Work Text:
Yaoyorozu Momo shivered and shoved her hands in her pockets as she shuffled along between school and the dorms. The weather had said that this would be the coldest week of the year, but she hadn’t really believed it until she stepped outside. A low of -15C, and a high of only -6. And that was the warmest it would get all week!
She wondered if it would snow. She hoped that it would, because at least that would make all the subzero temperatures worth it.
As she shuffled along, her scarf pulled up over her face, and her hat low on her head, she cursed herself for not thinking to bring along her gloves. Her hands would be frozen before she got to school if she didn’t hurry!
But she couldn’t run with all her books in her bag, banging against her hip. And to run would seem unladylike, which Momo never wanted to be.
So, a brisk walk, in the cold, at 7 in the morning, would just have to do.
The cold pricked at her face, icy and biting. She could feel her hair, still damp from her shower that morning, crystallizing, and in a panic, she hoped that it wouldn’t freeze.
She picked up the pace, and as she did so, she couldn’t help but wonder if Todoroki-san felt the cold in the same way as others.
He couldn’t, right? With his quirk, he had to be impervious to both cold and hot. Momo instantly felt jealous; she needed the weather to be temperate. Anything too cold, and she froze, but anything too hot, and she wilted, just like a flower.
But Todoroki-san was so incredible. He could withstand extreme temperatures; he was cool under pressure; he was instinctual, and brave, and headstrong in a way that Momo wished that she could be.
Todoroki-san…
Why were her thoughts turning to him?
Sure, he was an amazing hero already, even though they were still a few months from graduation. And sure, he’d saved her, and several of their classmates, numerous times over the years.
And, sure. He was cute. Very cute.
Red and white hair; heterochromatic eyes that revealed a deep and tortured soul; a sensual mouth; a stacked body underneath his hero costume.
Momo’s blush was, apparently, all she needed to keep warm.
The realization that she had a huge, probably unrequited crush on Todoroki Shōto had taken her by surprise their first year. After he showed that he trusted her, after he admitted that he voted for her in the class rep elections, after he agreed to her terms when they had gone to rescue Bakugō…Momo had found herself looking at Todoroki-san more often, had found him invading her thoughts more often that she would have liked, had found herself gravitating to him, little by little.
The fact that he had not cast her aside after their first final exam, that he had acknowledged her intelligence and her prowess, drew her to him all the more.
They had started out their careers at UA as classmates, but eventually, they became colleagues, and then, they had become friends. Momo should have been happy with that; she should have accepted him as her friend, and that was it. But she couldn’t help the way that her heart raced when he stood close to her; she couldn’t help the way that she stuttered when he spoke to her; she couldn’t help the way that she fell, more and more in love with him, every single day.
And now, here they were, three months from graduation, and Momo continued to love him from afar, despite the urges from her girlfriends to go ahead and tell him—despite the insistence from Midoriya-san that Todoroki-san was bad at reading feelings, but that, were she to make the first move, he would not reject her.
What if she were to admit her feelings, and he were to reject her outright? Or, worse—what if he was, as Midoriya-san said, bad at reading feelings, and didn’t know what she meant?
Gods. She didn’t think she could take either option!
No. No. No.
Better to keep things status quo.
They were classmates. They were colleagues.
She had Todoroki-san’s respect.
She didn’t need his love, too.
Momo rushed along, head tucked into her scarf, hands in pockets, rubbing them against the inside of her coat, trying desperately to keep warm. The sun was shining down, casting a brilliant reflection off the concrete pavement. Momo’s eyes were half closed as she tried to keep her face warm and keep track of where she was going.
How much time until school?
She couldn’t take her hands out of her pockets. She was too cold.
But maybe just quickly, for a moment, so she could tell if she did, in fact, need to break out into that (very unladylike) run…
Wham! Momo slammed into something hard, and stumbled backwards. An arm wrapped around her waist, holding her upright, and Momo blinked, trying to see against the bright sunshine.
“Yaoyorozu.” Gray and blue eyes blinked at her in concern. “Are you all right?”
