Chapter Text
Four Months, Twenty-three Days, Sixteen Hours Since Deku Arrived in America
It's not like Izuku hasn't been to the Public Relations classes, because he has.
In fact, Izuku has been far more than he needed, because a. Aizawa thought all of class 1-A were amusingly incompetent with the reporters and b. Kacchan has never been good at... toning anything down, never mind his aggression.
And he dragged Izuku along to every meeting he had, every seminar that he had to sit in, just so someone could say they were paying attention. Izuku would sit there, with him, his partner, listening to a teacher, a rep from some agency, or a hero talk about interviews and paparazzi, and being a public image. He would write down the same copy of notes every time, even though he knew it would be useless to look back on.
Now, though, Izuku thinks that he should've gone to more. He skipped out on one to go get tea with All Might--Kacchan had called him nothing but fanboy for three weeks after, no matter how many times Izuku had whined at him to stop.
Which is exactly the problem, actually.
Because while this perfectly polite lady with a name Izuku can no longer remember (because he's an idiot) and a burgundy orange color painted on her nails--do not go there, Izuku--is asking him questions, he's not paying any attention.
Or maybe he is, but only enough to catch the end of each question she has. He keeps asking her to repeat herself, hoping that she just assumes that his English is lacking--even with his perfect enunciation--or that he's maybe a bit of an airhead, which, honestly, he might as well be.
When he was fourteen he'd thought that at least he was intelligent, if possibly (definitely) socially awkward. But now Izuku has nothing going for him.
He can't even get through one interview without thinking back to home, without wondering where he is, what he's doing, if he misses him, if he's going to call him to come back any day now--
"Have you been keeping up with your schoolmates back in Japan?" She's asking him, as he drifts off once again. The word Japan has him looking up with unforgivable surprise. "I know your fans have been mourning the lack of any DynaDeku content online, recently."
Izuku's mind stops abruptly.
This is probably karma for not paying enough attention, for wasting this charming lady's time and agreeing to this interview in the first place. Which, why did he do, again? His publicist is never pushy with the interviews, and it's not like he's lacking in public support, or needs to boost any morale for All Might's American agency, and, honestly, Izuku can't even talk to the receptionist at his office so why would he be able to--
But Izuku only laughs, a hand scratching at the back of his head. "I--um, I talked to Uravity the other day, and Shoto recently. He likes to send me pictures of his cat," he laughs again, distant and lacking, and then clears his throat. "She's very cute."
"And Dynamight?"
Izuku should've asked for some tea or something. He should've faked sick today or died this morning when he took down that Capitalism villain.
"What about him?"
"Your relationship is very admirable, staying as close as you have since you graduated nearly a decade ago. How is he dealing with your agency back home all by himself? Do you speak to him often?"
"Um, Kacc--Dynamight works really hard. He's usually pretty busy. You know, with, um... work, the agency, and everything. He's very dedicated and—and strong."
That's not too telling, is it?
(That last bit isn’t his fault. Izuku’s brain just has a natural tendency to praise Kacchan any chance it gets. Nothing new about that).
Izuku has been online, obviously, and he knows what the fans are saying--that they've fought, that Kacchan sent him away, that their agency is slowly billowing down to the realm of failure and destitution, even despite their rescue numbers staying the same in Izuku's absence.
It's strange enough to Izuku because Kacchan has never failed at anything, so why would this be any different?
Why doesn't Kacchan seem to care?
Still, there are the people who suspect nothing. Who believe that Izuku is doing what he's always done--living off of All Might's victories and symbolism. Being the same fanboy he's been since he was four years old.
Not that it matters what they’re saying, since Izuku can’t even decide which rumors are right himself.
But this interviewer seems to know because Izuku is pretty sure that she's frowning. That might just be his imagination, though. "So you don't talk often?"
"We talk, you know, uh, pretty often. I-I guess.”
"You do?"
"Mmm-hmm."
