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Momo Yaoyorozu had attended enough formal events in her life to know the shape of a room before she truly entered it.
The balance of voices.
The spaces people naturally filled.
The places left conspicuously empty.
UA’s winter gathering wasn’t formal, not really. There were no seating plans, no speeches, no structured programme beyond hot food, warm drinks, and the quiet insistence that everyone take a night off. It was meant to be casual.
Relaxed. A celebration rather than an obligation.
And yet, the moment Momo stepped inside the common room, coat folded neatly over one arm, she felt it settle in her chest all the same.
Everyone had paired off.
Not dramatically. Not ostentatiously.
Just… naturally.
Kirishima and Bakugo stood near the window, close enough that their shoulders brushed whenever one of them shifted. Kirishima laughed at something Bakugo muttered, bright and unguarded, while Bakugo pretended not to be smiling at all.
Denki lounged across the back of a sofa, legs stretched out, Jirou sitting sideways beside him with her boots tucked under her. She elbowed him when he said something too loud; he grinned and leaned closer anyway.
Midoriya stood near the snack table with Hagakure, his head tilted slightly toward where her voice would be. He held a cup he wasn’t drinking from, entirely focused on her, as if the rest of the room had faded out.
None of it was excessive. None of it was uncomfortable to witness.
But it was everywhere.
Momo adjusted her grip on her coat and stepped further inside.
People greeted her, warmly, sincerely.
Mina waved her over with exaggerated enthusiasm before getting distracted halfway through the motion. Tsuyu offered a small nod and a quiet “Good evening.” Iida straightened reflexively when he saw her, greeting her with polite formality before relaxing again.
She smiled. She responded. She took a cup of tea when someone offered it.
She did everything right.
And still, there was a persistent, unspoken awareness that she didn’t quite fit into the shape the room had taken.
It wasn’t loneliness. That was the frustrating part. Momo was surrounded by friends, by people she trusted, people who respected her, people she cared deeply for.
But there was a particular kind of closeness she seemed to orbit without ever landing in.
She moved toward the edge of the room, finding a quieter spot near the doorway. Someone had hung mistletoe there, looped neatly above the frame, festive and unassuming. It swayed slightly whenever someone passed beneath it.
Momo noticed it distantly, the way one might notice a painting on the wall. She had no expectation of it meaning anything to her.
Why would she?
She folded her coat over the back of a chair and smoothed her skirt, posture perfect, shoulders straight. From the outside, she looked composed. Elegant. Entirely at ease.
Inside, she wondered, quietly, almost absently, when everyone else had figured this part out.
Ochako Uraraka had always been good at noticing when someone felt out of place.
It wasn’t a quirk thing. It wasn’t even something she consciously tried to do. It was just… instinctive. The same instinct that told her when someone was pushing themselves too hard, or laughing a little too loudly, or standing just a bit too still in a crowded room.
She spotted Momo almost immediately.
Not because Momo stood out, if anything, she blended in too well. She was exactly where she was “supposed” to be. Calm. Polite. Engaged in conversation when approached.
But Ochako noticed the way she kept drifting back toward the edges. The way her gaze lingered, not enviously, not resentfully, on the pairs scattered around the room.
Like she was watching something she hadn’t realised she wanted until it was already happening everywhere else.
Ochako took a sip of her drink and leaned against the counter, considering.
She knew Momo well. Knew how much responsibility she carried without ever voicing it. How easily people assumed she had everything sorted simply because she was capable.
It occurred to her, suddenly, that Momo might never have been given space to be uncertain about something as simple as wanting closeness.
That thought tugged at something warm in Ochako’s chest.
She excused herself from the conversation she was half-in and made her way across the room, weaving between classmates with easy familiarity. She didn’t announce herself. Didn’t make a big deal of it.
She just stopped beside Momo, close enough that their sleeves brushed.
“Momo,” she said softly.
Momo turned, surprised, then smiled. A genuine one, even if it was a little restrained.
“Ochako. Are you enjoying the evening?”
Ochako nodded. “Yeah. I am. It’s nice seeing everyone relax for once.”
