Warnings: Anxiety/intrusive thoughts, trauma/guilt, mild swearing (I'm not sure if major/canon character death applies here, but?)
It's one of those nights.
Izuku doesn't usually come crawling to Katsuki's room in the middle of the night unless something is wrong. And yeah, Katsuki thinks, something's definitely wrong. Izuku is lying in bed with him, Katsuki's left arm tucked under his head in a makeshift pillow as he listens to Izuku sleep soundlessly, making note of how his chest rises and falls with each breath. Katsuki would have offered the actual pillow he has, but Izuku always prefers this despite how uncomfortable it must be.
They haven't moved back home yet, none of them have. A few have gone back home to visit their families, but they always end up back here in the Heights Alliance. Maybe it's because U.A.'s been their safe space for so long, but Katsuki can't bear the thought of not waking up to Iida's reprimands or Kirishima's cooking or the sounds of the girls chattering in the dorms at night. Nor can he stand the thought of Izuku having nowhere to go on his bad nights. Katsuki doesn't want to see that distance, not yet. He's not ready. None of them are.
He can't sleep. He can never sleep when Izuku comes over like this. He never asks why anymore either, and finds that Izuku just freezes up when he's prodded until Katsuki drops the topic completely. Katsuki doesn't ask, he just does. Sometimes, he catches his boyfriend mumbling under his breath in his sleep, incoherent words and cries come pouring out until Katsuki carefully shushes him back to sleep.
They don't talk about what happened. How can they? How do you tell someone that the last memories to flash before your eyes before your heart stopped dead were of the boy you'd spent years bashing down on because of your own insecurities? (How can Izuku tell the person he loves that you saw their corpse lying dead in the field under the gaze of the greatest villain the world's ever known.)
On bad nights, Izuku places his hand over Katsuki's chest, mindful of the sensitive scarring around the area. It doesn't hurt anymore, Katsuki tells him, but Izuku is so gentle with him that he really doesn't mind the treatment. It's probably better that way. Sometimes, the boy wonders if it'll stop beating again when he's going about his day to day life; he's glad to have been placed on light duty for now. This is the the least he can offer, he has to start making up for all the bullshit Izuku's been put through. He just has to.
On this night, it's Katsuki's turn to rest his hand on Izuku's chest. Just to see what it's like. He knows it's a comfort thing. After all, if Izuku's heart had been the one to stop mid-battle, Katsuki thinks he would take every minute possible to hear the former's heartbeat. Just to confirm he's still living, that this is all still real. That they're both still breathing.
If those are the thoughts that go through Izuku's mind, then what are the thoughts that go through Katsuki's mind? He finds his head is awfully blank. He's not going through the motions in a traumatized silence, no he's fully aware of everything that happened since the war began. He's spent enough months thinking about it, talking about it, feeling it, but not with Izuku. Never with Izuku. The only indication Izuku ever lets on that he's even bothered are the nights like these, where he can do nothing but curl up in Katsuki's arms in silence. Nobody's ever wrung a single word out of him, and Sensei hovers over Izuku like a damn hawk most days. Yagi isn't any better, It's worrying, infuriating even.
The absence of Izuku's hand over his chest feels wrong. Katsuki tries to think about that instead, because getting worked up like this? It's not good for him. The pain's gone, but he's still healing. No strenuous activity or emotional outbursts for him, less he wants to give his doctor another heart attack.
Rationally, Katsuki knows Izuku is alive. Not that he wasn't always on the precipice of death, but it suddenly feels a little too real. Izuku was a hospital regular. His arms (God, his arms) were mapped out in enough scars that Katsuki knew he could barely even feel them anymore. Izuku's arms were already suffering from permanent nerve damage thanks to his previous injuries, but the amount of scarring he'd received during the war? Thinking about it makes Katsuki's chest feel heavier than it needs to be. Izuku doesn't even complain about the pain anymore, not that he ever did, but he doesn't bother rubbing his wrists or flexing his palms when no one's looking because the pain just isn't there anymore. Least, not on surface level. Internally, if Izuku still feels that steady throb in his hand, he doesn't admit it, and Katsuki knows he won't. His own damaged nerves serve either an excruciating pain, or a steady numbness if he's lucky. He can't bear the thought of seeing another scar on his skin, as if his own right arm hadn't been mauled in a heap of flesh and bone. It's a miracle he still has it.
Katsuki can't believe there was a time where he'd never really cared.
The blonde loosely tilts his head to the side to look at the side of Izuku's face, which is mostly hidden behind his dark curls. Katsuki thinks his hair looks duller but he knows the color is the same. It's not his hair, no- Izuku is just duller. Andhe doesn't know what to think about that. They haven't been together for long, only a couple weeks. The war ended months ago, but there was a lot to do before anyone in their class could even think of normal school stuff. . It's the best couple weeks of Katsuki's life.
