#self-worth issues

"Sure," he forces out when Yamada looks at him with a little furrow between his brows and Hitoshi already knows that he's not going to sleep in that room anymore.

She needs to get used to her new space and it's best if she does that with as little distractions as possible. Plus he won't be allowed to speak to her anyway and if they break out a muzzle to make sure of that she might get frightened and Hitoshi still has nightmares sometimes so—no.

He can't sleep in her room but he knows from experience that the couch is comfy enough and Yamada said it wouldn't be for too long.

They must have already contacted CPS to dissolve whatever kind of fostering contract they have for him and it will only be until that's done.

Hitoshi can spend a few nights on the couch, he slept way rougher for way longer after all.

"Shouta will tell you a bit more about her circumstances later, and what actions to avoid with her, seeing as she's had it—rough for most of her life."

He winces when he says it and it only helps a tiny little bit to know that he's not being replaced for nothing. At least she really does need nice people in her life.

It's a hollow comfort.

"'s fine," he mutters, getting back to cutting up the vegetables just like Yamada wants them and a distant part of him wonders why he's even still trying.

It's already a done deal after all.

~*~*~

Hitoshi manages to avoid detection for two nights. He sets his alarm super early to erase every trace of sleeping on the couch and by the time Yamada comes out of the bedroom he's already pouring over what will be on the next exam even though he won't be there to take it.

He knows that he won't be allowed to stay in the hero course or at UA at all—the fact that he got in and his previous family allowed him to was a fluke and there's no way in hell Hitoshi gets that lucky again.

He'll probably be moved too far out to attend this school again, possibly even by design so that Aizawa and Yamada don't have to look at him any more and that's—Hitoshi will live.

It was a pipe dream to begin with and he always knew that.

He doesn't get so lucky on the third night though, because Aizawa stumbles out of the bedroom half an hour before Hitoshi's alarm goes off and Hitoshi is a light enough sleeper that he wakes up to find Aizawa staring at him in apparent shock.

"Why are you not in your room?" he asks, clearly confused and Hitoshi bites back the instinctual correction.

It's her room now; he doesn't know why Aizawa pretends otherwise.

Hitoshi doesn't have a good answer other than that though so he simply shrugs and Aizawa shakes his head as if he needs to clear it.

"Hitoshi, if you don't want to share with her for the time being you could have said," Aizawa goes on as he shuffles towards the kitchen. "We could have cleared out the office in that case, we just figured it would be too much work to do that now and then pack everything up again when we move. But if you're not comfortable with her in your room, then you can say that."

Aizawa isn't looking at him as he speaks, so Hitoshi has no chance to look for the tiny tells Aizawa has when he's lying but—

He knows he is anyway.

"It's fine," Hitoshi says, fiddling with the blanket in his lap because he hadn't even considered that they would move.

Maybe he isn't being transferred too far away and they want to make sure that he doesn't know where they live anymore because they wouldn't want to see him again after they got rid of him.

"Doesn't seem fine to me," Aizawa says, leaning against the counter, his arms crossed in front of his chest and even though the apartment is still the same comforting home, it's no longer home.

Not even the by now so familiar gurgle of the coffee machine can change that.

"I should start packing soon," Hitoshi says, doesn't quite dare to make it a question anymore because rules change with tiny children in the house.

Aizawa and Yamada might have been lax before when it came to that but with her in the picture now—he's nothing more than a threat.

"You can but it might still take a while," Aizawa says with a sigh and Hitoshi notices the displeased line around his mouth.

CPS is not working fast enough to dissolve this placement or maybe they can't find another home that would take him. Hitoshi probably should tell him that they need to contact a group home because otherwise they'll never be rid of him, but he can't find his voice to do that.

If they don't know that, he gets a few more nights here and Hitoshi is selfish enough to take them.

"Okay," he nods and resolves to start packing as soon as she's out of her room.

He should have done it the first day she arrived, but Hitoshi has been hurting and it's made him stupid.

He didn't know that a reprieve as short as this would make his pain tolerance that low and he already fears what it's going to take to build it up again.

