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The sky is a cracked grey concrete colour marred only by smatterings of greyer storm clouds. Several feet away from the heroes, a villain lies abandoned, unconscious and forgotten in favour of the more pressing matter at hand:
“I,” Izuku manages to say, wetly, and when he breathes in a gasp, it sounds more like a rattle. Kacchan lets out a sound Izuku’s never heard before, all horrible and broken and desperate and un-Kacchan, clutching Izuku close to his chest as though that’ll keep the life from slipping out with the steady flow of blood seeping into the deep green of his costume. Izuku gurgles, turns his head to the side when he coughs so he doesn’t get blood all over Kacchan’s face. “K...Kaccha...n...”
“Don’t speak,” Kacchan hisses, clearly trying for a soothing tone. It mostly comes out devastated, like he’s not going to be the same after this is all over. He’s cradling Izuku, strong arms wrapped around his aching, boneless body. It feels nice. It’s a pity that Izuku’s not going to be here for much longer; if he’d known how good Kacchan’s arms felt, maybe he’d...
No time for regret.
Izuku brings a battered, bloody palm up to cup Kacchan’s cheek, smiling as best as he can. “Ka...Kacch’n...” he rasps. Tears leak through Kacchan’s tightly shut eyes when he shakes his head frantically like it’ll make the situation go away; as though when he opens his eyes Izuku will grin his usual blinding grin and exclaim “Gotcha!”
He doesn’t, of course. Izuku is going to die.
“Pl...ease...” Izuku finds himself gasping, his hand fluttering feather-light against Kacchan’s cheek. Kacchan sobs, and Izuku’s heart makes a valiant attempt at restarting, fluttering uselessly in his chest. Not long now. “I need...ed...t’tell you...”
Kacchan’s eyes fly open. “No,” he whispers fiercely, grabbing Izuku’s jaw and locking his gaze with Izuku’s own. “Whatever it is, you fucking tell me after, you got that? You damn well tell me when we’re in the fucking hospital or wherever but—”
Izuku pulls Kacchan down to meet him with surprising ease. Their lips touch for the first time, and for the first time in all the fifteen years Izuku has known him, Kacchan is struck utterly speechless.
Izuku’s vision swims. He chokes, lurches away to spit blood onto the concrete.
When he turns back, Kacchan looks stricken. “Deku, no,” he breathes. “Fuck, I– Izuku––”
Their faces are close, almost too close. Izuku realises belatedly that the last thing he’ll ever see is Kacchan’s face.
Good, he thinks. As if I’d have it any other way.
“I lo—“ he manages, and then Kacchan comes crashing desperately in again, smashing his lips against Izuku’s and squeezing him to his chest.
The feeling of tears rolling down Izuku’s cheeks is far from unfamiliar, but he doesn’t know who’s crying. Maybe both of them are. When Kacchan finally lets go, Izuku draws in another wet, rattling breath and fights the darkness licking at the edges of his vision. “You’re...’mazing...” he gets out, and then, even more weakly, “I love...you...K-Kacch...an...”
The darkness takes over.
Izuku feels strange, like his body is heavy and light and warm and cold all at the same time. There’s darkness all around but there’s a light growing slowly larger; the light—
Izuku first becomes aware of the beeping, rhythmic and steady. With what feels like an incredible effort, he opens his eyes.
Kacchan is lying slumped over on the foot of Izuku’s bed, his hair messy with sleep. He’s wearing civilian clothing, and he looks clean; fresh. The jacket he’s wearing might even be Izuku’s. Vaguely, Izuku registers that the beeping is a little faster.
This is probably heaven.
Izuku tries to reach a hand out to Kacchan, but there’s the familiar feeling of medical bandaging around every one of his limbs, effectively immobilising him. He opens his mouth, but his throat is parched and all that emerges is a strangled croak that barely resembles human speech. The machine picks up on Izuku’s growing distress and starts beeping faster, and Kacchan jolts upright, eyes filled—for just a split second—with panic and terror. Kacchan stares at Izuku. Izuku stares back.
Kacchan’s expression cycles rapidly from tentative relief, to joy, to outrage, and finally, anger. “You fucking bastard!” Kacchan whisper-yells. Izuku winces. “How fucking dare you do that to me, you selfish, irresponsible, reckless, stupid, infuriating, martyr complex having coward! I can’t fucking believe you! The fucking audacity to make me think you were dead, right when we’d finally—“ he breaks off, looking horribly lost, tears welling up and threatening to spill over.
