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The evening before is a blur; a blur of exhaustion, overwhelm, and the irrational urge to curl up into fetal position on the floor right where he is.
Just one of those days for a Pro.
The only clear-headed moment Katsuki can recall after his shift was deciding to take the left at that intersection rather than right. Maybe he should’ve texted his parents before pulling into their driveway. But they didn’t seem to mind.
Katsuki blinks awake now, sprawled on his stomach on a twin bed. His limbs are heavy and throbbing mildly with fatigue. The sun pours in through the edges of the curtain, the warmth and angle of the rays indicating that it’s already the late afternoon. His phone confirms it.
Sixteen fucking hours of sleep. How the hell did the old hag let him get away with that?
Groaning, Katsuki pushes himself up to sit. A brief moment of vertigo has him cross crossing his legs and closing his eyes. He reaches for the miraculously full bottle of water on his nightstand and chugs when there’s a knock on his door.
“C’min.”
It’s ma, a laundry basket propped on her hip.
“Oh good, you’re alive,” she says. Katsuki rolls his eyes.
She sets the basket down and strides inside, dropping onto the edge of Katsuki’s bed. Normally he would’ve bristled at this breach of his personal space but he feels a wave of gratitude wash over him instead.
“Sleep okay, kiddo?” Ma asks, reach out to brush his bangs away from his forehead a few times when she, too, registers that Katsuki isn’t about to fight her for being in here.
He nods and yawns, eyes fluttering with the comforting touch. She scoots closer and offers an amused smile. Katsuki can read the lines of worry in her smooth features but she doesn’t probe further.
She gets it. She knows him.
Katsuki stretches his legs out onto her lap, entitled and childish. She doesn’t bat an eye before squeezing his angle, his foot, then his sore calf. She does the same with the other leg methodically. Katsuki flops onto his back feeling the tension melt out of him.
Fucking insane how the person he wanted to avoid the most growing up is the person he chooses to run to when shit hits the fan. Being twenty-seven is fucking weird.
Ma begins to talk about random things and Katsuki only half listens. She eventually pokes and prods about rotting like fish on his bed and tells him to get up when he’s about to doze off again. He offers his perfunctory ‘fuck off’ but obeys. She returns the energy before patting his chest with annoying affection and kissing his temple.
Then she leaves again, the door to his room left wide open. Ugh.
The smell of his dad’s cooking wafts up soon enough and Katsuki drags himself through the motions of freshening up. He pads down to the dining room and accepts the old man’s greeting and ruffle of his hair.
Three hours later, Katsuki’s back in his car returning to his apartment. The various Tupperware of leftovers sitting on his backseat has the space smelling like a restaurant. Guess he’s covered for his next couple shifts, thank fuck.
Back home and settled on his couch, he pulls out his phone to find messages from his mom.
>>Missed you kiddo
>>Keep kicking ass, we’re proud of you
>>And get a fucking haircut
>>Love you
Katsuki clicks his tongue in annoyance and then grins.
Fuck off old hag my hair’s fine<<
And thanks<<
Love you too<<