“Ahhh—” Momo felt as though her entire body was going to burst into flames. “To—Todoroki-san!” She immediately bowed her head, over and over. “I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed. “It’s cold, and so sunny, and I was rushing and didn’t see you!”
Todoroki-san’s face settled into a kind (and handsome) smile. “It’s fine,” he told her. “You must really think it’s cold, if you were going so quickly.”
Momo gaped at him; yes, it was just as she thought! “It’s freezing today, Todoroki-san!” she said. “You—don’t you feel it?”
Todoroki-san shrugged. “It’s a little cool,” he said offhandedly, “but not terrible.” She watched as he eyed her curiously, and she wilted under his gaze. “You have on a hat,” he observed, “and a scarf, and a coat. Isn’t that enough?”
“Yes,” Momo said, “but I forgot my gloves!” She took one hand out of her pocket, and held it out to him. “My hands are so cold!”
“Really?” Todoroki-san looked at her hand with interest. “It doesn’t seem that cold. It’s not blue, or anything. You don’t have hypothermia.”
“Yes,” Momo began, “but…”
“And your nail beds seem to be okay,” Todoroki-san was continuing. “You’re not wrinkly.” He looked back up at her. “You sure they’re so cold?”
“You don’t have to worry about the cold like this,” Momo found herself replying hotly, “because you can just heat up your left side, and your right side is probably impervious to the cold.”
“This is true,” Todoroki-san agreed. “Even when it’s this cold, I guess I don’t have to worry much about it.”
“It is very cold,” Momo replied. “In fact…” Her voice trailed off. She was getting an idea in her head. A bad idea. A very very very bad idea. An idea that, her friends, she was sure, would cheer her on for acting on, but if it went wrong…
Did she dare?
“In fact, what, Yaoyorozu?” Todoroki-san was looking at her again, with his beautiful, mismatched eyes, his brow slightly wrinkled with concern. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
“In fact,” Momo continued, “it’s so cold, I think that…”
She took a deep breath. A very, very deep breath.
“It’s so cold,” she said, “I think that you should hold my hand, so it doesn’t freeze.” She drew her right hand out of her pocket, and held it out to Todoroki-san, whose eyes widened in surprise, and looked from her face to her hand, and back.
Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.
Shit.
“If you’re so cold…” Oh, no, he was talking now? What? “Why don’t you just make gloves, Yaoyorozu?”
Momo blinked, her mouth falling open slightly.
“Why…why don’t I…”
Was this even happening?
It was worse than what she had anticipated.
“Why don’t I make gloves?” she repeated blankly.
“Well, sure,” he shrugged. “You know, use your quirk?”
“Ahhh, oh!” Shit. “Oh, you know, I can’t!” She was babbling; stop babbling, Momo. “You know, if everyone with a creation quirk just…made stuff…what would happen to the economy, you know? I could just make everyone gloves, and then the glove industry would…”
“Ah.” He dropped his eyes from hers, and turned to go. “I see.”
“Oh, but Todoroki-san, wait!” This wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to be close to him. She wanted to hold his hand.
But Todoroki-san just kept on walking. “See you at school, Yaoyorozu,” he called. “You should walk quickly if you want to stay warm.”
But Momo couldn’t walk; she could barely move. All she could do was shiver, and watch Todoroki-san walk away, and shove her hands in her pockets.
He…he didn’t take the hint.
Was he really as bad at reading people as Midoriya-san had said?
Did he really not know what “I think that you should hold my hand” actually meant?
Momo shook her head, and hurried after him.
No…way.
No way!
It was…impossible.
Could anyone…could Todoroki-san…
Really be that clueless?
The next morning, it was again well below freezing (-10C, her weather app read), and Momo was so cold that she ended up taking too much time to get ready for school. In a frenzy, she grabbed her bag, her coat, and her hat, and dashed out of her room—
Only to come face-to-face with Todoroki-san at the elevator.
“Ah, Yaoyorozu,” he said pleasantly as the elevator doors opened, “good morning.”
He looked adorable in his navy blue knit cap and his wool navy blue peacoat. His scarf was a beautiful shade of gray, and matched his eye perfectly. Momo’s breath caught; why was he so beautiful?
