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The first thing you notice about the new apartment is the smell.
Empty is the first word that comes to mind. Like dustballs and cleaning supplies. It’s not necessarily gross, but the stench reminds you of a storage closet - nothing close to something that you’d even consider calling familiar or comforting.
And yet, as you shuffle to swap out your current sneakers for house slippers, the smell seems to increase tenfold. How did you agree to renting this?
“Oh, look! They left us a homecoming gift!”
Riiiight. It wasn’t just your decision anymore.
The voice of your overeager boyfriend makes you glance over your shoulder just in time to spot his freckled face explode into a grin. Izuku, despite being the saviour of Japan and a grown ass man, never fails to be impressed by the tiniest of things. Sometimes, you wonder if every day is his first day on earth.
“Hopefully some air freshener,” you murmur softly, watching the green haired man slip past you to unwrap the little package with his scarred hands. “Or maybe another pair of house slippers. Yours are falling apart.”
“But they’re Ingenium themed!” He protests, pausing his impeccable unwrapping (read: mauling) to shoot you a dirty look. “I can’t just replace them. They’re one of a kind. I’ll buy new ones when you buy new ones.”
Gulp. Glancing down at your idol themed house slippers that you’ve had for the better part of a decade, you make a note to revisit this conversation later.
“Ah.” Suddenly, Izuku’s voice falls, and you fight back a grimace at the sight of a thick stack of papers in his hands. Resident Information, it reads, devoid of all colour and emotion. “W-Well, that’s… ah, let’s see. Welcome to your new apartment. As part of your stay here, we ask that you abide by our rules to keep the building harmonious and safe. Cooperation is key, as…”
Curfews. Guests. Trash regulations. As much as you love Izuku, the thought of having to read and memorize all this information right now makes your head hurt. Baby steps, and all that.
Obviously, both of you were nervous about this next step - despite having been together for a little over a year, moving in was… serious. Neither of you had really lived on your own, let alone with a romantic partner. Inko had become a little territorial over Izuku after the war, and your family had convinced you that the financial burden of university tuition would be an easier load if you lived there.
But things are different now. Izuku was set to start his first year teaching at UA, and you’d been accepted into graduate school. Coupled with the seriousness of your relationship, it made sense. It wasn’t like the two of you were inexperienced kids anymore.
But at the same time…
Regulations were a problem for later! There’s so many other things to do-- a quick sweep of the apartment… make sure the movers were still on their way…
You’re anxious, damn it!
Sensing your mind elsewhere, Izuku glances up at you and offers a bashful smile. “Baaaaby,” he calls out, giving you the eyes. “These are important. What if we break some serious rule and we get evicted tomorrow?”
Your focus returns to him. “I don’t think that’s how that works, y’kn--”
“But what if!?”
You pinch your nose. His need to be a rule follower is… ironic, to say the least, but you’re aware this is a part of his innate need to please others. Izuku’s lucky he’s cute.
“Can we do this somewhere else?” You suggest, finally shutting the door behind you.The entryway is rather small, and the size isn’t helped by having an ex-hero taking up most of the space. “I want to look around again.”
Hearing him shuffle behind you, you take that as your cue to lead the charge into the empty space. The apartment really isn’t too big - there’s a toilet room next to the entrance, with the washroom and bathing area just next to that. Around the corner, a tiny little kitchen and your future dining area await, with your bedroom off to the left and your balcony door to the right.
Although… eyeing the gap in-between the counters, you make a mental note to call Nitori and ask when the stove is meant to be delivered. Having to live off gifts and takeout did not sound ideal.
“View’s nice,” Izuku murmurs from behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Glad we picked this one and not 502…”
“Mhm,” you hum in response. Sure, the apartment wasn’t much now, but give it some furniture, some scented candles and a week and it’d be heaven on Earth.
Tilting your head back to meet his gaze, Izuku smiles back down at you. “This view’s nice, too.”
