Chapter Text
Mitsuki Bakugou was normally a well put-together woman. She kept things tidy and orderly. She was damn good at her job. She also had one hell of a mouth on her (which could sometimes get her into trouble).
Lately Mitsuki had been really stressed out, so her already short temper had been even shorter. They had been working on a big project under a tight deadline, and she really didn’t work well under pressure. Yeah, she’d get the damn job done and get it done well, but that meant other aspects of her life would kind of fall apart. One of those aspects was her relationship with her husband Masaru. God, she loved that man. He was so gentle and kind, and he was considerate of her opinions and thoughts. (It didn’t hurt that he was handsome as all hell either).
Mitsuki swore she loved that man with her entire being. However, she’d never been good at showing affection. Still… she could have never expected this to happen.
Here she was, staring at a small piece of paper and feeling her entire world crumble around her. Masaru, the love of her life and her partner, was gone. He was gone. And no, he wasn’t dead. He hadn’t been taken by some villain, or had been forced to leave. He’d left on purpose.
Because she was “too much” for him. Because she “always seemed to be looking for a fight.” Because he had “fallen out of love” with her.
If she even cared.
OF COURSE SHE FUCKING CARED!
She cared too much. Fuck. Mitsuki knew she could be aggressive, but that’s how she’d survived. She had grown up surrounded by siblings who hated her and parents who didn’t give a shit—if she didn’t fight for herself then no one would. In fact, she had even shared this with Masaru. She had told him her insecurities about coming off as brutish or less than just because of how she had grown up and how she acted. The man had always reassured her that he loved her for her passion. Masaru had told her that she was special to him, and he didn’t mind how she could get sometimes. He’d even said that he could look for ways to help her manage her anger if she wanted to.
What a load of fucking bullshit.
Masaru was kind enough to leave Katsuki a note of his own, detailing his belief in their son becoming a great hero. Specifically saying that he still loved him and would always be there if he needed anything. That almost hurt her more.
It wasn’t like he was asking for a divorce, he had just up and left. It wasn’t like he’d tried to talk with her about things, and what she could do to be better. He was just… gone.
Mitsuki could barely register the tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn’t feel like she was alive. No, this was hell. It had to be.
It had been hours now and she was still looking at the letter. She wasn’t even reading it anymore—more just staring through the paper.
Eventually she did move, even if it was only to curl up on the couch and clutch the note to her chest. It was all she had left of him, no matter how much it hurt. And fuck, it hurt too bad. She couldn’t even process it, choosing not to process it at all and just lay there in silence. It had begun to get dark, and soon enough she had fallen asleep
When she woke up it was to the sound of the door slamming open. For a moment hope rose in her gut, causing her head to feel light and her face to brighten, before she heard the shout from her son announcing his presence. That’s right, he had been set to come home from the dorms this weekend. Was it already Saturday? Strange…
“Hag?”
Mitsuki turned away from the entrance to the living room, tucking herself into the cushions of the couch. The name filled her with a hot flash of anger, but it quickly disappeared. All she really felt was empty. She heard Katsuki enter, but he stayed oddly quiet. Somehow during the night Masaru’s note must’ve fallen. She heard Katsuki pick it up and assumed he’d started reading it judging by the little sounds of frustration and annoyance he made.
She felt him gently touch her shoulder. Then, in one of the softest voices she’d ever heard from the brat, he asked if she’d eaten or drank anything in the past twenty four hours. Mitsuki didn’t respond, but that in itself was answer enough. She hated how much he sounded like Masaru when he wasn’t shouting.
The sounds from the kitchen suggested he was cooking something, and sure enough he re-entered the living room with something that smelled incredible. It also made her sick to her stomach.
“C’mon Mom, you gotta eat.”
Mom, not Hag. Mitsuki couldn’t remember the last time he’d called her that. Oddly, that made her feel even worse.
“For fucks sake! EAT THE DAMN FOOD!”
