Archive of Our Own

The house was too quiet.

It used to be filled with life—Ochaco always found ways to brighten even the dullest of days. Her laughter, her energy, the way she moved through their home as if the air itself bent to her happiness. But now, that warmth was gone, and Katsuki Bakugou was left in a cold, empty space that felt more like a shell of the life they once had.

He sat at the edge of their bed, staring at the empty side where she used to sleep. It had been over a year since the accident, but the weight of her absence still clung to him like an anchor, dragging him deeper into the void she left behind. Her scent still lingered faintly on the sheets, a cruel reminder of what he’d lost.

Katsuki pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, trying to block out the flood of memories. But it didn’t help. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her—smiling, laughing, full of life. She had always been the light in his life, the one person who could break through his walls. Now, she was gone, and he didn’t know how to keep going.

Ochaco had died suddenly, ripped from him in an instant. It was supposed to be a normal day—she was heading to work, same as always. They had kissed goodbye that morning, talking about what they’d do for dinner when she got back. He never thought it would be the last time he’d see her.

A car accident. Some idiot in the wrong lane, speeding, hitting her head-on. She never stood a chance. The doctors said she didn’t suffer, that it had been quick, but that didn’t matter to Katsuki. He hadn’t been there. He hadn’t been able to say goodbye. He hadn’t been able to save her.

Katsuki clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms until the pain forced him to stop. He felt like he was drowning in a sea of guilt and regret, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t swim to the surface. He’d always prided himself on his strength, his ability to push through anything. But this? This was different. Losing Ochaco had broken something inside him that he didn’t know how to fix.

The house had become a prison. Everywhere he looked, he saw her—her shoes by the door, the mug she used to drink her coffee from, the blanket she loved draped over the couch. It was like she was still there, haunting him with every step. But she wasn’t, and that realization hit him like a punch to the gut every time.

Most days, he just went through the motions. He’d get up, go to work, come home, and do it all over again the next day. It was easier that way, to keep himself busy, to not think too much. But no matter how hard he tried, the loneliness was always waiting for him when he got home. The silence was deafening, and there was no escaping it.

"I should have been there," Katsuki whispered to the empty room. It was a thought he had every day. Maybe if he’d been with her, if they’d driven together, if he hadn’t let her go to work that morning, things would be different. But it was all useless now. No amount of ‘what ifs’ could bring her back.

The worst part was that he wasn’t sure he wanted to move on. Ochaco had been everything to him. She saw through his rough edges, understood him in ways no one else ever could. How was he supposed to just let go of that? Of her? The idea of living without her felt impossible, yet here he was, forced to face it every single day.

"I don’t know how to do this without you," he muttered under his breath, as if somehow, speaking it aloud would make it easier to bear. But it didn’t. Nothing ever did. Katsuki Bakugou, who had always been strong, always in control, now felt like a shell of himself. Broken. Empty. Alone.

-----

Katsuki was jolted awake by the shrill ring of his phone vibrating on the nightstand. He groaned, rubbing his eyes and glancing at the clock. Barely past 6 AM. Who the hell was calling him this early? With a heavy sigh, he grabbed the phone, squinting at the screen.

“Izuku...?”

Ochaco's younger brother. The last time Katsuki had seen him in person was at their wedding years ago, a kid still in middle school back then. Since then, Izuku had been studying abroad, and the first time he came back to Japan was for Ochaco's funeral. They'd only exchanged quick greetings over video calls during holidays—awkward, polite, nothing more. Yet Ochaco had always spoken of Izuku with a fondness that never seemed to fade. Despite the ten-year gap between them, she adored her little brother. He had been the apple of their family’s eye.

Katsuki sat up, answering the call with a gruff “Yeah?”

“Katsuki-niisan!” came the familiar, bright voice on the other end of the line. Izuku’s tone was as sunny as ever, instantly reminding him of Ochaco. “Sorry for calling you so early, but I, uh, kind of need a favor.”

Katsuki grunted. “What is it?”

“Um, so… my apartment has a bit of an issue. A water pipe burst in the ceiling, and the landlord says the repairs will take a while. Like, two weeks or more. They’re handling it, but I can’t move in yet.” There was a sheepish chuckle on the other end. “I don’t really know anyone else in Tokyo, so I was wondering if… maybe I could stay with you for a little while?”

Katsuki’s mind blanked for a second. Izuku, living here? In Ochaco’s house? It was already hard enough living in this place with her memory around every corner. And now her brother would be here too?

Katsuki opened his mouth to refuse, but then stopped himself. This was Izuku—Ochaco’s precious little brother. He had never harbored any ill will toward the kid. Besides, Izuku was practically family.

“Yeah, fine,” Katsuki muttered, a bit gruffer than he intended. “I’ll come pick you up at the airport. When’s your flight get in?”

“Oh! Thank you so much, Katsuki-niisan! My flight lands in a couple of hours—around 9 AM.”

Katsuki rubbed his face, trying to shake off the drowsiness. “Fine. I’ll be there.”

“Thanks again! I promise I won’t be a bother.”

“Just be ready. I ain’t waiting around,” Katsuki replied, hanging up before Izuku could say anything more.

He tossed his phone onto the bed and sighed, running a hand through his hair. The idea of someone else living in the house—Ochaco’s house—made his chest tighten. But it was temporary. Two weeks, maybe a little more. He could handle that.

Right?

------

At the airport, Katsuki leaned against his car, arms crossed, scanning the crowd for the familiar mess of green hair. Despite the years apart, Izuku was hard to miss—taller now, lanky but still with that same youthful, wide-eyed look. When Izuku spotted him, his face lit up with a bright, infectious smile.

“Katsuki-niisan!” Izuku waved enthusiastically as he dragged his suitcase over.

Katsuki grunted in reply. “Hurry up. I hate airports.”

Izuku laughed, his voice cheerful. “Still as grumpy as ever, huh? It’s good to see you again.”

“Tch, whatever,” Katsuki muttered, grabbing Izuku’s suitcase and tossing it into the trunk with a huff. “Let’s get outta here.”