“Nerd.” A smile graces your lips, and you crane your neck to press a peck against his lips. Like always, Izuku flushes a pretty shade of red, looking more strawberry than human. “Now it’s perfect.”
That earns you your favourite kind of laugh; the one where Izuku’s chin dimples and he leans down to press the sound against your lips.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
By the time the movers vacate your apartment, you’re about ready to keel over and sleep forever despite not having done any of the heavy lifting.
Izuku had fretted the whole time, mumbling and rambling about where to place what. You’d tried to distract him, but the green haired man was intent on being as helpful as possible, much to the… amusement? chagrin? of the employees.
“Honey, how about you go pick up some drinks and snacks from the corner store?” You’d suggested, having had to forcefully yank him away from the poor employee who was confused why there were several boxes labeled “All Might” and why Izuku was nearly feral when one of the younger men nearly dropped one.
Luckily, disaster had been avoided. The delivery men were very pleased to be given food and had done their best to help set everything up in its proper place… even offering advice on getting rid of the smell!
Now with an apartment full of cardboard boxes, you flop back onto the warm hardwood floor.
Most of the furniture was either given to the two of you by family. An old couch, two desks, refrigerator, TV… you get the gist of it. Minus your bedframe, mattress, treadmill, bookshelves and a few things that hadn’t yet been delivered, everything was secondhand.
Which, by your standards, was fine. You weren’t afraid of assembly or handiwork around the house, but tonight you wanted a break. Alas…
“What the freak,” you mumble tiredly, thinking of the jobs you have left. “Still have to unbox… and build… manual… neighbour’s gifts… organization…”
Where was the time for all of this coming from?
“19:05,” Izuku calls from somewhere out of sight, somehow having read your mind. “We’ve got two hours till quiet time! Well… I guess technically three, but, well, we should probably make a good first impression, and--”
You close your eyes. “Honey…”
“...! Okay! Maybe we can start on the bed?!”
Fuck no, you want to yell. I want to disintegrate into the floor and sleep forever.
Thud. Thud. You can hear the rustling of plastic wrapping being undone. Clearly, Izuku wasn’t really looking for an answer.
Fortunately, you’re also aware of the fact that, at the very least, you will need a bed to sleep in tonight. Just because you have fallen asleep standing up before does not mean you’re looking for a repeat performance.
“Bed first,” you agree sluggishly, already fumbling to your feet and heading towards the pile of smaller objects. “I’ll go get… stuff. Pillows and sheets are… in one of these boxes…”
Which one was it again? Reading the labels, you’re starting to kinda regret letting Izuku organize what each box contained. Knowing him, if it wasn’t merch, he might’ve been doing it by colour. Would he have put it in the bedroom? Fabrics? Washables?
…You get your answer when you read the box at the bottom of the stack. Bedding. Unfortunately, it’s buried under Kitchen Appliances, Computer, Manga (1) and Figurines (5).
Your eyeballs nearly pop out of your head. Why would they set it up like this??? There’s no way I’m lifting all that.
“Izuku!”
Thud. Your boyfriend peeks his head out of your (ours, that’s shared) bedroom. “Yes?”
“Help.” You motion to the frankly comically sized pile.
“Ah!” Eyes crinkling mischievously, the man gladly abandons his unboxing to come assist you, carrying what must be seventy kilo boxes with the same ease you would a feather. “Of course, baby. ‘Zuku to the rescue.”
Despite not being a hero, Izuku had never given up training. Sure, he’d been forced to scale back his efforts without a quirk, but he’d never abandoned his regiment. You’d always found it endearing; Izuku’s dedication to anything and everything certainly was one of his most defining features.
Although… watching his back muscles ripple and move beneath that silly yellow Chargebolt shirt makes you wonder if he’d done this on purpose to show off. Your suspicions are confirmed when he places the manga box on the counter, grinning just a touch too innocently at you.
