Ruby Red and Caramel
Chapter 7: Bacon and Eggs

The memories are hazy because it's been so long, but Momo remembers odd bits and pieces of that late afternoon: her lying down on her stomach over the plush carpet of her room, notebooks and reference sprawled around her, the perfect image of diligence. However, her eyes are focused on the television set and nothing else. It explains the sour look on Mother's face as she and a maid comes in with tea and crumpets.

"Momo, dear," her mother says in a tone that's as gentle and sharp as a scalpel through anaesthesised skin, "What is this shameless vulgar display they're broadcasting so early in the afternoon?"

She sits up straight and arranges herself in a more ladylike posture. "They're highlights from UA's Annual Sports Festival, already edited and screened by CNN Japan. It is not meant to be vulgar, Mother."

The reporter describes an unexpected student's explosive debut, figuratively and literally. She clearly remembers Mother's scowl, how she can almost taste the disgust in her own mouth. "You are right, Momo. Vulgar isn't the term. Barbaric is more apt. Watching this, I simply cannot understand your obsession with heroics. I am relieved I talked you out of enrolling for the heroes course, and UA."

Trying hard not to be too ashamed, Momo argues, weakly: "I… do not think it is barbaric, Mother. I think it's… fascinating." Another beat of silence, to regain her courage. "And I think I could have done as well as the other students. Do you know that this year, not one, not two, but three general studies students were able to-"

Mother's mouth twists bitterly. "Oh, really? So if your father and I had the poor judgment to allow you to accept UA's Hero Course Scholarship, do you think you would have stood in the same stage as either of those… those ruffians on the screen?"

She looks up. On the screen, a boy with an explosion quirk faces Endeavor's son at the final one-on-one battle. "I don't know mother, but I'm sure I would have done well enough to be in the one-on-one tournament..."

She laughs bitterly, making Momo wince. "Really." A look of disbelief. "I suppose the Todoroki boy is all right. If you want, Father and I can arrange for you two to meet under more… civilised circumstances."

She shakes her head immediately at that. She hasn't enjoyed any of the arrangements that her parents have made for her so far. Somehow she feels that if things were different, she and this Todoroki-san could be friends. But definitely not in that context.

Mother takes note of her disagreement and says nothing more about Todoroki. But as to the other UA student: "But can you imagine you and that vulgar blonde boy getting along? Would you be able to trust a person like that with your life? Hero or not?"

Momo shifts her gaze to the television-the boy screams bloody murder at Endeavor's son to use his fire, using the worst words in the Japanese vocabulary that she knows, and then some.

She keeps silent.

Mother takes this as her cue to reach for the remote and switch the TV off. The room is thrust into heavy silence, one Momo uses to stare down at her hands until her mother lifts her face in her hands.

"Listen, darling," she says with a cloying smile. "I understand you, I really do. This desire of yours to help others and to dedicate your life to a life of service is surely a reflection of a noble heart…"

She feels a smile growing on her lips.

"... and a naiveté that comes with these… temporary teenage whims." Mother slaps her cheeks lightly and lets her go, as if to sober her up. She spends a few moments in stunned silence, simmering in her disbelief.

"Mother, it's not just a phase. I truly want to help people," Momo reasons, knowing full well that her arguments are null and invalid, because she isn't in UA's uniform, she's in Shiketsu's, with a General Studies ID around her neck.

"You'll understand when you get older," is all Mother says, as she always has. "Leave heroism and altruism for people who can afford to throw their lives away. Momo… you are much too important for that. Much too intelligent, beautiful, valuable- "

The girl says nothing, allows her mother to ramble on about their perceived value, how Momo will go on to change the world and how it's other people who should serve, not the other way around. She reaches out for her tea and wills the words to go in one ear and out the other.

"... and truly, your father and I have big expectations for you," Mother finishes, looking right into her eyes. "If you were to inherit our corporation, Momo, and our ideals for a beautiful, industrial world, then in a way, you'd be helping more people than you can imagine."

She smiles politely and nods, because there's no other acceptable answer in this case.

Mother smiles at her good, obedient girl and nods. She places her science textbook on her daughter's lap and looks at her meaningfully and leaves. Things are as they should be.

Years later, All Might isn't getting any better, and villainy is at an all-time high. More and more people get hurt. Less and less highschoolers enroll for hero courses. And her parents get richer and richer and more and more unaffected. There's actual burning fervor in her chest, so strong it hurts.

