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Izuku was frozen on the floor, back pressed against the wall and limbs wrapped around each other. Distantly, he registered how his shoulders ached. He must’ve been sitting there for a long time; though, for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out how long.
His head throbbed, something wet streaming down the side of his face. It was warm. Izuku clung to that, even if it made the fuzz grow heavier. He thought that warmth had been there for a while, traveling down his temple and eventually to the left of his eye. He vaguely realized that something was probably wrong.
A bone-deep ache buzzed under his skin, it’d been like that for a while, too, without Izuku noticing. Did that mean he was snapping back into clarity? That was good. Probably.
He heard thumping. Somewhere. Outside. Outside of the living room, outside his Hisashi’s apartment. Footsteps.
Something clicked. Izuku felt himself flinch. He was getting his energy back, then.
Awareness was flooding back quicker than it had been before as the front door opened. Still, he didn’t raise his gaze from his knees. Instead, his arms tightened their hold on his legs and he curled in on himself further.
There was a creek, followed by a sharp, choked inhale.
Izuku could pinpoint that voice anywhere.
“Deku!”
Kacchan was suddenly right next to him. Izuku felt a hand land on his shoulder. He tensed. The hand retracted.
“You— again…” Kacchan trailed off, voice hushed now. That was strange. No matter how many times Izuku heard it, Kacchan sounding quiet was odd.
The floor squeaked, Izuku could hear more footsteps on hard wooden floors. Kacchan probably stood up, muttering something about a first aid kit.
A few moments later, an eternity and a single second in one, something was being set down in front of him. Kacchan was probably right next to him again.
“Izuku…” Kacchan spoke, low and gruff, “Can you look at me?”
It was a simple request. It should’ve been. But a part of Izuku really didn’t want to. He wanted to stay in the darkness for a little longer. There was nothing amidst the black, no joy or sunshine, sure, but that meant that there was no fear, either. No anxiety, no hurt, no disappointed glares.
Izuku felt his breath hitch. The image dissipated out of his mind so quickly that he couldn’t even recall what he’d been thinking of.
“Izuku,” Kacchan spoke again. He— his voice was… shaking. “Please. Just… look up, okay?”
No fear.
No pain.
Nothing.
Not even Kacchan.
Kacchan… was there.
A few beats passed in complete silence. It was heavy, a weight pressing down on Izuku’s neck, keeping his face pinned down.
But Izuku’s experienced heavier things, he supposed.
Slowly, like he was treading through honey, Izuku lifted his head, eyes the only things that were clearly visible now. That should’ve been enough, right?
He tried not to, and he thought he wouldn’t be able to, but Izuku’s gaze landed on Kacchan’s. The blond sucked in a breath, eyes filled with worry and concern and dread and… fear. And anger.
That blaze was snuffed out a second later, though. Izuku felt something in his chest relax.
At the other’s presence, Izuku felt the tension lining his shoulders release, too, and he hesitantly choked out a small, “Sorry…”
Kacchan’s frown deepened. He quickly turned his head to something on the floor and soon enough there was a wet wipe in his hand, “Don’t apologize, idiot…”
“…Okay.”
“Can I clean that blood off?” Kacchan asked, wet wipe raised.
Blood? Is that what the warmth had been?
Wet, warm, traveling down from a— a source of pain… Right. Yeah. Blood.
Izuku nodded. He trusted Kacchan.
Once Kacchan began to… treat the wound, apparently, being impossibly gentle while wiping the blood off (and Izuku felt something inside him seize up for a split second. But then he instantly relaxed, arms loosening in their grip slightly), the greenette took the time to take in his surroundings.
Next to Kacchan was a first aid kit, that was probabaly what he’d set down earlier. Izuku was sitting on the floor, leaning against a door. His door. The door to his room. He could feel the pain of bruises trickling in, one by one, on his ribs, on his face, and one particularly stinging one on his temple. That one must’ve been where the blood was coming from.
Eventually, he began to… remember? Think about? What had happened prior to the haze.
Almost automatically, he buried those thoughts.
Not now. Another time, maybe when Kacchan was gone and Izuku could curl up on his bed, under the covers with an All Might poster staring at him. But not right now.
Had he missed something? Was that why Kacchan was here?
Hisa— Izuku wanted to come home for the weekend. He did. It had been a while and… the dorms were getting loud, anyway. Yeah.
