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Katsuki broke his arm once as a child. He'd been playing with his friends, roughhousing as they always did, until someone pushed a little too hard, and he tumbled down a hill. It took him a while to forget the horrid sound of his own bone snapping, but he got over it; he was going to be a hero, of course, so a few broken bones was nothing.
But the doctor's office was cold and dull, and the lighting was harsh, and his tiny form had been reduced to nothing but tears and sniffles as his injured arm was treated. He walked out with his arm in a cast, and his parents had no right to deny him the three scoops of ice cream he demanded as consolation. He showed his cast off to his class, beaming with pride as everyone fought to sign their names on his arm, and then he was more or less back to playing around in just a few weeks.
He has a feeling things are different this time. The hospital room Katsuki wakes up in isn't like the one from his childhood; the fluorescent lights don't burn his retinas, most of them flipped off for the time being. In their place, a lamp somewhere soaks the room in a warm light that he very much appreciates, still crawling out slowly from his drowsy and dazed state. It's still a dull environment, and that overwhelmingly clean hospital scent is ever present, but there's something almost more comforting to be found in the space, though he's hooked up to all sorts of wires and tubes, like he's some sort of experiment. And it's still cold in the room, even though someone had the grace to throw a thin blanket over his limp frame, but there's a certain warmth emanating from somewhere. It sits on his right, wrapping itself around Katsuki's weak hand and holding it tightly- seeing it makes the entire room seem a few degrees warmer
The warmth belongs to another person, to peachy skin and freckles. Katsuki studies the pair of hands that clutch around his own, then he follows the arms that they belong to, encased in a black hoodie that's a size too large for the wearer. It takes him a second, but Katsuki recognizes the orange patterns around the sleeves, and he realizes it's actually his own hoodie- attached to it, a head of green curls hangs low, the body slumped over into a metal chair. It looks defeated, nearly dead- one would think the hoodie thief belonged in this hospital bed, rather than Katsuki.
Things come back to him quickly as he stares into the dark curls of hair; fighting, harder than he'd ever fought before; ash, rubble, and the smell of burnt everything; fighting, then the worst pain he's ever felt in his life, and then– nothing.
Katsuki feels his body shudder. He doesn't want to think about those things now, and maybe not ever again. He'd rather stare at the boy sitting on his right, play a game in his head trying to guess whether or not he's asleep.
The windows on the left wall of the room show a view of a darkened city at night, illuminated by a thousand lights from a thousand buildings. He's probably asleep- he should be asleep, at least, but he can't be, because Katsuki needs to see his face. He needs to count all the freckles that decorate his cheeks and commit the brightness of his eyes to every corner of his brain's memory and kiss his mouth until neither of them can breathe.
"'Zuku," Katsuki wheezes, bordering on desperation. If the first face he sees isn't Izuku's, he'll be pissed.
His voice is hoarse and quiet, and it barely sounds like anything. It could easily just be an uneven breath, a strange inhale done by accident- so Katsuki feels his atrophied muscles relax when the boy in question tenses.
He doesn't look up right away. His hands lose a bit of their grip on Katsuki's, and he takes in a sharp breath before his head snaps up. He looks a bit different than the last time Katsuki saw him, far more exhausted, but there's no mistaking those impossibly large and round viridian eyes.
Izuku Midoriya stares back at him, shock written on his pale face, deep purple bags pressed under his eyes, his lips trembling slightly.
"Katsuki," he gasps; he's not bedridden, but he sounds just as breathless as the actual patient. "You're- oh my god."
Katsuki grunts as he eyes the boy beside him. He takes in every detail carefully, because even though Izuku looks disheveled and exhausted and almost like a reanimated corpse, him being here might be the most beautiful thing Katsuki's ever seen.
So Katsuki smiles, somehow. "Y'look terrible, nerd."
The tears are to be expected, but they appear so fast it could give Katsuki whiplash. Izuku chokes on his own sobs, holding Katsuki's knuckle to his forehead and lips like it's the only way to keep him conscious. Katsuki wishes he could do more, but he's not sure his body could cooperate with him well enough to sit up and pull the nerd into his arms and hold him there forever, like he wants to. He watches, and does what he can to hold on tight to Izuku's hand.
"Kacchan," the greenette cries, just barely able to meet Katsuki's eyes. "I thought you were- I thought-"
"I know," Katsuki murmurs, but he really doesn't. He just doesn't want to have to hear what almost became of him.
