Yes, Maybe, No | BakuDeku ✔

chapter-33

Izuku stood outside the apartment building, his heart heavy with emotions he couldn't describe. The familiar doors of the building taunted him with memories of happier times, but now they symbolized a turbulent past that he had been trying to forget. He was torn between what he should do with the condo: should he sell it, seek a new residence, or hold onto it despite the recent traumatic events that had taken place there?

As he pushed open the door and stepped inside, the room seemed shrouded in an unsettling presence that he couldn't shake. Every corner of the apartment echoed his mother's essence, making him feel like she was still there with him. Despite the pain she had caused him, he couldn't harbor eternal hatred in his heart. He knew he needed to find a way to forgive her to move forward.

As he walked around the apartment, his conviction grew more assertive. The suppressed secrets, the ear-piercing screams, and the heart-wrenching cries that had echoed through the walls had left an indelible mark. Izuku knew he had to dispose of this place once and for all to truly let go of the past.

He walked into his room with boxes of carbon folded into his hands as he built them. The room was filled with belongings that held sentimental value, but he knew that it was time to let go of those that reminded him of the traumatic past. He carefully selected the items he wanted to keep and left the rest for donations or the next homeowners to decide what to do with them.

As Izuku walked past his mother's room to the bathroom, he couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort wash over him. Despite the pain of her absence, seeing her room preserved the way she left, it felt like a small piece of her was still there with him. He pushed open the door, which creaked slightly and stepped inside, his gaze blankly scanning the room.

As he looked around, his eyes settled on a framed photograph on her nightstand. His feet carried him closer, and he fell to his knees as he got near. The picture was from the last day they spent together before the accident. In the photo, a young Izuku, barely five years old, beamed up at his mother with his toothy grin, his happiness evident in his eyes.

Overcome with emotion, he couldn't help but cry as he looked at the photo. He knew he had to keep it safe, to hold onto this precious memory of his mother. He gently picked up the picture and placed it inside one of his boxes, determined to keep this treasured snapshot close to him.

With a heavy heart, he made his way to the bathroom, the memory of his mother's smile etched forever in his mind.

After several hours of packing, he finally placed the last box outside on the sidewalk. His hands were on his hips, and sweat dripped down his forehead. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down and stabilize his breathing, then looked up at the building in front of him. Izuku couldn't help but smile at how ironic everything had turned out to be. He could have been free from his mother's control long ago if he had spoken up earlier. He could have avoided that rough patch with Katsuki and been with him all this time. He chuckled to himself before dialing Katsuki to come and pick up his things and take them to his studio.

"Hey, babe," Katsuki said, smiling when he saw Izuku's warm smile. He leaned in, kissed him, and helped him load the boxes into the trunk of his car and onto the bench seat.

"How much do you think I can sell this place?" Izuku asks his boyfriend's back as he is bent over to push the boxes across the bench seat while his thumb is pointing back at the apartment complex. 

Katsuki shielded his eyes with one hand and looked up at the building. He stood beside Izuku, resting his other hand on his hip. "Considering the location, it's a pretty good amount of money," he said. Then, he put his arm around Izuku's neck.

"Yeah, I think so, too," Izuku replied. He laid his head on Katsuki's shoulder and closed his eyes from the bright sun. "But I think I'm going to give it to my friend. He needs a better place to live than the shithole he's in," he continued before straightening up and heading toward the car.