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Days in the sanitorium were long and hot. Summer had arrived a few weeks earlier, ushered in by the shrill cry of the cicadas, and had already begun to beat down on the Japanese countryside. In the morning, when the hospital was quiet and the light was soft, Izuku liked to look out the window and imagine he was outside. It was the kind of weather he’d always liked as a child – muggy and hazy, almost dreamlike – when he’d played baseball with his classmates.He didn’t have much time left. He knew this when he watched the peaceful countryside sway with the wind, he knew this when his mother visited with happy stories and smiles that stopped at her mouth, he knew this when he coughed longer and harder, with so much force that his body convulsed with it. It was 1948, and Midoriya Izuku was dying.It didn’t bother him, anymore. He used to cry nearly every night imagining his death, bitter tears seeping into his pillows as he pictured consumption personified dragging him further and further into the hard dirt until he suffocated in it. The only emotion he could feel now was a tired acceptance, one that sank deep into his bones. He counted down those summer days listening to the cicadas knowing that any one of them could be his last, dates dripping like grains of sand through his mental hourglass.The twenty-fifth of June was hotter than average, and sweat trickled down Izuku’s neck, dampening the collar of his shirt. He’d woken up early in the morning to an intense coughing fit that had to be quelled by the nurses, eyes concerned over their masks and gloved hands gentle against his bony shoulders— and hadn’t been able to fall back asleep since. He’d watched the sky until it was light out instead, tracing the fading constellations with his gaze until they were obscured by the sun.Now the facility was bustling, doctors’ footsteps echoing down the hallways as they rushed off to check on their patients, and the outside world had begun to stir. Though the hospital itself was isolated from the harmful smog of the city, a small school sat not a mile away, nestled in an overgrown field and surrounded by the houses of nearby farmers. Izuku had discovered it on a walk with his mother back when he was permitted to go outside the hospital’s walls without supervision. They’d been walking along the main path, waving hello to the children playing on the sprawling riverbanks, when they’d seen it standing there. Izuku had barely been able to see what was going on inside the school, but when he squinted especially hard he could make out the silhouettes of students hunched over their notebooks.In the absence of entertainment other than books, he pretended that he was going to high school there. He’d turn eighteen in less than a month, so he would be on the cusp of applying to university if he were destined to survive that long. His mother had always told him that he could get in anywhere he wanted with his smarts, and while he didn’t believe that for a single second, he liked to think that he’d end up in a big city. The Americans must have done some reconstruction since Izuku had last been living outside so they were probably even more grand and exciting than Izuku knew. Maybe he’d be chattering about Tokyo with his friends over lunch, watching the track team run down the beaten down road and scribbling notes in his textbooks as he waited for the school day to end so he could return home and finish his homework.He was daydreaming about taking his college entrance exams when he heard a shattering noise from nearby and felt something land hard on his thigh, so hard it would probably bruise later. When he looked down to see what had hit him, he couldn’t contain his smile. A battered baseball sat in his lap, dirt-encrusted surface stark against the hospital’s pristine white sheets.It probably came from one of the kids at the school, he surmised, raising his head to observe the damage to the window. There was a massive hole in the center – the blunt force trauma caused by the baseball, he realised, and giggled into his sleeve at the thought – and shards of glass littered the floor of his room, reflections leaving dappling patterns of light against his wall. Izuku peered out into the field, eager to determine who the culprit had been, and saw a figure rapidly approaching from the fields, black uniform pants clearly visible even in the bright light. He was a boy around Izuku’s age, judging by the looks of him – with sun-bleached blonde hair and tanned skin typical of farmers’ children.After a few more seconds of jogging, the boy slowed to a purposeful stride, wiping the sweat off his brow as he weeded through the brush to get to Izuku’s window. His eyes were a deep, dark brown, glinting red in the morning light, and his mouth was set in a severe frown. He was a student, that much was clear, though the grass stains on his knees and his rumpled uniform top gave Izuku the impression that he’d been outside and not studying in the building.“Fuck,” the boy muttered when he reached the window, reaching a hand out to prod at the hole he’d made. “I didn’t think it’d carry that far.”Izuku held his breath – one, two, three his mind counted morosely – and waited for the boy to notice him. He hardly saw anyone from the outside these days, mostly because there was no one to come visit. All his old friends had long since forgotten him at this point, more than two years after he’d been jerked away from his hometown in the midst of the war and dragged off to the sanatorium, and he wasn’t likely to encounter any new ones in quarantine.Izuku lowered his eyes to the ball, contemplating throwing it back out the window to avoid the humiliation of the boy running away at the sight of him, when he heard three aggressive raps on the window. Looking up, he started when he found the boy’s angry gaze trained on his. His eyes were even redder up close than they’d been from afar, framed by light eyelashes that shone in the direct sunlight.