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I want him to stop.
Katsuki struggles to untangle the tumultuous feelings rattling deep in his ribcage, threatening to overflow in a fit of rage as it so often does. His emotions are so strong, and he doesn’t know how to put them into words that don’t give off the same energy as fierce cat scratch. He’s this close to exploding - but he can’t, he can’t. Not right now, not when Deku needs him, when he's being so pliant under his careful touch.
He palms the side of Deku’s face, using his thumb to tilt his chin. He angles his face closer to the bathroom light, exposing the next gash that needs his attention. 3 inches, just below his left eye, slicing into the patch of freckles that crinkles when he smiles. Deep, but not enough for Katsuki to attempt stitches. Katsuki clicked his tongue in disapproval.
This didn’t earn any defensive muttering from Izuku, who’s tired, apologetic eyes remained downcast toward the floor, only occasionally glancing up at Katsuki’s displeased get focused expression. If Izuku didn’t look so exhausted, so checked out, he might even seem embarrassed.
Katsuki carefully wiped away streaks of blood and cleaned the cut with alcohol, making sure to disinfect the skin around it and as well as inside. Izuku, the bastard, didn’t even flinch, just clenched his jaw harder, which Katsuki could feel as he cupped Izuku’s face.
After disinfecting, he gently dabbed on some healing ointment and taped the skin together with a butterfly bandage, making sure the edges were neatly smoothed down. He sincerely hoped Deku wasn’t getting the wrong idea from his impeccable wound care — he can be gentle when he needs to be, he can — but that doesn’t mean he’s not fucking pissed.
“Why, Deku. What the hell happened this time?”
Izuku gave no response.
“Let me guess. They started it?”
Izuku glared at the floor, and continued to say nothing.
“Or maybe you did. But you had to. Because there was no other way, it had to be you, you had to step in.”
Izuku closed his eyes at that point, eyebrows furrowing as he struggled to avoid joining what would end up being another losing battle, albeit verbal this time.
Katsuki used to think Izuku was intentionally giving him the silent treatment, in times like these, which would make him even more angry. Now he understands this is just Izuku at his lowest. When he really has nothing left in the tank, nothing to say for himself.
Katsuki took a deep breath, looking at Izuku downturned form, before sighing and returning to his work. He already patched up the wounds on his chest, right temple, hairline and eyebrow. He taped Izuku’s broken finger on his right hand. and now he’s done with the left eye. There’s nothing that can be done about his busted lip or bruised ribs, he’ll just have to fucking deal.
Clearly someone brought a blade to this fight, meaning Deku's opponents likely knew beforehand they’d have no shot in a battle of brute strength. But the wounds were so varied, he couldn’t totally piece together what went down. Even if the other guys looked worse, Izuku still looked awful. Did he miss anything?
Katsuki tilted Izuku’s head this way and that way, checking for any areas he missed, eventually feeling a damp patch of hair on the back of his head. When he pulled his hand back, his fingertips were sticky with blood.
“Jesus Izuku, did someone fucking bash the back of your head with a crowbar or something?! What the actual fuck, I can’t believe—"
“Baseball bat”, Izuku corrected, voice low and graveled with shame. Katsuki didn’t even have to ask him to bow his head to let him see- Izuku’s head lung low into his arms on its own.
Katsuki stood up from the stool positioned across from Izuku to get a better angle.
“The lighting in this bathroom is so shit. Turn a bit so I can actually see.”
He nudged Izuku’s leg, prompting the defeated man to spin his legs around to the other side of the toilet seat so Katsuki had a better view of the dark, sticky patch of hair.
After thoroughly staining Izuku’s (only) washcloth red, and painstakingly combing through his ridiculously tangled curls, Katsuki cleaned the swollen bump on the back of his head enough to find the source of the bleeding and tape that up too.
“Can you even think straight? Fuck Deku, I’m used to your insufferable, tortured solo-act silent treatment, but your head has a bump the size of a coffee mug and traumatic brain injuries are not in my goddamn pay grade.”
“Yes, yeah, I’m fine. It’s all good, Kacchan.”
Katsuki gripped Izuku’s chin again and tilted his head up to force eye contact. Everything he’s been feeling, everything crashing inside him while he patched up Izuku’s wounds again, after hearing his roommate limping through their front door late into the night again, after Deku said he would try to lay low only to stick his nose where he shouldn’t again, was taking a toll on Katsuki’s heart.
