinet. the next phrase comes out a little more softer, with some sort of vulnerability that momo is too used to hearing in her own voice. “only if you want you, i guess.”
“i’ll certainly think about it, jirou.”
jirou smiles and momo almost regrets saying no.
almost.
~
jirou isn’t extroverted by any means. more of a follower than a leader; tagging along with the self-proclaimed bakusquad, never one to insert theirself into conversations like mina or denki do. always fiddling with guitar strings or phones rather than emotions that hang around in the air like open wounds. sometimes they’ll drop a sarcastic comment once or twice, but for most of the time, jirou is a silent presence. if one thing’s clear, it’s that kyouka jirou is terrible at emotions, whether it be handling their own or having to deal with the ones of others. to be fair, literally everyone else in the bakusquad is either slightly decent with feeling and emotions and shit or just downright ‘if you want make me talk about my fucking feelings i will curb stomp you’. jirou would say that they fell into the latter.
they much rather reside in their music, even if that sounds like a generic cliche used in coming of ages movies. music can be frustrating more often than not — lyrics become illegible scribbles on paper, violin strings have to be tuned again and again and still don’t sound quite right, melodies and harmonies bounce around in their mind and leaves a bitter taste in their mouth when it doesn’t fit just right — but something about it can be so calming sometimes. they find it easier to pick apart at hidden meanings and symbolism in lyrics rather than pick apart at someone else’s struggles, because what if they say something wrong? for jirou, pouring out feelings of numbness and frustration comes easier in the form of music, whether it be writing their own or blasting music at midnight.
so that’s how they ended up blasting ‘i wish you liked girls’ by abbey glover on repeat in mina’s dorm room. thank god for dorm rooms jirou thought. they didn’t know what would’ve happened if they didn’t have the luxury of sneaking into mina’s room to rant about all the constant bullshit that happened in jirou’s life.
but this also means that they have to deal with mina’s bullshit in the process.
“mina, you know i can tell when you film me,” jirou grumbles, hugging one of mina’s plushies closer to their chest. jirou had decided they had had enough of crying to gay songs, and was now projecting their frustration onto a stuffed owl; poor thing. even if jirou was more concentrated on the computer screen in front of them — something about aggressively straight romcoms were comforting to jirou — they could still see mina’s phone case hovering at their head level. she really ought to get a less flashier case if she didn't want jirou to know when she was filming or not.
mina rolls her eyes, but drops her phone on the bed, lifting her hands with an over dramatic flair.
“i have to satisfy my 70k tiktok followers with something , ji,” mina pouts, leaning against the wall behind her. “you’re no fun. videos of gay yearning always do well.”
jirou takes the owl and bonks mina on the head with it. hard. jirou’s laptop almost gets shoved off the bed by mina’s foot and the two scramble around for a few seconds to avoid from dropping the laptop on the floor.
“hey!” mina rubs her head, further messing up her crazy head of pink hair. “that hurt!”
“bitch, this is a literal squishmallow, how can that hurt?” jirou scoffs, arching an eyebrow. “also i’m not yearning,” jirou protests, despite mina scoffing loudly and knowing themself that, yes, they’re yearning. a lot .
mina doesn’t hesitate with closing netflix and bringing up jirou’s recently played tracks on spotify. she turns the screen towards jirou with a satisfied look on her face that they almost want to slap off — too bad they’re too tired to do shit anymore; rehearsal was a bitch and their section was worse than usual.
“babe, you were literally playing your own playlist titled ‘i want a girlfriend really fucking bad’ at max volume. if that isn’t yearning then i don’t know what is,” mina snickers, opening the netflix tab again before jirou continues to beat her with the owl squishmallow which now lays on the floor like a sad bitch.
“i am this close to taking my hearing aids out.”
“ooh how threatening, ji,” mina says sarcastically, clapping her hands together.
jirou promptly takes out their hearing aids, a satisfied smirk growing on their face.
“ bastard,” mina signs.
“ love you too.”
jirou slips their hearing aids back on again. although the silence is quite comfortable sometimes — no more having to listen to bakugou screaming at another child on roblox or that one trumpet kid deku rambling about something again during practice, although he’s pretty sweet — they still miss the quiet sounds around yuuei. rain splattering across the windows in the dark of night, tired voice calls between their friends at 3am, the gentle hum of their bass guitar. things like that. they had already spent two years letting their hearing slip away bit by bit and not being able to enjoy the gentle voices of the world to its full extent, always scared to tell their parents because kid jirou thought that things like this was just like a common cold; it would just get better eventually. well, uh, wow they were wrong.