“I fucking lost you,” Kacchan breathes shakily. He looks up, then, glaring at Izuku, and Izuku shivers. “You are never doing that shit again, do you fucking hear me? Never.” Izuku swallows as best he can and nods, tearing up despite most likely being dehydrated. Kacchan’s gaze softens ever so slightly, and he places his hand on the cast-bound arm closest to him, more tenderly than Izuku could ever have imagined. He hesitates for just a moment before slowly lowering his head onto Izuku’s shoulder, and a lifetime––more or less––of knowing Kacchan flags the tension in his shoulders and his neck as… tentative. Bold, brave, beautiful Kacchan is nervous.
“I fucking hate you,” Kacchan mumbles, but it almost sounds like “I love you.”
Izuku opens his dry, ripped up mouth, breathing in a valiant breath. Kacchan immediately whips his head up to fix Izuku with the most fearsome glower he’s ever seen.
“Don’t you dare say it,” Kacchan snaps, bringing up a fist that sort of hovers in front of Izuku’s chest, where he might bunch up a fistful of Izuku’s shirt to threaten him that way––if Izuku hadn’t almost died, that is. Instead, Kacchan crowds him, backing him into the uncomfortable, too-hard hospital pillow, his fist clenched around nothing between their chests. “I don’t care about your romantic ideals, Deku, don’t fuckin’ look at me like that. You already said it, you shitty bastard. You already said it, right before you made me think you––” Kacchan breaks off, wrenching himself away to face away from Izuku. The curtains are closed, and Izuku feels distantly grateful for the privacy. He makes a hoarse, distressed noise, trying to reach out to Kacchan, who turns back to him, eyes looking scarily wet. “I cannot fucking stress this enough, Deku. If you ever, and I mean ever, do that shit again, I’ll––” He stops, staring Izuku straight in the eyes, seeming to struggle for something to say.
Kill you, Izuku’s brain finishes helpfully, and he instantly tamps down the inappropriate, hysterical laughter threatening to bubble up in his chest.
The energy seems to leave Kacchan, then, in a great sigh. Kacchan sinks into the chair by the bed, scooping up Izuku’s plaster-cast hand in both of his own with heart-aching care and just holding it, reverent, solemn. “I want––” Kacchan begins, before a frustrated look takes over his face. One of Kacchan's hands detaches from Izuku’s and buries itself into blond hair. Izuku follows the movement with his eyes, wondering what it would feel like–– “I want to figure out what we have. This,” Kacchan gestures between their bodies, looking uncharacteristically unsteady, “this– whatever this is. And we can’t fucking do that, okay, we can’t do that if your stupid, reckless ass is gonna throw itself in front of every fucking villain attack that comes our way, okay? I can’t,” his voice breaks, then, and he looks away furiously from Izuku, taking a second to gather himself.
“Ka,” Izuku rasps.
“Shut up,” Kacchan whispers into the sunset, his eyes fierce and bright with fire and unshed tears. “Deku– Izuku. I’m only gonna say this once, do you hear me?”
Deku nods, before realising that Kacchan’s looking away from him. He opens his mouth––
“You will not become my weakness.”
The sentence, said so simply and firmly, knocks the breath from Izuku’s bruised lungs. Kacchan’s eyes water, though no tears spill. Izuku swallows.
“Nod if you understand,” Kacchan demands, still avoiding Izuku’s gaze. Izuku nods, and Kacchan flicks a wary glance in his direction. “If you– if you really fucking meant it, back there– you’re gonna have to start prioritising yourself on the battlefield. No lover of mine is becoming a fucking liability. I can’t win if I’m constantly having to make sure that your sorry ass isn’t going off and getting yourself killed!”
Izuku locks eyes with Kacchan, trying his damnedest to fill his gaze with his thoughts. I’m sorry, I won’t do it any more, but you’re the most important person to me and I can’t see a world without you. That seems to be the wrong thing to do.