As they got into the car, Izuku kept chattering away. “Thanks again for letting me crash at your place. I promise I won’t be too much of a burden. I can cook, clean, whatever you need! I even brought you some snacks from my trip, I know you like—”

“I don’t need you to do anything. Just stay out of my way,” Katsuki interrupted, starting the engine. “It’s not a goddamn vacation.”

Izuku just laughed again, completely unbothered by Katsuki’s gruffness. “Got it, nii-san. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

They drove mostly in silence after that, Katsuki keeping his eyes on the road while Izuku glanced out the window, marveling at how much Tokyo had changed since he’d been away. Every now and then, Izuku would make a comment, trying to spark a conversation, but Katsuki’s answers remained short and clipped.

“So... how’ve you been, Katsuki-niisan?” Izuku asked after a while, his tone a little more careful this time.

Katsuki’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Fine.”

Izuku hesitated but continued. “I know things must’ve been... hard. With nee-chan and all.”

Katsuki felt a lump form in his throat, but he swallowed it down. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

Izuku fell silent after that, and the rest of the drive passed without another word. When they pulled up to Katsuki’s house, Izuku’s eyes widened, and he let out a low whistle.

“Wow, it’s... really nice, Katsuki-niisan. Big place for just you.”

Katsuki grunted in response, popping open the trunk. “You’ll be in the guest room. Don’t touch my shit.”

“Got it!” Izuku said with a grin, hoisting his suitcase out. He followed Katsuki inside, and as soon as they stepped through the door, a strange silence fell over them both. Katsuki’s chest tightened again as memories of Ochaco flooded back—her laughter, her voice, everything.

“Thanks again,” Izuku said softly, breaking the quiet. He glanced around the house, his expression softening. “nee-chan always talked about this place. Said it was perfect.”

Katsuki clenched his jaw and nodded. “Yeah. It was.”

-----

Katsuki didn’t realize how exhausted he was until his head hit the pillow. The house was quiet—almost too quiet—so different from when Ochaco had been alive. Sundays used to be their rest days, spent lounging around, watching TV, or cooking together. Now, it was just him, and the silence that stretched on endlessly.

He drifted off, sinking into the familiar, heavy weight of sleep. And then he heard it.

"Katsuki."

It was soft, a voice that tugged at his memories. His heart skipped a beat. Ochaco? He could see her, smiling at him the way she always did, bright and full of life. Katsuki’s chest ached, and without thinking, he reached out, pulling her close.

“I miss you, 'Chaco,” he whispered against her hair, his arms tightening around her like she might disappear again if he let go.

But something was off. The body in his arms didn’t feel quite right—smaller, slimmer. There was a soft squirm, and a voice cut through his haze.

“K-Katsuki-niisan? Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?”

Katsuki's eyes snapped open. It wasn’t Ochaco in his arms. It was Izuku.

Reality came crashing down like a bucket of cold water, and Katsuki quickly released his hold. He sat up, rubbing his face, trying to push away the remnants of the dream. His heart was still pounding in his chest.

“Sorry,” Katsuki muttered, his voice hoarse. He glanced at Izuku, who stood by the bedside, looking slightly embarrassed but concerned. “I... I thought... never mind.”

Izuku gave a sheepish smile. “I didn’t mean to startle you, nii-san. I just wanted to let you know dinner’s ready. I, uh, made Mapo Tofu. I heard it’s one of your favorites.”

Katsuki blinked, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep and the confusion that came with it. He glanced up, and that’s when it hit him—Izuku was wearing Ochaco’s pink apron, the one she always used in the kitchen. Not only that, but Izuku had tied his unruly green curls back, the way Ochaco used to when she was cooking. The sight of it made Katsuki’s throat tighten, like he was seeing a ghost.

For a moment, he couldn’t speak, couldn’t even process what he was feeling. Then, with a grunt, he got out of bed and followed Izuku to the kitchen.

The smell hit him as soon as they reached the dining table. The familiar aroma of Mapo Tofu wafted through the air, spicy and savory, just the way Ochaco used to make it. Katsuki sat down, staring at the dish in front of him, his chest heavy with a mix of emotions he didn’t want to name.

Izuku beamed, clearly pleased with himself. “I hope it’s okay! It’s a family recipe. Both me and nee-chan were taught vigorously by our mom—she was really strict about it, too,” he chuckled. “We almost cook the same way because of that. Does it suit your taste? Oh, and if you need it spicier, just let me know. I can handle more heat than nee-chan ever could.”

Katsuki picked up his chopsticks, his hand feeling almost foreign as he took a bite. The flavors burst across his tongue—spicy, rich, just like how Ochaco used to make it. For the first time since her passing, he was tasting something that brought her back in a way he hadn’t expected.

It was too much, yet not enough at the same time. He swallowed, the food settling heavily in his stomach. He glanced at Izuku, who was waiting for his reaction with wide, hopeful eyes. Katsuki’s gaze softened despite himself.

“It’s... good,” he admitted, his voice low. “Just like she used to make it.”

Izuku’s face brightened at the compliment. “I’m glad! I wasn’t sure if I’d get it exactly right, but it’s a relief to know it’s close.”

Katsuki took another bite, chewing slowly as he processed everything. It wasn’t just the food—it was Izuku himself. The apron, the way he tied his hair, even the subtle mannerisms that mirrored Ochaco’s. It was uncanny, how similar they were. And yet, as much as it rattled him, it also gave him a strange sense of comfort, like a piece of Ochaco was still here, lingering in the house.

“You don’t have to make everything the same as she did,” Katsuki said after a moment, his tone gruff but not harsh. “If you wanna make it spicier next time, go ahead. I don’t mind.”

Izuku smiled, his eyes twinkling. “Thanks, nii-san. I’ll keep that in mind. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t mess up too much.”

Katsuki shook his head and muttered, “You’re fine. Stop worrying about it.”

They ate in relative silence after that, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Izuku kept glancing at him from time to time, clearly trying to read Katsuki’s mood. And despite the ache in his chest, Katsuki found himself... not entirely displeased. The kid wasn’t Ochaco—he’d never be—but there was something soothing about having him here. Like the house wasn’t as empty as it used to be.

