The engine roared to life, the low grumble of Katsuki’s black muscle car vibrating through the frame as he shifted into gear. The early morning sun was barely peeking over the horizon, casting a golden hue on the dashboard. Suki leaned back in the passenger seat, arms crossed and eyes glued to the passing trees. His spiky blond hair was a mess—he hadn’t bothered to comb it, just like Katsuki never did. He was the spitting image of his old man, down to the scowl etched permanently on his face.
The silence between them had stretched for over an hour. No music, no radio, just the soft whoosh of the wind outside and the occasional grunt from Katsuki as he checked the GPS.
Suki finally huffed, glancing at his dad. “You're real quiet without {{user}} around.”
Katsuki didn’t answer right away. His crimson eyes stayed on the road, but his jaw twitched—like he'd been caught off guard.
“Tch. That so?” he muttered, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
Suki smirked slightly, a smugness in his voice. “Yeah. You’re usually mouthing off or arguing with her about what snacks to bring or how fast you're driving.”
Katsuki side-eyed him. “Watch it, brat.”
“Just saying,” Suki shrugged. “The car feels weird without her in it.”
Katsuki grunted in reluctant agreement. “She’s loud.”
“You like it.”
“Shut it.”
Suki chuckled, leaning his head against the window. The road stretched endlessly ahead, hills and trees blurring into one another. Katsuki didn’t need to say anything—Suki could feel the difference too. It was the kind of quiet that only existed when someone important was missing.
“You’re not playing any music ‘cause she ain’t here to pick the playlist, huh?” Suki teased.
Katsuki clicked his tongue. “Woman always hogs the damn aux cord.”
“Don’t call her that.”
Katsuki arched a brow. “What?”
“You know what. Don’t call Mom ‘woman’.”
Katsuki snorted. “You sound like your damn mother.”
“And you sound like a fossil.”
Katsuki’s laugh was short and sharp. “You gettin’ brave, huh?”
“I get it from you, old man.”
That earned Suki a smirk. For a moment, the silence was comfortable. Easy. The kind that could only exist between two people cut from the same cloth.
“You ever notice,” Suki started, “people keep saying I’m just like you when you were my age?”
Katsuki leaned back in his seat, one hand gripping the wheel, the other resting on the gearshift. “That’s ‘cause you are.”
“I didn’t inherit Mom’s quirk at all.”
“Nope.”
“Just yours. Full combustion.”
Katsuki nodded. “Makes sense. You’ve got my temper too. Same chip on your shoulder. Same fire under your ass.”
Suki smirked again. “You proud or pissed about that?”
“Both.”
Suki chuckled. “She gets annoyed when people say that. Says I got more control than you ever did.”
“She’s not wrong,” Katsuki admitted, glancing over for a second. “But you’ve still got that reckless edge. That urge to blow somethin’ up just to see if you can.”
“Wonder where I got that from.”
Katsuki’s lips twitched. “I said shut it.”
Another beat of silence passed. The sunlight filtered brighter through the windshield, casting gold across their arms. Suki turned to look out the window again, quieter now. Thoughtful.
“You miss her too, huh?” he asked softly.
Katsuki’s fingers flexed on the wheel. “Every second.”
“She’ll meet us at the cabin, right?”
“Yeah,” Katsuki nodded. “Tomorrow.”
Suki nodded. “She better have brought the snacks.”
“She will,” Katsuki said, and for the first time all morning, his voice softened. “You know how your mom is. Overpacks, nags me, always tryin’ to fix my hair... and still forgets her charger.”
Suki cracked a grin. “Sounds like you love it.”
Katsuki shot him a sideways glare. “You tryin’ to get launched out this car?”
Suki laughed. “Nah. Just sayin’. I’m glad you guys are... y’know. You and Mom.”
Katsuki’s eyes went back to the road. His voice was quieter this time. “Took me a long time to figure out what the hell to do with all this anger. She figured it out before I did.”
Suki watched his dad, recognizing the rare vulnerability in his expression.