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Katsuki doesn’t cry.
Why should he? They won. Katsuki and Izuku—they got kidnapped, big deal. The pros found them in time. They’re fine and Katsuki isn’t some loser who cries because of what might have happened.
The fact remains, he’s fine. Because he’s not the one that got hurt.
Or the one that had been tortured for hours. The one who almost lost too much blood, god there had been so much blood, not enough of it in Izuku’s veins and too too much on Katsuki’s hands.
No, Katsuki is the one who got to sit there and watch.
“You look away and I’ll kill him.”
When Katsuki wakes up, he can see with both eyes, his right no longer crusted shut with blood from his temple trailing into it.
He sees white instead of red and it’s as jarring as it is comforting. He’s in a hospital, the walls are white instead of gray and Izuku—
Isn’t here. He isn’t here and Katsuki almost vomits because the first thing he thinks is that he doesn’t have to watch anymore.
“Just—just get off him—!”
“No.”
He doesn’t go to see Izuku. Not face to face.
Instead, Katsuki stands outside the door to his room, a palm pressed against it. He tilts his head to the side and shuts his eyes to focus. It’s quiet, barely audible, but Katsuki can hear the beep of a monitor.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Katsuki feels lightheaded, the blood from his forehead hitting the ground. Izuku doesn’t snore, so Katsuki doesn’t let himself groan in pain. He needs to be quiet if he wants to count Izuku’s breaths. Just to make sure there is always a next one.
Izuku is—he’s alive. He’s healing. Katsuki tells himself that is enough for now.
The blade traces Izuku’s skin, connecting the freckles across his shoulders with a thin strip of red and Katsuki forces himself to trace its movement with his eyes.
“You’re learning. That’s good.”
“Bakugou, how are you feeling?”
Katsuki pretends he can’t hear Aizawa.
“Bakugou. You don’t have to speak to me. There are plenty of people you could go to.”
He pretends.
“It’s okay. Whenever you’re ready, kid.”
He won’t be.
“Ready for more?”
Their captor doesn’t wait for an answer.
Izuku wakes up.
Katsuki forces his parents to sign him out of the hospital the same day.
“Please. Please, I can’t see him,” he tells them and it is only because they have already seen him at his worst and kept loving him despite it that he lets himself be weak. Just for a moment.
His mother cards her fingers through his hair while his father puts a hand on his back. They are warm.
His fingers are ice to the touch. They’re cold, and now they’re stained red. Red. Red. Re—
His friends try to get him to speak once he returns to the dorms. Ashido cries and hugs him. He lets her, just this once.
“You assholes doubted me?”
He gets four variations of never and smirks.
But there’s one voice missing. A vote of confidence that, without it, makes something heavy settle in Katsuki’s stomach. He stuffs himself with food that evening, wanting any other excuse to explain the feeling.
In the end, he only succeeds in making himself feel sick as well.
Yellow teeth bare in a grin. Katsuki’s eyes burn.
Katsuki returns from the gym with his knuckles cracked and bleeding. He shoves them into his pockets while walking past his classmates. Some of their stares linger, but Katsuki ignores them.
Seeing won’t change anything.
Their captor leaves, and Katsuki writhes in his chains, stretching until his fingers brush Izuku’s again. They twitch, and Katsuki is at his limit because he almost sobs in relief.
A week turns into two and by the time Katsuki has made his trek from the gym a routine, Izuku finds a way to destroy it. He almost laughs, because who else could tear his plans to shreds without even trying.
Katsuki shuts the door to his room behind him and switches on the light.
His desk chair spins towards him, Izuku sat in it with the tips of his fingers pressed together menacingly.
“Kacchan, I’ve been expecting you.”
Katsuki blinks slowly, before turning on his heel and making to leave.
“Wait, no! Sorry!” Izuku rushes forward, his palm outstretched so he can push the door shut before Katsuki can make his escape, the chair squeaking behind him. “Please stay!”
“How did you even get in here?”
“Your window was open and I know how to scale a building.”
Katsuki whirls on him, taking a step forward into Izuku’s space so he can snarl in his face. “This isn’t a fucking joke, Deku.”
“Deku. Deku, shit, please. Please…”
“…Izuku?”
