Chapter warning: Mentions of unhealthy eating patterns

That evening, a sombre mood hung low over the dinner table. Izuku couldn't help the gnawing guilt which ached in his chest, he couldn't help but feel as though it was his fault that the Bakugo family all wore looks of sadness and anger on their face.

"I'm sorry about all of this..." Izuku quietly said. He didn't dare lift his eyesight from his plate, too scared that he would see looks of contempt upon the faces of the people he considered his family.

"You have no reason to be sorry, Izuku," Masaru reassured the young boy. He placed a gentle hand on Izuku's shoulder and gave it a little squeeze, "None of this is your fault."

"Yeah, don't worry about it kid," Mitsuki's voice was still a bit coarse from her crying, even so, she still attempted to project the same sense of bravado she usually had. Like mother, like son. "There are certain things your mum could have done. Like, tell us that she's been struggling more than she let on for the past nine years-"

"Mitsuki," Masaru said sharply.

"Right, sorry. It's... Don't worry about it, Izuku, we don't blame you for anything that's going on, ok?" Mitsuki smiled gently at Izuku and ran a hand through his abundant curls.

"Ok," Izuku replied in a small voice.

Silence settled over the table once again, however this time it was not as suffocating. Izuku could breathe easier knowing that he wasn't a burden to Mitsuki or Masaru. The feeling of being an intruder still lingered at the back of Izuku's mind, ready to strike when his defences were lowered and his self-esteem was bad, but he was safe for the time being.

"Kacchan..." Izuku whispered.

The two teens stood on the landing, each ready to enter their respective rooms before Izuku had hesitantly called out to his friend across the space between them. Mitsuki and Masaru's gentle conversation provided background noise for the two boys.

After a brief period of extended silence, Katsuki finally responded, "What is it, Nerd?"

"Umm... You can obviously say no if you want to, I won't complain, but I was just wondering if we could sleep in the same room tonight. I just... I don't want to be on my own." Izuku stuttered out.

Katsuki stood, contemplating, for a few minutes. The anticipatory silence grated on Izuku's nerves. If Katsuki didn't want to sleep in the same room, Izuku would rather he just say it quickly rather than drag out his answer like this.

"Fine. But you're not sleeping in my bed. I'll get the futon from the cupboard, you get changed. In your room though, I don't care how long we've known each other, I never want to see you naked, got it?" Katsuki snapped.

Relief rushed through Izuku's veins. He nodded frantically and rushed into his temporary room to get changed.

Izuku had just pulled his pyjama top over his head when his phone started buzzing incessantly from on top of the duvet. Eyebrows furrowed, Izuku walked over to his phone and picked it up wondering who could possibly be calling him, after all, he had very few relations outside of the Bakugo family and his mother.

As it turns out, it was his mum who was calling him. Izuku probably should have expected it, and yet it still surprised him to see his mother's contact photo and name flashing on the screen.

"Hello," Izuku answered.

"Izuku," Inko sounded relieved and exhausted and yet Izuku couldn't help but feel the thrill of joy at hearing that her voice wasn't slurred. She was speaking clearly, something she hadn't done in a long time.

"Mum! How are you? Are you out of the hospital? Did the social worker come and visit you? Did you tell her that you want me to stay with Mitsuki and Masaru, cause she won't let me?" Izuku bombarded his mother with question after question, he was only stopped when his mother hushed him gently through the call.

"Calm down, Izuku. I'm ok. I am out of the hospital, I'm at home at the moment. I saw the social worker, she forced me to sign some sort of care order that lets them put you into care. I did say that I'd prefer that you stay with Mitsuki, but she was very adamant that she wouldn't let that happen." Inko answered Izuku's questions patiently.

"You're safe, right?" Izuku asked somewhat hesitantly.

"Yes, Izuku, I'm safe in my own house," Inko said with fond exasperation, " I should be asking you that, you know, I am your mother."