I want him to stop. Why can’t he just stop? Why can’t he just stay safe? Why can’t he stay whole, for once? What’s stopping me from duct taping his ridiculous shoes to the floor? What will it take for him to finally stand down?
“Izuku. I’m serious. Don’t bullshit me right now. I’m trying everything I can to spare you the ER bill, but if you die from a brain bleed in your sleep, I will kill you again, and then kill myself and then haunt you forever. Are you actually good?”
Izuku looked at him this time, properly. Resignation, exhaustion, and guilt pooled in his pupils. “Yep, swear. I’m okay. I’ve had concussions before, I definitely have one now. But the pain’s dull, it’s not getting worse over time or anything, and I’m not nauseous, can see fine. It looks worse than it is. I’m good, Kacchan.”
Katsuki exhaled the breath he didn’t know he was holding and let his head fall onto Izuku’s shoulder.
“Alright. Okay.”
The drip of their leaky faucet was the only thing that broke the tension in the beats of silence that followed.
“Kacchan, I’m…”
“Don’t. Don’t say you’re sorry.”
“No, I was going to-"
“I mean it Izuku, stop. Just…stop. Don’t say shit you don’t mean. Not when you always end back up here. And I always end up back here, doing this.”
Izuku’s voice cracked, maybe trembled, as he confessed, “I was going to say, I’m grateful. I’m just.. yeah. Don’t deserve you, so. Thank you. For being here. For helping me.”
“Again”. Katsuki rasped into the floor.
“…Again.”
Fuck it. Katsuki decidedly sat back down in front of Izuku and braced both of his hands on Izuku’s legs, meeting his eyes once again, holding a fiery gaze that showed the other whatever he said next, he meant with all his soul, and wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
“Izuku. I want you to swear to me you’ll stop fighting like this, when you have a say in it. I mean it this time. A real promise. The kind I haven’t asked from you yet, since up until now I couldn’t handle if you broke it. But I’m over this, I don’t care what the reason is. You meet a ghost from your past, you don’t trust the police, you need a stress outlet, I don’t give a shit. I really don’t.
You’re an actual moron if you can’t put two and fucking two together and realize from the countless times I’ve patched you up and stitched you back together, getting blood all over our goddamn carpet, that I love you, then you’re genuinely hopeless.
But I don’t date jocks with hero complexes and jaded pasts who swing before they think. No plan, just running on every instinct except for the one that makes you think about how coming home from campus or the police station black and blue every other week will make the people in your life feel. How it makes me feel, you fucking asshole.
So you figure out your shit and promise me, promise me you’ll stop getting into fights like this— or at the very least, wait for me to get there to provide you some actual backup— or I’m moving out. I can’t keep doing this. Won't keep watching you do this to yourself.”
While Katsuki’s voice was firm and unwavering, Izuku’s was terribly soft with disbelief in his reply, a tear or two silently rolling down his bruised cheeks from his now shimmering eyes.
“You…love me?”
He looked stunned. Like someone told him Izuku wasn’t his real name, or he was about to get his last year of college paid for free, or the leader of his ex-gang was joining the peace corp and paying off every unpaid medical bill sitting in his desk drawer.
He obviously hadn’t realized he was crying. Though, when does he ever. The irony was never lost on Katsuki that despite being constantly injured in some capacity, he never cried from pain, never, only from emotion. Intense happiness or laughter mostly, and always from something Katsuki did.
Katsuki gently thumbed the wet, dark circles under Izuku’s eyes, wiping the the tears away and leaning ever closer to his face.
“Of course I do, you idiot.” He didn’t mean to say with such tenderness.
The smile that breached Izuku’s face was more dazzling than the sun, causing the bandages on his face to crinkle and crease.
“I love you too, Kacchan.”
It was Izuku’s turn to grab Katsuki’s face— his fingers wrapping around blond spikes and pulling him into a kiss. Unabashed, wanting, soft and sure. Katsuki stilled under his hand, before promptly melting into the kiss himself, exhaling a low, happy hum.
When they finally pulled away, the crashing waves in Katsuki’s chest finally settled, replaced instead with a tender, warm glow, as Izuku stared deeply into his eyes and breathed,
“I promise”.