Hitoshi used to be better than this, he used to be indifferent to new placements but then again—no one has been as nice to him as Aizawa and Yamada have so maybe it's just normal that he forgot all about how to not get attached.

But it's undeniable that he is and it's only biting him in the ass now.

He should have known better. He was stupid to trust, to believe, to hope.

But his new family will make sure he remembers, Hitoshi is certain of that. Aizawa and Yamada have been the first outlier in ten years and Hitoshi doesn't have another ten years in the system to find another.

~*~*~

He finds them studying house listings one evening and it's stupid, it's so fucking stupid but it just blurts out of him because he's a dumb kid who never learns.

"Please don't make me go," Hitoshi says, begs them almost, and he knows it's stupid, it's so goddamn stupid because CPS is already informed and there's nothing that can be done about that anymore but—

He doesn't want to go, he likes this apartment, these men who were kind to him and he hoped he could have—well.

A family has never been in his life, he knew that since he was six and it's so incredibly foolish of him to not have learned his lesson but that's just him.

Stupid, till the end of times, and it's no wonder that everyone is so eager to get rid of him.

"Go? Hitoshi, kiddo, you're not going anywhere," Yamada says and for a moment, for a split second, Hitoshi dares to feel reassured and then reality hits him.

They are going to leave him here, like an unwanted piece of furniture you don't want to bring into your nice, new home and really, Hitoshi should have expected nothing less.

CPS is working too slowly after all and the girl needs a stable home, so it's just logical to go and leave Hitoshi behind.

It's—almost nice, in a way, because at least like that he still has some familiar walls but then he realises how stupid he's being yet again because—

"I can't afford this apartment," Hitoshi mutters and he's pretty sure that no one is going to employ a stupid sixteen-year-old with no experience and this apartment can't be cheap.

There's no way he's going to be able to get enough money to pay for it, even for a month.

"Afford this—kid, what are you talking about?" Aizawa asks and Hitoshi keeps his gaze on the floor because it's safer than to look at them.

"You just said it, I'm not going anywhere, and it's nice of you, really, that you don't want to drop me on the streets but—I don't have the money to pay for this."

He doesn't even need to look, he can practically hear the long look Aizawa and Yamada are exchanging and he wonders what they could possibly be trying to communicate.

They all know what's going to happen, and soon, and there's no need to beat around the bush anymore.

Yamada already said that Hitoshi is not going to go with them, after all.

"Kid, sit," Aizawa says and it's not an order at all.

In fact, his voice is just as soft as when he speaks to the girl and instantly Hitoshi's eyes burn.

He would really rather have them yell at him, because this last act of kindness might just break him once he gets to his new family.

Still, he does what Aizawa told him to do because what else is there for him to do but obey and for a moment, there's a terrible silence in the room.

"Why don't you tell us what you think is going on, and then we tell you what we think is going on and then we can all be on the same page again, huh?" Yamada says, and he too is kinder than Hitoshi probably deserves, so the least he can do is answer his question.

"You're taking in a new kid and that means I have to go. You're looking for a new apartment so I won't be able to find you again and you're just waiting for CPS to dissolve this foster agreement. They are working too slow though, so you're going to move without me so you can start your family as soon as possible," Hitoshi dutifully rattles off and he doesn't let himself be deterred by the pained gasp he hears.

"That is not at all what's happening," Aizawa says, his voice as steady and reassuring as it usually is but it's not reassuring to Hitoshi at all right now because what he says makes no sense.

"You brought home a girl," Hitoshi mutters. "A girl with a quirk that isn't—mine. I know how this goes."

It's the third time it happens after all and Hitoshi might be stupid, but he's not stupid enough to not see the pattern.

"Hitoshi, has this happened before? That a family found another kid they thought was better than you?" Aizawa wants to know and Hitoshi shrugs.

"Well, found is—not quite right. My parents just waited until my sister's quirk came in to decide who to keep."

There's a deafening silence in the room after that and Hitoshi rushes to go on.

"But the second time—yeah. That foster family wasn't quite so bad and I thought it could—well, they found a sweet little girl who was nothing like me and gave me back."

"Gave you back?" Yamada repeats as if Hitoshi hadn't been clear but he feels the need to explain anyway.

