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Pain. That’s all Katsuki could think of, pain. He could feel it blossoming from his torso, gloved hands trying to smooth over the places where his flesh felt like it was burning. They ended up slipping along instead, palms running through blood-soaked fabric. He glanced down at himself, trying to access the damage through his foggy state of mind. He could feel himself slipping, and quickly dragged a blood-soaked hand up to the nearest wall to steady himself, head spinning. If he went on like this for much longer, he was going to pass out, and he knew he needed to get help before that happened, otherwise he’d most likely bleed out on this street…
That’s right, where was he going again?
“Fuck,” he wheezed, stumbling through another step.
His feet had been carrying themselves, dragging him away from whatever battle he’d just been a part of. He’d already forgotten, but it didn’t matter anyways. The villains he fought tended to bleed into one another, faces and voices mixing and blending until it was all just one big nightmare. Until he woke up in the middle of the night, gasping for air, as if the melding of features and hands and quirks had been holding him underwater, slowly drowning him to death.
He was having trouble breathing, each inhale more shallow than the last. He knew it wasn’t a good sign, and as he shuffled through another step, he felt large globs of red liquid melt through his fingers, seeping out of his abdomen and pooling on the pavement beneath him. He stared at it for a second, eyes widening slightly as he stared at the sheer amount of himself that was now spilled all over the ground. He was losing too much blood. At this rate, he was definitely done for.
“Gonna die,” he muttered, his voice suddenly carrying his thoughts for him, his brain lacking any sort of filter in his delirious state as he slurred through his sentences, “Gonna die here ‘cause of some goddamn villain. ‘Shima was right. Shouldn’t’ve gone off on my own… Should’ve listened to him… Should’ve—”
He suddenly stumbled sideways, causing his shoulder to hit the nearest wall and sending a jolt of pain through his entire body. His blood felt like it was boiling from the inside out, his head swimming, his breaths ragged and shaky, but he couldn’t give up. Not now. He was so close. He was so close.
Close to what? he thought dizzily.
It was only when he finally turned the corner that he realized where he was—where his feet had taken him—and his immediate reaction was why . Why here, of all places? But he didn’t have time to question it, merely stumbled blindly forward, blood-soaked glove coming up to the door and leaving a smear of red across its surface, before he finally found enough strength to knock. He didn’t bother calling out, however, not that he could’ve anyways; every new breath a shallow gasp. His head was throbbing with pain and blood-loss and— fuck how long did it take to open up a fucking door?
Then, briefly, the thought that no one might be home flashed across Katsuki’s mind, and he suddenly realized that he might die on this doorstep. He grimaced. Fuck. He couldn’t do that. Not to him .
He could see his green eyes already, blown wide as he stared down at Katsuki’s slumped form in front of his door, blood all over the quaint stone path beneath his feet. He could see him dropping whatever he was holding to kneel down next to Katsuki and check for a pulse, to try and save him, to try anything. He could see the tears running down his face, the pain written all over his features as he reached out a hand to hold Katsuki’s limp body steady.
Katsuki flinched. He didn’t want to make him cry. Not again. Not over something as stupid as this.
After another long moment of waiting, he let out a staggering sigh, ready to turn away from the entryway and get as far away from the apartment while he still could. But then, by some miracle, he heard a click suddenly come from the other side as someone unlocked the door. Then the slab of wood was swinging open, and he was lifting his gaze to stare at the person who’d answered his pathetic knocking at such a late hour.
Relief immediately flooded through Katsuki at the sight of him, as if that alone would be enough to heal his wounds. His idea of safety and rescue were so deeply tied to the hero in front of him that it felt like, as long as he was there, nothing bad could happen. He could chase away any darkness, block any attack, patch any wound. He could save anyone he laid his eyes on.
And, thankfully, his eyes now rested on Katsuki.
He was just as Katsuki had pictured, green hair with a smattering of freckles on his cheeks, and at first he looked surprised to see him standing there, as if he was some kind of unexpected visitor, but just as quickly, his green eyes were tearing away from Katsuki's crimson ones, darting down toward the blood pooling out of the wound in the hero’s torso.
“Kacchan?” he breathed, panic immediately striking his features, his eyes widening as he shoved the door open further and took a tentative step forward, hands hovering over Katsuki. It took the latter a moment to realize the boy was afraid to touch him—afraid he might injure Katsuki further—and he couldn’t help but let out a breath of laughter.
As if Izuku Midoriya could ever hurt him.
“M’sorry,” he murmured before he could stop himself, his damn filter still gone with his delirium, words slipping out of his mouth like leather boots on blood-slicked stone, his breaths coming out in short puffs, “I didn’t know… where else to go.”
Then, as if he’d been holding onto his last ounce of strength just to speak those words, a wave of dizziness crashed into him, and suddenly his entire body felt as heavy as lead. The hand at his torso dropped to his side and he watched as everything tilted forward, his eyes rolling skywards as he began to fall. But before he could hit the cold, dark ground, something strong and warm caught him, gathering him up into his arms as if he weighed nothing at all. Then, he felt the gentle crest of a thumb against his cheek, and tried his best to peer up at the person in front of him.
Green, he thought absently, catching a glimpse of a fluffy curl of hair, before it suddenly turned into a forest. He swore he could hear his nickname coming from somewhere in the distance as the sun beat down on him, cicadas chattering as he made his way through the wood. He could feel a tiny hand catching him from behind, and turned to see that same head of green smiling up at him brightly, just a smattering of freckles across his cheeks.
And, Katsuki decided, if this was his resting place, he wouldn’t really mind staying forever.
