Chapter Text
Izuku woke slowly. He knew he was in the hospital—he could hear the heart monitor and the low hum of fluorescents. The sheets were familiar to him, too. Scratchy and just a little too cold. His limbs felt heavy. His torso felt stiff.
He could smell antiseptic and nitroglycerin—
Nitroglycerin.
He cracked his eyes open, frowning at the bright artificial light that was clearly trying to blind him. The first thing he saw was his mother's purse on his bedside table.
His right arm felt heavy, so he rolled his head toward it. His heart fluttered in his chest. Katsuki was holding his hand with both of his—his head laid over their clasped hands as he slept. Izuku smiled, taking a moment to appreciate the way his lashes brushed the tops of his cheeks.
He'd missed waking up to look at Katsuki.
His stomach sank and his smile disappeared. He missed it because Katsuki wasn't with him anymore. So why was he here? Sure, they were still friends, but Katsuki wasn't just visiting like friends were supposed to. Friends were supposed to come and leave flowers, then leave. Lovers, partners, boyfriends—they stayed and held your hand while waiting for you to wake up.
Maybe he was reading too far into it, but it felt too intimate. For a moment, he'd forgotten that they weren't together, and the pain of remembering hurt more than whatever was going on with his ribs right now—and his ribs hurt like a bitch.
Carefully, he pulled his hand out of Katsuki's grip, but the movement awakened the sleeping blonde. It was just like when he'd wake up in their bed. First, he blinked, sleepy and uncomprehending as awareness crept up on him. Then awareness would seep into his consciousness and he'd start his day with purpose.
This time, though, awareness seemed to crash into him all at once. Katsuki seized Izuku's hand again, raising it to his mouth to kiss it reverently. Izuku's stomach churned. That didn't feel friendly. Katsuki's eyes were burning into his.
"What are you doing here?" he rasped, wincing at how shitty his voice sounded. He felt like he'd swallowed crushed glass.
"God, I honestly thought I'd lost you this time," Katsuki whined, low and pained. He reached forward to cup Izuku's cheek in his broad, warm hands. Fuck, he missed Katsuki's hands. "You fucking—you disappeared and you weren't answering comms, and then some shitty sidekick said they'd seen you do down—"
"Katsuki—"
"When I finally found you, you were pinned by so much fucking concrete and there was this big-ass piece of sheet metal that had sliced through half your goddamn leg and every time I tried to shift rubble it just went deeper and you were losing so much blood—"
"Katsuki—"
"And then—fuck—and then they airlifted you to the hospital and I couldn't fucking breathe until they told me you were stable, but it took hours of surgery—"
"KACCHAN!" he snapped. Katsuki fell silent, eyes widening. "Why are you here?" he demanded.
Katsuki winced, face flooding with guilt and anguish. "I thought I fucking lost you," he whispered, pained. "I had to be here to see you wake up. I had to."
"You—" Izuku stopped himself. Maybe this is just what friendship with Katsuki looked like. It didn't feel like it though, and he couldn't remember him sitting bedside for Eijirou or Mina. And in any case, it hurt. He had to draw a line in the sand. He had to protect himself. Katsuki had to know what he was doing to him. "You sound like you did two months ago when you still thought you loved me," he said, looking down at their clasped hands bitterly.
He expected Katsuki to drop his hands and apologize. To tell him he was being a concerned friend the only way he knew how.
"I'm sorry," Katsuki whispered, sounding ashamed. Izuku waited for him to pull away—to unwind their fingers and put distance back between them. Then, to his shock, Katsuki's grip tightened. "I'm so stupid, and I'm so sorry."
Izuku frowned. "Why?" he asked hesitantly. Katsuki's hands were anchoring him—rough and warm and perfect.
