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Hitoshi sneezed in the cold as he walked home.
The sky was a dark indigo, lit up by colorful lights that reflected off the ice and falling snowflakes like millions of little stars. The walk through the suburbs chilled his nerves, made the anticipation that dwelled just a little cooler. This was his first visit home since the dorm system had been implemented at UA. First time seeing his parents since then, too.
It wasn’t as if they called or really checked in. Every once in a while he’d receive blandly worded texts from his mom reminding him to air out his futon or clean his socks. Yeah, …every once in a while.
Just to say… there was a reason he never talked about his parents to his classmates. There just wasn’t all that much to talk about. Not holiday stories, not vacation stories, not even stories about playing catch with his dad. Hitoshi never played catch with his dad.
He could be grateful for his mom. To some extent. When his quirk developed, his mom taught him sign language. She didn’t really tell him why she taught him sign language. He figured it had something to do with learning to control his quirk- and it definitely helped.
His mom never talked much. Hell, really, he didn’t know the sound of her voice. He knew the sound of her singing, from when she sang him to sleep as a child using her quirk, Siren’s Song. It lowers inhibitions.
As for his father? Well, there wasn’t much to say there, either. Was nothing to write home about- ha, especially considering who would be receiving that letter.
Honestly speaking, Hitoshi wasn’t all that excited to see his parents for Christmas. Maybe it was better than his class’ dorm party since Aizawa-Sensei wasn’t able to pull the strings to let him join class 1-A in their dorm, but that didn’t mean he was looking forward to this anymore. It was the lesser of two evils. Doesn’t suddenly mean it’s good.
Hitoshi stopped at his front door. Well, no point in knocking. Just turn the handle, and go inside.
And so he did.
He could hear his father pacing around the kitchen, yelling at his phone. There was Christmas music playing from Buddha knows where. Haruka, his mother, was sitting on the couch staring off into space. He signed ‘Hi Mom’ to her. She turned to look at him, her hair was oily and unwashed; the straight murky brown strands had a diesel-like diluted rainbow sheen to them and pooled around her shoulders. She was a slight, lithe woman with down-turned eyes. The tired purple color of them bore heavily into his own matching set.
She attempted to give him a weak smile, but really it was more of a grimace. He signed to her ‘How are you?’ But she shook her head. This was more of a response than he was used to getting, anyhow, so today must be a good day for her. Haruka eventually signed ‘School?’ So he replied ‘Good’ and she nodded, content with that answer.
As if on cue, his father, Kyousuke, came out of the kitchen. He had his phone neatly tucked under his armpit with his arms crossed. His father has harsh, angular shady glade green eyes; his hair is purple and unruly, so he keeps it incredibly short. He cut a very imposing figure, much different from his mother’s- reclusive and meek. If you asked him, he honestly had no idea how those two met- let alone how they got married.
“Look who decided to finally show up. Why didn’t you say anything when you came in, Hitoshi?” The man asked, voice commanding but still as jovial as it could possibly get.
He tried to keep the exasperated expression from his face, signing ‘Gee, I wonder’ which got a quiet huff from his mother. That was as close to a laugh as she ever gave, so he considered that a win. His father scowled.
“Sign language. Stop it,” He said. And there he goes using his quirk, Hitoshi thought angrily. His quirk was called Forceful Guidance, which was a pretty apt name. He could state another person’s action and then put his own input; he could make them slow down, speed up, or halt the action altogether. It doesn’t last very long, but Hitoshi would like to not lose sign language as an option so he’ll keep his hands to himself.
With a defeated sigh, he went to the kitchen. He was unsurprised to see KFC and takeout cream stew as their Christmas feast. Yup, warm and fuzzy feelings. Though it did look like his mom made an attempt at making wagashi, that’s nice, at least. They sat down around the table silently, not making conversation or eye contact, not asking about each other’s lives. There was nothing to ask when you didn’t much care for the answer.
They each piled food onto their plates. Haruka stared at her food, not picking up her chopsticks, as if she was willing it to float into her mouth by sheer force of will. She looked like she wanted to sink through her chair into the floor, which wasn’t an unfamiliar expression on her face. Kyousuke ate like normal, fast but not sloppy- with manners, he’d say. Hitoshi himself picked at his plate, lacking in an appetite. He felt his stomach twist at just the thought of eating food, so he simply didn’t eat.
When he finally put something in his mouth, he decided the chicken was rather flavorless. ‘Pass the salt?’ He signed toward his mother; only noticing his mistake a second too late. She reached for the salt just as his father placed his chopsticks down on the table just hard enough to startle the both of them. He tensed in preparation for the berating that was to come. No sign language in front of Dad, how did you forget that? He’d gotten so used to the comfort of school that some of his habits for self-preservation at home had dulled.