“okay, but when are you gonna ask her out?” mina immediately chirps up. jirou pauses the movie again.
“dude, i don’t even know if she likes girls.” hence why they had been blasting ‘i wish you liked girls’ in mina’s dorm for the past half hour.
mina bursts out laughing, a sound that always catches jirou off balance but comforts them, nonetheless. it sounds like the first song of a concert setlist; loud and unrestrained and bursting with energy.
“jirou, have you seen momo? there is no way in hell that yaomomo is straight. i mean people said that she came out the summer before highschool but i’m not entirely sure. and she has the motherfucking strawberry dress,” mina says like this is some groundbreaking evidence that screams ‘momo yaoyorozu isn’t straight’.
“i don’t think a dress proves anything.”
“have you seen a straight person wear that dress online. answer honestly.” mina is on her knees now, hands gripping jirou’s shoulders. her eyes are wide and a sort of desperation creeps into her voice, as if the world depends on jirou’s answer.
“no?”
“exactly!”
jirou’s a little confused but lets mina rattle off all the reasons why momo yaoyorozu isn’t straight. they’re only half listening, which mina seems to take note off, because she quickly shuts up and goes back to pestering jirou again.
“are you even gonna ask her out eventually?”
they pause, a hesitant ‘no’ caught in their throat. that’s the easy answer that their friends have heard over and over and over again. they ask them the same question almost daily, expecting a different answer each time, and always rolling their eyes with a smirk on their faces when jirou spits out a flustered ‘no’.
jirou tries a new answer this time, not really sure if they mean it fully. “maybe?”
“that’s a new answer!” mina beams.
jirou slides down to the floor to retrieve the owl, squeezing it to their chest again. the too-white whining of peter kavinsky starts playing in the background again, even though jirou is too occupied with their own thoughts to give the movie any attention. they really don’t know what to do. well, for one, there’s the chance of momo being straight and embarrassing themself if she ever confesses or some shit. and then there’s the slim chance in momo actually liking girls and liking them. then what? they’ve watched countless romcoms and have taken a peek at bakugou’s manga collection, but they don’t know a single thing about relationships and how they’re supposed to work. jirou would probably say the wrong thing, do something monumentally wrong and screw over both their and momo’s reputation, which they imagine is the last thing both of them would want, relationship problems or not.
they love momo. that’s the only thing they know for sure. they love her laugh, as gentle as the quiet chirping of birds in the morning sunlight, and her ever so kind eyes that look at everything with curiosity and genuine love. something about her presence is so relaxing; it pulls you in like a hug after a long day and makes you feel at home. jirou knows that no one in this world is perfect, but in their eyes, momo is.
“actually,” jirou starts, burying their face deeper in the plushie, hoping that maybe mina won’t hear their absolutely dumb idea, “if you can figure out if she actually came out before highschool, then i’ll ask her out.”
mina screeches with excitement, jumping down on the floor with jirou. her eyes looks like there are fucking stars in them and holy shit does jirou immediately regret saying anything. they know for a fact that their friend isn’t going to rest until jirou finally asks momo out; half out of wanting one of her closest friends to get into a relationship, and half out of wanting a good laugh out of whatever the fuck was going to happen now.
“no take backs?”
jirou pauses. thinks once. twice.
they were absolutely going to regret this.
“... no take backs.”
~
when mina ashido comes running to her desk at 9 in the morning, momo doesn’t know if she should stay put or run away. something about a caffeine-fuelled girl that she hasn’t spoken a word to before charging towards her set off multiple alarms within momo. either she had done something to piss her off — apparently she pissed a lot of the girls at yuuei for some unforsaken reason — or mina genuinely wanted to talk to her. she decides that it isn’t going to be the latter.
“hey, yaomomo!” mina smiles as she pulls up a chair in front of momo’s desk. momo offers a half smile, before ducking her head to focus on her textbook again. their teacher had left them to their own devices for the period, saying he had some important business to wrap up, which probably wasn’t the best idea on his part. students mill around the classroom, all amongst their respective groups, talking loudly amongst themselves. fucking ‘quiet study session’ her ass.
