the roommate contract - todomomo

eighteen \\ "you're a fucking monster"

"You're a fucking monster," Shouto groaned as he laid face down on the couch. To say the least, neither of the two roommates were having a good day. They had both known it was a bad idea to get hammered and dance to old One Direction songs at one in the morning, but they'd ignored the sinking feeling that they were damning themselves the next morning becuase at the time, that had been tomorrow's problem.

The problem with that is that tomorrow had decided to hit them like a train for it. The lights were too bright, and all of Shouto's muscles ached, and every single fucking noise made the dual-haired man's head feel like someone was driving an ice pick through his ear. And the worst part was that Momo was still stubbornly waiting for an apology before she returned the coffee machine.

"Stop talking," She mumbled, her face pressed flatly against the cold steel of the kitchen island as she tried to make the ringing in her head go away. This wasn't even like her. For one thing, she never got drunk becuase you did irresponsible things when you were drunk and she didn't like not being in control of her actions. But something about the way he presented the option to her made her think that maybe it would be fun just one time. And it was. For that one night. Now it was severely less fun.

"You're a fucking monster," He emphasized, causing Momo's head to nearly split in half in stark protest at the sudden loud noise. It was official, she was never going to drink again. Her body wasn't used to handling alcohol and she'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be hungover. This was not a fun reminder. 

"I'm a monster with principles," She muttered in response, her body hating her for being irresponsible. She only had nine days of winter break left and she was not excited about the prospect of spending one of them completely hungover. She actually had things she wanted to do that didn't include sleeping for four hours straight during daylight hours. 

They may have been suffering at the current moment, but however bad this own hushed tones filling up the morning silence may have seemed, it was nothing in comparison to the stabbing pain that came with Izuku crashing his way through the door of the apartment, luggage in hand, a bright, cheerful grin plastered on his freckled features. Momo nearly hit her head against the kitchen island and Shouto threw one of the decorative fake apples at his green-haired roommate, which he and his normally functioning reflexes dodged easily (really, they should've just gotten rid of those apples. Denki once took a bite out of one and didn't even realize it was fake until Izuku told him it was made of styrofoam). 

"Hi...guys," Izuku wondered aloud, his smile dropping into an expression of pure confusion as they both groaned at him to stop talking. "Did you guys have fun...?" Izuku lowered his voice to a much more pleasing but still slightly painful whisper as he crouched down to pick up the fake apple and return it to the bowl on the coffee table. 

This honestly wasn't what he was expecting to come home to. But when I say that, don't think I'm saying he was disappointed. It was actually quite sad becuase the freckled boy had been expecting something to be on fire at the very least. He wouldn't have even been surprised if Momo had done an impromptu move-out becuase she couldn't handle living with a fuckboy roommate. So honestly, two hungover college students seemed like a win to Izuku. 

"She took the fucking coffee," Shouto mumbled through the couch cushion. Izuku's eyebrows scrunched up in confusion at his words. Did she take the coffee? All of it? How? 

"He got stickers fused to my face." 

"She fell asleep on me."

"He kept making sex jokes." 

"She was getting mad at me for making sex jokes. It's my fucking personality." 

"I can get mad at you for asking me if a have a kink, Shouto." 

"It was a joke." He groaned out like they'd had this argument before. 

"It wasn't a good one. And you're not faultless. You almost did something illegal." Yeah, none of those statements cleared up any of what had happened over the last few days for Izuku. He had only been gone for three or four days. What the fuck happened? The green-eyed boy's brain tried to sort through all this information separately. Shouto making sex jokes sounded about like him, but she fell asleep on him? And what was with the stickers? Okay, and illegal?

"Okay, stop for a second," Izuku held up his hands even though neither of them could him. But they both complied with ease, just the act of arguing back and forth clearly taking it out of them. "First of all, Momo, to be fair, it is his personality. But Shouto, you should know better. Second, we're going to talk about the sticker thing and the coffee thing later. And third, Shouto did you do something illegal that I should know about." 

"Those glasses were twenty fucking cents," The dual-haired man mumbled in his own defense and Momo rolled her eyes behind her closed eyelids, mumbling, "Shoplifting is still shoplifting." Shouto would've retaliated, but he just didn't have the energy at the moment. 

"Did you steal something?!" Izuku rarely every freaked out, but he didn't have the money to bail his roommate out of jail, so he figured that this was a perfectly valid time to freak the fuck out. "Shouto, you can't do something illegal! We don't have the money to-"

"Chill out. I didn't fucking steal it. Peaches over here wouldn't let me." Izuku's labored breathing steadied as he nodded his head, inhaling a deep breath of relief. Thank god Momo was responsible. And they didn't get caught. Sometimes Izuku forgot that Momo was far more mature than any of the three roommates. It was something he greatly appreciated about his new roommate. Her ability to stay calm and handle all the stupid shit the three of them got into was a lifesaver a lot of the time. Although, there was one thing that caught Izuku off-guard. 

"Wait, you call her Peaches?"

"She called me a dickwad." 

"I called you Little-Miss-Dickwad. There's a difference," She responded tiredly, attempting to pull her head off the cool surface to the kitchen island and failing miserably at it thanks to the stabbing pain in her cranium. Izuku just shook his head, rubbing his eyes and scrubbing a hand over his face. "Besides, I only called you that once and yet you still call me the name of a fruit." 

"Your name means peaches. It's not that big of a stretch," Shouto yawned, flopping over onto his back and immediately regretting it as he recoiled from the sudden light streaming through the windows that momentarily blinded him. He groaned. He would roll back over, but he was too tired. Sometimes hangovers were a bitch. Well, not just sometimes. They were always a bitch. And no matter how many times Shouto experienced one, they never got any better. 

Izuku just sighed knowing he was going to have to take care of them on his first day back in the apartment. At least his time with his mom had been fun. They'd played video games (sometimes it shocked Izuku how a forty-seven-year-old woman could be so boss at Mario Kart, but hey, that's just how it was), they baked cookies, they watched movies. Spending time with his mom was always the best. What a disappointment coming home was. 

But then again, he knew he'd never trade his friends for anything, so it couldn't be that bad, right? Even the ever-grumpy Shouto was fun to be around and there was never a boring moment with Denki Kaminari living in the house. And with the new addition of Momo, it was like their little family in the apartment had finally been completed. So even though spending time with his mom was arguably more fun, he couldn't deny that he certainly felt at home in the apartment that was being held together by duct tape and wood glue with the people who were hellbent on driving him insane. 

So, with an almost content smile, Izuku traveled across the room, throwing the thin curtains open to let in some more light and causing Momo to groan and Shouto to throw another apple at his head. It was a repeat reaction of what had happened when he walked through the door. The only difference this time was that this piece of styrofoam fruit actually hit its mark. 

»—————————–✄ ~à suivre