Kacchan’s gaze hardens. “How fucking– you always, always underestimate me, Deku, you’re always saying you have to save me– and I– I will not be anyone’s weakness, you piece of shit. We– if this is gonna work out, and it better fucking work out, we’ve gotta be each other’s strengths. Fuck that bullshit the Commission spews out their asses twenty-four-fucking-seven about relationships posing a risk to heroes. We’re the best, and we’re gonna be the best at everything, got that? That includes dating, alright, and being in,” Kacchan’s voice cracks, then, and he wrenches his gaze away to glare instead at one of Izuku’s plaster-covered ankles.
The silence of the evening stretches between them, punctuated only by the beeping of the monitor attached to Izuku’s hand. It picks up every little stutter in his heartbeat, correlating embarrassingly to Izuku’s thoughts as he waits for Kacchan to finish his...confession?
“In love,” Kacchan manages finally. It feels like something slotting into place. Izuku draws in a shuddering breath, eyes filling with tears. Kacchan seems not to notice, and continues, his voice filled with a vulnerability Izuku has only heard from him a couple of times before. “There’s gonna be no fucking pity involved in this– this relationship, you got that? We’re gonna be the best goddamn heroes the world’s ever seen. And– and we’re gonna be the best to each other, too, because we’ve gone through enough, and we– we fucking deserve this, goddamnit! We’ve worked so fucking hard to get to this point, fucking–” Kacchan cuts himself off, wiping angrily at his eyes, and Izuku smiles despite himself.
God, he thinks. I really fucking love him.
“You selfish piece of shit,” Kacchan continues, still looking away from Izuku. The venom in his voice is negated by the wetness of it, the glistening tears that catch the dying sun before Kacchan’s sleeve––Izuku’s jacket––snatches it away. “This is so fucking embarrassing, this– how the fuck do you even do it all the time, all these fucking– getting so fucking emotional all the damn time–”
“Kacchan,” Izuku whispers, then winces at the way his voice sounds like someone took a chainsaw to his throat. Kacchan looks warily over at him. Izuku must look awful, because Kacchan reaches a tentative hand out to take Izuku’s cast-covered hand in his own. Izuku wishes desperately that his hand wasn’t numb. “I… I promise.”
Kacchan’s looking at him now, really looking at him, and Izuku’s breath catches in his chest at the look in Kacchan’s eyes. He looks vulnerable in a way he’s never been, not even in their first year of high school, not even at their fight in Ground Beta all those years ago.
“Yeah?” Kacchan says, finally, his voice quiet. In the quiet of the hospital, the light of the fading sunset, this moment feels monumental. Sacred.
“For you. For– for us,” Izuku breathes. Kacchan takes his hand and laces their pinkies together, avoiding eye contact. His ears are red.
“Me too.”
Izuku smiles. Kacchan looks up, then, meeting his gaze with a watery grin of his own. Izuku’s heart jumps in his chest, and the answering spike of the machine beside them makes Kacchan laugh, which in turn makes Izuku’s heart beat faster. Kacchan just laughs harder.
The sun has finally disappeared behind the horizon by the time they stop laughing, Izuku’s hand still clasped in Kacchan’s. Izuku looks over shyly at Kacchan––his childhood best friend, high school crush, rival, partner, lover?––and finds him gazing back, only fondness in his eyes.
“Win to save,” Izuku says, softly.
Kacchan regards him for a moment, then nods, his expression intent. “Save to win,” he responds.
It feels like a vow.
When they kiss, Kacchan’s lips are filled with all the warmth of the sun, his fist clenched in the fabric of the gown against Izuku’s chest. The hospital lights blink on, then, washing the backs of Izuku’s eyelids orange. Izuku opens his eyes and sucks in an awed breath at the way Kacchan is looking at him.
“Wait,” Izuku rasps suddenly, “what about visiting hours?”
Kacchan shoots him a look that’s a strange mix of equal parts mischief and his special brand of nervousness. He brings his hand up to scratch sort-of sheepishly at his head even as he smirks at Izuku.
“You’re really cute,” Izuku blurts, revelling internally at the fact that he can just say things like that now.
“Shut the fuck up,” Kacchan snaps without missing a beat, even as his smirk drops from his face. Even if Izuku didn’t know him well enough to know he didn’t mean it, Kacchan’s blushing. This does very little to contradict Izuku’s impulsive observation, and to Izuku’s delight and fascination, Kacchan’s blush is only getting darker. Kacchan opens his mouth, seeming to flounder for words. Finally, Kacchan grumbles, “I told the nurses we were engaged.”