You can't help what your heart wants.

She'll never be a pro-hero, but she'll still be someone who helps people. That's what she tells herself as she opens Shiketsu University's Website, looks through the accelerated Medicine courses, and fills out the application forms, behind Mother's back…

As life-changing as they are, Momo never expects to see those clips again for whatever reason, and especially not in these odd circumstances: exhausted and mildly confused on Shinsou Hitoshi's apartment floor. With Awase Yosetsu sprawled next to her, Midoriya Izuku calming himself down out on the balcony, and Monoma Neito eyeing everything with fox-like eyes, loaded with equal portions of interest and caution.

Shinsou is obviously the most reluctant one about the whole set-up, and not only because of Monoma's brief tantrum regarding their need to resolve other people's issues from more than a decade ago, on their rare date night of all nights. Still, the tired man tries his best for all of them. "You wanted to know how we knew each other. This is it."

The videos from Youtube are thirteen years old, each viewed more than five million times over that period. He showed them all he could about that sports festival-the first race, which Midoriya won without any use of quirks. The Cavalry battle, where they form the team with the highest valued bandanna-a young Kirishima Eijirou at the front, Midoriya and Shinsou at the back, and Katsuki above them, easily dodging and stealing all they could despite the hero course students going after them with all they've got. When they draw lots for the final tournament, how the quirkless Midoriya is forced to back out from the one-on-one battles. How easily it seems for Katsuki to overpower the rest of them, making it to the finals to fight to almost win against a young Todoroki Shouto, who refuses to use his fire for whatever reason, until the last moment…

That year is memorable. Three General Studies students beating the hero course students, getting their valuable spots in the tournaments to show off their skills to the whole world. Strangely none of them being transferred to the hero course, despite the clamor from the hero community. The noise and outrage that followed.

It was a big deal for the other General Studies students not only in UA, but also Shiketsu High. And maybe the other schools too. Momo remembers the twinge of hope in her heart, how close she felt to the brash boy on television who showed everyone that there are people who can be heroes outside of the hero courses. That if a wild one like that has come so close, there might be a chance for someone like her who has nothing to step on but her pedestal.

Would you be able to trust a person like that with your life? Hero or not? Mother's voice sounds from the back of her head, with the same bitterness.

"So… Bakugou was that GS kid who fought Todoroki," comments Yosetsu, barely able to hide the awe in his voice. "I remember that, too. A lot of us in our high school seriously thought of shifting into a hero course after that. 'Course, after we heard that none of you made it in the end, a lot of us gave up on that."

"Yup. Well, not like UA didn't try to get that bastard to the hero course after that. There were other reasons probably, but Bakugou himself didn't want to change courses." Shinsou sighs, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "You have no idea how much I wanted to kick his ass back then."

Monoma makes a sound of interest. "Now that's odd. So he acted like a rabid animal in the competition not because he wants to be a hero, but just because he wanted to show off." His thin mouth curls into a sardonic smile. "That's… not very heroic, you have to admit."

"You're wrong."

They all look up cautiously as Midoriya comes in from outside. The chill of the night air tickles Momo's skin as the glass door slides open and shut. When he comes closer, she sees pale, tired skin and slightly reddened eyes. His breath is shaky as he falls next to her-she feels the cold, lonesome and real, emerging around his aura.

Still, the weakened green-haired man looks at Monoma with determination in his eyes. "Kacchan didn't do all he did because he didn't want to be a hero… even though it's what he wanted from the start, it's because he knew he couldn't be, and-"

"Midoriya," Shinsou says, voice cutting through his ramble like a warning.

Midoriya inhales, closes his eyes for some semblance of control. "It's… okay, Shinsou-kun. I won't."

They stare at him carefully, as carefully as one stares at a pile of bricks on the verge of collapse. Momo reaches out, touches him on the shoulder, for whatever good it does. She meets green eyes.

"It's okay. I'm okay," he manages, after a worrisome beat of silence. "I owe you guys a lot of apologies and explanations huh? I'm sorry," he says bashfully, giving an awkward laugh that's meant to reassure them, but obviously does the opposite for his cautious audience.

"You sure, dude?" Yosetsu says carefully. "I mean we're here 'cause we're worried about you and we can listen if you want to talk, but you really don't owe us anything, y'know?"

