𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖗miller @sourmiller - Tumblr Blog

sourmiller

May 5, 2021

izukxnnie

A WORLD ALONE

pairing: bakugo katsuki x fem! reader

playlist: i was an island john-allison weiss, little lion man mumford & sons, buzzcut season lorde, a world alone lorde

wc: 6.8k of pain

content: she/her pronouns, cursing, food mention, crying, discussion of bullying, ptsd, katsuki being a tiny bit possessive, spoilers for the fic in cw beyond this point -> morbidity, discussion of death, basically terminal illness, hospitals, ivs and injections, comas

desc: reader and bakugo are doing the whole childhood friends to lovers thing, deku is briefly a little shit, and angst happens, bakugo has awful coping mechanisms. literal years of slow burn. years.

notes: came up with this while running up a hill, wrote it in one day and cried three times during. this is literally made of sweat and tears, but no blood, fortunately. ok have fun i'm gonna go cry again-

“come down! you drew on my face! i’m going to get you!”

you pick a leaf and drop it above katsu-chan; it lands on his head, “well, you shouldn’t have gone to sleep, then. if you hadn’t, i wouldn’t draw on you.”

katsu-chan fumes and kicks at the roots that break through the dirt. “i didn’t. i didn’t go to sleep. liar.”

izu-chan shifts nervously on the branch next to you - you just ruffle his hair, and he calms down a bit. he starts to tip backwards, and you reach to catch him, and you both are falling through the air. it makes your stomach flip and knocks the air out of you when you land on the ground - your head hurts from hitting the packed dirt.

“you idiot, izuku! you can’t sleep in a tree…” katsu-chan pokes his cheek, in a meaner way then he needed to. izu-chan doesn’t wake up.

izu-chan fell out of the tree, and he isn’t waking up.

you sit up and climb to your feet, sprinting for the house. “auntie mitsuki! auntie mitsuki!”

she yanks the back door open, running out at the sound of your screaming. “what’s the problem, [first name]-chan? what happened?”

you sniffle and grab her hand, leading her over to your friends; your eyes are full of tears and you can’t see anything besides two vague blobs on the ground with different hair colors. “izu-chan fell out of the tree, we were playing, i drew on katsu-chan’s face,” you sob, pointing in the direction of the two blobs.

auntie mitsuki chuckles and sits on the ground next to your friends. “i think he’s fine, [first name]-chan.”

“but he wasn’t awake, he went asleep and he fell out of the tree,” you protest, furiously wiping your eyes, still holding her hand.

“yes, but he’s fine - see? he’s awake, he’s even sitting up, and the fall was only a few feet. you’re not hurt, right sweetie? any cuts that need a bandaid?”

izu-chan, clearer now, shakes his head. “i’m sleepy, though.”

auntie mistuki stops and makes the face she makes before she yells a lot. “you’re sleepy?”

“is that okay?”

“of course, sweetie. here, come with me, i’m going to have your mom pick you up, okay? i’ll have your mom come too, [first name]-chan. let’s all go inside.” she stands up and takes your and izu-chan’s hands, and leads you toward the house. katsu-chan grabs your hand and follows along.

—

izu-chan hands the gang orca plush to you, and one of his all might ones to bakugo. “my mom said that the doctor said that it was a quirk.”

katsu-chan hugs the plush so tightly that it probably wouldn’t be able to breathe. “what was a quirk, dummy?”

“when i fell out of the tree. mom was worried i hit my brain, but it was just a quirk that made me sleepy!”

katsu-chan huffs, “well it’s not my quirk, that’s too lame to be my quirk.”

your mom had taken you to the hospital to be examined, and katsu-chan’s comment kind of hurts, but you wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret anyway. “it’s mine, but yeah, i can only make people go to sleep if i touch them. it’s not very cool.”

he rolls his eyes and shoves the all might plush at you. “well… if it’s yours i guess it’s cool.”

izu-chan smiles and throws his arms out, “yeah! then you can just make all the villains go to sleep and no one would have to fight!”

that makes a laugh bubble up in your chest, and another one at your next thought. “i got my quirk first. before katsu-chan.”

he shoves you in response, and izu-chan scrambles to his feet to run before katsu-chan can get to him, yelling, “kacchan! i didn’t even say it!”

