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The bowl of leftover fried rice still has thirty-seconds in the microwave when there’s a knock on the front door. Enji turns his head toward the sound, furrowing his brows. He’s not expecting any visitors this evening.
Pulling his phone out of his pocket he checks for any messages from the agency indicating that one of the sidekicks would be dropping off some last minute paperwork. Or maybe it’s a reporter attempting to wrangle an interview. Maybe it’s just Fuyumi, here to drop off some food like she does sometimes, even though Enji has told her she doesn’t have to.
But there are no messages. His screen is blank.
The microwave beeps behind him on his way to the door. He should probably check the security cameras before approaching, just in case. But instinct tells him there’s no danger awaiting, though he’ll still remain vigilant.
Enji’s instinct is proven right when he opens the door.
“Shouto?”
His youngest son stands at the threshold, a paper bag in his hand. Shouto looks tired, clearly having just finished a long day of patrol, though he’s changed into his civilian clothes now.
“Is this a bad time?” is Shouto’s response.
Enji shakes his head, fixing his surprised expression before stepping aside. “No, not at all.”
Shouto nods, stepping inside and slipping off his shoes at the genkan. Enji watches cautiously as he pauses for a moment, taking the place in — it’s been a few years since he’s been to his old house.
“Katsuki made some mapo tofu,” Shouto says, holding up the paper bag. “I haven’t eaten yet.”
Enji still has no idea what to say. He would think he’s the last person Shouto would ever really want to see at the end of a workday, much less eat dinner with alone. There are usually other people around as buffer whenever they do meet. But Enji accepts, leading them to the dining table and ignoring the fried rice in the microwave.
Shouto pulls out the tupperwares while Enji grabs the necessary bowls and utensils. Quiet “thank yous” and “you’re welcomes” are passed between them but nothing more.
The silence persists throughout dinner. And Enji is still not quite sure of why his son decided to visit him out of the blue like this.
He takes his last bite and pushes his bowl aside before looking up. Shouto’s gaze is focused somewhere on the table as he fidgets with the simple ring around his ring finger.
“Congratulations,” Enji says and Shouto’s gaze lifts. He clears his throat. “I did happen to hear from Fuyumi about your engagement but I haven’t had the chance to speak with you since I heard, so I apologize.”
“It’s been a busy few months,” Shouto shrugs, “I wasn’t able to stop by either. I thought about texting you but. I didn’t.”
Enji shakes his head, “No, I understand. Extend my wishes to Dynamigh—Bakugou as well.”
“I will.”
The silence returns but there’s the weight of unspoken words in the air between them. Enji remains patient, picking at the stray grains of rice on the table he’ll have to wipe down later. He glances up briefly to see Shouto visibly take a deep breath through his nose and then clench his jaw, clearly trying to find words that seem to be evading him.
And then Shouto is shifting in his chair. Enji turns his full attention on him once more as he pulls something out from his back pocket. It’s a small card-sized envelope.
Enji watches as Shouto fiddles with it, the sound of his blunt nail scratching the paper filling the space. It doesn’t take him long to find Enji’s gaze once more, determined. Shouto holds out the envelope to him across the table.
“I’d like you to come,” Shouto says evenly. Enji is only a little hesitant while reaching for the item. He doesn’t need to open it to know what’s inside.
Familiar feelings of guilt and regret rise up inside Enji’s chest and washes over him anew.
“Shouto…” His son doesn’t say anything as Enji trails off, just regards him as he opens the envelop to reveal the wedding invitation. “You don’t have to, I’m sure Fuyumi must have asked you—”
“No,” Shouto cuts him off and Enji’s eyes widen. “No. Fuyumi didn’t ask me to invite you or any such thing. This is—this is my choice. I’m inviting you.”
Enji doesn’t know how to respond which is just as well because Shouto continues to speak.
“I don’t need you thinking I’m offering this out of pity or obligation or anything along those lines. And I would also appreciate if you stop with your own self-pity regarding this as well, it’s unnecessary.”
Enji is slightly taken aback by the bluntness and the fact that Shouto seems to be able to read his spiralling thoughts but he nods.
“I wasn’t sure if I wanted you there,” Shouto admits through his teeth, looking away and then back. “Mom, Fuyumi, Natsu. Touya. You hurt them. A lot. They’ll be there. And you—you hurt me. So I wasn’t sure if it would be the right—the right—”
Shouto’s eyes turn mildly glossly and he takes another steadying breath. Enji waits.
“As much as I wish it were possible, there’s no changing the past,” Shouto says firmly, momentarily squeezing his eyes. “You’ve apologized and it’s been a few years. And—And I know that you’ve made changes, as you should. And there’s still a lot to heal from and things like this don’t simply disappear. There’s so much I’ve had to learn and so much I’ve had to unlearn and it’s been difficult, it’s been—” Shouto shakes his head vigorously and gets to his feet. Enji has no idea how to comfort him or whatever else he should do. Anger is the only emotion he’s really been on the receiving end of between them, and rightly so. But this is different.
“Shouto, if this is a difficult decision, I don’t—”
“You can’t change the past,” Shouto reiterates, “But you can be present. Change for the better and be present, like you should have been. I’m happy now. Katsuki makes me happy and I want you to see it. Not out of spite, I’ve grown from that and I’m—I’m healing. And so is mom. But I want you to know I put in the work and I’m here and I’m happy. And I’d like you to be at my wedding.”
Enji swallows, taking in every word his son has spoken to him. There’s so much he wants to say but he’s not sure he’s allowed. He’s not sure if he’s allowed to be proud of Shouto, after all he’s done. But he is. He is proud and he is glad that this is the person his son has grown up to be despite Enji’s ambition-driven attempts to mold him into someone entirely different.
But as always words mean nothing without actions. And so he makes a vow, one that he will make sure to follow through to convey his sentiments in the little ways he can.
“Thank you,” Enji says resolutely, “I will be. I promise.”