M u t e L o v e // KiriBaku

• A Clearer Air for A Clearer Mind •

        "Katsuki's here!?"

        The voice is lively, lifted up from the eagerness a mother holds when her child comes into view. He picks up from the quick patter of feet since they leave that room on the far left of their home upstairs but pays no mind to them as they descend the stairs.

"Where's Eijiro, he didn't come with you?" She had almost sounded disappointed upon asking.

His posture sulks even when he raises up from tucking his shoes off to the side of the hallway. With hands buried deep inside wool pockets, his fingers entertained by the lint inside their very bottoms, he clicks his tongue and shoots his chin up high with a softer scowl. "The fuck should I know?" He grumbles as a response, even if the true answer dances freely at the tip of his imprisoned tongue: "he thinks I'm here to get something I left behind really quickly when really, I went behind his back to make our lives simpler in the future by getting some important things clear and certain."

He invites himself in and makes a beeline towards the kitchen, passing his father and those half-opened arms that reluctantly offered an embrace. His visit is highly unexpected, yet massively welcome by the couple. Time has since felt limited ever since their little boy had flown away from their nest, growing wings and a heart of steel and taking flight toward his dreams. Their walls weep in silence at night and nurture the arms of two lonely parents who pray for their son's wellbeing hourly.

"You finally here to spend some time with your old folds before you get famous?" The woman teases over a glass of juice being poured halfway.
"Hell no."

"Well, then did you leave something behind?" His father then benignantly asks, as his body leans against the white counter of their kitchen.

"Guess you could say that." He huffs out. The glass is washed and set aside, but the stern look solidifying his eyes never wavers. It's almost lethargic, but the eyes his mother sees herself in surely find their way towards her and her husband for the first time ever since he had arrived. "I shouldn't have left without talking about something with you two." He states. His arms cross securely across his chest and his posture, downright impeccable as that of an army criminal, keeps his parents' curiosity at bay.

Without much else slotted into the conversation, the teenager takes note of his mother's smile. It's hinted towards being off, almost uncanny-valley next to the countless memories kept of how his mother has always looked at him throughout his childhood. It's new, like no type of joy he has seen on her face– as if she had dipped her face open-eyed into a puddle of youth, and with the water that trickled down her cheeks went her years of worn irritability and scowls towards him and the rest of the world.

"Well, color me damn surprised," Mrs. Bakugo whistles, her eyes colorful with an obvious taunt. "That's gotta be the first time you've wanted to willingly talk to us–"

"And believe me, this would never fucking happen if it were up to just me." He spits through her cut-short sentence. "Everything I fucking do is like an opportunity for you to try and make me feel like shit about never doing it!"

Alas, Bakugo's theory unfolds before him. That oddly chirpy, motherly smile takes a hit, only to fix itself back up at a moment too late for him to not have noticed. "I don't make a big deal outta nothing!" She quips in response. "You're the damn bomb in here that's too quick to make assumptions about everyone!"

"Well God-fucking-Jee, I wonder where I got that from!" He snarls back. His body jolts up to cut their proximity until an arm stretches between them, cutting any more time from being put into ruining their good day.

"Guys, please..." a solemn plead sinks in. "Can we not fight? Let's enjoy the fact that Katsuki's actually here..."

Their stances lessen, earning a rather shaky sigh from Mr. Bakugo. His eyes switch between the two countless times, each time taking in a new side to their stance; anger, then annoyance, then realization, then mild defeat or carelessness.