“but you laughed, idiot!”

—

it’s quiet, without izu-chan there; katsu-chan had stopped inviting him to sleepovers a few months ago. it’s also only just after dinner, but you’re so tired, yawning through the movie you’re watching with auntie mitsuki and uncle masaru. you slump against katsu-chan, who huffs - he’s always doing that - but doesn’t move.

the credits roll and uncle masaru turns the tv off as auntie mitsuki picks you up. your head lolls against her shoulder and you’re vaguely aware of katsu-chan grabbing her other hand and looking up at you. “how come [first name] gets to be carried, mom?”

auntie mitsuki shifts her grip on you as she carries you toward katsu-chan’s room. “because i can’t carry you both, kiddo, and she’s sleepier than you. besides, you gotta let other people have a turn, right? being a hero is also about being fair.”

katsu-chan frowns but doesn’t say anything else.

aunty mitsuki sets you down on katsu-chan’s bed, and after he climbs in, she tucks both of you in, kisses you on the forehead, and turns off the light. you sink into the blankets, eyes slipping closed.

“are you awake?” katsu-chan whispers.

“yeah,” you sigh, quite content to go to sleep. “why?”

he grabs your hand and sits up. “sleeping is boring and stupid. wanna read some all might comics?”

you yawn, “mmkay. but we gotta be quiet, otherwise your mom will come in and make us go to sleep.”

“of course, dummy.” he crawls to the edge of the bed and swipes a flashlight off the table, along with the comic at the top of the stack.

you sit up, rubbing your eyes, and he sits next to you, pulling the blanket with him so you can both hide under it. “this way, she won’t know we’re awake.” he flicks the flashlight on.

katsu-chan reads the comic to you, slow and stilting, but you can’t read anyway, so it’s still impressive. you don’t even notice you’re falling asleep until you blink awake, head resting on katsu-chan’s shoulder. he turns the page.

“katsu-chan,” you hiss, lifting your head back up.

“huh?” he glances up at you from the comic.

“can we go to bed? my eyes hurt.” they sting, and your limbs feel really heavy.

he turns off the flashlight and puts it and the comic back on the nightstand, after struggling to get the blanket off of his head. you lay down and he pulls the blanket over both of you. you stare at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling.

“thanks.”

“don’t thank me, stupid.”

—

the first time it happens, you’re playing heroes. mom is hiding under a blanket fort on the floor as you two burst into the room, capes (towels) tied around your shoulders. “save me!” she calls, voice tipping up with laughter.

“the heroes are here! we’re gonna save you!” katsuki crows, rushing forward. he hears a thump behind him and turns around, ready to get out of the way (catch you) if you’ve tripped. you’re completely limp and already on the ground, arms and legs sprawled out, face down.

katsuki sighs. “did you trip on your cape? now we’re gonna have to go back out and come back again!”

no response.

mom kneels next to you, shaking your shoulder. “[first name], are you hurt? what’s wrong?” you don’t move, and mom picks you up and lays you on the couch. she presses her hand to your neck and relaxes after a few seconds.

“katsuki, you stay right here, watch [first name]. come get me if anything happens. i’m going to go get my phone and call her mom and the doctor.”

she rushes out of the room, and katsuki looks over at your still form. he sits down next to the couch. “what did you do this time, stupid? hah? did you hit your head? why are you asleep?”

normally he’d jab your arm or shove you and tell you to get up, but something feels wrong. mom is worried, and she never gets worried; katsuki is strong enough that she doesn’t have to. he thought you were strong too.

mom rushes back into the room, phone in hand. “okay, seki, i’ll call the hospital. i thought it might be a side effect of her quirk, but if the doctor didn’t say anything about it at the time, i don’t know what to do. i’ll call you as soon as we get there. call me if you think of anything else.”

she hangs up and turns to katsuki. “go grab your backpack, okay, brat? and bring some comics or a coloring book. it might be a while. then come meet me back here.”

katsuki nods and runs for his room. he packs some all might comics, and that gang orca one that [first name] really likes, for whatever dumb reason. and her favorite colored pencils, and the coloring book she brought. he meets mom in the living room, but [first name] isn’t there.

he opens his mouth to ask, but mom beats him to it (he needs to get faster). “she’s in the car. we gotta go, brat.”

they wait in the hospital while the doctors look at [first name], and katsuki doesn’t feel like reading his comics. he tries reading the gang orca one, but it makes him sad for some reason, so he puts it back in his bag and waits with his mom, kicking his legs as he sits on the chair.

