One thing I didn't imagine would ever happen to me was some hero shattering my apartment window while I was doing my homework. In his defense, I was pretty sure he wasn't trying to shatter my window, and he was really focused on capturing that villain. Who could've known that trying to launch yourself off a window pane could be a bad idea? The only issue was that now I had a gaping hole in my apartment which was bringing in the sweltering summer air and all sorts of unwelcome bugs. I was pretty sure I had gained three mosquito bites alone just staring at my window frame gaping in horror.

The hero, who seemed to have a quirk involving tape or something, fell into my room, rolling a few times before slamming into my nightstand. He shook his head a few times, a bit dazed, before getting up, making sure to carefully avoid the thousands of pieces of glass at his feet. I hadn't moved from my desk (I was a good student just trying to study for my upcoming test) and I sighed just watching him.

I had never hated heroes so much as I did now. Windows were expensive to replace, and I was not someone who could blow hundreds of thousands of yen easily. That meant that I would also have to file a claim with my insurance company, which would take weeks to complete, with the weasley bastards trying to avoid paying me any money the entire time. All of this would have to be done while I was trying to study for college, meaning I really didn't have the time for all of this nonsense.

The hero in question, who sported a mullet that actually suited him quite well and a ridiculous costume that made him look like a tape dispenser, quickly apologized for the damages. His eyebrows scrunched together in worry and guilt, which really reminded me of the puppy dog down the street when he got caught eating my neighbor's shoe, and he shot me a sorry look before shooting out the window again with his tape dispenser arms.

The villain still had to be caught after all. But I, who was not one to take my property being damaged so lightly, especially not in the boiling summer heat (I was going to have trouble sleeping in the terribly hot weather), quickly threw my head out the window and yelled at both him and the villain. This action caused the both of them to swivel their heads around, one guiltily, one slightly amused, and then collectively ignore me. Rude.

"You!"I pointed at the hero, who was busy wrapping the villain in tape, kind of like a mummy. "You better come back and pay for this window or I'm going to beat you up myself!"

Of course, it was an empty threat. A college student with no quirk would have a hard time taking down a pro hero, but that didn't stop me from yelling it out anyways.

What I didn't expect was for him to yell back, "I'll be there after my shift! I promise! I'm sorry!" and then take off somewhere, probably the police station, with the villain all wrapped up in tape. The villain shot me a dirty look over the hero's shoulder, and I glared right back because whose fault was it really that my window got shattered?

And the hero kept his promise. That afternoon, I was studying diligently at my desk next to the ruined window. The blazing summer breeze was counteracted by a small fan and a chilling cold glass of water I had placed on my desk. Condensation clung to the side of the chilled drink, and I clamped my hand down on the pages of my textbook to stop the fan from blowing the page over to the next again.

That's when I heard a knock on the door. Grateful for the respite from studying, I padded through my apartment, glanced through the peephole (I could never be too careful in a town where villains ran rampant), and then opened the door. The black haired hero gave me a nervous smile. In his casual clothing, I noted that he looked like any other civilian on the street. Except, maybe a bit handsomer than average.

He brought with him an envelope, probably containing a check for the window, and a plastic bag. He gave me a once over, and I wondered what he saw, for he averted his gaze, sheepishly grinning. He seemed to have taken an interest in the wall besides him.

"Do you want to come in?" I asked, quietly. I had calmed down from earlier, albeit I was still a little pissed at him.

"Ah, yes. Thank you." His eyes met mine again, and I noted that they were a rich black color. Thousands of colors blended together into a beautiful black.

He stepped inside my apartment and followed me to the couch. I sunk into one of the plush cushions and motioned for him to do the same. After he put the envelope and bag down on the coffee table, he sat, and I couldn't help but stare at his elbows. I briefly wondered how tape dispensed from there.

"Look, before I say anything else, I really would like to apologize," he rubbed the back of his neck apologetically. "I didn't mean to break through your window like that. Capturing Hex was my number one priority and I-"

"Tried using my window as a launchpad." I finished for him. "What's your name?"