----

A week had passed since Izuku arrived. True to his words, he had taken over the cooking and cleaning without missing a beat. He’d cheerfully explained it was something to keep him busy until his classes started next month, and Katsuki, though initially hesitant, had let it happen. After all, it kept the house alive, almost as if it had a heartbeat again.

Katsuki woke up to the shrill beep of his alarm, signaling another workday. Groaning, he rolled out of bed, his mind already set on skipping breakfast and just grabbing a coffee and sandwich on his way to the office. He had a lot of meetings lined up, and the last thing he wanted was to feel sluggish from a heavy meal.

As he finished dressing, however, he was met with a sight that threw off his entire plan.

Izuku was in the kitchen, bright-eyed and smiling as he placed a steaming cup of coffee on the table alongside a spread of breakfast—fried fish, miso soup, and sautéed vegetables. Everything looked meticulously prepared, with that same careful touch Ochaco used to put into their meals.

“Good morning, nii-san! Here’s your coffee,” Izuku greeted him with that sunny, infectious energy. “I hope you’ll like it.”

Katsuki blinked, momentarily stunned. Breakfast? He hadn’t expected it—hadn’t even wanted it, really—but now that it was there, he couldn’t exactly turn it down. Still, a part of him felt uneasy, like this was too much.

“You really don’t have to do this,” Katsuki said, his voice a bit gruff as he slid into his chair. “You’re a guest, not a live-in maid or somethin’.”

Izuku waved his hand, brushing off the comment. “Nah, I want to. I lost my nee-chan, but at least I’ve got a new nii-san now, right? We’re family. Besides, it makes me feel productive, and... I’m staying here for free, so this is the least I can do.”

Katsuki couldn’t argue with that. He stared down at the meal, his stomach grumbling in spite of himself. It wasn’t like he couldn’t cook for himself—he was perfectly capable—but the warmth and care Izuku put into it felt different. And that word, family... it hit Katsuki in a way he wasn’t expecting.

“How old are you now, anyway?” Katsuki asked, picking up his chopsticks and eyeing the fish.

Izuku chuckled. “Twenty-three.”

“Right. Ten years apart,” Katsuki muttered under his breath, his mind briefly drifting back to how Ochaco had doted on her younger brother, always talking about how much of a handful he’d been but how proud she was of him. It felt strange now—seeing Izuku as an adult, but still carrying that same lightness, that same innocence that reminded him of his sister.

He took a bite, and the flavors were clean and simple. Perfect. Katsuki swallowed, then added gruffly, “It’s good. You don’t gotta overdo it, though. I might come home late tonight. Don’t cook too much for dinner—I might eat out.”

Izuku nodded. “Got it, nii-san. Just let me know if your plans change. I’ll make something lighter.”

Katsuki nodded in return, already mentally shifting gears toward work. He grabbed his bag and headed for the door, his thoughts cluttered with meetings, reports, and the endless grind of his day. But just as he reached for the door handle, Izuku called out behind him.

“Nii-san, wait!” Izuku dashed over, holding out Katsuki’s car keys. “You forgot these.”

Katsuki paused, staring at the keys for a second before taking them from Izuku’s outstretched hand. “Thanks,” he muttered, slightly embarrassed for spacing out.

Izuku smiled warmly, tilting his head. “Take care, and good luck at work today! Don’t overdo it, okay?”

It was the way he said it—the sincerity, the gentleness—that caught Katsuki off guard. For a brief moment, it felt like he was back in time, being sent off by Ochaco in that same familiar tone, that same sweetness. Except it wasn’t her. It was Izuku.

Something in Katsuki’s chest loosened, and without thinking, he reached out to ruffle Izuku’s hair, “Yeah, yeah. See you later, Izuku.”

Izuku beamed, straightening up as Katsuki walked out the door, his usual grumpiness only softened by the warmth lingering in the air.

----

Katsuki dragged himself through the door, his body aching from the long day. Meetings had piled up, and by the time he’d clocked out, he barely had the energy to think about dinner. He had resigned himself to the sad prospect of opening a cup noodle and calling it a night, but as he stepped into the kitchen, a familiar smell greeted him.

On the table was a plate of food, neatly covered with a note resting beside it. Katsuki blinked, picking it up.

“I made your portion thinking you might not have eaten yet, but if you did, just put it in the fridge and save it for tomorrow. Good night, nii-san. Great job today!”

- Izuku -

Katsuki stared at the note for a moment, his heart catching in his throat. The handwriting was slightly messy, but that same warmth, that same thoughtfulness, poured off the page. It’s like they’re cut from the same cloth... he thought. Ochaco was like this too.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the weight on his chest lightened. It wasn’t gone—not completely—but the ache was duller, the sharp edges softened by these small, quiet gestures Izuku had been making since he moved in. Maybe... maybe the thoughtfulness ran in their family.

With a soft sigh, Katsuki reheated the food, the aroma filling the room as he sat down to eat. He took a bite, the flavors bringing a strange sense of comfort. It wasn’t just the food—it was the feeling of being cared for again, of someone looking out for him.

Once he finished, he cleaned up and hesitated for a moment before walking down the hall toward Izuku’s room. He felt a sudden need to say thanks, though he wasn’t sure why it felt so important. Maybe it was because no one had been around to take care of him like this in a long time.

The door to Izuku’s room was slightly ajar. Katsuki gently pushed it open, careful not to make any noise. Inside, the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow on Izuku, who was sprawled out on the bed, his green hair tousled, his face peaceful as he slept.

For a moment, Katsuki just stood there, watching him. Izuku looked so much like Ochaco in that quiet, unguarded moment. The resemblance was almost eerie, but it wasn’t unsettling—it was... calming.

Katsuki leaned against the doorframe, a quiet whisper escaping his lips. “Thank you, Izuku.”

Izuku didn’t stir, completely lost in his dreams. Katsuki took one last look, his heart feeling a little lighter than it had when he’d come home. Without another word, he stepped out of the room, pulling the door gently closed behind him, before heading off to bed.

