Work Text:
Bakugou’s relationship with his mother had never been great. Sometimes, he could only be in the same room with her while they were both working on one project or another. Sometimes, they fought. Well, most times they fought. Some arguments were over small things. Don’t talk to me that way. Take out the trash. Stop being mean to the other kids at school. Don’t talk to me like I’m a child. That kind of thing.
Sometimes they were big arguments. You never understood me. You're a terrible mother. You’re an ungrateful child. You always think the worst of me.
And sometimes, your mother calls you weak in front of your role model for being kidnapped. Sometimes, you’ve been home for less than a week and the two of you are already back at each other’s throats so badly your father starts crying. Sometimes you can’t be in the same room as each other without someone screaming, crying, or both.
At one point, you agree that family therapy might not be the worst idea in the world. Bakugou wanted things to be better for his father’s sake. As much as he couldn’t forgive him for standing by while he and his mother screamed at each other, he still loved his father. Mitsuki loved him, too. So, when the therapist suggested both Katsuki and Mitsuki start anger management courses, they agreed.
Progress was slow. Fights would start. They’d try to communicate productively. They’d try to breathe deeply. It wouldn’t work.
Eventually, though, they got to a point where they could look each other in the eye and say “You’re hurting me, please stop,” and the other would back off. No issues were resolved, but no arguments broke out either.
They stayed in family therapy and eventually, Bakugou decided to go on his own as well. Mitsuki soon followed suit. After two years of walking on eggshells around each other, the fights turned into conversations.
Sometimes, your mom tells you she was terrified of being a mother, that she knew she’d be a terrible one. Sometimes you tell your mom that you have a crushing fear of failure, that it’s so bad it keeps you up at night. Sometimes, your mom tells you that she knows she’s said some terrible things to you. Sometimes, you tell your mom you know.
Sometimes, she apologizes.
Sometimes, you forgive her.
By the time Bakugou was twenty, he and his mother could be in the same room without screaming at each other. By twenty-one, he was comfortable enough to let his mother hug him again. By twenty-two, he was leaving for America to work as a hero in New York and he thought he might even miss her.
The space seemed to be exactly what they needed. There was less pressure, somehow. Like a too-tight bandage was taken off and replaced. Bakugou called every week, at the recommendation of both his therapist and his father. He found he could talk to his mother about more normal things. They still fought, but there was less rage behind each word. They could make up now and admit when they were wrong.
Sometimes, you look back on your childhood and you almost cry. Sometimes, your mom does, too. Sometimes, she still apologizes for everything she put you through. These days, you can find the strength to forgive her. What she did was never okay, but you both know that. And you can move past it.
Today, you’re getting off a plane and coming home. Five years was a long time. You think you might be excited to see her. She thinks she might be excited to see you, too.