He was staring at her now, a slight smile on his lips, and she suddenly realized she was gaping at him, her mouth hanging open, totally caught up in his beauty.
Momo blushed, and dipped her head. “Good—good morning, Todoroki-san,” she stuttered in reply.
“It’s another cold one today, isn’t it?” he asked her as they stepped inside and he pressed the button for the first floor.
What was she supposed to say to that?
“Um…” she fiddled with the end of her scarf. “I think so, yes?”
But Todoroki-san didn’t reply; he simply hummed, and stared at the elevator doors, seemingly lost in thought. When they reached the first floor, the doors pinged, and Todoroki-san walked out, and headed for the lobby doors.
“Wait!” Momo dashed out after him. She had…she had another chance. To see if he would actually hold her hand. To see if he was as oblivious as he seemed. To see if…
“Todoroki-san!” she exclaimed. He paused at the doors, and turned around to look at her. “Aren’t—aren’t you going to have breakfast?”
“Already ate,” he said, pushing the doors open and heading outside.
“Oh! Well…” she scurried after him, still zipping up her jacket as she followed him outdoors into the freezing temperatures, “I’ll walk with you to school?”
“If you want.” He wasn’t waiting; he just walked briskly, hands in his pockets, hat and scarf firmly in place.
“O—okay,” she replied, practically running to keep up with him. He was taller than her, although not by much, but he walked swiftly and with purpose and it was hard for her to keep pace.
Once again, Momo reached into her pockets to pull out her gloves, and once again, she realized that she had forgotten them.
“Oh, shoot!” she said, causing Todoroki-san to look up at her, his gray and blue eyes gazing at her curiously. Shit. She blushed. “I—I forgot my gloves again,” she said feebly.
She thought his lips quirked upwards into a smile. “Is that so?” he said. “I hope your coat will be warm enough, since you don’t want to make gloves. Was it…the economy…yes, right?”
Was he making fun of her? Was that possible?
Could Todoroki-san be funny?
He was smiling at her, wasn’t he?
She thought that he was.
“Uh, yes!” she exclaimed. “Yes, it’s because of the economy that I can’t make my own gloves.”
She watched as he nodded sagely. “Then I hope that your hands will stay warm, Yaoyorozu,” he said, as he turned to continue walking to school.
“Wait!” she called, and jogged after him. He kept walking, but she saw his head turn slightly towards her. “Don’t you think that…” You can do this, Momo! “Maybe you could hold my hand today, to warm it up?”
Like yesterday, she saw his eyes grow wide at the question. “You—you want me to use my quirk to warm your hand, Yaoyorozu?” he asked her seriously. “Like use my quirk for something that you could easily take care of yourself, had you not forgotten your gloves?” His eyes narrowed. “Is that an authorized use of a quirk? As one of our class representatives, should you even be asking me this?”
Momo froze where she stood, and not just from the subzero temperatures. What…what was Todoroki-san saying? Was he right? Was this an unauthorized use of his quirk? Was she asking him to do something that she should not be asking?
But…Uraraka-san used her quirk to help her reach things that were too high on the shelves, and Jiro-san used hers to listen to the boys in the locker room (for some reason, she always wanted to know if they were talking about her), so why couldn’t Momo ask Todoroki-san to use his to warm her hand? To hold her hand?
She bet that his hand was so warm, and nice, and maybe soft, but strong?
Oh, she wanted to hold it so badly.
“Yaoyorozu?” Momo yelped, and jerked her head up, to see Todoroki-san had stopped walking, and was now staring at her, yet again. “Are you coming? We’re going to be late.”
“Y—yes!” she squeaked, and dashed forward to join him, her face completely red, she was sure, and her entire body burning from embarrassment.
But even though she felt totally humiliated by his continued misunderstandings of her request, another feeling was starting to grow…
Curiosity.
What would it take, she wondered, to get him to hold her hand? To get him to figure out that she liked him, that she wanted him to touch her, to warm her up in ways that didn’t necessarily involve his quirk?