Katsuki brought Izuku's hand back up to his lips, brushing kisses across his knuckles. "I do love you. I know I said I didn't, but I do. I'm so fucking sorry I said it—"
Izuku's stomach was free-falling and his heart was racing. He actually felt a little sick. "Then why—"
"Just after the mind control villain, do you remember the media coverage we were getting?" Katsuki asked quietly. Izuku felt a little sicker. "I overheard some PR reps talking about our brand. About how my image was holding you back. Then two days later, I was having lunch with Mina and she said someone at the Galaxy agency had been overheard talking about how if you're with me, there was no way you were anything like your media presence."
The nausea was souring into something sharper—closer to anger. "You broke up with me because a few extras—"
"It's not just a few extras," he interrupted. "And you know it. I lied when I said I didn't love you, and I was wrong to say that our agency wasn't working. We do a kick-ass job, so that was just downright stupid. But I was dragging you down. Your career isn't anywhere near where it should be—"
"FUCK my career! You think I care more about my career than you?"
"It's not just your career!" Kacchan yelled. Izuku fell silent, but maintained his glower, hoping it burned. "Your friends barely hang out with you anymore. I know Cheeks doesn't like me—she's basically disappeared from your life except for your shitty coffee dates. Fuck, IcyHot is the only one of your friends who still came around by the end."
"If they couldn't be happy for me, that's their problem. What mattered was that I was happy!"
"Were you?"
"Yes!" Izuku cried, eyes stinging. "Stupidly, over the moon happy every single day. God, minutes before you broke up with me, all I could think about was how good I had it. Of course, I was happy."
Kacchan swallowed, looking down at their hands. He was silent for a long moment, and Izuku could feel him steeling himself for something. "Then will you take me back?" he asked quietly, as though he were sure Izuku would turn him down.
Izuku's jaw clenched. Tears had started leaking from his eyes in a steady stream. He didn't know if they were tears of anger or sadness. Probably both. Part of him wanted to pull Kacchan forward and kiss him stupid. The other part of him wanted to slap his beautiful, stupid head clean off his shoulders.
"You're a fucking idiot," he finally said. Kacchan's shoulders fell, and his head dropped lower. His grip on Izuku's hand loosened, but Izuku grabbed tighter—holding him in place. "You should have talked about this with me. We should have worked through it together. That's what partners do."
"I know," he uttered. "Ei's been harassing me for a fuckin' week now. And then I thought you were gonna die thinking I don't love you and fuck, I never want to go through that shit again."
Izuku considered him with blazing eyes. He was angry, sad, elated, and so fucking in love with this emotionally constipated jackass. "By the time I'm out of this hospital, you're going to be moved back into our flat."
Because in what ridiculous alternate universe would Izuku not take Kacchan back?
Kacchan's head snapped up, eyes wide. "What?"
"You heard me. You're gonna move back in. Then you're scheduling two therapy appointments. One for yourself, because you clearly need it. And the other one is for us. We have shit we need to work on, so couple's therapy seems like a good first step."
"Deku—"
"Kacchan. I just spent a month without you and I've never been so miserable in my life. I can't sleep without you. God, I can barely breathe without you. Please, move back in."
Katsuki stared at him for a long moment. All of Izuku's anger left him in a rush when the tiny, hopeful smile quirked at the edges of Kacchan's lips. He was so beautiful.
"I dunno, nerd. The new place is nicer," he joked. His voice wavered and Izuku could hear it—the anxiety. He'd spent a month thinking that he was worse at reading Kacchan than he thought he was. That he'd been missing something, because Kacchan said he didn't love him even though Izuku saw it.
But he'd been right. He hadn't missed anything—he could read Kacchan like an open book.
Izuku squeezed his hand, reassuring and determined. "Then move me in there, Kacchan," he said. "I just wanna be wherever you are. Maybe we need a fresh start anyway."
Kacchan leaned in, and Izuku eagerly propped himself up on his elbows to meet him halfway—kissing him for the first time in a month. It was slow and hesitant, and tremulous like neither of them were sure it was really happening. Then they melted into it—sinking into each other's veins like they belonged there. It was wet. Izuku was crying.
It didn't matter which apartment they moved into. This was coming home.