An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Katsuki is so fucking sick of hospital rooms. He hates the heavy scent of antiseptic, the too-starchy pillows, the way the bed crackles every time he moves. He hates the white-popcorn walls that heās forced to stare at through the haze of heavy medication. And he fucking despises the plastic tube shoved up his nose with the quiet, but constant, beeping of several machines keeping tabs on his vitals. Everything about it sucks. The only slightly redeeming quality about this particular hospital stay is that he and Izuku are sharing the same room. Apparently, after Katsukiās tantrum the last time they both nearly died, the nurses figured it was best for everyone if Izuku was put directly in Katsukiās line of vision. And so there he is, still knocked out in his hospital bed opposite Katsukiās. Half his head wrapped in gauze, face swollen with purple bruises, heās bandaged just about everywhere, but heās alive. Katsuki is too riddled with pain meds to do much other than stare at him across the room. But at least Izuku is there, hooked up to a heart-monitor, softly proving that heās still breathing. Which gives Katsukiās battered heart some much needed relief.Ā
Izuku still hasnāt woken up, though. Stupid, sleepy bastard. Always fucking sleeping when Katsuki is awake. How the fuck has Katsuki had three surgeries, one of them open-heart surgery, and heās managing to flit in and out of consciousness, but Izuku is still out like a light? Katsuki thought Izuku swore to surpass him. Why the fuck does he think he can fall behind now? Katsuki scowls at Izukuās tuft of fluffy green hair.Ā
Wake up or Iāll kill youĀ , Katsuki vows.
Katsuki knows heās in love with him. He should have known a long time ago really, but having his heart burst put everything into stark clarity. He canāt deny it now. Not even if he wanted to. The next time Katsuki greets death, he will do so without regrets. Thereās so much he needs to make up for; he still has so much atoning left to do. He has to show Izuku he will be better and do right by him. Izuku canāt fucking die before Katsuki has the chance to prove himself. Even if Izuku never loves him back, Katsuki must at least prove that he can be good. That he is worthy of standing at Izukuās side.Ā
Days pass and Izuku still doesnāt wake. Katsukiās pleadings only get more desperate. Usually itās just in his head, but sometimes, when itās late at night and no one else is around, Katsuki will murmur to him aloud.Ā
āYou donāt have to forgive me,ā Katsuki whispers into the oppressive quiet of their hospital room. Only the soft chime of Izukuās heart-monitor answers him. āYou donāt have to be mine. Just wake up. Donāt make me live in a world without you.āĀ
Shadows dance as headlights stream through the curtains shading their window, and for a moment Katsuki thinks maybe--- but no. The car passes and Izuku hasnāt stirred. God fucking dammit. Katsuki doesnāt know why heās surprised: of course Izuku canāt actually hear him. Tears prick at the corners of Katsukiās eyes anyway.Ā
It becomes a nightly ritual. Katsukiās mind is too muddled with medication to make sense most of the time, but at least it gives him something to do. God, he canāt wait until heās off all this shit and actually, you know, move and whatever. His arm was so bent and twisted when he was admitted that they had to implant metal poles to strengthen it, and fuck if it doesnāt feel weird. Recovery Girl comes by every day to heal him, bit by bit so as not to exhaust his limited energy, and thereās a quirk specialist flying out from the states to repair Katsukiās damaged muscle. They have assured him that with time and physical therapy he should get all his mobility back, but it gives Katsuki little comfort. He would cut the whole damn limb off if it meant Izuku would justĀ wake upĀ .Ā
āPlease, for me,ā Katsuki whispers, one night after a particularly exhausting round of visits from his parents, Izukuās mom, and All Might. āJust this one thing. Just wake up. I wonāt ask for anything else, just be okay.āĀ
Katsuki must drift off. The concoction of sleep-aids and pain medications dragging him into unconsciousness against his will. He thinks he might be dreaming when he hears ragged breathing and a soft croaky voice.Ā
āKaā Kāchānā¦ KachāāĀ
Katsuki jolts awake, his heart-rate spiking and his head spinning. He canāt haveā it couldnāt beā
"stories dont need conflict" girl anything can be a conflict if ur story is about chickens going on adventures the conflict is the fucking fence they gotta hop over. if ur story is about making a lovely cup of tea the conflict can be turning on the stove. like u literally cannot write a story without conflict
ALSO i hate mfers who say this shit and then go "thats why i like ghibli movies cuz theyve got no conflict" OH YOU MEAN HOWLS MOVING CASTLE, NAUSICAA, PRINCESS MONONOKEY CASTLE IN THE SKY ETC THAT ARE ALL ABOUT THE HORRORS OF WAR
even the ones that arent about the horrors of war. in kiki's delivery service kiki growing up and learning to trust people and accept help is the central conflict of the story!! my neighbour totoro's central conflict is how the girls are dealing with their mom being sick and the responsibility they feel this puts on them!! i could go on!!
that man has been trying to climb this tower since he was 16. he has asked multiple times, and every time they said no, but now heās famous enough & variety was able to convince them to do a shoot on the tower. it all led here. it was all for this.
the thing is that for all its supposed faults, i would take this brand of 90s utopian globalism over whatever the fuck weāve been doing for the last 10 years in a heartbeat