“What did I tell you? No-” What would have been a lecture was cut off by the sound of the phone ringing. He barely let himself slump in relief when his father stood to answer the phone. Distantly he heard the sound of him yelling. Business call on Christmas Eve. How merry.
Hitoshi hunched over, practically mirroring his mother. He worked the muscles in his jaw so he didn’t scream in frustration; he clenched and unclenched his hands because he really wanted to hit something. He froze briefly when his phone went off with a notification.
Denks
Toshi!
babe, how’s ur dinner goin?
Read 19:34
He stared blankly at his phone, listening to the mix of Christmas music- sounded like Deck the Halls- and yelling in the background before he typed out his response. Denki replied immediately.
Toshi
Bad.
Read 19:35
Denks
Oh, jeez
You used punctuation
OK, this is serious
What’s up?
Read 19:35
Toshi
Family stuff
Read 19:36
Denks
You wanna talk about it?
Read 19:36
Toshi
No.
Read 19:36
Denks
Anything I can do?
Read 19:36
He was about to type out a response when movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. His mother was shifting in her chair, giving him unrelenting eye contact. ‘Friend?’ She signed. Hitoshi nodded reluctantly and she broke eye contact, nodding to herself while staring off into the distance, her lips pressed into a thin line. He stared at her shortly and she eventually turned back to him, ‘Good friend?’ She reiterated.
‘Yes. Very good friend.’ He signed back; his mother didn’t need to know that friend was an understatement. Try boyfriend on for size. She looked down at her lap. He went to check his texts.
Denks
Toshi?
Babe, I can’t help if you don’t tell me how
You’re worrying me
Read 19:40
His mom sniffed quietly and he looked back at her. She nodded half-heartedly towards where his father went off to, then to his phone, signing, ‘Go. He won’t follow.’ And, well, there was really no question of who He was supposed to be.
Toshi
Actually
Uh
Can I come over?
If it’s not too much to ask
Don’t want to intrude or anything
Sorry
Read 19:43
Denks
Dude, are you kidding me?
Of course you can come overI can keep my family away, too
If you want
Read 19:44
Toshi
Yeah, uh, thanks
That would mean a lot
Read 19:44
Denks
OK, cool, ofc
I gotchu
Here’s the address
[attachment]
Just text me when you’re here
Read 19:45
He looked up at his mother and she smiled at him. It was so tiny he barely noticed it. ‘Thank you,’ he signed, pausing before adding ‘I love you.’
Hitoshi grabbed his coat, fingered on his shoes without stopping to sit down, shoved his phone in his pocket, and was out the door before- before what? Before his dad noticed? Before his mom changed her mind? He didn’t know, but he rushed out anyhow.
His phone vibrated in his pocket as he left. He pulled it out, expecting hoping for another text from Denki, but the notification that greeted him was unexpected.
He stopped walking, blankly staring at the notification on his phone. That… was a first. As far as he could remember, anyway. Hitoshi felt himself getting emotional; he scrunched his face up to keep from crying. Well, today must be a really good day for her. Made it a pretty good day for him, too; all things considered.
Realizing he was stopped in the middle of the street making funny faces at his phone, he started walking fast again. Eventually, he found himself at the door of a middle-class household. He didn’t knock. Instead, he texted Denki.
Toshi
I’m at the door.
Read 20:03
Denks
I’ll be right down!
My family wants to meet you
Yay or nay?
Read 20:03
Toshi
Nay
Read 20:04
Denks
Alrighty
They will be leaving you alone <3
Read 20:06
Suddenly the door in front of him opened, and there stood Denki. He was wearing an ugly Christmas sweater with Pikachu dressed as Santa on it and he looked like everything Hitoshi needed right now. The blonde leaned against the door frame, a smile bright enough to rival the sun on his face.
“Hey, Toshi! Sorry for the wait, my family is stubborn,” He paused, then suddenly straightened his back, “Oh, yeah, dude, come inside. Don’t wanna leave you out in the cold!” He scurried to the side, gesturing to the interior of the house. It had a warm glow. True to his word, he could hear Denki’s family in the background; however, they were not visible and were leaving him alone.
Hitoshi already felt lighter in his boyfriend’s presence, signing ‘Oh, your family is stubborn? I never could have guessed.’
The blonde let out a startled laugh, “Yeah, okay, I walked right into that one,” He pointed to the genkan, “Just leave your shoes there, and those,” He moved his hand to a pair of slippers, “Are the house guest slippers.”
He nodded, toeing off his shoes and neatly placing them on the far side; he slipped his socked feet into the house slippers and turned to Denki.
Denki scratched the back of his head before he perked up again, “Oh, wait- is today a talking day or a signing day? I’m still learning but I’ll try my best if it’s the latter.”
‘You can talk, it’s fine,’ He signed, ‘I probably won’t, though.’