Somewhat bitterly, Izuku thought that she hadn't been acting like his mother for years now. She'd been so wrapped in her own grief and drinking that she'd failed to notice that her son was acting as his own parent in her place. Izuku pushed these bitter, dark thoughts to the back of his mind. Now wasn't the time to voice such concerns.

"You know perfectly well I'm safe. I'm with Uncle Masaru and Auntie Mitsuki. Of course, I'm safe," Izuku responded in the same tone of voice as his mother.

"Yes... But you won't be for long," Inko sighed.

Izuku wanted to scream and shout down the phone at his mum. They were doing so well, the conversation was veering towards light and easy-to-talk about topics, and yet she had ruined that by bringing up the glaring facts that neither one of them could ignore.

"Mum, how long is this going to last? You are going to get better soon, right?" Izuku asked hesitantly.

"Oh, Izuku," and there they were. The tears. Izuku couldn't handle his mother's tears, no matter whether he was the cause of them or not, they always made him guilty, he always felt the need to do everything possible to make his mum better.

"I'm trying to get better, I promise. I know that it's only been a day, but I am doing everything I can to get better. I'm accepting help from professionals and I'm going to be attending a programme to help me get sober, you'll be home soon, ok?" Inko sobbed.

"Ok," Izuku worked hard to speak through the lump building up in his throat. If he cried, his mum would cry more, she'd tell him to stop before she cried, even more, resulting in Izuku feeling even more guilty for making his mum upset. It was a ruthless cycle that Izuku could only break out of by walking away from his mum, and he didn't want to do that. He could never abandon his mother when she needed him. She would always need him. He had to look after her.

"Well, I'd better let you go now. You've got school tomorrow, yeah? Love you, good night, Izuku," Inko croaked.

"Good night, Mum," Izuku replied. He didn't tell her it was a Friday, so he didn't have school the following day. He didn't tell her because then he'd have to stay on the phone with her for longer, and he didn't want to do that. It was hard to talk to somebody normally when you had a stewing annoyance at them bubbling underneath the surface of your skin.

Izuku was jolted from his melancholy thoughts by a sharp knock on his door, "Come on, Nerd! It doesn't take that long to put on your stupid nerdy pyjamas!"

"Coming, Kacchan!" Izuku called back. He put his phone on charge, wiped his face in an effort to fruitlessly get rid of the tear tracks on his cheeks, and took a deep breath. He would be fine. His mum would be fine. Everything would be fine.

"What took you so long?" Katsuki grumbled.

Izuku shuffled into Katsuki's bedroom and flopped face first onto the futon that had been laid out on the floor beside Katsuki's bed. Already he could feel the tension melting out of his body at the cloud-like softness that greeted him.

"My mum called me," Izuku said, his voice muffled by the pillow he had buried his head in.

"Oh, do you... Do you want to talk about it, or..." Katsuki said haltingly.

"No."

"Ok then, that's fine. I'm putting on a film, I know you like it so don't complain. Got it, Nerd?"

"Yes, Kacchan. I understand."

And just like that, silence settled over Katsuki's bedroom as the two boys glued their eyes to the TV screen, watching in silent awe as their favourite superhero, All Might, performed impossible feats and saved the day. Izuku allowed all his worries and fears to be washed away by the explosions and action music blaring from the TV. For one golden moment, everything was ok. He was just sleeping at his best (and only) friend's house. His mum wasn't an alcoholic. His dad hadn't left them. Izuku wasn't a constant ball of anxiety and stress. For a glowing few hours, everything was left in the past so that Izuku could be a normal thirteen-year-old, but Izuku knew that it couldn't last. As soon as the film ended, those thoughts which had been pushed to the back of his head would surge forward like the ocean at high tide. No peace could last forever.

"No matter how often I watch that film, it's always amazing, don't you agree, Kacchan?" Izuku whispered into the darkness of the room.

"Mhm," Katsuki yawned.

