Work Text:
So I thought that if I piled something good on all my bad that I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from dad
Stick Season, Noah Kahan
Shouto is really not sure how he ended up here. Izuku is asleep, clinging to his arm and drooling a little bit. Katsuki’s hand is thrown across his pale waist, his hand tangled up in Shouto’s t-shirt. On his other side, Eijirou has his head pillowed on Shouto’s chest, and he’s nibbling on his own fingers in his sleep. Shouto reaches up to gently take them out before he hurts himself. The bed is much too warm, and there are too many limbs tangled together. And any other night, this would be blissful and fill Shouto with a sense of peace. But tonight he’d gotten a text from his father.
The text wasn’t even bad. It wasn’t mean, like they used to be. It could even be considered nice, if they had been any other father and son. His father was just reminding him to renew his hero license and asking him about the damn program he knows he probably should apply to but hasn’t found the energy to. But they are who they are. And Shouto feels like his skin is too tight and the air is too thin and his brain is too loud.
He gently detangles himself and tries to get out of the bed but he probably jostled Katsuki too much. He makes an inquisitive sort of sound.
“It’s fine, Katsuki,” Shouto shushes. “Go back to sleep.”
Shouto walks to the kitchen and grabs his water bottle, before heading for the balcony. He sits on the floor, holding one of the cold metal bars in his left hand and trying to quiet the overwhelming feeling roaring in his head and in his chest. He looks up at the handful of lit windows and feels empty and full and roaring all at once.
I thought I was past this. I thought I finally had left this darkness behind. Everything is so good now, so why can’t I just ignore him? Why does he still make me feel like this?
He leans his head back against the wall and stares blankly at the lights on the windows and the little square of dark sky between buildings and he tries really hard not to hyperventilate or stop breathing altogether, although he very badly wants to do either.
Why can’t I just be enough for him as I am?
And it’s such a stupid question, really. And he knows the answer and he’s come to the conclusion that despite all of Enji’s thoughts and feelings about him, Shouto is enough. He’s enough for himself and for his partners and for the family he’s chosen for himself over the years. Shouto is enough. And still, one text from his father and he feels his brain succumb to the darkness, he feels the anger and frustration and the fire rising within him.
“Scooch.”
Katsuki’s voice startles him. He’s standing there, a blanket draped over his shoulders and making shooing gestures at Shouto. He sits down next to him when Shouto moves, leaning against the wall and tucking his bare feet under the blanket.
“How bad is it?” He asks, and Shouto doesn’t think he can actually make his voice work at the moment so he responds with a tired grunt. Katsuki just hums in understanding and leans his head on his shoulder. “Alright, I can nap out here for a bit then. Let me know when your voice comes back.”
And Shouto can taste tears in the back of his throat, hot and heavy and sharp. Because Katsuki always knows when he can’t talk, when dragging his voice out of his mouth feels like flaying his skin. And he never pushes, instead he waits for him. On the worst days, they sign, and it doens’t feel like a burden, or an imposition, but like a loving touch, like a hug after a long day.
Shouto doens’t know how long it is before he finally feels like he isn’t screaming at himself from behind a glass wall anymore. His breathing has synced with Katsuki’s and even though his skin still feels like too much, the weight of Katsuki’s head on his shoulder settles him.
“My dad texted me about the program and renewing my license,” he whispers.
“You’ve had a million things on your plate recently, you’ll do that when you’re ready. And Izuku already got the paperwork for the renewal, pretty sure he was planning on filling it for all of us this week. You know how he is.”
Shouto laughs at that, at the blunt acceptance of Katsuki. He feels the darkness in his mind get a little softer, less like a black hole now and more like the night sky. He takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I know, I kinda love that about him though,” he replies.
Katsuki snorts. “Yeah, me too.” He nuzzles Shouto’s shoulder. “You ready to go back to bed? Or do you need to stay out here a little longer?”
“Let’s go to bed,” he agrees.
In their bed, Eijirou and Izuku have tangled together in a ridiculous way, with Izuku sprawled half on top of Eijirou and both of them drooling a little on each other. Shouto’s heart squeezes in his chest as Katsuki climbs in, gets close enough that his back is to Izuku’s and reached out to Shouto. And as he lets himself get pulled into Katsuki’s chest, Shouto thinks that maybe everything will be okay. Maybe all the good doesn’t dissipate the darkness that his father calls forth in him, but it does make it much more bearable.