----

The weekend arrived, and the weather couldn’t have been better—clear skies and a gentle breeze. Katsuki sat on the couch, watching as Izuku lazily flipped through TV channels, looking completely bored. His green hair was a mess, and he sighed every few minutes, sinking deeper into the cushions.

Katsuki's gaze wandered, and he remembered seeing an All Might figurine in Izuku’s room the other day. It sparked a thought. The kid’s probably a fan. There’s a new All Might movie in theaters…

He cleared his throat, catching Izuku’s attention. “Hey, kid. There’s a new All Might movie out. You wanna go?”

Izuku’s entire face lit up, and before Katsuki could blink, Izuku was practically vibrating with excitement. “Are you serious, nii-san? Really?! I’ve been wanting to see that for ages!”

Katsuki smirked, a bit surprised at how easily the kid’s energy spread. “Yeah, yeah. Get ready.”

It didn’t take long before they were out the door and heading to the theater. Izuku was practically bouncing the whole way, talking non-stop about all the All Might trivia Katsuki didn’t even realize he knew. Every little detail, every obscure fact—it was like a floodgate had opened.

During the movie, Katsuki glanced over a few times. Izuku was completely absorbed, eyes wide and glowing like a kid at Christmas. Definitely a nerd, Katsuki thought, amused.

As the credits rolled and they made their way out of the theater, Izuku’s excitement hadn’t waned. He was still babbling away, reenacting scenes with his hands, talking about the animation, the plot, the twists—everything. Katsuki couldn’t help but smile, listening to him ramble on.

Then, suddenly, Izuku’s stomach growled loudly, cutting through his enthusiastic ranting. Katsuki couldn’t hold it in—he laughed, hard and genuine, a sound he hadn’t made in what felt like years. The kind of laugh that made his chest ache from the unfamiliarity of it.

Izuku’s face flushed bright red in embarrassment. “Nii-san! Don’t laugh at me!” he pouted, crossing his arms. “That’s it—you owe me dinner for making fun of me!”

Katsuki wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “Yeah, yeah. What do you wanna eat, huh?”

“Katsudon,” Izuku said immediately, his eyes sparkling like a kid demanding his favorite treat. “And it’s gotta be good.”

Katsuki shook his head with a grin. “Fine, let’s go find a place.”

They ended up at a small, unassuming restaurant—a hole-in-the-wall joint Katsuki had passed by a dozen times but never thought to enter. The smell of fresh katsudon filled the air as they settled in, and Izuku’s eyes were wide with anticipation as the food arrived.

They ate, and for the first time in forever, Katsuki didn’t feel the usual heaviness in his chest. They talked about the movie, about All Might, and Izuku’s passion was so contagious that Katsuki found himself genuinely enjoying the conversation. As Izuku rambled on, Katsuki realized something—he hadn’t thought about Ochaco once all day. Not when they were watching the movie, not when they were talking, not even now.

The familiar weight of grief that usually hung over his head felt lighter, like a fog that was starting to clear.

“Thanks for today, nii-san,” Izuku said suddenly, looking up at him with a smile. “I had a lot of fun.”

Katsuki met his gaze and for a moment, didn’t know what to say. He just nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, me too.”

They finished their meal, and as they walked back to the car, Katsuki felt something stir in his chest—a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time. He didn’t know exactly what it was, but for now, he let it be.

----

Izuku had settled into Katsuki’s home so effortlessly that the thought of him leaving hadn’t crossed Katsuki’s mind—at least, not until tonight. The kitchen was filled with the scent of spices and savory heat, the air almost thick with the tantalizing promise of a meal. Katsuki sat at the table, watching as Izuku placed the final dish in front of him: Mapo Tofu.

This time, it was different. Katsuki could already tell by the look of it—it had an intensity, a darker shade of red than the last time Izuku made it.

“I made it spicier,” Izuku said with a grin, his green eyes bright with excitement. “I figured you could handle it.”

Katsuki chuckled and took a bite. Instantly, the heat hit him, sharp and relentless, a burst of fiery flavor that made his eyes widen. He swallowed, letting the sensation wash over him, and then he laughed. A deep, genuine laugh.

“This,” Katsuki said, pointing his chopsticks at the dish, “this is what I’m talking about. Almost as good as my mom’s.”

Izuku’s face lit up, and Katsuki couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in the kid. He wasn’t just a guest anymore; somehow, Izuku had carved out a place here, making the house feel warm, alive again.

“If you cook like this again, make sure it’s always like this—no more weak sauce,” Katsuki teased, taking another mouthful of the fiery tofu.

Izuku chuckled softly, his smile faltering for just a moment before he spoke. “Well... I’ll definitely cook it like this when I visit.”

Katsuki paused mid-bite. “When you visit?”

“Yeah.” Izuku's tone was casual, but there was a bittersweet note behind it. “My apartment’s been fixed. I’ll be moving back tomorrow.”

It felt like the floor dropped out from under Katsuki. He hadn’t expected that—hadn’t prepared himself for it. The idea that Izuku would eventually leave had always been there in the back of his mind, but it felt... distant. Like something he wouldn’t have to face anytime soon.

Now it was here, looming over him, and Katsuki suddenly realized how much he had come to rely on the kid’s presence. The house would be empty again. Quiet. No more clattering in the kitchen, no more light conversations, no more moments like this.

He tried to reason with himself. Of course he can’t stay forever. It’s his life. He’s got his own place, his own things to do. But there was something deeper, something raw that gnawed at him, the fear of being alone creeping back in.

Katsuki swallowed, trying to push the tightness in his chest down. “Yeah... makes sense,” he said, his voice a little rougher than he intended. “Your place is all sorted now, huh?”

Izuku nodded, oblivious to the storm of emotions brewing beneath the surface. “Yup! But I’ll definitely visit. I’ll miss cooking here for you, nii-san. It was fun, you know?”

Katsuki forced a small grin, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah... fun.”