"I know you're tired, Kacchan, don't force yourself to stay awake for me. I'm going to sleep now anyway. Oh, don't forget to take out your hearing aid. Good night, Kacchan," Izuku hummed. In response, he got a grumble from Katsuki. It was exactly like old times when Izuku would sleep at Katsuki's house every weekend, before his mum's condition got worse and he had to start rejecting the offers for sleepovers because his mum needed him at home.

Early morning sunlight filtered through Katsuki's blinds and warmed Izuku's face. Katsuki's roaring snores accompanied the dawn chorus as Izuku was slowly roused from his slumber. Unlike the day before, Izuku was not given the courtesy of not remembering the circumstances he was in. The news that he would be going into foster care had followed him from the waking world into his dreams. He had dreamt of being forced to stay with strangers with leering smiles and dark eyes. He had been dragged away from his mother, never to see her again. It seemed that Izuku would get no reprieve from the nightmare he was living in.

With a heavy sigh, Izuku rolled off of his futon and glanced over at his slumbering friend. Katsuki usually rose early, no matter what day it was, but it seemed like the previous day's excitement had worn Katsuki out. He looked like he wouldn't be waking up for half an hour at least. It was nice seeing his friend so relaxed, with no worries to cloud his expression and cause his eyes to narrow with anger. Seeing Katsuki's relaxed state set Izuku's heart at ease a bit, but it was still a tumultuous hurricane of fear, anger, sadness and (slowly emerging and somewhat grudging) acceptance.

"Oh, Izuku, I didn't expect you to be awake so early," Mitsuki smiled gently at her pseudo-sister's son as he emerged from Katsuki's room. It didn't look like he had slept too well, his usually pale face was chalk white and the bags under his eyes had somehow gotten heavier and gained an even darker hue.

"Auntie, good morning," Izuku yawned, "The sun woke me up. You know how Kacchan has a weird aversion to closing his curtains."

"Yes, I have no idea where he gets it from. He's a bit strange." Mitsuki chuckled, "Anyway, would you like some breakfast, I was just going to make some pancakes if you'd like some?"

"Yeah, that would be great!" Izuku finally smiled that beaming smile that Mitsuki hadn't seen in months, possibly even years. It was a smile that warmed even the coldest of hearts and made the day seem a little bit bright. However, the smile didn't stay for long, it fell after a few seconds and Izuku's eyes swam with sadness.

"Auntie Mitsuki...Have you spoken to my mum since... Since she got out of the hospital?" Izuku asked hesitantly, before Mitsuki could answer, he steamed onwards, "Because she called me last night, and obviously I answered, and she said that social services forced her to sign me into care. And I feel so guilty about it but I just don't want to speak to her at the moment and I don't hate her but I just..."

Izuku dissolved into sobs that shook his entire body. Mitsuki had never been good at dealing with emotions, not like her husband, although she's proud that she's much better at it than her son. That being said, Mitsuki would do anything to soothe Izuku, she couldn't bear to see the kind, gentle, and happy boy she had known since he was a newborn be in so much pain. Slowly, Mitsuki pulled Izuku to her side and laid a gentle kiss on the crown of his head.

"It's ok to feel like that, Izuku, especially since you've had to live with this for so long," Mitsuki whispered, "You know that I never sugarcoat anything, there's no point in hiding the truth behind honeyed words. I'm angry at Inko. Extremely angry. She wasn't looking after you properly, she could have asked me and Masaru for help, and we would have helped her gladly, but she went on living like that. But I also know that I can't blame her entirely, asking for help, especially with something as sensitive as mental health, is very hard and I know that perhaps better than many people. What I'm trying to say to you, Izuku is that it's fine for you to be angry at your mother, but it's also fine for you to feel numb, sad, happy, all of that. Your mind needs time to process what's happening. And I'm willing to bet that there are some memories that you've repressed to make all of this a bit easier. Nobody can dictate your emotions, Izuku. Anything that you feel is valid. And if what you feel is nothing, that's fine too, ok?"