“i wanna go see her.”

“sorry, brat, but we have to wait.” she smiles at him and pets his hair, but it’s not the same as usual.

both of them jerk up at the sound of rapidly clicking heels. auntie seki rushes down the hall and past them, throwing a quick “thank you” to mom, and into the hospital room where [first name] is.

katsuki keeps kicking his legs as they wait. it feels like forever, and the hallway is boring - there’s nothing to do.

auntie seki comes back out of the room, crying, hand clapped over her mouth, and katsuki wishes the hallway had stayed boring. she sits down hard in the chair next to mom. “they said she’s reached quirk singularity.”

katsuki pulls a comic out of his backpack and flips through it so he can pretend he’s not listening.

“her quirk is slowly putting her to sleep. she won’t be able to stay awake, it’s like some awful form of narcolepsy, mitsuki. one day she’s just not going to wake up.” auntie seki curls in on herself, sobbing as mom hugs her.

the comic explodes in katsuki’s hands.

katsuki shoves deku harder in the hallways, yells at him louder, makes the explosions in his hands bigger and brighter. you’re not at school anymore, not since you kept falling asleep during the sixth grade and subsequently broke your arm as you fell down the stairs. the extras follow him around, but school is so boring without you, and working with people other than his best friend on projects is annoying as fuck.

still, he can at least hangout with you after school, even if he has to be bored all day. even if some days he just sits in your room for hours, working on homework while you sleep. he knocks on the door to your house, just like he does every day, and auntie seki answers.

“come in, katsuki! [first name] is upstairs.”

he takes his shoes off in the genkan, out of respect for auntie seki and you, and because getting dirt on the floor is pointless. “thanks, auntie seki.”

she just waves at him and goes back to her laptop.

he trudges down the hallway, careful not to hit any of the pictures with his backpack, and sticks his head through the partially open door at the end. “sleepyhead? you awake?”

you smile at him from your floor, where you’re sitting against your bed, working on some assignment. “yup, i’m awake! it’s broad daylight, ya know, and i’ve got homework. i can’t afford to be sleeping.”

you’re awake, and you haven’t been much, lately. something tight in his chest loosens a little bit.

“good, because i brought the math homework, and you better have looked at the slides from today’s lesson.” he swings his backpack off and plops down on the floor across from you. (your head on his shoulder isn’t something he wants, not anymore, not after that day).

you put your assignment down, sprawling your legs out across the floor. “you want to study? really? there’s much better things to do, like going to see that new hero exhibit at the museum.”

“we have to study, the UA entrance exam is in two weeks, stupid.” katsuki rolls his eyes and rifles through his math folder so he can give you this week’s problems.

“oh, come on. you’re going to be fine, and i’m not taking it anyways, so let’s just go.” you kick at his leg lightly.

he has to take a deep breath when you say you’re not taking the exam. it’s stupid, he knows you’re not taking it, he knows why - falling asleep during the practical exam could easily get you killed, let alone in the middle of a battle as a pro-hero - but it still feels like he’s just stepped off a ledge and there’s nothing but air underneath him. you were supposed to do this together, and it’s fucking not right that you aren’t coming with him.

katsuki looks up at you, at the bright, hopeful expression on your face, at your stupid, red-rimmed eyes and shitty eyebags the size of jupiter and the way your frame droops, exhausted. he looks at you and thinks about how you look when you’re asleep, and how much he hates it, how dead and silent and cold you look. he looks at you and thinks of the hospital bed with your name on it. he looks at you and thinks she’s awake, and what if that never happens again.

“fine, let’s go.”