Yes, because the story between him and Katsuki doesn't seem like a short one, or a simple one. Even if he doesn't say a word, Momo has a good guess of the turmoil in the pit of his stomach, based on the anxious glimmer of his eyes-the pain, the fear. The guilt. She doesn't know why there would be guilt there, but she's sure it's there like a rusty bullet wedged in his heart for the past decade.

"Thank you, Awase-kun," Midoriya says with a sniffle. He shifts his gaze at Momo then, opens his mouth slowly and hesitantly before he speaks. "You and Kacchan… I mean, I'm sorry if I'm wrong, but I just had that feeling earlier…"

The only one who dares to do anything else but to remain in awkward silence is Monoma, who appears both carefully cunning and disinterested when he breaks it after a moment. "Better not go there, Midoriya-kun. One awful sob story at a time."

That earns him a glare from Yosetsu. Momo isn't offended, though, because he's right.

Midoriya makes a sound of understanding, and doesn't ask any further questions. Instead, he tells her, "I feel like… there's lots of things you don't understand about Kacchan. And maybe among all of us here, you're the one who needs to know about what happened to him the most. And that's why..."

Another beat of silence. Midoriya inhales again, and it still comes out as a shaky breath.

"... that's why, I should apologize." Out of nowhere, he bows his head low, much to everyone's surprise.

"Why?" Momo asks, after a stunned silence. Her hand reaches out to touch him again in a show of reassurance.

"Because… it hurts too much." He doesn't immediately look up, making her wonder if he bowed his head to avoid meeting her eyes any more. When he does, he's struggling to keep his eyes dry again, so much so that Monoma stands up and leaves, presumably to find tissues. "I thought about it a lot, and… I'm not ready to tell you guys what happened. I thought I would be by this time-it's stupid, isn't it, it's been fourteen years, but I'm scared… scared that you guys will hate me, and-"

"Midoriya," Shinsou repeats quietly, more gently this time. "It's okay. Don't force it."

"Yeah. If you're not ready, you're not ready." Yosetsu says, although it's obvious that he's a little down for not being able to learn anything new.

He wipes his eyes against the back of his hand and looks meaningfully at Momo. "I'm… really sorry, Yaoyorozu-san."

Something at the back of Momo's mind itches and spasms and bleeds as she wonders what could have happened to those two, for this amount of guilt and pain from memories that should be gathering dust to still hang over their heads and not heal properly for the past fourteen years. Still, she understands as much. It may be a story she needs to hear, but it isn't Midoriya's story to tell.

She nods at him quietly and stands up, much to the surprise of everyone else in the room. "It's all right, Midoriya-san. After all, Awase-san is correct. You don't owe us anything."

Yosetsu scrambles to his feet, intending to follow her out of the apartment, but she holds a hand up, stopping him in his tracks.

Everyone else looks at her face in awe, surprised maybe at how different it may have appeared then. She doesn't know. She doesn't feel that different. Just… oddly empty, maybe, because despite seeing all those videos of their childhood and listening to Shinsou's drawl and Midoriya's apologies, at the end of the day… she still doesn't know Katsuki.

Not in the way that she needs to, at least. And the answers will never be found here.

She thanks everyone with a deep bow, and leaves Shinsou's small apartment. The only sound she hears as she leaves is a confused inhale, and the curious mewl of the old tabby cat who has been lounging about the entryway.

Later, she finds herself staring at the ceiling of her condominium unit. But instead of the unbearable jumble of irrational thoughts that plagued her for the days past, she returns to the most rational ones of them, and attempts to form a solid, concrete answer:

What can she do for Bakugou Katsuki?

The days go on as they ought to, divided into neat eight-hour segments when he needs to drink his meds. Irritatingly quiet on the outside, a chaotic mess inside.

He still isn't sleeping well. Those anger issues aren't going anywhere, and are louder when he's by himself and more fucked up than usual. If he allowed himself to drink or to fuck himself up further with drugs, he supposes that he'd always be on the verge of shutting down his brain and the rest of his body. Still, he doesn't have enough of a will to do even that, and instead struggles with himself and his endless cycle of self-blame until it's 5 AM and it's time to run again.

Another morning, not that different from any other morning. Nothing but empty streets and diminishing darkness and cold air for company. Until, of course, the sun rises, and they inevitably run into each other again.