"To CPS. They dropped me off at their doorstep, but it was a weekend and there wasn't anyone to deal with me. And I'm grateful you're not going to do the same, I really am, but like I said, I can't pay for this apartment," he brings them back to their original point though he knows it's useless when Aizawa lets out a long, measured breath.

"Hitoshi, will you look at me?" Aizawa then asks and Hitoshi blinks a few times to make sure that he's not going to burst into tears the moment he does but eventually, he raises his head.

Aizawa looks almost crestfallen and Hitoshi doesn't even dare to look over to Yamada because he can hear him sniffle and this is not right, this is all not right but he doesn't know what to do to fix it.

"Hitoshi, we're not going to give you back," Aizawa says and his voice is strong and firm and he's keeping eye contact and there is none of the tells he usually has and Hitoshi is confused.

"But you brought a girl with you," he mumbles because her presence in this apartment is undeniable even if he did his best to stay out of her way, so she wouldn't notice a difference once he's gone.

Kids with trauma need a stable environment, he heard that somewhere before or maybe someone said that to him, and he wanted to give her that despite everything.

"And we should have discussed that more with you but we were pressed for time and then we simply fucked up," Aizawa sighs out and Hitoshi blinks because Aizawa never swears. "You're both going to stay with us. We're going to be your parents and we're going to be Eri's parents. We're not going to choose between you two, you're both going to be our kids."

Hitoshi knows that adoption was a consideration for them because they asked him if he would want that but that was before the girl and Hitoshi hadn't dared to think about it again, but this—this sounds as if they still want to do that.

"But that's not—how that goes," Hitoshi weakly argues even though he desperately wants that to be how it goes and Yamada leans forward, into Hitoshi's line of sight.

Just like he feared, there are tears in his eyes and Hitoshi doesn't know how to fix it.

"Kiddo, we love you and we're not going to simply drop you. I'm sorry that happened to you before, I'm sorry you had to go through that two more times than any kid really should, but we're not going to do the same. You're our son and Eri is going to be our daughter and neither of you is going to be more important than the other."

"Right now, Eri needs a bit more of our time because everything is so new to her, but that doesn't change the fact that we love you, too. We love you the same amount and nothing is going to change that."

"But—I'm not like her," Hitoshi tries to argue, though he's not sure why.

"No, you're not," Aizawa agrees. "And she is not like you. And both of these things are okay, kid."

"I don't—understand," Hitoshi admits because this is not how this goes and Aizawa leans around the table to pull him into a loose hug.

"I know, kid, and we're sorry. We really should have talked this over with you more, that's on us, and we apologise. But you're going to stay with us. We're not choosing between you and we're definitely not giving you away or back or simply leaving you here. None of that is going to happen."

"The new apartment—"

"Look," Yamada says and pushes the laptop more towards Hitoshi. "We're looking for four bedroom apartments or houses. One bedroom for us, one for you and one for Eri and one we can use as an office. You both deserve to have your own space after all and we will need to work from home more."

"You planned for me?" Hitoshi's voice comes out shaky and weak and Aizawa tightens his arm around him.

"Of course we planned for you. We're always planning for you because you're our son and you're a part of this family."

It's enough to make the tears spill over because it's everything Hitoshi has ever wanted and was sure he wouldn't get once Eri showed up but Aizawa sounds so certain and there was zero hesitation to his answer and maybe, just maybe for once in his life Hitoshi can be lucky.

Lucky enough to keep this family and maybe even get to know what it's like to have a sister.

(And he does. He understands Eri better than the grown-ups sometimes because even though their experiences were different, a fucked-up childhood is a fucked-up childhood and it helps, that he can relate to her.

Harry’s hand on his chin—fought it on instinct and lost. Gulped a bit, miserably, at the determination on Harry’s face. “Silly creature,” he said in a thick voice. “You deserve all the loveliness. You—no, you absolute goose, look at me. This is our life now. You and me, do you hear? We’ll get the house and we’ll be so fucking happy in it, together, and I won’t—I’ll never let you forget just how much loveliness you deserve. Draco, it’s all of it.”