But the truth was, the thought of going back to his routine—the quiet dinners, the lonely evenings—hit him harder than he thought it would. The fear of being alone again, without anyone to talk to, without anyone to care for or who cared for him in return, pulled him down into a dark, familiar place.

He stayed silent for a moment, staring at his bowl, unsure of what to say. What the hell was he supposed to say? Don’t go? Stay here with me? The words felt selfish, childish even, but the feeling was real.

Instead, he swallowed his pride, pushing the emotion aside. “Well... make sure you keep your word,” Katsuki said, his tone gruff but softer than usual. “Don’t just disappear and forget, got it?”

Izuku smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I won’t. I promise.”

But as the words lingered, Katsuki couldn’t shake the sense of emptiness looming on the horizon. Izuku’s departure felt like the end of something he hadn’t even realized he’d needed. And for the first time in a long while, Katsuki felt the loneliness creeping back in, threatening to swallow him whole.

----

The house was too quiet.

With Izuku gone, the house felt different. It was as if someone had sucked the color out of the walls, leaving everything faded and gray. The familiar creaks of the wooden floorboards now sounded like whispers of the past, reminders of laughter and warmth that had filled the air only moments before.

Katsuki turned slowly, taking in the kitchen, once alive with Izuku’s cooking and chatter. The leftover Mapo Tofu sat cooling on the counter, a stark reminder of the last meal they shared. He had thought it would be easy to go back to the way things were before—when it had just been him. But now that Izuku was gone, the house felt hollow.

He moved through the rooms, glancing at the empty space where Izuku had set up his things, a corner of the living room adorned with a blanket and a stack of books. It’s just temporary, Katsuki told himself. He’ll come back. But the thought felt weak against the crushing weight of the silence.

In the evenings, he had gotten used to the sound of Izuku’s laughter drifting through the air, the way they’d sit together and talk about everything and nothing. Now, there was only the dull throb of solitude.

Katsuki sank onto the couch, running a hand through his hair, feeling the familiar sting of loss. This wasn’t just the absence of a guest; this was something else entirely. With Izuku gone, it was more like a hollowness, a vacuum that made him feel disconnected from everything around him.

He picked up the remote, flipping through channels without really seeing anything. Each show seemed to mock his state of being, flashing colors and laughter that only deepened his sense of isolation. No more warm meals, no more cheerful conversations. Just a stark reminder of what he had lost again.

Katsuki's gaze drifted to the stack of All Might comics on the coffee table, remnants of their movie date still fresh in his mind. The joy of sharing something he loved with someone who mirrored the same enthusiasm felt like a distant memory. He remembered Izuku’s animated voice, the way his eyes sparkled with excitement when they talked about their favorite hero.

It shouldn’t hurt like this, he thought bitterly, clenching his fists. You’re a grown man. You shouldn’t be this weak.

But the truth was, he felt lost. Alone. Hollow. As if the walls of the house were closing in around him, suffocating him in their emptiness. He tried to shake it off, tried to convince himself that he’d get through this, just like he had before. But the weight of loneliness settled on his chest like a heavy blanket, making it hard to breathe.

Katsuki forced himself to stand, to move, but every step felt heavier than the last. He headed into the kitchen, the remnants of dinner still untouched on the counter. He didn’t want to eat alone.

But that was the reality. Alone again.

And just like that, the darkness began to seep back in, a familiar shadow creeping around the edges of his mind. The house was silent, but it roared with memories—of laughter, warmth, and connection. Now it was just a shell, echoing with the ghost of what had been.

In that moment, Katsuki realized that he wasn’t just mourning Izuku’s absence; he was mourning the piece of himself that had started to heal, the part that had found a semblance of joy again. The hollowness felt like a chasm, a void that threatened to swallow him whole.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself against the wave of despair that threatened to crash over him. Get it together, Katsuki. But even as he said it, he knew it wouldn’t be easy. Not anymore.

The house was empty, and so was he.

----

Katsuki slammed the snooze button on his alarm, groaning as he sat up. Work again, he thought, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He shuffled out of his room, still half-asleep, and called out, “Izuku, no sugar in my coffee, please!”

But the house was eerily silent. His heart sank as he remembered—Izuku was gone. He glanced around the empty living room, the absence of his younger brother-in-law heavy in the air. How many times has this happened? He couldn't shake the feeling of searching for someone who wasn’t there.

First was before heading to work, Katsuki found himself at the door, ready to leave when he realized his keys were missing. He cursed under his breath and called out, “Izuku, can you grab my keys?” But there was no reply, just the quiet hum of the house.

Then, when he finally returned home, exhausted and starving, he expected to find a meal waiting on the table, perhaps wrapped up with a messy note from Izuku. But the table was empty and spotless, a stark reminder of the silence that filled the space.

Katsuki felt a wave of frustration wash over him. He couldn’t understand why he felt so lost without Izuku. It was only two weeks. It was infuriating, really. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. Get it together, Katsuki. But deep down, he knew he needed Izuku's company—there was no denying it.

----

After days of restless contemplation, Katsuki finally admitted to himself what had been gnawing at his thoughts—he missed Izuku’s presence. The brat was annoying, sure, but the house was just too damn empty without him. Grumbling under his breath, he picked up his phone the moment he clocked out of work and dialed Izuku’s number.

“Nii-san!” Izuku’s bubbly voice rang out as soon as he answered. “You missed me, didn’t you? What’s up?”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, already regretting the call but not really. “As if,” he growled, “I’ve been enjoying the peace and quiet without a nerd making noise around the house.”

Izuku laughed, not missing a beat. “Right, right. So, are you just calling to remind me how much better things are without me?”

“Tch,” Katsuki huffed. “You’re the one with all the free time, wasting it by being glued to those damn All Might movies or whatever.”

“You say that like you’re not impressed by them! Don’t act like you haven’t been tempted to watch the new one.” Izuku teased.

“Tempted? Hardly,” Katsuki lied, but his smirk was creeping up. The truth was, Izuku’s enthusiasm for that hero was infectious. “It’s just some overhyped superhero flick.”

“I knew it! You’re just hiding your secret admiration for the Symbol of Peace, aren’t you?” Izuku teased, voice light but playful.