It's not everyday that it happens, but when it does, he finds himself crossing paths with Yaoyorozu Momo. And the past few mornings, she regards him coldly, dark eyes sharp and focused. As she ought to, he supposes. If he were in her shoes, apart from giving in to the urge of kicking his ass, he won't even give a fuck.

But she does anyway-give a fuck, that is-and it's baffling. Whether she's alone, or with someone else, like that skull guy, that chick with big hands. That shitty glasses guy who went to UA too, back in the day. That fucker with the headband, and he swears he could have beaten his head in if he didn't have to act so fuckin' apathetic. (Good thing it was just that one fuckin' time, because that guy seems to be holding himself back too).

She'd say "good morning," and he'd grumble it back. They'd run for a few quiet meters in awkward silence, and without missing a beat, she'd declare with that uncharacteristic strong voice of hers:

"Let's race, Bakugou-san."

He doesn't know why he lets her goad him into it. Maybe it's as simple as him feeling bored, or maybe because having something else to focus on other than his self-hate actually might be doing him good. Still, he hates that it's as simple as insinuating that he's too afraid to lose, for her (or anyone else, for that matter), to get him to indulge her and her weird-ass whims.

The race tracks are different each time-sometimes it's around the quiet, sleeping neighborhood, or the almost empty park, or the empty shopping mall parking lots. The conditions are always the same, though: whoever loses has to do whatever the winner wants.

And it's fucking stupid as shit because by all accounts, Katsuki should win, dammit. He's stronger and faster and angrier than anyone else no matter how early in the day it is, meaning he deserves the shallow victories, as meaningless as they may be. After his first loss that fateful morning, he figured that there's no way he'd lose this time because he knows how to use his quirk to fly from point A to point B.

But to his surprise, Momo has learned to play dirty . There could be a sidestreet or some shortcut that Katsuki didn't know about, so that she'd be at the finish line with a smug smile on her face as he explodes and curses his way to her. There could be officers nearby who'd catch anyone using their quirks. (Momo's is subtle, and Katsuki's and the other extras' is not, and it's obvious that they'd arrest an exploding man first before they do a girl on a hoverboard.) One time, she made and threw weights- fuckin' 10 kg weights!- at him and Glasses, who both catch them with surprised yelps and just barely manage not fuckin' die from almost being hit on the head.

Needless to say, despite all the protests of her 'unsportsmanlike-conduct', as Glasses so often berates her, Yaoyorozu Momo is the undisputed, slightly thinner victor for the past consecutive mornings. And because of that, she'd always have free breakfast care of her bitchass friends if they're there, and she'd corner him, staring him down with those searing hot sharp raven eyes of hers.

Everytime she asks, she pauses and takes a deep breath and he feels like dying a little.

"Where did you grow up?"

"What did you take for pre-med? Which university?"

"What are your parents' names? Do you have any brothers and sisters?"

"Where did you learn how to cook?"

Katsuki, predictably sore from all the losing he does (because honestly, each time he does she's the one who looks like she's about to die from exhaustion, so how the fuck does she keep winning?!), gives her clipped answers through grit teeth: Shizuoka. Biology. UA Medical University. The old hag is Mitsuki, and the old man's Masaru. I'm a fuckin' only child, do I look like I could be anythin' else.

I just learned, it's not that hard.

She nods each time, with a cold and clinical gaze in those raven eyes like she's interviewing a patient before she puts them to sleep and cuts them open. Difference being, she gives clipped answers of her own, as if he asks her the same inane questions too: I grew up in Nagoya. I took an accelerated course in medicine in Shiketsu University. My parents are named Ichiro and Sara. I don't have any siblings either.

And yes, cooking is hard. I can't cook anything.

Katsuki smirks at that, but keeps his rude comments to himself. They aren't that rude, but they aren't close enough that he can poke fun at her anymore. Even though they're playing this stupid twenty questions shit at the risk of Momo's life.

Instead, he says, "You can learn a lot just from watching other people fuck around. That's what I did. My old man may be lame, but he knows his shit when it comes to the kitchen."

Not exactly the most earth-shattering of discoveries about him, but it makes Momo widen her eyes and step back a little. "Oh. So you learned from Masaru-san," she says, after a stunned silence.

Ah. He didn't need to say that, did he? He… didn't want to just volunteer free info about him, not now that Momo wants to work her ass to the bone for each tidbit and at this point he just wants to see how far she's willing to go.

