Consciousness ebbed and flowed in tandem with ocean tides crashing kilometers away. A heavy, comforting warmth swathed Katsuki’s very soul with all its love and affection. Something beeped repeatedly, far off in the distance.

The haze in his brain was a thick fog – clouding his thoughts and lucidity. Nothing felt real. Awake, but not present, stuck somewhere in between reality and dreamland.

He kind of felt like he was floating, limbs pleasantly light and tingly and surely the result of the liquid morphine mixed in with his saline. Not that he really knew that; there wasn’t a coherent thought behind those fluttering eyes.

Every so often, the darkness would creep back in and slowly eat through his fight for consciousness, leaving him chained to the black abyss of sleep once again.

After fighting the same battle for what felt like hours, the haze finally began to lift. The fog steadily evaporated, losing its clash against whatever was warming him from the inside out. Whatever was wrapped around his left side, searing into his skin.

When his eyes finally cracked open, it was to an unlit drop ceiling. This one was much cleaner than the last time he’d woken up. The familiar scent of antiseptic was heavy – too industrial to be another back-alley doctor.

So an actual hospital then.

Huh. That couldn’t be good.

He blinked a few times, trying to make his eyes adjust against the grit of exhaustion. The warm pressure against his left drew his attention, forcing his eyes all the way open, and wider more when his laggy brain processed the scene before him.

Izuku, asleep, with his torso sprawled over the edge of the mattress and face smushed right up against Katsuki’s hand. It was also cradled in one of Izuku’s, despite the IV taped to him. Izuku’s other hand was draped over Katsuki’s thigh, indents of his fingers still visible in the blanket where he’d probably been gripping him. His lips were slightly parted, his slow, deep breaths ghosting against the blond’s skin.