“hello, ashido,” momo finally offers when the pink-haired girl remains, only a giddy smile painted on her face. it’s impressive how much energy mina has at this hour, whatever ungodly liquid she’s consuming, momo desperately wants it. after she had returned to her dorm the previous evening, she had planned on taking a genuine break. maybe a nap or the rare binge watch on netflix and definitely not pulling an all nighter because god why couldn’t she just say no to people and proofreading their stupid essays. she accidentally lets a tired groan slip by that ashido must’ve interpreted as a frustrated stop bothering me because she’s already standing up and pushing her chair back, eyebrows furrowed in worry.
“sorry,” mina’s voice comes out surprisingly quiet with a genuinity that momo still isn’t used to hearing, “i didn’t mean to bother you. i’ll just—”
“mina. i can call you that, right?” mina’s eyes widen in pleasant surprise. “i mean if you need help, i can assist you. i’m just tired, that’s all.” momo tries to make her voice sound as neutral as possible, but she’s half-sure she can hear the slight tone of pleading in it, like a person begging their friend to stay, just for a few minutes. mina doesn’t seem to note the pleading, but stays regardless.
“so, what is it you need help with?”
“oh, nothing with homework, actually. just a personal question i had.” mina smiles. “this might come off as really weird but, are the rumours true?”
momo feels her heart sink into her stomach. what rumours? which rumours?
“what do you mean? i wasn't aware there were more rumours about me being spread through the school,” momo says with a slight scowl, not really wanting to know what people were saying about her now
mina manages to look a little bashful, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly. her voice dips down lower, barely louder than a whisper. she leans forward over momo’s desk and whispers into her ear. momo couldn’t have possibly prepared herself for what mina was going to say.
“you’re not straight, are you?”
huh .
momo blinks, her whole body feels like it’s been put on pause. her classmates in the background slip away from her vision, and all she can see is mina mina mina. she doesn’t know how to feel. she’s knows she’s not straight, far from that, really. but something about people knowing all over again makes the knot in her stomach grow bigger by the second. momo’s slightly relieved that it’s mina of all people asking her — the girl has pink hair and is wearing a pair of venus earrings goddammit — but there’s still the feeling of dread that pounds away at her mind.
people are going to know. they’re going to know and there’s a chance everything is going to go to shit. fuck fuck fuck FUCK.
but then again, didn’t momo want people to know? that was the reason she had told her middle school “friends” in the first place, because she wanted them to know the real momo, and not just the “I’M A VERY PASSIONATE ALLY” momo. she was sick of being shoved in the closet whenever she was at school or at home.
momo was aware that she was pretty much sleep-deprived and definitely not like her usual put-together self, and she was probably going to regret this the next day—
ah fuck this.
“yes, you could say that i’m not straight,” momo said politely. if mina could hear the evident tremble in momo’s voice, she didn’t show it. oh god, she was really going to regret this when everyone at school knew by tomorrow, but it felt good. despite her shaking hands and breathing that felt a little too forced, it felt really good.
~
jirou had a really bad headache. they had barely enough energy from pulling another all-nighter again — insomnia was an absolute bitch and they had ran out of melatonin gummies a few days prior; shinshou had offered some of his but they both knew the consequences of sneaking out of their dorms past midnight — and everything was so fucking loud even when their hearing aids were set to filter out background noises and whatnot, because there was plenty of that in a highschool classroom with an obvious lack of their teacher. the theater kids were putting on an impromptu performance of hamilton with their garbled english, a transfer kid from canada looking at them with a bemused face. the volleyball kids managed to get an actual fucking volleyball and were tossing it around the class, while yelling extremely loudly. and there was also the god awful soundcloud rapper-esque music blaring from one of the boys’ speakers. jirou was this close to yelling at everyone to shut the fuck up.
their friends tried to stay as quiet as possible, knowing how much loud sounds overwhelmed jirou, especially in their current half-dead state, even though it was more out of respect; them staying silent barely did shit.
“oi, you good there, ears?” bakugou asks, tapping jirou lightly with his pencil. his voice has that annoyed tinge to it — because it’s fucking bakugou, what did you expect — but it’s quieter than usual and has the smallest tone of sympathy to it that only seems to appear every once in a blue moon.
jirou lets out a tired laugh, lifting their head to look at bakugou. “you think?”
bakugou lets out a disgruntled noise, just as mina makes it back to the cluster of decks in the back corner of the room, her smile as bright as the sunlight that pours into the classroom from the small slits in the windows.
