Revelation

6 July: I'm Home

You wake up alone on the couch. For some reason, you were expecting Izuku's strong arms around you because there's no way you could have slept that well alone. Apparently, the proximity to Izuku is enough to trick your mind into being safe. Go figure.

Life still goes on, though. You heave your relatively light bag pack and set of in the morning to go home.

The journey home is a beaten path. It's instinctual at this point. The bumpy bus ride downhill and the walk past the sole florist that managed to stay in business. Past the jewellery store and up the flight of steps. You could walk home in your sleep.

Open arms and welcoming embraces greet you, and your parents take one look at your eyebags and pale face before herding you in for your favourite home-cooked meal.

It was only when you sat down at the table to eat that your father whispered one word.

"Why?"

Eyebrows knitted, you reply. "Why what?"

"That boy...Izuku. Why are you still thinking of him?"

The wooden tiles of the flooring feel like snowy hilltops under your feet.

Your father is angry, you realise.

"I don't like this boy." Your father looks at you behind glasses. Leave it to your Dad to be mad at the Saviour of the world.

You must be doing a horrible job at hiding it then. "It's not his fault. If anything, it's mine. He took the blow for me. He pushed me out of the way."

You don't know what your father's eyes see. It sees his daughter chasing someone out of reach. It sees nights full of demons and monsters that cause his little girl to scream. It sees someone scratching at a scab, never allowing it to heal.

It sees the pain and the sorrow Izuku's caused you, and it sees red.

"You've known Izuku a long time, Dad. You know he wouldn't ever hurt me." You say, eyes trying to meet your father's cold gaze.

"I'm not worried about that. Y/n." He says, eyes turning down its intensity. He closes the book that he was reading and slides it on the coffee table. "I'm afraid that you keep hurting because you can't bear to forgive yourself."

A sob rises to your throat, and grief squeezes your lungs. Does it really look like that?

"We all know it could have been much worse." Your mother says from the doorway. She has a sixth sense like that, always knowing when something is about to go wrong or when you need her the most. She calls it the invisible umbilical cord, one that was never really cut when she gave birth to you.

She doesn't elaborate on what 'much worse' is, but its implications hang heavy in the air. In the early days, you used to dream of what could have been if the man's Quirk was physical instead of mental oriented. Misshapened faces and gory blood sowed the seeds in the first of your nightmares. Then came the knives, the daggers, and large swords. A child's imagination is powerful, and that day, if Izuku died instead of you, your entire world would have imploded.

It twisted itself, because out of all possible outcomes, this was the best for him.

Forgive yourself? Part of you doesn't want to. When you're so wrapped up in self-hatred, it makes it difficult to let go. Even if forgiveness is given to you, even if Auntie Inko lets you stand by his side and begs for you to raise your head, it's difficult to feel light when you know you deserve the weight of the sky.

This feeling is all you've ever known. If you let go, what do you have left?

"I'm sorry, Dad." the words slip out in pieces. "I'm sorry, Mom."