"I thought I'd never see you again," Izuku blubbers anyway, but it's fine. Katsuki's fine to let the boy grieve as much as he needs, because at least he's here. He could be sad forever, as long as he doesn't let go of Katsuki's hand. "I didn't- I thought-"
"I know, 'Zuku. I know."
"I don't know what I'd do without you," Izuku says, and he squeezes Katsuki's hand so hard it hurts, but it's good. Of all the hurting Katsuki's body is doing right now, this one feels good.
Katsuki watches Izuku a moment longer, his chest heavy with a barrage of feelings he couldn't begin to explain. He's hurt, he's angry, he's afraid. He's barely 17 and only half alive, young and already having met death.
But he doesn't want to think about that now. Instead he thinks about the fact that, before all this shit, he'd been planning on asking Izuku out- once they all won the battle, of course, because there were much bigger fish to fry than Katsuki's damn feelings. He's pissed that almost dying in the war against the League took away his chance to have dinner with a cute guy, but he doesn't want to think about it. Not now, and probably not ever.
He tries to focus on the good things he's feeling right now- something foreign to him, but the circumstances are, admittedly, a bit unusual, and his pride isn't really a priority for him now. And anyway, there's not enough good to outweigh the bad, so Katsuki doesn't think about anything, really; he just looks at Izuku. He thinks he might want to look at Izuku forever, and then maybe even a little bit longer than that. He'll stare for as long as he can, and he'll hold his hand until his bones crumble to dust. He'll hang around Izuku until Izuku doesn't want him around, and he'll enjoy every damn second of it.
He's almost died once now, and he hated it- knowing it could all end in an instant? Like hell he'd deprive himself of what he wants for even a second longer.
"Hey, nerd. 'Zuku. Look at me." Izuku does, easily, and Katsuki checks around his sides for the bed's button controls- he tries to ignore the fact that moving his neck makes him feel exhausted beyond belief. "How do I- fuck, where's the buttons for this shit?"
"What do you need, Kacchan?" Izuku asks quietly. His voice is quiet, almost timid, like Katsuki's going to be angry at him for some reason. Katsuki doesn't know if he can ever be angry again after this.
"'Needa sit up," Katsuki grumbles.
"You shouldn't," the greenette argues softly, and he looks over his shoulder and shifts his body like he's going to leave . "You just woke up. A-actually, I should probably get a doctor-"
"No," the blonde rasps, and he uses what little strength he has to hold onto the other boy as tight as he can. "I just need a minute, Izuku. Please."
Izuku rolls his lips over each other, his eyes shifting with uncertainty. He looks at Katsuki, trails his gaze over the blonde's bed, then relaxes back into his chair. He departs one of his hands from Katsuki's and reaches under the arm rest, and slowly, the bed below Katsuki begins to rise, pushing his body up in a way that's definitely less comfortable, but not unbearable. Izuku raises it less than halfway and leaves it there, unwilling to take it any farther.
"Do you feel okay?" He asks in a small voice. "If you're in pain, I can-"
He is in pain, but he cuts Izuku off to say, "Shut up." Then, tugging on the greenette's hand, he adds, "C'mere."
As if it's a normal occurrence, the most natural thing in the world for the two, Izuku moves forward, leaning over the side of the bed. He can't get closer fast enough, and Katsuki's free hand moves to hold itself against Izuku's cheek- he's so glad his arm isn't broken this time, because the feeling of Izuku's soft skin is one of the most comforting sensations he's ever felt. Ignoring the dull pain in every inch of his body, Katsuki shifts forward as much as he can, and he kisses Izuku.
It's not perfect, and it's definitely not how he'd imagined their first kiss would be; ideally, it'd be in a much more romantic setting, probably over that dinner Katsuki had been planning to ask Izuku out to. In a perfect world, Katsuki's skin wouldn't feel clammy and cold, and Izuku wouldn't still have tears falling from his eyes, and they'd both be much better at this, but, well. Katsuki's tasted death now, and he's learned the hard way that there might not be a perfect world.
So he kisses Izuku, and Izuku kisses him, and somehow, it really is perfect, in its own way.
They part too soon, after only a few moments, but only because Katsuki's lung capacity seems to have dwindled a bit in this hospital bed. He doesn't really care, because he can keep his forehead pressed against Izuku's and feel the warmth of his face on his own.
"You're wearing my hoodie, you damn weasel," Katsuki mutters. It's pathetic, he knows, but he's not sure how to say all the things on his mind. He doesn't know if there's a word for all his feelings, and he doesn't care to find it.
Izuku laughs softly- it's the best sound Katsuki's ever heard. "Kirishima brought it over. I've been wearing it for, like, two weeks."