“what are you so smiley for, ashido?”
mina just sits back down next to jirou, and immediately whips her head around to beam wider at the purple-haired musician. everyone in their small squished-together group raises a half-curious and half-expectant eyebrow at the girl, who seems to pay them little to no mind.
mina smirks, “you promised me, ji.” even though jirou’s mind is still hazy from all the noises and the headache that just won’t leave them alone, they somehow immediately get what mina means and groans loudly. if they hadn’t before, now they certainly regretted what they had said in a half-asleep stupor the previous night.
“ooh! promised what?” denki asks, leaning forward and propping his elbows up on the desk. “omg, did you guys make like a bet or something?”
"yea!” mina squeals before quieting down when jirou winces slightly, a line of pain evident in their shoulders as they tense with a hand clasped tightly over their right ear. “our jirou might finally get themself a girlfriend today,” mina continues in a hushed voice.
chaos breaks loose at the bakusquad table within milliseconds. denki, kirishima and sero’s jaws drop, looking from mina to jirou with excited eyes. bakugou smirks and says something that jirou can’t quite hear clearly, but they can tell it’s something along the lines of ‘fucking finally, jirou’. shinshou’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but continues to stay silent.
jirou curses profusely under their breath. okay, now all of their friends are actually expecting them to ask out yaomomo, and they were definitely going to give them genuine living hell if they backed out of the promise they made with mina.
fan-fucking-tastic.
this was going to go great .
“c’mon, let’s be rational. she probably doesn’t even like me back,” jirou chuckles softly. “i’m just going to make a fucking fool out of myself—”
mina stands up and cups jirou’s face in her hands, a slightly incredulous expression present in her face as if she can’t believe jirou just said that. can you believe this bitch? is the sentence that seems to be etched in her face and jirou can’t help but scoff a little. jirou can’t really grasp why mina’s so surprised, they’re a socially anxious bitch who constantly texts the bakusquad groupchat at 3am to make sure that they’re not being a burden, that they’re still a friend worth keeping around, and mina knows how much jirou cares about if people like them or not. they’re one of the best known students at ua, and that comes with hundreds of pairs of eyes boring through your back at any time during the day. even now, jirou is sure that they catch the gaze of a boy from the other side of the classroom; his gaze is stone-cold, but seems to blaze a hole through their hoodie. they sink down deeper into their chair.
if insignificant nobody’s seem to hate them even if they hadn’t done shit , what was stopping momo from hating them as well? what was stopping everyone from hating them? sure, they never did anything explicitly bad that would allow people to openly hate them, but they were also “yuuei’s most musically talented student” and a favourite of most of the teachers. didn’t everyone usually hate people like that?
and jesus christ, what were they doing, trying to confess to momo yaoyorozu? jirou’s mind races with everything that could — and probably would — go wrong, and their heart seems to want to join in on the race too. great .
shit.
shit.
shit.
not this again
okay why the actual fuck were their hands shaking now.
jirou knew the signs of an anxiety attack when they saw — or rather, felt — them.
they shoved their hands into the pockets of their sweatpants, hoping that nobody had seen the violent shaking. they were probably just overthinking again, and their body was reacting to something that wasn’t a threat at all.
everything was fine.
well, they knew it wasn’t really, but thinking it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine it’s fine gave them some sort of false security, although it was only for a few quick seconds. because it reality none of this fucking shit was fine. far from it, really.
they didn’t want their friends to worry about something so small; they were having fun teasing jirou about their little crush, they couldn’t just ruin that for them because of their stupid anxiety and their stupid thoughts.
their head hurt even more now.
jirou is fully aware of mina rattling on all the features of them that made them so much more likeable — “like, who wouldn’t fall for a fucking bass player? it’s an universal truth that bass players are really fucking hot.” — but they just really want to get out of here before they cause a bigger problem.
“ji?” mina asks, breaking out of her ramble when jirou stands up, concern etched into her browline. everyone at the table stops and looks up at them. their hands are still shaking inside their pockets.
fucking hell. now people are worried. wow, jirou how great.
