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Izuku wakes up bright and early. The sun isn’t awake yet but because Izuku fell asleep so quickly last night he’s up without too much fanfare. He’s tired, sure, but he’s just going to nap before breakfast.
His Dad gives him some water, telling him to go to the bathroom so he doesn’t have to when they’re outside.
Outside!
He’s going outside. His Dad had gotten permission from Miyako-san to go outside to see the sunrise if he bundled up, took a thick blanket, and didn't take his shoes off. His Dad bundles him up in sweats, a loose long sleeve, and a hoodie Uncle Zashi had picked up from the apartment yesterday and brought to the hospital when Dad asked. Izuku thinks he’ll be warm enough with just the long sleeve and blanket but he lets his Dad pull long socks on his feet and put Izuku’s shoes on. Izuku kicks his feet, giddy at the thought of finally going outside.
Izuku stands, steadies himself with the help of his Dad, and makes his way to the elevator. The teen and father wait for the elevator and to the teen it feels like forever. If he had the energy Izuku is sure he would be rocking and bouncing on his feet as he waited.
Instead he just taps a rhythm into his thigh as he waits, his Dad holding the thickest blanket known to man. When the doors finally open Izuku has to stop himself from trying to run inside. He waits for his Dad to get in and push the right button, watching the doors close. He watches with rapt attention as the numbers above the door go down before stopping at the first floor and opening to the hallway.
Izuku wants to run but he holds himself back. He can barely walk fast right now, running will not help him. Instead he urges his Dad to hurry and the man chuckles ( chuckles!) at Izuku.
When Izuku finally steps outside for the first time in what feels like forever he breathes in the crisp air. It smells like summer, the grass fresh and green and the trees full with leaves. He can smell the summer breeze and feel the warm morning air. The sun hasn’t risen yet but somehow it’s still warm.
Izuku finds the perfect place to sit on the grass, somewhere he can watch the sky turn its different hues as the sun peeks up over the horizon. Somewhere he can feel the first rays of sunlight hit his face and the wind blow through his hair. Somewhere he knows he’ll be warm and comfortable on the soft green grass with his Dad right next to him.
Izuku sits down on the grass, wanting to take his shoes and socks off so he can feel the grass beneath his feet but he supposes that will have to wait until he’s home and not in the hospital.
His Dad wraps the biggest, fluffiest blanket around his shoulders, making sure all of him is covered before sitting down next to Izuku. Izuku huddles close to his Dad, not quite leaning on him but just close enough that he can hear the man breathing ( he knows the man is audibly breathing for Izuku so he can relax in the comfort of knowing he’s alive .)
Izuku’s so warm in all his layers he thinks he could fall back asleep. He wants to, really, thinks sleeping beneath the rising sun is the best kind of sleep he could get right now.
He doesn’t though. No, that would be a waste. He needs to be awake, needs to hear the first call of the birds, needs to feel as the sun warms the air around him. He needs to breathe in the first light of day with his Dad by his side.
Izuku waits patiently, kicking his feet together like a child, his shoes hitting each other, making a comforting noise ( he’s alive, he’s breathing, he’s here ) as he stares in wonder at the world around him. Being locked up really does make you appreciate all the little things. It makes you appreciate the prickly feeling of the grass against your skin, the crawling sensation of the bugs as they start their morning and investigate you, a large creature in their way, the rustle of leaves as the wind blows through them, the wind rustling your hair and getting it in your face, the sound of the birds cooing as they just start to wake up, the chittering of the squirrels as they start to wake up and get ready to look for their breakfasts for the day, the last hoot of the night owls as they settle down to fall asleep for the day.
Izuku is starting to believe now that all of this is real. That it isn’t a dream. And he will have his bad days where he’s scared to go to sleep, scared of waking up in that dark room, but he knows that he’ll be okay.
He has his Dad with him, his auntie and uncle, his friends, his babies, the world outside.
Eventually the sun rises and Izuku basks in the early morning light, he closes his eyes for the briefest of moments, breathing in and out, feeling the grass beneath his hands. He watches as the stars fade from the night sky knowing the earth will not need their light until night once more, watches as the sun slowly rises, lighting up the sky, illuminating the clouds and the ground beneath it. He watches as the streetlights slowly begin to turn off one by one as the sun continues to rise. He relishes the feeling of the warm summer sun hitting his bare skin, heating him up and making him warmer than he already is. He fully leans against his Dad, thankful that this man worked so hard to save him, to bring him home, thankful that this man, all those years ago, didn’t give up on Izuku and was patient with him.
He loves his Dad, loves the gruff voice, the calloused-soft-rough hands, the messy hair that takes hours to detangle on a good day, the softest, gentlest of smiles, the smell of cats-coffee-home wafting off of him, the food he makes for Izuku, the patience his Dad has with him.
Izuku loves his Dad and knows he is loved in return.
His Dad runs his hand through the back of Izuku’s hair, an action that Izuku knows is all too familiar, something that was so natural, so casual a month ago but makes him jerk away now, afraid. He knows his Dad won’t hurt him, knows the man doesn’t yet know all of Izuku’s newest triggers because Izuku has yet to know them all too, but Shigaraki had grabbed him there, smashed his face into a counter there, made him go half-blind there. His head tingles, anxiety wells up inside him, takes home in the space between his ribs.
Immediately his Dad is comforting him, apologizing for triggering Izuku, promising he’s safe, that he’s not in trouble or going to be in trouble, that he’s okay. His Dad is promising Izuku safety and love and comfort and in return Izuku has given him anxiety and fear.
Izuku doesn’t realize he’s hyperventilating until he finally takes a deep breath in at the behest of his Dad when the man places Izuku’s hand on his chest to follow his breathing. He didn’t realize the back of his head would be a trigger for him, his Dad always touching the top of his head or the sides, never the back. He apologizes once he gets his air back in him, apologizes for ruining the moment, for destroying what little peace they had.
His Dad promises him it’s okay, that he’s not angry, that he could never be angry at Izuku for having trauma. His Dad reassures him that they’ll work through it together, that they’ll learn better how to interact and that they will make mistakes but they’ll learn and they’ll grow.
Izuku nods, tired. He just wants to sit in the sun for a little bit longer before going back inside.
His Dad lets him, sitting back down, hugging Izuku into his side and making sure the teen is wrapped entirely in the blanket.
Izuku closes his eyes, breathes in the scent of his Dad and the scent of the grass around him. He breathes and exists, letting the memory of Shigaraki fade as he takes in the world around him through his other senses. He lets the grass tickle the palms of his hands, the breeze of the wind tickle his nose making him sneeze, the sound of the birds calling to each other now, the bees buzzing around as they go on their daily hunt for flowers.
He exists, lives, breathes, calms, and he does it all by his Dad’s side. He thinks he falls asleep because next thing he knows he is waking up in his Dad’s arms as the man is carrying him back to the hospital room. Izuku doesn’t mind being cradled, held, loved for just a bit longer and lets himself fall back asleep.
He wakes up again to breakfast and his Dad sleeping in his designated chair beside his bed. Izuku smiles at the man and lets him sleep for just a bit longer, waking him up when he thinks it's becoming later in the morning and he knows he’ll have to eat soon.
He thinks no other start to his day could beat the one he had even with the mini episode earlier. It’s not perfect, not really, but it’s the best he will get in a hospital and probably for a long time.