Mha oc

Cleaning.

I pushed the door open to the house, stepping into the silence that greeted me. It felt heavy, like the walls themselves knew what had happened. My chest tightened as I locked the door behind me, and for a moment, I just stood there, staring at the familiar space that felt too still. 

The cats greeted me first. Snickers, the grumpy old man of the house, stared at me from his perch on the couch, his ears twitching in vague acknowledgment. Skittles strutted over, her entitled little paws clicking against the hardwood floor, demanding attention as always. Reeses, the chaotic middle child, zoomed out of nowhere, circling my legs like a whirlwind before darting off again. 

"Hey, guys," I murmured, my voice hollow. I reached down to scratch Skittles behind the ears, but my hand trembled slightly. 

I shook it off. **Focus.** 

Without even thinking about it, I moved to the kitchen and started with their food bowls. Fresh water, clean dishes, the good kibble—they deserved the best. Reeses pawed at my leg, his crackhead energy barely contained, and I gave him a quick rub before he darted away again. 

Once they were settled, I turned to the house. 

I didn't think about it. I just started. 

Dishes first. I scrubbed each one like it was covered in grime, even though they were already clean. My hands moved on their own, the repetitive motion soothing in its monotony. When the sink was empty, I wiped down the counters. Twice. 

The living room came next. I vacuumed every inch, moving furniture to get at the spots no one ever saw. Dusting followed, every surface wiped until it gleamed. My body moved mechanically, my brain too full of everything to focus on any one thing. 

Mic's voice startled me when he called from the hallway. 

"Hey, kid, you doing okay?" 

I glanced over my shoulder to see him leaning against the doorframe, his usual energy muted. His face was soft, concerned, but I couldn't meet his eyes for long. 

"Yeah," I replied, my voice clipped. "Just cleaning." 

He didn't press. "You want some help?" 

I shook my head, already turning back to the coffee table. "I've got it." 

Mic hovered for a moment before sighing and retreating. I heard him in the kitchen, probably making tea or messing with the radio, but I didn't stop to listen. 

Upstairs was next. The bedrooms, the bathroom, the hallway—I scrubbed and swept and dusted every inch. My room was the last one I touched. 

It was the hardest. 

The bed was still messy, the way I'd left it that morning before heading to school. The scarf Aizawa had given me when I was younger was draped over the headboard, and I froze for a moment when I saw it. 

My hands clenched into fists, and for a second, I thought I'd cry again. But I didn't. Instead, I grabbed the scarf, folded it neatly, and placed it on the pillow. 

By the time I finished, the house was spotless. Every nook and cranny was clean, every speck of dust banished. I stood in the middle of the living room, my chest heaving, my arms heavy, but my mind was still racing. 

Mic walked in again, holding two mugs of tea. He set one down on the coffee table and nodded toward the couch. 

"Sit," he said simply. 

I hesitated but eventually sank onto the couch. Skittles immediately climbed into my lap, purring like she owned the place, and I let her. 

Mic sat beside me, not saying anything, just sipping his tea. The silence stretched between us, but it wasn't uncomfortable. 

"You don't have to do this alone, you know," he said eventually, his voice quiet. 

I didn't respond right away, my fingers running through Skittles' fur as I stared at the clean floor. 

"I know," I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. 

And for the first time since stepping into the house, I let myself breathe.