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The skies outside the hospital window are a clear, gorgeous blue, horizon stretching for miles and miles— neither a hint of cloud nor enough skyrises to block his view. If he got up, he thinks, he could probably see the rubble and heroes and volunteers crawling like ants trying to clear it. Good thing he doesn’t have the energy for all that. Still, Katsuki’s been looking out the window for hours, because it sure beats the alternative.
“How many of us do you think are left?”
His eye twitches. Katsuki might’ve been forced, by humiliation after humiliation, to learn some patience and humility, but Todoroki Shoto’s blank face staring at him has his heartrate threatening to rise over the medically-cleared 110 bpm max. Sure, hospital rooms were in high demand, but there was no one else? No one?
“Don’t talk to me.”
Todoroki hums noncommittally, way past being threatened by Katsuki’s snarling and unfortunately in possession of a firm belief that they’re friends. They’re not, though. Katsuki might be convinced to save his life on occasion, but that was different.
“Midoriya.” Katsuki’s head swivels to the door, thinking the bastard was addressing someone, but it’s empty. IcyHot has one hand up, counting, and the other holding a box of orange juice, that he pauses to slurp obnoxiously from before continuing. “Uraraka. All Might. You. Me.”
He runs out of fingers on one hand and looks briefly confused about what to do next, like putting down his damn juice is out of the question.
“Shoji.” Katsuki bites out grudgingly, and then immediately regrets it when he gets a grateful nod in response. Ugh.
“How is he?”
Katsuki knows that he isn’t talking about Shoji, and his knowing only serves to piss him off further. Of everyone, this Halfie moron seemed least worried about pointing out the obvious about Katsuki’s relationship with everyone’s favorite self-sacrificing lunatic. His anger is old and familiar, a remnant from a person he was trying not to be anymore, a personality that had him laid cold on the ground, ugly bleeding heart open for the world to see. Maybe he’s lost it, but he can feel it twist in his chest with the desire to release his fears.
“Said he’s fine. Talked my fuckin’ head off when I saw him, so he can’t be doing too bad.” Katsuki pauses, trying to steady his voice. A futile effort, he already knows. “But— I dunno.” Anger and something worse crawls up his throat. “He always says he’s fine.”
Todoroki, the bastard, nods like gets it. He fixes Katsuki with a calculating stare, and Katsuki fights to keep his face blank under his serious gaze. He has the bizarre urge to keep talking, to say something like it’s gone. He doesn’t know if he means his career or his embers or his only fucking dream in the world. He tamps it all down because he still isn’t sure if the grief is for his dream or for Deku’s, and the one thing he’s not gonna do right now is make this all about himself.
“Thank you for telling me,” says Todoroki, sounding genuine, and Katsuki relaxes. Relieved the conversation has been ended by someone else’s choice, and that his hospital roommate is done trying to wring some honesty out of him.
Then the asshole takes another long, loud slurp of his juice. Oh, what Katsuki would give for two unbandaged hands to strangle him with.
“I hope Uraraka wakes up soon.” The voice breaks the silence, and Katsuki turns to see Todoroki staring out the window, brow now a little furrowed.
Round Face? Apologies for his pity party, but he was sure he’d been the last to wake up, hole in the chest and all. He’d stomped and bullied, trying to get someone to show him the battle footage, and when that failed, guilt tripped like his life depended on it, and finally, his dad had caved and handed him a phone. He skimmed it, fast-forwarding his own— he didn’t need to see all that, he was there— and thought he had a pretty good sense of everyone’s state. There’s a ghost of guilt, as he realizes that he didn’t even notice that Uraraka was a glaring blank.
Aizawa-sensei had been in and out, limp pronounced and eyebags worse than ever, updating them on the discharges from their class. Kirishima and Ashido had been the most recent, covered in bandages but in good spirits. They’d been walking, arm in arm— question for another day—past his hospital room when Katsuki clocked the acid burn damage all around her hands and up her forearms. His hoarse comment about the scars lookin’ sick almost reduced Shitty Hair to tears, not like they were his anyway, but Ashido only grinned and slugged him (gently, gently) in the shoulder.
Now that he thinks of it, Sensei didn’t say shit about Cheeks— not like Katsuki bothered to ask. The ghost of guilt is kinda materializing now. Possessing a physical body. Whatever.