Ahh, there he was. Her Katsuki, the little brat. He was so much like her, yet so different. She'd had nothing as a kid, and she had wanted it to be different for him. In hindsight, she probably shouldn’t have given him whatever he wanted. It was bad parenting and didn’t teach the right lessons, but she’d just wanted him to know that she cared. Sure, they’d get into little spats every now and then, but this kid was her world. She fucking loved him to bits—probably as much as Masaru—although it was a different kind of love.
She was so proud of the young man he’d become, despite all of her fucking up. Mitsuki was horrible at affection. She’d never really learned how to give it, but she tried. She hoped Katsuki saw that. He had to know, didn’t he? He had to know how much she loved him. Yet, Masaru hadn’t known. Maybe she was just incapable of love.
“Mom... please. You’re starting to worry me here.”
“Fuck off brat.”
“Ahh, so she speaks.”
The snark in his voice pissed her off, enough to make her actually sit up. Mitsuki’s vision darkened for a second, catching her off guard. Yeah, she probably did need to eat. When her vision cleared up she saw Katsuki holding a bowl of food out to her. She frowned, grabbing the bowl from him and not bothering to look at his face. She was scared what she would see.
They ate in relative silence. Katsuki asked her a few questions about work and things, to which she replied with various noncommittal hums and grunts. He didn’t mention Masaru once, which she was thankful for. It still hurt, but as long as she was doing something and not focusing on it the pain was manageable. He took their dirty dishes and went to wash them. Since Katsuki wasn’t hovering anymore, she figured it’d be a good time to wash up. She felt disgusting.
The rest of the day was spent trying to distract herself, and avoid Katsuki’s worried looks. It was so uncommon for the kid to show any form of concern that it honestly made her a bit uncomfortable. Also, it just reminded her that things weren’t normal. Masaru was gone. And that she couldn’t handle. So she cleaned, and read up on the news, and cleaned again. The garden looked like it needed tending to. Oh, and when was the last time she had organized her wardrobe? Maybe she could just-
“Hag, what the fuck are you doing?”
Mitsuki tensed, in the middle of reorganizing her shoes.
“Mind your own fucking business.”
She could feel as he walked up behind her, anger bubbling up in her chest. Why couldn’t he just listen and leave her the fuck alone? Why did he have to test her patience all of the damn time? Fuck! She just wanted to get shit done! Couldn’t he listen to his fucking mother?
“I think that’s the third time you’ve reorganized your shoes today. Look, maybe we just need to talk about this cuz-”
“Shut your fucking mouth.”
She whipped around, fire in her eyes as she shook with unbridled rage. Mitsuki rose to her full height. Even though she was shorter than Katsuki, he still took a step back.
“What the fuck is your problem? You’re acting fucking unhinged.” He didn't seem pissed yet, more just worried. Still, his words struck a chord within her. Her fists clenched as her mouth drew into a snarl.
“What’s my problem? Really Katsuki? Isn’t it fucking obvious?!”
No, stop, she doesn’t want to fight right now.
“My problem is you brat. You don’t fucking listen to me! You never have! You just do whatever the hell you want!”
She watched as his face screwed up in anger and his body stiffened.
“ I don’t listen to you?! ALL I FUCKING DO IS LISTEN TO YOU! Face it hag, you’re falling apart! Hell, I don’t even blame the old man! He was right to get the hell away from you!”
All she saw was red.
The next thing Mitsuki knew, her son was on the floor and her knuckles ached. He seemed shocked, and honestly so was she. Fuck! Why did this always happen? This time she’d gone too far. She’d never punched Katsuki. Usually the occasional smack to the back of his head got her point across, and it was never that hard. She should apologize. Or... or...
Something flashed in her son’s eyes—whether it was hurt or rage she couldn’t be too certain. He stood up and stomped away. And she just stood there. Like a coward.
Fuck.
She sank to the ground, hugging her knees to her chest. Katsuki was right. He was right. She was a monster. Masaru had fallen out of love with her because of that. He had left because she couldn't fucking control herself.
She sobbed.