Chapter Text
Katsuki woke up to pain.
A deep, slicing pain that far surpasses soreness the day after a normal mission, that, to be quite frank, paints it as a scraped knee. His whole body feels like it’s been ignited by a flash fire and extinguished with chemicals. His chest, his heart, it’s all horrifically unbearable. But the point of it all still stands, no matter how much it hurts.
He’s alive. Somehow, he’s fucking alive.
Taking in a steep breath, he winces as the cold, sterile smell of oxygen tubes hits his senses. The pinch of an IV on his unbound wrist makes him clench his teeth. It’s sobering, realizing where you are. What’s attached to you. What had happened.
Immediate flashes of the war nearly make him vomit, and he swallows.
The sound of a book smacking shut startles him. Looking over to his side, he squints as his eyes still adjust to the artificial light above his head that’s far too fucking bright for someone who almost just fucking died. His mind feels like a fog.
Jesus, what the fuck.
“Katsuki…” his mother says softly—too softly for her character—as she stands from her chair. His father stands from his, already crying like a baby.
“Ma–” he tries, but his throat tightens. Coughing, he grabs his chest as all the pain from before triples.
“Hell, Katsuki, don’t speak,” she panics. Running over to his bed, she hits the call button. “You were out for days, you need a fucking second.”
He growls as his coughs settle. He feels his mother’s hand place itself on his shoulder and then his cheek. The rare affection and near-tearful expression from his mother catches him off guard. More so, the sheer warmth of her damn skin. Is he really that cold?
He never runs cold.
Even in the rain.
A nurse bursts through the door, clearly out of breath with all the huffing and puffing. Katsuki gives her one look and understands she's probably been through the damn wringer herself. Most of this country will be that way for a while, so it seems.
For an hour, doctors and nurses and his parents swarm his bed like fucking flies. They give him water slowly and check all his vitals, buzzing in his ear about ‘does this hurt’ or ‘tell me if this hurts’.
For fucks sake it all hurts.
He wonders how Izuku was ever able to handle this all the damn time without going absolutely mad–
He didn’t do it on purpose, but it still happened. Launching forward with a gasp, he scares the ever-loving shit out of everybody in his room. He almost yanks his IV out of his arm from the pure force behind it all, and his vision goes white for a second as pain shocks his system.
“What the fuck, Katsuki?!” His mother yells in her normal tone. “Have you lost your damn mind?!”
Throat still ripped to shreds but hydrated enough to speak, he opens his mouth. “Izuku…” It comes out rough. “Where’s…where’s Izuku?” The fact that it took him an hour to ask this question makes him sick.
A nurse tries to get him to lie back down, but he swats her hand away and rips his damn IV out on accident in the process. The heart monitor attached to him beeps loudly. The thumping in his chest matches its chorus, aching with the intensity.
The last time he saw Izuku was when he launched Katsuki through the sky. Hands held tight as they spun like it was their last dance before death. Not since he pushed Izuku forward in the final moments of the battle before ultimately passing out. The feeling of panic overstimulates his entire nervous system like the fire that consumed his body with pain.
Don’t let me surpass you!!
“Katsuki, please lie down,” his father tries to coax him, but Katsuki shoots him a nasty glare without thinking.
“Where is he?” he repeats, nearly predatory. “Tell me he’s fucking alive–”
His mother grabs him by the shoulders and looks at him. “Katsuki. Lie down,” she orders. The tight grip on his skin grounds him for a second. “He’s alive.”
Katsuki freezes.
“He’s alive,” she strains, keeping it short. No information on where he is, how he is, or if he’s ok besides the signs of life. He opens his mouth, but she cuts him off. “But you aren’t going to be able to see him if you send yourself into cardiac arrest.”
Scowling, he gives in, lying back down so one of the nurses can redo his IV and make sure everything else is connected properly.
God, he’s always hated hospitals. He’s always hated how constricting and stuffy they feel, trapped in a bed, unable to move. It’s like being stabbed in the gut all over again, only he knows he won’t be leaving this bed as easily to go try and find the damn self-destructive idiot.
He knows…but that doesn’t mean it isn’t going to eat him alive at every second.
The day Katsuki got to see Izuku was the day his entire world shattered.
For starters, the nerd looks like absolute hell. His mother eventually told him that Izuku needed surgery to mend his skull back into place, among other things, which horrified him to no end, even though he was the one who had undergone open-heart surgery on the battlefield.
Lying in bed next to All Might with a forced smile on his face, admitting that he was once again quirkless. That their dream they built together, of chasing each other's heels for the rest of their lives, was over.