Because…he couldn’t be as oblivious as he seemed, could he? He couldn’t be this dense, this disconnected to the world around him.
Momo knew Todoroki-san. She’d seen him in action, on more than one occasion. He was brash, and brave. He took risks; he challenged himself to go higher, to go faster, to be better.
Surely the man that she’d grown to love over the last three years…the one who helped his classmates, always, no questions asked, even the ones who seemed to dislike him (because really, she didn’t think that Bakugō hated Todoroki-san, no matter what he said)...the one who passed tests and exams, both written and practical, and hardly broke a sweat?
Surely this man was not this socially challenged?
She had to know. She had to figure out for herself…
How could she get Todoroki-san to hold her hand?
Every day that passed, Momo tried a different tactic. Since he didn’t seem inclined to want to hold her hand in the morning, when it was cold out, she had to get creative in her requests.
The next day (Wednesday), she (maybe purposefully) tasked Todoroki-san with helping her clean up the classroom. And she (also maybe purposefully) had put the cleaning supplies on top of the cabinet while the class was at lunch, as opposed to inside, which was (logically) where they should have gone.
And when Todoroki-san had opened the cabinet, and seen that the supplies weren’t there, Momo thought she did a pretty good job feigning surprise.
“Oh, look!” she’d exclaimed, pointing to the top of the cabinet. “Who would have put them up there?” She shot Todoroki-san what she hoped was a pouting look as she pulled a desk over to the cabinet. “Do you think that maybe you could…” she began, but when she looked up, Todoroki-san had already clambered on top of the desk, and was handing the bucket and the mop down to her.
“Could you fill this with water, Yaoyorozu?” he asked. “I’ll get the rest of the supplies down.”
And what could she say, except “Sure, Todoroki-san!” and carry the bucket to the bathroom to fill it with water?
So getting him to hold her hand in class was a failure. She needed to regroup.
The day after (Thursday) she thought that maybe she could try something during hero training, and when Aizawa-sensei said that they would be broken up into pairs, she made sure that she was standing close to Todoroki-san, in hopes that Aizawa-sensei would pair them together.
Which, in fact, he did.
Their goal that day was to work with someone else to increase their quirk’s abilities. It meant that Momo would have to make something, something that would enhance Todoroki-san’s own quirks. It was on the spot, but finally she came up with something.
“If we can raise my body temperature,” she proposed, “maybe I can make iron that is malleable, and we can mold it immediately upon creation!” She’d held out her hand. “Here,” she said, “take my hand, and warm me up. Let’s see if it works!”
Todoroki-san had stared at her, long and hard. “But can’t you just make something malleable, with your quirk?” he’d asked her. “Why should it matter if your body is warm?”
“But it would be an experiment, Todoroki-san!” she’d argued. “Let’s see if it works.”
He’d rubbed his chin with his hand, and looked so cute that Momo thought she might faint. “I think it makes more sense,” he’d said, “if I were to heat up whatever you created, right as you made it. This way, you don’t have to think about the changing makeup of the item, right? The chemical makeup of iron, for example, changes when it’s heated, and if you don’t know exactly how, isn’t it more likely that you won’t be able to replicate exactly what you want?’
Well, look who had been paying attention to how her quirk worked?
“That’s—that’s not wrong,” she’d admitted, and turned her back on him so that she could create some bars of iron, which she immediately handed to him, and he began to heat them up. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something.
At the end of class, however, Aizawa-sensei had looked at the results of their work (she’d made a giant fan to help Todoroki-san’s flames develop a better angle), and commented, “Is there a way for the two of you to combine your quirks more effectively?” Then, he’d frowned. “Or perhaps you are simply not compatible.”
“No, sensei!” Momo had countered, maybe a little bit too loudly, but still. Both Aizawa-sensei and Todoroki-san looked a ther, surprised. “Todoroki-san and I are very compatible!” She’d bowed to Todoroki-san, and to Aizawa-sensei. “Let us work together again, and I’m sure we’ll be able to figure something out!”