“What are you doing with my ball?” asked the boy, jerking his head in the direction of Izuku’s lap.Izuku blinked, then looked back down at the baseball resting on his thighs. “I-It went through the window,” he stammered, cheeks heating in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to take it, it just—it hit me in the leg, and I couldn’t give it back, so…”The boy looked skeptical, but didn’t attempt to refute Izuku again. “Give it here,” he said instead, casting his dark eyes at the hole in the window. “I need it.”Izuku nodded, not speaking for fear of tripping over his words again. Grasping the ball firmly in his right hand, he took a deep breath before he lifted his arm to throw it, wincing at the strain of the movement. He pitched it out the window with all the strength he had, barely holding in a triumphant shout when it slid through the hole with ease out into the boy’s waiting hands.The boy tossed it up into the air, catching it one-handedly so casually Izuku suspected he’d done it without even thinking. “Thanks,” he said, turning to leave.Izuku watched him go, fingers twitching at his side with the desire to reach out and stop the boy from leaving him alone again, and sighed when his silhouette went out of view. “You’re welcome,” he said to no one in particular, shifting around on his bed to stare at the cracked wallpaper.He’d fantasised enough for one day.When he woke up the next morning, it was to heavy rainfall. It was surprising – Junes in the country were usually mild, long stretches of hot days uninterrupted by extreme weather conditions. It wasn’t a bad kind of surprise, though; the cool air was refreshing after so many consecutive weeks of heat, and the pattering of the rain against his window was soothing amidst the daily noises of the sanatorium.Still, he thought, tilting his head to look at the rainwater pooling on his windowsill that threatened to drip onto the floor below. The water damage might be a problem.The sanatorium, nice as it may have been, had bigger things to deal with than the state of Izuku’s window. He’d been informed by a flustered staff member that it’d be repaired as soon as possible, Midoriya-san, we apologise most profusely, and so the hole remained. Though the breeze probably wasn’t good for his lungs, he hadn’t been outside in the rain for so long that scent of it was refreshing. It reminded him of springs spent with his friends exploring the fields bordering his hometown, and of nights spent outside soaking in the warm air.He sat there for a few minutes, eyes closed and face upturned. If he didn’t think about the room around him or the unpleasant scratch of his breathing, he could almost believe he was out in the rain. Phantom droplets dribbled onto his arms from the imaginary storm clouds, sending shivers up his spine.Sighing heavily, he opened his eyes, breaking the illusion. It wasn’t good to indulge in such fantasies often—they gave him false hope, for one, and they made him resent the monotonous days in the sanatorium even more. There was no use in lingering on dreams that would never be realised, though venturing into his imagination did alleviate some of his boredom.The weather was thankfully enjoyable even from the vantage point of his bed. Raindrops crept down the windowpane, clinging to the glass for as long as they could before they splattered onto the sill below.Peering out into the downpour, Izuku could just barely make out a figure braving the storm. The rest of their features were impossible to see from so far away, but he liked to think that it was a local farmer making his way home early to go see his family. Strangely, though, the figure wasn’t walking towards the main road. No—whoever it was, they were making their way down the path leading to the sanatorium. As they drew nearer, Izuku saw that he was a student, though there was a sports jacket draped over his head that prevented Izuku from seeing any of his other features.The student swerved off the path at the last minute, weaving through the shrubbery near Izuku’s window to stop several feet in front of it. Hanging off his back was a small rucksack, sealed to protect whatever was inside it from the rain. When he shed the sports jacket shielding his head from the rain, Izuku jolted in surprise. It was the same boy from the day before, hair as wild and blonde as it had been yesterday, clad in the dirty uniform he’d been wearing when the baseball had crashed through Izuku’s window.“There’s a hole,” he shouted over the thunder, jabbing a finger in the direction of the jagged edges of the remaining glass.Izuku blinked, momentarily dumbstruck, and stared at the boy’s outstretched arm. He was wearing the summer uniform, still, wet cotton plastered to his skin. There was something ethereal about him in all his drenched glory, those narrowed red eyes fixed on his.“In your window,” the boy clarified, quieter, annoyance seeping into his voice. “Because of the baseball I threw at it.”His voice was unexpected. It was coarser than Izuku had initially noticed, raspy and angry in the same way the sharp angles of his face were. There was an intriguing symmetry to him, and Izuku couldn’t help but wonder whether this boy was all edges or whether he had a soft underbelly, too.After a few seconds’ pause, Izuku, realizing he’d let the silence drag on too long, said sheepishly, “Yes…?”