Retribution

In The Note (Chapter 2)

"Momma, I'm home!" I announce to our apartment.

Yes, I know the whole 'Momma' thing is a little immature, and I do call her mom sometimes, but it sounds kinda weird to me. She's never complained about it before, so it just stuck.

While taking my shoes off at the door, I fling my bookbag onto the cabinet beside the steps. I see a handful of mail and I'm tempted to look through it, but I stop myself.

"I'm in the kitchen, Izuku!" she replies from across the small space.

"I'm going to take a shower real quick, momma," I say as I walk into my room.

I jump into the shower once it gets hot, quickly washing the sugar out of my hair and off my skin. When I get out, I throw the soda-soaked uniform in the dirty hamper, then head to the kitchen.

"I switched shifts with Kenama-San, because of her nephew being in town next week, so I didn't have to go into the hotel today," she explains. I was about to ask, but she beat me to it.

I smile at her, her back still facing me. "That's nice, now I don't have to help with supper," I joke.

She turns to look at me with a hand on her hip. She's smiling as well, the laugh lines around her forest green eyes crinkling. "Don't act like that, you almost never start supper anyway," she starts lecturing me playfully and points her spatula at me. "And I get home only an hour and a half after you get back from school so you never have to cook by yourself."

I start laughing and Mom chuckles. "Yeah, you're right," I apologize.

Mom's smile falls slightly as it no longer reaches her eyes. She turns back to the stove. "So, Itosuki-Kun called earlier," she mentions without much meaning in her voice.

"O-oh, he uh did?" I ask as another wave of guilt hits me. Did Rin not have baseball practice today? He usually turns his phone off.

And of course the day my phone broke. Why does life hate me?

"Yes, he did," Mom continues. "He said you weren't answering your phone. I was starting to panic before you walked in."

She turns around to face me with a small, forgiving smile.

"Why don't you go call him before you worry him even more? You can use the landline," she offers, somehow knowing about the issue with my phone before I could even form the thought.

Weird... I think when she turns her back again. How does she do that...?

I walk over to the small landline in the hallway. As I dial in the familiar numbers, I think about what Rin thought when he couldn't find me. Did he panic, or was he simply confused? Mom said he was worried, but was it shown in his voice, in the way it goes down a pitch? Did he bite his top lip and rub his knuckles when he realized I wasn't at home?

Despite the guilty feeling in my stomach, I can't help but find solace in the sheer fact that I could worry someone like that. A new, dangerous feeling arises from this comfort: the craving to feel treasured like this again.

The line connects with a click, dissipating the bubbling feeling.

I try to keep my apology short, but in typical Rin style, his voice makes me want to talk for far longer. We change subjects multiple times, easing into each new topic. We laugh and whisper about the going-ons in our separate classrooms. He tells me about his "grand" idea for his parent's anniversary coming up in a couple of weeks, and I talk about the newest addition to my hero analysis notebook.

As he explains what he thought of this new anime, I think about how odd this is. I saw Rin just four hours ago and I will see him again tomorrow, but we talk like we will never meet after tonight.