we are the protagonists of the world

Izuku still hasn’t 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 he’s 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 Izuku’s tuft of fluffy green hair. 

Wake up or I’ll kill you , Katsuki vows.

Katsuki knows he’s in love with him. He should have known a long time ago really, but having his heart burst put everything into stark clarity. He can’t deny it now. Not even if he wanted to. The next time Katsuki greets death, he will do so without regrets. There’s 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 can’t 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 Izuku’s side. 

Days pass and Izuku still doesn’t wake. Katsuki’s pleadings only get more desperate. Usually it’s just in his head, but sometimes, when it’s late at night and no one else is around, Katsuki will murmur to him aloud. 

“You don’t have to forgive me,” Katsuki whispers into the oppressive quiet of their hospital room. Only the soft chime of Izuku’s heart-monitor answers him. “You don’t have to be mine. Just wake up. Don’t make me live in a world without you.” 

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 hasn’t stirred. God fucking dammit. Katsuki doesn’t know why he’s surprised: of course Izuku can’t actually hear him. Tears prick at the corners of Katsuki’s eyes anyway. 

It becomes a nightly ritual. Katsuki’s mind is too muddled with medication to make sense most of the time, but at least it gives him something to do. God, he can’t wait until he’s 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 doesn’t feel weird. Recovery Girl comes by every day to heal him, bit by bit so as not to exhaust his limited energy, and there’s a quirk specialist flying out from the states to repair Katsuki’s 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 just wake up . 

“Please, for me,” Katsuki whispers, one night after a particularly exhausting round of visits from his parents, Izuku’s mom, and All Might. “Just this one thing. Just wake up. I won’t ask for anything else, just be okay.” 

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. 

“Ka— K’ch’n… Kach—” 

Katsuki jolts awake, his heart-rate spiking and his head spinning. He can’t have— it couldn’t be—

 “ Kacchan… ”