He plays it off like it's nothing, though, and shrugs. "Yeah, what about it?"

A small, pretty smile on her lips, as she says: "You two must be close."

His mouth goes tch as she continues to look amused. He looks away, controls the twitch of his stupid hands wanting more. So it is possible to miss someone, even though they're standing next to you.

Stupid as fuck. He pushes those sappy thoughts to the back of his mind. As always, she takes the next moment of silence to take her leave politely, with nothing but a wave of her hand and the swish of her ponytail that he watches until it disappears in the distance.

After every encounter, he gives in to an aggravated sigh, wonders why he bothers, and why the weight feels less… heavy, each time. He then goes home as the sun rises behind him.

In the relative, but annoying-as-fuck quiet that comes after each encounter, Katsuki finds himself thinking of Momo even more than before, and under an entirely different light. Never mind that he was already thinking of her more than what he thought was humanly possible, everyday, since the day he caught her gaping at him like a fish outside of his cafe.

Besides her raven eyes and pale skin glowing with the early morning sun, her words and glare and that challenging upturn of her mouth, one that he's never seen before, pushes into his thoughts without his consent. He's going insane figuring out what the hell she's thinking. She really isn't allowed to smile like that in front of him again, but she does almost every fuckin morning. He can't say that he's sick of it, but it can't be that healthy if his mind keeps attempting to whir itself out of his head every time.

Despite the intrusive thoughts, Katsuki slogs through the days, goes through the same angry motions-goes to the cafe, opens it up. Says his daily expletives to Ears, and then Pikachu when the blonde arrives five minutes late than he should have. Fills out order forms and does accounting shit and makes coffee and pasta and tries not to glare too much at all the dead-inside customers coming and going, gaping at the displays in interest. He is surprised that he's able to do it at all, given how intrusive his thoughts have been.

"Baku-boss. Something happen?" asks Jirou after the fourth or fifth encounter. Discerning triangle eyes are on him as she makes a cappuccino with practiced hands, barely needing to look at what she's doing.

He doesn't answer, just glares at her like her nosy ass deserves.

Jirou gives him a look that's disinterested enough to reassure him that yes, she understands that it's none of her business. But the way those ear-jack things are floating in the air tells him otherwise. "Just wondering. You're a lot less angry today. But kinda fucked-up in a different way. Kinda hard to explain."

It's not that fuckin' hard to explain. He's always fuckin' angry and always kinda fucked-up. Just ask his so-called friends, except that shitty fuckin' ass Deku-no scratch that, that stupid green perm-head isn't a friend anymore, if Katsuki, even in his years of tolerating him through high school and college and med school and residency, ever considered him as one. (And that's a big if.)

Being distracted by a certain neurosurgeon's stupid stunts is entirely different. But Fuckin' Ears doesn't need to know that. He goes about arranging the pastries on display as angrily as he can, gives her a glare only threatening enough to stop any other stupid insinuations from forming in her mouth.

That forced, bored look on her face not leaving, she goes back to work. Katsuki doesn't miss the little knowing smirk ghosting over her mouth though. Like she's reading his mind and sees nothing but raven hair and that goddamned smirk and the gajillion anger management issues shoved to the sidelines, suddenly and jarringly muted.

If she did, she doesn't say anything about it. "Meds," is the only thing she says to him on that shift, dumping a tablet into his palm, matching his glare with one of her own. God, she and everyone else are too much like the fuckin' old hag when it comes to his medicines. Fuckin' annoying.

He growls, but obliges more easily than he has the past few days. Jirou is mildly surprised, but takes this development with a small, relieved raise of the eyebrows.

The days go on.

It's a quiet and early Sunday morning when Momo blearily opens her eyes and sees the light shimmering through the trees above her, and feels grass and soil under her fingernails and her bareback. Her head throbs. Her arm is just strong enough to reach out to hold on to it.

"The fuck, Momo. You wanna die, or something?"

The familiar gruff comes from a warm source next to her. She turns her head slowly and looks up to meet burning red eyes, quietly waiting for her to come to.

When she speaks, her voice is wobbly and she knows she's pushed herself to the limits of a quirk that she doesn't challenge enough. "What happened?"

"You fuckin' passed out, is what. After tryin' to make a fuckin' mountain bike out of your skinny ass. Jesus, and I thought I was reckless."

