~ Third Person P.O.V ~

"I'm sorry,"

Those two simple words. They're seemingly harmless on the outside looking in, a mere saying one voices when he, she, or they are at fault. Those two simple words penetrated through Izuku's ears like a wrecking ball, using so much force it nearly robbed him of his breath. However, it did rob him speechless. Izuku knew the meaning behind Katsuki's words, yet couldn't bring himself to believe them just yet. So he did what he usually does whenever he is uncertain or skeptical . . .

With a stoned-over face, he puts on his mask. Face unapproachable and cynicality dripping from every crevice his features provided. Izuku cocked an eyebrow, prompting the male to continue.

"I— fuck . . . Look, Small Fry, I'm not fond of you that much is very evident but— but I don't hate you. You're an inconvenience, but I don't loathe or despise you I just . . . I guess you were just the easiest person I could take my pent up pain out on." Katsuki admitted.

Fuck it, if he was going to go all out and breakdown— he was going to do it thoroughly. The worse that would happen would be getting yelled at by the smaller male, but it wouldn't matter because at the end of the day he'd feel better for getting it all out. Right?

"You're the new guy, everybody else hated you so it was just easy to 'hate' you too. You didn't do anything wrong . . . But I was still an asshole and I'm sorry, I'm really fucking sorry," By now the blond's hands were clasped around his arms in a self-soothing kind of gesture. Voice hardly audible.

And through it all Izuku remained quiet. Not a single sound slipping past those pink lips as he monitored the elder's every expression or movement. His ears trained in on every word, every syllable, and the tone Katsuki spoke in. Trying to detect at least a small hint of skulduggery underneath his apology, just something. Something to reinforce his facade to the next level— Izuku was just looking for an excuse not to feel sympathy for the male.

Izuku was just looking for an excuse to not allow himself to crumble as well.

Izuku was just looking for one, damn, excuse.

And fuck, he couldn't find that excuse. No matter how hard he looked, how hard he listened, or how hard he wanted to stay flaming with rage. He couldn't. After a while of keeping his guard up, it became exhausting on him, on his mind, body, and soul. Because that just wasn't the type of person he was.

He is his mother's son. No matter how hard they tried they could never truly hate someone. Could they put up a front? Yes. Would it last long? No.

Of course, there were still bits and pieces of it left— because is, and probably always will be a stranger to him. But he could feel himself blooming open, even if it wasn't much.

"I can't really be too pissed at you for it," Izuku heaved a sigh, before muttering under his breath, "As much as I want to."

Quirking one, bushed, ash-blond hued eyebrow, Katsuki cambers his head off to the side. "Oh? And why is that?" He asked, inquisitiveness replacing any traces of guilt that lingered on his tongue.

The younger stiffened, eyebrows pulling together and furrowing his forehead up as he pursed his lips. Just because he wasn't feeling as guarded anymore doesn't mean it still wasn't there.

"C'mon, Small Fry, I already told you my reasoning . . . We might as well make the most of while we're in here, huh?" Katsuki pressed, genuine curiosity lacing his tone as he slightly shifted forward.

Fluttering his emerald eyes shut, Izuku puffs out a controlled breath from his nostrils. "I guess . . . I may or may not have been doing the same thing too." He admitted reluctantly. "With that being said, I'm not going to apologize because you were an asshole right off the bat," Izuku added quickly, jabbing a pointed finger into Katsuki's chest.

So he pivoted. Who cares? Sue him!

He still wasn't going to just unload all of his family issues onto a boy he was still barely fond of. He wasn't just going to unload all of his internal emotions onto Katsuki. But he would, however, learn to grow a new sense of respect for the blond male— something he'd probably never have with Shoto now that he thought of it.

Before the two could talk further a yawn broke out from both of them, earning low chuckles from the two in response.

"You know, sleep can really solve anything if you actually get some of it," Katsuki hummed, eyes closed and leaning back against the wall.

Since they were on semi-good terms, Izuku and all his exhausted glory decided to feed into the comment. "Sleep can't solve everything," He snorted, resting the side of his face on his shoulder.

"Yeah, it can," The blond shot back. "Tired after a long day? Sleep. Avoiding all your problems? Sleep away. Does life suck? Sleep eternally. Do you really hate that one snobby rich guy? Put him to sleep, if you know what I mean."

Izuku drew another exhausted snort from in between his teeth and nostrils, hooded eyes slowly closing shut as he began to nod off. "Have you always been an idiot, or are you just tired?"

"Have you always not been a pain my ass, or am I just tired?" Katsuki retorted, his voice low and weighted with fatigue from not getting any sleep finally catching up to him. "Wait— that made more sense in my head,"

By now Izuku was nearing the edge of deep slumber, but his tired mind pushed for more conversation— anything so let some of his steam off. "What . . . the fuck is wrong with you?" He chuckled hoarsely.

"I have this weird self-esteem issue where I hate myself . . . But I still think I'm better than everyone else. Now shut up, and let me . . . sleep," Katsuki explained, finally allowing the cool fingers of exhaustion to consume him whole.

"Tch," Izuku snickered, "So much for being nice, huh?"

However, his sarcastic and sleep-induced response fell on deaf ears; for Katsuki was fast asleep, and sooner more than later— Izuku was too.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

While the others ran amuck in the deserted gas station, looking like the idiots they are, Shoto stood outside where a payphone booth was positioned. Hesitantly, dialing the number Aaizwa gave him for emergencies only. And seeing as though they couldn't find a single gas station within a ten-mile radius that has oil for their car— Shoto knew he had to do what needed to be done.

Even if it meant dying in the process.

The phone rang a few times before a very groggy and deep-voiced Aizawa began to talk. "Who is it?" He demanded, rubbing his face exhaustedly.

"Hey Cap' Aizawa," Shoto greeted, dragging out each word as if delaying the inevitable.

"Why do I feel like you guys fucked shit up already?" The dark-haired heaved an annoyed groan.

"Experience?"