"And how do you feel, being so far away from him? Do you miss him? Is it weird to fight without him by your side?"
Izuku's face feels a bit tight. Maybe he got punched earlier today and didn't realize it. Maybe he's got some strange American disease and he'll die before this interview is over. Wouldn't that be nice?
"It's a little strange," Izuku breathes, "He's the best. Strong." He said that already, didn't he?
"And does he miss you? Is it strange for him, as well, without your help?"
This is why he should've paid more attention to those classes, to Aizawa's lectures, he thinks, because even at twenty-five, he can't tell a convincing lie, can't say the right things, and can't keep his mouth shut when he's supposed to.
Kacchan had always reprimanded him for that.
But it's not like he can just say I haven't spoken to my partner since I left for America and I'm pretty sure he doesn't want me to come back because he won't answer my calls.
So, Izuku laughs once more, and maybe it's a bit real this time with all its self-pity. None of this is his fault, really. Aizawa should've prepared them better for this.
"I don't think Kacchan has ever needed anyone's help."
Three Days, Twenty-One Hours Since The Final Battle
Bakugo Katsuki has never needed anything.
When he was a kid and scraped his knees tripping on a dumb tree branch, he didn't need his mom to coddle him and put on one of his All Might bandaids--he merely allowed her to. He didn't need her to tell him to be more careful, to kiss his forehead, or make him promise to come home before it got dark.
He might've been a child, but he was never an idiot. He was never as weak as those other kids whose moms had to chase them outside and remind them how to survive.
Katsuki didn't cry over little things like scrapes, he got the best bandages they had, and even if his mom did put some antibacterial ointment on his knees, he didn't need her to.
He's never needed anything to keep going, sure as a blaze in the sky.
But when Katsuki wakes up, no feeling in his right arm, but every feeling in his chest--he fucking needs to get up.
There's a panic that hits him as he comes to, a pain that springs from the tips of his fingers--or half of them--and trails to the rest of his body. Almost sore like he had a rough workout, but instead of sprouts of pain where muscle regrows, it's all completely fucking burning.
He can tell as soon as he opens his eyes that he's been sleeping for a long time. His hair is greasy, his face feels stiff like it's been smushed into one of the cheap hospital pillows, and his limbs are immovable. His legs are crying as he twitches for the first time.
Katsuki has woken up in hospitals so many times at this point, it's not even a surprise. Just another blow to his ego.
And it's not long before a nurse rushes into his room, eyes wide as she sees him scrambling on the bed, one hand pushing against the bed rails, the other, useless one stuck to his side. She tells him to stay where he is and murmurs to Katsuki that everything is perfectly fine but he's not listening.
In fact, he can't really hear. And even if he could, he thinks, beneath the pain and panic, he wouldn't mindlessly listen to some nurse he's never even seen before.
Auntie Inko would be tutting if she could see him now.
Katsuki doesn't even care, though. He doesn't care about the stupid oxygen mask on his face, or the fact that he can't feel his arm, or that he's all alone in this hospital room when he’d basically died--
No, Katsuki needs to get up, right now.
He has to find Deku.
Katsuki can't remember where he was when he passed out, but he knows that Deku was still fighting. He knows that when he was passing out because of pain, or blood loss, or a goddamn heart attack, Deku was fighting with his broken fingers, or racing after another villain like he had to fix every little thing all by himself.
And Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight doesn't know where that idiot is, but when he finds out, Deku is in for one hell of a--
"Brat,” he hears abruptly like his senses have just returned to him. “You're up.”
His mom is standing there, styrofoam cup in her hand. And, Jesus Christ, she's already scowling at him.
To be fair, Katsuki is currently crawling over the bed rail, one leg slung over the edge, the other dangling idly as he uses his good arm to push him up. His muscles have been broken to hell and it's not his fault no one thought to strap him down. Seriously, someone should have learned by now.
Not that he wouldn’t just blast through the restraints, but it’s the thought that counts.
