In Your Memory

Chapter 1: Coming Home.

Izuku sighed as he inserted the metal key into the hole of his brass doorknob. Today's patrol was especially exhausting, though he couldn't pinpoint exactly why, as it was the same as any other day. His entire body ached and his muscles groaned in protest with each movement. His hand began to shake suddenly, making him drop the ring of keys with a soft clang on the tiled floor of the hall. As subtle as the noise was, he could hear the clang ricochet off the walls of the apartment building. Everything was so quiet; it was almost unsettling. "Shit," he mumbled as he reached down to pick up the mess of keys. Shit. The word echoed through his head, ricocheting off the walls of his skull, much like the sound of the falling keys. Falling, falling. He fell backward, landing clumsily in a seated position as his entire body quivered. Tears streamed from his eyes as he pushed his hair up with either hand resting on his forehead. "I-it's too quiet, too quiet." There was something missing and he couldn't be reminded of it. But that word, " shit " was all too familiar, even though it was of frequent use in the vernacular. With a quick swipe of his hand, the tears stopped flowing. The rough leather of his glove stung his face slightly, but it felt dull. Everything seemed so far away now. Even the keys he meant to pick up, he was peering at them through a tunnel. Izuku squeezed his eyes shut, wringing them free of any leftover tears. Once he opened them again he felt relatively normal, as if the minor breakdown didn't just occur. With a stuttered breath he leaned forward to finally grab the keys and set about opening the door once more. The key went in the slot and he twisted. As his wrist turned in sync with the knob, something in his chest did too. Not his chest per se, that was too broad, in his heart. It felt like someone had reached through the thick skin and wrapped their rough, warm, calloused fingers around the organ and tugged, demanding to be noticed. His heart began to pulsate quickly in protest and he released a choked sob in response. He stared at the gloved hand around the knob. It seemed so foreign and wretched that it slightly stung his eyes to look at. With a deep inhale and the squeezing of his shutting eyelids, the pain around his heart subsided, turning the grasp into a mere pinch. These days it was so familiar that it seemed almost nonexistent. But that was the thing about pain, it demands to be felt. So as much as he told himself that there was nothing, he always knew, he always felt that pinch, demanding to be felt and released. It was enough to drive a man insane, but so long as he ignored it, he could continue living as if everything was alright. He released the exhale he was holding and opened his eyes once more. No more chest pain, no more tunnel vision. Just the subtle ache of his muscles from a long day's work. He plastered a small smile on his face and pushed the door open to reveal his apartment.

Izuku closed the door and set the keys on a table beside the door, making a similar noise to when he dropped them, almost sending him spiraling back down. He shook the feeling away, smile slightly enlarging as he forced it away. He bent down to unclip the iron grips on his shoes and stepped out of the fabric sneakers before placing them by the door. He stumbled over to the fridge to grab a drink. He sighed again before opening the refrigerator door, expecting to grab a bottle of water but was met with case after case of alcohol. Condiment bottles were tossed carelessly, some even leaking open and generating a foul smell. He paled at the image, almost reunited with the pain tugging at his heart, but another deep inhale shoved the hand away once more. He released a shallow chuckle and smiled wider now as he grabbed one of the glass bottles from the shelf. He grabbed the metal bottle opener that was magnetized to the fridge door and twisted the metal lid off that he idly tossed into the sink beside him. It landed with a clink against the cool metal and it echoed off the kitchen's tile walls. Izuku winced and shivered in place. It was too quiet, what was wrong? Something's not right. He returned the smile to his face and leaned out of the kitchen's threshold. "Kacchan, I'm home~!" He waited for a response as he adjusted his position to lean against the frame of the entrance, taking a small sip from the brown bottle in his hand. Concern grew in his chest, slightly dissimilar to that of the hand tugging at his heart, but either way, he felt uneasy. "Kacchan?" he called again. This time he set the bottle down on the counter beside him with a subtle tink, the loudness of it making him even more panicked. The empty silence was haunting. He knew he wasn't on the couch, he had a clear view of the living room from the kitchen. He didn't hear any water running from the bathroom, so he wasn't taking a shower. But Izuku found himself throwing open the bathroom door, only to be met by darkness shrouding the tiled floor. He flicked the light on and frantically threw open the shower curtain. "Kacchan, where a-" his throat released a choked sob that made his voice crack horribly, making him sound like a dying rodent, "W-where are you? Kacchan?" He grew more frantic as his voice gradually raised in volume. The pain in his chest grew in intensity as the panic wrapped around his heart like a predatory snake ready to consume its prey. There was one other place he could be, he could be taking a nap and Izuku would be worrying for nothing. He tried to ease his mind with this thought and focused on making his movements slower so as to not startle his sleeping partner. He made his way down the hall and slowly opened the door to the bedroom.