The hero looked surprised. "Uh, Sero Hanta. I would shake your hand but I have a feeling that this isn't the time for that."

I snickered. "At least you can read the room. How much do you weigh, Sero?"

Now was the time for confusion to set in on Sero's face. "59 kilograms, why?"

"Have you ever taken a physics class?"

"At U.A, we had to. So, yes?"

I shifted forwards, leaning slightly closer to the hero. "Then you know what happens when an object with a lot of mass slams into another object at a high speed, don't you? Especially when that other object is made of glass?"

Sero pinched the bridge of his nose, "Yes…yes, I do. I admit I didn't think that one through."

"Great." I smiled. I leaned back. "Glad we got that out of the way."

"Did you call me here just to call me stupid?"

"Maybe?"

He matched my smile, and I thought he looked much more handsome when he really smiled. "I guess it was well deserved. Anyways, I brought a blank check with me, so you can use it to fix the window."

I raised an eyebrow incredulously. "What if I decide to rip you off?"

"You wouldn't do that." He reached for the plastic bag, pulling out some oranges. His eyes watched your face carefully, teasingly. "You're a good person, aren't you?"

"Well, since you're a hero, I feel like I'm legally obligated to say yes to that question."

He let out a small chuckle, and laid out the oranges on my coffee table. The summer had done them well. They sat there under the golden sunlight, fat and juicy, tinted with thousands of shades of orange. Reds, yellows, blues, and greens all came together to form the loveliest oranges I had ever seen. If I held one in my hand, I could tell that they would be the size of a heart, full and round.

"What are these for?" I questioned, rotating a cool orange around in my hands. The skin of the orange held a familiar roughness that reminded me of the many summers I had experienced eating oranges.

"An extra token of apology," Sero said simply. "I went to the local's farmers market today."

"Interesting." I peeled one open, revealing the soft, sweet slices inside. I split it in half, offering Sero the a half of the summer fruit. "For you."

He nodded a thanks, taking my gift. "Oranges are my favorite fruit. They're sweet and nutritious. Perfect for sharing."

Sero and I sat in silence for a while, eating the orange slices together. They tasted like love and care. They tasted like the sun and fresh air and crisp water. They tasted like my childhood. They were sweet, and juice dripped down my fingers. It was a quiet and intimate moment, a moment that felt like home.

"Thank you for sharing this moment with me," Sero murmured. His voice blended in with the summer breeze drifting in through the windows. I had opened them all in hopes of letting in cool air.

There's something intimate, something domestic, about eating oranges with a stranger. It feels like sharing a piece of my heart. Because, there really is no need to share the slices of an orange, but we do it anyway. And that's what life is all about, isn't it? Small acts of kindness and appreciation, of love between strangers, of compassion. Of eating orange slices with a hero that smashed down my window.

"It's no biggie." I watched him close his eyes, savoring the summer sun. "You should come back to finish all of these oranges with me."

He cracked an eye open. "You don't like oranges?"

"No, no. I like them. But I enjoy your company as well," I confessed. My hands were sticky with fruit juice. There was a ballad being sung below my apartment building, the lyrics mushy soft and tender. Someone was singing a song to a lover.

He laughed. Real and whole. "Then, I'll take up your offer. It's not often I get to eat oranges with a friend."

"You'd better." I pointed at the coffee table, which was full of oranges. "I literally cannot finish this alone. They're going to go bad before I can eat them all."

"Then, I guess I'll have to make sure I come then. Don't want precious oranges to go to waste." He winked, writing down his phone number on the back of the envelope. "Feel free to text or call at any time."

"Sure. I'll be figuring out ways to eat oranges, so stay tuned. Maybe dried oranges dipped in chocolate? Or orange cake? Or orange marmalade on toast?"

"Sounds delicious." He smiled, eyes shining with the softness of orange slices under the summer sun.