—

the museum is interesting, there’s an exhibit on gang orca, and he knows that’s the real reason you wanted to go - he’s always been your favorite. there isn’t one on all might, but that’s fine, because by the time you get through the gang orca one, you’re stumbling on your feet and blinking slowly. he tries not to think about the fact that you probably came here with deku on the weekend - you still talk to that nerd, and he has no idea why.

katsuki just grabs your hand and leads you home.

you’re stopped at a crosswalk, watching the cars rush by, when you feel your eyes start to shut, and the world around you start to blur. “kashki…” you slur, and the only thing that stops you from falling, limp, into oncoming traffic, is how quickly he pulls you close to him.

his heart races, banging against his ribs, panicked and lashing out, and his hands shake as he clutches you against him. you’re complete deadweight in his arms, dead to the world, so close to dead. his chest collapses in on itself, because you don’t normally fall asleep standing up and with people around, the stair incident had been when you were alone and everything is just getting worse.

katsuki holds you, and his legs shake and he can’t breathe and he just hopes to god you wake up. some horrifying, awful part of him, one he wants to tear out and blow to pieces, reminds him that this is practice. this is practice for when his best friend falls asleep forever and leaves him all alone. this is practice.

he growls and shoves the thought away, digging his phone out of his pocket. he needs to call auntie seki.

—

he should never have agreed to go to the museum. if you had both stayed in your room, just worked on the math homework and the stupid fucking powerpoint slides, this wouldn’t have happened. you would’ve just fallen asleep in your room, and he would’ve tucked you the fuck in and sat by your side and did his stupid fucking homework and you wouldn’t be in the stupid fucking hospital.

maybe she would’ve been there anyways, a part of his mind whispers, reminding him that you’d been asleep for three days before you’d woken up. that was too long, and now you were in the hospital, always under watch.

he steps onto the train, heading home after visiting you when you’d woken up, and he sits as far in the back as he can. talking to people sounds awful right now.

it hits him like a tsunami, overwhelming, drowning him. throwing him around like a rag doll.

you, asleep, an iv in your hand, still and cold and asleep and dead, so very close to dead, in that hospital room. the crisp sheets, the hospital gown, the seafoam green privacy curtain, the dull drone of the tv, the smell of bleach.

he put your stupid gang orca comic next to your bed, so that if you woke up in the night and no one was there, you would know that he visited, that it wasn’t just your mother who had shown up.

the get well soon cards, pointless and bright and glittery. the balloons, the flowers, the heroes visiting the children’s ward.

he got gang orca to sign the comic, but you didn’t get to meet him.

the fish tanks in the waiting rooms, the toys scattered on the floor by visiting children, the whiteboard above your bed, covered in dry erase marker.

he wrote your name after the nurse spelled it wrong. he wrote it in orange.

the beeping of the machines, incessant, the texts on your phone from deku and the other extras, their stupid messages and wishes and hopes that are stupid because they’ll never come true. his stupid wishes and hopes that will never come true.

he hates the color white, he hates stainless steel and he hates iv bags and he hates bedsheets and he hates hospital gowns and he hates drugstore cards and he hates the story of sleeping beauty and he hates quirks and he hates that he can’t fix this and he hates that he’s been grieving you since childhood and he hates that he’s grieving you even as you live and he hates and he hates and he hates and he buries his face in his hands and sobs all the way home.

—

after the exam, he confronts deku, nearly blows his face off, slams him into the wall, wants to beat the shit out of him. because it should’ve been you at the exam, it should’ve been you. stupid quirkless deku got a quirk that hurts him and it makes something inside him scream and thrash. it should’ve been you, you were supposed to go to UA with him, not deku. it’s stupid and it doesn’t make any sense and he hates deku regardless. he punches deku. it doesn’t help. he does it anyway.

—

katsuki’s shoulders ache. his palms are burning. he’s been training excessively ever since the entrance exam, just waiting for the results. the hospital air is cool and sterile, and it should soothe his injuries, in theory, but theory really doesn’t apply here. he shoulders his way into your hospital room, a smile tugging at his lips. it threatens to turn into a full-blown grin when he sees that you’re awake.

“hey, sleepyhead.” he sits in the chair next to your bed and sets his bag down. “brought you something.”

“you didn’t have to, katsuki.” you smile at him from where you’re propped up against your pillows, weak and watery like winter sunlight. your skin looks paper thin, and when he takes your hand it feels like a bird’s skeleton, light, like it might fly away at any moment. he absently thinks of the lining of a coffin.

