A little later, you and Mirio were in the cafeteria, sitting next to each other. You were exchanging light words, a few smiles... little things that made you feel good. Ryota was with his paternal grandmother (like every morning, after all), and you felt lighthearted, happy, carefree.
Katsuki was sitting a short distance from you, alone as always. Every now and then someone would try to approach him for a chat, but he would quickly push them away, in his usual grumpy manner, almost like a boy who didn't want to be disturbed.
But the biggest rift opened the day he was supposed to come pick up Ryota. Katsuki arrived early that day, and from the garden, he saw you. You were on the grass, wearing a loose, comfortable sweater; your loose hair fell to your shoulders and moved lightly in the wind. Mirio was lying next to you, with Ryota resting on his chest. The baby, now over eight months old, laughed in his own unique way: sweet little sounds, his mouth wide open, and his red eyes full of love. His little hands clung to the fabric of Mirio's shirt, as if that place, above him, was the only place where he felt truly safe.
You leaned down to kiss Mirio first, then Ryota's forehead. Mirio smiled, and you smiled. Everything seemed so simple, so natural. You really did feel like family. Katsuki stood still behind the hedge, clutching the car keys so tightly he felt them sink into his palm. He held his breath, but he didn't feel anger. What he felt was called regret. The real kind, the kind that eats you up from the inside and then leaves you with nothing but bones. That which hurts without needing to wound.
The next day, you decided to talk to him, addressing the issue head-on. At the end of class, you ran into him in the hallway: his back was turned, his hands in his pockets, and he was heading for the exit. When you saw him walking toward his car, you started running to catch up.
That car... was still full of memories.
"Kats...Katsuki!" you called, raising a hand toward him. He stopped short.
"Katsuki, wait… please, don't go."
You reached him with your heart in your throat, your breath short from excitement. He turned slowly, as if unsure if you were actually calling him. His look was a mixture of surprise and disbelief, as if he didn't know what to expect from you.
"Sorry if..." you began, trying to catch your breath. "If I'm wasting your time, but I have something to ask you."
You brought a hand to your chest, trying to calm your racing heartbeat. Then you looked up at him: your blue eyes were searching his. His cheeks were slightly flushed, and despite his surprise, there was a sadness in his eyes that was impossible to miss.
"What the fuck do you want?" Katsuki blurted out, his voice a little too harsh, a little too tense.
"I've… I've seen you feeling off, down for days… you don't even seem like yourself. Has something happened?" you asked, letting out a long sigh. You'd finally managed to ask him. That question had been weighing on your mind for too long.
"I have nothing. And it's none of your business." His response was curt, cutting. He turned again, heading for the car.
"Wait... wait, Katsuki..." you tried again, reaching out with your hand, as if to stop him. He didn't even need it: with a yank, he snatched it away.
"Leave me alone and go away, damn it."
"But I..." you tried to reply, your voice shaking.
"I said you have to go!" he snapped, louder, more ferocious. "It's none of your problem what I have. And don't ever come after me again."
Your gaze changed. From concern to resignation, in a single instant. Your eyes drifted toward the wheels of his car.
"O... okay, Katsuki. Sorry to bother you... see you." Your voice was low, almost a whisper.
You turned, ready to leave, and began walking in the opposite direction, without looking back. The sound of your footsteps seemed to weigh more heavily than the silence between you two.
A few seconds passed… maybe a minute. Then, from afar, his voice reached you, scratchy, broken:
"Tara! …Tara, fuck, stop!"
You froze immediately. You obeyed without thinking. As if your body still knew how to recognize him.
"What… why did you come talking to me?" he asked, breathing a little heavy, his gaze fixed on the floor. He looked up at you for only a second, before lowering them again.
"I told you why," you replied softly. "What's happening to you, Katsuki? Why are you so… different lately?"
He seemed about to say something...his lips slightly parted, his breath held, when a car slowed next to you.
It was Mirio.
He was still wearing his hero uniform, with that bright, open smile he seemed to carry with him wherever he went. From the backseat, Ryota looked out the window: sitting in his car seat, belt fastened, his little hands in his mouth, and his red eyes shining as he saw you.