“Don’t get cocky, nerd.” Katsuki barked back, though he was barely suppressing a chuckle. They bantered back and forth, their conversation slipping into the easy rhythm they had somehow fallen into. Katsuki found himself enjoying the back-and-forth more than he cared to admit.

Then, before he could stop himself, he blurted, “You wanna grab some ramen?”

Izuku’s reply came almost instantly, full of energy. “Ramen? Heck yeah! Let’s meet at the restaurant near that Katsudon place!”

Katsuki frowned, though there was a smile tugging at his lips. “Nah. I’ll pick you up.”

“Oh, uh… okay.” Izuku sounded a little surprised, but relented. “I’ll send you the address.”

Katsuki couldn’t help but grin when his phone buzzed with the address. Finally, he thought, now I know where the nerd lives. He drove faster than usual, eager to see Izuku again, a sense of anticipation buzzing in his chest. When he pulled up to the apartment, his heart did a little flip as he spotted Izuku approaching his car, his green hair bouncing as he waved.

As Izuku slid into the passenger seat and reached for his seatbelt, Katsuki instinctively leaned over and fastened it for him. “Oi, I got it!” Izuku pouted, crossing his arms like a kid.

Katsuki just smirked. “Not a kid, huh? More like a toddler.”

Izuku’s cheeks puffed out, and before Katsuki could react, Izuku reached out and gently cupped his face, staring deeply into his eyes. “Wow, nii-san… You’ve got beautiful eyes. Rubies. They really add to your charm.”

Katsuki froze for a second, caught off guard by the sincerity. His face grew warm as he quickly pulled away, masking his flustered state with a grunt. “Tch. You’re such a sap.” But after a pause, he mumbled, almost reluctantly, “Your emeralds aren’t so bad either. Striking, actually.”

Izuku blinked in surprise but smiled brightly. “Thanks, nii-san!”

“Shut up,” Katsuki muttered, feeling more flustered than ever. But a small smile lingered on his lips as they headed off for ramen.

----

After they finished their ramen, Izuku stretched contentedly and glanced at the time. "It’s getting pretty late, nii-san. I should probably head home."

Katsuki felt a pang of reluctance. He didn’t want the night to end just yet. Without making it too obvious, he grumbled, “Tch. Don’t be in such a hurry. It’s been forever since I’ve had drinks with someone. Come back to my place for a bit. We’ll have a few beers.”

Izuku shook his head, starting to refuse. “I don’t know, nii-san, I have—”

But Katsuki wasn’t going to let him off that easily. He smirked and threw out his trump card. “I downloaded the new All Might movie. You know, the one that’s not even out in Japan yet.”

Izuku’s eyes widened, and Katsuki could see the internal struggle. “What? You mean the unreleased one? No way...”

“Yeah,” Katsuki said, crossing his arms, pretending not to care. “But I guess if you’re too tired—”

“I’m coming!” Izuku blurted, completely defeated by the promise of an exclusive All Might movie.

When they arrived at Katsuki’s apartment, Katsuki gestured towards the living room. “Turn on the TV and find the file. Should be in the downloads folder.”

While Izuku eagerly set everything up, Katsuki made popcorn and grabbed a couple of beer cans from the fridge. By the time he sat down, Izuku had the movie queued up, looking like an excited kid on Christmas morning.

They cracked open their beers and settled in to watch. As the movie progressed, Katsuki couldn’t help but notice two characters—Dynamight and Deku—who were hero partners in the film. The resemblance was too good to pass up.

“You know,” Katsuki said, throwing a glance at Izuku. “Your name can be read as Deku, too. Means useless, doesn’t it?”

Izuku, ever quick on the draw, rolled his eyes. “Come on, nii-san. You know it means ‘I can do it,’ right? My sister told me that ages ago.”

Katsuki smirked, leaning back. “Yeah, sure. But if you’re so useful, maybe you should prove it by making me Mapo Tofu again. The spicier the better.”

Izuku laughed, crossing his arms. “If I’m so ‘useless,’ I won’t cook it for you ever again.”

Katsuki chuckled, reaching over to ruffle Izuku’s hair. “Alright, fine. Maybe you’re not so useless after all. But I’m calling you Deku from now on.”

Izuku smirked right back. “Okay then, Kacchan. That’s what hero Deku calls his hero partner Dynamight in the movie, right? Your name’s Katsuki, so ‘Kacchan’ fits.”

Katsuki’s eye twitched at the nickname, but he couldn’t deny how natural it felt. “Tch, whatever.”

They continued to banter throughout the movie, their teasing coming so easily that neither of them noticed how late it was getting. Eventually, though, Izuku’s energy waned. His eyelids grew heavy, and before Katsuki realized it, Izuku’s head had tipped over, landing on his shoulder.

Katsuki glanced down, surprised at how quickly Izuku had drifted off. For a moment, he thought about waking him up, but then he felt something warm spread through his chest. It had been so long since he felt this kind of warmth.

Slowly, almost without thinking, Katsuki leaned in and gently planted a kiss on Izuku's lips. It was soft, tentative—just a brief connection that made his heart race.

The moment it happened, Katsuki’s entire body stiffened. What the fuck did I just do?

His mind was a whirlwind of confusion and guilt. He pulled away quickly, staring at Izuku’s peaceful face, still fast asleep. His lips tingled, and the weight of what he’d done hit him like a freight train. Why had he done that? Why Izuku?

It’s not just company I want from him, is it? The realization crept up slowly, his chest tightening. He wasn’t just seeking comfort in Izuku’s presence—he was drawn to him, attracted to him. Ochaco’s younger brother.

A wave of guilt crashed over him, almost suffocating. Izuku was family. He’s just a kid, Katsuki reminded himself, though he knew Izuku was a grown man now. That didn’t change the fact that he was Ochaco’s brother—the one person who should have been off-limits.

Katsuki felt torn. He couldn’t deny the warmth, the happiness that Izuku brought into his life. But that happiness was now tainted by his actions. Guilt gnawed at him, overwhelming the brief comfort he had felt just moments ago.