____
When Izuku opened the door to see Katsuki standing on his front step, drenched in his own blood and swaying slightly in place, all rational thought immediately left him. It was as if the rest of the world faded into oblivion—and now it was just him and Katsuki and the doorway in between.
He felt the panic take him in a chokehold at the sight of the wound in his friend's abdomen, fear clawing its way violently up the back of his throat as blood poured through Katsuki’s gloved fingers. Izuku felt his eyes widen, surging forward to help, before hesitating for a split second. He was afraid of making things worse, something that always seemed to happen when he was trying to help Katsuki—but still —he had to stop the bleeding. There was just so much of it, spilling onto the ground beneath his feet, spreading across the stone in a dark, red stain. He needed a hospital, and fast.
And then he was falling.
Katsuki’s knees gave out from underneath him, his whole body slumping forward as his eyes rolled up into the back of his head. He pitched forward, about to hit the stone face first, but Izuku was faster. He darted forward, a frantic, “Kacchan!” tearing from the back of his throat, before he caught the blonde in his arms. Hot blood immediately began seeping through the front of his t-shirt, but he barely registered it as he slowly lowered Katsuki onto the hardwood floor of his apartment, heart suddenly pounding in his ears, one hand gently cradling the back of the injured hero’s neck while the other hovered over the wound at his side. He needed something to staunch the bleeding. And a phone. He needed a phone.
“Kacchan?” Izuku asked, before repeating himself more firmly with, “Kacchan,” but he got no response, Katsuki’s eyelids fluttering faintly as Izuku called his name. He pressed a gentle hand against the blonde’s cheek, slipping his thumb carefully underneath his mask before pulling it up and off of his face, and Izuku immediately felt his heart plummet into his stomach. Dark eyeliner stood out in stark contrast to Katsuki’s sickly-pale skin, his brow furrowed slightly in pain. Sweat had started to bead across his forehead, soft tufts of blonde hair sticking to it as he continued to let out short pants of air. Izuku suddenly felt his mind kick into overdrive, his medical training seeming to rush back to him all at once.
Hemostasis is the goal of treatment of all bleeding wounds. No matter the wound type or etiology, hemostasis is the initial step in providing care. In the most severe example, arterial bleeding should initially be treated by placing direct pressure over the site of the wound.
“I’m gonna stop the bleeding, alright?” he told Katsuki, his voice shaking as he maneuvered the hero so his back was leaning against the still-open door. He was about to leap to his feet, but he felt a hand grab for him at the last second, and quickly turned back to see that his oldest friend had reached for him, burying a hand into the fabric of his shirt.
“Don’t…” was all he murmured, his voice rough and low, but Izuku still felt something twist painfully inside his chest, threatening to snap as he realized that the hero had been able to sense his presence leaving his side, even though his eyes were still closed.
The last thing he wanted was for Katsuki to think he was abandoning him, so he rambled on reassuringly, “I’m not going anywhere, I promise. Just give me a second, okay? One second.”
And those words must’ve been enough, because suddenly Katsuki was letting him go, and Izuku was springing to his feet, green sparks flying around his heels as he raced toward the kitchen and flung open a cabinet to grab the first aid kit before also making a grab for a clean towel. On his way back, he snatched his phone from where it had been sitting on the countertop, immediately tapping a finger against the screen before hitting Emergency. ‘119’ was immediately dialed, and he pressed the phone to his ear just as he knelt back down next to Katsuki. He must’ve only been gone for a second or two, but the puddle of blood on his hardwood floor had already grown a considerable amount.
Any other type of cloth may be used in this emergency situation if no sterile dressings are available to assist in the application of direct pressure. If this technique is sufficient to control the bleeding, the wound should be covered with sterile gauze dressing and a bandage which will continue to apply pressure to the wound.
“Damnit,” he hissed, tucking the phone into his shoulder as he used both his hands to grab the towel, hovering over the wound only briefly before whispering, “Sorry about this, Kacchan” and pressing down on the wound with considerable pressure.
Immediately, Katsuki’s eyes were blown wide open, the pain pulling him back to consciousness as a scream scraped against the back of his throat. Izuku shuddered at the cry, tears beginning to burn threateningly behind his eyes (something about the sound all too familiar) before he felt Katsuki’s hand instinctively come up to where he was pressing into his side and heard him let out a strangled whine of pain.
“I know, I know,” Izuku soothed gently, although his hands were shaking slightly, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
But at the sound of his voice, Katsuki’s body relaxed a little, his gloved hand coming to rest gingerly on top of Izuku’s now-blood-stained fingers. Then, slowly, his eyes fluttered open, crimson irises settling on the face across from him before he managed a breathless, “Deku?”
Izuku felt his heart miss a beat, not used to hearing his nickname used so softly. It threw him off for a split second, everything around them suddenly forgotten as he stared back at the blonde. But just as quickly, a voice was suddenly coming through the phone that was tucked against his green curls, and he felt himself snap back to the situation at hand.
“119, what’s your emergency?”
“U-Uh, yes. This is the hero Deku,” he said, pulling his eyes back to Katsuki’s injuries as he answered. The reply came naturally to his lips even though he wasn’t on duty at the moment, the words ingrained in him from his years spent doing hero work. His mind shifted focus as he began relaying the situation to the operator, sentences clear and concise as he explained, “I’m here with the hero Dynamight. He’s severely injured, several lacerations to the torso and a puncture wound to the left abdomen. Possible collapsed lung—”
“D’finitely ‘lapsed.”
Izuku jerked his head up at the quiet words, tearing his eyes away from the wounds to look at Katsuki once more. The latter was now leaning his head back against the surface of the door, his expression forming a tight grimace, chest heaving slightly as he continued to rasp for air. His speech was rough and disjointed, and if Izuku was any further away from him, he wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to hear what Katsuki had said at all. He’d never heard him so quiet before, and something about it was starting to send him into the beginnings of a panic.
