Chapter Text
Momo has a slight problem in one of her classes.
But she’s a straight A student. Goes to all her professors’ office hours. Peer tutors after class. Does all the homework early plus any extra credit. She’s good at playing the game to look perfect on paper.
Having an issue in a class is a foreign concept at this point.
And yet.
As a chemistry and neuroscience double major, the vast majority of her classes are some type of science or math. She tested out of the basic literature and language classes during entrance exams last year, so the next stage of her education will be solely dedicated to all things STEM, and she could not be more excited. That is, with a single exception, as it’s part of the university’s core curriculum to take one fine arts or humanities class (and no, Ms. Yaoyorozu, the classes you tested out of don’t count).
That’s all fine and good, as Momo is an avid appreciator of the arts. Sure, it was a challenge to fit it into her course schedule this semester, but she found a way to include an intro level music appreciation class that would fulfill the requirement.
Here’s where the slight problem comes in.
While Momo has no issue with the coursework, she is experiencing some difficulties paying attention during their lectures three times a week
All because of a certain purple-haired girl that sits across from her has the nerve to be pretty and well-spoken and look really, really, good in platform boots. And Momo is really, really, gay.
Kyouka Jirou comes into every class sporting chunky headphones and a different classic rock tee. She drops some niche music knowledge that only the professor knows, and then she leaves like she hasn’t rocked Momo’s world in a mere fifty-minute class period.
Other than her energy drink of choice (ultra-red monster), Momo knows nothing else about her. She only knows her name from when the professor took attendance at the beginning of the semester.
Momo mentally prepared herself for another day of trying not to get caught staring when she nearly runs into the object of her affections.
Baffled, she takes a step away.
Momo always beats Kyouka Jirou to class. Always. And Jirou sits closer to the door than her, so she always beats her out– unless she hangs back to speak to the professor about the day’s topic in more depth.
“Ah– excuse me.” Momo says, doing her best to stay cool while being closer to her crush than ever before.
Jirou startled a bit when she noticed Momo, bringing a hand up to her headphones, briefly adjusting them before she wordlessly smiles and motions Momo though the door first.
Momo nods in response and walks to her seat, knowing Jirou couldn’t hear her polite response to their near collision in the doorway. She tries not to be disappointed that she wasn’t able to talk to her, until remembering that she’d have no idea what to say.
Their university doesn’t have an extensive fine arts or music program, so the music appreciation classroom is just a regular room in the humanities building. And since discussion classes are common, the seats are in a horseshoe formation instead of the rows that Momo is used to in all her other classes. While this wouldn’t matter to most people, the setup gives Momo a perfect view of the other girl.
With a few minutes before the start of class, Momo pulls out her phone to send her roommate a text detailing her misfortune.
<< I talked to her today.
>>ASDFGHKJLGHJ MOMO WHAT
<< Unfortunately, she was wearing headphones and didn’t hear me.
>> bestie y would u get my hopes up like that
<< So I don’t suffer alone :)
>> MOMO WHAT THE FUCK
<< Goodbye <3
Momo considers herself to be a good and kind person, but she can’t resist tormenting Ochako with her nonexistent love life every once in a while.
Slipping her phone back in her bag, Momo returns her attention to their professor. Mr. Yamada likes to pace around the horseshoe while he lectures, but today he was shuffling papers around at the podium at the front of the room.
“Alrighty listeners. Today we’re going to get into some early R&B like I promised last week, but I want to introduce your midterm project first, okay?” He steps away from the podium now, passing out the papers to the class.
“And as much as I would love to just listen to music with you folks all semester, I am obligated to give you something that I can grade that’s not only based on participation. University policy and all that.” He waved a hand dismissively.
Yamada is not a very… traditional professor. He likes to wear dark wash jeans, he plays uncensored versions of the songs in class, and Momo heard that he regularly antagonizes one of the exercise science professors. There’s speculation that the two are soulmates, but she hasn’t seen a soulmark on Yamada– and he seems like the type to boast about his partner– so Momo doesn’t really believe that.