He's leaning against the tree, one arm resting on a flexed knee, bare skin steaming under the shade. His body radiates warmth and sweetness and musk-a sudden but not unwelcome assault on Momo's just-awakening senses, one that makes her struggle with her memories of a few moments ago.

"Did I win?"

He snorts. "'Course not. If you think you can, with that piece of shit you made over there, I'd like to see you try."

He gestures to the monstrosity, which is only half a mountain bike. The handlebars and the front wheel came out fine, but the rest of it is soft and rapidly dissipating, made of raw fat dripping on the pavement. Momo winces.

"All right," she concedes, rolling over to her side to try to face him. She can't lift her head, though, and when she speaks it's facing the soft grass. "You win this time."

"This fuckin' chick almost dies and talks as if she just let me win. The hell." He scowls, but a wheezy chuckle escapes from him. "You really are somethin' else, Momo."

"Mm." The sunlight hits her eyes. She shifts her head into the shade, closer to his side, tries to form a coherent or rational thought. She blankly thinks of why she did this, why she thought it was a good idea to challenge him over and over, just for the crumbs of his true identity to be given to her out of his own accord. How she came to the conclusion that all Katsuki will respond to is a good fight. The lengths she has to go through, to prove that she's strong and he's strong and that she wants to know him beyond his wounds and weaknesses and how she wants him to know her beyond the pathetic side she's shown so far.

She can't, though. Not when again, she's shown her pathetic side to him. Still, she's too weak to feel ashamed. All she wants now is to sleep next to his warmth. She's dizzy. It's been so long since she had a warm morning like this...

She hears him sigh above her head. One of those searing hot hands make its way to her cheek, slapping it awake. "You need to get up and go home and eat something. Or else you'll actually die."

He's right, because the weakness and dizziness in her body might be from the beginnings of hypoglycemia and dehydration from overusing her quirk, but she doesn't move. Her eyes don't want to stay open, and all she manages is a whine.

"Fuckin' hell. Ain't a request, doc. It's an order. Since you lost." She feels his absence from her side when she stands up, and then the ground's absence as she feels herself lifted to her feet.

Strong, solid arms go above her and round her shoulder as he dresses her in his discarded hoodie. The shift in position and the sudden proximity wakes her up enough to stand with some support. She looks at his side, and he looks back, one eyebrow raised and mouth in a scowl, quietly asking her if she's ready.

She nods, and together they shuffle out of the kind shade of the tree, out of the park, and back into the empty city streets.

The walk to her condominium unit usually takes ten minutes, but Momo feels the moments stretch and shrink and dwindle, so that she isn't sure if they're too long or too short. It's been so long since she feels his touch on her, so close, too close, and she isn't sure if it's the right that she feels it now, when she feels that she hasn't done enough, known enough.

Still, her cheeks redden and her chest trembles and her heart beats in anticipation. She curses her body for responding to his proximity so shamelessly.

Eventually, they make it to her unit. Katsuki brings her across the threshold of her own home without hesitation, carefully lets her collapse onto the couch. He gives her a bottle of juice, which she quietly accepts. She's grateful for the comfort and softness, but immediately wanting of warmth as he leaves her to disappear in the kitchen.

She wonders if it's improper to remain so quiet to not say a word since their departure from the park. The whole situation took a turn that she hasn't prepared for. So she shyly listens to the sounds he makes-the whoosh of the flame of her unused stove, cracking eggshells, the crackle and pop of oil on the pan.

He works fast. In minutes, he comes back with a meal that's simpler than the ones he'd made for her before, but no less appetizing-bacon, eggs, and leftover rice fried in garlic, presented neatly in a Hermes bowl with a pair of chopsticks.

"Eat," he says, in that demanding tone she hasn't heard for a long while, making something in her chest flutter. She shakily and carefully takes the bowl and mumbles her thanks.

"What about you?"

He raises an eyebrow at her. "Your kitchen's fuckin' empty, Momo. Even if I wanted to eat, ain't much I can do with a half-eaten croissant and instant noodles. Fuckin' nasty stuff. I thought you of all people would be above eatin' that shit."

She bought those noodles from Don Quixote one evening when she felt especially suffocated. It was more of an experiment than anything. She doesn't have the strength to explain those trivial things to him, though, and focuses on eating her food instead.