“Okay, okay, good to know,” The blonde put his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and rocked back on his heels briefly, “Alright, uh, come upstairs to my room… but like, not in a sexy way,” He chuckled awkwardly.
Hitoshi snorted, ‘You couldn’t be sexy if you tried,’ He signed.
His boyfriend gasped in mock offense, a hand on his chest, “Wow, okay, not true! Rude. I see how it is! You only tell lies and slander!”
He laughed, and some of the weight on his shoulders lifted. Being able to joke freely and use sign language made everything so much easier, ‘Are you showing me your unsexy room or not, Sparky?’
With a roll of his eyes, he signaled for Hitoshi to follow him but he paused halfway up the stairs, turning to him with an inquisitive expression, “Is today an okay-touch day or a no-touch day?”
He had a swell of affection rising in his throat at the consideration given to simple permissions like this. It was so easy to appreciate things he wasn’t used to having; so despite all of Denki’s shortcomings, he knew he made the right choice being here. Instead of saying something, he just reached out and took the blonde’s hand.
He smiled and continued leading the way up the stairs, humming a holiday song. When they reached his room, which was Pikachu-themed (to no surprise of Hitoshi’s own), Denki started rummaging through a box under his bed with specific instructions to him not to peek. So instead he looked around, seeing several pictures of him with Denki or all of Denki’s friends pinned to the wall. This surprised him, considering he assumed this stuff would be in Denki’s dorm room, not his personal room.
His question was soon answered with a note he found pinned to the side, not in Denki’s handwriting, that read, ‘I loved these pictures you’ve been sending me, Denki, so I printed them out for you to have in your room when you visit. -Love, Mom. PS Your boyfriend is cute!’
There was another unbidden warmth that went through him knowing that Denki talked to his family about Hitoshi and actually let them know they were dating. It was more than he could ever tell his own parents, but somehow it felt like enough for the both of them, anyway.
“Huzzah!” The blonde exclaimed suddenly, startling him out of his thoughts, holding a floppy semi-rectangular object in the air. It was wrapped in, you guessed it, Christmas Pikachu wrapping paper. Hitoshi looked over at him, the boy in question biting his lip and squirming in place, “Okay, ‘Toshi, come sit.”
Plopping down at the side of the bed, he enthusiastically patted the spot next to him until Hitoshi curled into his side. Denki grinned, setting the aforementioned object in his lap wordlessly. Belatedly realizing this was a Christmas gift, he signed, ‘But I didn’t get you anything.’
“Pfft, that’s fine, ‘Toshi,” He shrugged, still grinning, “You being here with me is all I wanted for Christmas.”
He knew he was probably staring, wide-eyed, but his internal monologue was screaming, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t fucking cry, PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER. He delicately picked up the gift from his lap, staring at it. Denki leaned into his side, resting his head on Hitoshi’s shoulder and closing his eyes. He liked how Denki never placed expectations on him, just like now; there was no expectation for a reaction or for him to even say anything. Just comfort in the other’s presence, as if that was truly the gift Denki wanted.
Hitoshi made a show of shaking the gift despite how it was not in a box, whatever it was. It was likely fabric, but he could never be too certain. No sound was made when he shook the object, only the crinkling of the paper bending when whatever was inside flopped back and forth.
He didn’t know what he was expecting when he opened it, delicately peeling back the paper to not tear the Pikachu faces, but this certainly wasn’t it. Inside was a black t-shirt that read in comic sans, ‘Learn sign language, it’ll come in handy’. He let out a surprised bark of laughter, startling the blonde burrowed into his side. Hitoshi leaned forward, shaking with his mirth at such a simple gift that meant so much more to him than it had any right to.
Denki leaned up, beaming at him like the sun, “You like it?”
All this did was get another wave of laughter out of him. He laughed until his ribs ached, until he felt tears prick the corners of his eyes, and until he was heaving out of breath. The blonde made a point to frown at his continued laughter, but his eyes were smiling. For the first time that night, Hitoshi spoke of his own free will.
“You are such a dork!” He gasped, smiling at the other.
The dork in question just smiled wider, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek, “Maybe so, but I’m your dork.”
Hitoshi curled into Denki, putting both arms around his shoulders; pressing his face into golden hair, and entangling their legs. The blonde in turn wrapped his arms around his torso, fitting his head into the crook of his neck. The warm breath against his skin made any remaining tension he may have had ebb away into nothingness, “Merry Christmas, ‘Toshi. I hope I was able to salvage it,” His voice was muffled, but the vibrations felt made him shiver.
“You were,” He whispered back, closing his eyes, “Thank you for being yourself, Denki. I needed it.”
He could feel a smile curl on the other’s face where it was pressed into his neck, “I love you.”
“I love you, too. Merry Christmas.”