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Izuku likes to watch the warm hues of orange and red paint across the sky in the early morning.
The roof of Heights Alliance provides the perfect viewing spot. Every few days, with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and the haze of sleep curled deep inside him, Izuku climbs the stairs to the rooftop access door and pushes it open. He pads across the gray concrete and settles on the east side.
There’s a small parapet weaving along the edge of the building, decorated with dark specks of dirt and some multicolored paint, which took Izuku a long time to notice. He supposes it couldn’t be helped. He doesn’t exactly study the parapet when the brilliant sunrise dances across the horizon.
Aizawa-sensei surely knows he comes here. There are probably cameras lining the roof, giving access to every angle, including the one that must capture the glow of the sun in the morning.
Izuku once contemplated setting up a camera of his own and recording the sunrise, but it was a fleeting thought. No recording can compare to the breathtaking rainbow of colors that rise into the sky in the morning while the wind blows softly at the pads of his fingers and nips at his nose.
There’s a serenity on the roof that Izuku can’t find anywhere else. When he watches the sunrise his mind clears and the tangle of emotions writing in his chest settles into a deep and peaceful slumber. He gets a considerable amount of thinking and soul searching up here, and second to therapy, he thinks it’s his best coping strategy.
It’s a little melancholy though. He doesn’t know why, exactly. Maybe he wishes he’d done this sooner, on the roof of his mom’s apartment building when he was younger. He could have done with some soul searching then.
He doesn’t have to be anything here. He exists outside of space and time and simply lets it all wash over him. During the day, he’ll be upbeat, bubbly, and determined, but right now, he can just be.
The calm is incredibly cathartic.
Today the orange pools across the sky like a sea of goldfish, swimming for the heavens. Beams of light cascade into the air and illuminate scattered clouds of brilliant white.
It’s so beautiful, Izuku wants to cry.
Instead, he gazes tranquilly, letting the sunrise soak into his bones.
Something behind him creaks, then makes a small whoosh. Izuku knows it’s the door to the roof access stairwell.
He thinks maybe Aizawa’s come to join him, or perhaps Uraraka. She knows how much he loves sunrises up here.
Whoever opened the door pauses for a moment, then shuffles slowly over to Izuku’s side.
He turns his head and looks up at the visitor and the breath stutters in his chest.
“O-Oh,” he says.
Both of them stare at each other for a moment, blanketed by the silence. Then Katsuki lowers himself to the ground and sits criss-cross next to Izuku.
The orange light illuminates the crimson of his eyes like rubies. They glitter over a thousand surfaces, hinting at untold depths.
Izuku could stare into those eyes forever.
Katsuki looks peaceful too, in this glow. The sunrise has that effect. Still, Izuku reads his body language like an open book, glancing over the tense muscles in his arms, the interlocked fingers that grip each other too tightly, like he’s trying to keep a lid closed as it prepares to explode.
Oftentimes, Izuku presses when Katsuki’s like this. Since their relationship has improved, Izuku can get away with poking and prodding Katsuki’s emotional core until the blond haired boy confesses what’s bothering him, or just resolves to let it go and never speak of it again. Sometimes he just explodes in Izuku’s face, but that’s expected, Izuku supposes.
This time, however, Izuku doesn’t push Katsuki. Instead, he turns back to the sunrise and basks in its warm glow again.
He can wait.
Katsuki will come to him.
It takes what feels like hours. Neither of them speak for so long that Izuku’s eyelids begin to droop and his lips part on their own. The sunlight swirls through the sky, flowing across the horizon and painting the edges of the world in exquisite hues.
“...hey.”
“...hi, Kacchan.”
A cloud floats lazily through the air, taking its time crossing the sky without worry. Several smaller clouds float in its wake, each as sweet and slow as the other.
“I’m a shithead,” Katsuki says bluntly.
Izuku turns to peer curiously at him. Katsuki’s hands wind tighter in his lap, and his shoulders hitch. The serene expression falls away, replaced by furiously knitted eyebrows and a jaw set in stone.