As expected, breakfast is lovely. The bacon is crispy, but not burnt. The eggs are fried perfectly. She didn't expect that leftover rice in garlic would taste so appetizing, with unexpected crystals of rock salt in the furikake making her want to eat more and more. The words form at the tip of her tongue as she chews.

But as much as she wants to gush about his food, like she does with confidence before, the overwhelming shyness prevails. "This is very good, Katsuki. Thank you," she says, as she is halfway done.

"'Course it is," he grumbles, as it always does. But today the usual pride in his voice is markedly absent.

"Of course," she repeats, with a quiet smile.

She continues picking at the rice grain by grain, listening to the sound of birds and traffic outside. Sunshine leaks through the windows, casting everything in its too-bright warmth. Dust dances and settles in between the loaded silence, as he watches her in an oddly loaded silence.

And then, as she places a mangled strip of eggwhite in her mouth: "King Explosion Murder."

She freezes mid-chew and stares at him with more bafflement than anything else. He has his arms crossed in front of him, shoulders leaning forward, red eyes on her and nothing else, pressuring her to understand.

She gives him a look that tells him plainly that she doesn't, and it's odd of him to say gibberish out of nowhere when he's usually so blunt and direct to the point. This amuses him greatly, but he continues: "You asked before. That would have been my hero name, if I had gone pro. I thought of it when I was in middle school."

She blinks and swallows her food hastily. Before she can go oh, he keeps on talking.

"I was going to be the first one from our middle school to get into UA Heroics. I had the quirk, the money, the paperworks, the glowing recommendations, everything." He exhales, as if he just held his breath pulling a splinter from his side. "I… wanted to be better than All Might. Do you remember him?"

"Everyone does," Momo answers softly. It would be hard to forget a hero, no… a man like him. All the sacrifices he made, up until that day when…

Katsuki nods, and this time the look in his eyes is different. His eyebrows crease, his hands shake, his breaths become a little unsteady.

The silence that follows stretches for far too long, and Momo feels the need to place the bowl down and to come closer to him. She embraces him, because he lets her. And she suspect he lets her so that she won't be able to see his face, as he struggles to continue.

"It was me," he says, when his strong shoulders shake precariously, and she starts stroking his back. "On that day, when that fucking monster attacked, I died, and then he…"

She closes her eyes and remembers that story: All Might, the then-symbol of peace, saves a child from a villain with a quirk that makes his flesh turn to parasitic sludge, by using his limited strength reserves and then letting himself be the villain's host, defeating it from the inside out. The unnamed child, who gave in from the prolonged asphyxiation that came with the delayed rescue, had to be given CPR by his friend before he was revived.

Along with All Might, they were sent to a nearby hospital and treated aggressively. But modern medicine and limited manpower can only do so much. The child recovered, although had permanent damage. The same cannot be said for the Symbol of Peace, who has regressed to a weakened skeleton, only having the strength to call out to his successor before he succumbed to a coma that lasted for years…

The harrowing incident shook the country. Many pro-heroes realized that the danger they're facing is bigger than they've ever imagined, and many resigned. So did a lot of kids in the hero courses. Years after, the number of hopeful children in hero courses dwindled, and only revived recently with the rise of Endeavor.

Is this the burden that he's been carrying all along? Momo had hoped that everything would make sense for her one day, but she never imagined that the truth would be so heavy and painful to hear. She immediately understands why he's been so afraid, all this time: just hearing this made Momo's entire soul heavy. She's sure that he doesn't want that burden on anyone else.

But somehow… here he is, deciding that maybe… maybe, she can handle the truth. Not because he wants her pity. Not because he pities her. But because things are what they are, and maybe it's the right time and place to admit these uncomfortable truths to themselves.

So Momo accepts his words. Accepts him-the angry boy on TV, the complicated man in her arms. She thinks she always had, in a way.

"It's all right. I'm here," she whispers when Katsuki is unable to say another word.

On another morning, no different from any other morning, Momo crosses paths with Katsuki again.

She's alone. As is he, but it's pointless to say so because he always runs alone. It's been a week since they last saw each other. It may have been entirely an accident that they've waited that long to see each other's faces again. She finds it a relief, then, that his carries the same mild irritation that it always has.

She regards him quietly with a nod and a polite smile, and continues her jog. He falls in next to her quite naturally, the thudding of his feet going along with her rhythm, the heavy sound of it echoing lightly along the dim streets.