The effort it’s taking him to move is debilitating. Katsuki feels like he can’t breathe—but he’s not going to die in a stupid hospital room before getting to kill Deku himself.
"Katsuki," his dad says from behind her, already exasperated. "You need to stay in bed, you're still--"
"Oi, brat, lay down."
His voice is raw from misuse as he immediately snaps, "Don't order me around, I need to--"
But then she's pushing him back, albeit gently--as gentle as Mitsuki Bakugo gets--making him lay in a hospital bed he knows he's been glued to for days.
His eyes are like daggers, but she's never been afraid of him, so Bakugo Mitsuki just glares right back. His shitty mom doesn't even care that he's a goddamn hero.
And he's just about to say as much when Masaru walks to the other side of his bed, placing a hand on his dirt-filled hair, already smiling. "How do you feel, kiddo?"
Katsuki feels like he wants to kill someone--maybe whoever broke his whole body--and then demand their corpse to tell him whatever the hell happened. He feels like he’s about to pass out from exhaustion, even though he’s only been awake for three minutes. He feels like Izuku should be here by his bedside instead of his dumb parents because at least Deku would understand what he needs to hear right now. At least Deku could recap the whole battle through all of his muttering.
Katsuki's not telling his dad that.
"Like hell," he grunts, sitting up again.
Mitsuki scoffs, dragging one of the chairs to his side. But even with that smart-ass look on her face, she reaches through the rail to rest her hand on his. "Now you know how it felt watching you get thrown around."
Katsuki frowns, but he doesn't push her off. The hag knows he hates his hands being touched—that’s probably why she’s doing it—but she also hasn’t yelled at him quite yet.
So it’s fine. For now.
"Where's Deku?"
His parents exchange a quick look, always acting like he can't see them when he's literally right there--
"He was sleeping, last we heard," Masaru says, shaking his head a little bit fondly.
Katsuki hates how the pain in his chest subsides, even if only a little. He didn't need anyone to tell him that--of course, Deku is fine. Katsuki made sure of that. "So the dumbass didn't get himself killed?"
"Don't call your friends names," his dad tells him, ruffling his hair and taking a step back.
Two months ago Katsuki would’ve singed his hair off for calling Deku a friend.
Katsuki can see the lines on his dad's face and the circles under his eyes. They've probably been sleeping here, or at least nearby, under the guard of whoever is watching this place--it's not like they have a home to go rest at or any ordinary place without criminals running wild.
"He's fine, kid, and so are you," Mitsuki squeezes his good hand, and, for once, Katsuki doesn't snap at her when it hurts.
He can't see any evidence of concern on her face, but he's used to that. She looks the same as she has since he was a little brat, and probably always will.
Katsuki's throat hurts. His eyes are sore, even though they’ve been shut for days. His body is on fire--he's not used to getting injured, or feeling like he lost, even when he knows very well that they won.
He's not an idiot--if All For One had gotten the upper hand he wouldn't even be here right now, nonetheless his parents, or shitty Deku. He would be crawling in hell, trying to figure out how to kill that bastard from the underworld.
But that bit of common sense doesn't make the blanks in his memory any easier. What happened to All Might? Katsuki remembers him on the battlefield and remembers saving him, but he can't remember what happened to the man after. What about his dumb classmates? And the other extras? Did they all survive? Did they get the villains like they were supposed to?
Katsuki swallows, not wanting to hurt his pride by asking one of his parents for some water. "How long was I asleep?"
"They rushed you into surgery for your heart, and then your arm. It's been a day since then."
Katsuki looks down at his chest, but it's covered in bandages. Just plain, boring ones this time--no All Might to grin back at him. That's probably better anyway, Katsuki doesn't want anyone comparing him to Izuku.
It also explains why it feels like someone cracked open his ribs and sliced his organs to pieces.
"I gotta see Deku," he says, instead of asking for pain medication or wondering about why he can't move his arm, or why it's in a cast.