It’s damn near hysterical how times have changed within only a couple of years. His piece of shit self would have never given Izuku so much as a look in middle school due to his own cowardice. But now? He can’t begin to explain how it’s all so different.
All he knows is that everything within him crumpled as he shed tears while his heart throbbed painfully within his bruised ribs.
Izuku tried to reassure him. That damn smile on his face tried so hard to tell him it was all going to be ok. That he was ok with losing something that meant so much to him. But he was pretty fucking shit at it.
“I still have the embers,” Izuku says softly. “And I’m fortunate I got to experience this when I did.”
Katsuki wants to slap him. He wants to grab both of his shoulders and shake him, tell him he’s sick in the head for feeling so content about such a fucked situation.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he wipes his tears and grips his hospital gown. He walks out and back to his own room, where he tells his parents he needs space.
And for the first time in a long time, Katsuki allows himself to sob–grieve–for someone who can’t seem to let it happen.
The gravity of everyone’s situation seemed to sink in the moment everyone was allowed back at the dorms.
Though they’re getting a decent break, they’re still required to attend school unless stated otherwise, as that traitor did. Which is a little obscene considering they all did just save the fucking world. But despite all the arguments by both parents and some students, they are still technically students wanting to become full-fledged heroes.
Katsuki included, even though it will take months for his arm to heal and regain its strength after being crushed.
But…
“Oh my god, what happened to your hair, Midoriya?” Some of the extras surround Izuku as they see him for the first time since it all ended, including pink cheeks.
Katsuki turns his head and puts down the heavy kettle he was holding—awkwardly—ready to pour himself some damn tea since the doctor said it helps with his muscle pain. His other hand is a bit occupied right now due to it being unusable for god knows when. At least he can move his fingers now, though it hurts to do anything beyond that.
Everyone around him doesn’t dare to ask to help him to help. They’re afraid Katsuki will bite them.
And he probably would.
Heavy bags under his eyes and trembling scarred fingers, Izuku lifts a hand and brushes it through his half-shaved hair. “Oh! Uhm, they had to shave it for my surgery. But it’ll grow back!” he puts on that smile again, waving his hands as some giggle at the goofy chop job given by the doctors.
“Damn, it better,” dunce face chirps. “It’s weird not seeing you with a full head of unbrushed fluff.”
Katsuki will admit, it does look rough. But even he has an understanding of boundaries with the nerd. Anyone with a decent amount of sensibility should know he’s probably not in the right fucking mindset for jokes about his appearance. He knows the extras mean well, but fuck. He clicks his tongue, irked, as he turns back to his tea.
“Yeah, haha,” Izuku says, letting a sigh slip.
Biting down on the inside of his cheek, hard, Katsuki too lets out a sigh as he reaches up in the cabinet above him and hooks two mugs with his thumb.
Putting them down gently, he grabs the kettle and pours out its contents. He hooks his thumb around the handles again, careful not to spill.
He doesn’t know what came over him when he decided to make two, but something in his head told him to pour the extra cup. To soothe a roughed-out situation.
Izuku had moved himself to the couch, away from everyone else talking in the hallway. He has a knee pulled up by his chest, and his eyes are nearly glazed over from dissociation. It’s only when he catches Katsuki shuffling over in his peripheral vision that he snaps back to reality.
He switches back to a smile, wobbly and tired. “Hey, Kacchan.”
Holding out the mugs, he urges Izuku to take one. Mostly because his damn fingers are hurting.
The idiot buffers for a moment before quirking his brows, confused. He reaches forward and gently takes a mug, making sure the other stays firm in Katsuki’s grip.
“Wha-”
Katsuki doesn’t let him get a word in before he turns and leaves to go back to his room. He almost joined the nerd on the couch in silence, but he argued with his head over the perspective that he probably needed his space.
That he needed a moment to not fake a smile and just breathe. He feels his chest ache, pulling him like an invisible string—urging him—to go back and indeed join Izuku. Just like all the days in the hospital that urged him to go back to his room over and over again, to even just sit and be in his presence. The same thick air. But he pushes this pull.
Neither of them is used to closeness, and now is not the time to test the water’s current.
“Hey, Bakugou!” shitty hair calls out as Katsuki passes him in the hallway. He branches from the group, trotting over to lightly pat him on his shoulder. “You doing alright?”
Katsuki grunts. “Fine,” he keeps it short, continuing his walk. He watches as the redhead glances back, nudging closer.
“Do you think Midoriya is doing ok?” he asks in a low mutter.
