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Thunder shook the dark, cloud-laden sky. Rain fell in sheets, soaking the ground and angering the ocean. Waves crashed against the cliff face below, saltwater keen on tearing the rockface apart. Lightning cracked across the sky, piercing the grey, black clouds with white-hot spears. Wind tore at his hair, chilled his rain-laden skin, ripped leaves off of nearby trees.
He screamed his agony in time with the roaring thunder, felt his heart creak and break with each blinding-bright lightning flash. Tears did not fall with the rain. Perhaps he had ran out.
Perhaps crying meant accepting the truth.
He did not cry.
Waterlogged red shoes stood shoulder-width apart, planted as if to battle the very storm he screamed with.
Scarred, battle-weary hands clenched in fists at his sides, bones broken and healed again and again- too many times- creaked and ached and burned in the chill storm air. The cast for his sprained wrist- had been broken, before Recovery Girl healed it as far as she was willing- was sodden, when it certainly wasn’t supposed to be. The joint pulsed with pain and ache.
He didn’t truly feel the pain, entire body numb in grief and cold.
Any warmth his hooded sweater would’ve provided was long absent, dark fabric soaked through, seeping away any warmth he might’ve had.
Another scream- sob- ripped from his throat as the sky shook once more. Following lightning blinded him. Viridian eyes closed tight against a sudden shift in wind, rain pelting his face and flattening his curls against his head, plastered them to his forehead and the nape of his neck.
The next crack of lightning brought with it a terrible crack through his chest, a chasm growing too empty, too dark, too big .
How was he supposed to close that?
His knees hit the ground, uncaring of the mud and puddles he kneeled in. Arms wrapped around himself, he bent forward, sobs and keens crawling out his unyielding throat, ripping through the meager defenses to escape in the wind.
It hurt.
Footsteps just behind him, barely heard over the rain. The owner of those footsteps was certainly stomping to make themself known.
“No,” he choked out. Not now , he wanted to finish. I can’t do this right now.
“Izuku,” the man behind him spoke, voice soft, barely heard over the pouring rain. Gentle, brought with him the memory of warmth, of late night talks in their dorm rooms, of soft lips and softer hair between his fingers. He couldn’t decipher the emotion behind his spoken name. Perhaps there were too many to count the individuals.
Izuku squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. Hoping, in vain, that his silence would make the other leave.
A sigh, the rustle of movement. Warmth seeped into his side as his companion sat next to him, radiating purposed heat.
Izuku fought against the urge to lean into him, curling further in on himself; said in warning, “Leave, Shouto.”
“I won’t,” Shouto answered, his hand coming to rest on Izuku’s shoulder, heat seeping through his sodden sweater. Noted, “You’re freezing.”
Izuku bit into his lip, hard enough to draw blood, if the sudden flood of warmth against his tongue was any indication. He swallowed, tasted iron, “I don’t want you here.”
“I know. I’m staying, anyway.”
Another sob broke free of his throat, shook his chest. Shouto pulled him closer, flush against his side. Only then did Izuku realize how badly he was shivering.
His eyes burned.
Thunder rolled and roared seven more times- Izuku counted, if only to reign in the saltwater in his eyes- before Shouto spoke.
“I’m not good with words, Izuku. Not like you are. Not like… Not like he was.” Izuku’s breath hitched. Shouto’s arm around him tightened. “I don’t know what you need to hear, to make this better. But, I’m here, okay? Everyone is here for you. We all know how close you two were.”
Izuku held his breath, desperate against the looming tears, “H-How’s Kacchan?”
Shouto’s chest lifted in a sigh, perhaps weary of Izuku’s penchant to shift the subject away from himself, “Bakugou’s fine. Staying overnight in hospital for observation.”
Izuku nodded, hating himself for being the one to walk away without major injury- just a messed-up wrist, some scrapes and bruises.
He could’ve moved faster. Been better. Could’ve saved him. If he had just reached for those last few inches -
The thought brought with it a fresh wave of sobs and a torrent of words, “It was my fault. I could’ve- I could’ve saved him. He was so close. If I just reached a little further I could’ve grabbed his hand- I watched him die because I was too slow-” Another sob, another ache in his throat. “It’s my fault he’s dead.”
Shouto twisted, wrapping both arms around Izuku now, chin atop rain-flattened curls, “His death is not your fault, Izuku. We can’t always save everyone. And I- I know All Might would’ve been proud of you, for every other life you saved.”
Izuku shook his head weakly, face pressed against Shouto’s chest.
Izuku sprinted through the creaking building, green lightning flashing across his limbs. His eyes watered with the dust and smoke in his eyes. His feet landed lightly, carefully- don’t disturb the unstable ground- Viridian eyes flicked back and forth, looking for civilians.