(Never mind the fact that loudness kept his thoughts at bay, kept a smile on his face, overpowered every problem in his life. Hi- Izuku still knew he should probably take breaks and come home.)
So he arrived here and… must’ve missed a few texts. Or went off the grid for too long. Or somehow got so caught up in being home that he’d forgotten it was Monday. Was it Monday?
He… didn’t think so.
“What day ‘s it?” Izuku said without much thought.
The hand stilled for a second. But then Kacchan sighed. The wet wipe left his skin, Izuku found himself immediately missing the contact, but quickly a plaster was being pressed against the stinging wound. Izuku winced.
“Sunday.” Kacchan replied, resigned.
“Oh.” So that only left a few options. Kacchan wouldn’t come over unless something was wrong, “What… what’s… wrong?”
Kacchan looked at him like he’d admitted to murder. If not for the… everything, Izuku might’ve snorted.
“You haven’t been talking to anyone since you got back here.” Kacchan snarled the last word, quietly apologizing when Izuku flinched, “…So. I came and checked on you.”
“Why?”
The blond huffed, “The others were getting worried. And you forget that I— I don’t like this place.”
Izuku distantly appreciated the side-stepping. He found himself being able to work up a small quirk of his lips, “You… worry. Too much.”
Kacchan rolled his eyes, no venom behind the action, “Shouldn’t have given me a key, then.”
“I gave you that when we were… uhm. Eight.”
“Yeah? And I kept it because you’re prone to dying when unsupervised.”
Izuku felt something light make its way into his chest, it was familiar and welcome. It was the same lightness that would dance through the dorms and infect Izuku with laughter and love and ease. The plaster on his head became a warm sort of weight, distracting him from the reds and purples painted onto his skin.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me, either, nerd.” Kacchan lightly poked at his forehead, “You think you can get up?”
“Uh…” Izuku supplied helpfully.
“Y’know what? I’m just gonna pull you up. Tell me if you wanna stay on the floor and melt into the walls a little longer.”
Before he could even process what that meant, Kacchan was standing up and grasping the sleeve of his hoodie, gently pulling him up from the floor. Izuku tripped but quickly steadied himself, feeling the ache in his shoulders lift a bit. He stood on two shaky feet, though. That probably wasn’t good.
Kacchan was there. He let Izuku lean on his side, wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Izuku melted into the touch.
“You wanna go home?”
Home… home. The dorms. His home.
Izuku felt tears gather in his eyes at the notion. And with them came a sudden burst of awareness.
He was tired. He was so tired. He didn’t wanna be here. He wanted his friends, his teachers, All Might, Kacchan, his family. He hated it here. He missed them so much.
He hated it here.
The tears were spilling out freely, now. All the weight he’d been keeping firmly in his chest leaked out of his eyes in a big, splotchy mess. Izuku hiccuped, and sobbed, and hiccuped again. His face crumpled, his legs gave out.
Kacchan was there.
The blond quickly wrapped his arms around Izuku, a hug, a hold, keeping him up, keeping him from collapsing onto the floor in a heap. Leaning against his bedroom door. Bleeding and aching and fuzzy. Again.
Izuku sobbed into his shoulder, tears spilling down his cheeks and pooling on Kacchan’s shirt and dripping down his chin and splattering on the floor and blurring his vision. He buried his face into the crook of Kacchan’s neck.
He was tired. He wanted to be better, he did, he wanted it so badly. He was sorry he couldn’t be, but he was scared, so scared. Terrified. Please. Please let it just be easy. Please let it be okay. Please, please.
It was difficult. It was all so difficult. He wanted to go home.
He wanted it to get easier.
It was hard enough being here in the first place.
Minutes passed by like hours as Izuku sobbed and sobbed. Eventually, he got the strength to hold back onto Kacchan, wrapping his arms around the boy and grasping at his shirt with an iron grip.
All the while, Kacchan stayed. He just stood there, quiet, as Izuku poured his heart out, definitely ruining his shirt in the process. Kacchan held on tight, grounding and present. Kacchan pressed the side of his face into Izuku’s hair. As if he needed the comfort, too. As if he was grieving, too.
“It’s gonna work out, Izuku,” Kacchan whispered after a while, after the greenette’s tears finally started to slow. “You don’t have to come back here. You’re gonna be okay.”
And, because Kacchan knew him better than he knew himself, the blond choked out, “It’ll get easier.”