Don't mind me, just chilling in rarepair hell
29 Mar 2019
“Nightmares?” Momo guesses. Between all the times their class has been attacked, it's not uncommon for her to come here to find one of her classmates huddled alone in the kitchen, as if the bright lights and warm microwave ramen are enough to keep the memories of villains away.
“Not really, those are different. This is just…” Midoriya sets down the spoon. “Do you ever get this feeling that you're not enough? Like you're constantly chasing this thing that's just out of reach?”
25 Oct 2019
It's become something of a tradition for the two of them, ever since that fateful meeting in the dorm kitchen, to unwind here in the evenings. It's a peaceful scene, almost idyllic: Izuku hums softly to himself as he chops vegetables, then scrapes the cutting board into a gently simmering pot. Momo makes a small noise of frustration, staring at her task, until Izuku comes to stand behind her and shows her how to operate the rice cooker, placing his hands on hers and lingering perhaps a second longer than necessary.
Tonight isn't quite like that, though. Tonight, Momo shows up early, brews a pot of her strongest tea, and chugs two cups while it's still piping hot.
Tonight, when Izuku walks in, the teacup shatters in her hand. She hardly reacts, only stand to sweep the shards up with a paper towel, maintaining the same strained expression.