“‘m fine.” jirou's aware that their tone sounds unconvincing as shit, since it only makes mina’s frown deepen even more. “too loud in here. just gonna go to the bathroom or some shit. i’ll be back in five.”
maybe more, maybe less. jirou doesn’t know themself.
they knew that pulling an all-nighter was going to be a bad idea. but then again, they knew that constantly thinking that every human on the face of the earth hated them and letting those thoughts fuel the ever-flowing anxiety that pulses under their skin was a bad idea, but here they were, doing just that.
~
mina walks over to her lunch table with less hop in her step than usual, lunch tray firmly clutched with two hands, trying best not to knock her precariously placed phone off and towards the ground. she keeps staring at the cracked screen, expecting it to light up any second and deflating when it doesn’t.
she hasn’t seen jirou ever since english ended, and mina’s many text messages or calls haven’t gone through. she had even looked through all the universal bathrooms around the school, in hopes of finding jirou, but to no avail.
she knows that jirou doesn’t want them trying to find them when they just up and leave like that — it just overwhelms them even more when more people get involved; something about people worrying about them making them even more anxious and even more shitty in general. mina didn’t really get it — but mina can’t help but worry. it’s not every day that five minutes turn into two hours.
mina sets her tray down and squeezes in a spot on the bench next to sero.
“anyone get through to ji?”
denki shakes his head, making figure 8’s in his bowl of curry. “i asked aizawa-sensei and hizashi-sensei as well but apparently they haven’t seen them as well. maybe they went back to the dorms early?”
everyone shrugs, shoulders slightly stiff and eyebrows crinkled.
“hopefully they’re okay. they usually don’t go to the dorms unless it’s really serious…” mina thinks out loud, rubbiing the back of her neck.
“they’d tell us if it was bad, right?” denki murmurs.
“use your brains, dunce face, when has ears ever asked for our help?”
“...”
"exactly."
~
momo doesn’t know if she goes back to practice room 1a because she wants to, or because she hears something unusual behind the sliding doors. or rather, doesn’t hear anything, which is peculiar because the small chalkboard beside the door has been filled out with the name ‘kyouka jirou’ in wobbly chalk letters, and the yellowish light from behind the small window spills into the hallway outside. she hears awkward shuffling from behind the door, but no low hum of a bass clarinet, or the melodious sounds of a piano.
she doesn’t know much about jirou, but she knows that it’s abnormal for their practice room to be this quiet. momo doesn’t really know why, but she’s worried. worry courses through her and something in her mind makes her think that if she doesn’t try to talk to jirou, something’s gonna go wrong. or maybe she’s wrong. maybe.
she knocks, but is met with more silence that surrounds her like an uncomfortable weight, each second she just stands there waiting makes her doubt her decision even more. momo’s convinced she’s being stupid again; jirou probably just wants to be left alone
despite momo’s extremely loud internal screaming, she tries again, knocking a little softer this time.“jirou? are you in there?”
more shuffling.
“are you alright?”
“i’d be lying if i said i was,” jirou says with a weak laugh, sounding like a half-asleep person trying their best to stay awake, and being pretty bad at it. jirou sounds like they’ve been crying, their voice a little hoarse and rough at the edges.
“is- is there anything i can do?” momo asks, shifting her weight from one foot to another out of nervous habit.
momo swears she hears the same tone of pleading from the day before, but this time around, she knows what jirou needs.
“this probably sounds really fucking dumb, but… stay? just for a few minutes, if you’re not—“
momo slides the door and meets eyes with jirou, who’s curled up in a ball on the floor and visibly shaking.
jirou offers a smile, trying to make up for the slightly concerning state they’re in. dark circles that momo can’t tell if they’re from lack of sleep or rubbed eyeliner seem to pop out more under the warm light in the practice room. their eyes are red-rimmed and slightly puffed, probably from crying. and most concerningly, she can see angry red marks over the sides of their face and areas of their arms that isn’t covered by the sleeve of their hoodie, as if they had been pressing down into them with their fingernails.
“nice to see you again, yaomomo.”
momo walks into the room and slides down to floor, sitting next to jirou. the musician flinches at the sudden contact when their thighs press together unexpectedly, but continues to examine the floor.
“if you don’t mind, could you perhaps tell me what’s wrong? i would feel a little useless if there was actually something i could do and i didn’t know,” momo asks gently; like a butterfly landing on your nose. jirou buries their head deeper in between their knees.