“What’s wrong with her?” He goes for casual and even kinda succeeds.
Todoroki only looks amused, and sees right through him. This is why they can’t be friends. “I thought you didn’t want me to talk to you?”
Fuck this. “Fuck you,” says Katsuki calmly, swinging his feet off the bed and ignoring the sparks of pain in his—well, everywhere. He takes some satisfaction at Todoroki’s mildly alarmed face before he stomps out of the room.
Deku’s room is next door, which might as well be five kilometers for Katsuki’s battered body. His calves cramped with the effort and his lungs burned. The old hag had threatened to kill him herself if he tried to walk there again, but she was all bark. He’d know.
He pauses before he opens the door to catch his breath because he’d actually rather transfer schools than embarrass himself twice in two days in front of his childhood idol.
“Izuku,” he growls, slamming the door open. And then he stops. All Might is gone. In his place is, lo and behold, Round Cheeks. Awake.
“Kacchan!” Izuku is beaming, because of course he is, looking delighted and completely unsurprised to see Katsuki glowering in the doorway and gripping his IV stand like a cane. “How are you!”
Katsuki takes in the bandages wrapped around his head, idiotic curls fucked up from sweat and grime, and his dark circles so visible against the white fabric wrapping his face. There’s a wrinkled All Might comic in his lap that he was clearly just reading, and Katsuki doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at how much of a loser he is. The less honorable part of him wants to put Izuku in a headlock until he cries.
He feels, abruptly, very tired from the walk over. “Move over,” says Katsuki brusquely, approaching his bed.
Izuku blinks— once, twice— big eyes round with confusion because he’s always been a little slow on the uptake. And then, seeming to understand, he dutifully shifts over to make space for Katsuki, who shuffles over and sits heavily on the bed. His heart is going haywire in his chest, although no beeping yet, thank fuck, and he doesn’t even know if it’s the smile in Izuku’s eyes as he shifts over or the exertion. Both answers enrage him the same amount, but he doesn’t actually have the energy to be mad right now.
He moves around until he’s comfortable. And if that means he’s pressed thigh to thigh with his childhood best friend and can feel his hair tickling his eyebrow, that’s really no one’s business. Deku, for his part, doesn’t react at all except to lean his head closer to Katsuki’s shoulder. That’s no one’s business either. Least of all Katsuki’s.
Throughout all this, Round Face has not said a word. She’s been staring out the window, uncharacteristically expressionless. Katsuki jerks his head towards her as if to ask what the fuck? and Izuku shrugs, helpless. His miserable little face is making Katsuki’s stomach hurt. Ugh. He has to do everything around here.
“Oi,” he says. No reply, not even a twitch.
Well, no one has ever accused Katsuki of being gentle. He pulls Izuku’s pillow out from under him, ignoring his squawk of protest and launches it at Uraraka. It hits her right in the side of the head (he’s not gonna fucking miss) and she twists her head around to look at him.
Katsuki doesn’t wince, never, ever, on principle, but her dull gaze kinda makes him want to. She’s pale, a little worse for wear like the rest of them—Izuku looks like shit, hell, Katsuki knows even he looks like shit, but there’s something wrong with Round Face.
“Cheeks,” he says, voice hard but cautious.
“Bakugou-kun!” Uraraka smiles, like she knows this is the right way to behave, and it’s bizarre, it doesn’t reach her eyes at all. He feels Deku grimace beside him.
“You two fuckers just going to keep saying my name, or what?”
“How are you?” she asks politely, ignoring his comment entirely.
“Fucking stellar,” he mutters, gesturing to show his destroyed arm and his bandaged face and the IV sticking out of him. “You’re last, by the way.”
Izuku laughs nervously, and begins to say his name, but Uraraka cuts him off. Her head tilts, confused. “Last?”
“To wake up,” he clarifies, “It’s just us and shitty Half n Half in here.”
“So mean, Kacchan,” Deku mumbles, and this time both of them ignore him. Katsuki expects Uraraka to say more, but she doesn’t, turning away like the conversation is over and he finds resigned to it. He’s not Izuku, he’s not gonna force her to confront something she doesn’t wanna, that she’s not ready for. Izuku’s an endless well of empathy and compassion and patience, be it his best friends or the worse asshole villains in the world, but Katsuki’s only got that type of energy for one person, and it’s for the best because the little asshole loves to wring him dry.