The way that Aizawa-sensei had looked at her—with a glare that burned right down to her very soul—she thought he must absolutely know what her true intentions were. But, instead of acknowledging them, he’d simply nodded. “Very well,” he’d told them both, “but next time, I want to see a little more creativity, or I won’t be able to pair you together again.”
And then, Aizawa-sensei had walked away, and so had Todoroki-san, waving and saying, “We’ll talk about it later, Yaoyorozu,” before going to join Midoriya-san and Bakugō, who were practicing combining Midoriya’s Black Whip with Bakugō’s AP Shot. Momo couldn’t help but watch them with a sigh—so in sync, so together. They had taken a long time to get to that point, but now, they were practically inseparable, both on and off the practice field. She…
She wanted that with someone.
Maybe I should give up trying to get Todoroki-san to hold my hand, she thought. Maybe it’s fruitless. Maybe he’s just that clueless, or just not that interested.
Four days. Four days of trying to get Todoroki-san to hold her hand.
Four days of failure.
Yeah…maybe Momo would just go back to her quiet, desperate pining.
Friday was the coldest day of the week. And so naturally, Momo had forgotten her gloves, once again.
She’d run to class that morning, no longer worrying about propriety or the like. The temperature read -15C, and the sky hung heavy with the threat of snow. She had her hat, and her boots, so she was ready should the skies open, but in her haste, she had again forgotten her gloves.
It hadn’t snowed in the morning, but it had been so cold that Aizawa-sensei had declared their hero training would take place at Gym Gamma, instead of outdoors at Ground Omega as planned. And sometime after lunch, it had finally begun to snow: light flakes at first, but by the time Aizawa-sensei had dismissed them for the day, the snow was coming down thick and fast.
“Go right back to the dorms,” he had told them, “campus is going to close immediately, and you will not be able to use the gyms, or any of the other buildings, until the storm is over.”
The class had, for once, listened to Aizawa-sensei; Iida-san had rounded up the class, and even though Kirishima-san and Kaminari-san had wanted to play in the snow, they’d agreed to wait until they got back to the dorm—Momo heard them talking about getting ahead of Bakugō, who was waiting (impatiently) for Midoriya to gather up his books, so that they could nail him with snowballs.
It made her giggle—her classmates could be so lively, even though they’d had a long week of classes and studying and training. Momo, on the other hand, was looking forward to curling up in her queen-sized bed, with all her pillows and blankets, a nice cup of tea, and the Jane Austen book she’d been reading.
Even though she’d walked to school, even though she knew that it was cold, and even though she was wearing boots and a warm coat and a hat, she was unprepared for just how frigid the air felt, and just how much snow was falling.
Campus was quiet when Momo finally left; the majority of the students had already headed back to their own dorms, and Momo took a moment to breathe in the crisp, cold air, snow decorating her cheeks and her eyelashes, and pulled her hat down tighter over her air. Her hands immediately shivered, and Momo remembered that she didn’t have her gloves.
She hurried across campus as quickly as she could, heading in the direction of the dorm. She cursed herself for not asking Jiro to wait; her friend had offered, but Momo had wanted to do a few last-minute things to clean up the classroom before the weekend, and as a result, she was one of the last few to leave (along with Bakugō and Midoriya, who took a really long time collecting his materials, much to Bakugō’s chagrin). The cold was biting, and cut through her coat, all the way into her pockets, making her hands feel icy and stiff.
Momo huffed, making a puff of warm air against the snow, and pulled her hands out of her pockets. She held them up to her face, and huffed again, and rubbed them together, trying to get them warm enough to last until she got back to her room. But it was cold, and wet, and her hands instantly got covered in snow, which only made them colder.
She was going to have to hurry, but it was getting dark and the lamps lighting the way were dimmed by the snow. How much farther did she have to go, anyway?
“Yaoyorozu.” A husky male voice caused her to jump and spin around, her hands raised, ready to fight whoever was behind her. But when a shock of red and white hair shone in the lamp light, she let out a sigh of relief.
“Todoroki-san!” she exclaimed, lowering her hands to rub them together again. “I thought you’d gone home ages ago.”