Katsuki tisks. He knows they’re worried, but to talk about it behind his back like this is the wrong move.
“Why?”
“I mean…” a trail off. “Dude, come on. He looks rough. Even more since he came back from talking with Spinner.”
Yeah. The nerd apparently had that whole package to deal with, too, before coming back to the dorms.
“We were in a war. No one here is fine,” Katsuki snarks.
“Yeah…but Bakugou–”
Katsuki’s grip on his mug tightens, and he stops walking, nearly tripping his friend in the process. “He won by having to end someone’s life and give up his quirk, shitty hair, he’s not going to be sunshine and rainbows out the ass.” He glares back. “Give him fucking space and stop whispering behind his back. It won’t help shit.”
Shitty hair gives him a look of shock before backing off. He doesn’t offer a response or an apology, but more of a regretful twist on his face.
Exhaling a sharp breath, Katsuki continues walking to his dorm room.
Though the tea helped with the pain, Katsuki can’t sleep for shit.
Since waking up in the hospital, sleep hasn’t been as easy as it used to be. But, to be honest, since April, when Izuku went and fucking dipped his sleep has been nothing but perfect. His quirk makes him more susceptible to anxiety flare-ups, and lord did he endure that for months.
He misses his good sleep schedule. Early nights, early mornings. Consistency.
Glancing at his clock, he lets out a loud groan as the 01:30 AM time flashes bright.
Sitting up, Katsuki rubs his sore arm. At night, he doesn’t have to think too much about moving it, but it still requires being careful not to sleep on it wrong, or it will hurt like a bitch in the morning.
Rubbing his face, he moves to peel off his sheets when an ear-piercing wail rips through the hallway.
He feels the very blood in his body go cold.
This isn’t an accidental scream while tripping, or a ‘I just saw a scary bug’ kind of screech. This is a straight horror movie scream that is long and consistent, like someone’s bones are being ripped from muscle and skin. Tendons snapping.
And the worst part? He recognizes that scream. It would be hard not to, especially since he’s heard it most during the heat of battles.
The very same ache from the hospital and from earlier yanks at Katsuki’s chest. It pulls hard and fast, enough to hurt like hell and pulsate his entire core.
Just like when he woke up from being stabbed in the gut. Just like when he woke up in the hospital after this war, he rips off his sheets and stumbles out the door. Leaving him alone be damned, that didn’t last long for a fucking second.
He better not be dead, he better not be dying. Whatever it is, he'd better be ok. For fucks sake this nerd gives him more heart problems than his own quirk.
Running as best as he can without completely throwing his arm out of whack or sending himself back into fucking cardiac arrest, Katsuki winds the corner and finds half the damn class on the boys' floor, flooding Izuku’s dorm door.
“Midoriya! Wake up!” He hears Mineta’s voice call.
“Dude, shut up, you should never try to wake someone up when they’re in that state.” Shitty hair growls.
“Oh my god, what is going on?” Ojiro covers his ears, winding from the other side of the hallway.
“What the fuck?!” Katsuki yells as he gets close enough.
Shitty hair whips around from the doorway. “Bakugou? Oh my god, bro, I don’t know what’s happening. We can’t get in, he–”
He doesn’t give the redhead the benefit of finishing his sentence. Pushing past him with his good arm, Katsuki rushes inside only to screech to a halt in the middle of the room as he realizes just why that screaming sounded so visceral.
Neck tight and tense, sparks of blue crackling from a fighting ember, chest heaving and heaving, legs and arms thrashing and clutching at any loose cloth. It's like he’s being torn apart from the inside.
My god, Izuku is having a night terror. And a really, really fucking bad one at that.
Jesus fuck, it's no wonder he looks like he was hit by a bus even after all that time healing. The fucker has been thrashing in his sleep like All For One himself has come from the dead and wrapped his fingers around his throat.
“Bakugou! Don’t touch him, we don’t know what will happen if we get too close while he’s in that state,” half and half begs with worry. Knowing the bastard, he’d be in Katsuki’s same shoes if pushed hard enough.
No. Fuck that. Fuck that.
The way the nerd is clutching and grasping, the way he’s screaming like he’s lost something—tears streaming down his face—the last thing he needs is to feel nothing but the clothes on his body and the drenched sheets now tangling around his legs.
He moves without thinking. Something that’s been happening a lot more frequently for his fucking liking.
The heat from Izuku’s quirk nearly makes him flinch as he jumps onto the bed and grabs Izuku’s biceps tightly, sucking in a breath as his bad arm screams from the action. He straddles his legs, sitting down to keep them from thrashing any harder. His head pounds as the screaming hurts his ears, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, he moves in closer. Removing his weaker hand, he brushes away the tears with shaking fingertips.
