“Momo? I’m here,” Shouto calls from outside of her door. She texted him only a few minutes earlier with the words, 'Emergency. Not dying.' And despite the confirmation that she was not, in fact, dying, he still dashed to her room as quickly as he could.
“The door’s unlocked,” Momo replies through the door and Shouto wastes no time swinging it open and entering. He’s met with the image of Momo clutching her abdomen with her bottom in the air and her head on a pillow.
Oh. It’s one of those days.
“No one has any Midol?” Shouto asks, already knowing the very obvious answer.
“No,” Momo answers through gritted teeth. The pain she’s in shows clear across her face. “It’s no surprise though,” Momo continues, struggling to talk in a voice that doesn’t betray how much pains she’s in. “We’ve all been sharing the same bottle since we started dorming.”
Shouto brushes back the fly-away hairs of Momo’s messy ponytail away from her face. He gently traces his finger along her cheekbone in an attempt to comfort her. “You can’t create some yourself?”
Momo groans. “I can. I won’t. I could singlehandedly crash the local economy if I just created everything I wanted at any given time.”
He wants to question her logic (one teenage girl with a creation quirk is unlikely to topple an economy, even a local one) but when Momo has made up her mind, she’s made up her mind. Even with being in so much pain she still wouldn’t dare to break her own moral code. Shouto smiles fondly. The world will be lucky to have her as a Pro Hero someday.
“What can I do then,” Shouto asks softly, still gently caressing her face. “I can be a makeshift heat pad. I... believe that helps. Right?”
Momo huffs, a small sound of mirth riddled with discomfort, and leans into Shouto’s touch. “It does, usually, but I think—“ She stops suddenly and squints, trying to overcome a wave of sudden pain. “I think I might also need medicinal assistance this time.” She inhales sharply, eyes still squeezed shut. It takes a while for her to shakily exhale and look up at Shouto again. “Would you mind going to the pharmacy for me?”
“You only need to say the word,” Shouto replies. “Do you need anything else?” Even though he’s holding it together well, he feels a bit in over his head. Even though he’s lived with an older sister for most of his life, he still doesn’t know the slightest thing about taking care of civilians with menstrual pain. They should really teach these things somewhere! After all, heroes need to know how to handle every situation, even the more mundane ones. He makes a mental note to ask Aizawa-sensei about adding such crucial lectures to the course syllabus.
“I wrote out a list before you came,” Momo says. “On my desk.”
He walks over to it and finds a pink sticky note covered in Momo’s carefully neat handwriting. There are four bullet points.
Heat pad (Because I don’t want to bother you all day)’
Shouto can hardly contain his smile at the third bullet. He could never be bothered by Momo but it was refreshing to finally have someone that cared about his feelings and took them into account. She was so sweet without even trying. His heart swells dramatically in his chest.
He’s so overtaken with the sudden wave of affection that he hardly processes the last bullet. He stands by her desk for awhile coming down from his high but also trying to understand the necessity of the last item.
“Shouto? Are you okay?” Momo’s voice pierces through his thoughts. He finally turns around to face her and smiles.
“I’m fine. Two things, though.”
Momo quirks an eyebrow and nods for him to continue.
Shouto raises one finger. “I love you,” he says and Momo’s face shades a flattering pink. Before she can respond, though, he raises another finger and continues. “But don’t you think 32 tubs of ice cream is a bit... extreme?”
Shouto watches Momo’s face shift into a contemplative look. After a few moments of silence she answers. “You’re right. I won’t actually eat all of that.”
“Right. I was th—“
“Mark it down to 24. Vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry. Eight cartons of each, please.” Shouto looks at her for another moment before doing exactly what she says.
“Okay,” he responds slowly. “Anything else?”
“No, I should be fine until you get back. Thank you.”
“Sure. You don’t have to worry about the heat pad though,” he says while walking towards the door.
“Oh? You have one already?”
“No,” Shouto responds. “But I don’t mind sitting with you all day. I’d love it, actually. We could finally start crossing things off our ‘Must-See’ list.”
“Ooh,” Momo exclaims enthusiastically, “let’s start with the documentary series I’ve been telling you about!”
Shouto is halfway out the door and quietly nodding his agreement when Momo suddenly calls his name again. “Shouto.”
“I love you too! Be safe,” she smiles, for once not looking addled with pain, and Shouto returns it with his own.
He’ll never stop wondering how he got so lucky.