She had thought there was a mistake in the syllabus when she found only a few formal assignments, but it had been correct. Most of their grade would come from discussion and journaling about the music he presented to them. Other than that, there was the one midterm project and the final project.
“It’s pretty self-explanatory, and I know you guys can read, so I’m not going to insult your intelligence by going over the entire rubric in class. However, since I am aiming to challenge your music literacy and expose you to different viewpoints and opinions, I have assigned partners for this project.”
Whispers of discontent rippled through the class. While Momo didn’t choose this class for social reasons, she knew it was a popular elective among friend groups.
“I know, I know, it’s uncool for all you socialites.” Yamada said overdramatically. “But I also know from our class discussions that a lot of you share the same tastes and opinions as your buddies, okay? And that does not promote the growth that I want you all to experience!”
Hope bubbled in Momo’s mind.
Maybe he’ll pair me with Jirou, since we have different styles.
That hope was snuffed as Yamada went on to explain he partnered the class alphabetically, reading down the roster before getting on with class. Much to Momo’s disappointment, she was not assigned to work with Jirou, or any acquaintances she had in the class. Her partner was someone named Hayate Yajima, who she hadn’t even heard of.
Regardless of her infatuation with Kyouka Jirou, Momo is still a stellar student. She’d simultaneously ace this project and continue to pine from afar. Easy.
-
Okay, maybe not so easy.
Momo’s regard for Jirou was intact, thankfully. The other girl continues to leave Momo awestruck while doing to bare minimum.
The not so easy was her project partner. Momo was raised to see the good in everyone, but even she has to admit that Yajima was… unpleasant.
He refused to cooperate with Momo about their project topic, insisting his ideas were superior. When Momo kindly reminded him of their professor’s intentions with this project, he shut her down without letting her finish.
And that was only the academic portion of the problem.
Yajima was under the impression that a music appreciation project with an assigned partner was the correct time to shamelessly flirt.
He made small advances to start with, like complementing Momo’s appearance, or trying to casually touch her during the class time Yamada gave them to work.
Momo wasn’t born yesterday. She’s dealt with creepy men more times than she can remember, and expertly deflected Yajima’s attempts.
Unfortunately, he’s escalating.
Yajima has started asking to meet up outside of class, despite having more than enough in-class work time to do their project. Momo has refused to give him her phone number under the guise of always having bad service, only communicating through their university-assigned email accounts when absolutely necessary.
“You should request a partner change, babes.” Ochako said from the kitchen. “Before he tries to follow you home or some shit.”
“It feels too late for that. And it’s not a huge class– everyone would know that I had a problem with him or something. And we’re not even halfway through the semester.” Momo complained from where she was starfishing on the living room floor.
Ochako’s head popped out from around the corner to glare suspiciously.
“Since when do you give a fuck about that.”
“I’m sorry?”
Ochako stepped into the room and peered down at her roommate.
“This dude is a fucking freak, and it might mess up your grade. Why are worried about what your class would think? These people aren’t even in your major. You’ll never see them again.”
Momo opened her mouth to retort, but couldn’t, suddenly embarrassed of her answer.
A look of realization dawned on Ochako’s face. “Because of your emo princess? Are you serious right now?”
“Don’t call her that! She has a name!” Momo groaned, hiding her face in her hands.
“I will call her by her God-given name when you actually interact with her. You come home all the time and tell me about how cool and cultured she is, but you won’t even talk to her!” Ochako snatched a pillow from their couch and chucked it at her head. “You won’t talk to her but you’re so worried about what she’ll think if you ask for a different partner? You’re supposed to be smart, Momo. Make it make sense.”
Momo sat up, weakly tossing the pillow at Ochako’s feet in subpar retaliation.
“I know it’s stupid, okay? Stop yelling at me.”