And to think, how it could be so easily taken away. Katsuki never really thought about the statistics, the casualties and dead peers until now Both of them know that they'll be heroes until the day they die, that they'll die doing what they love, and what they love just so happens to be each other and one of the most dangerous jobs in the world.
It already killed Katsuki (He chooses not to think about that). Nearly killed Izuku, several times, and if that wasn't bad enough he'd had his arms ripped off too (Izuku doesn't talk about that either).
It's just too real. It's so damn real and he hates it,
Katsuki wants to think they'll both retire one day and live happily together on some remote island (idyllic thinking, he knows). He wants to believe they won't die on the field, but realistically, who is he kidding? Izuku will continue chasing his dream until the day his embers are just a well-spent memory. And there's a small, selfish set of words that wonders if that would be better for them both, if it would be better if Izuku lived civilian life, away from all the harm in the world where Katsuki wouldn't have to fret over seeing Izuku's corpse in the field over his own and- fuck he's gotta stop thinking that. He's got to stop letting those invasive 'what ifs' and whatnots take control.
's selfish, it's over-protective, and it's irrational. It's also completely untrue and nothing Katsuki actually believes in; he'd never do that to Izuku, not in a million years. It's a product of fear he knows that but Katsuki also knows how much harder Izuku will have to work once his embers are gone. He will never entertain those thoughts, Katsuki knows, but it doesn't make the guilt he feels for just thinking them go away. Who is he to tell Izuku what to do? After everythin he's done? Selfish, selfish Kacchan.
No matter how many times he tells himself he doesn't believe in it, Katsuki still lets the guilty eat him up from the inside. He'd never fucking take away Izuku's dream like that, so why the hell does that damn idea keep working itself into his head everytime he looks at him? It's intrusive, he knows that, Hound Dog told him so, not that it really helps. (Katsuki wonders if it's karma, but that sort of thinking is equally irrational).
Sighing softly, he slightly turned his body to face Izuku so that he's laying on his side. It feels wrong to look at him like this, it just does. He doesn't deserve this, doesn't deserve Izuku, and yet Izuku still chose him.
Shakily, he lifts his injured arm to hover above Izuku's chest. He's gotten better at moving it, but his fingers still shake, and the movement is strenuous and painful. Katsuki rests his hand over Izuku's chest the same way Izuku always does for him.
And, ah, he gets it.
Izuku's heartbeat is steady, a careful rhythm that makes all his worries fade into the recesses of his mind. His chest is warm, rising steadily before falling with soft exhales that have Katsuki subconsciously matching his own breathing with his. It reminds Katsuki of a time from his youth, where he'd scraped his knees and crawled into his mother's lap, listening to her steady heartbeat as she'd comforted him. It's a vulnerable thing, he thinks, counting Izuku's heartbeats in his head like he's counting sheep to fall back asleep. He'll do anything to keep that heart beating.
Katsuki wishes he could lean over and listen to Izuku's heart with his head on Izuku's chest, but he knows better than to wake him, though and he's suddenly struck with the thought that maybe he should let Izuku listen to his heartbeat sometime instead. There's enough comfort in the way Izuku's pulse reverberates in his hand that he can do nothing but lazily play with his boyfriend's shirt and smile softly.
Maybe there's some sort of weird psychology to it. There's just something comforting about an organ that makes thumps so hard you can feel it through someone's chest. Admittedly, the human body really is just weird like that. It's weird, humans are weird.
God, he's so small. Katsuki's only a few inches taller than him, but he just looks so small. He knows it's his emotions getting the best of him, Katsuki knows. But god, god. He just can't stand it. He knows Izuku can hold his own in battle, quirk or no quirk, he could probably take down the grandest of villains with nothing but his wits. But god damn it Katsuki knows Izuku will need so much to mimic just a fraction of the power One For All had. And Katsuki's going to find a way to fucking do it he just doesn't know how and that's the part that drives him fucking crazy.
Izuku seems resigned to his fate.
He's accepted the fact that his embers will fade, and the dream he worked so hard to achieve will end. He doesn't spare use of the embers, using One For All with restraint, yes, but on a regular enough basis their classmates have asked if he's even trying to salvage it. Izuku only ever smiles in return. Embers aren't meant to last.
Katsuki wonders if the warmth he feels in Izuku's chest is really just the remnants of One For All smoldering within him. He wonders if, one day, the warmth will fade and his chest will grow cold and Katsuki won't get to feel it anymore.
Katsuki nuzzles closer to Izuku in bed, his mind spiraling at the thought. He doesn't want to imagine a world where he's not chasing after Izuku, where they aren't fighting together instead of against each other.
He'll figure it out. He'll figure out a way for them to fight side by side, where Katsuki isn't constantly looking over his shoulder to make sure Izuku isn't lying half-dead on the field with the same eyes Izuku constantly looks at him with. Katsuki knows. All Izuku can see when he looks at Kacchan is a corpse. All Katsuki can see when he looks at Izuku is a hospital bed.
He's going to figure this out. He has to.
He just has to.