“of course i didn’t, stupid,” he huffs, and he’s glad that you smile a bit more. katsuki pulls a glass container out of his bag and hands it to you. “i figured you could use some actual food, since you have to eat this hospital crap all the time.”

your wrist strains under the weight of the glass and you set it down too quickly. he pretends not to notice. you pry the lid open, and light up at what’s inside. “tamagoyaki? you always did make this better than even my mom could.”

katsuki feels his chest warm, and maybe his face. he hands you a pair of chopsticks and sits in silence as you eat.

“you know,” you say around a mouthful of omelette, “you don’t have to pretend you didn’t come here to tell me that you got in.”

katsuki rolls his eyes, and looks away, like always. “i come here everyday, who says i came here today with an objective.”

“because today is the day they give the results back, and you took longer to get here, so you probably stopped at home to pick the letter up.” you point at him with your chopsticks, which is rude, but he can handle it. “you told me it would be today, so i had to make sure i was awake. that’s why i was asleep the last few times you came. i purposefully went to sleep a few days ago so that i could be awake when you needed me.”

he keeps looking away, out the window, because he doesn’t want you to see the way his stupid, traitorous eyes are watering.

he must’ve been quiet for too long, because you set the container down and give him a pointed look. “you gonna tell me or not, you big crybaby?”

katsuki snaps his head around. “who are you calling a crybaby? you cried when shitty deku fell three feet out of a glorified bush.”

your laugh makes the warmth in his chest glow brighter. “don’t redirect the conversation, just tell me you got in.”

“fine, i got in, happy?”

he realizes his mistake when you relax back against your pillows and just laugh at him. he sits through it, watching as you wipe tears from your eyes and curl in on yourself, apparently absolutely tickled by his reaction. he taps his foot and crosses his arms, “you done?”

the beaming smile you send his way crushes any irritation he feels. “very.”

—

as he stands on the first place podium, growling and snarling into the muzzle, all might placing the medal around his neck, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. it’s you or his parents or your mom, because everyone else is on do not disturb, and he hopes with every bone in his body that it’s not a call he wants to avoid, not one that will send him rushing to the hospital for all the wrong reasons.

the ceremony ends, they release him, and the first thing he does is check his phone. “teenagers,” someone scoffs, and he almost blows up the phone in his hand. but he doesn’t, because he’s calling you back, grateful that it wasn’t his parents or auntie seki.

“katsuki?”

“who else.”

“you won!! they played it in the common room and i watched and you were amazing!”

he’s so glad you didn’t bring up the podium thing, but he knows you’ll want to talk about it when he gets there. he just hopes you can stay awake that long.

“i’m always amazing, sleepyhead.”

“yeah, but even you can admit it’s nice to have it acknowledged, publicly, by your dream school.”

“yeah, by my dream school.” by you.

—

he has two tickets to the i-island convention. he knows you’d want to go more than anything, but you’ve been asleep for a week, and the convention is timed to be when you’ll most likely be asleep again. he has those days marked on his calendars with a blue x. every single one feels like a nail in a coffin - yours or his, he’s not sure.

katsuki holds your hand - he doesn’t have to be careful of the iv anymore, since you have a port in your chest - and kisses the back of it. “sorry, sleeping beauty,” he mutters to himself, bitter. he hates sleeping beauty. she left everyone behind. “you can’t go. just me.”

he leaves the ticket on your bedside table anyway. there are no get well soon cards anymore.

—

katsuki bolts upright, sweating, shaking, panicking as he twists in his sheets and falls out of bed in his attempt to escape. the landing knocks him back to the present, and he just lays there, terrified and exhausted, tangled in his bedding, thinking of summer camp and warping and quirk suppressing handcuffs and villainy and he wishes, he wishes you were there to hold his hand and hide under the blankets.

katsuki curls up and cries into your stupid gang orca plush. he has a lot of reasons to be having nightmares and to be crying on the floor in the middle of the night, but it would be easier, maybe, if he didn’t have to do it without you. if he didn’t have to face the reality that he will be doing this alone for the rest of his life.

this is practice, he reminds himself, trembling. this is practice.

he’s never hated being prepared this much in his life.