Something about her tone must have looked extra pathetic, as Ochako sighed and dropped into a crouch to be at her level, any previous aggression evaporated.
“I didn’t mean to yell, I’m sorry. But you know how some men are. This Yajima guy sounds like trouble. And what, don’t you have three more weeks with the project? That’s a long time.” She said. Her voice wasn’t loud anymore, but held noticeable stress. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“I know. If it gets any worse, I’ll talk to Yamada after class, okay? Promise.”
Ochako visibly brightened at the concession, holding up a pinkie to link with Momo and seal the promise. “Alright. We love a rational plan.”
“Yes, we do.” Momo said with a giggle. “I have to get to campus now.”
“Tell emo princess I said hi~” Ochako called as she retreated to the kitchen.
“I will do no such thing.”
-
It would seem that luck is on her side today, after her scolding-turned-pep talk with Ochako. They didn’t work on their projects today, so Momo’s hour was blissfully spent listening to Destiny’s Child and sneaking glances at her muse.
Today she sported a Bad Religion tee and jeans with enough rips to scandalize Momo’s grandmother. And while you wouldn’t have guessed, she seemed very knowledgeable about the chord progressions in Say My Name.
What would it take for you to say my name? Momo thought, laughing to herself. Probably speaking to her like a real human person.
Class ended with Yamada’s usual spiel of “stop and smell the roses” and all that– on par for a music appreciation professor– before he dismisses them for the weekend. Packing her backpack, Momo planned to go to her favorite study spot for a bit before heading home, hoping to get some work done before she succumbs to a lazy weekend.
As she left the classroom, she noticed Jirou had stayed behind to speak to Yamada for bit longer– just as Momo predicted. After weeks of watching her from across the room, Momo could tell when the girl was holding back in discussion. Maybe her thoughts were too advanced to bring into general discussion, or she had a tangent she couldn’t let go of. Either way, Momo always notices the way her lips press into a flat line, or when her fingers drum against the table with a little more vigor.
It’s compelling, in a way. Momo wants to know what’s running through the other’s head, even though it’s probably out of her depth.
Lost in thoughts about the girl, Momo was startled back into the present when a heavy arm draped over her shoulders.
“Hey Yaoyorozu, what’s the rush for?” Yajima leered, invading her personal space.
Momo slipped out from under his arm, stepping back but only achieving a foot of distance between them before she felt her bag brush against the hallway wall.
“Ah, you know. Have to get some work done.” She said with a forced smile, hoping the monotony of schoolwork would deter whatever advances Yajima thought would work. Looking briefly over his shoulder, the rest of their classmates had already disappeared around the corner, and they were too far from their classroom to catch Yamada’s attention.
“C’mon sweetheart it’s a Friday.” He stepped closer again. “All that thinking is gonna mess with your pretty little head. Why don’t you hang with me tonight? I’ll show you a good time.”
Momo grit her teeth at his implications, skin crawling at the pet name.
“No thank you. I’ll be going now.” She tried again with a firmer tone, trying to step around him. Panic seized in her chest as his arm came up to block her way. Momo was tall, for a girl, but Yajima still had a few inches on her, and at least thirty pounds.
“Now, don’t be like that, babe. I’m a nice guy, you’re lucky that I’m into you.” He leaned down, just inches from her face. Momo froze up as she felt his hand grip over her hip painfully. The contact made her sick to her stomach.
“Take your hands off me.” She said, as authoritatively as she could manage.
“You’re a lot hotter when you’re not being a fucking bitch, did you know that?” Yajima seethed. “Now you should wise up and stop playing hard to get you little–“
“You should get lost, asshole.” A voice called from behind him. Momo couldn’t see over Yajima’s shoulder, but gods, she’d recognize it anywhere.
Yajima pulled back, sliding an arm over Momo’s shoulders again and holding her in place as he turned to look down at Kyouka Jirou.
Even in her platform boots, Jirou was dwarfed by Yajima. But the look on her usually calm features made Momo want to shrink into the wall behind her.
