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Numb.
It was all Katsuki could feel. Not pain. Not comfort. Just a hollow, floating emptiness that swallowed everything else. Maybe it was because of the medication flooding through his veins that dulled every nerve and thought, though he had no way of knowing that. His mind felt wrapped in fog, heavy and slow.
The room reeked of hand sanitizer and disinfectant. The sharp, clinical smell burned through his nose, making his stomach twist. It was too clean. Too sterile. Too wrong. He forced his eyes open, but all he could see was darkness. For a moment, he wondered if he was dreaming.
Where the hell am I?
The question echoed in his head, louder and louder, until it began to drown out everything else. He tried to sit up, but a sudden pull stopped him. Bandages tightened around his torso. Wires trailed from his arms and chest, connecting him to machines that hummed and beeped in steady, mechanical rhythms. The sound was calm, like it didn’t match the storm rising inside him.
His breathing quickened. The numbness began to crack, stabbed by the fear that crept into his chest. He couldn’t remember how he got here. He couldn’t remember what had happened. Every attempt to reach for a memory felt like grabbing at smoke.
Izuku.
He tugged again, harder this time. The wires strained. Something nearby let out a sharp, warning beep. Panic surged fully now, hot and suffocating. His heart pounded against the restraints, against the bandages, against the invisible weight pressing him into the mattress.
“Fuck—” Katsuki’s voice came out dry and broken, barely more than a whisper.
“Katsuki—it’s okay, son, it’s only me.”
Finally, he's pulled out of his trance. The sound of his father’s voice filled his ears, warming the once-cold numbness that had wrapped itself tightly around him. The sound of his father’s voice put him at ease. That familiar and kind voice had always been there, firm when it needed to be, yet gentle when he was at his weakest.
“Dad?” Katsuki rasped, confusion spiraling back into his chest.
“I’m here, son,” Masaru answered gently. “I’m right here.”
“Where am I?” His brows pulled together as he tried to lift his head, yet even that small movement sent a sharp ache through his body.
Even though his vision was still hazy, he could feel his father’s presence beside him. It was in the warmth of the air near his bed, in the steady rhythm of his breathing. As Masaru carefully patted his arm. The contact sent a quiet wave of comfort through him. Safe. Familiar. Home.
“You’re in the hospital.” Masaru quickly explained, trying his best to relieve the tension that had settled thickly between them.
Hospital?
Parts of his memory clawed their way back, fighting, shouting, the sharp crack of something collapsing, and the thick smell of dirt and rubble filling his lungs. Best Jeanist called out for him, and the sound of Izuku’s voice echoed through his mind. His heart began to race at the images flashing behind his eyes. Then nothing. Just darkness swallowing it all.
“You had heart surgery,” his father continued cautiously, “as with a few broken bones.”
The phrase didn’t feel real. It felt like something that only happened to other people, older people, weak people. Not him.
“shit,” he breathed, staring up at the ceiling. “Am I… okay?”
There was a pause. Not long, but long enough for doubt to creep in.
“Yes, Katsuki. You’re okay,” Masaru said, squeezing his hand gently in reassurance. “The doctors said the surgery went well.”
Katsuki released a staggered breath, his chest rising unevenly. “Where is he?” he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it. “And why is it so damn dark?”
Masaru shifted slightly beside him. "The doctor's in the other room," he explained.
“It’s two o’clock in the morning,” he said with a chuckle. “You should still be asleep.”
He blinked slowly, trying to focus on something, anything, but the room tilted again. The ceiling seemed to sway above him like it wasn’t attached properly.
“It’s all spinny, Dad,” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. “I feel drunk as hell.”
A soft laugh escaped his father, though it carried more relief than humor. “That’s the medication. You’ll feel a bit drowsy for a while. The anesthesia hasn’t fully worn off.”
Katsuki let out a weak huff. “Feels like the room’s on a rollercoaster.”
“You just went through surgery,” his father reminded him gently. “Your body’s still trying to catch up.”
Can I still catch up to you, Izuku?
“Where is he?” Katsuki repeated, his frown more visible.
“The doctor?” Masaru mused, a chuckle slipping through.
"What? No." Katsuki glared.
“There’s this boy, Dad,” he confessed. “Can you go find em’?”
Masaru’s brows lifted slightly. “There’s no boy here, son.”
“No, Dad, I’m serious,” Katsuki insisted, his words blending. “I think I love that boy.”
Masaru smiled knowingly. “Oh? And who is this mysterious boy?”
Katsuki let out a slow breath, sinking deeper into the white hospital sheets. “He’s a deku,” he muttered. "A total idiot."
His father hummed, amused. “Sounds serious.”
“Explosions…” Katsuki whispered suddenly, lifting his hands slightly, even though they trembled from exhaustion.
“That’s your quirk, son,” Masaru said lightly.
Katsuki shook his head faintly. “No, Dad. It’s his.”
Masaru blinked.
“Cause he makes my heart go boom.” He slurred, “boom, boom, fucking boom.”