He knows waking up Izuku will probably make the episode worse, so the most he can do right now is at least make sure the asshole doesn't hurt himself.
“Izuku,” he hushes. “Izuku.” Leaning down, he touches his forehead to Izuku’s and squeezes his eyes shut. “You’re ok. You’re fucking ok, I’m here.”
The screams trickle into sobs. Broken, uneven sobs. He feels the warmth of those tears against his fingers and the shaking of his chest mere inches from Katsuki’s thumping heart.
As each ‘I’m here’ leaves Katsuki’s lips, he feels his own tears begin to slip. He feels his own throat constrict. The rare physical contact between the two of them feels like a release despite the circumstances. It feels like everything has finally fucking started to make sense since waking up in the hospital.
He doesn’t know if Izuku has woken up or not, but eventually, he feels two hands trail up and clutch around Katsuki’s back. He feels a new kind of embrace as his forehead leans closer and the blue, violent electricity calms.
“I’m here,” Katsuki now sobs, not caring that he has an audience or that Aizawa sensei eventually comes in like a bat out of hell. Not caring that this entire scene is extremely fucking intimate looking. He doesn’t fucking care.
Because now, for the first time, he actually has the fucking power to tell both himself and this stubborn prick that he’s here.
And he’s not going anywhere.
The moment any sense of reality hit Katsuki, he told everyone to get the fuck out and shut the door. If he were to be honest, he should have done that the second he climbed onto Izuku’s bed.
But the only thing on his mind at the time was getting Izuku to calm down; he didn’t exactly think about the ten pairs of eyes watching him show a rare form of affection for someone he once bullied.
Izuku has been awake for about half an hour now. It’s 2:00 AM, and they’re both exhausted, but neither of them can fall asleep.
Who would after something like that?
Katsuki was surprised at Izuku’s overall reaction to finding himself in Katsuki’s arms after snapping into reality. He didn’t flail, let out a panicked yelp, or push him off and apologize profusely while mumbling to himself. Instead, he stayed deathly quiet and allowed Katsuki to let go on his own and lie close next to him. One would say it was out of character, but he knows its really because Izuku is far too disconnected to act like himself.
“I’m sorry,” he finally whispered, breaking the overwhelming ticking silence.
Katsuki turns his head against the pillow. “For what?” he asks, matching the quiet tone despite it just being them in this room. “Having a PTSD attack or not telling me about the fact that you’ve been clearly having PTSD attacks at night?”
Izuku swallows, avoiding eye contact. He knows the nerd won’t answer out of his own stubbornness. Sighing, Katsuki brings his gaze back to the ceiling. “What was it about?”
“What?”
“What was it about?” Katsuki repeats. “If…you remember it.”
That same silence returns. Biting his lip, Izuku doesn’t respond. Instead, he turns to his side so he’s facing Katsuki. With a hesitant, shaking hand, he reaches out and places it on Katsuki’s chest right over his beating heart.
Tensing, he eventually relaxes into the touch, feeling the nerd’s rough fingers spread and stay to feel the full thump of his heartbeat.
Tears well inside Izuku’s eyes, and he blinks one free. “I’m sorry.”
This time, he understands what that apology is for. Turning on his side like Izuku, he grasps Izuku’s hand and keeps it planted against his chest. Only now, he can face the man next to him.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Katsuki reassures, squeezing. Such foreignness, but not enough to stop him.
“Kacchan, you died,” Izuku blurts, lip wibbling as another tear falls onto his pillow. “I-I was too late and you died–”
“Izuku.”
Izuku shakes his head, sniffing. “It plays over and over in my head more than Shigaraki or All For One. More than the villains I hunted down in my blind, desperate fit to keep you all safe.”
This is the most he’s spoken since getting out of the hospital, at least around Katsuki.
“They were more like stubborn nightmares,” he closes his fingers slightly under Katsuki’s grip. “I could handle the hands around my throat or losing my arms again and again and again while suffocating on my own pools of blood, but the second I see you cold on the ground with no life in your eyes I–”
He pauses for a second, choking on his own words and tears as all Katsuki can do is watch and hold his hand.
“I feel like the world around me is crumbling, and all I can do is scream.”
A quiet tick.
Another.
And then Katsuki’s body is overwhelmed by yet another pull. Letting go of Izuku’s hand, he grabs him by the neck gently and tugs him close—turning to his back—so an ear can firmly plant itself against his chest and hear the sound of a beat closely.