Only to find the crisp sheets untouched. Clothing was strewn around carelessly in the room. Papers scattered around the mattress. Drawers and closets hanging open. Wallpaper torn and scorched. Deep holes in the drywall about the size of a fist and a foot. A foul stench arose from somewhere deep in the room and it stung his nostrils, swarming his mind with absolutely nothing or far too much. Izuku released a heart-shattering screech from the depths of his throat, the sound itself startling him. The grip around his heart tightened at its worst, in an attempt to wring his heart free of every ounce of care. It wasn't a snake that wrapped around the organ, it wasn't panic that he felt. It was hurt, heartbreak, grief . The grip around his heart was a hand, it was rough, warm, and calloused because that hand was familiar to him. It was Katsuki's hand, begging him to grieve properly, begging him to let go . Izuku crumbled, fell to his knees. Just like the keys. Just like the body. Falling . The hand squeezed around his heart and sent a numbing pain shooting through his veins, making his muscles convulsing in protest. He was shaking so bad he couldn't tell if it was because of his sobs or if his body just hated him that much. "K-Kacc-" gasp "Ka-KATSUKI." The name left the tip of his tongue with a horrid, scratchy yell. It stung his throat and his vision blurred, suddenly there was a pain in his hand, in his knuckles as it collided with something hard, something hard like the rough asphalt, and ANOTHER HIT against something hard and another and anOTHER. He felt the power of One For All surge through his forearm and around his fist, allowing him to take another hit and another and crash. The area around his fist felt empty but the skin surrounding it throbbed and felt wet. His vision cleared partially, still blurred by streaming tears he didn't even know he was crying. Once he had returned to his senses, mostly, he looked down at what he had done. A gaping hole surrounded his bloodied and bruised fist, torn and sticky leather tattered around the abused skin. The remnants of One For All glowed green against his arm, as it receded to its lessened state. Torn bits of carpet curled askew against broken bits of wood, revealing the darkness shrouding metal pipes. A thick strand of Black Whip shot through one of the spaces in his now ruined glove. He stared at the tendril in disgust. It was too late. It's too late. You killed-. His body convulsed upon the thought. He groaned in surprise or annoyance at the ruined floor, he couldn't tell. Not that it even mattered. Not that anything mattered. Besides Kacchan. Besides Katsuki. Katsuki Bakugo, Kacchan, Dynamight, Katsuki. Who am I without Kacchan? Who am I without him? "WHO AM I??" Another yell and another hit, though much weaker and far more painful as his abused fist punched the sharp edge of the hole. Suddenly a wave of exhaustion washed over his vibrating frame, his muscles throbbed with soreness and his bloodied fists ached with pain, real pain. Even his chest ached from the emotional pain that continued to leave ever-growing scars. Izuku's eyelids drooped in protest of any further action, but sleeping in a knelt position leaning against the doorframe wouldn't do any good to support his soreness. He winced as he stood, and had to use the wood frame of the doorway as leverage before falling again. His ankles locked and his joints stiffened, making him feel like a robot, no, a puppet , a mere toy used for the world's amusement. He stumbled over a pile of rags and fabric before finally tripping and letting his body collapse on the bed. He groaned in satisfaction of the coolness of the sheets on his face, and he slowly, though stubbornly, adjusted himself so that he was laying properly on the mattress. He closed his eyes and the rest of his senses took over. The stench of sweat and body odor stung his nostrils and he furrowed his brows over shut eyelids. He reached up to unzip the upper half of his costume, hesitant to go about taking it off in fear he would disrupt his slight comfort and set about a ripple effect and create a wave of new emotions. He shrugged out of the upper half of the suit, and he sighed as he felt the cool air hit his heated and sweaty skin. Izuku finally began to rest, his muscles sighing in delight as the tension was slowly released. He turned his body so that he was lying on his side and leaned deeper into the pillow, wrapping his arm around it and hugging it to his face. Kacchan-. His nose got the better of him and he was suddenly engulfed in the scent of another body, the scent of sweet caramel, the scent of nitroglycerin. The scent of Kacchan. My Kacchan. My Katsuki. My-.

A/N: This line: "But that was the thing about pain, it demands to be felt." I got it from John Green's "The Fault In Our Stars;" an excellent book, by the way, I definitely recommend it.