“He’s not breathing very well,” he finally concluded to the operator, before rattling off his address and emphasizing, “We need an ambulance, quickly .”
“Understood, Deku. Paramedics are on their way,” the operator replied calmly. “Is Dynamight conscious?”
Izuku shot another quick glance up at Katsuki, who mustered a bitter glare back at him, crimson eyes piercing through him as if to say, You better fucking say ‘yes’, before Izuku felt a relieved smile dance across his lips for a moment. That was the Kacchan he knew. He relayed, “Yes, but he—” he hesitated, the words suddenly got caught up in his throat as he silently replayed Katsuki’s fall in his head, before gritting his teeth and finishing, “—he’s already passed out once. He’s losing a lot of blood.”
“Alright, I need you to keep him awake for me until the paramedics get there, and keep pressure on the wound. I’ll stay on the line just in case. They’ve been dispatched to your location.”
“Thank you,” Izuku said firmly, before discarding the device on the hardwood floor beside him. The call was still running, but he was no longer focused on the operator on the other end of the line. Instead, all his attention shifted to Katsuki and what he could do to help him right now. The next few minutes would be the most crucial, and his only job now was to keep his friend awake and alive.
The trouble was, if Katsuki really had collapsed a lung, they were already running out of time; and whatever kind of handle the blonde was trying to get on his breathing clearly wasn’t helping. His breaths were starting to become more and more shallow by the second, and it physically hurt to listen to the boy wheeze, but Izuku’s vision was so filled with red that it was hard to be concerned about his breathing over his blood loss. Either one could be fatal, and Izuku knew he should’ve been trying to balance both situations equally, but he only had two hands, and right now they were the only thing holding Katsuki’s blood inside of his body.
Should the wound resume bleeding, additional direct pressure to the wound with the application of additional dressings and bandages should commence to decrease the loss of blood from the site of the wound.
“Damnit,” Izuku breathed again. Katsuki’s blood was starting to make his hands slick and slippery. He should’ve grabbed another towel, since the one he was holding was already beginning to soak through. He could practically feel the blonde’s heartbeat in the way his blood flowed underneath his fingertips, could hear each breath coming just a millisecond shorter than the last. Musutafu General Hospital was about eight minutes away from his apartment, which meant he had to make sure Katsuki held out for that long, at least. Still, from the looks of it, he’d already been bleeding out for a while now, and Izuku wasn’t sure how much longer he could go on without completely passing—
“Oi,” he heard Katsuki croak, “Quit it… Shit’y Nerd.”
Crap. He’d been muttering to himself again.
“Sorry,” he whispered apologetically, but when he didn’t get some feisty comeback, he found himself looking back up through his bangs and asking, “You still with me, Kacchan?”
“Fuck’u,” he heard the blonde grunt, “Was sleepin’ so nicely… Y’woke me.”
Izuku let out a soft huff of laughter, and he could feel something cold and wet suddenly bite at the corners of his eyes as he stared at his hands, now wrist deep in his Katsuki’s blood. There was far too much of it, and it suddenly struck him that he was losing him. He was losing. “Sorry about that,” he picked up, wanting to talk to Katsuki, wanting to hear the comforting sound of his voice. He was seriously freaking out, and he needed that much, almost as much as the other needed him, “Were you having a nice dream?”
Katsuki opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly his entire body shuddered, and he began to cough. It sounded like it physically hurt—a painful, wheezing, wet noise—and Izuku let out a soft swear as the shift in pressure caused more blood to seep through his fingers. He glanced up just in time to see Katsuki pulling a gloved hand away from his mouth, fresh blood spatters spread across its surface, red liquid staining his lips a dark crimson. Definitely a collapsed lung then, internal bleeding— how long had he been going on like this?
“I’m sorry, don’t talk,” Izuku said quickly, silently scolding himself for pushing the subject—for being selfish—digging his palms deeper into Katsuki’s side as the bleeding slowed again, “Just focus on breathing, alright?”
Katsuki’s eyebrows furrowed together as he stared down at the blood in his palm, and Izuku watched as he grit his teeth, an angry expression flashing over his face as he bit out, “Damnit,” in a rough voice. His fingers were twitching now, and he slowly let his hand fall to his side before tilting his head back toward the ceiling and taking in a shallow breath. Izuku didn’t take his eyes off him, wanting to make sure he stayed conscious for as long as possible, but Katsuki’s gaze was already glazing over, his stare boring unsteadily into the ceiling above them, eyelids growing heavy.
“Hey,” Izuku said firmly, nudging one of his knees gently against Katsuki’s leg, “no falling asleep on me, alright?”
Katsuki’s eyes flickered toward him for a moment before he offered up a somewhat irritated grunt, as if to say, Yeah, no shit dumbass, and Izuku let out a small breath of relief. At least his biting attitude was still intact.
He was almost positive this was the result of a villain attack. He wondered if the enemy had gotten away, but from the looks of the situation at hand, it must’ve been Katsuki who’d been lucky enough to escape. Izuku knew Katsuki wasn’t one to run away from a fight, but he wasn’t an idiot either. If he knew he could come back and win the second time around, he would. He would put it on himself to prove that he could do it, and he probably wouldn’t ask for help. But that still didn’t explain why he’d been patrolling all by himself so late at night. And why the hell had he come here?
I didn’t know… where else to go.