Three minutes of this comfortable silence pass before she hears his gruff voice beside her: "Race me."

She turns to him curiously. In between rapid breaths, she asks, "The same as usual?"

"No." He turns to the direction of a main boulevard, three kilometers up an incline in a straight line. Security cameras and other early morning joggers pollute the side, as do the sparse early morning traffic. "No quirks, no tricks. Just you and me and the street."

She isn't going to win this because there's no way to outsmart him under such conditions. Still, she might as well try.

They start the race, and as expected Katsuki becomes a blonde-and-black blur, zooming forward like a stray bullet. Momo runs as fast as she can, fast enough that her chest and her heart feels like exploding and all her muscles are cursing her for this exercise in futility.

When she sees the end of the road, she sees him slow down to a half-jog, turning around to finally face her with a victorious grin on her face.

She feels like fainting herself, but she manages to run to him and return his smile, in between gasps for air. "Congratulations, Katsuki. You finally won."

"Fuck yeah I won, Princess. Time to pay up," he replies. It's unfair that he doesn't appear as exhausted as she feels. But she supposes, after all the hard work she put him through for the past week or so, he's earned this one.

"All right," she says, willing her heart and breathing to slow down. Even though it's really hard to do so, given the way he's stepping into her space, big and heavy and fierce with all his heat emanating off his skin. He doesn't touch her, but she feels the steam and the burn from where she stands.

He hasn't been this close in a while. She'd almost forgotten how it feels to have those eyes so close to hers, how she has to fight the urge to relinquish her control and to give in to whatever he desires.

She hates how it's her body that remembers first, though. Goosebumps rise and shivers go up and down her spine when he reaches out and lets his hand hover over shoulder, down her collar bone, along the side of her neck, before settling on her chin. She has to close her eyes, and barely keeps herself from shuddering when she feels his thumb rub against the suddenly sensitive skin there, making it tingle with nitroglycerin.

"Momo… stop this shit," he murmurs. His breath is warm against her ear when he leans forward and continues. "I'm sorry for fucking up. For everything. You don't have to do this anymore. Whatever you want to know, I..."

He's never sounded so tender before. There's really no other appropriate response to his apology, but to accept it.

Momo opens her eyes, and smiles. Wordlessly, she takes his hand into hers and puts it in between them, fingers entwining easily and naturally. She nods.

He smiles at her, and nods back.

After that, they walk the familiar streets of Hosu, hand-in-hand, quiet and comfortable and calm. The sun has just begun to rise behind the sleepy buildings of a Sunday morning when they reach Momo's condominium. So this is where we say goodbye , she wants to say, when she turns from her open door to face him.

But she doesn't get a chance to get a word out. Her breath stops when she feels his lips on hers and his burning grip on her arms.

He isn't forceful at all with this kiss, and that surprises her more than the action itself. Momo doesn't think that he's capable of gentle movements like this. But his grip on her borders between patience and impatience, of control and pure impulse.

It lasts for a few seconds, but when he pulls back and makes her aware of the growing space between them, she feels that it's both a moment too long and short.

"Katsuki," she whispers.

He stares at her as if he's surprised of what he did, too. But he clearly doesn't regret it, not by the upturn of his mouth. "Been a while," is all he says, as he steps back.

She doesn't let him.

Gripping her hands in the front of his shirt, she pulls him in for another kiss, a hungry and more desperate one, one that tells him clearly just how long 'a while' has truly been without him. And as he returns it with the same fervor, he finds himself out of the hallway and past the threshold of her home.

He closes and locks the door behind them.

AN:

First of all! I'm sorry that this is late! I redid so many scenes in this chapter because nothing sounded okay! I keep saying that but the struggle is very real in this chapter-I had to debate on how to reveal Katsuki's past and all the pain that comes with it, without Momo getting stuck in a place where she will feel nothing for him but pity. And also Izuku. Gah I might have been able to do better but if I allowed myself to get stuck any further I might not be able to finish this chapter at all so whatevs.

So! At least the hard part is done! Maybe we can get back to the fluffs? Idk because there's, um, one last messed up thing due to happen though and I hope you stick around for that.

Thank you very much for all the kind words and comments and kudos and reblogs and reviews so far. They just really, really, really keep me going! I hope the wait isn't too frustrating T_T See you in the next update!