—

katsuki skids into your hospital room, bag nearly flying off his shoulder in the process. he sprinted here from the train station; you’re finally awake, the hospital called, it’s been weeks, and even though he visits every day at the same time on the same train, he had to get here faster, just in case. just in case it was the last time.

you’re dazed, blinking at him groggily, lying on your side. “katsuki?”

he sits down and scoots the chair closer to your bed. he has no idea what kind of person could stand to sit that damn far away from you.

“i think ‘m dreaming. it doesn’t feel like time is passing anymore. and you were gone for a few days. saw it on the news. but it was crazy,” you try to gesture, still half asleep, but only succeed in gently shifting the quilt on top of you. “they said you were kidnapped.”

he nods, swallows, mouth suddenly dry. “yeah.” he wonders if you’ll remember this.

you squint, “no. you were supposed to be safe. at camp, mm?”

“it wasn’t fucking safe,” he snaps, and he has no idea why. thankfully, your barely-lucid state insulates you from that, and he doesn’t have to see the hurt look on your face.

“‘m sorry. i should’ve been awake.” nevermind, you do look hurt, you’re practically crying. crybaby, he thinks, without any bite. quite disgustingly fondly, actually.

“what the hell do you mean, stupid?” he pushes your hair back from your forehead. he flicks your forehead, as an afterthought; can’t seem too soft.

“said i’d make sure i was awake when you needed me. wasn’t.”

“that wasn’t scheduled. how the hell would you know?”

you shrug, and it looks ridiculous, since you’re half-asleep and lying on your side. a few seconds later you smile dopiley at him, and reach out to cup his jaw.

katsuki doesn’t dare move, straining his eyes to stare at your hand. your fingers feel frail against his face.

“wanna sleep in the same bed, like when we were kids?”

his cheeks heat up, you can probably feel it with your hand there, but fuck him if he’s going to move. “idiot,” he says, and climbs into bed behind you. you’re warm and solid against his chest, and when he wraps his arms around you he feels his chest tighten, like he’s going to cry. he’s not. he won’t.

you still against him, and he knows your time is up for this time around, that you’re falling asleep. he’s spent so much time around you when you’re asleep, he knows what your breathing sounds like, knows it better than what you sound like when you’re awake. right before you drift off, he hears you murmur, “love you, katsuki.”

he does cry, into the skin between your boney shoulder blades, where the hospital gown doesn’t quite cover, and where there’s only skin and bone because you’re asleep too often to get anything more than iv fluid. he cries, and he cries, and he cries until he falls asleep.

—

he visits after he fails the provisional license exam. you’re asleep. this was when you told him you’d try to be awake, this was why you’d slept for a month, so that he could come back and tell you all about how he crushed the exam.

but you’re still, nothing but your quiet, even breathing, and the beeping of the machines. your iv bag hangs faithfully by your side, a constant companion. you’re slowly being erased from existence. he wants to say he’s proud of you, for fighting so hard. for fighting a losing battle. but it’s too late, and he’s not proud, he just thinks his stomach got left behind on the train. the room smells like disinfectant.

katsuki crawls into bed and spoons you, like that’ll keep him from falling apart. he’s breaking into millions of pieces, because he needs you, and you’re not there, and you’ve been dying for years, and he can feel himself dying with you.

he’s hoarse from crying when he says, to the space between your shoulder blades, lips on your skin, “please, please come back.”

the beeping machines and your soft, lifeless breaths answer him.

—

katsuki folds omelette in half, re-greases the pan with an oiled paper towel on the end of his chopsticks, and pours more of the egg mixture into the pan.

“yeah, it was wild, man, one of the other interns got shot, apparently. he lived though, don’t worry!” kirishima waves his hands, like katsuki has the capacity to worry right now. he feels numb, everything is just echoing around him.

“hmm.” he says, poking the omelette with his spatula. he’s making your favorite. even if you can’t eat it. even if he won’t eat it. even if he’ll just give it to the extras, even if it feels like giving a piece of you away.