Hear the realness of life.
Izuku’s body is stiff for a moment. Uncomfortable. But the moment he begins to listen to the song that is Katsuki’s heart, his entire body melts with a sigh. He places his hand back on Katsuki’s chest, gripping his shirt.
Swallowing, Katsuki shuts his eyes.
“There was a moment back in April when I thought you were dead,” he admits. Blurts, really.
He was keeping that one in for a while.
Izuku’s body tenses again for a moment. A different kind of tense this time.
“No one could get in contact with you, and there hadn’t been any sightings of your dirty ass for two days.” No one has ever heard him say this, not even his mother. Not even shitty hair. But he can’t help but speak softly in this comfortable state.
Boundaries have already been long crossed.
Clearing his throat, Katsuki turns his head and plants his chin atop the half mop of curls. He can smell the faint earthy scent of sage shampoo mixed with sweat. His hand on Izuku’s neck slowly moves down, and he begins to rub Izuku’s upper back. Not just for Izuku, but also for himself. A reminder that he’s right here.
He’s right here.
“I’d wake up drenched in my biohazard sweat, damn near ready to ignite, worried that you had actually kicked the bucket in an alley because you’d broken yourself to exhaustion.”
“Kacchan…”
“Whenever you leave,” he starts again before Izuku can interrupt him. “Whenever you disappear or whenever something bad happens…I fucking flip the hell out.” He exhales deeply, stopping the movement of his hand. It sounds so damn possessive now that he says it out loud, but it's the truth. Ever since ground beta, their entire relationship has flipped on its head, both in good and bad ways. “The nurses thought I was going to send myself into cardiac arrest when I woke up after the war. I had no fucking idea if you were alive or not because my ass knocked out for days.”
He can feel Izuku swallow. If he were facing him, he’s pretty sure the face he’d be holding is nothing but shame. “I…I’m sorry, Kacchan. I’m sorry I scared you like that.” Another swallow, like he’s trying to keep himself from crying again.
Katsuki exhales through his nose.
“S’ not like I didn’t scare you any less.”
Adjusting closer and sliding his hand so it wraps around Katsuki, Izuku huffs. “We’re both…kind of a mess.”
That gets a snort out of Katsuki. “Yeah, we kind of fucking are.”
They permit themselves to be swallowed by silence again, feeling the weight of their sleepiness and abnormal show of emotions. They allow themselves to fall into this comfort that is so new to both of them, knowing it should be uncomfortable, but feeling the opposite.
They both feel a calm that they both have lacked for over a year since being thrown into the responsibility of protecting a nation at seventeen.
They have both been starved of comfort and reassurance that far beats a mother’s hug or a mentor’s inspiring chat. They’ve yearned for more within their nearly fifteen years of knowing each other. In a way…it’s almost like being kids again. Knowing no responsibilities, or even the concept of it.
Funny that just earlier today, Katsuki thought that giving him space was the answer to all his problems. Now, here they lay with Izuku’s head on his chest.
Famous fucking last words.
“Izuku,” Katsuki calls, feeling Izuku drift as his body relaxes with the full weight of his body and head.
“Yeah, Kacchan?”
“Please promise me you won’t fucking leave without a word again.”
“Kacchan…”
“Please,” he pleads. “Please fucking promise me. I know things are different now that you’re going to lose One For All, but Izuku…” he shuts his eyes again. “I’m begging you to talk to me.”
Izuku goes silent again, like he did before. Silent because he doesn’t know what to say or do. He can feel him nibble on his lip again.
“Okay.”
“Izuku, I’m fucking serious.”
“Okay, Kacchan,” he repeats, throat tight. “I promise. I promise I won’t.”
Katsuki wants to believe him. He wants to know deep within his withering soul that the man on his chest right this second will take this promise to his late grave and trust Katsuki to help him when it all gets too heavy.
He wants to hold no worry as they both begin to drift off in each other's arms, feeling real peace for the first time in months.
But he can’t help but know that, as he always does, Izuku will shut down and close the entire world and Katsuki off. He will choose fighting his own battles over burdening people.
Not because he doesn’t have full belief and care for those in his life. Fuck, it's quite the opposite. Izuku cares so much it's suffocating. He loves with every fiber of his being and every string in his heart. But because society ruined him the moment he turned four to the moment he defended this country till near death, he will always believe he is worth nothing.
Katsuki is terrified that when he loses his quirk, it will all become a battle he might not win.
And that this promise will be broken, just like the fragility of their friendship all those years ago.