“Why don’t you mind your own business, huh?” Yajima spat with a sharp grin.
“She told you to stop fucking touching her. Or are you too stupid to comprehend basic sentences?”
Jirou’s provocation stunned Yajima long enough for Momo to slip out of his grasp and step to stand next to her.
Yajima’s face twisted into something unsightly, muttering under his breath and stepping toward Momo again. Momo stuttered back a step before Jirou reappeared in front of her, blocking Yajima from advancing.
“I’m not going to tell you again, fuckhead. Get lost.”
Momo couldn’t see her face this time, but the venom in her voice made her blood run cold.
Yajima hesitated for a second, as if he was genuinely weighing his options. If he was, he would come to realize how poorly he chose.
“Or what? You’re not shit you little goth dyke. Now get the fuck out my business.” He sneered, shoving Jirou sideways by her shoulders.
Momo was stunned by his hateful words and how carelessly he tossed aside the other girl. She was frozen as he approached her and made to grab for her arm– but he came up short.
Literally, short. In a flash, Yajima had sunk to the floor with a shout, hands grasping down at his left knee. Jirou stepped between them again, pulling back a fist and punching him across the face in one fluid motion.
Momo gasped at the flash of blood she saw at the contact, and the haphazard drips across the linoleum of the hallway floor.
It brought her back to her senses, as she grabbed at Jirou’s arm, catching her jacket sleeve and hand– still curled in a tight fist– and started pulling away towards the exit.
“Let’s get out of here,” Momo said, “please.”
Jirou resisted for a moment, as she leaned down and grabbed Yajima by the collar as he held his nose, interrupting his string of cursing. She muttered a few words that Momo couldn’t hear, before giving in to the insistent tugging and letting Momo guide her out of the building.
Once outside, Jirou slowed her to a stop.
“Hey, hey. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” She asked, looking over Momo with concern.
Momo gaped for a second. “Am I okay? Are you okay– you, that was,” she tried to slow her racing mind to little avail. “You saved me, I couldn’t– that was– Oh! Is your hand okay?” She finally asked, looking down to where she still gripped the girl’s fist in her own, startled at the amount of blood that covered it.
That can’t be right. There wasn’t this much blood, Momo tried to recall, unless she cut her hand somehow, but this isn’t–
“Holy shit” Jirou breathed, interrupting Momo’s frantic line of thinking.
Momo looked back up to meet Jirou’s gaze, but the other girl quickly looked away, a blush rising up her face, almost up to the metal bar pierced through her eyebrow.
Confused by Jirou’s shy reaction, Momo looked back down at their connected hands, thankfully with a bit more analysis and a little less panic this time.
The red staining over the back of Jirou’s hand and knuckles was not blood. The same shade covering Momo’s palm wasn’t blood either.
It was a soulmark.
Momo’s stomach jumped to her throat. The likelihood of Kyouka Jirou being her soulmate was statistically so low that she hadn’t even entertained the idea, for her own sake.
And yet here she stood, holding hands with the object of her affection– no, her soulmate– who she hadn’t had the courage to speak to until she swooped in like her own personal hero when she needed it most.
“Oh.” Was all she could squeak out, strained around the growing smile on her face.
-
Kyouka didn’t really think of romance or soulmates very often. She lived a fulfilling life with her schoolwork, hobbies, and friends. There was very little she lacked, when she stopped to think about everything she had.
But after seeing the way Momo Yaoyorozu smiled at her. Man, there was no looking back to a time before that.
After some very flustered formal introductions, Yaoyorozu– Momo, she insisted– invited her to her apartment for tea.
Kyouka didn’t really consider herself a casual tea drinker, but she’d probably agree to anything right now if it meant more time with this girl.
She had seen her in class on a regular basis, but Momo typically kept to herself, outside of politely voicing her opinions in discussions or asking clarifying questions about a vague syllabus. Kyouka was familiar with the type of student she was, and chose not to get in her way.