Izuku’s hands tightened around the towel he was holding. Now wasn’t the time to think about this. He had to focus on the situation at hand. The bleeding had slowed enough now that he could finally start patching it up with gauze, but he was worried the process might cause Katsuki to lose consciousness again. Nevertheless, he kept one hand applying pressure while the other flipped open the locks of the first-aid kit and he began rooting through gauze and bandages. He pulled out one that would at least be enough to cover the puncture wound, hoping the gauze wrap would take care of most of the lacerations for him. Izuku put the packaging in his teeth and tore it open before removing the towel from Katsuki’s side and replacing it with the clean bandage. Then, as he began to wrap gauze around the hero’s torso, he heard Katsuki let out a hiss, and glanced up from his working hands to see the blonde gritting his teeth, trying his best not to writhe with pain, one of his legs jerking involuntarily toward his chest. Then he let his head drop backwards, a small thump coming from where it fell against the door, before dragging his pained gaze back up to the ceiling—and for a second Izuku wondered if it was because he didn’t want to look at his injuries, or because he didn’t want to look at Izuku.
“I know, I know. I’m almost done,” Izuku reassured apologetically, pulling the dressings taught. It wasn’t much, but hopefully it would hold him over until the paramedics showed up.
Katsuki’s jaw flexed in silent agony, and Izuku heard him breathe in a constricted inhale before the blonde wheezed out, “It was… a nice… dream…”
His eyes quickly snapped back to Katsuki’s crimson ones, the hero’s gaze suddenly seeming very, very far away—too far away for Izuku’s liking. He’d lost so much blood, and his breathing was becoming more and more labored. Even with the bandages, Izuku knew it would only do so much. Katsuki still needed a transfusion. He still needed a hospital. He was running out of time. The ambulance was still four minutes away, and that wasn’t counting the eight minutes it would take to get back to the hospital, which meant…
Which meant Izuku could get there faster.
With One For All, he could get to the hospital in just under three minutes. Up to this point, he’d been following medical procedures, like heroes were trained to do. There were significant risks involved with moving someone around who was severely injured, and it was often better to leave it up to the medical professionals during disastrous situations. Heroes were shaped to protect and serve and save, but not always to deal with physical injuries (unless you were a hero whose quirk doubled as a way to heal others, like Recovery Girl was). Still, Izuku couldn’t just sit here and wait. He had to do something.
And before he could stop himself, his body was moving on its own, gently pulling Katsuki into his arms and rising to his feet.
“De…ku…?” he heard Katsuki wheeze.
Green sparks started around his heels. He’d fly there, if he had to. He’d do just about anything to save him.
“Change of plans,” he said softly. “I’m taking you to the hospital myself. Just hang in there, Kacchan.”
And just like that, he dug his heels into the blood-stained floor, and shot out the open door.
____
Katsuki wasn’t used to being held, but he had to admit, it felt kind of nice. He could feel the wind in his hair as Izuku sprinted over rooftops, the cool night breeze sending a chill through his body, but as soon as he so much as shivered, Izuku’s warm arms were tightening around him, tucking him closer into his chest. Katsuki never would of let this happen under normal circumstances, but he was just to fucking tired to fight it. He’d have to swallow his pride another time. Right now, he just wanted to fall back asleep, back into woods and sun and eternal summer. He could still smell the forest, as if he was still there, the sweet scent of apricots and sea water tingeing grassy air.
"Stay awake for me, Kacchan. We're almost there."
He cracked his eyes open, catching a glimpse of green sparks as he tried his best to look at Izuku. Lightning danced around him, lighting up his freckled cheeks, his eyes glowing with determination. That was when Katsuki realized that the smell was coming from him, citrusy and salty and familiar. He tried to hold on to that feeling as best he could, but he could feel himself slipping away again, his eyes drooping, his breaths slow and shallow. It’d be so easy to fall asleep right now, wrapped inside safety incarnate, but before he could, he heard a voice trying to stop him, trying to catch him as he fell.
“I’m right here, Kacchan. I’m not going anywhere, so—” Izuku’s sentences were shaking, and if Katsuki was in a better frame of mind, he might’ve realized the boy carrying him was on the edge of tears, “So don’t go anywhere, okay? You can’t…” his voice wavered a little, before finally gritting out the last words, “...leave me behind.”
Katsuki didn’t bother opening his eyes this time. He wasn’t sure he could. Instead, he used the last bits of his strength to give a tired reply, forcing his lips to move as he mumbled, “Leave…?” The thought seemed impossible. Irrational even. They’d known each other for so long. They’d been through so much. Did Izuku honestly still think he’d leave him behind? His breaths were just small, ragged wheezes now, and he let out a shuddering exhale as he promised, “I wouldn’t…”
“ Shh , I know,” he heard Izuku whisper soothingly, and Katsuki felt something warm and wet splash against his cheek. He could hear it now, the tears in Izuku’s voice as it broke over itself, “I know you wouldn’t, Kacchan. I just need you to stay with me, alright?”
“‘Zuku…” Katsuki murmured wearily, wanting to offer comfort, or quite possibly an apology. He hadn’t meant to make him cry, but somehow it always came back to this. Katsuki would never get it right. He messed up so many times in the past, and this wasn’t much different. Why did he keep needing to lean on Izuku for everything? Why couldn’t he do this alone?
But before he could figure it out, his voice was trailing off and sleep began to pull at him, pouring over his consciousness like black ink. He heard someone calling his name again, frantically this time, desperately begging for him to stay awake, but he'd lost the strength to claw his way back to the surface, and before he even knew it was happening, Katsuki was swept away into the darkness.