Her eyes flicked briefly toward the mistletoe above them, then back to
Momo’s face. “You okay?”
The question was gentle. No pressure. No expectation of a particular answer.
Momo hesitated.
Just for a moment.
“I am,” she said, truthfully, and then,
after a breath, added, “I think.”
Ochako’s expression didn’t change, but something softened in her eyes.
They stood there together, neither rushing to fill the silence. Around them, laughter rose and fell. Music played quietly from somewhere near the back of the room.
A few classmates passed by, one of them snickering quietly when they noticed where the two of them were standing.
“Oh,” Mina stage-whispered, nudging Jirou as they walked past. “Look.”
Ochako felt heat creep up her cheeks and glanced upward at the same moment Momo did.
The mistletoe hung directly above them.
Momo froze.
Her first instinct was to step back. To apologise. To remove herself from the situation before it became awkward.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she stood very still, heart suddenly loud in her ears.
Ochako swallowed, nerves fluttering unexpectedly in her chest.
“Well,” she said lightly, trying to keep things easy. “Guess we wandered into that.”
Momo let out a quiet breath. “So it seems.”
They didn’t move.
Around them, the room seemed to hold its breath, not because anyone was watching closely, but because they were suddenly aware of each other in a way that hadn’t existed before.
Momo’s thoughts raced.
This was silly. It was just tradition. A piece of decoration. There was no obligation here, no expectation.
And yet, standing this close to Ochako, she became acutely aware of how warm her presence felt. How steady. How… safe.
She realised, with a start, that she wanted to stay.
Ochako shifted her weight slightly, hands tucked into the sleeves of her sweater. She looked at Momo, not as a leader, not as a strategist, not as someone impressive or untouchable.
Just as Momo.
“If you don’t want to,” Ochako began, quick to reassure, “we can totally just-”
“I do,” Momo said.
The word escaped before she had time to overthink it.
Ochako blinked. “You… do?”
Momo nodded, pulse steadying rather than spiralling. “Yes. I do.”
There was no grand declaration. No sudden rush.
Just the simple decision to lean forward.
Ochako met her halfway.
The kiss was soft, brief, careful, more a promise than a conclusion. A moment shared rather than taken.
When they parted, neither of them moved away.
Momo felt something settle in her chest that she hadn’t realised was restless.
Around them, reactions filtered in gradually.
Mina gasped loudly enough to be heard from across the room. “I knew it!”
Jirou smirked, elbowing Denki. “Told you.”
Midoriya looked startled, then smiled, the expression warm and unguarded.
Bakugo, passing by with Kirishima, paused just long enough to register what he was seeing, then snorted and kept walking without a word.
Momo barely noticed any of it.
She was too aware of Ochako’s hand still resting lightly at her elbow. Of the way her own shoulders had finally, instinctively, relaxed.
Ochako laughed softly, the sound close and real. “Guess that answers some questions.”
Momo allowed herself a small,
breathless smile. “It does.”
They stepped away from the doorway together, not separating, just shifting.
Falling naturally into place side by side rather than drifting apart.
As the evening continued, Momo noticed something else.
The room didn’t feel so segmented anymore.
She didn’t feel like she was observing from the outside.
She felt… included. Chosen.
Later, as the gathering began to wind down and people trickled off toward the dorms in small groups, Ochako walked beside her in companionable silence.
The night air was cold, crisp against their cheeks. Snow crunched faintly beneath their shoes.
“Hey,” Ochako said eventually, glancing over. “We don’t have to figure anything out tonight.”
Momo nodded. “I know.”
After a pause, she added, “But I would like to… continue this. At our own pace.”
Ochako smiled, bright and sincere. “I’d really like that too.”
They stopped briefly at the entrance to the dorms, neither quite ready to say goodnight yet.
Momo looked around once more, at the lights glowing warmly through the windows, at the quiet paths between buildings, at the place she had come to call home.
For the first time that evening, she felt fully present in it.
Ochako reached for her hand, tentative but hopeful.
Momo took it without hesitation. And together, they went inside.