"So, in short, Hitoshi kicked me out."

"Uh huh." Uraraka was skeptical and puzzled. Naturally so, Izuku Midoriya stood in front of her dorm room, while hugging his pillow and sporting a blanket over his shoulder like a shawl.

But given the fact that the villain-in-custody annoyed and stuck to Shinso -- the poor guy -- like a buzzing mosquito, she believed his story without a beat of hesitation. The bewilderment of the situation had actually been Izuku seeking her out at such an unholy hour. He often may cross personal space, but he never crossed 'personal space' -- trust her, there was a difference.

He was a 'gentleman', or so he said.

"So, you two fought?"

"He got angry after catching me trimming his hair in his sleep."

"Why would you--" She almost laughed, and he noticed, which made him laugh. "Still, I can't hang out with you this late."

"Uraraka," he whined, "please. I'm lonely."

Uraraka stared at him for a bit longer and she noticed his eyes were puffy. She saw the same condition the day he had been at his most vulnerable. "Wait here for a second," she said, proceeding to close the door behind her.

Izuku only had a minute to wonder what the girl was doing before her door opened. And what he saw lifted his mood exponentially:

A thin blanket tailed behind her, dragging on the floor until she lifted it up, and covered her upper body. She too hugged a mini pillow in her arms. "We're matching now," she pointed out.

Izuku found himself genuinely laughing. Jokes aside, he liked her more and more every day.

Uraraka chuckled. "Come on, let's go get some fresh air."

And that was how the two ended up drinking a new flavored tea, Momo brought yesterday on the porch of the 1A dormitory. They momentarily sat in silence; Izuku wasn't complaining. He enjoyed silence just as much as Shinso - a paradox he was.

"Uraraka," he called as he stared at the crescent moon.

She too focused her gaze on something else, namely her cup and the steam flowing into the air. "What's wrong, Midoriya?"

Izuku had been the first to turn to the person seated next to him then she done the same moments after. Taken aback, a weak chuckle escaped his lips, and his hand instinctively reached the nape of his neck. "I didn't notice I was calling you like that."

"Call me whatever is comfortable to you," she took a sip of her tea. "So, what did you want to say just now?"

"This might sound out of the blue, but how did your parents feel, uh, about you becoming a hero?" Izuku wanted nothing more to look away, but a stronger want to stare at her kept him from doing so. "Did they support your decision?"

Uraraka hummed and thought back to the day she first told her parents she wanted to take the U.A entrance exams. It was the week she finished her second year of middle school. "Naturally, they were worried about me putting myself in dangerous situations. Pros are always in the frontlines, after all, so we had a long talk about it."

"Oh." Izuku wasn't surprised. In fact, it reminded him of his mother.

"But--" Uraraka smiled brightly at him, which caused something to yet again stir inside Izuku, "--they were really happy for me. That's how parents are, always the worrywarts but love their kids rotten no matter what!"

"What if," Izuku paused, dithering as he finally broke eye contact, "what if their child did something that's so bad, they can't ever forgive them."

Once he came out and said it, his nerves blocked him from every other sensation -- he only heard his thoughts and them alone. For six whole years, he had pondered the answer to that question and truthfully, he did nothing to find out the right one, the one that mattered. Would she still love me?

Deep down, he accepted and reminded himself that his mother stopped loving him the moment she heard that her son -- still well and alive -- had become a criminal. No, he supposed she hated him the second she woke up in the hospital, realizing her child set fire to their house. He knew this.

Yet, why was he so adamant about not meeting her when he already knew how it would go?

"Why do you think you lose your nerve? Because you can't handle the truth." Bakugou's words echoed in his head. Izuku's lips involuntarily pursed into a straight line and his grip on the cup tightened.

"They might not forgive you, but it doesn't mean they don't still love you."

Midoriya lifted his head, almost in a flinch, and he stared at Uraraka with wide eyes. Huh?

She laughed sheepishly.

"I know, I know. Everyone has their circumstances, but a parent who truly loves their child--it's hard for them to hate their children." Her eyes softened, her smile gentle and voice all of those mixed together into something comforting. "Especially a mother's love."

Izuku hung onto her every word - not simply due to those butterflies he felt when she was near him but because of what she said.

It was something far from the truth he believed to be, but merely just, what he wanted -- perhaps, needed -- to hear. A luxury he hadn't had in a while and apparently, a common occurrence in U.A from the teachers to the students.

He understood now why Iida, and others, seemed so naive, but maybe, that wasn't so bad.

Izuku remained uncharacteristically quiet, but subtly nodded towards Uraraka as a last attempt to show he was listening. They drank their tea in silence, conversed about unimportant yet significant things then went their separate ways.

Although it was the truth that Shinso kicked him out for his weird nightly antics, Izuku understood Shinso also needed space to process what he learned the night before.

So, when it was early in the morning, Izuku left first -- leaving a note behind since his phone was confiscated.

'Meeting Aizawa,' Izuku paused his movements, "Sensei, at the teacher's office. See ya at school!'