____
Izuku had heard Katsuki breathe his name, but as it trailed off into silence, he suddenly felt his childhood friend go limp in the circle of his arms, his gloved hand slipping off where it had been resting on his abdomen. Izuku immediately went rigid, tearing his gaze away from the cement rooftop laid out before him to stare at Katsuki, feeling his world slowly collapsing in on itself as he took in the hero’s condition. Katsuki’s head had lolled to one side, crimson blood dripping from his lips, eyes closed and expression blank. His chest had also stopped its staggered rise and fall, air escaping him one last time.
And Izuku felt dread crash into him like a brick to the face.
The sudden silence was suffocating, like hands closing around the back of his neck, and Izuku’s chest immediately flooded with panic, tears stinging his eyes as he shouted, “Kacchan!” He was still sprinting over rooftops, only a few buildings away now. He felt himself speed up a little, heels kicking at stone as he pushed himself along, beads of sweat gathering on his forehead. “Kacchan!” he snapped again, harsher this time, his voice coming out as somewhat of a growl, “Come on, wake up. You can’t do this to me. Not again.” But as he glanced back down at Katsuki’s closed eyes, he felt something inside him crack, his heart shattering on the same space of pavement where he landed, just in front of the bright red EMERGENCY sign of Musutafu General. He felt himself pull the other boy closer, tucking the blonde’s head into the crook of his neck as tears dripped down his freckled cheeks, gritting his teeth as he pushed through the glass doors and muttered, “Come on, Kacchan. Not yet.”
Immediately, nurses spotted them and raced forward, taking Katsuki from Izuku’s arms and laying him down on a bed. Izuku didn’t really want to let him go, remembering the way the other hero had murmured, ‘ Don’t…’, when he’d turned away from him at his apartment. It felt like someone was stripping him of his heart—his other half—and he didn’t know what else to do but stand there and watch as they carted Katsuki away.
It was only when he was out of sight that Izuku found himself sliding into a nearby chair, patiently waiting for someone to tell him whether or not his world had just come to an end.
____
Green. That was what Katsuki woke up to, green. Foliage crested over his head, sunlight raining down around him through the boughs. A cool, summer breeze rustled the branches, sweeping through his golden hair and settling deep into his lungs. Grass tickled the back of his neck, and he could feel damp soil on his fingertips, cool and grounding, tethering him there. It was so peaceful, and he dug his fingers deeper into the ground before slowly pushing himself up, glancing around carefully as he did.
He was settled in a small clearing, wood stretching out on either side of him, the crisp scent of wildflowers staining the air. He recognized this place, as if he'd been here a million times before—as if he was always bound to return—but he couldn’t help but feel like something was missing.
He turned to look behind him, and no one was there.
Katsuki frowned and stood, dusting himself off carefully. The bed of flowers he laid upon might’ve been peaceful and inviting, but he couldn’t rest. Not yet. Not until he found him.
"Deku?!" he called, turning in a slow circle, searching the wood for the fluffy head of green hair. " Deku! Oi, Nerd!"
He waited patiently for a reply, but when nothing came, he felt the air around him suddenly shift. He glanced up to see the sky beginning to darken, the wind around him picking up slowly. A storm was brewing, the scent of rain starting in the air, and he immediately felt a flicker of fear pass through him. It would be bad if they got caught out here in the lightning. And where the hell was Deku? He couldn’t leave him out here all by himself. What if he was lost?
"Deku!" he called again, his voice a little more desperate this time as he picked a direction and started that way, jogging lightly, hoping he'd run into the boy, praying that he could hear him as he shouted, "DEKU!"
But his voice was ripped away by the growing torrent of wind, and this time when he glanced around, he didn't recognize where he was anymore. Was he lost? No, that was impossible. He knew every inch of this forest. He knew it like the back of his hand.
“DEKU!” he shouted, louder this time, his lungs aching with urgency. His body suddenly prickled with pain. Was he hurt? Why did he suddenly feel like he couldn’t breathe? “IZUKU!” he tried again, his legs weak, his head aching, “WHERE ARE YOU?!”
But if the boy had ever been by his side, Katsuki could no longer feel him. There were no more soothing words to hear or gentle hands running through his hair. There were no more glimpses of dark curls or dashes of freckles or budding-green eyes to comfort him. Instead, everything was just dark, and damp, and cold, and as Katsuki’s knees hit the forest floor, he let out one last scream for his friend, wondering if—this time—he’d truly left him behind.
____
Izuku had been in a lot of hospitals over the years, so much so that it had almost become a comforting place for him. There was something about the clean hallways and the simple furniture and the disinfectant in the air that would always be familiar. He recognized the shuffle of nurses in the hallways, going from one room to the next, and the gentle sound of voices carrying down the corridors; the cries of someone worrying over a child, in one room, and laughter as someone woke up in the next. There was so much despair here, but there was also hope. And hope was something Izuku had always clung on to. He’d had to, in order to keep going. In order to believe that someone like himself could become someone who could help save people.
And right now, he was clinging on to it for dear life.
He was staring at the white tile beneath his feet, fists clenched tightly in his lap. His mind felt numb, and a part of him knew he was in shock, but he just didn’t know what to do about it. Time passed around him slowly, minutes dragging into hours as he just kept waiting for someone to tell him whether or not Katsuki was okay; his last breath repeating over and over in Izuku’s head.
‘Zuku…
“—zuku. Izuku. ”
He raised his head slightly at the sound of his name, eyes widening as they landed on a pair of familiar maroon high-tops before quickly pulling his eyes up to look at the face that accompanied them. Kirishima stood before him, looking as tired as Izuku had ever seen him. There were dark circles under his eyes, as if he’d just woken up, and his hair wasn’t even brushed. He was still in his pajamas, dark sweats and a loose orange t-shirt, and had a bag slung over one shoulder. But as soon as Izuku met his gaze, his face was folding into a sympathetic smile.