She’d also be lying if she didn’t say she was worried Momo would judge or dismiss her for her aesthetic choices. Momo embodied the “It Girl” look. Tall, beautiful, stylish, and always put together. If Kyouka was any more pessimistic she’d believe Momo was just another mean girl that Kyouka knew all too well.
That doesn’t really blend well with Kyouka’s variety of facial piercings and rotation of distressed tee-shirts.
But the universe proved her wrong as Momo fished her keys from her bag at her front door.
“My roommate should be home right now, if you’d like to meet her.” Momo said, letting them into a cozy, well-maintained apartment. “Please, make yourself at home.”
The smile she flashed at Kyouka was small and controlled. Kyouka had a feeling that they were at about the same level of freak out.
“Yeah of course.” Kyouka replied smoothly.
“Momo? I thought you were going to go to the library, babes.” A high-pitched voice called, probably from behind one of the closed doors Kyouka could see from her spot near the entryway.
“Ochako, we have company,” Momo said as she approached the closed door. “Come out and say hi.”
“Unless it’s your emo princess I don’t give a damn! I just painted my nails they’re still wet.”
Kyouka couldn’t see her soulmate’s face from where she stood, facing Ochako’s door, but the pink that crept up her ears gave away her reaction to her roommates’ teasing.
Emo… princess? Jirou thought for a moment. She took stock of her own appearance; Well, it couldn’t be anyone else? Right? Unless she has a type.
But Momo hadn’t called ahead to tell Ochako that they had their first contact, so how would she have known about Kyouka? Unless they had talked about her before?
“Ochako!” Momo said, with slightly more volume and a lot more shame.
“Yeah right. You’re too much of a coward.” Ochako laughed. When Momo didn’t respond, Ochako must have put the pieces together.
In an instant, the door flew open, revealing a girl their age wearing a pink tracksuit set and clipped back bangs. Her eyes shot to Kyouka, wide as she gave her a once over before jerking back to Momo.
“Are you kidding me? How did you? You said–?” Ochako’s frantic whisper went silent as she looked down. Kyouka couldn’t see, but she assumed Momo had presented her soulmark in lieu of explanation.
“Holy fuck.”
“I’m going to make some tea now.” Momo said, turning on a heel and making for their kitchen. She looked overwhelmed, so Kyouka decided not to follow for a moment. Give her a minute to recollect.
“Uh, hi.” Ochako said, approaching Kyouka like she’s a flighty animal. “I’m Ochako Uraraka. I live here. With Momo.”
“Kyouka Jirou. We have a class together. And now, you know.” She said, holding up and dropping her marked hand. “So that’s cool.”
“Yeah, that’s insane, congratulations.” She said, with a genuine smile. “How did you guys make contact?”
Kyouka hesitated, not having prepared a way to answer this question without oversharing Momo’s uncomfortable experience or painting herself as a violent stereotype.
“She saved me from Yajima” Momo said, appearing from the kitchen entryway. “He was harassing me, and she stepped in and got me out of that situation.”
Ochako’s jaw tightened at the mention of their classmate. This must have been an ongoing issue for Momo, and Kyouka kicks herself for not having noticed earlier in the semester.
It looked like the roommates were communicating through a few tense looks before Ochako shook her head, and turned back to Kyouka with a question.
“How did you do it? I’ve never seen him, but Momo always said he was hard to shake.”
Without thinking, Kyouka brought her hands together to rub over her knuckles. They were a little swollen from the punch, but she could hardly feel it over the thrumming excitement of her soulmark.
“I told him to back off, but he wouldn’t. Then he started to get physical, so I kicked out his knees and punched him.”
Kyouka had anticipated a wave of shame to come with the admission of her actions, but it never hit. In its place was a sense of calm accomplishment. Like she succeeded in protecting her soulmate, even though she acted without knowing that fact.
