Work Text:
Bakugou Katsuki's heart beats a few moments more, his clouded eyes blink slowly, still.
His dying lungs wheeze as the hero struggles to breathe, fighting valiantly until the end, clinging onto the life that bleeds out of his hollow, carved-out chest.
He knew he would fail.
He knew he would die.
But most of all, he knew that he had to.
He knew that Izuku would win where he couldn't, and he died believing that, acknowledging that, and hoping that he was right.
Hoping his life bought enough time for Izuku.
Stars shine the brightest before they die, but he knows that no matter how much he burns, Izuku will blind.
He breathes his last, shuddering breaths, the lingering faith in His Deku echoing confidently in his mind. His wheezing gasps stutter, and his chest, heavy with exhaustion, feels light as his consciousness slips.
-
You can imagine his surprise when he wakes up.
He looks around blearily, mind fogged and body plagued by a persistent dull ache, resonating in his bones.
People surround his hospital bed, and he squints to make the details out past the haze of medication and the stark atmosphere.
Izuku. Kirishima. What looks to be most of the class. Aizawa. Eri.
His parents. They're crying. His mom's crying. Bakugou can't remember the last time he saw her cry.
"Kacchan?"
It's barely a whisper, but it booms in the silent room.
"..'Zuku." His voice grates his throat as it crumbles out of his mouth.
Izuku's tears flooded down his face ceaselessly.
He clutched Katsuki's good hand firmly, but carefully.
"I thought.." Izuku murmured.
"Me too."
"I'm sorry I wasn't—"
"Don't be."
It grows harder for Bakugou to focus on his surroundings, exhaustion sweeping over him.
This time he lets go, drifting away, tethered.