“nothing big, really. just anxiety attacks and shit. they happen all the time and i just like to hole up in here while they go on,” they murmur softly. “when the world feels like it’s crashing down on my shoulders, i immediately think oh shit everyone hates me so i guess that’s why i take comfort in this dumb music room. i know that if things go to absolute shit and everyone leaves me, i at least have my music, and that really calms me down, i guess. it probably sounds like bullshit, now that i say it aloud.”
jirou cringes at themself as they realize that they’ve been rambling and goes silent again.
“i don’t think that’s stupid!” momo says a little too enthusiastically, although jirou seems to appreciate her genuinity, because god, they flash that infectious smile of theirs and momo realizes that she definitely doesn’t regret knocking on the practice room door.
“would it help you if i played something on the piano?”
~
jirou has had an unfortunate amount of anxiety attacks, most of them starting because they were overthinking before a recital or a concert or stupidly hard to decide decision that teachers grilled into their heads would be vital to their future, and most of them ending in pushing all of their friends away and drowning out the outside world with mitski or phoebe bridgers. they definitely hadn’t expected an anxiety attack ending with playing the piano with momo yaoyorozu’s body pressed up against theirs, but they guess that they can’t always hole up in their room.
momo adjusts her skirt before placing her fingers on the keys, the starting notes to canon d major fills the small practice room. jirou can tell that the piece has been memorized from the way momo carries herself with the music, body slightly swaying from left to right and hands loose on the keys. her face is filled with tranquility, just like the calm face of an unbothered river, and jirou feels their heartbeat calm before they raise their hands to the keys too.
jirou almost smirks; she picked a perfect duet song. an invitation to play.
as the song progresses, jirou finds their hands brushing the side of momo’s constantly and finds themself enjoying the temporary warmth. her slight touch feels like sunlight on their skin, the fleeting brightness of a shooting star that jirou wishes could stay forever. but of course, all songs end eventually.
jirou’s fingers stay there on the keyboard for a few more seconds, as they search for what to say as words bubble up their throat and threaten to spill out of their mouth. momo’s hands drop to her sides, gripping the front of the piano bench, a small smile blooming on their face. the two just stay like for a few minutes, nothing but silence exchanged between them. but it’s not the type of uncomfortable silence before a parent’s lecture or the silence between two friends who are awkwardly hanging on by a single thread. it’s more of the plain silence inside a house on a rainy day, or the calm at 6am in jirou’s dorm. it feels safe.
the shake in jirou’s hands has completely subsided now, their heart now beating at a more comfortable pace. only their mind remains slightly foggy, their thoughts still garbled and headache continuing to pound away at their sanity.
momo turns towards them, head slightly cocked and smile almost as bright as mina’s. they immediately feel some sort of warmth spread across their cheeks and looks down, gazing at their swinging feet below the piano bench.
now what? jirou thinks to themself. thoughts of their bet with mina swims around in their head for a few seconds, before they decide to not act on it, at least not today. they’d rather just wallow in this comfortable silence before it’s broken, which is probably likely to happen if momo i like really fucking like you and i wish you could be my girlfriend please date me spilled out of their mouth.
“i wasn’t too stiff this time around, right, jirou?” momo asks with a slight giggle, recollecting what jirou had said to her the day before. jirou head snaps up, their indigo hair flying in front of their face as they shake their head from side to side quickly.
“no, you were great,” jirou says with a genuine smile. they pause before you adding, “and you can, uh, call me kyouka if you want.”
“already on first name basis, i see,” momo chortles with a slightly teasing voice that sets jirou’s stomach into an embarrassed flutter yet again. “you can call me momo, then. i do know that my family name can be of a hassle for some people to say.”
“well,” jirou rubs the back of their neck, “thank you for this, momo. i feel a lot better now.”
momo’s genuine smile still remains on her face as she replies, “anytime, kyouka.”
god, she’s beautiful.
mina gives them the tightest hug that night when jirou sneaks into her dorm. no words exchanged, just a tight hug that leaves jirou breathless afterwards. and, to jirou’s surprise and relief, the bet made last night seems to have been put on the backburner for now, pretty much forgotten by the exuberant girl. jirou can’t tell if it’s for their sake, or if mina has genuinely forgotten, but they don’t mind.
