A week had passed since the night (L/N) knocked on her door and fallen asleep in her arms. He was already gone by the time Yaoyorozu woke, he himself having woken an hour after falling asleep, retreating to his quarters in the basement, but not before using his quirk to evaporate the water he'd inadvertently tracked all over her room.

They hadn't talked about what he'd said that night. Truthfully, (L/N) had been so exhausted he didn't remember saying anything at all, only that he needed her and her warm, calming presence. And Yaoyorozu, still embarrassed by her own confession, didn't know how to broach the subject. She didn't know how to describe what she felt for him other than love. But how do you explain such a deep emotional connection to someone who didn't know the meaning of the word? How do you verbalize something like that? She didn't know. She decided the best thing she could do, the only thing she could do, was to love him, and to keep loving him, and hope that in doing so he would one day understand.

That weekend she insisted on taking him out to the mall. Perhaps it was a side effect of growing up wealthy, but gift giving had always been her way of showing affection. She dragged him by the hand through the many different shops, pointing out things at random to gauge his response and see if he might like any of them, hoping to shower him in presents by the end of the day. But he offered no hints, remaining expressionless as ever.

As they passed by a clothing boutique, Yaoyorozu noticed a stunning floral-patterned sundress in the window display. It was marked for clearance as the store was trying to empty its summer collection before the arrival of winter, enticing Momo enough to venture into the store. Walking hand in hand through the many aisles, she lost herself to the fantasy of being there as a couple and couldn't help but rest her head against (L/N)'s shoulder as they continued their window shopping.

"Oh, look at this." Momo pulled (L/N) over to a mannequin that caught her eye. It was dressed in a three-piece suit made of navy colored wool. A tan overcoat was draped around its shoulders, complete with a checkered scarf hanging from the neck. "You would look nice in this. You look nice in blue." She said absentmindedly as she ran her fingers gently over the fabric of the cuffs.

At the checkout, Momo presented the sundress and a handful of other outfits she'd decided to get for herself. (L/N) wandered off as the clerk scanned the many items, trailing his finger along the glass of the display cases at the checkout counter. Keeping watch out of the corner of her eye, Yaoyorozu noticed him stop about midway down the counter as his attention was grabbed by something behind the glass.

Taking her bags from the cashier with a polite 'thank you', Momo walked up to (L/N). "Ready to go?" She asked.

He didn't respond, still fixated on the item on display. Looking down, Yaoyorozu saw a collection of lovely bracelets and handsome watches sitting on velvet cushions. Smiling, she took (L/N)'s hand.

"Ready to go?" She asked again. He nodded, and she led them out of the store, making a mental note to return the next day for the watch he had been staring at.

As they left the mall, Momo noticed with some worry that (L/N)'s brow was once again pinched together in discomfort and his lips downturned. She asked if he was okay, but he brushed it off as he always did. Over the next few days, she paid careful attention to him. She noticed how uncomfortable he seemed to be, when they walked hand in hand through the crowded school halls or on those few rare occasions when he joined her during lunch in the bustling cafeteria. He hadn't had any more episodes since finally breaking his addiction to the blue and white capsules, so she had thought his senses weren't as delicate anymore. But by the way he fidgeted uncomfortably when they were together in public, she guessed the headaches hadn't completely disappeared quite yet, so she decided to spend more time with him in private, away from the noise so it could be just the two of them.

They read together every night, sometimes for hours and sometimes for barely a few minutes before the book was abandoned and instead, they talked. She noticed that he was more open than before. When she used to ask him about himself, his answers were always very brief. But now he talked at length about how he learned to adapt to his loss of sight when she had asked. He told her in detail about the first time he tried baking a souffle, only to have it explode in the oven. And much to her surprise, he told her stories about Kendo; that apparently, she used to be quite the trickster in her youth, and that one of her pranks involving a rubber mouse had resulted in two firetrucks being called to Shonien's.

Speaking of Kendo, Momo saw the two of them interacting more frequently and much more amicably than she had seen in the past. They greeted each other in the hallways, albeit with a cautious trepidation, and even had short conversations before classes. It made Yaoyorozu happy to see (L/N) and Kendo had, to some extent, repaired their relationship. Even still, she had to admit that there was a part of her that remained jealous. There was a history there, and Momo knew Kendo still harbored at least some affection for (L/N). And though she knew Kendo would never act upon those feelings, she couldn't help but feel a little insecure.