Without another word, Katsuki slipped away from the couch, leaving Izuku asleep in the living room. He retreated to his bedroom, where he pulled open a drawer and took out an old photograph—their wedding picture. He stared at it, his heart aching as he ran a thumb over Ochaco’s smiling face.

Tears welled up in his eyes, and before he could stop them, they spilled over. Katsuki collapsed onto his bed, clutching the picture to his chest, his body shaking as he sobbed quietly into the darkness.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. He hugged the photo tight, seeking forgiveness that he wasn’t sure he deserved. Eventually, the tears wore him out, and he drifted into an uneasy sleep, still holding the picture close.

----

After that night, Katsuki was resolute in his decision to avoid Izuku at all costs. The weight of his attraction hung heavy on him, a secret he buried deep out of respect for his late wife. He understood that any deeper connection with Izuku would only complicate things further, and he refused to betray the memory of the woman he had loved.

But despite his efforts, fate had other plans. One evening, Izuku called him, his voice tinged with urgency. “Kacchan! I need your help. My apartment’s exhaust burst, and the landlord says I need to vacate the area.” There was a pause, then the soft, hopeful plea: “Can I stay with you again?”

Katsuki felt his heart clench, knowing that he couldn’t refuse. “Yeah, fine,” he replied, masking his reluctance. With classes starting, Izuku would be busy, and maybe that would give him the space he needed.

As soon as Izuku moved back in, the comforting routine resumed. Breakfasts were made, dinner was cooked, and thoughtful gestures filled the house. Each act of kindness only deepened Katsuki’s feelings, but he kept his distance, careful to avoid any moments that might lead to temptation. But that distance hurt Izuku, evident in the way his bright demeanor dimmed when Katsuki wasn’t looking.

One night, Izuku was out late at a college party, and Katsuki received a call. Someone told him that Izuku was drunk and needed help. His heart raced as he drove to the address, a mix of worry and irritation swirling in his gut. When he arrived, he found Izuku glowing with excitement, waving him down. “Kacchan!” He bounded over, wrapping his arms around Katsuki’s waist, and the blond instinctively lifted him up, carrying him back to his car.

Once home, Katsuki laid Izuku down in bed, but the younger man clung to his arm, looking up at him with bleary eyes. “Why are you avoiding me, Kacchan?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Katsuki brushed him off and stood, trying to sound gruff. “You’re drunk. Just rest.”

“Do you hate me?” Izuku’s voice trembled slightly, and Katsuki’s heart tightened.

“Of course not,” he replied, but Izuku’s gaze remained searching, intense.

“Then do you like me?”

Katsuki froze, the question hanging in the air like a weight. Did Izuku know? Had he seen through the careful walls Katsuki had built? Panic gripped him as he overthought every possibility.

“Answer me, Kacchan. Please. How do you feel about me?”

“What are you talking about? You’re not in the right head,” Katsuki deflected, trying to keep his voice steady.

“I’m not drunk. I just needed the alcohol for courage.”

Katsuki sighed, frustration boiling beneath the surface. “Tch. Whatever. I’m going to sleep.”

“Why did you kiss me?”

Katsuki’s heart raced as he felt trapped in red lights, the confession catching him off guard.

“You like me, Kacchan. Not just as a brother, not as family. But as a person.”

His mind raced, feeling cornered. “If you knew, then you should stay away from me. I was your sister’s husband. You’re not stupid, Deku.”

“My sister is no longer here, Kacchan. She would want you to be happy, cared for, and loved. I can give that to you.”

The confession struck Katsuki like a lightning bolt, leaving him speechless. He felt the ground shift beneath him as Izuku stood and walked closer, determination shining in his eyes. “I’m not my sister. But I can love you more.”

“Izuku, please. Not me. I can’t—”

But before he could finish, Izuku closed the distance and kissed him. Katsuki’s instinct was to pull away, to resist the urge that coursed through him, but he found himself frozen, unable to deny the warmth that spread from the gentle press of Izuku’s lips against his.

In that moment, he felt the walls he had built around himself begin to crumble, and all his resolve slipped away.

Katsuki pressed Izuku down onto the bed, their bodies tangled in the sheets. The air felt charged as they gazed into each other’s eyes, both knowing how important this moment was. Katsuki leaned in and captured Izuku’s lips in a passionate kiss.

As they kissed, clothes were discarded, tossed aside carelessly, the fabric sliding off and hitting the floor. Katsuki’s heart raced, and he lost himself in the warmth of Izuku beneath him, feeling alive and needed. Their kisses getting deeper, their breaths faster. Each thrust came with a soft grunt, and he could hear Izuku's breath hitching, letting out soft moans that made Katsuki crave more.

“Izuku… Izuku…” Katsuki breathed, his voice heavy with desire, each syllable filled with longing.

“Ahh… Kacchan… Yes, I’m Izuku,” the younger man replied, his voice a sweet whisper that drove Katsuki wild. Their bodies moved together, and the room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, soft gasps, and the rustle of sheets.

“More, Kacchan,” Izuku urged, his voice breathy, eyes wide with need.

With a low growl, Katsuki obliged, the rhythm between them growing faster. They moved in sync, their breaths mingling as they lost themselves in each other. The pleasure built, creating a tension that filled the air.

“Izuku… I—” Katsuki gasped, the words slipping away as the heat enveloped them.

“Me too, Kacchan,” Izuku panted, eyes locked on Katsuki as they spiraled closer to the edge together.

In that moment, it was just the two of them, wrapped in warmth and connection, feeling each other's heartbeats, sharing something unforgettable and life changing.

----

Izuku woke up alone in his bed, his body aching in ways he’d never experienced before. Especially his lower half. Memories of the night flooded back—Katsuki’s fierce passion, the way they’d lost themselves in each other. He couldn’t count how many times they’d been tangled up together, but he was definitely feeling the aftermath.

Dragging himself to the bathroom, he splashed cold water on his face and brushed his teeth. As he looked in the mirror, the evidence of their night together was undeniable. Bite marks dotted his shoulder, purpling bruises adorned his neck, and his lips were swollen, a testament to their fervent kisses. A mix of embarrassment and exhilaration washed over him.