“I’m a shithead,” Katsuki repeats, “and I hurt you.”
Izuku’s heart aches. His shoulders droop and his eyes widen in surprise. Did... did he really hear that correctly?
Katsuki’s temples pulse and his eyes dart down, locked on the speckled parapet.
“This is so fucked up,” he whispers.
Izuku doesn’t know what Katsuki’s referring to, but he thinks maybe Katsuki means all of it.
“Yeah, it is,” replies Izuku.
“...I don't-” Katsuki jerks, teeth biting into his lower lip. His throat clicks and he stares so intently at the parapet, Izuku might think he was trying to burn two little holes right through it.
Izuku waits for Katsuki to gather himself.
The blond’s never looked quite like this before, Izuku thinks. In all his memories of their childhood, Katsuki’s always looked strong and immovable, even when he fell down and scraped his knee at the park and held Izuku’s hand all the way home. Izuku supposes he looked strong and immovable in elementary and middle school too. Izuku hated being the target of that strength, yet he admired it. Katsuki would become a wonderful hero, one who could terrify villains with a single look and the pop of an explosion-filled hand.
It was fucked.
“I don’t know how to do this,” says Katsuki, voice thick and eyes down. “And I say that but I do. I just don’t want to admit it.”
“Admit what, Kacchan?”
“That I need to apologize.”
Izuku blinks.
“I need to fucking apologize,” Katsuki growls. “Cause it’s more than just being a shithead. I was fucking cruel and there’s nothing in the whole world that can excuse what I did to you.”
It’s hard to quantify exactly how Izuku feels, hearing those words. He’s not even sure he heard them. Maybe this is a dream or a sunrise-induced hallucination of some sort.
No. No, he heard Katsuki, crisp and clear as the morning air they’re breathing.
“...You’re right,” says Izuku. He sees the way Katsuki’s shoulders instantly hunch and his chest shudders. “It was wrong, what you did to me. And... and also I don’t think you knew exactly what wrong was. No one stopped you. Everyone told you it was okay to hurt me.”
“Don’t try and fucking make this better, ” Katsuki snaps, eyes blazing as they lock onto Izuku’s. “It’s not that complicated.”
“But it is-”
“No it isn’t-”
“Kacchan will you listen to me?!” yells Izuku.
Katsuki’s eyes widen and his jaw clamps shut. Surprise and a healthy dose of guilt etch heavily into his cheeks.
With a huff, Izuku tugs the blanket around his shoulders tighter and looks out towards the horizon again.
“You’re not some horrible monster, Kacchan. You were a kid and we were both mistreated by a deeply flawed system. So cut the shit and stop trying to take more responsibility than you deserve.”
Stunned into silence, Katsuki simply stares, anger lost from his features completely. The sparkle in his red eyes grows, swimming with sunlight.
“You hurt me and you know that,” Izuku says, kindness seeping into his voice. The gentleness of the sunrise permeates his thoughts, warming the ball of emotions buzzing through him. “And honestly, I never thought you’d realize just how much you did. But I can see it in everything you do. Maybe I wouldn’t have accepted this if I hadn’t seen for myself how much you’ve grown."
This is so much more than he ever thought possible between the two of them. That Katsuki would ever make it to this point was a miracle, and somehow...
Izuku is proud.
He’s proud of both of them. They’ve come so far, overcome the odds their twisted, broken society gave them. Now they sit side by side as equals. Someday they might stand together too.
Katsuki makes a choked sound, nails digging into the palms of his hands. He looks tormented, eyes screaming. “It’s just- I can’t just- I need to-”
“Stop that, Kacchan,” says Izuku. “You need to stop doing this to yourself. It isn’t healthy. And I think you’ve punished yourself enough.” His heart overflows for Katsuki. He knows the guilt his childhood friend feels right now must be crushing. Still, he won’t soften his boundaries now. It would be cruel to both of them. “I won’t be the reason you inflict emotional pain on yourself anymore. That isn’t fair.”