He doesn't even care, honestly. He'd much rather hear it from a doctor than Masaru who already looks like he's about to start crying.
Katsuki doesn't have the energy for this.
"You're not supposed to be moving around, kid," Mitsuki lets go of his hand, sitting back with her arms crossed. "You're going to be stuck to that bed until they can fly someone out to put you back together."
"Then push me into his damn room, old hag," he grumbles, laying his head back against the bed.
Masaru rubs his shoulder. "Izuku hasn't woken up yet, so he hasn't been allowed any visitors. We'll talk to the doctors, though."
"No, we won't," Mitsuki's eyes are sharp. Katsuki already knows that his dad won’t argue with her. "You're going to sleep and we're going to sit here and watch you."
And Katsuki might fight back, but everything goes blurry once more. His eyes hurt because he's been forcing them to stay open, he realizes. Damn injuries ruin everything.
Katsuki might need to get up, but he falls asleep instead, thinking about how he's going to kill Deku the next time he sees him.
Izuku , he thinks, for the second time—but he can’t remember what's supposed to come next.
Izuku isn't very surprised to see him standing there, even though he should be.
It's been well over a year since Izuku was really afraid of Kacchan, but that doesn't mean that he's not the same jumpy boy he's always been, that his anxiety doesn't linger on his shoulder like the devil, watching just to make sure.
Heck, Izuku jumps when his mother knocks on his door at home. He jumps when Iida puts the News on a little bit too loud in the morning, or when All Might appears in his true form, smiling always like he knows something that Izuku doesn't.
He’s always been that way, maybe a little bit too open, so sure that anyone at any moment could find his weak spots and poke at them. And there’s a lot of weak spots.
Izuku has always been so preoccupied with wanting to save other people that he forgot to measure up his own defenses. Which, for anyone else, might be a problem.
Not to Izuku, though, not when it’s Kacchan.
Izuku isn't surprised to see Kacchan at the door, so he doesn't jump. His presence isn't that unusual anymore, not since he came and rescued Izuku from his own prison like the hero that he is. In fact, before everything happened, Kacchan seemed to be… dealing with Izuku. Helping him, even.
And even in his hospital bed, Izuku feels a prick of gratitude.
Besides, Izuku has always been drawn to Kacchan in that way. His eyes just look for him, seek him out because he knows that Kacchan will have an answer if he doesn't, that Kacchan will be smiling viciously if Izuku is scared.
It's sort of nice, to have someone completely different from him by his side; someone with the same goals, but never the same mindset. They are like All Might said, two sides of the same coin in their way, and Izuku feels just a little bit lucky like that. When he was a kid, he'd felt so alone in his goal.
But now it's theirs. And Izuku looks up to find Kacchan because he always does. Because even if Kacchan is pulling a trick, Izuku has always been happy to be scared by him. Kacchan’s known all of his weak spots since they were four years old.
That doesn't mean that the tears on his cheeks aren't surprising, though.
As soon as Izuku sees them he gets that feeling in his chest again--the same feeling he got when he saw Kacchan being attacked the first time, the same feeling that makes him want to run and fight, even if he's completely defenseless.
But Izuku can barely feel his arms right now, and the rest of his body is completely unknown to him.
So he has to watch as one tear dribbles down Kacchan's cheek, his eyes wider than Izuku has seen them since they were kids.
"Kacchan!" Izuku wants to wave his hands at him, to wipe his tears away or maybe hit him with a Delaware smash because Kacchan shouldn't be crying just looking at Izuku--because he just got done getting rid of All For One and Izuku isn't going to let a couple of tears take him down. "Why are you crying?" He asks, almost whining like they're kids again. "I'm fine. And--and All Might too! We're great!"
"He's right, Young Bakugo, you were both very courageous--"
"Embers?" Kacchan interrupts, voice cracking. And maybe that's why Izuku feels the sting in his eyes.