This prick. He leans over again, and you resist the urge to pinch his ears or ruffle his hair like a misbehaving child.
“Knock it off,” is what you settle for. Only, your voice is too fond to be stern, which just makes him giggle impishly. How this man saved the world will forever be beyond you.
Rolling your eyes as you reach for the one box you have faith in picking up-- figurines-- moving to place it next to the manga. “Yesyes, you’re so amazing. Thank you for your services, my big strong man. I am forever indebted to--”
“Careful, careful!” Izuku’s firm scarred hands immediately wrap around the opposite end of the box, almost yanking it out of your grasp. “This box has priceless, historical artifacts in it!”
Blink. Blink. Blink.
“...Honey.” You watch him place it down gently… almost reverently, the same way you would a newborn child. “They’re All Might figurines.”
When the two of you make eye contact again, the look he gives you can only be described as complete betrayal.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Later that night, the two of you finally huddle into bed together. Everything seems perfect. The mattress was the perfect mixture of firm and soft… you’d gotten this funky gel pillow for your birthday that never seemed to get warm… everything was normal.
“Snrk-”
Well, aside from the obvious addition of a whole new human being, everything felt pretty much the same. It was comforting, in a sense… you hadn’t anticipated ever becoming home sick, but something about knowing your family wasn’t in the next room made you feel a little nervous.
Key word being little. With the way the unconscious Izuku was currently trying to climb on top of you, you weren’t too worried about being alone. Nope, you were definitely not going to forget the feeling of nearly 100 kilograms of muscle smushing you into the mattress.
Maybe we should’ve bought a king.
The worst part is that wiggling away is futile. Each time you manage to create distance, Izuku sleepily paws at the air and lets out these little noises you could only describe as a kicked puppy’s whines. Even in sleep, he’s manipulating you with his cuteness…
When you finally give up on escaping his grasp, he practically crushes you into his chest, determined to not let you go. It would be insanely hot if you didn’t also require a steady stream of oxygen to survive.
After some acrobatic maneuvers, you finally get your face out of his beautiful pecs and rest yourself against his neck.
He smells nice, you think offhandedly, eyes falling closed. Warm, in a way. It’s much more relaxing than the horrid smell of emptiness that permeates the space. I wouldn’t mind staying like this forever.
Of course, the two of you have (literally) slept together before. During exams, both of you had been too focused on studying to do anything particularly romantic other than sleep. It just… had never been like this.
Like what? You wonder, eyes opening again.
Mindlessly, one of your hands comes up to scratch the crown of his head. Izuku melts like sugar in the rain, causing the corners of your lips to push up into a tender smile.
Real, your mind finally supplies. It’s never felt so real. Concrete. Set in stone. This…
I could see the rest of my life being like this.
The thought makes you flush. Ever since you told your parents you were moving in with Izuku, they’d been a little too overbearing. Don’t be hasty, you’re still young. You get attached too quickly, darling. It’s puppy love, you shouldn’t rush--
But being with Izuku felt like a dream. He was your first relationship, and you were his. Maybe there’d been a fair share of awkward, clunky moments, but that’s just how it was. Izuku wasn’t some unstoppable force of nature like the media had painted him to be… he was just.
The Izuku, who had no sense of fashion and had worn the tackiest of All Might branded ties on your first date. The guy who’d nearly broken your nose when he went in for a kiss.
The Izuku, who cried at everything, except when he had to painstakingly prove himself as ‘worthy’ (which was ridiculous) to your parents.
The Izuku who, right now, was groaning at you in his sleep, nudging his head against your hand in an attempt to make you continue scratching his scalp.
You bite back a smile. This is the man you live with now. How he balances being cheek squeezingly adorable and thigh clenchingly sexy is truly a mystery for the ages.
I’m not rushing, you affirm to yourself, ignoring that itching beneath the surface. And…
“...Silly,” you murmur fondly under your breath, continuing your ministrations. “I love you.”
