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It’s raining.
Before, he liked the rain, loved running around in it and getting his hair soaked. His mother always fretted over him, muttering something about soup and getting sick. As a kid he would only grin and try to sneak out again.
Now, after everything, he hates the rain. Hated the oppressive feeling in the air. Hates the smell before and after the rain. Hates getting wet from the rain. Hates how he could most of the time tell before it came. How his scars would ache and his joints stiffen. Hates how he can’t stop it. Hates how useless he will feel having to just deal with it.
They had won. Peace was brought to earth, they made it so. Yet, he felt so empty. Izuku knows he should be happy and celebrate that they’re still alive, and honour the lives they’ve lost. But, he can’t bring himself to do any of his. He shuts himself off from everyone. Everyone except for one. The one person who’s always been in his life, seen both the best and the worst of him. Seen him cry til he couldn’t breathe, and laugh until he turned red. It’s been years. Like fate always meant for them to be intertwined, two halves of a soul.
A teardrop falls down his window. It hurts.
His chest hurts so bad. Izuku wants to rip off his flesh and breaks his ribs to reach that empty hole that forms in his chest when it rains. That awful hollow feeling he gets whenever that haunting image flashes in his mind. At least he doesn’t spiral into a panic attack anymore. It takes a lot more. Now, he’s just numb. Empty. Just like his chest. His brain reminds him. He clenches his fists, feeling his nails digging into the flesh. It does little to distract him from the trainwreck his brain has him on. It keeps reminding him of his failures, over and over again. Never once growing tired or faltering. The hollow feeling in his chest would amplify. He digs his nails in harder, needing something else. Anything.
“You should relax you hands, you’ll bleed if you continue.” A voice chastises him softly from behind.
When did his voice become so soft when speaking to Izuku, he had no idea. It must’ve been gradual since he didn’t notice until it hit him like a brick wall. Like everything just caved into him once the realisation had been made. How it always seemed to be right by his side whenever he really needed it. How it always calmed him down from the realisation that he fought a war as a kid. A child soldier. How he was always there to tease him. How it always seemed to make him laugh. How it seemed to haunt his dreams. Degrade him. Mock him. Tell him how much he failed him. How it was Izuku’s fault. How it could’ve been avoided had he never gotten that quirk. How it would sneer at him then show him the cold dead body of Katsuki.
It always had him waking up with a gasp, breathing fast and ready to just break down under the words that echoed in his head. The negativity would always come back at his weakest moments. Where no one could see him falling apart bit for bit. He could never really get the pieces back together properly, and would always seem a bit off for a while before he could go back to the happy mask everyone knew. How only one person would call him out on it. Never in public or around their friends. Just when it is them.
A hand softly touches his shoulder. Why is it always so soft? All his touches are so soft and careful like Izuku is something precious. How could he be something precious when he almost lost Katsuki?
“Izuku,” he murmurs, “you gotta get out of your head.”
How could he? Shouldn’t he punish himself?
“Don’t punish yourself, you always did your best.”
“My best wasn’t enough.” He croaks back. His throat hurts. It’s being squeezed by all of his past mistakes. Never letting go, always making it hard to swallow.
Careful hands cradle his face, “I’m right here. Safe and alive. Come to me, Izuku.”
Finally, Izuku can look at him. Alive and fresh out of the shower. He looks at Izuku like he holds the world, no, the universe for Katuski. Izuku knows he looks the Katsuki the same way. How could he not? He almost lost him forever.
“There we go. Hello, baby.” He pulls Izuku in for a hug. “How about we just go back to bed?” He starts pulling Izuku up from the chair he was sitting on in their kitchen.
All disharmony that once occupied his body slowly melting away the longer they touched, the more he could feel the warm skin on his own. A security he needed.
Katsuki lays down first before pulling Izuku over him, positioning him however he wanted it. It takes some finessing until they both are comfortable. Izuku’s head on top of Katsuki’s chest, feeling and hearing his heart bead.
Thump, thump, thump.
So steady and alive. He relaxed and let the the tension that had built up wash away. The rain couldn’t bother him that much with Katsuki by his side, fingers running through his hair. A hand he will put a ring on, showing the world they made it. Though as much as it felt like both sides lost, he at least had his Kacchan. And Katsuki would always have his Deku.
He falls asleep like that. Safe and sound. Laying on top of the person who both blesses and haunts his dreams. He could live with that as long as those comforting hands would always touch him with that softness only reserved for him. Those warm hands that could melt away any stress or knots. That warm smile that made him feel like he was staring at the sun in the middle of spring. That warm heart that will keep beating for years to come.