“I did.” He took several steps closer to her. “When you didn’t return, Jiro and Ashido were concerned. I offered to come look for you.”
“Has it really been so long?” she asked, blinking away the snowflakes.
“It’s been over an hour since school let out,” he told her. “Even Bakugō and Midoriya are back.”
Momo blushed. How had she lost track of so much time?
“I’m—I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to make anyone worry.”
She thought that a soft smile crossed Todoroki-san’s handsome face. “Come on,” he said, holding out his hand to her, “let’s get you home safely.”
Momo took a few steps, reached out, and took Todoroki-san’s hand in her own. Immediately, she noticed it was warm, and she looked up at him, astonished. “Your hand,” she said, “it’s…”
Todoroki-san ducked his head a little, his red and white hair fluttering as he did so, the snowflakes clinging to the individual strands. They formed a crown, causing him to sparkle in the light. “I thought you might need a little warming up,” he admitted, and Momo could see that his cheeks were red, or was that from the wind and the cold?
“I—I—” She didn’t know what to say, so in the end, she simply settled on, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He tugged on her hand, and together, they set off in the snow, back towards the dorm.
They walked, in silence, hand-in-hand, Todoroki-san’s hand comfortable, the heat spreading pleasantly through Momo’s body. His touch was gentle, even though his fingers were calloused and rough. And it may have been cold, and snowy, and she may have forgotten her gloves, but still, Momo felt safe, and warm, and…
“Todoroki-san.” She said his name as they stomped their way through the snow. His eyes shifted to meet hers, even as he continued to face straight ahead. “You—why now?”
She had to know. Why he was holding her hand. Why he’d used his quirk to warm it—and her—up. She needed to know if this was just him being nice, or…
Or if it was more.
“Why now.” It was more of a statement than a question. “I—I’m not sure I understand, Yaoyorozu.”
“You—you’re holding my hand,” she said. “And you’re warming my hand.”
“I don’t have to,” he said: quickly, apologetically, his fingers trying to unlace from hers. “I can…”
“No!” Momo exclaimed, then dropped her head. “No…” Her voice was softer. “I—I like it. It’s—it’s what I’ve wanted.” She took a deep breath. A very deep breath. “For a long time, now, I’ve wanted this.”
Now it was Todoroki-san who was quiet. “Why didn’t you say so?” he said at last. “Monday. When you—why didn’t you just say that you wanted me to hold your hand?”
“I—thought I did?” Momo giggled; Midoriya, it seemed, was right about Todoroki-san. “You’re bad at reading people, Todoroki-san.”
“Shōto,” he said, stopping there, in the snow, catching her other hand and turning her so that they faced each other.
“Shō…Shōto,” she said, and the smile that erupted on his face was so bright, and so beautiful, that Momo nearly wept from the joy, from the brilliance, that was Todoroki Shōto, asking her to call him by his first name.
“Yes?” He had stepped closer to her; when did he get so close?
Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss…
“I guess… we better get back, huh?” she said shyly.
“In a minute.” His voice had dropped; it was strangely thick. His hands tugged her closer; his mismatched eyes were equally bright, and his face was flushed. She saw his eyes drop to her lips; she bit the bottom one, by instinct, and she heard him let out a soft groan as his forehead dropped against hers.
“Yaoyorozu,” he breathed, “I would like to kiss you, if you…”
“Yes,” she whispered, her mind officially going blank, “please.”
He didn’t give her a moment to respond, or say more, or change her mind. She had tilted her head; she was going to say more; but he was already crossing the distance, capturing her lips with his.
Todoroki Shōto kissed like he fought: confident, fierce, with abandon. He poured all that he had into the force of his lips on hers, and she nearly melted right there, in the freezing snow, from the heat of their bodies, so close together: from the heat of his mouth, on hers; from the heat of his lips, against hers.
It was everything that Momo had imagined, for so long, and when he broke the kiss, she found herself going back for a second, and then a third. She felt Shōto chuckle against her lips, and she knew that she would refrain, be a lady, and not act so greedy, but it had been three years and she needed this and she had thought that she would never get it, dammit!
