Kacchaco Short Stories

Us

A/N idk but Im obsessed with Gracie abrams like u go girl she's very demure, very cutsy

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The city of Musutafu was alive with the usual hustle and bustle of a Friday evening. Neon lights flickered on as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the streets. The air was filled with the distant sounds of conversations, laughter, and the occasional car horn, creating a symphony of urban life that was both chaotic and comforting. But high above the city, in a small apartment on the edge of downtown, the world felt eerily quiet.

Katsuki Bakugou sat alone in the dimly lit living room, the soft glow from the streetlights outside filtering through the curtains. He stared blankly at the untouched dinner on the coffee table in front of him. The food had gone cold hours ago, but Katsuki couldn't bring himself to care. His appetite had vanished, replaced by a heavy knot of anxiety that sat like a stone in his stomach.

The apartment felt too big, too empty. Katsuki's eyes drifted to the framed photos on the bookshelf—snapshots of happier times, when things had been simpler. There was a picture of him and Ochaco Uraraka at a summer festival, laughing as they tried (and failed) to win a prize at a ring toss game. Another photo showed them on the beach, arms around each other as they gazed out at the ocean, their faces lit up with joy.

But those moments felt like a lifetime ago. The warmth and closeness they had once shared seemed to have slipped through their fingers, replaced by a growing distance that neither of them knew how to bridge.

Katsuki leaned back on the couch, running a hand through his unruly blonde hair. He had never been good at talking about his feelings—anger, frustration, and determination were easy emotions for him to express. But vulnerability? Fear? Those were things he had always kept locked away, buried deep beneath the surface. And yet, here he was, drowning in emotions he didn't know how to deal with.

The front door creaked open, and Katsuki's heart skipped a beat. He glanced up to see Ochaco stepping inside, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion. Her hair, usually tied up in a neat bun, was slightly disheveled, and there were dark circles under her eyes. She looked like she hadn't slept in days, a mirror of the weariness that Katsuki felt deep in his bones.

"Hey," Ochaco said softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she closed the door behind her.

"Hey," Katsuki replied, his tone equally quiet. He wanted to say more—to ask her how she was, to tell her he missed her—but the words felt stuck in his throat, suffocated by the weight of everything left unsaid between them.

Ochaco glanced at the cold dinner on the table and then at Katsuki. "You didn't eat?"

Katsuki shook his head, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Wasn't hungry."

Ochaco nodded, her expression unreadable as she slipped off her shoes and walked into the living room. She sat down on the edge of the couch, leaving a noticeable gap between them. The distance felt like a chasm, and Katsuki's chest tightened at the realization of how far apart they had drifted.

For a moment, they just sat there in silence, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. Katsuki could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, the anxiety building with every passing second. He had been dreading this conversation for weeks, but he knew it was inevitable. They couldn't keep pretending that everything was fine when it was anything but.

"We need to talk," Katsuki finally said, his voice rough and strained. It was the same phrase he had rehearsed in his head a hundred times, but saying it out loud felt like stepping off a cliff into the unknown.