The high rise had collapsed in a sudden, terrible explosion from a supposed skirmish between villains. He and Kacchan, on patrol for their work studies, had been first on the scene. They had immediately conducted rescue efforts. Even now, very few other heroes had shown up, much less those with quirks most suited to working within an unstable building.
That hadn’t stopped Kacchan and him, of course.
“Hello! Can anyone hear me! Call out if you can hear me!” Izuku shouted, voice distorted by the mask over his face.
They were running on borrowed time. Each second that passed risked what was left of the building crashing down on them.
A ragged cough, wet and painful. Too familiar.
Izuku’s breath seized. He ran for the sound.
He rounded a corner, jumped over a pile of rubble, shouted, “All Might!”
Izuku could just see the unruly gold mane of his mentor through the fallen slabs of concrete and rebar. All Might lay prostrate on the ground, blood dripping down his forehead. Dazed blue eyes met his. Izuku swallowed. Took stock of the situation. They were close to the initial blast here, the walls and ceiling, even parts of the floor, had completely caved in, creating a precarious, treacherous environment to traverse. A lot of the space was too tight to fit through. But- maybe-
The building groaned, rebar grating against concrete and steel.
Izuku moved, footsteps cautious as he stepped into the room, “All Might! It’s going to be okay. I’m coming to get you!”
All Might coughed, “...young Midoriya.”
Izuku smiled, hidden behind his mask, “I thought I said you could call me Izuku.”
All Might smiled back, “And I told you to call me Yagi.”
They both ignored the groans as the building shifted, shattered concrete dropping a dangerous few inches.
“I guess old habits die hard,” Izuku laughed weakly. “Maybe, after this, I’ll listen and call you that, All Might.”
“Certainly, my boy.”
Izuku got as close as he could, feet balanced around a hole in the floor, fallen concrete keeping him from moving further, “All Might, I can’t go any further, if you can reach out-”
All Might nodded, another cough wracking his form. He stretched out his too-thin arm, large hand reaching for his gloved one. Izuku strained, braced against a semi-stable concrete piece, reaching for his mentor. All Might was thin enough to slide through the gap that Izuku couldn’t- if only he could just reach him- He couldn’t risk breaking the rubble blocking him- it could bring the entire building down on all of them-
The building screeched and keened, shook and rumbled. Izuku fought back tears. Just a little further.
All Might coughed, bringing his reaching hand back to his mouth, blood seeping between his teeth.
The fall must’ve hurt him- hurt his already broken side-
“All Might! Come on! I can get you out! Just grab my hand!”
All Might smiled, gentle and sad, tears pooling in those sky blues that had always, always filled Izuku with hope and courage, “I’m sorry, young Midoriya. I don’t think-”
The building rumbled again, a crash too close shaking the ground beneath them.
“No, no no no, I’ll get you out, it’s okay-” Izuku rambled, gaze darting around- should he just break the rubble and hope that the fallout wouldn’t bury them alive?
“Izuku,” All Might sighed. Izuku froze. Tears fell down those hollow cheeks, his smile gentle and bloody. “It’s okay, my boy.”
“No!” Izuku cried out in terror, reaching desperately for his mentor’s hand through the crumbling slabs of concrete and rebar.
Warm hands grabbed and wrenched at his shoulders just as the building gave one final scream.
And then the building had shifted, crashed, swallowed All Might whole, broke Izuku’s wrist and cut open his eyebrow, concussed Kacchan and broke his arm. The first responders hadn’t been enough.
Kacchan had to bodily drag Izuku, kicking and screaming, from the collapsing building.
Izuku hadn’t found out why All Might had been in that high-rise to begin with.
Six people died. Twenty-one injured, heroes and hero work-studies included.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Izuku breathed into the sanctuary of Shouto’s collarbone. “He was- He was supposed to be there when I graduated. He was supposed to watch me become the world’s greatest hero.”
Shouto tightened his hold around him, pressed his lips to Izuku’s hair, “I’m sorry.”
That wasn’t what he needed to hear.
There was nothing else to say.
The tears burned as they fell, the knot in his throat choking him with each wracking sob and grieving keen. His hands twisted and pulled the fabric of Shouto’s coat as they clenched into fists.
The chasm in his chest ached with the rush of cold, black grief.
Shouto’s fingers carded through his hair, nails gentle against his scalp. He offered no words, for there were none to say. Shouto held him tight as Izuku fell apart in his arms, rain mixing with the tears on his face.
Thunder rumbled, lightning cracked, rain fell.
The waves crashed against the cliffs.
Shouto kept Izuku’s head above water, as the grief tried to drown him.