momo swings by almost everyday, knocking gently before pushing aside the sliding door and letting herself in. they establish a sort of routine over the next days — momo finishes up her homework from the floor as jirou practices a solo part or recital piece, they play a few songs on the piano together, or jirou plays on their violin in a duet, and rarely, jirou sings. it’s never a full song, usually just a few lines or a verse if they’re feeling generous, but nevertheless, momo stays for all of it.
sometimes, jirou still feels like momo is staying out of pity when she had walked in one the last legs of an anxiety attack, but her genuine compliments and reassuring words of i genuinely enjoy hanging out with you, kyouka are enough for jirou to push away their racing thoughts, just for a while.
after a week of hushed conversations and intertwined fingers on piano keys, jirou drags momo along to the bakusquad table at lunch. momo somehow gets along with everyone really well; mina is excited to have another girl in the squad, kaminari is ecstatic to have someone who actually offers to help with homework and bakugou is relieved to have another person to yell at everyone else to fucking take care of themselves, because otherwise there’s no telling if the insomniacs of the group would even get any fucking sleep.
it takes a little under a month for the bet to be completely erased from jirou’s mind, but it doesn’t really matter, because now them and momo are so close that random people in the hallway ask if they’re dating, which both of them scramble to say no with blushed cheeks.
jirou’s crush is still as intense as ever, which makes it significantly harder for them to ignore the teasing glances from her friends or the off-hand comments telling they should just date already. they know it’s all out of love, but god, sometimes she’s five seconds away from slapping off the shit-eating grin that bakugou has whenever momo starts talking to jirou about a new band she discovered over the weekend.
it takes three months for mina to bring up the bet again, which catches jirou by surprise. so mina hadn’t forgotten, that little shit. money and food is offered by jirou, but mina denies.
fucking fuck.
it takes four for jirou to finally kiss momo yaoyorozu in the room they first met in. it was a foggy wednesday afternoon, skies gray from storm clouds and moods low from exams. and of course, jirou was sleep-deprived from having pulling an all-nighter to cram before the exam, head nodding off slowly as momo rambled about a new piano piece she wanted to play. momo had tapped them on the shoulder, voice colored with a teasing quality that jirou was used to hearing now. it was cute.
“you’re so fucking cute, yaomomo,” jirou had accidentally said aloud, hands clapping over their mouth a little too late. “sorry, that was—”
momo had only laughed, a tint of red creeping up on her cheeks. “i would say the same to you, kyouka. you’re quite adorable when you focus on your music.”
fucking FUCK?
“i think i like you,” jirou said under their breath, voice only above a whisper. but it couldn’t have been any louder in jirou’s own mind, thoughts of shit i just said that bouncing around their head as momo seemed to grasp what they had just said.
“if i said i liked you back, would you run out of the practice room or kiss me?” momo asked with a sudden boost of confidence that made jirou giggle and completely disregard the fact that momo yaoyorozu had asked to kiss them. momo. yaoyorozu. wanted. to. kiss. them.
wow.
the two had been slightly too eager, noses bumping together as jirou leaned forward in the piano bench, hands snaking up to jirou’s shoulders as momo’s warm hands settled at their waist. the silent breath they shared after was a little awkward, but jirou could only smile. maybe this wasn’t always going to be so bad, after all.
jirou had screamed so hard on a midnight snack run with denki that day, in which he just replied with a half-asleep you’re so gay. jirou would’ve slapped them, but only hums. because in the long run, both denki and jirou are as gay as it can get.
and it takes four months and a week for them to finally say they’re dating. sweet nicknames that make their friends gag are exchanged from across the lunch table, arms are linked while they walk down hallways, soft kisses are pressed on foreheads. the others pretend they’re disgusted but always make sure to shoot jirou a supportive grin or thumbs-up on the days jirou looks down at their phone with that all-too-familiar frown; usually when jirou is shoved into the mindset of everyone fucking hates me, momo probably hates me too .
they’re infinitely grateful for their friends, and they really do mean that.
“maybe mistakes aren’t so bad after all,” momo echoes one day as they tune their violin from their bed.
“how so?”
“well, for one, they brought me you.”
jirou laughs, ruffling their girlfriend’s hair with a smirk. “you’re lucky i love you, because that was cringey as fuck.”
momo giggles as she climbs up on jirou’s bed, pressing another soft kiss on their lips. jirou’s heart still flutters every single damn time.
“i love you too, kyo.”
and jirou decides as well, that maybe, mistakes don’t always turn out horribly.