A simple scene.
"Oh, my love!" you exulted as soon as you saw your son. Mirio rolled down the window, with his usual kind smile.
"Are you okay? Do you need anything?" he asked, with that naturalness that put anyone at ease.
You exchanged a quick glance with him, then turned to Katsuki.
"Do you want... do you want to say hello to Ryota?" Your voice was calm, attentive. Katsuki nodded. He didn't say a word.
You opened the door and picked up your son. Ryota, almost eight months old, was a perfect miniature copy of Katsuki: the same bright, lively red eyes; the same blond hair, spiky and slightly tousled; even the same intent expression when he looked at something with interest.
You smiled as his small hands reached out to Katsuki. It was a simple, natural gesture. As if nothing had changed for the child. As if that father, so distant and broken in that moment, was still his safe place.
"He knows very well that you are his dad." You said this, turning to Katsuki, but without completely taking your eyes off Mirio.
Mirio nodded slowly. He wasn't stupid...he knew when it wasn't the right time to speak. He had too much respect for you, for your history, for everything that had come before him. His jealousy, there, meant nothing. And he knew it.
You looked back at Katsuki.
That's when you saw him.
Two tears. Not loud, not desperate. Just two silent lines running down his cheeks to his chin, without trembling, without him trying to stop them.
He didn't burst into sobs, he didn't turn away, he didn't close himself off. He was just... letting go.
And in that moment, it was impossible not to notice: he was broken.
Ryota reached out his little hands to him again. As if he recognized that crack and wanted to console him. As if he felt the need to hug his dad.
"I... I'm not jealous of you two..." he began, his voice low and uncertain. He wiped his tears with the back of his hand, almost annoyed with himself. "I'm jealous... of the time I wasted."
He looked up at you.
You held your breath. Not because you didn't know. But because hearing him say it was different. It was real.
"I know very well that... there are moments I'll never get back."
His voice didn't tremble; it was steady, like someone who had finally accepted a painful truth.
"And I also know there's this ease between you two…"
He looked at Mirio, then at you. "…I never learned how to have that."
He sniffed and, with an almost newfound gentleness, took Ryota's small hand between his fingers. The boy squeezed his finger, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.
Mirio had turned off the engine a while ago. He stood there, still, silent. Not out of embarrassment, but out of respect. None of you spoke, only little Ryota made noises with his voice, dancing up and down on your arm. The air was filled with words that didn't need to be said.
Ryota looked at Katsuki, and Katsuki looked at Ryota.
And in that look… there was everything that had never been said.
"I saw you… laughing," he said, his eyes turned to you, his voice barely above a whisper. "Like… like you used to laugh with me. Before I… ruined everything."
You curled your fingers into the fabric of your jacket, as if to keep from shaking.
Katsuki took a step toward you. Slow and uncertain. As if he were afraid that if he moved too much, everything would fall apart again.
"This..." he breathed in, but the air caught in his throat, "...this is the first time we've really spent any time together. The three of us." A bitter laugh escaped his lips, but it quickly turned into a sob. It was the laugh of someone who knew they'd lost something they'd never get back.
"And every time I look at you…" he continued, his voice shaking like his hands, "I think it could have… it could have been me, that man over there."
He pointed at Mirio. His finger was shaking more than his voice.
"This family…" His sentence got stuck in his throat. Like a lump in his throat that wouldn't go away. Then he inhaled. "…it could have been ours." He looked at you.
And that's when it really broke.
Ryota, without understanding, rested his little head against your chest. As if he knew. As if he recognized the pain.
You looked at Mirio. He didn't say anything. One look was enough to tell you he understood. Then you looked back at Katsuki.
"I came back… to tell you I want to fix it. Everything." He said it trembling, his voice cracking, as if every word cost him a chunk of his breath.
His fist clenched against his chest, hard, almost painful. He really seemed to want to rip out his heart and place it in your hands, alive and beating.
"I want… to go back home with you." He closed his eyes for a moment, because looking at you hurt and healed him at the same time. "I want you. I want Ryota. I want…"
He inhaled, but the air trembled in his lungs.
"I want another child with you."