You get an incoherent mmh in response.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
If you thought yesterday was exhausting, the second day was even worse.
“Who the fuck designs a couch like this,” you grumble to yourself, trying to blow up the instructions with your angry gaze. “Maybe we should keep it in the box.”
“Maybe,” your boyfriend sasses, holding his hand out towards you, “we should work on separate tasks. I’ll handle the couch, you help get rid of all these boxes.”
Passing him a screwdriver, you aggressively shake your head. “Nooooo…”
While you were perfectly fine with assembling furniture by yourself, you were also aware Izuku was a bit of a control freak. Since he’s not the most adept with tasks that require finer motor skills-- thank you, crooked fingers-- you were more than content to let him do grunt work.
That’s not including how freakishly quick he is at it. By the time you’d woken up, Izuku had somehow managed to put your dresser, the nightstands, your vanity and his desk together. Watching him work, you’re beginning to consider the possibility that he has a secret eighth quirk.
Not to mention, the view itself is lethal. The air conditioning in the apartment is currently broken (thanks, landlord!), so he’s stripped down to just a pair of cargo shorts. Those toned abs… that line of green hair travelling down his navel… the whirlwind of scars…
Control yourself. You nibble on the inside of your cheek. He’s literally halfway underneath a couch. You’re acting like a teenager who’s just discovered the incognito tab.
“Yeeeeeessss…” Izuku’s fingers wrap around the screwdriver, hand disappearing under the frame of the couch. “Pleeeeeaaaase, pretty baby? ‘Zuku’s got this.”
“‘Zuku’s lucky he’s got a pretty voice,” you huff, patting his thigh and getting to your feet. “‘M probably gonna get our clothes put away, then.”
“‘Kay,” he calls back, engrossed deeply in this new task of his. “I got all the hangers set up in the closet earlier.”
“Thank you…!”
Pushing the boxes of clothes that you’d haphazardly lugged in here this morning towards the walk-in closet, your brain drifts away once more. It’s not like hanging clothes is a particularly riveting task, after all.
And the smell. You seriously need to invest in candles…
Whatever, it’s okay. You glance down at the box of things past-you had had the foresight to define as to-be-hung.
Robes, jackets, suits, overalls, sweaters, uniforms…
…
…
…
By the time you’ve finished putting everything away, your stomach rumbles. Your stove isn’t meant to arrive until tomorrow-- something you’re incredibly grateful for. Bakugou had once complained that his had taken almost two months to get delivered, and you’re not sure if you could handle being robbed of proper food.
No disrespect towards the meal from 7/11 the two of you had shared, of course.
Heading back out to the main area, you spot a nearly perfect living room. Your rug, couches, coffee table and shelves are all set up, even if they’re bare and devoid of much life. Sooner or later, you’re aware every surface of this house will be covered in a mixture of hero merchandise and books.
The perfect blend, you muse, smiling softly at the idea.
“Izuku!” You call out, heading towards the kitchen at the sound of the sink. “D’you wanna go grab some food?”
Turning the corner, you are gifted with the most magnificent sight; Izuku, with his hair all tousled and standing up, chiseled back turned to you as he washes his hands. The afternoon light floats in through the window, illuminating him in a soft golden glow. You’re half surprised there isn't a halo over his head.
As soon as he hears the shuffle of your slippers, he turns about, freckled cheeks crinkling in delight.
“Yes, please,” he nods, looking like a puppy who just got told it’s time to be walked. “We should go out-out.”
You blink. “Out-out?”
“Restaurant out,” Izuku amends. “There’s this hotpot down the street--”
Grumble. Your stomach roars like a ferocious beast, and that’s all that needs to be said. You don’t even have it in yourself to be embarrassed - every genius needs their food, okay?
…Although, some part of you itches uncomfortably at the face he makes.