“he lost his quirk, though. sucks, cause he was going to be an amazing hero.” he bumps katsuki’s shoulder, obviously realizing he’s a bit out of it and trying to get him to respond. “not as good as you though, bro!”

katsuki watches the omelette bubble and solidify. almost time to flip it again. he just wants to lie in your hospital bed with you and sleep forever.

wait. lost his quirk. katsuki nearly flings the spatula into the ceiling tiles. “he what?”

“lost his quirk,” denki helpfully supplies from his seat at the kitchen counter, scribbling furiously at his math homework. “gone. zilp. zich. nada. completely disappeared. terrifying if you ask me.”

jiro wacks him with an earphone jack. “don’t be rude, denki.”

katsuki starts the next layer of the omelette, and he’s not paying attention, but it’s fine. he could do this in his sleep. he’s made hundreds of tamagoyaki for you and your stupid breakfast food sweet tooth. “he lost his quirk. permanently.”

“yes,” kirishima confirms, looking at him weird, like he’s a loose canon or something.

“how.”

“he got shot with a quirk-removing bullet. there was some kind of needle in it.”

“does anyone here know how to make tamagoyaki.”

all of them shake their heads.

fuck the omelette. katsuki sprints for the door, racing across campus, feet pounding against the gravel path as he tears toward the teachers’ dorms. he’s running so hard that he forgets he could’ve used his quirk to get there faster until he’s standing in front of aizawa’s apartment door, banging on it.

“aizawa-sensei! open up, right the fuck now! i don’t care if you’re sleeping, this is a goddamn emergency!”

the door swings open, and present mic is standing there. “jeez, you yell louder than i do, little listener.”

“i need to talk to aizawa sensei. it’s an emergency,” he pauses, “please.”

present mic steps back, ushering him in, and katsuki dashes inside, fuck taking his shoes off, and makes a beeline for the couch that aizawa is napping on. “aizawa-sensei. it’s an emergency.”

“so you keep saying, problem child.” he cracks an eye open. “what’s on fire?”

katsuki bulldozes through aizawa’s banter. “the quirk-removing bullets. are there more.”

aizawa sighs and opens his other eye. “yes, but why do you want them?”

“could they be used on someone who has reached the point of quirk singularity?” he doesn’t care about what aizawa’s asking.

aizawa sits up. “you know someone whose quirk is killing them?”

katsuki nods, hope unfurling its wings in his chest. maybe. just maybe.

“you can talk to the police about it - they’ve confiscated the bullets. but logically, using them on people who actually need them… is better than allowing them to continue to exist and potentially fall into the hands of villains.”

he cries in the middle of aizawa and present mic’s living room, thinking of hospital beds turned coffins, pulling the plug, the mausoleum of your hospital room, a crypt from the very beginning; thinking of you, awake; thinking of you, just you.

mic offers him tea. he accepts it, and prays he’ll have to make another tamagoyaki.

—

it takes a year and a half to get it approved, and he’s made so many tamagoyaki in the past week that his classmates are starting to wonder if he can still make anything else. he can’t focus in class, mind floating off into the clouds, into his childhood with you, heroes “daydream” and “dynamight,” all might comics and gang orca plushes.

he runs to the train station after class, even though it won’t make the train he’s taking arrive sooner or go any faster.

katsuki hurtles into your hospital room at breakneck speed, and they’re all there. his parents, your mom. deku crashes into his back. katsuki ignores that - he’ll talk to stupid shitty deku later. he sits in his usual spot - they left the chair open for him, and he holds your hand. it’s so frail that he’s half afraid it’ll disintegrate when he laces his fingers between yours. it doesn’t.

the nurse is holding a syringe full of whatever they extracted from the bullet, and there’s a clipboard on the bedside table with your mom’s signature. there’s a gang orca keychain next to it - probably deku’s doing. whatever.

the nurse uses the port in your chest - another thing katsuki hates, if only because it reminds him of your stupid, haunting iv bag - to inject the fluid. “based on what we saw with others who have had this done to them, unwillingly, her quirk should be removed instantly. she may not wake up for a few days, though. we’ll be monitoring her closely.” she leaves.

katsuki stays, deku stays, they all stay.

—

he brought the tamagoyaki, but he’s not going to eat it, no way, even if he has to eat terrible, bland, flavorless hospital food, he’s keeping that omelette safe for you if it’s the last thing he does. deku slides onto the hospital cafeteria bench across from him, looking at his rather dismal katsudon bowl.

