She deserved the best, that was why he took her to the movies, bought her popcorn, opened doors for her. He nervously started small talks that swiftly became easy conversation because she was just graceful that way, and on the way back to U.A. he was brave enough to hold her hand.
She was intelligent, beautiful and kind, the perfect shape of a brilliant hero, and he learned something with her every time they were together, hoping to God that she felt the same about him, fearing that he wasn’t nearly good enough.
“It was a lovely evening, Shoto,” she said sweetly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and he felt his cheeks burn. They were almost at the gate, and school grounds meant no PDA – even though no one followed that rule – and he would lose his timing if…
Momo let go of his hand and turned around, looking at the skyline, and she sighed.
“Beautiful evening,” she said, a hand to her chest and a smile on her face. Shoto couldn’t take his eyes off of her. “Don’t you think?”
“I think…” he started and she looked at him, dark irises shining. A sudden courage rushed through him and he stepped closer, his hand looked for hers again, grasping her fingers and tangling them with his. “Yes.”
“Uh?” Momo said confused, and before that courage left him, Shoto zeroed the space between them and kissed her ever so gently, giving her a chance to say no, to step back, to hate him forever for taking such liberties, but to his surprise her free hand rested against his chest and she leaned in on the kiss, closed her eyes, and he did the same, enjoying the moment as best as he could.
A lovely evening, indeed.