“Lemme grab a shirt,” he chuckles, voice soft. There’s this stupidly earnest expression on his face as he flicks off the sink and heads towards you. “It’s less than a five minute walk.”
“Hair, too,” you tease.
“Mh.” He leans down in front of you, eyes gleaming. “I think I’m hopeless in that department.”
“You’re hopeless in a lot of them.”
“Not in the food one, though--”
The annoyed huff and light slap he receives from you do nothing but make him grin like an idiot for the next two hours.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
“...Do people even do this anymore?”
“...No idea, but it’s still the polite thing to do.”
Standing in front of your neighbour’s front door after having the feast of your life, you’re starting to regret your brilliant idea of giving the people on your floor welcoming gifts.
After the meal at the hotpot (10/10, would recommend), the two of you had taken to exploring the nearby street in the dying light of the day. It felt like a nice break from being cooped up in the stuffy apartment and a good way to see what was going on.
You’d both agreed on picking a district that was relatively quiet, so it’s not like you were sure what to expect. Somewhere close enough to the heart of Musutafu for easy commutes for work and social events, but far enough away to avoid any dangerous neighbourhoods or high budget apartments.
Luckily, it did not disappoint. The streets bordering your building were packed with tons of quaint family businesses. The two of you had filled up your totebags-- Izuku with his brand new Dynamight themed toiletries, and yours with a variety of soaps and sweets that anyone would enjoy.
Although, that anyone bit was currently being contested.
“Should we knock?” You mumble, scratching your cheek with the hand that isn’t currently trembling around a gift basket. “...Y’know. Introduce ourselves?”
“Eum…” Izuku stares back at the door. 506. His familiar mumbling is nowhere to be found, leaving the two of you stranded in the empty hallway. “It’s nearly 20:00. I wouldn’t want to bother them…”
Them. You sincerely regret not asking the landlord what type of people lived on your floor. For all you know, they could be loud foreigners that love to party or disgruntled elderly citizens who hate joy.
“...”
The two of you fall into an awkward silence.
It seems to stretch on for an eternity, the quiet nearly deafening. This shouldn’t even be that difficult of a task. Just knock on the door, you’ve done it a million times before--
“Maybe just leave it,” you mumble after a while, eager to get back home. “W-We wrote them letters, anyways… they can come visit us if they’d like.”
Izuku nods stiffly. “Yeah. Of course.”
…
…
…
“You have to put it down,” he reminds you gently, fighting back amusement.
“Y-Yeah. Totally.” Your limbs are creaky and stiff like a robot as you bend over, setting the gift basket down like it’s a bomb ready to blow at a moment’s notice. “See? Look. Incredible.”
“Of course,” he repeats, voice hoarse.
“Stop that.” The side eye you give him is deadly.
“Stop what?” Izuku, unable to help himself, finally gives in and lets out a giggle. A lot of them, actually.
“It’s not that funny.”
“It’s pretty funny.”
“Is not!”
“C’mon. Let’s hand the rest of these out before we get caught.”
“Tch.” You roll your eyes at him, allowing yourself to be tugged away. “What a brave hero you are.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
That night, tucked underneath your fuzzy royal blue blanket, everything crashes. That out-of-place feeling returns with a vengeance, no matter how much you’d been pushing it away.
Even the mattress is plotting against you. No matter what position you slip and slide into, you cannot find a comfortable spot to fall asleep in.
It feels like there’s something itching beneath your skin. Some sort of feeling that’s burrowed deep into your soul, determined to make you uncomfortable.
Your wriggling is so incessant that not even Izuku - who you have witnessed sleep through a goddamn earthquake - can fall asleep.
“Baby,” he grumbles, tugging on your sleep shirt. “Stoop…”
In this state, Izuku’s at his most vulnerable. The air conditioner still has not been fixed and tonight is the most humid night on record, so he’s stripped down to just boxers. Something about the sight soothes and yet terrifies you to your core.
“Can’t,” you huff. “‘S not…”
Familiar?