Katsuki takes a shuddering breath, then another, blinking rapidly against the sunlight. “Okay,” he whispers.
They lapse into silence. Izuku tugs on his blanket again as a soft breeze flows across the two of them.
The quiet is so comfortable here, but still, he feels the nagging little voice in his brain start to rise up from its slumbering depths, whispering in his ear that he’s not sincere, none of this is real, why would he ever say any of this to a deku like you?
He doesn’t think he’ll ever be rid of that voice. Perhaps, out of all the scars Katsuki gave him, that feels like the harshest, most permanent one.
Izuku swallows thickly. “I don’t think I can forgive you just yet-”
“It’s not about forgiveness. People that make apologies just cause they're looking for forgiveness are fucking stupid.” Katsuki bites, grumbling to himself. “You don’t owe me anything. Certainly not fucking forgiveness, nerd. I don’t care what you fucking do with all of this, I just had to say it, okay?
Izuku blinks. Somehow, despite all the revelations in the conversation, Katsuki’s maturity in this moment still startles Izuku. Kacchan’s always been amazing.
He thinks, though, that maybe his childhood friend is lying, at least about that last part.
Katsuki won’t look at him now, but Izuku sees it. The blond sits very intentionally, every muscle poised, like he’s waiting on the cusp of something.
He does care what happens, doesn’t he?
“So what do we do now?” Izuku asks.
“That’s not up to me,” says Katsuki.
Oh.
He hadn’t thought of that. He hadn’t thought about what would happen after the apology... he didn’t think he’d get one in the first place. Sure, he’d imagined one countless times, but here in the flesh, Izuku feels... lost.
If it’s not Katsuki’s choice, then it’s his.
For the first time in a long time, he gets to decide where they go from here. He gets to choose to have what he wants.
“I... think I want us to be friends.”
Katsuki jolts up, eyes snapping to Izuku’s, eyebrows raised incredulously.
Izuku thinks its rather adorable, how caught off guard he looks.
“But- But I hurt you for ten years!” yells Katsuki, gesticulating wildly.
Izuku smiles so hard his cheeks hurt.
As if he could ever keep Kacchan out of his life. He loves him too much for that. He’s always loved Kacchan, even when he hated him too.
“W-Well then,” says Izuku, vision blurring through the watery sheen across his eyes, even as a warm bundle of joy pops inside his chest. “I guess you’ll have to make it up to me for the next ten.”
“Fuck you,” Katsuki rasps. Izuku's heart leaps. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, Izuku. I won’t half ass anything either.” Despite the tremble at the corner of his lips and the fragility of his eyes, Katsuki grins proudly.
A large, fractured piece of himself finally slides into place inside Izuku’s chest. “Okay, Kacchan,” he chuckles wetly. Ah, now come the tears, after all that.
Izuku sniffles, beaming at his childhood friend even as stray tears slip down his face. They’re going to do so much together, he just knows it. He can’t wait.
On impulse, he leans over and rests his head on Katsuki’s shoulder. Then he buries his face in Katsuki’s neck and wraps his arms around Katsuki’s midsection, clinging to him.
Two tentative, unsure hands reach out around him, silently questioning, not knowing what they’re supposed to do in a situation. But eventually they settle on the small of his back and slowly pull him in.
Izuku’s face crumples. Slowly the tears begin to change from a slow, silent stream into a cascade of water droplets that fleck off his cheeks and soak into Katsuki’s black t-shirt. Izuku’s breath hitches and then he sobs, loud and ugly. Years and years of hurt wash out of his system, soothed by closure that he’d never gotten before. It feels like he’s just come home to the smell of freshly baked bread and crisp linens. It feels like a million sunrises piling their warmth inside his heart.
He cries like the world is ending, like he’s just been born.
He cries until the sun rises far into the sky and the brilliant colors of orange and gold smooth into bright, happy blue. And Katsuki holds him until he cries himself out.
And then they watch the clouds for a long, long time.