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It was late when the doorbell rang.
Mitsuki paused with pinning fabric to the mannequin, looking over at her husband who had been reading while she was designing. Masaru looked equally as confused as she was, though, so neither of them expected anyone to come over at eleven in the evening.
A spike of fear traveled through her body as they moved to the door. There was only a handful of reasons why anyone would bother them at this time, and none of them meant good news.
She checked her phone. No missed call or no news of some big fight. She breathed out a low sigh, feeling a lot calmer already.
Only for the feeling to completely disappear when Masaru opened the door and they came face to face with their son.
Mitsuki had seen her son’s dead body on national television. She had seen the big, gaping wound in the middle of his chest, the blood on his lips, the unseeing look painted on his face.
And yet she had never seen Katsuki as distressed as now. With trembling body and tears in his empty eyes.
“He said no.”
And then he was falling, knees giving up. Both Masaru and Mitsuki hurried up to hold him up, almost giving under the weight of a pro-hero. Katsuki threw his hands around them, burying his head in between their shoulders, sobbing right there in the doorway.
Mitsuki exchanged a shocked, helpless look with her husband, at loss of words.
She wasn’t sure how long they stood there, unable to do anything but hold him. Minutes felt like hours, and her heart broke more and more with each shed tears and every sob that he had tried to quiet down.
The sobs died down, eventually. The desperate grip he had on them loosened as Katsuki straightened up, letting his hands fall by his sides. He kept his gaze on the floor, his hair hiding his eyes and still falling tears.
Masaru navigated him inside while Mitsuki finally closed the door, quickly checking that there was no one watching. The street was dark and empty, the only difference from any other night being Katsuki’s car.
She pursed her lips, the thought that he drove here in this state paining her.
Mitsuki returned back to the living room, finding her boys sitting on the couch. Masaru had one hand on Katsuki’s back, Katsuki’s body half lying on his father’s side. She joined them without hesitation, wrapping her arms around her son’s waist. They shifted, Katsuki burying his head in the crook of her neck, Masaru shielding them both at Katsuki’s back.
Mitsuki was never good at dealing with emotions. She wasn’t good with words or comforting gestures. Never has been; it was something Katsuki got from her. She never regretted being herself, she knew that the people that mattered always knew what she meant, but oh how she wished she could do something, anything to stop her son from hurting.
But she knew her son. She knew that she couldn’t push him into talking, that he had to come to them on his own. That asking would make him shut down even more.
For their family, actions always spoke louder than words. So she and her husband said with their son in silence, offering safety and comfort as he cried, the silence scaring them more than any yelling.
It took an hour for his body to stop trembling, for his breath to even out slightly. This time, though, Katsuki didn’t try to recoil when he spoke up.
“I asked him to join my agency.”
They didn’t need to ask who he was talking about. There was only one person Katsuki wanted to lead the agency with.
Katsuki’s voice was low, raspy due to all the crying but oh so soft and broken. “He didn’t even – didn’t even hesitate.”
As he was talking, Mitsuki tightened the grip she had on him, feeling Masaru do the same. She exchanged a sorrowful look with her husband, not daring to speak up yet. She didn’t want to deter him. Not when he came to them for help.
“He went after Cheeks,” he continued, voice getting shaky again. “He – they’re –”
“Oh Kats,” Masaru whispered, blinking away his own tears. “I’m so sorry, son.”
Finally, he looked up. His red eyes were glinting, his quirk igniting one last spark deeply within his soul. The look on his face was crushed, despair and helplessness and love and self hatred creating a heartbreaking mix.
For someone so young, he looked so incredibly tired.
“What did I do wrong?” he asked them, desperately searching for an answer. “He said – he forgave me. We were supposed to – he promised… We were supposed to be heroes together. For the rest of our lives. We wanted – he said – I thought – what did I do wrong?” Katsuki screamed, voice raw, clutching his hands to his chest.
Mitsuki had already lost him once, and it looked like she was about to lose him again.
“Why did he lie to me then?” he asked, demanded. The air around them was sparkling as his quirk reacted to his distress but neither of the parents paid it no mind. “What am I doing wrong? Why am I always losing, why is he leaving me? What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing is wrong with you,” she told him firmly, moving her hands to grip his shoulders. “Listen to me, Katsuki. Nothing’s wrong with you.”
“Why am I not good enough, then?” he pushed, searching for answers she didn’t have. “I’m doing the best I can. I swear I do. I can’t get better. I can’t change, I tried. Why can't my love be enough? Mom, why can’t I never be good enough?”
He broke down once again, crying, heaving. He bullied his way out of their arms, sliding onto the floor on his knees, one hand braced on the ground while his other scratched at his heart.
Oh no. No, no, no, everything but this. Both her and Masaru were on their feet immediately, crouching beside him.
Katsuki kept repeating the same question, sounding more and more strained and pained. He took shallow breaths between his words, his eyes clouded with panic.
She took the hand he kept on his chest, uncurling it and flattening it against the skin, right where his heart laid. “You need to breath, Kats. Control your heart, okay? You need to slow down your heartbeat. Breath.”
Masaru rubbed his back and together they worked on calming him down, praying that his heart will hold – shattered as it was, but still beating.
They got the panic under control, eventually. Katsuki was still on the floor, eyes shut as he refused to look at them further when he breathed out one last: “Why?”
“I don’t know, Katsuki,” she admitted, hating that she couldn’t give him a better answer. She hated seeing him hurt, hated seeing him give everything and receive nothing in return. “I wish I knew. You do your best but sometimes… Sometimes things don’t work out how we want them to.”
He squeezed his eyes shut even harder. She brought a hand to his hair, petting him slowly. “But you can’t give up, Kats. You have to keep fighting. You’re the best, understood? And the best never give up.”
“The best never give up,” he echoed hollowly.
“That’s what I thought.”
She wanted to tell him all would be well. She wanted to tell him everything would work out in the end. But her son had been through so much, had been through enough – and she would never forgive herself for giving him false hope.
They moved into his old bedroom, staying with him until he fell asleep, exhausted and worn-out. She watched her son’s body relax, the muscles easing.
He looked so young. He was so young, and yet he carried burdens no person ever should.
She turned to her husband, quietly sobbing in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and they cried for their son, knowing they could do nothing to fix this.
She knew that the next day, Katsuki would wake up and pretend nothing happened. That he would keep on moving, on working, on trying to be better and better as if he wasn’t killing himself in the process.
And as selfish as it was, Mitsuki hoped that her son’s bleeding heart was strong enough to keep on beating.