“Wha–”
“I had to, okay? It was the only way they let me stay with you as long as I did!” At this point, Kacchan’s face is almost the same shade as his eyes. The monitor beside them starts beeping faster, which seems to gratify Kacchan enough to look back at Izuku.
“How did you know to tell them we were engaged?” Izuku asks, and watches as Kacchan scowls, looking away again and muttering something under his breath. “What?”
“I saw it in a drama,” Kacchan growls. “Shut up, idiot, stop laughing, or I’ll– I’ll fucking drown your All Might collection!”
“You wouldn’t!”
“I fucking would, you know I would, so don’t push me.”
Izuku’s throat takes that opportunity to remind him that he is parched. “Actually,” Izuku rasps, “I’d like to drink some water, myself.”
“Alright,” Kacchan says, and doesn’t move.
“Kacchan?” Izuku wheedles, batting his eyelashes at him. “I can’t move.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“How mean, Kacchan!”
“You knew what you were signing up for when you confessed to me, dipshit,” Kacchan snipes, but gets up anyway. “I should probably tell the nurses that you’re awake, though.”
“And get me water on the way back?” Izuku asks, hopefully.
Kacchan rolls his eyes. “Only if I get to share the bed with you tonight. These shitty chairs are hell on my spine.”
Izuku beams at him. “I would never say no to that, Kacchan!”
A fond smile makes its way onto Kacchan’s lips. Izuku pretends not to notice his heart rate spiking on the monitor. “I know, idiot.”
Kacchan leaves the room, flipping Izuku off good-naturedly on the way out, and Izuku starts to move his fingers. His left hand seems more mobile, and he focuses his attention on trying to raise it.
A ring would look pretty good on his fourth finger, but it’d probably have to be silicon or rubber; something that wouldn’t be a hazard in a fight. Maybe a tattoo? Izuku makes a mental note to ask Kacchan about it at some point.
Kacchan finally returns with nurses and a tiny paper cup half-filled with water, and Izuku obligingly pretends not to notice the giant bottle of water Kacchan must have stopped by the hospital’s convenience store to buy. After what feels like an eternity of Kacchan's smug smirk directed at Izuku at full force as Izuku whines about his dry throat, Kacchan reveals the two-litre bottle from behind his back, grumbling and swatting at Izuku when he blows a grateful kiss at him. Kacchan feeds Izuku chilled water with the mouth of the bottle pressed against his chapped lips, but the gentleness of it makes him feel warm throughout his body.
When the nurses finally leave the room, having made sure everything was in order, Kacchan clambers onto the bed, arranging himself carefully so as not to disturb any of the various tubes connected to Izuku’s body.
Izuku yawns, trying to turn his head to see Kacchan better, but a warm hand stops him.
“Fucking sleep, Deku,” Kacchan grumbles, but presses a kiss to his temple immediately afterwards.
“Hold my hand?”
Izuku can feel Kacchan rolling his eyes, but fingers lace through his own nonetheless. “You’re so embarrassing.”
“You love me, though,” Izuku grins. “Oh, wow.”
“What.”
“You love me,” Izuku says, hushed. “But I love you.”
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive, stupid,” Kacchan snorts.
Izuku hums, staring at the ceiling with what feels like a phenomenally embarrassing smile on his face.
“Love you, Izuku,” Kacchan says quietly, then dissolves into laughter at the way the beeping picks up in pace. “Fucking– calm down, idiot, a nurse is gonna come in if you keep that up.”
“How am I supposed to calm down?” Izuku wheezes helplessly, trying desperately to steady his breathing. “You just– you just told me you love me and now I’m supposed to calm down?”
“Fine then, explain to the nurse that your heart is beating irregularly because your fiancé told you he loves you,” Kacchan replies, and snickers at Izuku’s responding whine. “Now you know how fuckin’ embarrassing you are.”
“Hey,” Izuku grumbles half-heartedly. Kacchan squeezes his fingers, which does nothing to help him calm down. “I love you too, Mean-cchan.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go to sleep.”
And eventually, Izuku does drift to sleep, his heart full and his body healing. Tomorrow, he’ll ask about tattoos. For now, his heartbeat is a comforting metronome in the white noise of the hospital, and Kacchan’s hand is warm over his.