He smiles all the same. He's so glad that Kacchan is okay--he can remember that feeling, when he was gone, and Izuku never wants to feel that way again.
...Maybe he should find someone with a memory loss quirk, actually.
"It's okay, Kacchan," Izuku wants to beckon him over, but he can't. "I couldn't have passed One For All on if I didn't want to."
Kacchan is just staring at him. "So, you're..."
"Quirkless."
Kacchan nods, just once. He stills for a moment and then nods again.
And then another tear falls down his cheek, more collecting in his eyes.
"Kacchan!" Izuku's eyes basically fall out. He looks over at All Might, panicked. "Are you on a lot of pain medication or something?"
Kacchan scoffs, one forearm coming up to wipe at his eyes. "No, nerd, no," he shakes his head. "No, not... I mean, I just--I thought--" Kacchan's mouth stays open, but he doesn't continue, words seemingly stuck in his throat.
"It's really fine," Izuku says, again, but more empathetically. "I got to chase my dream like I've always wanted. And I've still got the ember so it's not that big of a deal, who knows what might happen in the future? I mean, being quirkless never really bothered me, and it's--it's just like when we were kids, Kacchan, so you don't need to--"
Kacchan snorts, running a hand through his hair. "So, you're fine then. Shitty as ever."
Izuku smiles, wobbily. He'll never be used to Kacchan crying. "And so's Kacchan."
They meet each other's eyes, and something panicked, frightening, and almost insignificant is passed.
And then All Might speaks: "You two have grown so much."
"You good too, old man?"
"I'm so proud of both of you," All Might says like it's an answer. He smiles and it reminds Izuku of his favorite video, of being a kid and knowing that everything would be all right. "My heroes."
Kacchan meets Izuku's eyes again, and though there is much more to come, Izuku is sure that it'll all be fine because it isn't surprising. He's gotten used to it by now.
And when Kacchan gives Izuku a little smile back, sharing that nostalgic feeling, well, Izuku will get used to that too.
It becomes a quick habit for Izuku to sneak into Kacchan's room.
Mostly because he doesn't want to intrude on All Might's healing process, or the people who seem to be constantly visiting, all of them looking towards Izuku like he's been misplaced. Like he's a pest in the presence of the Symbol of Peace.
Not that the visitors are completely frequent. The screening process, his mom tells him, is very vigorous. Even though she's been there every day, traveling from the safe zones U.A. set up before everything went down, they still ask her a multitude of questions and get one of the guards standing outside with a lie detection quirk to assure that Inko is who she says she is.
Still, All Might has always been charming, even with his more awkward disposition, so it's no shock that people are constantly entering the room to see him, or that there are groups of fans gathered outside--even after several warnings to avoid gathering in large groups while the remaining heroes and law enforcement attempt to track down straggling villains--waiting for his release.
It doesn't exactly help that Izuku doesn't feel like talking to anyone, right now. Even if there weren't tons of people coming into their room every day, doctors and visitors alike, he’d still feel overwhelmed with everything, desperate for somewhere he could be alone.
He doesn't want to explain anything, anymore. Not the new injuries he's collected like they're special edition All Might cards, not Tenko or the millions of revelations that Izuku should probably be having.
He especially doesn't want to talk about One For All. Only All Might can really understand what Izuku's body feels like in the power's absence, and even All Might had never experienced the intimacy of the past users, the surge of energy that brushed through his limbs each time he used one of their quirks.
Izuku doesn't want to talk at all, really, not now.
And Kacchan never feels the need to fill the silence. Kacchan doesn't make small talk.
About three days after he'd woken up, Izuku had limped into Kacchan's room, seeking some solace from both Inko and All Might, who couldn't stop talking about everything that was happening outside.
It might have been because Kacchan was sleeping at the time, but when Izuku knocked, he wasn't turned away.
Auntie Mitsuki and Uncle Masaru weren't staying at the hospital but at one of the safe shelters, like Inko, so it was just Izuku and Kacchan in the room.