Fuck, I can’t do this. With an even larger huff, you sit up and roll out of bed. The floor feels cold beneath your bare feet, and you resist the urge to shudder and crawl back into bed. Instead, you find yourself heading out to the kitchen to get a glass of water.
One glass becomes two. Two becomes three.
Eventually, you decide your throat isn’t dry, but you still can’t go back to bed. You fumble towards the old familiar couch, flopping onto your stomach with a soft oof.
At least it’s warm…
You’re not really sure how long you lay there, still unable to find comfort. The couch is marginally better than your bed, but not in any realistically helpful sense. All it does is make you long to be back in your childhood room.
Pitter, patter. You look up from where you’ve burrowed into the couch cushion to where Izuku is currently yawning, swaying weakly on his feet.
“Cmback t’bed,” he slurs, taking another step towards you.
You really should, you reason. You slept fine last night…
“I can’t,” you mumble sheepishly, cheeks flushing a soft pink.
Pad, pad, pad. Izuku winds up flopping onto the couch next to you, heavy arm draping around your waist. The feeling returns.
“Whaswrong?” He murmurs, voice still raspy with sleep but clearly more aware than just a moment ago.
The worst part is, you’re not entirely sure how to answer him. Nothing is wrong. These past two days have been lovely-- you’ve been nothing but excited to come live with him, and he’s been a joy to be around this whole time. But the apartment itself…
“...I dunno,” you reply, feeling ill. Everything just kinda feels wrong. Even if you had an explanation to give, the words get choked up and buried in your throat. “I…”
Izuku’s hand moves to press soft circles into your back. “Shh,” he breathes, warm air tickling the back of your neck. “Breathe, baby. ‘S okay…”
Oh, this isn’t fair. Your heart clenches up. How is he always so assured in situations like this?
“...Sorry,” you choke out, trying to resist tears. I don’t know why I’m crying, this is dumb, this is stupid--
“Noo--” Izuku’s other hand comes to wipe them away just as quickly as they appear, rough fingers caressing your face. “Shh, shh. Just breathe.”
You do that.
With each soft thump of his heart, you let out a little breath. Izuku rewards you with these soft little whispers of your name, touch soft and reverent. Each stroke of his thumb against the swell of your cheek feels like a promise-- of what, you’re not quite sure.
You manage to find your voice again.
“...I’m nervous.”
Izuku just hums, not adding much of anything. You find yourself wishing he did-- despite your usual ability to articulate your feelings, right now it seems impossible. This is a bridge you’re not sure how to cross.
Eventually, he seems to realize this. “About what?”
“Dunno.” You close your eyes, wishing for the umpteenth time that the couch would swallow you whole. “Everything?”
That chokes an awkward, stunted laugh out of him before he immediately retreats. “Sorry, sorry, this is not the time… fuck, okay. Um…”
Izuku’s hesitation makes the tightness in your chest unwind just enough to join in on his awkward laughter, which in turn makes him curl around you further.
“Let’s try this again,” he suggests, hand moving to trace figure eights along the valley of your spine through your shirt, ignoring the way you shudder. “Are you nervous because of me?”
This makes you pause. You love Izuku. He is home personified. The idea that he thinks he’s the cause of your discomfort…
And yet.
“N-No,” you manage, throat feeling dry. “Yes. Kind of… I guess… I guess I’m scared of everything changing. More than just… where we live, but that doesn’t really help, either.”
“Changing?” You don’t need the lights on to understand the intense gaze he’s currently serving you.
“...I like us,” you explain timidly. “I like this. Bantering. Sharing food. Working. Sleeping. I guess I just… I’m worried that it’ll pass. That it won’t be fresh and new for very long, and…”
Is this stupid?
“...And you’ll get tired,” you finish. “When we didn’t live together, there was always some sort of… mystery or allure. Right now, we have unpacking. But after that…”
“...The honeymoon’ll end?”