Katsuki doesn’t know why he thought that would work.
“Right. Sorry. I didn’t really plan out what I was going to say.”
Katsuki looks down, and sure enough there are crumpled notes spilling out of Izuku’s pocket.
“Sure.”
Izuku glares briefly, more embarrassed than mad and shoves his hands into his pockets. And it’s then that Katsuki realises his own hands aren’t hidden anymore. Izuku seems to realise it at the same time.
“Get the hell out of here, Deku. I’ve spent more than enough time locked up with you, so—“
“Hold on, I brought something for you.” He turns back to the desk and picks up a small black bag, and after a second Katsuki realises it’s a first aid kit. “Let me help, and I promise I’ll leave.”
Katsuki glares and grabs him by the arm. “No. Now get out.”
“You can’t act like nothing happened—“
“Watch me.”
Katsuki almost opens the door but Izuku kicks out to shut it again.
“Please? We don’t have to talk. Just let me help. Please.”
And Katsuki still wants to say no. He wants to yell that he doesn’t need help and that Izuku couldn’t help him if he tried.
But Katsuki knows what it’s like to feel powerless. And the need to feel useful? Even more so. And he knows he is at least somewhat to blame for it, so he relents. He throws himself back to sit on his bed and uses his leg to pull the desk chair closer to him.
“Hurry up. I’m already behind schedule and at this rate I won’t be able to get to bed until quarter past eight at the earliest.”
Izuku laughs. Katsuki can’t remember the last time he’d made him do that.
He doesn’t speak, which Katsuki knows is hard for him. Instead he soaks a cotton ball and gets to work cleaning the broken skin on Katsuki’s hand. Izuku’s fingers shake but his touch is gentle so Katsuki bites his tongue. Izuku is pathetic but—but no, he isn’t. At all.
Because every time Katsuki becomes witness to Izuku in pain or in trouble or suffering, he also has to see Izuku give his all to help someone else. It’s not the first time Katsuki finds himself on the end of his selflessness and though Katsuki doesn’t like it, he is starting to understand that there probably won’t be a last.
He thinks that might be why he is so scared. Of Izuku. For Izuku. Of what happened and could keep happening if Katsuki stays around him.
Because when Katsuki says Izuku gives his all, he means it in the worst way possible.
“Tell me to stop, hero, and I’ll move on to your friend over there.”
Katsuki doesn’t expect him to speak. That doesn’t make the silence any easier to listen to.
“You got hurt. And I was useless.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
Katsuki jerks his hand away. “Like hell it wasn’t!”
He stands and paces to the other side of his room and back.
“I got caught. I was a hostage. And the fucker used that to get to you. And now you—“
Katsuki looks at him. Looks and sees everything he has tried to deny. Yellow and brown bruises decorate his skin and while all the blood has been cleaned away, cuts and stitches make sure Katsuki can’t lie to himself anymore than he already has.
Katsuki isn’t fine. He isn’t okay and because of that Izuku keeps suffering.
He sighs, dragging a hand down his face.
“You’re still trying to help.”
“Of course. I mean—we’re, you know. Not friends, I guess. But, I don’t want you to hurt.”
“How—why—Deku, I sat there and watched as that sick son of a bitch—“
Guilt churns in his gut. Nausea threatens to make his dinner resurge but he swallows hard.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d had to be the one watching you get hurt.”
Izuku speaks as though Katsuki’s the one that doesn’t sleep. That walks with a limp. Whose eyes are pained when he so much as smiles. Katsuki only knows all of this because avoiding Izuku seems to go against his very nature. And though Izuku once looked at Katsuki like he personally placed every star in the sky, he isn’t actually all-powerful. That doesn’t mean he is useless, though. He’s learning that maybe it never has.
Katsuki falls into his role and scoffs. “Probably would’ve pulled a whole new quirk outta’ your ass.”
Laughter fills his room and Katsuki hopes he gets the chance to get used to it. They’re tired. They’re sore and hurt and Katsuki doesn’t get scared but Izuku’s hands, without anything to hold on to, won’t stop shaking.
The chair shrieks as Katsuki throws himself back into it, spinning to face Izuku and holding his untreated hand out.
Izuku takes it.