If there was anything that could dampen Katsuki's mood, it's that time frame. He pulls away from the other boy to take another look at the hospital room, and this time he finds the stacks of cards and flower bouquets gathered on a table in the corner.
He looks at Izuku, his stomach tightening as he does. "Two weeks?"
"It's been three, really," the nerd confesses. He wrings Katsuki's fingers between his own, playing his own little game with them, and he takes in a shaky breath. "You were- god, I don't think I've ever been that scared in my life."
"It's fine, nerd," the blonde grunts.
"No, it's-" Izuku's next breath is too sharp. His eyes squeeze shut. "You died, Kacchan. And no one knew- we couldn't- no one knew if you'd ever even wake up again." He tightens his hold slightly over Katsuki's fingertips. "I didn't know what to do."
It doesn't feel great , the image of those three weeks. Of Katsuki's body lying still in this damned bed as friends and family trickled in and out, none of them really knowing whether or not he'd even be alive in the end. He wondered how long Izuku had been sitting there, looking nearly dead. He wonders if Izuku ever would have looked alive again, had he not woken up.
"'Zuku," Katsuki says. His fingers make their way into the greenette's hair, tangling idly between soft curls. "It's-"
He hesitates.
"It's okay," he wants to say, but is it? He almost died, but that's fine, just because he didn't?
He can't lie like that. Not now, at least- it just wouldn't be fair to either of them. It's not okay, and maybe it'll never be okay.
He fixes his gaze on a point against the wall and clears his dry throat. "...We both made it out."
Izuku nods. "We did."
"D'you think you can tell me what happened without crying?"
"Definitely not," the nerd admits easily, and, yeah, his voice is already cracking.
"Okay." The blonde raises their tangled hands, and he kisses Izuku's fist. "Won't ask, then."
Not now, at least. When this moment of quiet passes, and Katsuki is inevitably swarmed by a crowd of doctors studying him like some miraculous specimen, he'll ask questions. He'll learn all the ways he died, and all the things that kept him barely holding on, and everything that happened in the three weeks he didn't exist.
For now, he's perfectly content to distract himself with Izuku. He pulls the boy in and kisses him again, then again, and then once more for good measure. He could do it forever, just because it feels nice- he always figured he didn't want to die before kissing Izuku at least 100 times.
He ends up laying back with the bed fully reclined, and Izuku plays with his hair in silence for a while. He should go to sleep, and Katsuki might force him to, soon enough, but this is fine right now. He never realized that finding themselves in silence was amazing, too, or that the feeling of someone's fingers in his hair could make him feel dizzy.
Izuku clears his throat, the softest sound to break their quiet. "I realized something, while you were… you know."
"What's that?"
He takes a shallow breath, and holds it. "I want you to be in my life forever, Katsuki. Seriously."
Katsuki blinks at Izuku a few times, partially stunned. There's a long moment where he just stares, oblivious to the heat pooling in his face and the way his jaw hangs open like a stupid fish.
He says, "Forever's a long time, Izuku."
"Yeah, well," the boy murmurs, then pauses to let the breath back out. "It still doesn't feel long enough."
Katsuki has to look away, and he chooses to look instead at the dull ceiling, because at least that doesn't make his gut feel tight and fuzzy. He knew he wanted whatever this was to last forever, but for Izuku to want it too- that's something completely different. It makes it feel real.
He squeezes Izuku's hand, because he still hasn't let go of it, even though they're both sweaty and not exactly comfortable. It's one of the nicest things he's ever felt, this gross tangle of fingers and feelings.
And who's Katsuki to deny the nerd anything? If Izuku says forever- well, Katsuki's perfectly happy with that, too.
"'Zuku," he says quietly. "When I get out of here, let's go out for dinner."
He said he'd ask as soon as they won the war, and they must have won, haven't they? Seventeen years old, and they've already won. Katsuki thinks they've more than earned a simple dinner date, and nothing in the world sounds better than that.
"Heh. Okay." Izuku leans down, and he places a kiss to Katsuki's forehead. "It'll be the first thing we do, Kacchan."
Katsuki doesn't know how long it'll be, so he makes no promises. He knows these are the last few moments of solitude the two might get for a while- there will be doctors, and tests, and plenty of recovery time, and in between it all he's sure to be visited by endless streams of family and friends; these quiet times might be few and far between, but Katsuki's fine with that.
They've got forever to figure it out, and as long as Izuku doesn't let go of his hand, they'll make it to that damn dinner.