The world stopped. It simply stopped.
Mirio lowered his gaze, his hands on the steering wheel. Not out of jealousy, but out of respect. Ryota looked at Katsuki and smiled, his little hands still clutching his finger.
Katsuki was there, before you, completely stripped of pride, defenses, and excuses. He was simply telling you the truth, and he was showing you a pain that longed to be reunited.
You gasped. Your heart took a long, slow leap, then returned to its place, but not in the same way. His words had struck a chord...not because they were beautiful, but because they were true. Because they hurt.
The intensity with which he spoke, the way his voice cracked, made you realize he was truly hurting. That regret wasn't a whim. It was an open wound. And he was bleeding to death in front of you.
When he looked up, what he saw in you nearly took his breath away. And when his eyes found yours again, it was with the fear of losing you forever.
His hand slowly rose to your face. His fingers brushed your cheek, and you didn't pull away. The touch was warm, familiar… and the electricity that coursed through your veins took you back to nights, hugs, laughter, caresses you thought you'd buried.
Katsuki swallowed, and his voice came low, almost a whisper:
"Let me... let me go home. With you."
Silence. Mirio's gaze was fixed on the road, his yellow mask raised, and his hands tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles were scratched. But he continued not to speak and endured it in silence.
And in that silence, you remembered.
You remembered the passion with which you had loved each other, the nights when it seemed like you and Katsuki were alone against the whole world. You remembered his laugh, his large hands on your back, the feeling of being chosen, wanted, desired.
But you remembered everything else, too.
You remembered the last month of pregnancy, the nausea in the morning, the tears stifled on the pillow. You remembered the phone ringing unanswered. You remembered the unanswered texts. You remembered the times you'd simply ask, "Can you come? I need you." And he wasn't there.
You remembered the absences more than the kisses. You remembered the loneliness.
You remembered that you'd faced the pain with your bare hands...and that since then you'd learned to protect yourself.
The present was there, before you: Katsuki with Ryota in his arms, tears streaming down his face. But the past was there too, just a step back, still warm, still throbbing.
It wasn't as easy as letting him go home.
You lowered your gaze, and when you spoke, your voice was firm, confident.
"Katsuki… I loved you. I loved everything about you. And I'm happy I had a child with you. I regret nothing."
Katsuki held his breath. He remained silent, as if the world depended on letting you end.
"But… you left me alone when I needed you most." Your voice didn't tremble, but it cracked slightly. "You betrayed me when our love was so close to being crowned. And I suffered. So much. Because of you. And I won't deny it."
Katsuki's hand slipped down, falling to his side. His shoulders hunched. His chest sagged. As if your words had taken away something he'd been trying to hold on to for too long. The air between you grew heavy.
You breathed slowly, and continued.
"I'm with Mirio now." There was no hesitation. There was no lie.
Mirio made no gesture, didn't even move. But his hands relaxed slightly on the steering wheel.
"He's… a great guy." A small, sad smile touched your lips. "He helped me get back on my feet when I didn't know how. He helped me get to where I am now. And… he takes care of our son. Even if he's not his."
Ryota, unaware, continued to play with Katsuki's hand, as if there were no simpler world than this.
Katsuki closed his eyes. For the first time… he listened.
"I want to be with him now. I only want him in my life. I'm sorry..."
The words came out softly, but precisely. They were the truth.
You opened the door and gently lifted Ryota, placing him back in his car seat. The child settled in without crying, without understanding. The routine of his movements contrasted with the immense weight of what was happening.
In that moment, Katsuki closed his eyes.
And collapsed. Collapsed inside.
He took just one step back. One. Small and silent. But it was that step that marked the end. And the most painful part was precisely that: that neither of you tried to stop the other.
Before disappearing into the dim light of the parking lot, Katsuki turned sideways, not toward you, not really...but close to you.
His gaze fell to the ground, as if it were too heavy to lift. "If he… hurts you… there's no place in the world where he can hide from me."
You didn't respond.
He continued walking away from you. You burst into tears. You should have kept the promise you'd made back then, the very day he'd left you: you would never let Katsuki Bakugo get close to you again. Never again. And you'd managed to keep it.