the day it stopped raining | midoriya izuku

33 | gutter sun

TOKYO
27°C
SUNNY

Everything felt like a senseless dream. To see the golden hues painting the cracked alleyways and glaring windows: that familiar and wishful warmth engulfing bloomed flowers and the tip of our noses. The certain white shade of the clouds in the sky reminds him of a fairy he saw in a fairy tale once, though his green eyes contrast the sun splendidly.

It should be beautiful.

So why does he find the sunny sky gloomy?

Was he...relieved? No. No, he wouldn't say that. But as much as the weather's back to normal, Midoriya felt torn between wanting to feel happy for the city or worry for her. When he looked down on the busy streets of the city, he could tell everyone's in their best mood since they were back to their regular lives whenever the sun was involved. He could see kids skipping around hand in hand with their friends in parks. He could see birds flocking the trash at the back of alleys. He could see people chasing cars. He could see the smiles back on their faces as he patrolled the sunlit streets.

How could he relate? He should be glad, but it sounds so selfish in a way. Because someone's life is at a standstill as the world moves on. How can he be calm and shine as a hero when Midoriya could still feel the world raining down on him?

The rookie blankly stares at the half-eaten sandwich in his hand, the back view of his legs dangling off the edge of the rooftop, the blur of moving circles and vehicles. The cool wind blows past his cheeks, hair dishevelling from the sun-kissed wind, warmth lingering on his skin. Part of him feels out of place, out of this world, out of everything. He thought he was delusional when he still sat there, feeling dry and clean, not soaking wet with rain constantly trailing down his numb skin. He felt as if he was suddenly plunged into paradise after suffering in hell for eternity.

With the sunlight casting over him like a spotlight, his features were prominent, and as prominent they were, his dark circles could be seen underneath his eyelids. Those forest green eyes that used to have a certain shine on them seemed to dim, like a firefly losing its light as it succumbs to the nature of death. His round eyes were once wide and full of wonder, but now they looked like he's been getting less sleep or not a blink. Midoriya looked tired. Mentally exhausted. Emotionally drained. He too just remembered he cried to sleep once a few days ago. Mirko blatantly questioned his puffy eyes that day.

He took another bite of the bland sandwich.

It's been over a week since that incident. It's also been two days since she woke up.

Five days. It took her five days to wake up from a minor injury—at least that's what the doctor said.

Even though Midoriya wasn't an expert in medical aid, except he could tend to himself a few scratches to himself, the impact of the fall wasn't fatal. Although she did bleed quite a lot, it should've taken a day to wake up. But...five days.

And it made sense, really. Because aside from a minor head injury, the doctor eventually found out about her depression, overdose attempt, eating disorder and borderline personality disorder—which results in her weak body and a longer time to heal.

Midoriya knew that.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he looks down at the city.

He knew that more than anyone because he was there. He was with her. He saw all those bags of trash and littered clothes. He saw the exhaustion in her eyes since day one. He observed the way she behaved. He noticed how she tries not to feel angry and upset because it's tiring. He saw the little things that made her sad, disappointed, tired and unhappy.