“Show me that,” he says to Deku, gesturing at the comic. Deku keeps darting anxious glances at Uraraka but seems to realize it’s ultimately futile and opens the comic so they can both read it. He begins his stream of consciousness chatter about every plot point that doesn’t make sense and his bizarre Quirk analysis that always makes more sense than it should. Katsuki finds himself lulled by the nonsense. It feels like when they were kids, sharing a bed in the summers, freaking out about new All Might comics releases before Katsuki got his Quirk.
He doesn’t know he’s fallen asleep until he hears a commotion in the hallway— a mix of familiar shouting and a tired voice he’s also definitely heard before. He opens his eyes to his mother storming through the door, followed by his tired father and even tired-er Aizawa sensei.
“You shitty brat,” she hisses, “Why aren’t you in your room?”
Masaru is trying to calm his wife down while Aizawa takes in the scene in front of him with a sort of resigned acceptance. Katsuki’s brain starts to come online, clocking how dry his mouth his, the ache in his neck, the open comic in front of him and then, finally, he remembers that he’s sharing a bed with Deku.
Deku, whose head is now firmly on Katsuki’s shoulder and whose hand is curled into the side of Katsuki’s hospital down, snoring softly and miraculously still asleep. Katsuki lifts his head from where it was resting on Deku’s head, looks at his parents and teacher, and does not flush.
He doesn’t.
Aizawa presses his lips into a line, and Katsuki is prepared for a it’s always you two but then, he just keeps staring at them. Inexplicably, he softens and sighs. He searches Katsuki’s eyes for something and Katsuki glares at him. Whatever he finds must drive him off the edge of his crumbling sanity, because then he says:
“I’m going to tell the nurse to move your bed in here.”
He walks out the door as Katsuki is gaping at him, and his father, finally having successfully placated Mistuki, pulls up two chairs to the bed to sit next to Katsuki.
“Please,” he starts. He falters, looking to his wife for support, but she’s still scowling at Katsuki. “Katsuki. We— Please. Don’t disappear like that.”
“Haaah?!” Katsuki is mindful of the sleeping boy next to him, and Uraraka a bed over, but cannot prevent the indignant noise that escapes him at his father’s accusation.
“I didn’t fucking disappear,” he whispers furiously, “I’m one room over. What? Half and Half didn’t tell you?”
His father frowns. “Todoroki-kun was discharged this afternoon.”
“Oh,” says Katsuki, intelligently.
“And don’t talk about your friends like that, you brat,” adds his mother.
Katsuki opens his mouth to object that they are not friends, but the words never make it out of his mouth because his mother is—his mother is crying. Still scowling and looking furious, but there’s no mistaking the wetness in her eyes.
Masaru sighs. “Mitsuki, please sit.”
She does, and Katsuki has no idea what’s happening. He tries to wrack his stupid brain to remember if he’s ever, ever seen her cry before, and comes up empty. Not even when he opened his eyes and thought he was dead did he see a single tear in her eye. And now? When he’s fine?
Masaru reaches out and puts his hand on top of Katsuki’s bandaged one.
“We were watching,” he starts again. Watching— what? He’s still trying to understand what in the fuck is going on with his mother as his father keeps pouring gasoline in the fire. “When you got up—after. When you stood up again.”
Katsuki’s brain has gone entirely silent. He knows. Of course he knows. He knew the whole time that the business course students were live streaming it. He had watched some of the footage. He assumed, even, that his parents had known what had happened, had been told. The doctor didn’t pull any punches in explaining what it meant that he’d been impaled in the chest, how close it had been, how Edge Shot and Best Jeanist could’ve made one wrong move, and it would have been over. How even then, they had no idea how Katsuki had managed to jump start his own heart and fight, after all that. Katsuki knows, but what can he tell a medical professional about debts owed and hands outstretched?
But he didn’t think about his parents watching, not while it happened. He didn’t think about it then, and he didn’t think about it now. He just remembers getting up, body screaming, nerves on fire, bones broken, knowing it was time. He didn’t even know what to do next, but he’d made eye contact with Deku, grappling with Shigaraki in a whirlpool of ozone and lightning, and he’d moved.
Roles reversed— Deku would win to save, and Katsuki would save All Might’s broken body from All for One and then kick his ass, too. He’d known, somehow, that he was going to win, with more certainty than he’d ever felt in any battle, ever. There was something freeing about knowing there was no other choice.
His mother isn’t saying anything, lips pressed together, and it’s so surreal that she’s become the quiet one as Masaru continues, resolutely: “I was so relieved that you stood up. We—we didn’t know. What had happened to you. And when you stood up, I thought, he’s alive.” His father’s voice shakes. “But then I realized you were going to keep fighting. And then I looked away. I couldn’t watch.”
Masaru’s voice shakes, but he keeps going, determined, and Katsuki thinks maybe he did get some of his personality from his father.
“I knew you were going to go after him. All for One. I was only relieved for one second, before I realized what you were going to do. Your mother made me look. I didn’t want to. But I realized—I realized I have to be brave. My son is a hero. So I have to be brave too.”
“Masaru—”
“No, Mitsuki, it’s okay.” His father squeezes his hand and looks at him. In the dim evening light, Katsuki sees his worry, his fear, and the determination in his eyes.
“Katsuki. We’re so proud of you. But we’re scared. Please. Just. Don’t disappear.”
Katsuki doesn’t know what to do with the weight on his chest or the burning behind his eyes. This isn’t how they talk to each other. He’s about to say something moronic like I’ll text you next time when Deku stirs next to him.
“Don’t worry,” says Deku quietly, startling all three of them. Katsuki glances down and Deku is staring at his parents gravely. “Don’t worry,” he repeats.
“I won’t let that happen again,” he says seriously, like he’s making a promise. He hasn’t raised his voice at all, but he doesn’t have to. He’s gripping Katsuki’s hospital gown a little tighter.
Mitsuki stares at Izuku, maybe the same way he is. Katsuki wonders if she sees the same little boy he does—weak, always crying, trailing after Katsuki—or if she sees the hero livestreamed into every evacuation shelter in Japan.
He wonders if she sees both. Maybe, unlike him, she’s always been able to see both. The little snot-nosed kid who always gets back up and has never left Katsuki behind. She must, because Mitsuki suddenly smiles.
“Go back to sleep, kid,” she says, standing up and ruffling both their hair. Katsuki grumbles and bats off her hand. Masaru stands too, and Katsuki grabs his hand with his uninjured one. They look at each other, and Katsuki wants to say the right thing, like Deku always does, but he can’t.
His father seems to understand, squeezing back. His parents bid them both goodnight and leave, promising to return tomorrow morning with Auntie Inko in tow. Their departure leaves the room too quiet, with Katsuki now extremely aware of Deku’s presence. Neither of them bother to move away from each other, even though Katsuki knows he can’t blame exhaustion for their proximity anymore.
They’re both quiet for so long that Katsuki is sure Izuku has fallen back asleep. But because Izuku never shuts up when Katsuki wants him to, he speaks again:
“I’m sorry.”
Jesus Christ.
“What the fuck are you apologizing for now, dumbass?”
Izuku’s head hasn’t moved from his shoulder, and Katsuki can’t really see his face. Maybe that makes it easier to have this conversation. He’s sure, anyway, that Izuku hears what he’s trying to say. It’s not your fault.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
“I don’t need you to take care of me, asshole.”
Izuku sighs through his nose and doesn’t reply for a second. His cheek has some dried drool on it and Katsuki fights the urge to wipe it off. Then he shuffles a little closer to Katsuki, pressing his face into his neck.
Katsuki prays for patience from whatever entity is listening as Izuku’s cold ass nose pokes his neck. He’s not granted any, so he pushes Izuku off him, ignoring his offended face.
“You.” he says, jabbing his forehead with his finger.
“Me?” says Izuku, like an idiot.
“You are so fucking stupid,” bites out Katsuki.
Izuku smiles up at him, but it wavers. His eyes are doing the thing that Katsuki has seen them do a million times—the thing that Katsuki, frankly, does not fucking care for at all.
“Do not cry, Izuku, I swear to god.”
“Okay,” agrees Deku, starting to cry. He hides his face in his hands as though Katsuki doesn’t have object permanence and will forget he’s crying if he can’t see his face.
Oh my god. Katsuki successfully battles the urge to strangle him and takes a deep breath.
“Izuku,” he says, sighing. “It’s okay.” Katsuki grips him by the nape of his neck and jostles him a little, hoping the roughness will remind him that they’re both alive.
The weird thing about Izuku, thinks Katsuki, or one of the many weird things, is how he tries to look happy when he’s crying. His lips are trembling as he wipes at his face but he looks up at Katsuki like he can’t believe he’s real.
“I’m just,” he says, all warbly and snotty, “really happy you’re here. I couldn’t save Tenko. That’s my burden to bear. And I can bear it. But—”
“It’s not your burden, you complete moron,” snarls Katsuki, punching him in the shoulder. Izuku winces. “Do you think you’re special? Do you think you’re fucking better than everyone? I was there. We were all there. I had my hand on your back, Deku. It’s our burden.”
“Okay,” says Izuku, hiccupping pathetically, “But I don’t think—I mean—You can’t die.”
Katsuki sighs. He grabs Deku by the shoulder and starts pushing him down, muttering a shut up to his Kacchan wha— until they’re properly horizontal and Katsuki’s neck doesn’t feel like it’s going to snap in half. Their knees are knocking together, and Katsuki puts Deku’s hand on his neck. On his pulse.
“I’m fine, okay?” he says harshly, “I’m alive. We’re both alive.”
Deku shakes his head so frantically Katsuki is afraid it’ll fall off. His face is still wet, but he has a glint in his eye that Katsuki’s only become familiar with recently—the one that means he’s going to argue, and he means to win. “You weren’t. I saw you, Kacchan. I saw you. You weren’t.”
And what can he say to that? First his parents, no Izuku. He’s the only one who didn’t have to see his lifeless body on the ground. He didn’t miss Kaminari’s wobbling smile when he saw him yesterday, or even Aizawa-sensei’s relief. He didn’t see Izuku arrive at the Coffin in the Sky, only to realize he was too late, only to see Katsuki cold on the ground. But Izuku’s an idiot if he doesn’t think Katsuki knows how it feels, as if Katsuki is the one always on the ground with broken bones and a split lip. Oh, to make this idiot realize Katsuki knew exactly what he was doing, when he took the hit. The scars painting his side, the pacemaker in his chest, the feeling in his lungs that he’ll never get enough air when he sees Izuku somewhere he can’t reach.
“D—Izuku.” Fuck it. Katsuki brings up a hand to grip his face, and Izuku is so startled at the warmth that he stops crying. Quick, now, on the uptake, he calms a little and leans into Katsuki’s hand, who tries very, very hard not to overthink this. He grits his teeth and tries to be a better person, tries to accept that this feeling in his chest is worry and it’s not gonna go away unless Izuku gets on the same page. “We’re going to get stronger, right? You have my back. I have your back. It won’t happen again.”
Deku looks at him, eyes wet but not actively sobbing anymore, and doesn’t say anything.
“Don’t fucking apologize about this again,” says Katsuki.
“Kay,” he says, calming down now, finally, “Is this okay?”
Katsuki has no idea what this is but he really cannot bring himself to care right now. It could be Izuku snuffling into his neck or his hand on his pulse or their legs being interlocked or something else his big brain has imagined that he feels the need to ask about.
“Yes, Deku, if you don’t go to sleep in the next minute I’m going to knock you out.”
Deku huffs a little laugh and stares at his face a moment longer. Katsuki fights the urge to fidget under his gaze, trying not to think about how Izuku is studying him like he’s not sure he’ll ever get the chance to again. He succeeds until Deku’s eyes close, and hopes to God that Uraraka hasn’t been eavesdropping on whatever the fuck just happened—there was no need for anyone to witness him deal with everyone in his life crying over him in the same day.
Someone still needed to do something about her, but that could wait till tomorrow.
The next day, she’s silent again, even in the face of Izuku’s nervous glances and nonstop chatter. And look, when he said “someone,” he meant it. Like— someone fucking else. But his life was a joke. Maybe it was karma for all the times he’s run his mouth about being the best.
Katsuki is back in his own bed, which is one hundred percent a huge upgrade from sharing with Deku and something he feels totally normal about. The nurses brought it in at the same time his mother walked in, and so Katsuki was made to move under all three of their watchful eyes. As a reward, he gets a bunch of his old comics deposited on the table. He grumbled and complained about not being a kid anymore, while Auntie Inko and Izuku just bawled all over each other, but he did start flipping through them as soon as everyone left.
He’s reading volume #7 of the All Might: Silver Edition series—the line with the least plot holes, according to one nerd—when Round Face clears her throat. Pointedly. Deku is gone for the physical therapists to take a look at him, because of course he was, and Katsuki wonders vaguely whether he can pretend he hasn’t heard her. Just until Deku comes back.
“Bakugou-kun,” she says quietly.
Katsuki closes his eyes and groans internally. “What.”
She ignores his blatant rudeness, just like Todoroki had yesterday. Apparently, no one is scared of him anymore. All he needs is one sparring match to remind them, not that anyone’s gonna allow him that pleasure.
“Do you think I’m weak?”
Her lips are pressed into a thin line and her eyes are, like, huge. She’s obviously trying to keep it together enough to have a conversation and resembles a frog—just like Izuku when he’s trying not to cry. Figures.
That is not a thought process he can entertain for long. Even through his irritation, he’s perfectly aware why Uraraka would choose him, out of all the people in the world, to ask this question. Why she would wait till Izuku is out of the room. He’s a bit of a dick, but at least you can count on him to be honest.
He breathes through his nose and remembers how much his hand hurt after their math during the Sports Festival. “No.”
She nods, taking his answer seriously, but not looking totally like she believes him. Her hands have a vice grip on the white hospital sheets, and she’s still paler than she has any right to be. He’s not gonna ask what happened to her. But he knows what the groups were. He knows she was on an island with Toga Himiko, and he knows that Toga Himiko is dead. He’s not like them— he can’t find it in himself to regret their deaths. They made their choices, as unfair as the world was to them. Like it’s been fair to Izuku, taking and taking and taking. But he knows Uraraka would never stop trying to save everyone. And he’s grateful, isn’t he? That she tries with Deku, too? He might have brought Izuku back, but she was the one who convinced the crowds to let him back in.
Katsuki thinks of Izuku’s worn face telling him “it’s okay,” as he blubbered about him losing OFA, and thinks, well, it might take all of them, together. Maybe that’s what makes him speak.
“You stupid nerds and your martyr complexes. Fucking exhausting,” he gripes, startling her. She obviously thought the “no” was all she could expect. “It wasn’t just you. Wasn’t frog face with you?”
She frowns. “Tsu-chan—”
“Is she weak?”
Round Face’s cheeks start to turn red, seemingly with frustration rather than embarrassment. She frowns so hard it looks like it hurts her face. Katsuki almost wants to laugh. She and Izuku were so bad at being angry. It just looked wrong on them.
She looks at him a little longer, maybe to gauge how serious he’s being, and then deflates.
“I’ll get stronger too,” she murmurs.
Now Katsuki lets himself laugh, lets it be a little low and mocking. “Real convincing.”
“I have to,” she says, firmer. And then, with something barely like amusement in her eyes, she continues: “I’ll beat you next time. At the Sports Festival.”
Katsuki snorts, a little pleased despite himself. This won’t fix anything, but it’s nice to think about a Sports Festival, after everything. “In your dreams, Angel Face.”
When Izuku comes back, Uraraka asks him what the physical therapists said, and he’s so delighted and surprised that he stumbles over his answer four different times. Katsuki almost fails to decipher that Deku will only be allowed to exercise his lower body for weeks. Almost. But he deciphers it. Processes it. Gets super mad. Fuuuuuck his stupid life.
Later, Izuku will raise his eyebrows questioningly at Katsuki, while Uraraka isn’t looking. Katsuki will shrug and act like Izuku is crazy for expecting him to know anything about his shitty friends. Izuku will mouth thank you, anyway, because apparently everyone can read him like an open book these days. Katsuki will bark shut the fuck up so loudly that Izuku and Uraraka will jump and Uraraka will look at him like he’s absolutely lost his mind, and she won’t be wrong.