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Izuku’s favorite part of autumn was the leaves. Amber and tangerine colored blobs would fly off of tree branches, dancing through the air before making their way to the sidewalk in a decorative blanket. Even in the dark like now, when the moonlight wasn’t enough to luminate their color, Izuku was still able to enjoy the tender crunch that sounded with every press of his shoes to the ground. The unique echoes of fall complemented loneliness.
Except, Izuku didn’t think that he was just lonely. It hadn’t been that simple in a long time. Not since his mom had cried a wet “I’m sorry” into his four-year-old shoulder; not since Bakugou had last smiled at him and willingly called Izuku his friend. Now, Izuku knew the feeling that tickles at the edges of his heart, the constant pressure on his chest and throat, the something that kept him up at night, was more than he could ever begin to describe.
Though, one thing he knew for sure was that it never felt good.
So Izuku had taken to sneaking out at night. When the moon reached his highest point in the sky, Izuku would shrug off his covers that had become suffocating hours before. He’d tip-toe his way down the hall to the front door, and, silent as a whisper, quietly slip out of the apartment. There was a park a few blocks away, so that’s where Izuku spent most of his time wandering.
Focusing on the thuds of his footsteps, for just a few minutes, Izuku could pretend he was weightless. Soothing winds slid across the apples of his cheeks, wiping away warmth and tears from the patches of skin. A force outside of himself propelled his body into motion, making each step a little easier the further away he got from the apartment. Away from his home, his life, and every reminder of the heaviness he carried around with him.
Izuku imagined it often, being able to walk away from everything.
But the crumbling of the leaves always brought him back, away from unobtainable fantasies and the desire for a future of nothingness. Izuku watched his legs as they stepped off of the leaf-covered sidewalk onto rubbery mulch. Taking in the heeltoeheeltoeheeltoe motion of his own body was how he noticed it, lying just to the side of the four swings gently trembling in the dark.
A feather, no bigger than the palm of his hand; fiery red.
Izuku took it in, shuffling just a step closer to get a better look. He’d never seen a bird that color around before. That thought had him looking past his shoulder, up as if he could catch a glimpse of reddened wings spread against the inky shadows of the sky. But there was nothing there, so he forced his eyes back to the lone plumage. Shrugging away the whisper of hesitation, Izuku reached out to pinch his fingers around the feather’s calamus. Flimsy barbs tickled at his knuckles, soft and silky.
He carried the feather home with him.
-
Back in his room, Izuku ignored how an oppressive weight settled over his bones like a layered skin. Instead, he rummaged through the drawer of his desk until he found a necklace deep in the corner. Removing the small All Might charm on it, Izuku gently poked a hole into the feather’s stem before connecting it to the chain. He wound it around his neck and clipped it into place.
The feather looked nice, pretty , lying in the middle of his chest.
-
“Yeah, and what’s this feather about, bird boy? You hoping to grow some wings or something?”
A chuckle chimed after, uncivil and startling, “What do you expect, man? He’s so lame, even as a third year. He still can’t face reality.”
That was enough to attract Bakugou’s attention again. The blonde turned while still in the classroom doorway, cherry-colored eyes honing in on the plume, sitting just as vibrantly red against Izuku’s uniform shirt. It made heat rise up into his nose, spreading out to his cheeks and ears. For two cycled inhales, the air was almost too warm to take in.
Izuku hated it, this instant fever.
“You wanting to fly , Deku? I’ve got just the idea for you, then,” Bakugou stepped closer, leaning down so that their noses were but an inch apart, “if you’re waiting for wings, why don’t you go take a swan dive off the roof? See if they come in any faster.”
Izuku felt something, delicate as glass, shatter within him. He watched Bakugou and his lanking shadows leave the room with unseeing eyes. His limbs were stiff blocks of lead, wading through the thick air as he walked outside, found his notebook drenched, smelling of fish, and watched his feet, heeltoeheeltoeheeltoe back towards his small apartment.
Today , Izuku decided, would be the last time.
-
He did not notice the tiny tingles of vibrations at the middle of his chest as he walked home, the dainty feather swaying when there was no wind.
-
After Mom left for work, placing a kind kiss on Izuku’s forehead before she went, Izuku considered his options. He was too tired to write a note, even at the image of his mom coming home to an empty house, having to learn to fill the space by herself. Even the thought of Bakugou carrying around guilt like a second name, if he cared at all , changed nothing.
The swelling had been around long before the fire of Bakugou’s words licked at his skin. Air had started filling his lungs differently years ago, tasting sour but feeling light; Izuku wondered if he would inflate from it all and float away. If he would forget what it felt like to ever be grounded. He wondered, finally, if that was so bad.
That was it, then. Bakugou had been right. Izuku wanted to be brave.
Wings or not, Izuku wanted to fly .
-
On the walk there, Izuku allowed himself to simply see .
He took in the leaves again, marveling at their color and texture. He noticed the cracks in the pavement that he walked over. It was like an unintended path. A street light flared on one block while another blinked haphazardly, as if unsure of its purpose. Unknowing of how to continue.
Izuku had stopped for a bit, just to watch that light flicker.
From there, it didn’t take long for Izuku’s to take in the skyline, honing in on a building that seemed high enough. He kept his eyes on its protruding shape as he walked towards it. His mind, still, shared not a single whisper with him. The numbing tingle at the ends of his fingers was all that he felt.
So it surprised Izuku when, after making it to the rooftop, the shattering in his chest returned. As if his heart had been rocked out of a deadened state, it began to beat and beat and beat . Tears started just as quick before progressing into sobs and screams that accused the sky of not caring. He looked to the clouds, the moon, continuing on as they did before him, as they would after him, and he hated it.
“I’m just… I’m so tired! Please! P-please make it stop, I just want it to stop!”
The wind quivered at his voice, cold and impersonal. Izuku didn’t notice the feather rocking at his neck until he was standing at the building’s edge. Barbs tickled at his neck, sliding from one shoulder to the other, as if trying to get a hold on his shirt, to hold him back.
Izuku ignored it. Instead, he continued to look down.
The height should have struck fear in him, so he squeezed his eyes tight as if it did. The teardrops were scorching hot between his eyelids, as if burning away at everything inside him. Izuku revelled in the heat, sucking in a deep breath as he dangled one foot off the ledge. In the air. Away from stability.
A single step from death.
And then Izuku was tilting, going perpendicular to the building’s wall with the world’s breath soaring past him. He forced his eyes open, taking in the ground growing closer and closer. It waited at the end of his fall with a promise of something tangy and permanent. Izuku was quick to decide that he wanted it, more than anything. He closed his eyes, hoping the seconds, the pain , would be easier to take if he stopped looking.
And so he did.
And then he fell.
And fell.
Until a pointed pressure pressed into the fabric at his sleeve, jerking his body to the left until Izuku stopped falling, lying slumped in the air. Darkened emeralds took in the surrounding space, only moving with the snap of his neck to peak up when the rushing beat of wings erupted above him. That was when, like a moment from the past relived, Izuku noticed it.
The feather, blazing red even in the darkness, detached from his necklace, holding him up by the give of his shirt.
Another agitated flutter teased at the air. The shift was small, barely jolting Izuku where he hovered, but it was atmospheric. He forced his head to the side, looking for the source of the sound as a panicked wail flew from between his lips. He was moving up, back to the building’s summit, just as green orbs met the wide, golden eyes of reddened winged hero, Hawks.
“Don’t worry, kid,” his voice was almost absent, barely caressing Izuku’s ears just as they floated above solid ground, “I’m here. I got you.”