Izuku burrowed himself deeper into Mitsuki's side and nodded his head, "Thank, Auntie, I'm sorry if I'm being a bother-"

"Don't say that. You could never be a bother to me or my family, ok, Izuku? You are part of our family, even if it's not by blood."

"Ok, thank you."

"There's no need to thank me. Now, come on, let's go and make these pancakes. I'm sure the Brat will complain if he doesn't get something to eat the second he wakes up."

Izuku chuckled weakly and pulled away from Mitsuki. He followed her downstairs, wiping his eyes and discreetly trying to clear his throat as he went. He was happy with the Bakugos, he still didn't understand why he couldn't just stay. But he wouldn't be in foster care long, he'd be back with his mother in no time.

The remaining two occupants of the house slowly filtered into the kitchen upon smelling the sweet scent of pancakes wafting through the house. It felt so domestic to sit at a kitchen table and eat with other people as opposed to curled up on the sofa by himself, Izuku really didn't want to relish in the warm feeling that had bubbled up in his chest, but it was hard to stop himself. He felt like he was betraying his mother by enjoying the Bakugos company. Wasn't his mother enough? Wasn't the knowledge that she was still alive and trying her hardest to get better enough? On the other hand, Izuku didn't want to indulge in the familial atmosphere that the Bakugos had so generously created when he knew he was going to be ripped away from it without remorse. Within the next few days, he would be taken to a stranger's house and expected to live there like it was normal like it was something that he even wanted to happen.

"Izuku, would you like some more blueberries?" Masaru asked kindly, drawing Izuku out of the swirling thoughts he was always falling prey to.

"No thank you, Uncle, I'm full," Izuku replied.

"But you've barely eaten anything..." Mitsuki sighed.

"I'm not used to eating breakfast, I don't usually eat it." Izuku said casually, "I usually only eat dinner, every day. Sometimes I'll eat lunch if I'm really hungry."

Masaru and Mistuki shared a look. It was the kind of look that set Izuku on edge. He glanced over at Katsuki, hoping that his friend would provide shelter from the oppressive tension steadily mounting in the room. Except... Katsuki also looked extremely concerned (or as concerned as he could look whilst still maintaining his petulant scowl).

"It's not that big of an issue, really," Izuku tried to reassure, "I'm just not hungry most days. I don't starve myself, I eat every day. If I'm that hungry and it's not meal time, I'll just eat a snack."

"Ok, Izuku. We can't force you to eat, but maybe share this information with... whoever you end up living with, ok? I'm sure that I don't have to tell you that this sort of eating pattern isn't healthy." Masaru hums.

"Yes, I will."

"Talking about that, we should all get dressed. That social worker will be here in half an hour to show Izuku those care files or whatever they're called and I don't want her bitching to me about anything else." Mitsuki huffed.

There was a general clamour as all four of them stood from the table, each scraping off their plates of leftover food and loading their dishes into the dishwasher before traipsing up the stairs to get ready to face a new day.

As Izuku pulled on his clothes, he glanced briefly at his phone. The call with his mother surfaced in his mind and his chest ached with the memory. Sometimes, when he lived at home, he dreaded the thought of entering his mother's bedroom to talk to her. He never knew what he'd find. Would she be staring and despondent? Would she have tear-streaked cheeks and speak with hitched breaths? Would she laugh and joke with him, overly happy given her circumstances?

Izuku thinks that her being happy and loud was the hardest mood to deal with. It was all fake. Manufactured by the liquid drug she poured into her body with reckless abandon. It was eerie. It wasn't right. But Izuku never wanted to spoil his mum's good moods, so he played along, all the while he silently prayed that she would let him leave her room so that he could escape the too-big smiles and hazy eyes.

But none of that mattered now. Inko would get better soon and Izuku would be back with his mum before he knew it. 

Thank you for reading and I hope you have a wonderful day wherever you are.