“Hey,” he greeted softly.
“Kirishima,” Izuku replied, a little surprised to see the other hero standing before him. “What… What are you doing here?”
Kirishima forced his smile to widen a little, jamming a thumb into his chest as he said, “I’m Baku-bro’s emergency contact while he’s on duty, so I got a notification from the Hero Network as soon as he was checked in,” taking a moment to fish his cell phone out of his pocket and holding it up to show Izuku the message. “He always says his parents will freak out if they knew how much trouble he got himself into on hero duty—and when they freak out, he freaks out—so he’s got my name on there instead. Plus, I’ve got a spare key to his apartment, so I can drop in and pick stuff up if he ever needs something right away.”
Izuku blinked his bleary eyes at the phone before leaning back in his chair, and whispered, “I see…”
Kirishima lowered his phone a little, his smile fading as his red eyes scanned over Izuku’s form. “I'm guessing he got himself into a little more trouble than usual, though…” he murmured softly.
Izuku stared at him for a moment, not really understanding what he meant, before finally glancing down at himself. He winced when he noticed his clothes, soaked all the way through in Katsuki’s blood, dried bits of red crusted around his fingers. He hadn’t realized how covered in it he was this very moment, how sticky his skin had become, and suddenly he felt sick to his stomach. Panic flashed through him again, and he tried not to shy away from the very fabric that was draped around him, the texture suddenly feeling uncomfortably hot to the touch.
“Hey, it’s okay, Midoriya,” Kirishima said quickly, sensing his discomfort and stepping forward to unsling the backpack from around his shoulders. Izuku watched as he dug inside and pulled out a change of clothes; a white skull sitting on top of the fabric, plastered against the front of a black t-shirt. “They’re Katsuki’s,” he said quickly, “but, from what I hear, he probably won’t be out of here for a few more days, so just take them for now.” Izuku stared at the offering blankly for a moment, unable to think clearly, but his silence only caused Kirishima to add, “I can always go back to his apartment and get another set of clothes, so don't worry about it.”
He blinked slowly, hesitating as he opened his mouth to reply, and once he finally found the words, his voice came out rough and jagged, as if he’d eaten glass. “But… they’re his,” he managed, the syllables tearing up the back of his throat.
“He wouldn’t mind. Trust me,” Kirishima said dismissively, holding the clothes out further, “Just… please, take them. I… I can’t stand to see you like this.”
It was then that it struck Izuku that the redhead was maintaining meticulous eye contact with him, so that he wouldn’t have to look down at the stains of his best friend’s blood that stretched across Izuku’s clothes. He flinched at the realization, wondering what Kirishima must be feeling right now seeing him this way, before finally reaching up to gingerly take the clothes in his hands.
“Thanks,” he whispered finally, slowly pulling himself to his feet so he could change in the bathroom.
He was halfway there when he heard Kirishima call out to him, “Hey, Midoriya?” and turned back on his heel to see his old classmate giving him a gentle smile, watching as he shot him a thumbs up. “Thank you.”
____
Thank you.
For what? Izuku wondered as he stripped off his blood-stained clothes, stuffing them into a plastic bag one of the nurses had offered him before changing into the fresh ones that Kirishima had given him. I didn’t do anything but stall for time. He didn’t want to notice the way the clothes still smelled faintly like Katsuki, the scent of caramel and spice lingering there even after a wash, but it was impossible not to as he gently tugged the t-shirt over his head. It was just enough to torture him, every breath a comfort, as well as a terrible reminder of what had just happened. He felt himself clinging to the collar, as if he was holding Katsuki in his arms again, not wanting to let any more of him slip through his fingers.
It was only when he’d gotten fully dressed that he finally let go, unlocking the stall door and watching it swing open to reveal his reflection in the length of mirrors across the tiled room. He stared at himself in the glass, barely recognizing the person gazing back at him. He looked completely wrecked, his eyes hollow and dark, his skin pale underneath the blinding white lights. His expression was void of any emotion, that is until his gaze settled on the clothes he was wearing. As soon as his eyes lingered on the skull logo at the center of his chest, he immediately felt tears bite at the corners of his eyes and quickly looked away. His fist tightened around the plastic bag in his hand, nails biting into his palm as he tried to force himself to stop crying. He couldn’t fall apart. Not yet.
He pushed himself forward instead, walking over to the nearest sink and turning on the water. He lowered his bag of clothes to the floor before running his blood-stained hands underneath the warm liquid, watching as specks of red dust flaked off and washed down the drain. He squeezed some soap from the dispenser after he realized the water alone wouldn’t be enough to wash it all away, and he began to scrub at his discolored skin, dragging his blood-encrusted fingernails along his open palms. The only problem was, it wasn’t coming off.
“Damnit, ” Izuku swore softly, the frustration in his movements building as he scrubbed harder and harder, his skin reddening with irritation as he desperately tried to get Katsuki’s blood off his hands. He angrily cranked the heat of the water up until it was steaming, practically to the point of burning his skin. It stung, but he barely felt it, his vision blurring as cool liquid began to pour down his cheeks. It wasn’t coming off. Why wasn’t it coming off?
Then, out of the corner of his vision, he watched as a hand reached out and slowly cranked the knob of the sink until it was off, the sound of running water dying as the last streams of liquid washed down the drain. Izuku stared down at his twitching fingers for a moment, steam rising off of his pinkened skin and water dripping off his palms as he realized the violence he’d just put his hands through. His knuckles felt raw and his joints ached, and he was almost sure if he hadn't been stopped, he would’ve eventually split his own skin. Thankfully, someone had intervened before he could reach that point, and when he turned to see who it was, he was met with an all too familiar silhouette; mismatched eyes, and a curious stare. Izuku felt an instant wave of relief crash into him at his appearance, eyes tearing up once more as he murmured, “Todoroki.”