“That’s insane dude!” Ochako said, bringing Kyouka back into the moment. “Do you like, know martial arts or something?”
Kyouka blushed, sheepish. “Ah, no not really. I’ve taken some self-defense classes and stuff but nothing formal. But I’m pretty good under pressure so…” She trailed off.
“It’s a good thing she is,” Momo said to Ochako. “Because I totally froze up. I don’t know how I’d have gotten away otherwise.” She looked back to Kyouka. “Thank you, again.”
Kyouka huffed a laugh, trying to downplay the sincerity of the moment. “It’s nothing, really. I’m just glad I was able to help. Right place, right time, and all that.”
Momo smiled gently, allowing that line of conversation to fade. “The tea is almost ready. Do you like jasmine, Kyouka?”
She agreed easily, and stifled a laugh as Ochako poked at Momo with a stage-whisper of fist name basis? You’re a real lady killer now, huh?
-
Over tea, the girls discussed reporting Yajima to the university, and speaking to Yamada to ensure a partner change at the very least in the meantime, or if their school didn’t act appropriately.
Afterwards, Kyouka did her best to entertain Ochako’s many questions. Ochako seemed like a really nice girl, but she all but gave Kyouka the shovel talk right then and there.
Luckily for her, the roommate-turned-detective had to leave for some sort of club meeting that Kyouka couldn’t be bothered to remember. She was too busy with the fact that she’d be alone with Momo again.
“I’m sorry, I hope she didn’t press you too much,” Momo said, over their long-forgotten teacups. “She just cares a lot. And the whole issue with Yajima made her worry more than usual.”
Kyouka grimaced at the mention of the catalyst of their first contact. “No, I don’t blame her at all. I’d do the same thing.” She laughs, “I guess I just wasn’t expecting this to happen today, you know?”
Momo smiled and Kyouka suffered.
“I agree.” She hesitates. “I do have a confession for you, though.” She continued, focusing at where her hands rested lightly on the table.
Kyouka panicked internally, running through all the doubts she had accumulated so far. It felt like she was about to be let down easy. Maybe Momo was already in a relationship? Or straight? Or maybe she just didn’t want to love Kyouka like she wanted to love Momo.
For someone who rarely considered romance, Kyouka found herself distraught at the prospect of losing something she barely had.
“Uh, sure. Is everything okay?” Kyouka choked, having to manually control her breathing.
Momo’s shoulders droop as she sighs. Kyouka stiffens with grim anticipation at the sight.
“Yeah, I just– I’ve had a crush on you since the start of the semester.” Momo said, barely above a whisper.
Okay, curveball. Not breaking up. Would it count as breaking up if we just met? Irrelevant now, but is this a joke? Does she have the wrong person? I don’t know if–
Kyouka shook herself from her spiral when she saw how anxiously Momo stared, awaiting a response that she was too dumbfounded to give.
Then she was struck by a sudden connection.
“Is that what Ochako meant by emo princess?” Kyouka questioned.
Momo fidgeted with her hair, clearly embarrassed. “Yeah. I uh, would come home and talk about you sometimes.” Then she rushed to remedy, “only good things! Things I like about you or interesting things you’d say in class.”
The admission made Kyouka blush in return. “That’s really flattering, thank you. I wouldn’t have guessed that I’d be your type, though.” She said, an echo of her earlier doubts or preconceptions of her soulmate.
“Ah, well. I don’t really consider it a type thing. Just that it was you, I guess.” Momo said quietly, rubbing her fingertips over her marked palm. “Maybe that was for a reason.”
Kyouka wanted to touch the red over Momo’s hand. The proof that put them in this situation. In a stroke of boldness, she asked.
She reached her hand over the table, palm up. “Can I touch your–“ Kyouka started, only to be cut off by the insistent buzzing of her phone rattling the table.
Her outstretched hand curled into itself as she withdrew, looking at her caller ID.
