This might be hard and I apologize for that but Tarantism with Inko?
Tarantism - The urge to overcome melancholy with dancing
ngl I had Lorde’s Liability playing in the background while writing this.6:32 pm
Hi, mom. Sorry for the last minute warning, but I can’t make it home today. School’s been really busy and I have a bunch of homework due in the next week. I’ll call you later. Love you, mom.
Inko puts on a tired smile, a sprout of pride blossoming deep within her heart. Her baby boy, working so very hard at reaching for his dreams and doing his best. She’s happy. She’s supposed to be, right?
So why was there a dull ache deep within her heart?
She places the feather duster back in the broom closet, exchanging it for the tall wooden broom she’s grown accustomed to using around the house, hanging on the back of the door. As she shuts the broom closet, her mind wanders off, a melody long forgotten replaying in her mind as she idly moves the broom side to side.
She was twenty-three when she first met him, not too tall, not too short. Eyes sparkling under the moonlight as he dragged her through the night, nothing but the moon, the stars above and the lights around the pier surrounding them. He’d tried to steal the giant prized stuffed monkey from one of the game booths at the fair. You know the one: the ones that are always rigged no matter how hard you try to hit the stacked glass bottles behind the carny. They’d been laughing all the way to the very end, catching their breaths as the sounds of the fair are nothing but a distant memory.
He takes her hand and pulls her close, swaying to nothing but the sound of the crashing waves beneath them. Her eyes close, feeling his warmth cover her body as they move one, two, three steps, four, and he twirls her with the biggest, goofiest smile on his face.
She doesn’t realise that there’s someone knocking on the door until she bumps into the coffee table, her shin sending sharp pangs up her nerves as she lets go of the broom a little too quickly, the dust she’d been sweeping up rattled and scattered across the floor. She’d been dancing without her knowing again.
The neighbour only wanted to borrow her vacuum cleaner, of course. She obliged, handing them the appliance before shutting the door again, suddenly realising how quiet the apartment is with just her living in it.
Izuku had always danced with her when he was younger. Small, little hands in her own as she carried him, both of them swaying their way through their home. She’d told him his dad loved taking her dancing, and it was true: she fell in love with him, that night at the pier. Her little baby didn’t want to disappoint, knowing his father’s absence meant he was the man of the house, so he’d grab his mom’s hand and try his best to dance with her.
Nowadays, she only has herself to dance with.
She sways again, eyes closed as she wistfully hums that forgotten melody from that memory she locked away in her heart to herself.
Send me a word and a character and I’ll try my best at a lil’ drabble