DREAM ON | b.k.

Chapter Four

04.
Chapter Four : 365 letters

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"Hey..." Izuku whispers with a husky chuckle.

A shaky smile crawls it's way up onto Y/n's face when she sees Izuku so close. Tears start to fall from her eyes and slide down her face. "Hey." She sniffles.

"Come 'er." He mumbles, opening his arms for Y/n.

She practically throws herself into his arms and that's when the tears really started to fall. Harsh sobs rake through her body. She fists the material of Izuku's denim jacket in her tiny palms and pushes her face into his chest. Izuku puts his crutches in one hand so that he can properly hold Y/n. And as soon as his arms are secure around her shoulders, he lets his own tears fall.

Izuku didn't think he would be making it back to Mighty River after the war ended. He thought he'd die during the war and that his loved ones would receive the sad news of his death. He can't thank the lord enough for his survival. Thankfully his prayers worked, and whatever god was listening brought him home to his precious Y/n.

Izuku heaves a deep breath and places a kiss on the side of her head. "It's okay, I'm here now." He whispers, "You don't have to worry anymore..."

The walk back to Y/n's house takes longer than she thought it would thanks to the fact that Izuku is on crutches. They spend the time in silence, simply basking in each other's presence after so long.

Y/n's mother is waiting on the porch, an eager smile on her face. She looks like herself for once. For the first time in what feels like forever, she doesn't look like she just crawled out of bed. Her hair is done and she's wearing a nice dress. She's even wearing makeup.

Y/n slows to a stop between the two trees at the top of her driveway when she sees how happy her mother looks, and like magic, the tears start to drip down her face again.

Izuku's grip on her shoulders tightens when he begins to feel silent sobs rake through her body.

Her mother looks between Izuku and herself before she starts to look behind them, clearly in search of the love of her life. When she doesn't see them, her body falls to the floor and she screams. She screams louder than what should've been possible.

Y/n runs to her mother, leaving Izuku behind without another thought. She plops down beside her grieving mother and pulls her in close so that they can grieve together. Together they cry over the loss of a father and a husband, someone who won't be replaced easily. Or ever, for that matter.

Izuku watches from his spot in the driveway with his own tears staining his face. When Izuku didn't have a farther of his own, Mr. L/n stepped in and became the father figure he needed. For the last eight years, Mr. L/n was a man Izuku aspired to be. He was kind and he was smart. He was loved by everyone who met him. Mr. L/n was the type of man Izuku could only dream of being.

Somehow, Y/n manages to help her mother inside. It takes her a moment to get her situated in the parlor before she comes back out for Izuku. It wasn't like he was completely useless on his legs, but it took twice as much energy to go anywhere without anyone's help.

Teary-eyed, Y/n and Izuku safely cross the driveway and make it safely inside the house. Once they're through the threshold, Y/n helps remove Izuku's boots and she sets his crutches by the door. Y/n leaves Izuku in the parlor with her mother while she goes to the kitchen to get dinner.

She welcomes the distraction with open arms.

She sets out three full bowls on a tray alongside a plate of homemade biscuits. Before anything else, she makes sure there are enough napkins and spoons on the tray. With a deep breath, she picks it up and takes into the living room. Usually she wouldn't even think about eating a meal in the parlor, but none of them are in the mood to do anymore moving around. She'll eat dinner in the parlor just this once.

Y/n sets down each bowl with a napkin and a spoon, and then the plate of biscuits goes in the middle of the coffee table. "Thank you." Izuku mutters from his place in her father's arm chair. Y/n nods and utters a small "you're welcome" before sitting down herself.

The three eat in silence, occasionally sniffling to stop their noses from running. When the sound of spoons clanking against fine chine stops, Y/n stands up to take the dirty dishes into the kitchen. "Does anyone want seconds?" She asks, her voice low and scratchy from all of the crying she's been doing recently.

"Could I have another bowl?" Izuku asks.

Y/n nods, "Of course."

The rest of the evening carries on with very little conversation. After dinner, Y/n's mother went up to bed, leaving Y/n to the dishes and any other household chores. She did the dishes, locked up the chickens, and tidied up the parlor before helping Izuku to bed.

He would be staying in the downstairs guest bedroom until he was well enough to go back to his own place.

A few hours later and Y/n is finally settled into her own bed, tucked beneath the covers and ready to drift off to sleep. However tired she may be though, Y/n couldn't find it in herself to fall asleep. Not with thoughts of her father running through her mind.

How did he die? When did he die? Was he killed by the enemy? Y/n thinks. Question after question plague her mind, stopping her from peacefully succumbing to sleep. Why didn't he write us? He was gone for two years and didn't write us once... He must've known how devastated mom was. And yet... There wasn't one letter.

Y/n looks to her desk where a stack of unsent letters sit in the corner. After a year of sending letters to her father and getting nothing back, she stopped sending them. While she stopped sending the letters, that doesn't mean that she stopped writing them.

She wrote to her father at the end of everyday. Every letter consisted of a detailed account of each day she lived. Some letters were three pages long whereas others weren't even a page long. There were at least 365 letters issued to her father, but he would never read them though.

Y/n's eyes start to tear up. The more she thinks about the letters and her dad, the more she realizes that her dad won't get to see her grow up. He won't get to meet her future husband. He won't get to see her walk down the isle. He won't get to meet his grandkids...

Soon, she's crying into her pillow, trapped in her mind—forced to think of a future without her father. It's hard to think about, but it's all she can think about. It's all she can think about until she passes out, leaving her pillow case soaked with her tears and her face all puffy.