For a moment, Masaru just stared at him, then a soft, breathy laugh escaped his chest.
Before Katsuki could continue, quiet footsteps approached from behind. The door clicked shut gently, the soft sound echoing in the stillness of the room. Masaru quickly turned his head, his hazel eyes meeting crimson.
Mitsuki stood by the door, her posture stiff, her eyes already glossy as if she had been holding herself together for far too long.
“Is he awake?” She breathed, her voice tight despite her attempt to sound steady.
“He’s…something, alright,” he replied with a fond chuckle, relief beneath it.
The footsteps grew closer. Katsuki felt it before he could even fully register what was going on. The air shifted, lighter, carrying the faint scent of home. A hand brushed against his face, gentle and careful, tucking a spiky strand of hair away from his forehead just like she used to when he was little.
She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his temple, lingering for a moment as if to make sure that he was truly there. Her hand didn’t leave his cheek, thumbing at the bandages that covered his face. It stayed, cradling him with a tenderness that spoke louder than words ever could.
“Katsuki, baby, it’s Mom.”
“Mommy?” his eyes widened, leaning slightly into her touch. “Don’t be pissed.”
A shaky breath left her. “I’m beyond pissed!” she frowned, her voice cracked halfway through. A quiet sob slipped free as she placed her other hand gently over his chest.
“You could’ve died.”
He frowned weakly. “I’m not dead, Ma.”
Her fingers tightened slightly against his hospital gown, feeling the steady rhythm beneath her palm, as if she needed to be certain it was real.
“You scared us,” she said softly. “Do you have any idea how much?”
He tried to shrug, but even that felt heavy. “Wasn’t tryin’ to,” he murmured.
The room fell quiet except for the steady beeping of the monitor. His parents stood on either side of him, one holding his hand, the other resting over his heart, grounding him, anchoring him. And for the first time since waking up, the darkness didn’t feel so cold.
But then something flickered across his face. Panic. Urgency.
“I can’t leave him.”
Mitsuki still. “Leave who, baby?”
“Where is he, Ma?” Katsuki asked, voice rough but insistent.
“Where’s who, love?” she questioned, confused, knitting her brows together.
“Izuku,” he groaned, trying to push himself up despite the protest of his body. “I need him.”
“He’s in the other room, bu—”
“He is?” he perked up instantly, a spark of life cutting through the haze. The weakness seemed to fall away for a split second at the thought that Izuku had been there all along.
“Yes, but—”
“Izuku?” Katsuki roared, calling out his name from the top of his lungs, the sound tearing through the quiet hallway beyond his door.
Mitsuki tried to steady him as he strained forward, breath uneven, heart monitor quickening in response. The desperation in his voice wasn’t subtle; it was raw, unfiltered, and almost afraid. As if he thought that if he didn’t call out to him now, he might disappear.
“Izuku!” Katsuki called out once more, louder this time.
“Let the boy in, Mitsuki.” Masaru chuckled under his breath. “Otherwise, he’ll wake the whole hospital.”
“Oh, God, fine!” she groaned.
Mitsuki turned back to her son and pointed a warning finger at him. “But you better behave yourself, Katsuki,”
Her high heels tapped sharply against the tile floor as she made her way toward the door, the sound echoing down the hallway before softening the farther she went. The sterile scent of antiseptic hung in the air, mixing with the faint hum of distant machines and murmured conversations from other rooms.
As she stepped out into the corridor, she was finally met with the boy her son had been so frantic about. Izuku stood only a few feet away, as if he hadn’t dared to move too far.
“Izuku, dear,” Mitsuki sighed softly, offering him a gentle smile.
Izuku had been standing outside his door ever since he woke up, too anxious to sit, too afraid to hear bad news. Now that he was finally allowed to see him, his composure threatened to shatter. Panic rose in his chest once more at the thought of Katsuki lying inside, hurt.
“H-how is he?” Izuku stammered, his voice trembling despite his effort to steady it.
“He’s okay,” Mitsuki reassured him kindly. “Just a bit out of his head.”
“Can I see him?” he asked, his eyes watering as he gripped the IV pole tighter, knuckles paling.
“Please? I’ll be quick,” he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper.
Mitsuki let out a heavy sigh, though her expression softened completely. Carefully, she took Izuku’s bandaged arm in hers, mindful of his injuries, and nodded.
“Come on.”
Slowly, she guided him toward the room. The door creaked open, and light from the hallway spilled into the dim space.
And then, Katsuki saw him.
For a moment, everything else faded: the beeping monitor, the ache in his ribs, the dull throb in his head.
God, he was beautiful. He thought, as he stared admiringly at Izuku.
Izuku stood in the doorway, dressed in a pale blue hospital gown, just like him. He was battered and bruised, though he remained upright. A hospital IV pole stood at his side, his fingers curled tightly around the cool metal for balance.
Izuku stepped forward carefully, IV pole rolling beside him with a soft squeak.