“i visited her too, you know.”

katsuki grunts.

“i only came when you weren’t here, though. i didn’t want to intrude.” deku’s looking at his plate, flipping a piece of pork around with his chopsticks.

“good,” is all he can think to say. good that you visited her, deku. good that you stayed away when i was there. good that you know she’s mine.

“you look like you’re having an aneurysm, kacchan.”

“fuck you.” thank you, for caring about her. she needs it. even if you suck.

“aw, you too kacchan.”

—

he’s reading howl’s moving castle by your bedside when it happens. it’s been two days, and he can’t stand the idea that it didn’t work. that you might as well be dead. he’s staring at the book’s pages - it’s good, and he can see why you liked it so much, why you wanted him to read it. but he’s been staring at the same page for the last ten minutes, thinking in circles. maybe it’s time for a walk.

he puts his bookmark back and sets the book on your bedside table. his legs are restless as he stretches and puts his jacket on, ready for a walk around the hospital campus. the autumn colors should be nice. just a quick walk, though. he needs to be back soon, since everyone else went home to eat while he stayed - he’ll leave later, when they get back - and he can’t think of anything worse than you waking up alone. he takes your ratty, old, tear-stained gang orca plush, and tucks it in next to you, so you’ll know that he’s not far off.

satisfied, katsuki steps out the door, and trips over himself trying to turn around when he hears a groggy “leaving so soon, katsu-chan?”

it takes every ounce of self-control in his body not to launch himself at you and hug you until your ribs crack. he settles for helping you sit up.

“so, what day is it? what did i miss?”

katsuki’s self control buckles, and he crawls into bed with you and buries his face in your shoulder, arms shaking as they wrap around you.

“you were asleep for over a year and a half,” he chokes out, muffled by the awful, terrible, funeral-pyre hospital gown, as you hug him back. “and we had to take your quirk away to wake you up.”

you’re silent for a few seconds. he figures he wouldn’t know how to respond to that either.

“i’m glad that you found a way. i was getting scared for a second there, scared i might leave you alone.” your hands fist in his sweatshirt, and your voice clips at the end.

“but you didn’t. you’re here, right now, when i need you, like you said you would be,” katsuki grits his teeth and does his best not to cry on you while you’re awake. you’re the crybaby, that’s your job.

you sniffle, and he can feel your tears tickling his neck. “do you think,” you half-sob, half-laugh, sounding a bit hysterical, “do you think they have a new hero exhibit at the museum?”

“it’s gonna be a while before you can do anything again, all your muscle has atrophied the fuck off.” he feels you laugh against him, and he wants to feel that every day for the rest of his life, no more even breathing, just that volatility, a sign of life, that you’re not loitering on death’s doorstep. “but i can take you as soon as you’re clear to leave. i’ll wheel you around.”

you throw a curveball at him, like you always do. “is that a date, katsuki?”

“it’s always been a date, stupid. you just didn’t know it.” he throws the curveball back.

you run your hand through his hair, your arm shaking with the effort of holding your own bones up; it haunts him, this isn’t over yet. “and it took you this long and me nearly dying for you to ask me on a real one, huh?”

“shut up,” he growls, but it comes out feeble and useless against your laugh. you sit in silence for a few moments, just holding each other.

you clear your throat, and he can see in his mind the way you’re probably blinking back tears. “you know, i love you, katsuki.”

he hugs you crushingly tight and kisses you lightly, gently, because he’s afraid you’re going to disappear again. “i love you too,” his mind races for some kind of qualifier, “and you’d be stupid not to know it.”

“i know it, crybaby. i know it.” your hand on his jaw again, so much better when you don’t think he’s some piece of a dream.

“you can drop the cry.” it flies out of his mouth before he even realizes it.

you laugh again, then cough, and he hands you some water from the table. there are get well soon cards there, and this time they actually mean something. he doesn’t want to burn them quite as much.

you set the paper cup down and kiss him on the cheek. “thanks, baby.”

he doesn’t care what you call him. you’re crybaby, you’re sleepyhead, you’re stupid, you’re idiot, and you’re awake and you’re his. everything else can go to hell.

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖗miller