Ok, I can do this. I made a promise to that skinny jean bastard of a hero. All I have to do is try. But why that, of all things? Do I really have to do this? Sure, he said I should try to communicate my thoughts and feelings. Let alone try starting a conversation instead of letting one happen. Yet, why can't I just open the door?

I can clearly hear the old man typing away at his computer behind the study's doors. But yet all I could do was just stand here. I could feel my body shaking as it became difficult to breathe. It didn't help that I could feel my nails digging into my skin as I tightened my fist. And why the hell am I crying?

It's just the old man. He's nothing like the hag. I have nothing to worry about. It's not like he'll hit me or yell. Heck, he's almost always calm and quiet. But the rare times he did raise his voice or harden his tone, I was always left in fear. Yet, right now, what would be the possibility of such a thing happening?

What if I'm interrupting his work? That's the one rule in this house that has never changed. When dad is working in his study, I am not allowed inside. I am not supposed to disturb him. But it's Friday. I know he doesn't work tomorrow. I know he should be off the clock by now. Yet, maybe I should wait till dinner time.

No! I can't do that. The old hag would be home by then. And I would miss my one chance to ask him. But why is it so hard to just lift up my arm and knock on the door? I technically won't be going in if I just knock. He can easily tell me that he's busy. At that, would that small action be considered me trying? I just have to knock and get it done with. But I just can't get myself to move.

As the tears ran down my face, I tried to keep quiet. What if my hiccupping is too loud and distracts dad? He will get mad at me. I don't want that. I can easily deal when the old hag gets angry. Especially since I already know the drill. If she's not in the same room as me, I have a faint chance of running to my room. But if I can't, I just have to keep my head down and take whatever happens. Yet, with dad, I never know how to respond. It's so random and rare that it's more terrifying than mom's anger.

That's it! I can't take it anymore! As I try to get my body to start moving away, the door opens. "Katsuki?"

Crap! He heard me. "I'm sorry." Before I could get a chance to run away, I felt my body being wrapped in warmth.

"It's ok. It's ok. Shh." I could feel my back being rubbed as dad's voice tried to soothe me. "You did nothing wrong." A few moments went by as I tried my best to stop crying. When I'm just left in soft hiccups, the old man pulls away so that I can see his face. "Did you need something, kiddo?"

Before I could even speak, dad pulled me into his office and had me sitting on one of the sofas. "I hope I didn't disturb your work."

"Nonsense. I wasn't doing anything important. Is there something you wanted to ask?" I quickly nodded my head. "What is it, kiddo?"

I tried to brace myself as I straightened up to look at my dad's face. "Can we spend time together tomorrow? Just you and me?" I watched as his face went into that big smile of his. Something about whenever he had that smile always made me happy. And right now, I really needed it.

"Of course, we can. Is there anything you want to do?"

"I don't know. I wasn't sure if you would have agreed."

Dad placed a hand on my cheek as I watched his smile turn sad. I hated that smile. It always felt like I was the one who made him sad. Especially after I would try so hard at everything. "You know I could never say no to you." That was a lie. The old man had said no plenty of times. Even on days when I knew he would have had time to spend with me.

I quickly looked away. "Can we make clothes together? Or cook?" I wish I could ask about a camping trip. But those had to be planned months in advance. All because of his job and my school schedule.

"How about both?"

…

Come Saturday morning, I made sure to wake up extra early. Since I knew dad always woke at 4 a.m., no matter what day of the week it was. Once I went through my usual Saturday morning routine, I went to the basement. That old man's mornings were always the same. He worked out, showered, and then cooked breakfast. Anything after that depended on whether he worked or not.

Once I got to our gym, I sat by the wall next to the door. This was another one of those things that went along with not disturbing the old man. Working out is just the same as his work in the study. It takes a lot of focus and energy. I knew my old man's routine down to memory. He would work out for about an hour before taking a 10-minute shower. And since he always prepped the night before, cooking didn't take much time.

If one step of his routine was ruined, the quiet man of a father I knew became someone else. Sometimes even the hag's rampage would seem like child play. I would rather deal with the hag's nagging and whenever she was angry.

As I watch dad finish his set of pull-ups, my thoughts wander to the clothes I recently bought. What would he think of them? Would he even approve of some of the things I got? Not like either of my parents ever told me I couldn't dress a certain way. But they sure made it clear I had to keep a certain image. After all, being a son of people in the fashion industry, people do tend to judge what we wear. Along with being judged on how we carry ourselves.

I'm glad I had my headphones and phone with me. Watching the old man work out was boring. But I couldn't join because it would set him off. Yet, instead of going on VTube, I started to set up a few profiles on those apps everyone from class was on. I'm still not sure if I should do this. Maybe if I kept my account private, it wouldn't matter as much. Oh! I could ask Best Jeanist more about this. Since he is all about image and is a model.

As the old man got everything ready to make breakfast, is when the hag showed up. I watched as she hugged dad from the back before saying good morning. "The grocery list is next to your purse."

"I'll grab those on the way home. Any fabric samples you like me to look out for?" Watching my parents talk amongst themselves like this was just gross. Whenever they were affectionate in front of me, it felt weird to look at. The way the old hag would hug the old man and drop kisses on his back. Sometimes if I didn't look away fast enough I would witness them kissing.

"What the fuck."

At that, the old hag looked over at me. She still hugged dad, and had a smile. Well, thankfully, that meant she was in a good mood. "Do you want anything while I'm out running errands, brat?"

Is this another chance to practice what my hero mentor advised? Maybe I should give it a shot. Probably with something small that I know mom wouldn't get angry about. "Some of my favorite spicy chips? If not, maybe a new hot sauce to try?"

I then watched as the hag unwrapped herself from the old man and walked over to the table. Why was I getting nervous as I watched her sit down? She didn't have any signs of being mad, upset, or even happy. In fact, she had this neutral expression that scared me to no end. I could never tell how a conversation was going to go when she held that face. "Are you speaking about that new hero chili sauce that recently came out?" I quickly nod my head. "I see why not. Maybe you and Masaru could use it in tonight's dinner." That is when she smiled.

…

After the hag left, it was just me and the old man. "Did you have any clothes project you had in mind, Katsuki?"

I looked at dad as I wondered what I should do. There was always trying to finish that one project I started during spring break. But there was also wanting to attempt to tell him about the clothes I bought. Well, if it's just us, maybe I could try that thing Best Jeanist started telling me about. "I told you how I went to the mall last weekend?"

"Yeah. Did you buy anything? Would like my help adjusting anything to fit better? Or is it that you want help using whatever you bought for the project you started on?"

I just started walking to my room. Thankfully dad was right behind me. I still wasn't sure about this. But maybe it'll be better if I just showed him. When we reached my bedroom door, I turned to face him. "Wait here. I'll go grab it." I entered my room and closed my door. I couldn't risk him learning of my secret hiding place.

I went about my closet and pulled out the bags from that store. Sorting through everything, I made sure to put back the makeup and jewelry. I even put back the stuff I got from the female section. I'm not sure how my parents would react to that. So I'll play it safe for now. Once I was sure everything was hidden in place, I grabbed the few items and left my room. "What do you think?" I handed the old man the clothes.

I couldn't tell what he was thinking as he held each item. As I watched him look at the ripped jeans, I started to feel nervous. These were so out of my usual that I wasn't sure if he would approve. "The material seems like the kind that you tend to complain that it's itchy. Do want help making this style in a different fabric?" Is that it? Was that all he was going to say? He's not mad that the jeans were ripped up and not uniformed. "Now, about the fishnet shirt."

"I'm sorry. I'll get rid of it right away." I went to try to get it back from dad, but he held out his hand.

"Katsuki, calm down. Let me finish speaking." I leaned against my door as I kept my head low. This can't be good. I knew it. I'm in trouble. When he tells the old hag, I won't hear the end of it. What if I won't be allowed to buy clothes on my own anymore? Or worse! The only clothes I will be allowed is whatever they get me. "Katsuki!"

I quickly looked up. It was then that I realized that I was having trouble breathing. And how tears were running down my face. "Yes, sir."

"Katsuki," I looked at dad's face. I wasn't sure what expression he had. But all I knew was that I felt frozen in place. This was a bad idea. "I was trying to ask if you had any idea of an outfit for this shirt. Was there an outfit you got inspired by? Plus, I'm not sure about this fabric. Or how large the mesh is. Would you like to buy a new fishnet shirt together after you tell me what you had planned with it?"

I reached out my shaky hand to grab the shirt back. But the old man kept it out of reach. What could I say to get it back? This was a bad idea, and now it was too late to take it all back. What should I say? "I… Um…" I took a deep breath before looking up at dad. "I need to think about it. Can I get the shirt back until I figure it out?"

I watched as dad let out a sign before handing me the shirt. "I'll wait for you in the sewing room so we can work on the jeans." I simply nodded my head. Once he left down the stairs, I ran into my room and locked my door.

After hiding the shirt, I went and grabbed my All Might doll. I couldn't help but scream into him. What is wrong with me?

…

When I got into the sewing room, I spotted dad looking at a few spare fabrics he had. It's not unheard of that he would have all sorts of fabrics. Especially when he had to make last-minute adjustments on his off days. Or whenever he would have some free time and wanted to make something for all of us. He was, after all, the one who designed my winning dresses for the beauty pageant. "I'm here."

I walked over to where the old man was standing. "Since this is for you. How about you pick what fabric you want to use."

As dad showed me how to make a pattern for the jeans, it was quiet between us. When it came to these things, there was no need to speak. It was nice to do stuff like this with him. I just wish it didn't start the way it did. Not like the old man wouldn't have invited me to work on clothes with him. But it was the first time I asked him.

We finished the base for the jeans just in time for lunch. While we went about setting up for lunch, I expected it would be quiet between us. But I was wrong. "So, you decided to do your internship with Best Jeanist. How is that going for you?"

"It's alright. Very annoying."

"Oh. How so, kiddo?"

"He keeps talking nonsense and messes with my hair. And when we go on patrol, it's so boring."

"So, he's the reason for the new hairstyle. Me and your mother thought it looked good on you. But I understand. Your hair is just one of the things that you're proud of." I quickly turned around and pointed a figure at the old man.

"You and the hag been making fun of me, too!"

He just shook his head. "We aren't making fun of you. Why would we? You look great in just about everything. So, we're just enjoying seeing our son trying new things." The old man then placed the vegetables on the corner. So, I started cutting away.