“Hi, Kacchan,” he whispered, offering him a small, trembling smile that still managed to light up the entire room.
“Boom,” Katsuki slurred.
“I'm so fucking cooked, Dad." he turned to face his father, "Isn't he pretty?”
“M-me?” Izuku stammered, his once pale face blushing red as he listened to Katsuki ramble.
“Always you, Izuku.” Katsuki faced him once more, staring into his green eyes.
Izuku moved closer, dragging the IV pole with him. His eyes were watering at the sight of Katsuki. His heart hammering out of his chest as he approaches Katsuki’s side, not breaking eye contact, as if it were a promise they couldn’t break.
“Why’re you cryin’?” Katsuki asks, looking up at Izuku’s tear-stained face.
“I’m just so happy you’re okay.” Izuku smiles, crying harder than he was before.
“God, you’re such a nerd,” he chuckled teasingly.
For a moment, the two of them stay in silence. Though this time, it wasn’t eerie or uneasy. It was comfortable and warm, the kind of quiet that didn’t beg to be filled. The air between them felt soft, like it was holding its breath just for them. Nothing else in the world seemed to matter but being there at each other’s side.
As Katsuki’s breath quickened, he reached a hand out, holding on to Izuku’s, looking up at him with a sad gaze.
“Don’t leave me again,” he said, his voice trembling with so much pain. “Okay?”
Izuku could only nod as he smiled at Katsuki. “Okay.”
Quietly, Masaru stood from his seat beside Katsuki’s bed. He walked to the other side, patting Izuku’s shoulder as he whispered in his ear. “Take care of him, will you, Izuku?”
Izuku looked over his shoulder, not letting go of Katsuki’s grasp as his eyes fell on Mitsuki and Masaru, who were approaching the door.
“We’ll be back in a bit, okay, boys?” Mitsuki smiled weakly as the door shut with a soft click.
“Izuku?” Katsuki said, his voice going back to that gruff rasp it was just a few seconds ago.
“Yes, Kacchan?“ Izuku turned back, his focus back on Katsuki.
“I love you,” Katsuki said. “So fucking much.”
Izuku paused, his cheeks growing redder, and his heart beating faster. His breath was ragged as he tried his best to find the right words, but just couldn’t. Surely it was just the medication that was taking over him...right?
“I-I love you too, Kacchan,” he smiled.
But before he could look into Katsuki’s piercing gaze once more, he was sound asleep.
_________________
Katsuki stirred awake as discomfort struck him. His whole body ached, sore in a way that sharply contrasted the numbness he’d felt before. A faint groan left his lips as he forced his eyes open, only to be met with blinding brightness.
The room that had once been cloaked in darkness was now washed in warm sunlight, golden beams spilling across the walls and settling over him like a quiet reminder that morning had come.
As he tried to sit up, a gentle weight pulled him back down. He frowned at first, thinking it was the bandages or the wires restraining him, but when he looked, his expression softened. It wasn’t the equipment keeping him there. It was Izuku. His short, muscular frame was curled against his side, holding onto him as if he never planned to let go.
He stared at the sea of green curls resting on his shoulder. Izuku’s bandaged arm hovered lightly over his chest. He steadied his breathing, pushing past the pain, and focused instead on the faint, comforting scent beside him. The ache still lingered, sharp but distant, though being close to Izuku made it easier to endure.
He buried his nose at the crown of Izuku’s head, feeling more at peace than ever before. Before he knew it, Izuku was shifting beside him, as he too started waking up from their peaceful nap.
“K-Kacchan! You’re awake.” Izuku greeted, his voice still raspy from sleep.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize that I was sleeping on your arm, let me move—” he apologized, blushing as he tried to scramble off the bed.
Without thinking, Katsuki pulled him back to his side, caging him with his good arm as he rested his head on top of Izuku’s.
“The hell're you doing?” he frowned, thumbing at the bandages that covered Izuku’s face.
Izuku stilled, quiet under Katsuki’s hold. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking up at Katsuki.
Looking down, Katsuki stared into those green orbs that never failed to hypnotize him. “Izuku?”
“Yes?” Izuku replied, breaking eye contact as he stared opposite Katsuki.
“Look at me,” he ordered softly, his voice gravely as he spoke.
Katsuki’s gaze met his. His eyes widened in surprise as warm lips pressed gently against his. A sharp breath escaped him, startled, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, leaned deeper into the touch. His green eyes fluttered closed as he shifted closer, turning just enough to face Katsuki fully, as if the rest of the world had quietly slipped away.
They pulled away softly, hearts pounding in the quiet. He lifted his hand and gently brushed away the tears that slipped from Izuku’s eye, his touch careful and tender.
“Kacchan…” Izuku whispered, unable to say anything else
Katsuki leaned down, kissing the corner of Izuku's eye that was spewing tears by the second.
"I love you, Izuku, “ he whispered.
“I love you more, Kacchan,” Izuku said, leaning into Katsuki’s touch.