Sero. He can wait, Kyouka thought as she reached to silence the call. But he hates talking on the phone, he wouldn’t call over nothing. She realized with new confliction.
“You can take that, if you need,” Momo said. “I don’t mind.”
Kyouka looked between her and her ringing phone. She sighs, shoulders sagging. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t, but my friend only calls when something is wrong.”
Momo smiles encouragingly, and Kyouka finally picks up.
“Dude where are you?” Sero immediately asked. “You’re going to miss Kiri’s match! We’ve been texting you for like twenty minutes.”
Kyouka inhaled sharply, “What?” she asked, pulling back to look at the time. 4:50 pm. The match starts at five.
“Shit, I didn’t realize it was so late, I was–“ She looks across to Momo, who is busying herself with the teapot, likely just to be polite. “Fuck. It’s a long story, I’ll explain when I get there. Is Kiri okay?”
Kirishima would never admit it, but he’s a tad superstitious. He plays better when their whole group comes to watch his rugby games, so they’ve made it a priority to go as much as possible.
“He’s fine, he hasn’t come by yet, but you know he always does before it starts. Are you on the way?” Sero asked, sounding uncharacteristically nervous. Kyouka can almost picture the way he’s twisting and pulling at his hair and earrings as they talk.
“Yeah, I’m on my way. If I’m not there when Kiri comes by call me again and I’ll tell him myself, okay?” Kyouka promises, hanging up after receiving an affirmative hum and a hurry up from Sero.
“I’m so sorry,” She says turning back to Momo. “I have to go, I promised my friend I’d be at his game and he’s superstitious so I can’t miss it–“ Kyouka rambles, pausing as Momo holds up a placating hand gesture.
“Relax, Kyouka, please. Go, it’s okay. We have all the time in the world.” She gently pulls Kyouka’s phone from her hand, tapping at the screen. “Here’s my number. Just text me when you can and we can schedule a date, or something.” A furious blush rises on her cheeks at the end of her statement, and it makes Kyouka’s stomach jump to her throat.
“Of course, that’s perfect.” Kyouka said, getting up and putting on her boots by the door. Straightening up, she flirts, “You’re so smart, Momo.”
In her platform boots, Kyouka measures up to about her nose.
Pressed for time, and running on renewed adrenaline, Kyouka took a half step forward to peck Momo’s cheek in goodbye.
“I’m happy I met you. I’ll text you in a bit, I promise!” She said as she rushed out the door.
In her haste, Kyouka missed the way Momo brushed over her cheek tenderly as she stared at her closed front door for a moment, before releasing a squeak and hiding her burning face in her hands.
-
“I’m here, I made it!” Kyouka panted as she barreled into her group of friends sitting in the bleachers.
“In the fucking nick of time, Jirou. Here he comes.” Kaminari joked lowly, nodding his head towards their red-haired friend, clad in a jersey with a matching bandana as he ran up to them.
They hyped their friend up, as they always do. Kirishima is a goddamn menace on the field, but his softer personality occasionally needs a boost. And they’ll always be there to provide that.
They wave and call a few more encouragements as he jogs back to his team, ready to play.
Kyouka slumps into the bleachers, finally taking a breath.
“Okay, now what could have been so important that you almost missed this?” Mina demanded with humor.
Kyouka huffs a laugh, unprepared to explain.
Wordlessly, she holds up the back of her hand, letting the scarlet brand do the explaining for her.
“Oh.” Mina squeaks.
Sero scrubs a hand over Kyouka’s hair, “Jirou you son of a gun!”
It took Kaminari a moment to catch up with the unspoken energy shift among his group of friends, but whined a “that’s no fair, I want to meet mine!” when he did.
They laughed lightheartedly but he continued the dramatics.
“I’m serious! What’s a hilarious, drop-dead gorgeous guy like me have to do to get a soulmate around here?”
“Punch out a bigot for her.” Kyouka deadpanned.
“Is that a fucking joke?”
“Nope.”