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When Katsuki entered the hospital room, Deku didn’t look up at him.
“We all think you’re the one most likely to get a response,” Iida had told him.
But they hadn’t sent him in first, because everyone had agreed the response might not be positive.
Halfway to the chair by Deku’s bedside, Katsuki stopped and scuffed his foot against the floor. Deku still didn’t turn, but he’d noticed. A muscle in his neck went tight, and his fists—strapped down at his sides—clenched tighter.
Satisfied, Katsuki walked over and grabbed the bedside table, dragged it over so it sat on the other side of the room, right under the wall mounted TV. Then he set his bag down and pulled out the DVD player, pushed the old tray of food aside to make room on the table for it. From there, the cord would be able to reach the screen above.
Katsuki didn’t have a ton of experience setting up this kind of thing—normally he and the Hag would start yelling at each other halfway through the process, and by the time they got done his Dad would have it finished. But Katsuki wasn’t about to be bested by a dumb piece of technology. And it was nice to have a task.
Eventually, he realized he was going to need the TV remote to switch inputs, and it wasn’t sitting on one of the side table’s lower shelves. He looked back, scanning the floor to see if it had dropped.
Deku had his eyes screwed shut. His mouth was moving, just a little, but there was no sound. He’d never been able to muffle his muttering like that before.
The remote was on the ground—it must have slid off when he moved the table. Katsuki grabbed it and set the monitor to HDMI2. Then he went back to the bag and pulled out a DVD: All Might VS. the League of Super Evil.
Once he got it playing, Katsuki turned up the volume just slightly louder than was probably polite. Then, finally, he went and sat down in the chair somebody had set there for him.
The opening song started playing.
With Deku’s eyes closed, it was easy to watch him without seeming nosy. He didn’t really have an expression, but he looked the opposite of relaxed—like he wanted to make a face, and something was stopping him. He had his head pressed back into the pillow, his shoulders hunched up as far as they would go. And he still wasn’t watching.
“Hey,” Katsuki said, “Open your eyes.”
When that didn’t work, Katsuki reached over, held his hand over Deku’s face and snapped his fingers.
All at once, Deku lurched forward and bit his hand.
Katsuki swore and pulled his arm back. Immediately, Deku closed his eyes again.
For a moment, Katsuki just sat there, shaking out his hand. He wanted to keep poking—he used to know just what buttons to push, how to rile Deku up. But there was a reason he hadn’t been sent here first. Just any kind of response wasn’t enough. So what did he need to do?
Understanding settled heavy in Katsuki’s chest. He’d lived this, once, from the other side. And there wasn’t anything besides this to be done. He’d just have to hold steady, and wait, and maybe one day it would happen. Maybe one day Deku would wake up and decide that he wanted to be friends again.
“What are you doing?” Deku said. He was looking now, head turned to stare.
Katsuki wiped his sleeve across his face. He was crying, but now he wanted to laugh.
Stop looking down on me, useless Deku.
“What, you think this is a ploy?” Katsuki managed. “Hey, moron—not everything is about you.”
Deku shifted in the bed, sitting up a little straighter. “Will they hurt you if you can’t show progress with me?”
Katsuki felt like he should probably have some kind of reaction to that, but if there was one, it was smothered. Everything felt so heavy. “There is no they,” he said. “We’re in a hospital. There’s—I donno, doctors and whatever.”
Deku’s eyes were still focused. “Sure.”
“Look,” Katsuki said, “Think whatever you want. It would be nice if you ate something.”
“Okay,” Deku said.
Before Deku could change his mind, Katsuki stood up and walked back over to the side table. He turned down the volume on the DVD player—Deku wasn’t really watching anyway. Then he looked down at the tray of food he’d pushed aside earlier, reached over and grabbed the drink with a lid and straw.
“It’s not poisoned or anything,” Katsuki said, and he took a sip. Then he made a face, swallowed before he could spit it out. “That’s terrible. There should have been ice in there. Why’d you let that sit so long?”
Deku didn’t respond.
Trying not to look disappointed, Katsuki went and sat back down, held out the cup so Deku could reach.
Deku leaned forward and took a big sip—then another and another, until Katsuki had to pull the cup away.
“Slow down,” Katsuki said, “You’re gonna choke yourself.”
Deku swallowed, got his breath back. Then he looked up again. “There’s people waiting for me,” he said, “I know it.”
Katsuki nodded. He didn’t trust himself to respond to that.
“I bet there are for you, too.” Deku continued, “Even if you don’t think so—I bet there’s people who knew you before all this—who still think of you, and hope you’re doing alright. Even if it’s been a while, if they don’t remember you very well.”
Katsuki set the drink down on the floor. He wondered if whoever had taken Deku had seen this side of him as a weakness, if they’d used it to pull him under. They couldn’t have known it was also the thing that would bring him back out again.
“My name’s Midoriya,” Deku said, “What’s yours?”
Katsuki hesitated, only for a moment. Then he said, “My friends just call me Kacchan.”