What Momo had with (F/N) was special, this she knew. The bond they shared ran deeper than her insecurities. But the bond they shared was also undefined. Even after all they'd been through, Yaoyorozu still didn't know where she stood with (L/N). She still didn't know how he felt about her. She had asked him once. Asked who she was to him. He replied with an inquisitive look, and said slowly, "You're... Momo."

She had tried to take his words for what they were. But the problem was she didn't know what that was. And as she passed the two of them talking together in an empty classroom during lunch, she couldn't help but feel there were still things he was hiding from her.

[My Hero Academia]

"I've heard through the grapevine that you're a great chef." Kendo said, swinging her legs back and forth from where she sat atop the teacher's desk. "Why don't you make dinner for her? That would be really sweet."

"N-No, that isn't... i-it's not good enough." (L/N) shook his head and scratched the back of his neck with his knuckles, shooting down another one of her ideas.

Kendo drummed her hands on her lap and hummed in thought. "Oh, I know! You could play something for her." She suggested. "I always used to love listening to you play piano. I bet she wou..."

"That's not good enough!" (L/N) cried out, frustratedly digging his fist into his palm.

Kendo huffed and slouched her shoulders in annoyance. "Well why not?"

"It's her birthday, it needs to be special." He said loudly. "It... i-it needs to be more. I... I need to be..." An unsteady breath cut off the rest of his sentence and he rubbed his hands over his face. "I need to get her something." He said much more calmly. "Something real."

Frowning, Kendo looked down at her hands and picked at her nail polish. "You don't have to get her anything, you know." She said, looking at him from the top of her eyes. "I'm sure she'd be happy just to spend some time with you."

The edges of his mouth tightened, and he fell back into the corner of the room, shrinking into the ashen concrete.

"What, do you not think so?" Kendo asked.

(L/N) sighed heavily and dropped his chin to his chest. "I don't know." He whispered. "It's just... sometimes, when I'm with her, it... it feels like she's waiting for something."

"Like what?"

"...something more." (L/N) said, hugging his arms. "D-Do you think..." He slid his hands up to wrap around his shoulders.  "Do you think she's disappointed?" He said into his arm. "M-Maybe I was supposed to be something else."

"Why would you think that?" Kendo asked sadly. "Did she say something to you?" A sudden fire sprang to life in her veins, and she pushed herself off the desk.

"No, it's not that. It's just... she asked me something the other day."

"What did she ask?" Kendo prompted, still feeling heated.

"She... asked me who she was to me."

From how slowly he said it, Kendo could tell the question confused him. She, however, understood why Yaoyorozu would want to know. It was a question she herself had wondered many times when they were younger. "And what did you say."

There was a softness to his features Kendo had never seen before. One that seemed to envelop his entire body. The dark shadows and heavy lines that always weighed down his face receded as he slowly lowered his arms, his thumb unconsciously tracing small circles on the back of his hand. "She's Momo." He said quietly.

Kendo blinked. She had been expecting more. "Is that it?"

His hands stopped moving. The fond expression on his face disappeared in an instant, replaced by a mixture of fear and sadness. "Isn't that enough?"

"No, no. It's not that that's not... I just think she was expecting something else, is all." Kendo said quickly, picking up on the feint tremble in his question and hoping she hadn't just shattered some piece of him. "You know, like...  I think she was hoping you would say, um...  t-that she makes you happy, or... or that you enjoy her company." She proposed. "Maybe she just wanted you to tell her how important she is to you."

Kendo smiled uncomfortably, hoping she'd managed to talk her way out of her mistake. But the bottom of his blindfold slipped further down his cheekbones as a heavy emptiness pressed in on him.

"I thought I did." He breathed.

It were as if the weight of the emptiness were too much for him. His back slid against the concrete as he slumped into the corner, leaning against the adjoining wall. Kendo winced as she heard his temple hit the cement, but he didn't seem to pay it any mind. He looked defeated, and she was certain if the wall hadn't been there, he would have simply collapsed.

"Isn't that what it means?" He asked, turning his face further into the corner. "When someone gives you their name like that? That they're giving you a part of who they are. And then that part of them... becomes a part of you. And if you lost her... you wouldn't know who you are anymore.

"Isn't that what I'm saying?" He asked desperately. "When she lets me call her Momo? Isn't that what she's saying when she..."

The words died in his throat and his shoulder slowly began to slide down the wall.

"It's not, is it?" He asked the wall.

How many times would he make the same mistake; of placing value in things others found trivial? Oh, what a fool he was.