Whimpered, fought to be released, to bury his face in Harry’s jumper and never have to see him again, pretend he didn’t hear the words. In his heart he knew he’ll ruin this too, ruin anything good, and also, in his heart, he knew this: Harry won’t let him. Insufferable Harry, brave and generous and too kind, stupid and loving and gorgeous and soft.

Draco shook, and the smell of the jumper (lemony-sweet and wool) and the warmth of Harry’s skin seeping from under it and the pinch of cold air on his exposed shoulders—this early morning and all of it, all of it, stuffed so tight and humming, incessant, relentless.

“All right,” he surrendered, as always, “all right, enough. We have to—Harry, let go, we have to get ready. The car! We need to pack the car. And the biscuits still need to go in the oven. Please, darling, I have to do this or I’ll drive myself crazy.”

“Er,” Harry grinned. “Crazier.” But he petted Draco’s cheek, once, and took a step back. “You’ve made more biscuits.”

It wasn’t a question. Draco still answered, “Mrs. Tinsberry seemed to like them.”

Laughing: “Sweetheart, she already agreed. You don’t have to try so hard.”

“Of course I do. And it’s not all… I’m not trying to bribe her. I simply—” embarrassment sizzled in his throat, made him cough. Harry, for once, was merciful, and didn’t ask.

“I’ll go pack the car. And make sure we have all the printouts.”

“Thank you. Would you also mind—”

“Boots? Already cleaned. Honestly, love, you don’t need to worry. We’ve got this.”

Something burst inside him, impossibly bright, terribly tender. “Thank you, Harry,” in this rasp of a voice. “You’re—” something he couldn’t put into words. Harry smiled.

“Go on, get the biscuits ready. You already know I will pinch some.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” said Draco, who planned to make a whole tin just for Harry.

With a wink, Harry disappeared behind the door, in his one sock and his face and his hair. Once he managed, Draco turned to the kitchen counter, to the bowls he’d prepared and promptly forgot about.

It was autumn already although it was August. Perhaps every morning is a little bit autumn, this early on: from blinking warmth to fresh, crisp cool, to a hint of something coming, something big. Outside the windows of their little rented flat the shrubs had gone golden-yellow, and the trees up the street had turned, drizzling amber like teardrops onto the pavement.

Autumn came early, and with it this—yearning. For something he knew he shouldn’t have, that he longed for with all of his being. That Harry won’t let him shy away from. Something warm like a jumper and sweet, and too-close and unbearable.

"You promised me ice-cream if I behaved and I did! You said so, so now I'm getting ice-cream," he explains and he thinks maybe his mom was just playing a trick on him, just a little joke and she'll get his ice-cream out any moment now.

"Oh," she says, sounding completely bored and just her tone makes Hitoshi shrink in on himself. "I forgot."

"You—forgot," he repeats but she's not even looking at him anymore, too busy with unpacking the rest of the groceries. "But you promised!"

"Don't be a spoiled brat now," she chastises him and Hitoshi flinches. "It's not a big deal, I'll get it for you next time."

Hitoshi wants to argue, he wants to cry and to rage and to scream, but then his father steps into the room and just one look from him silences Hitoshi and so he slinks back off to his room.

He makes absolutely certain to hide his sobs into his pillow and it doesn't feel good at all when he falls asleep with tear tracks still drying on his cheeks.

And he never even gets his ice-cream.

~*~*~

Hitoshi lingers in the kitchen doorway with the rest of his foster siblings, all of them attentively watching their foster mother unpacking the groceries.

They are all hoping for something; a treat, something sweet, a magazine and—in Hitoshi's case—ice-cream.

Well, hoping is a strong word. Hitoshi knows better than to expect anything. He has learned to accept a while back that it's unlikely he'll get anything, that his caretakers are more likely to forget about him and his wishes than to bring something back for him and it would seem as if today is not that different, either.

The bag is getting emptier and emptier and still, there's nothing.

The one positive thing at least is that apparently neither of them are getting anything.

It's horrible, it unfair and cruel and Hitoshi hates himself for it, but at least he's not the only one being forgotten here.

At least he doesn't have to watch his foster siblings get what they asked for while he's being forgotten and ignored, while he is being punished for nothing.

