If I Had One Wish

Chapter Fifty Seven

Chapter Fifty Seven - Fathers 

Really thought I was done with the hardest part.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When she had first opened the door to the large house she had been living in since her twenties, having raised a productive healthy family in its walls, she hadn't expected to see her son. If anything she was leaving the house, keys in hand, to get him from the school in a blaze of protective vengeance but now they both seemed to pause, eyes reflecting in each other's similarities. Though she had a million things running through her head, a million things she wished to say, she merely landed on a blunt sentence.

"What did you do?" She hadn't meant it in a harsh way but it was all her mouth could wrap around as she stood before him in absolute distraught anger. The mother in her, the one who grew protective over him at any sight of wrongdoing to her little spawn of a son, was screaming in her heart to kill someone, anyone, to make him happier. Was screaming to fix whatever happened on the news that forced his past, which she knew he hated and kept secret, out into the open. But her emotional capacity, her ability to word these emotions to him, fell short much the way her sons did when faced with such feelings.

Katsuki's eyes were clearly holding back anger of his own as he whispered. "I took temporary leave from school."

Masaru was quick to the door, catching himself on the frame with wide eyes. His whisper was all it took for the only child of the household to stumble into the house, into their arms. "Katsuki."

Katsuki trembled, letting his fathers comforting and nostalgic presence engulf him in his arms, the heady scent of his cologne delving deep into his knit sweater which Bakugou buried his face into while Mitsuki closed the door. She brought a hand to his back, rubbing up and down in slow, steady motions, the defined muscles of her nineteen year older boy, so young but so strong. "We'll take care of this."

At their matter-of-fact tone Katsuki had no more anger left in him, collapsing on the floor of the foyer on his knees. His father sank with him to brace the fall, his parents kneeling with two pairs of arms around him. And he sobbed. He cried as if his entire strong oak of a being was being welled and soaked up rain for this very moment to break free. His breath hitched, hiccuped and broke as comforting motions and words from the two constants in his life tried to ease him in front of the door to the household amongst the shoes and locked entrance.

Masaru had Katsuki's head on his shoulder, soothing his mess of hair and whispering. "I'm so sorry."

"I hate it." Katsuki cried. "I fucking hate it, I hate it so much. I hate it."

Over and over again, like a broken record he let out variations of that sentence. Neither of them knew but they understood in their bones what he meant. Katsuki seemed to resort to nothing but the feelings he felt the minute he heard the annoying trill of the news, that annoyance, anger, shame, disgust, all coming to the surface now that he was somewhere he could break down.

Their house was warm, the scent and lights a familiar setting of the previous shed tears and shouting voices from the kitchen and it creaked at night in a way that was achingly familiar. The way portraits slanted, carpets bunched and scars on the walls and wooden floorboards in the halls and on the stairs, were all familiar. All held a memory, good and bad. This house was truly, genuinely home to him.

But why did he feel so cold? Why couldn't he stop crying? His entire being seemed to question as he fell apart, being held together by his tiny tight-knit family. Truly his mothers arms were keeping him connected as his father held up the other half of his being. Truly they made him whole. But he felt almost hollow nonetheless in his emotional state.

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Dinner was lively that night, his mother livid with boiling, bubbling anger, steaming like the soup simmering on the oven beside them in the kitchen. Her layered emotions melded together like the noodles and beef did with the broth. The scent of cooking warmed Katsuki, smelling the salt mixing with the spices, feeling the heat of the brew.

His head lay upon his knees, feet up upon the chair seated at the dinner table. His expression had remained hidden and stoic after the three had calmed down from him crying at the entrance, cheek squished upon his knee and eyes half-closed but focused; slightly pink, as was his nose which occasionally sniffed. Masaru had been watching him for awhile, curious and wanting to speak upon multiple things but not knowing if it was the right time. Katsuki was peculiar with how he reacted to common care, much like his mother, so the father of this household had to ease his way between the two fiery blondes. 

"Old man, you're doing it again." Katsuki whispered at some point throughout his mothers ranting, lifting his head to look at him from across the table with a hoarse voice of recovery.

The man took off his glasses, cleaning them as an excuse not to meet his son's piercing red gaze that could burn like a laser. "Sorry."

"It's fine, I'm just-" His eyes were unyielding, staying on this brunette. "Wondering why you're looking at me like that."

Masaru smiled slightly, shaking his head as he put his glasses on, resting his chin in his hands, arms propped upon the table. "Despite everything going on, you're calmer. I figured you'd be like your mother, cursing at the world."

Mitsuki laughed from the kitchen at his words as the boy replied. "I'm just tired, that's all."

"It's more than that, son, you're calmer in general. I wanted to bring it up when you were telling us about your partner." Masaru smiled. "I'm proud of how far you've come and I'm sorry it took me until now, with all this sadness, to say so."

The tops of Katsuki's ears burned in embarrassment, darting his gaze away. That, those words, the word proud was a rarity in this house in which he felt like he had to be the best to succeed. He felt his heart surge and prickling in his vision. The weight that word held was astronomical and suddenly he was hit by the realization of why it meant so much.

He buried his face into his legs, his father laughing at his flustered reaction. He changed the subject to save himself, hands balling into the fabric of his pants. "About De-Izuku." He didn't need a filter here but even he struggled with the switching of names sometimes. "He'll be coming over soon, to drop off homework and shit."

"Something tells me you didn't inform him of your plan B?" Mitsuki mused, setting the table, Masaru shooting up to help her get bowls and utensils.

"He understands." Katsuki murmured against the fabric over his knees, closing his eyes. "I can't be there, not after what happened. Plus, I want to be here when we get shit ready for the court date and-"

"And you can't handle everyone bombarding you at once, so you're hiding away where only certain people can find you?" Mitsuki broke off his tangent. "You know, your lover boy will be here sooner than you'd think. He's like Inko, the minute something hurts the object of his affection he snaps. That woman would kill for her son, like most mothers, and Izuku would kill for you."

"Bit dramatic, the shit nerd can't even kill a spider." Katsuki mumbled, easing the mood as that earned two quiet laughs. "And he's not my... fucking 'lover boy', hag."

"Don't make me play Freddie Mercury." Mitsuki pointed her chopsticks at him, clicking them together with a grin. "Cause I will, that boy's your good old fashioned lover boy."

Katsuki's face kept up the flustered burn, eyes widening and brows quivering in surprise and pure embarrassment. "Mom!"

Masaru chuckled, taking his portion of the meal as the two bantared. And, if Katsuki wasn't distracted, he'd have noticed that he donned this contemplative look. One that showed the depth of his thoughts along with his loving, caring gaze for his family. He was plotting something, much like Izuku would, though minus the muttering. He was more than just the equalizer between the two hot headed, tough loving blondes. He was the backbone and simultaneously the cushion of an already ridgid family. He was more than what met the eye.

He was Katsuki Bakugou's father. And that meant the world.