bruh (._.)

37 4 3

by Mama1Inko1

by Mama1Inko1

Katsumi's POV

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Oh no! Mama and Dada are doing that loud-talking thing again. It's so, so loud! It makes my ears hurt, and it feels like the whole house is shaking like when a big, scary monster stomps around. I don't like it, so I put my hands on my ears, but the noise still gets in. It's like it's crawling into my head and making my heart go fast, like when I run and run and run. My tummy feels all wiggly like it's full of butterflies that don't know where to go.

Dada's face is all scrunchy, and it's red, so, so red, like the color of my crayon when I color a big apple. When Dada's face gets like that, it means he's super-duper mad, and that makes me scared. I don't like it when Dada is mad. It's because there was a man—a stranger man—in the bed with Mama, and Dada didn't like that at all. He keeps yelling big words, like "twist" and "betrayal," but I don't know what they mean. I just know they're bad words, words that make everything feel yucky and wrong.

The loud sounds are like big, scary monsters wrapping around me, squeezing me so tight that I can't breathe right. I want to run away, to find a quiet place where it's safe, but I'm stuck here, and I don't know what to do. Then I feel Zuzu's hand on mine, and it's warm and soft like my favorite blanket. He doesn't say anything, but just holding his hand makes it a little better. We go to my room, where all my crayons and paper are, and we sit on the floor. Usually, I like to draw happy things with bright colors and big, smiley faces, but today, all I can draw are squiggly lines and messy scribbles. The noise is too big, and it's like it's coming out of my crayons, making everything look all jumbled up.

Zuzu is sitting right next to me, just being quiet like he always is. He has lots of boo-boos and ouchies on his arms and legs, and they look really bad like they hurt a lot. There are dark purple and blue spots and little red lines where he got scratched. When I touch one of the ouchies, Zuzu flinches a little, like it hurts, but then he gives me a tiny smile. It's not a big, happy smile, but it's a soft one that makes me feel a little bit better, like maybe things will be okay. Zuzu's voice is always so quiet, like a tiny mouse or a robot that's all out of power. Sometimes, when I forget, I call him "Mama" by accident, and he does that small smile again. But then he shakes his head and says, "No, no, don't say that in front of the big people." I don't know why, but I try hard to remember.

Today, when Mama and Dada were yelling a lot, I asked Zuzu why Dada gets so, so angry all the time. I thought maybe Zuzu would know something that would make everything okay again, like magic. But Zuzu just looked at me with his sad eyes, the kind that makes my chest feel heavy like a big rock is sitting on it. He didn't answer right away. He rubbed his arms where the new bruises were, the scary, dark ones, and then he said, "Sometimes people get angry when they're hurt, Katsumi. But it's not your fault, okay?" His voice was soft, like when you whisper in the dark, but his words didn't make me feel better. It's really hard not to think it's my fault when Dada's mad because when he's mad, everything feels wrong like the whole world is upside down.

All I want is for Mama and Dada to stop yelling and be happy again like they used to be. I remember when we used to laugh together, and Dada would pick me up and spin me around and around until I got all dizzy and giggly. Mama would clap and smile so big, and it made my heart feel warm and shiny like the sun. But now, it feels like a long, long time ago, like it was just a dream, and now I'm awake, and everything is different. Now, everyone's always sad or angry, and the happy times feel far away like they're hiding and I can't find them.

But when I'm with Zuzu, even when the yelling is loud, I feel like maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay. Zuzu makes me feel safe, like he's a shield that keeps the bad things away, even if it's just for a little while. He's always there, with his quiet voice and gentle hands, and when I'm with him, I can almost pretend that the shouting doesn't matter.

But deep down, I know it does.

Izuku's POV

Whenever Mr. Bakugo and Ms. Uraraka erupt into one of their frequent, explosive arguments, Katsumi and I instinctively retreat to the safety of her room. It's become a ritual, almost like clockwork—the voices rising to a fever pitch, the sound of something breaking in the next room, and then our quiet withdrawal to this small haven where we can pretend, for just a moment, that we're far away from the chaos. Katsumi usually starts by grabbing her crayons, her little hands clutching them so tightly that her knuckles turn white. She draws with a kind of intensity that I recognize all too well—a desperate attempt to block out the noise, to create a world on paper where everything is bright colorful, and safe.

I sit beside her, trying to be a comforting presence even as my own heart feels heavy with the weight of everything wrong. There's a sinking feeling in my chest, a constant reminder of how helpless I am to change any of this. Katsumi's too young to understand the full scope of what's happening, but she's not blind to it either. She sees the bruises on my arms, the cuts on my skin, and she traces them with her tiny fingers as if her touch could somehow make them go away. There's a tenderness in the way she does it, a kind of innocence that breaks my heart because I know it won't last forever. She understands more than she should, even if she doesn't have the words to express it.

She calls me "Mama" sometimes, and every time she does, it sends a jolt of emotions through me—joy, fear, longing, all mixed up in a way that's hard to untangle. Joy because, strangely, I want that connection, I crave it. I want to be more to her than just someone who's there when things get bad. I want to be her protector, her comfort, her everything. But then there's the fear, cold and sharp because I know that if Ms. Uraraka or Mr. Bakugo ever overheard her calling me that, it would mean serious trouble. Katsumi's innocence shields her from the harsh reality of our situation, but I'm painfully aware of how fragile our little world is. One wrong word, one slip, and everything could come crashing down.

Sometimes, in the quiet moments when it's just the two of us, I let myself imagine what it would be like if things were different. I've fantasized more than once about being the mother of Mr. Bakugo's child, about what it would mean to have a family, even a broken one. In those dreams, we're not hiding, we're not scared. We're just a family, living a life that's ordinary and boring and safe. But I know those thoughts are dangerous, and I push them away as soon as they creep in. The reality we're in is nothing like those dreams. Mr. Bakugo's anger is a constant, unpredictable storm, and Ms. Uraraka's distance is a chasm that seems to grow wider every day. There's no room for fantasies in a world like this.

But despite everything, despite the shouting and the fear and the bruises, Katsumi and I have found something in each other—a bond that feels unbreakable, no matter how much the world around us crumbles. She looks at me with those big, trusting eyes, and in those moments, I feel like maybe I can protect her, like maybe I can be the person she needs me to be. And in those quiet moments, when it's just the two of us, I let myself believe, if only for a second, that maybe, just maybe, things could be different. Maybe there's a world out there where we're not just surviving, but living—where Katsumi doesn't have to draw to escape the noise, and where I don't have to pretend that everything's okay when it's not.

But for now, all we have is this—these stolen moments of peace in a world that's anything but. And as long as Katsumi needs me, I'll be here, doing my best to shield her from the storm.

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Thats it lol

1488 Words

Bye-bye, my children I must go now make sure to eat and drink and have at least a three-hour nap. Mama inko out!