Here, all of them are the same—worthless and useless and not deserving of getting what they asked for, no matter how polite they were about it.

"But—where are our treats?" one of his younger foster siblings dares to ask and their foster mother whips around to them, her eyes burning.

"You think you deserve anything, you damn leech?" she hisses and Hitoshi knows better than to immediately slink away to their room.

Now that they have gotten her attention, they'll have to endure her ire too and there's no way around that.

They'll have to stand here for the next twenty minutes at least, so she can berate them and yell at them and call them stupid and dumb and demanding and Hitoshi tunes her out for all of it.

He's fourteen now, and even though he would never admit it he's still waiting for that ice-cream his mother promised him when he was five.

But he knows better by now. He's not deserving of that.

~*~*~

Hitoshi unsurely lingers in the doorway, carefully watching Yamada unpack their groceries.

It's stupid; he's too old to still be hoping for something that is never going to happen and yet, Hitoshi can't help himself.

He's standing there, tracking Yamada's movements with eagle eyes, just in case he does unearth Hitoshi's ice-cream.

Which he doesn't.

Yamada pulls the last item out of the bag and there's no ice-cream to be seen and Hitoshi really shouldn't be crushed by that realisation but he can't help himself.

He's still stupid and still too damn hopeful for his own good and yet again it leads to nothing but the feeling of his heart getting crushed right in his chest.

And to make matters worse, Yamada turns around and notices him.

"Whatcha doing there, buddy?" he cheerfully asks and that just makes it worse.

He doesn't even realise that he didn't get Hitoshi the promised ice-cream, he doesn't seem to remember that he and Aizawa asked him what he wanted right before going out and then promised him he'd bring the ice-cream with them.

"Nothing," Hitoshi mutters and shuffles on his feet.

Yamada doesn't really seem to believe him because he starts to frown and Hitoshi is apparently nothing but a glutton for self-punishment because he takes a breath and says "You promised me ice-cream."

His voice is barely audible in the room and he's not facing Yamada, so he can't even read his lips to understand him but he must have heard anyway, because there's a dramatic gasp and then Yamada whirls back around to the counter.

"Shou!" he yells out and Hitoshi flinches, before he presses himself to the doorway, so that he isn't in Aizawa's way when he comes in.

Which he does about three seconds later, an annoyed look on his face and Hitoshi shrinks back even further.

He really shouldn't have said anything.

"Where's the kiddo's ice-cream?" Yamada asks, riffling through the groceries as if it would magically pop up but Hitoshi already knows that it's not there.

He watched Yamada unpack like a hawk after all.

"What are you on about, it's right—" Aizawa starts and then trails off, his gaze far off as he seems to recall something. "Oh no," he finally whispers and something cold and heavy settles in Hitoshi's gut.

They forgot.

"'Oh no'?" Yamada repeats and Aizawa grimaces.

"I was right there at the ice-cream isle but then I remembered that Hitoshi never told me what flavour he wanted and I got out my phone to call and ask, but then Tsukauchi called and I just—forgot."

"You forgot our son's ice-cream," Yamada repeats and his voice is dangerously low.

Low enough that the hairs on the back of Hitoshi's neck rise and he needs to diffuse this situation right now or he'll be punished for causing a rift between them.

"That's understandable," he says, because he can't quite bring himself to say 'That's fine' and both of his guardians look at him.

"That's not fine," Yamada finally hisses as if he heard Hitoshi’s unspoken words anyway and glares at Aizawa again. "Go. Now!"

Hitoshi expects Aizawa to protest; he just came back, it's too hot outside to make unnecessary errands, it's not that important anyway but to his surprise Aizawa just nods and turns towards Hitoshi.

"What flavour do you want?"

It makes Hitoshi freeze up because no one has ever asked him that and the last time he had ice-cream was so long ago he can't even remember the flavour and so he doesn't know what to ask for.

"I—it doesn't matter," he finally settles on and he hates how Aizawa's face falls so he quickly looks to the ground. "You don't have to go out for that again."

"Oh no, I do," Aizawa says, at the same time Yamada says "Oh no, he does," and apparently that's that.