Finally, Shōto was the one who pulled away, his eyes shining, his lips wet and swollen and wonderful. “Let’s get you home, Yaoyorozu,” he said. “If I don’t, Jiro said she’ll stick her earphone jacks in places I could only imagine.” He paused. “I wonder where she could mean,” he added. “I mean, after all, there are only so many…”
“Yes!” Momo said. “Let’s go!” She squeezed Shōto’s hand, and now, it was she who pulled him along; it was she who had suddenly found her voice, talking and laughing and asking how badly Bakugō had beaten Kirishima and Kaminari when they hit him with snowballs (“He didn’t really care until one hit Midoriya,” Shōto told her, “and then he really went crazy. Midoriya had to hold him back, but I think he kind of enjoyed watching Bakugō go bananas. He threw both Kirishima and Kaminari face-first into a snowbank and left them there.”). There was an ease to conversation with him; they had known each other for so long; they had worked together for so long; and now, maybe there was something more between them, something that Momo had dreamed of for so long…
Something that now she was hesitant to let go.
The lights from the dorm shone down on the pathway, casting a warm glow over the snow, which was finally beginning to slow. “We’re here,” Shōto said, and Momo felt a sudden shear of desperation clutch at her heart. This could be the last time they were truly alone for a while, and she wasn’t ready to let it go.
Not just yet.
“Yaoyorozu?” he asked, his gray and blue eyes shining. “What are you—”
He never got to finish the sentence, though, because Momo had thrown her arms around his neck and kissed him: hard, recklessly, carelessly. She felt him stiffen for a moment; then, he relaxed and leaned into the kiss, his hands circling her waist and pulling her in close.
All her life, she’d been a good girl. She’d followed the rules, and she’d tried to do right by everyone. She’d tried to be the best; she’d tried to be a good daughter, a good student, a good friend.
There had never been time for fun, for mistakes, for giving in to the moment and allowing passion to take over.
Momo wanted that once, here, and now, with Shōto.
And from the way he kissed her, it felt like he wanted that, too.
“Why did you stop?” he asked when she finally broke away. “I thought you were cold.”
“I am,” she said, her teeth chattering. “But I couldn’t…I didn’t want to…”
“Yaoyorozu,” he said, his face melting into something soft, and fond. “What makes you think this is it?”
She didn’t…she couldn’t. “It was cold,” she pointed out. “You held my hand.”
“And what makes you think I didn’t want to hold your hand?” he asked.
“This is the first day you’ve acted like it,” she huffed.
Shōto’s gentle laugh was nearly more than she could take. “I knew why you wanted to hold my hand,” he said gently. “When you asked? I knew why you asked.”
Momo’s jaw dropped. “If—if you knew,” she whispered, “then why…”
His hand cradled her face, again with such tenderness Momo wanted to swoon. “I had to be sure,” he said, “that what I wanted, was also what you wanted.”
“And what is it you want?” The words left her mouth before she could think.
“You.”
And, there it was.
You.
Simple. Perfect.
So him.
“I—I want you, too.” Again, words without thought, but this time, Momo didn’t feel so embarrassed, or so surprised, by the emotions behind the force of her words.
“Then it’s settled.” He took her hand again, and led her towards the dorm, and even though he hadn’t said the words, somehow, Momo just knew.
This was the moment that it all changed. The moment that they went from being two people, living their lives, adjacent yet separate, to two people, living their lives, no longer separate, but instead…
“Together.” Momo said the word aloud, causing Shoto to look down at her as they climbed the steps to the dorm.
“Ah,” he nodded, “yes, if you like.”
She nodded, too. “Yes,” she breathed, “yes, I…I would like.”
His eyes were luminous and his hand covered hers as they went to open the door. It was warm, and gentle, and caused a flush to spread through Momo’s body.
A hand to help her. A hand to join her.
A hand to keep her warm.
“Then,” he said, giving the door a push, “we go forward…
“Together, Momo.”
Momo smiled back—at him, at the light in his eyes, at his use of her first name—and helped him open the door.
“Yes,” she said, feeling the light and the heat and the love envelop her, “together.”