“Midoriya,” the boy replied steadily, before holding up his phone, “Kirishima called me. He said you might need—”
But Izuku was already crashing face-first into his shoulder, allowing himself to sag against the half-hot, half-cold hero, gently wrapping his arms around the other boy’s waist, his bag of bloody clothes suddenly forgotten. Todoroki only hesitated a moment before returning the gesture, pulling Izuku into a comforting embrace.
“I’m sure Bakugou will be alright,” Todoroki murmured without prompting, “He’s the strongest person we know,” and Izuku once again marveled at how his best friend always managed to know exactly what to say.
“I know,” he replied softly, burying his face further into Todo’s shoulder, the soft fabric of his jacket brushing his tears away for him, “but I’m afraid he might not bounce back so easily this time.”
Or at all, he thought silently.
Todoroki seemed to hear it, however, because suddenly he was gathering Izuku closer to him and saying, “Then we’ll stay here until he does. Just… don’t worry so much, Midoriya. You did everything right.”
Izuku felt his breath hitch at those words, a soft cry escaping his lips, because he’d needed someone to say that to him. He needed to hear that he did everything he could possibly do to save Katsuki. Because—somehow—it still felt like he hadn’t done enough. Like he’d abandoned him in his final hour. Was that possible? Would his absence be what ultimately killed his oldest friend?
Don’t…
Don’t leave me.
That’s what he’d been trying to say. Don’t leave me.
And whatever it was that had been twisting so painfully inside Izuku’s chest, finally snapped.
____
He was bursting into Katsuki’s recovery room before any nurses could bother to stop him, tearing through the door as if the building was on fire. Immediately, a doctor holding up a clipboard at the end of Katsuki’s bed jerked her head toward him and said, “Sir, you shouldn’t be in here—” but Izuku paid her no attention as he darted to Katsuki’s side. He’d been stripped of all his hero gear, resigned to nothing more than a hospital gown, and it made him look so much smaller than before, so much more fragile. His hair was disheveled, smears of eyeliner brushing against his temples, and he was covered in a plethora of thick hospital blankets. An oxygen mask rested over his face, and an IV ran from his arm to a transfusion, color finally returning to his cheeks. But as Izuku glanced down at Katsuki’s closed eyes—his expression somehow so still and yet so peaceful—he felt the last bit of his restraint finally leave him, tears suddenly breaking over his waterline as he stifled a sob. He pressed a hand into his mouth, trying to keep himself together, but it was impossible. This was impossible.
It was one thing to wake up in a hospital bed next to Katsuki, to look over and see the blonde glaring at him with an expression that radiated, Good thing you woke up, or else I was gonna kill you. But to see him lying there, to have watched him bleed out all over Izuku’s apartment floor, to have heard the last whispers of his breath; it was almost too much for Izuku to handle.
At least, by himself.
“Gosh, of course he looks like shit,” someone muttered, and Izuku turned to see Kirishima stepping up on the other side of the bed to run a few fingers through Katsuki’s hair, fixing it gently before licking one of his thumbs and gently scrubbing away at his best friend’s smudged eyeliner.
“Excuse me,” the doctor’s petulant voice came from behind them, “You three can’t be in here.”
Izuku turned to see that Todoroki was standing behind him, close enough for comfort, hand hovering protectively nearby. His expression hadn’t changed, but as he turned his gaze on the doctor who was scolding them, a flicker of anger passed over his face.
“Are you going to kick us out?” he asked, voice suddenly thick with bitterness, “Because if you want us to leave, you better have some great security.”
It wasn’t lost on the doctor who they were, three of the strongest heroes in Japan hovering over their comrade, lying helplessly in a hospital bed. She doubted any security would be able to take them on, and although they were clearly abusing their power, not to mention one of them had just dished out a threat, she merely let out a weary sigh and said, “Just, be gentle. And try not to swarm him,” before tucking her clipboard under her arm and heading out of the room, Todoroki’s glare following her the whole way.
“Geez man,” Kirishima muttered as the door shut behind her, smirking slightly as Todoroki turned back toward them, “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
“Thanks for that,” Izuku murmured softly, reaching up to brush away the stray tears on his cheeks, to which Todoroki offered a careless shrug and replied, “It’s nothing.”
Then, Izuku was pulling out the spare seat next to their unconscious friend and sliding into it. Katsuki looked a little more put together now, thanks to Kirishima, and when Izuku finally noticed the way his breaths came easy and steady, chest once more rising and falling, relief suddenly poured down on him. He felt his tears well up again, worry and stress and grief dissipating with each passing moment, and before he could get a handle on his emotions, he completely broke down, sobs racking his body. He bent his head forward, his crooked fingers coming up to wrap around Katsuki’s hand as he pressed his forehead gently against the blonde's knuckles. All at once, he felt whole again, the world set straight from the messy, doubting uncertainty he’d been feeling. This was where he belonged—right here, by Katsuki’s side—and he would fight for every extra second he could with him. He would blast through any wall, face off against any villain, break every bone in his body; just as long as he got to stay here. He’d do anything.
And the reassurance Katsuki had been looking for finally came to his lips, renewing a promise he thought he’d made clear long ago.
“I won’t leave you behind,” he cried weakly, hands tightening around the other boy’s cold bones, “I swear.”
____
And just like that, flowers began to bloom.