Izuku had just sat there, staring out the window, enjoying the peace and quiet that came with the darkness of Kacchan's room. When Kacchan had woken up, a glare in his eyes as soon as they were open, he had accused Izuku of being a fuckin’ creep , watching him sleep like that.
But still, Kacchan didn't kick him out. When Izuku asked how he was feeling, Kacchan just said to leave him the hell alone and for Izuku to refrain from any of his annoying mumbling.
Izuku had smiled at that, despite himself, and sat there with Kacchan for the rest of the day. Every once in a while, he would murmur something or Kacchan would complain about some pain in his chest or his arms.
The nurses who came to check Kacchan's vitals gave Izuku many looks, somehow both disapproving and fond. Everyone knew that he wasn't really supposed to be in someone else's room, or away from his own, but none of them ever said anything to him directly.
Izuku took it as a victory, even if Kacchan demanded that Izuku get him some water or fluff his pillows. Kacchan was usually loud, but now he whispered, and neither of them bothered to turn on the lights.
The next couple of days went similarly. Kacchan complained each time he saw Izuku walk into the room, but he never kicked him out, never yelled anything harsher than shitty nerd into the air.
And on the second night, when Izuku had murmured to the other boy that he just liked the quiet, liked avoiding everyone's questioning and getting some actual rest--even in the hard plastic of the hospital chair--Kacchan huffed, but never said anything else about Izuku being clingy .
During the first week, when Izuku had spiked a fever--something about an infection, something about his lack of immune system after the month of running wild--Kacchan had come to his room, instead, looking like he'd rather murder everyone than be there.
But Kacchan usually looked like that.
Izuku's fever had passed that evening, after both Inko's and Kacchan's insistence that he drink well over a gallon of water that day to flush his system, and after that, Izuku decided that they should stick to Kacchan's room.
So they did.
A week into the hospital, Uncle Masaru had brought them some cards from the shelter, and Izuku and Kacchan played dozens of games, some of them made up from when they were little kids, Kacchan insisting that he'd won every time, even if he really hadn't.
Sometimes, Izuku would laugh at him and call him a sore loser. Other times, he just let Kacchan rant, leaning an arm on his bed and enjoying it even when Kacchan started throwing cards at his stupid nerdy face.
When either of them was too tired, Kacchan coming back from some erratic physical therapy lessons, Izuku getting his bandages redone, or another x-ray, they would watch All Might documentaries on old discs that had been fished from hospital storage. They might argue over stupid inaccuracies in the events, or quote one of their teacher's speeches, but mostly they stayed silent.
Kacchan didn't even protest when Izuku would lay his head against the other boy's bed, his neck usually sore by the end of the movie.
Every once in a while, Kacchan would ask him a question about Tenko, or All Might, or All For One, and Izuku found that he didn’t really mind. When anyone else asked, he felt that unspoken question of have you really saved us lingering in the air.
But Kacchan was never worried, only curious, and he could piece together what Izuku was saying even if he'd only answered with a sentence or two. And he never pushed if Izuku didn't want to talk.
Their classmates were in different rooms, in different hospitals located closer to where they'd been stationed for the final battle. Izuku heard back every other day or so on their healing, Jirou's earjacks, and Uraraka's progress.
A couple of times, Kaminari or Yaoyorozu would visit Kacchan's room and play a game with them. Kaminari would spend his time tormenting Kacchan or trying to get the nurses to bring them desserts, and Yaoyorozu would lecture him and then get the sweets herself. She'd make bland comments about the other students because she was the most connected out of all of them, and people always seemed to forget that they were talking to a student when she was around, and not some version of royalty.
But they only stayed for an hour or two at a time, giving them pleasant waves when they left.
It was mostly just Izuku and Kacchan though, and the silence between them.
