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Victory cannot always be sweet.
It’s not an unfamiliar scene - they were too young when they were first truly thrust into such a nightmare; the visions when they close their eyes are proof enough - but it’s still an unwelcome one. Dust forms a haze that obscures the benefits of this result, debris juts from the ground like shattered hopes. Broken gear is cast aside having provided nothing but further damage.
The sirens sound muffled, distant, even though the accompanying flashes of emergency lights suggest otherwise. There’s a faint ringing in his ears, static overlaid the voices of the rescue teams. They sound garbled, the noise is wrong, but there’s so much noise and it’s overwhelming and he can’t hear properly and maybe if everything was just quiet then he’d-
No. No, not that. That wouldn’t help. Any noise is better than no noise, right? A few minutes ago he could hear nothing. That... he’ll pretend it wasn’t as scary as it actually felt. But this is noise is an improvement. It means there’s no need for concern, he’s fine, he’ll be in perfect working order in no time. Regardless of how much the audio overload makes him just want to cover his ears and cry-
He swallows thickly. It doesn’t help, his throat is too dry. He can’t even bring himself to clench his jaw, the ache in his bones seeping even into his teeth.
Whatever. It’s fine. Pull it together.
Fuck, he’s so injured. He’s injured and he knows it. He can’t afford to acknowledge it, though. Where are the others? Where are you? Wait, where are you?
Between his dulled senses and the sheer pain pervading his every cell, even existing doesn’t feel worth it. Can this truly be called a victory? It can’t even constitute as bittersweet at this point.
It’d be nice if it rained. There’s grime on his skin and grit in his eyes; it’d be nice if that was washed away. His sight is blurry, he can’t tell if that was movement - it’s as close to an indicator of your whereabouts as he’ll get, though. Yes, rain would be nice. Cold rain to wake him up. Warm rain to smooth his aches. Rain would be nice. Tears could suffice right now, though, if only he could muster any. His eyes feel too dry, and rain can’t remedy that.
Oh. Oh. Oh, okay. That’s not a sight he was prepared for.
It seems you on the other hand have a relentless store of tears right now.
He’s clawing at the rubble now, flinging it aside as panic seeps into his veins the same way blood seeps through your clothes. He can feel your sobs, see them too, but your pleas are soundless to him. Does that make the situation worse? Maybe it’s a small mercy this cruel universe has bestowed upon him, being unable to hear but a mere muffled version of your pain, but perhaps it’s just another low blow delivered by fate.
There’s confusion on his face, fear too, upsettingly clear to you. Something is wrong with him, but there’s too much wrong with you right now to pinpoint it. He shakes his head and bashes his ear - feeble fingertips dripping with blood tug his wrist, holding him back from causing further damage to himself. He clasps your hand in his own, and he cries out for help, every emotion he holds tearing through his vocal cords. He’s so loud. God, why is he so loud? It’s not uncharacteristic, but it’s like he himself can’t hear his begging.
Ah, it’s that bad, is it?
He wouldn’t ask for help otherwise.
The pain has dulled now, but that’s not a good sign. The pain of your injuries was better, at least better than not being able to feel them at all. The pain at least reminded you that you were alive.
His name starts to fall from your lips like a prayer. Katsuki, Katsuki, Katsuki. He has to lean in oh so close to even slightly the words whispered between your shallow breaths. Katsuki, Katsuki, I’m scared, I’m scared.
The weak grip you have on his shirt is scaring him.
Katsuki, Katsuki, I love you, I’m sorry, I’m scared. You swallow thickly, eyelids growing too heavy. He’s scared, crying out, pleading for your life. The kiss you press to his lips can barely even be considered ghostly. Katsuki, Katsuki, I love you.
His tears finally flow, but there’s no such improvement for his ears. That’s not fair, that’s not fair, that’s not fair. It’s not a mercy at all, it’s nothing more than a cruel joke.
Could the universe truly not even let him hear your last words unmuffled?