Katsuki stared at the forest floor where he knelt, tears dripping off his chin, but as they landed on the dark soil beneath him, he watched as green sprouts began to break through the surface. They slowly grew, wildflowers blooming around him, their sweet smell staining the bitter air. He stood up, not wanting to crush the petals as they swept across the forest clearing, each one radiating warmth and comfort. The wind around him suddenly grew warm again, the storm that had been brewing dissipating with each beam of sunlight that broke through the clouds. He heard the cicadas begin to chatter, the familiar call of birds chirping to one another through the foliage, frogs croaking by the stream. He turned in a slow circle, searching for something that was there, but couldn’t be seen. Searching for who he knew had found him.
Then he could feel a tiny hand catching him from behind, and he turned, hoping to see a smile.
____
Warmth. That was the first thing Katsuki felt when he woke up, warmth.
He slowly cracked his eyes open, eyes dancing over a tiled ceiling, a steady beeping sound beating at his side. His body was encased in heat, and his cheeks felt flush underneath the sunlight that was streaming in from a nearby window, but it was his hand that felt particularly hot. He found his gaze pulling down to see why that was, but when he did, he was met with an all-to-familiar green. Katsuki scanned the boy’s eyes, tired, and worried, and expectant, and a million other things he could never hope to name. But what was more than that were his hands, wrapped around Katsuki’s, crooked and scarred but still somehow the gentlest thing he’d ever felt.
“Izuku…” he breathed.
Tears immediately sprung into Izuku’s eyes at the sound of his name, and his fingers tightened slightly around Katsuki’s, voice wavering unsteadily as he whispered, “Kacchan…”
Katsuki watched as they started dripping down his face, a crushing weight pushing against his chest at the sight. “Don’t cry,” he murmured instantly.
A giddy laugh escaped Izuku’s lips, and he let go of Katsuki’s hand to press his palms into his eyes, mumbling an apology through his forearms, and before Katsuki could stop himself—craving the contact they’d had before the boy let go of his hand—he was raising his arm up and running his fingers gently through Izuku’s green curls.
Izuku pulled his hands away from his face, a look of surprise flickering over his tear-stained features as he stared at Katsuki.
“Shouldn’t have done that to you,” the blonde murmured softly, running his tired fingers through Izuku’s hair one more time before letting his hand settle in the crook of the boy’s shoulder, a thumb brushing away some of the tears he’d been crying. “I didn’t mean to make you carry me.”
Izuku shook his head, hand coming up to meet Katsuki’s, wrapping soothing fingers around his aching joints. “It’s okay, Kacchan. You were hurt—”
“S’not okay,” Katsuki interrupted, his voice heavy, pulling his hand away from Izuku’s touch before his eyes glanced over toward the other corner of the room. Shitty Hair and IcyHot sat there, sleeping, both of them slumped into the other, a blanket thrown over the two of them haphazardly. A pile of grocery bags and discarded snack items sat in a chair beside them, probably a couple days worth, and Katsuki felt guilt swell in his chest. “Worried you,” he finished quietly.
But then he felt a hand wrapping around his fingers again, and turned back to look at Izuku, whose gaze was filled with something akin to anger as he firmly murmured, “I would’ve been worried anyways. Even if you hadn’t come to my place, I would’ve been here as soon as someone called me. I’d never…” he hesitated, fresh tears springing into his eyes as he finished, “I’d never leave your side, Katsuki.” Katsuki’s eyes widened a little, watching as Izuku bent his head reverently, pulling the blonde’s knuckles into his forehead, skin brushing against soft green curls, before he whispered, voice broken, “You have to know that.”
Katsuki stared at him blankly for a moment, because he did know that. That’s why he’d stumbled through alleyways and street corners just to reach him. Because he’d needed somewhere safe to land and he knew Izuku would catch him. He knew he’d be safe in his arms. He knew he could ask him for anything, and Izuku would never think less of him for it. He knew that he could be bloody and bleeding and defeated and Izuku would stare at him like he was the strongest person in the world. And…
I’m not going anywhere, I promise.
You still with me, Kacchan?
Hey, no falling asleep on me, alright?
Just hang in there...
Stay awake for me...
I’m right here, Kacchan. I’m not going anywhere…
I just need you to stay with me, alright?
I won’t leave you behind, I swear.
Oh.
Oh.
“Kacchan?”
Katsuki was still staring at Izuku, but it was different this time—because suddenly he was more than the kid he grew up with, or the nerd who used to sit behind him in class, or the hero he ended up rivaling. He was more than the person who pushed him forward, more than the boy who’d surpassed him long ago, more than a goal Katsuki had always hoped to achieve. He was more than the war-ending, One For All, Symbol of Hope, savior that everyone else expected him to be.
Because suddenly, Izuku had hung the stars. He’d flown over rooftops to save him. He’d held him close, and when his last breath had left his body, he’d pulled him closer. He’d never given up on him, not once. He’d stayed there, right beside him, with his voice constantly reassuring Katsuki that he wasn’t going anywhere. He’d waited, hand in hand, for his return. He’d carried him all the way here, he’d do it again.
And Katsuki loved him.
He couldn’t say it. He didn’t know how. And he was scared that if he tried, it wouldn’t mean the same way it felt, nestled inside his ribs, like a soft bed of wildflowers.
So instead, he just tugged Izuku’s hand closer, bringing the boy’s scarred knuckles up to his chin before placing the soft skin against his lips. He closed his eyes tightly, hoping that every ounce of his adoration, and gratitude, and love could be felt by the green-haired hero who sat beside him; hoping that it would be enough.
Then, he lowered the hand from his face, staring at it for a second, a dash of freckles dotting Izuku’s knuckles, and when he finally turned his head to look up at him, he was met with a beautiful smile.