Your mouth falls shut at his words, at the precarious tone he’s taken. Maybe you should’ve turned on the light to see his expression-- is he frowning with his eyes crinkled? Are his brows furrowed? Is his jaw tense?
Would anything really change if you could see his face?
You nod.
“Baby,” he begins again, hands abandoning their post to gently manhandle and flip you onto your back. You don’t get time to think - Izuku presses his nose against yours, and you can see his face from this angle.
“I love you,” he murmurs, voice solemn. “I… I don’t think I know how to not, at this point. You’re the one person I can't imagine my life without. If the apartment’s bothering you, we can fix it.”
Everything freezes. You’re the one person I can’t imagine my life without.
“...!?” You can’t stop the little gasp that escapes your lips. And of course, Izuku just giggles like always.
“Don’t say stuff like that if you're not serious," you grumble, cheeks a furious red.
Izuku rubs his nose against yours. “But it’s true…”
That’s the worst (best) part about it. Izuku has been nothing but painfully honest with you since the beginning. Every time you’ve had anxieties, he’s waited. Even when you’ve pulled away or been too hesitant to make the first step, Izuku’s always the one to reel you in.
You’re the one person I can’t imagine my life without.
You’d thought the same thing about him just last night. So… it’s okay, right? You know you have a propensity to be… intense, or too much. You’ve worked so hard to not do that this time, and…
You must be brooding for too long, because Izuku lets out an annoyed whine and rubs his nose against yours again. “Baaaby… tell me what you’re thinking…”
You groan bashfully, lightly tugging on his hair. “I… That I… wouldn’t… that I dunno if I have a life without you, either.”
“...!?” Now it’s his turn to stiffen up against you, lips curving into a hopeful smile. His hands make their way back up to your chin. “D’you really mean that?”
“Y-Yeah.” You smile back in (what you hope) is a mirror of his expression.
Izuku remains silent for just a moment longer, and for a second you’re worried you said the wrong thing. That maybe you misunderstood, maybe it’s too much--
“God,” he murmurs instead, pressing his face into your neck. “You’re so cute, I just wanna bite you.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
The days pass pretty quickly after that.
Your stove is delivered and properly set up, with no thanks to Izuku, who was more focused on describing how much he missed your katsudon and every other dish you’ve ever cooked in your entire life.
The rest of the unpacking is pretty nondescript, too. Aside from receiving an annoyed phone call from the landlord about the air conditioner, the two of you are in the clear. Your empty apartment is filled with colour and life.
A week goes by. Two. Three.
Izuku doesn’t tire of you. It sounds sweet on paper, but it doesn’t stay sweet for very long. Due to classes picking up for the both of you, your time together doesn’t overlap as much. To remind you he cares, Izuku loveably decides to surprise (read: scare) you at every opportunity-- which, in turn, leads you to fucking with his razor and hiding his favourite mugs.
(That did not end favourably for you.)
A month passes. Two months pass. You’re not really sure when that empty stench disappeared, but you really notice its absence while you’re waiting for the soup to boil over. It sort of dawns on you that you don’t itch standing in the entryway anymore.
By the time the third month rolls around and Izuku is proudly showcasing his new house slippers (still Ingenium themed, minus his big toe slipping out of the front) and yapping about all the different merchandise deals his friends have signed, it fully clicks.
"Candles," you mumble to yourself.
Izuku pauses his ramblings for just a moment. "Eh? Did you want some? Kacchan has these caramel scented ones. I don't know his agency managed to get him to agree to it, but--"
You shake your head, not realizing that a smile has begun to spread across your face. "'S okay. Already smells like home. It'd be weird."
Izuku's smile is so blinding that you wonder if maybe you'd inadvertently said yes. But he just nods.
"You're right, baby. Although... maybe we should get a new shoe cubby. Y'know, Todoroki-kun just announced--"
"Don't even think about it."