After gathering his thoughts, he ventured out in search of Katsuki. The moment he stepped into the kitchen, he was greeted by the enticing aroma of toasting bread and sizzling sausages. The coffee maker beeped, filling the air with a rich scent.

Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around Katsuki from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder. “Good morning,” he greeted, his voice warm and soft.

Katsuki turned, pulling him into a tight embrace. “Morning, nerd. How’s your body?”

“Aching, creaking, but still good,” Izuku replied with a playful smile, feeling the warmth of Katsuki’s body against his.

Katsuki laughed, a deep, rich sound that made Izuku's heart flutter, and kissed him lightly on the lips. “Breakfast,” he said, motioning to the spread on the table.

Izuku smiled and settled down at the table as Katsuki placed a plate in front of him. They ate in comfortable silence, the kind that felt natural and right.

After a few bites, Izuku couldn’t hold back any longer. “Last night was… intense,” he said, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks.

Katsuki paused, looking up from his plate, his expression turning serious but soft. “Yeah, it was. You, okay?”

Izuku nodded, the memory of their heated moments sending a thrill through him. “I just didn’t expect… everything. You were—” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “You were incredible.”

Katsuki’s lips curled into a smirk. “I know.”

Izuku laughed, feeling a warmth spread through him. “I mean it! I didn’t think you had that kind of—um, energy.”

Katsuki raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You bring it out in me, nerd.”

“Is that so?” Izuku felt a rush of warmth at Katsuki’s words, and he leaned in slightly, encouraged by the openness between them.

“Damn right,” Katsuki replied, grinning as he took a bite of his toast. “Just don’t think you can keep up every night.”

“I’ll do my best,” Izuku promised, feeling more alive than ever in Katsuki’s presence.

Out of the blue, as they sat in the quiet of their breakfast, Izuku suddenly spoke, his voice soft but firm. "Let's visit nee-chan."

Katsuki froze for a moment, the unexpected suggestion catching him off guard. His chest tightened, but when he looked at Izuku’s determined eyes, he knew it was the right thing to do. Slowly, he nodded, taking Izuku’s hand in his. "Yeah… we should."

Later that day, they found themselves standing in front of Ochaco’s grave. The air was still, the gentle breeze rustling the leaves around them. Izuku knelt first, a bouquet of flowers in his hands, and took a deep breath before speaking.

"Nee-chan… I miss you," Izuku started, his voice trembling slightly. "I miss all our fun talks. I miss your advice, your scolding. I'm an adult now, and you always told me to control my heart, but also to follow what it tells me. So here I am, asking you… Please, give me Katsuki. I promise to love him like you did, and even more. I’ll cook for him, take care of him every day. I’ll make sure he never feels alone again. I’ll stay by his side, always."

Izuku’s words hung in the air, filled with both love and hope. He stood and squeezed Katsuki’s hand, urging him to speak. Katsuki hesitated, the weight of the moment pressing down on him, but he knew he had to say something, for both Ochaco and Izuku. With a heavy exhale, he began.

"Chaco," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "When we got married, I was the happiest man alive. You were… the best wife I could’ve ever asked for. You loved me, took care of me. And I loved you the same." His voice faltered, but he pressed on, feeling Izuku’s steady hand still holding his. "But when you left… everything felt empty. The world was hollow without you."

Katsuki paused, looking down at Ochaco’s grave as if searching for the right words. "Then Izuku came into my life, and he… he made me feel alive again. I’m sorry, Chaco, for taking your brother away like this. But I swear to you, I’ll take care of him. I’ll protect him with everything I’ve got. I won’t let him come to harm." His throat tightened, and he forced the next words out, feeling the full weight of them. "I loved you, Ochaco. But I pray for your peace now… and I promise to take care of him. Of Izuku."

-----

After visiting Ochaco’s grave, Katsuki made a decision. The house he shared with her, filled with memories of their past, was no longer where he belonged. It was time to move forward. So, he sold the house and, together with Izuku, found a new place—a cozy apartment that quickly became their sanctuary.

Life settled into a comfortable rhythm. Katsuki and Izuku took turns making breakfast, often teasing each other over who made the better eggs.

"Your toast’s burnt again, Kacchan," Izuku teased one morning.

"Tch, better than your runny eggs," Katsuki shot back, but the smirk on his face gave away his amusement.

Dinner became Izuku’s domain, but sometimes they cooked together, laughing as they bumped into each other in their small kitchen.

"Pass me the soy sauce," Katsuki said, only to find Izuku holding it out with a playful grin.

"Already ahead of you, Kacchan," Izuku replied, laughing as Katsuki rolled his eyes, but leaned in for a quick kiss.

Their new home quickly filled with pictures of their adventures—vacations to the mountains, beach trips, and quiet days in parks. Each snapshot captured their joy, the love growing between them stronger with each passing day.

"Look at you in this one," Katsuki chuckled, pointing to a photo of Izuku trying to build a sandcastle. "Completely hopeless."

"Hey! I’m the architect in this relationship!" Izuku protested but laughed along.

One day, they decided to take their love even further. After much planning, they quietly moved abroad, away from the prying eyes and familiar streets. In a small, intimate ceremony, they sealed their love forever with a secret marriage. No guests, no fanfare—just the two of them and their vows.

"Do you, Katsuki, take Izuku to be your… nerdy husband?" Izuku grinned as the words left his mouth.

Katsuki snorted but squeezed Izuku’s hands tightly. "Hell yeah, I do. And do you, Izuku, take me, the greatest man alive?"

Izuku beamed, eyes glistening. "For the rest of our lives."

From then on, their life was theirs alone. They spent lazy mornings sipping coffee, planning more trips, and simply living in the peace they had built. Every day was filled with love, laughter, and the warmth of their bond, unbreakable and everlasting.

Izuku leaned into Katsuki one evening, smiling softly. "You happy?"

Katsuki kissed the top of his head. "More than ever."

End.