"Any is good?" Hitoshi weakly offers, suddenly too ashamed to admit that he doesn't even know what ice-cream is supposed to taste like anymore but Yamada must notice it anyway because he nods as if he understood something Hitoshi hasn't even said in the first place.

"Shou, get one of those tubs with all three basic flavours," he instructs and Aizawa nods once before he leaves without another word.

It's strange, and new, and nerve-wrecking, and scary as fuck and when Hitoshi finally, finally gets the ice-cream he's been after for ten years now, he definitely doesn't sob into it.

~*~*~

Hitoshi lets out a wail as he flops over the kitchen table.

"Christ, lower your fucking volume, would you," Katsuki snaps at him, which of course only prompts Hitoshi to wail even louder.

"The hell is your problem?" Katsuki yells against Hitoshi's noise and he stops, for the sake of forcing out one fake tear.

"You didn't get me my ice-cream," he sobs out and bites back a smile when Katsuki rolls his eyes so hard, his head moves with the motion.

"You can shove your fucking ice-cream up your ass," he grumbles, turning away from Hitoshi again, who wails again, just for good measure, in case Katsuki hadn't heard him the first two times.

"But you promised! You said you'd get some for me!"

"Never did that," Katsuki refutes and unpacks the last of the groceries. "I said I'd make sure you'd have it."

Now Hitoshi frowns.

"That's what I said."

"Nu-uh, it's not the same," Katsuki all smugly says and then lets out an aggrieved sigh when Hitoshi wobbles his lower lip. "I really need to have a word with Yamada, you did not need to inherit his dramatics," Katsuki mumbles and even though it's been years since Yamada and Aizawa adopted him, it still makes something warm and fuzzy bubble up inside of Hitoshi's chest when they are referred to as his parents so casually.

When it's insinuated that they truly are related.

"I learned them from the best," Hitoshi agrees, because he did and he waits just until Katsuki's face goes all soft before he puts on a mask of hurt and misery again. "But you're not the best. Because you leave me ice-cream-less."

"I did no such thing," Katsuki replies and when he moves past the table to their fridge, he pats Hitoshi's head in that way they both love but would never admit to and then he unceremoniously opens the freezer. "I hit up a delivery service and scheduled a bi-weekly ice-cream delivery. You'll never run out of ice-cream ever again."

For a moment Hitoshi can do nothing but stare.

There's an entire drawer stuffed with his ice-cream and if what Katsuki is said is true, then it'll never be empty ever again and just like that, Hitoshi's eyes burn with tears.

He got past all of the hurt of never getting what he wanted or asked for with Aizawa and Yamada, because they always made sure to listen to him and to get him what he wanted—within reason of course—and so by now Hitoshi knows that joking around with Katsuki like this is fine and he never thought he forgot his ice-cream on purpose but this?

This is so much more than Hitoshi could have ever hoped for.

Apparently, though, his silence has lasted for too long, because Katsuki slowly closes the freezer again and his expression is suddenly unreadable.

"Sorry if it's too much," he mutters and Hitoshi is at his side a second later.

He might be the one with the more obviously fucked up childhood, but that doesn't mean that Katsuki isn't without his insecurities and hurts either and coming off too strong when he was just trying to be thoughtful and caring is one of the many fears he still has more often than Hitoshi would like, especially in cases like this.

"It's not, angel," Hitoshi mutters and gathers Katsuki up in his arms. "It's exactly right, I just needed a second to not burst into tears," Hitoshi honestly tells him and Katsuki immediately relaxes against him.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I love you, too."

Katsuki doesn't say it, not verbally, not ever, for reasons Hitoshi isn't yet entirely sure of, but he shows it.

He shows it so often, his every action practically screams his love for Hitoshi and Hitoshi has gotten good at hearing it.

"Go stuff your face with unhealthy shit and don't be all sentimental like that," Katsuki grumbles but he's the one to pull Hitoshi into a kiss and he's the one who gets out the ice-cream and a spoon and he's the one who doesn't even explode Hitoshi's head off when he eats the ice-cream straight out of the tub.

Yeah, Hitoshi damn well hears how much he's loved and the taste of the ice-cream melting on his tongue only drives that point home even more.

Series on AO3

Summary: