you were alone, left out in the cold
clinging to the ruin of your broken home
too lost and hurting to carry your load
we all need someone to hold
"I don't need your fucking jacket."
Izuku pulls at the edges so he knows his jacket is snug around Katsuki. This ultimately leaves Izuku in just his sweater, but the weather isn't terribly cold. It is starting to snow rather lightly though, and it would be the second time today it's snowed. With Katsuki bleeding out and holding Izuku's scarf to his wound, the weather is nothing but a red flag, and Izuku lets his own comfort takes a backseat.
"You need to be as warm as you can get before the ambulance arrives," Izuku tells him, his attempt of trying to keep the panic from his voice only resulting in him sounding grim.
Katsuki lets his head fall back against the brick wall, looking to the sky. "I didn't fucking ask."
Izuku frowns at him, green eyes dragging up the exposed column of Katsuki's paling throat. ". . . You should ask more," Izuku says thoughtfully.
The fact that Izuku's words could've meant a couple of things makes Katsuki kiss his teeth dismissively. Only he would ever be bitter about a situation like this; only he would be annoyed of Izuku's helping hand.
Honestly, Izuku is kind of done with this kind of bullshit from Katsuki, so he goes on, "I don't care about your pride, I care about you, Kacchan." It's not as gentle as he would have said it prior to becoming much more accustomed to Katsuki's attitude without fear of being recklessly attacked. Something about this situation right now has him feeling as if a thorn bush is growing in his brain, blocking out anything even remotely alike to optimism, and that's exactly how he sounds. "You know it's not bad to just let someone be there for you once in a while, especially someone who wants to be. Kacchan, what do you think I am to you?"
"A nuisance," Katsuki deadpans, refusing to look at him, still looking at the sky.
"Yeah, of course, that's it."
Katsuki teeth grit as he meets Izuku's gaze, his back hovering off the wall as he leans forward in a threatening manner. "Well then, you get the fucking point, don't you?!"
"You don't want me here, do you?"
Izuku doesn't even paint over the hurt he's feeling—he looks Katsuki straight in the eye, a faint glare of incredulity as he assesses the blonde's reaction. There's got to be some kind of crack in his facade that Izuku can scope out, but it's not as subtle as he would've guessed. Katsuki blinks like he's blinking back tears and Izuku isn't completely sure if that's the pain of his bleeding side or from anything Izuku has said. He wants to believe it's the latter, just to remind himself that Katsuki can receive the emotions Izuku emits, but he's too stressed to believe anything right now and maybe he just wants Katsuki to know that it's his fault Izuku is feeling so weighted down right now.
Before long, the blonde let his back hit the wall once again and averts his gaze down, leaving Izuku's question to hang in the chilly clouds of their breathing. If this is his way of avoiding the question, it doesn't do Izuku any favors.
The green-haired boy stands from kneeling in front of Katsuki with a heavy sigh. He makes his way to the curb to see if there are any flashing lights down the street or even the faintest sound of a siren. He crosses his arms over his chest, realizing just how chilly it is without his jacket, but the sweater's enough. He's not about to take his jacket back, no matter how much of an asshole Katsuki is being. A thank you from the blonde would at least solidify that decision, however.
But Katsuki's not the type to thank people.
No sign of the ambulance and the streets are still ridiculously empty. Nothing but the sudden sound of pain is heard, and he turns to find the blonde midway in an attempt to stand, struggling against the wall as droplets of blood spill from beneath the other boy's jacket to stain the translucent layer of fresh new snow.
"What the—Kacchan!" He sounds like he's scolding him, which probably would've pissed Katsuki off more had it not been for the pain distracting him. Izuku reaches for him, but Katsuki falls back down as he does and Izuku drops to his knees with him, a hand slipping under the jacket to his back. He can feel blood there as well.
"I'm not dying, Deku."
Izuku sends him a look. "You are dying."
Before the blonde could even respond, Izuku makes sure Katsuki's applying enough pressure to his wound before deciding to go back and check for the ambulance again, but just as he stands, Katsuki's sweaty hand grabs his own wordlessly.
Concern threads its way back into Izuku's voice, even under all the stress. "What is it?"
"Just fucking sit down."
"I'm looking out for the ambulance—"
"It'll get here."
Izuku doesn't like the fact that Katsuki is avoiding eye contact like he always does and decides to keep pushing. ". . . Kacchan, it's been like ten minutes, man, I'm getting worried—"
"It'll fucking get here, alright?!"
He could never quite tell where exactly Katsuki's irritation stems from; what exactly makes this kid so angry all the damn time. Izuku starts to wonder if this is even anger, judging by the look in his molten lava eyes. Maybe this is what desperation looks like on Katsuki. And he's not sure where that stems from either.
Izuku sighs once again and goes to sit beside him, and Katsuki lets the boy's hand slip from his grasp, which leaves Izuku's hand surprisingly cold.
That brings Izuku's attention to Katsuki's hands, which have damaged skin framing several cuts, dirt caked under his nails. The most prominent part of the sight would be the bruises on his knuckles—the most telling evidence that he's been in a fight. In fact, Katsuki's face also falls victim to similar traits, the blue and purple shades on his cheeks bearing droplets of clear melted snow as the snowflakes disappear against his radiating skin.
He's like an otherworldly creature of some kind, a being of war and destruction. And now he's bleeding out.
"You know you're amazing, right?"
When Izuku says this, his voice breaks in the middle.
The way Katsuki's grin grows on his face looks unnatural, and it's not just the fact that his teeth are slightly bloody and wet, his bottom lip split. Izuku could imagine the pain he must feel simply doing that and Katsuki just not giving a damn about it. Izuku knows a few things about pain tolerance, but the enjoyment Katsuki feels is just another concept the green-haired boy cannot fathom. Katsuki just might be a concept Izuku cannot fathom, but he'll continue to try when he's the closest to understanding him.
"You say that kind of shit when I'm bleeding out? When your sorry ass is the one fucking helping me?"
Izuku doesn't say anything. He just takes in Katsuki's pain, because he's the only person Katsuki ever shows this side of himself to.
And it all falls apart: first Katsuki's shoulders are bouncing in wicked humour, then his chest convulses into a sob as the line of his mouth depresses.
"Fuck." The amusement drains from his voice, leaving a broken, guttural voice behind as he tugs at his own hair with his free hand. "I thought I could beat him, fucking Deku. The bastard got away. He fucking got away."
"Hey, easy, easy." Katsuki can't sit still—he starts to squirm in frustration, and Izuku becomes even more worried as the smell of blood becomes stronger, wafting from beneath the jacket. The green-haired boy wraps an arm around Katsuki's neck and pulls him towards himself, the snow in his blonde hair cold against his freckled cheek. He sets his other hand on Katsuki's shoulder to hug him even closer, trying to ease the blonde's frantic movements as he holds on tightly, firmly. "You're gonna be okay. You're fine."
Izuku continues to soothe him, mumbling into the blonde's hair, until the tension is his body melts and he sinks against the warmth Izuku offers. Katsuki clutches Izuku's arm with his free hand, and they just might be as close as they could possibly get. Maybe this is his way of saying things he doesn't want to say, like thank you or sorry.
Maybe this is his way of saying stay.
hear you, falling and lonely, cry out:
will you fix me up? Will you show me hope?
at the end of the day you were helpless
can you keep me close? Can you love me most?
.
.
.
listening to ; someone to stay ; vancouver sleep clinic