However, a week into this arrangement, when Izuku had started to feel strange going to his own room, seeing All Might and feeling like an intruder--even with the blankets Inko had brought for him, his pillow from home, and an old sweater she gave to him that Izuku cuddled at night just because it smelled like her. The man was always sleeping when Izuku tiptoed through the hallways, sneaking back into the room and shutting the door with nothing more than a soft click. He tried to slow his breathing, to crawl into bed without ruffling the sheets, and winced at every small noise that he made.
But All Might never woke up, never asked him where he went or if he was alright. Izuku liked that--when All Might saw him he would mostly just smile, a sort of pride in his eyes that Izuku had experienced from no one else but his mother.
It made him warm.
But that didn't make the cold that he felt going back to his own hospital room any easier, almost like he was missing some security without Kacchan right by his side.
And Izuku knew it was a bad sign--Hound Dog had lectured all of them many times about coping skills, about attaching themselves to something unhealthy, grounding themselves with something that would never be permanent.
Kacchan had always been by Izuku's side though, even if he was growling, or cursing Izuku's very name. And he figured that it would be okay to feel close to him, at least while they were in the hospital. The rational part of his brain argued, but the part that had died with Kacchan when Izuku first glimpsed him on the battlefield didn't care. That part of his brain had always been dark, had been so scared of being alone.
So, a week after they'd both woken up, a week after Kacchan had cried for Izuku and said nothing else to him--Izuku managed to fall asleep in Kacchan’s room without anyone kicking him out.
It was mostly an accident, but if anyone had asked him, Izuku would slyly admit that he didn't mind, that he spent most of his time in Kacchan's room anyway, so what was the harm? They were watching a movie, he didn't want to leave.
Simple as that.
But Izuku only knew this because his eyes had fluttered open in the dim light coming in from the moon, the shadows dancing across the walls. His back was stiff, his neck hanging forward as he tried to rest on his own shoulder.
He only knew this because he heard his name whispered, so softly it could've been a dream.
"De—Izuku," Kacchan said, voice gravely from sleep. "C'mon."
"Huh?"
Izuku's eyes were blurry, his mind just glimpsing reality as Kacchan reached for him, pulling at the neck of his shirt.
"Get in the bed," Kacchan told him, no question in his voice. "I don't wanna deal with your whining,” he said, but his voice was so tired that Izuku couldn't be sure if he meant it.
Izuku only hummed, and his legs moved before he could think about it, "Okay, Kacchan," he said, and Kacchan moved his blanket so that Izuku could slide underneath it with him.
Izuku was too tired to think about Kacchan making room for him, or Kacchan having to readjust him with his one good arm. He was almost asleep when Kacchan tucked the blanket into his side, grumbling under his breath as he did it.
It was easy to fall asleep like that. Kacchan was a bit cold, but Izuku didn't mind.
And he only knew all of this because when he'd woken up in the morning, almost sure that it was a dream, Kacchan's chin was digging into his shoulder, Izuku having wrapped his arm around the other boy's chest to keep himself from falling.
When he'd woken up that morning, his neck was still sore and Kacchan's knee was pushing into his hip. But Izuku thought it was better than sleeping in his own bed, where there was no one to be quiet with.
It was only when the nurse came in that morning that he got up, smiling sheepishly at her while he promised that both he and Kacchan were fine. Kacchan was just barely awake then, red eyes glimpsing at the two of them, but he'd let Izuku handle it.
And when she left, sparring Izuku only a few whispered warnings, Kacchan didn't mention it. So neither did Izuku.
But each night after, when Izuku accidentally fell asleep in his chair, Kacchan would wake him up after it got dark, beckoning him into bed without a thought. It was good like that.
Izuku stayed with Kacchan, his mom coming to visit when she wasn't helping around the hospital.
Auntie Mitsuki would roll her eyes at the two of them when she brought them breakfast, but she didn't yell when Izuku was around.
They stayed in the silence, the absence of what had been lost.
While the world was being rebuilt around them, Izuku and Katsuki stayed in the dark, hiding from those prying eyes.
Kacchan had always been Izuku's world, anyway.