“Was that a question or an answer?” asked the boy, scuffing his dirty sneakers against the wet soil. “Just talk like a normal person.”Izuku winced, eyes darting between the boy’s pinched face and his own fingernails. He knew better than anyone how rusty his social skills were – having spent years in a sanatorium imagining conversations with people who either didn’t exist or didn’t care what he said, he was all too aware that his experience with talking to actual people was limited at best. “Sorry,” he said, shooting the boy an awkward half-smile. “I haven’t talked to anyone my age for a while.”There was a moment, punctuated by the soft tapping of the rain against the window, when neither of them attempted to continue the conversation. Then the boy said suddenly, averting his eyes to a tree to the right of Izuku’s window, “Not that it matters, but I realised when I got home yesterday that you might just keel over if I let the draft come into your room all night long, being in the hospital and all.”He shrugged the rucksack off of his shoulders, kneeling down and rummaging through its contents to pull out a rumpled plaid blanket. It wasn’t knit – hardly anyone could afford knit goods these days, so that wasn’t a surprise – but it looked warm, lined with soft fleece that Izuku knew was a rare commodity even in the sanatorium.“Don’t read into it,” he said, taking a few steps forward to shove the dry blanket into the hole in the window, “but I didn’t want you to go dying on me and get us both in trouble. My ma never uses the damn thing, anyhow.”Izuku gazed at the blanket in unabashed wonder. He’d never expected to see the boy again after their chance meeting yesterday, and they obviously weren’t friends, but the sight of him now was so strangely comforting.The boy sighed heavily and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t want to take it home even if you don’t need it,” he said, “so if you don’t get up and take it, I’m just gonna leave it on the floor.”“Oh, no!” said Izuku quickly, tearing his eyes from the blanket to look the boy in the face. “I definitely want it! I just—you surprised me. I didn’t think you’d come back.”“Well, I came back,” repeated the boy tonelessly. “And I brought a fucking blanket with me. Which I’m trying to give to you, obviously. Anything else you wanted to bring to my attention?”Izuku flushed, shame pricking at his fingertips. “I’m so sorry,” he said again, trying to conjure up another semi-believable smile, though he knew it would inevitably be to no avail. “It’s just that I can’t really walk that far by myself anymore, so I can’t, um. I can’t go and get it. Even though I want to.”The boy, clearly exasperated, heaved another labored sigh. “Fucking shit,” he groaned, tipping his head back. Raindrops dripped onto the pronounced bridge of his nose, sliding backwards into his hairline as he rocked in place. “This is so much more annoying than I thought it was gonna be. Is there any other entrance to this shithole? I need to get rid of the dumb blanket now that it’s wet. Ma would fucking murder me if I brought it home like this.”Izuku resisted the urge to tell the boy that he could just leave it out to dry when the rain cleared up, and said, “You could come in as a visitor if you wanted, but then you’d have to go through the main entrance and put your name on the list. I don’t get many, though, so the workers might be a little concerned about you.” When the boy offered no disagreement, he added, “My name is Midoriya Izuku, by the way. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”The boy’s upper lip twitched, but he pulled the blanket back from the window and ambled towards the front of the hospital, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he muttered to himself.Izuku watched him until he was out of sight, then slouched down in his bed, burying his face in his hands. He hadn’t wanted to annoy the boy – on the contrary, Izuku had been thrilled when he returned to the sanatorium – but even with his limited social skills, he knew that conversation hadn’t gone very well.“Why did I invite him in?” he whispered, peeking through his fingers to eye the closed door with unbridled terror. “What was I thinking? I should’ve just told him to give it back to his mom. Maybe she needed the blanket.”
Izuku was still contemplating how to salvage the botched conversation when he heard three sharp raps at the door mere minutes later. Too late to go back now, he thought. He took a final steadying breath, then called out, “Come in!”A nurse – thankfully one of the younger ones who dropped by his room every now and again to make small talk – poked her head around the doorframe. “Good morning, Midoriya-san,” she said cheerfully. “You have a visitor here to see you. Do you know a Bakugou Katsuki-san?” No, he considered responding. I actually just met him, though I didn’t know his name until you just said it, and I’m convinced he thinks I’m an idiot. “Yes, I do,” he said instead, smiling weakly at the friendly nurse. “You can let him in, Hajime-san. Thank you.”Hajime shot him a final wink before she ducked out and beckoned to the person waiting outside, bustling off down the hallway to attend to other patients once her job was complete. A few seconds later, the boy from before walked in – Bakugou Katsuki, Izuku remembered correctly – dripping water onto the wooden floor of his room. Under his arm was the blanket, still mostly dry.“The hospital’s bigger than I thought,” commented Bakugou, stopping in the doorway to survey Izuku’s sparsely decorated room. “This is pretty shitty, though.”Izuku had to laugh at his honesty. “Yeah,” he admitted through his chuckles, rubbing the back of his head. “But there’s no real point in getting nice things. I’m not going to be in the sanatorium forever, after all.”Bakugou didn’t respond, though he dipped his head in acknowledgement. After a few seconds of strained silence, he walked towards the window, dropping the blanket and his rucksack at the foot of Izuku’s bed. “Shit, I really did a number on your window,” he said, crouching down to inspect the hole. “Why the fuck didn’t anyone patch it up last night? Some kind of negligence, seriously.”“It’s okay,” said Izuku passively, folding his hands in his lap. “I don’t really mind. The hospital has bigger things to deal with than my window.”The rain continued to pour down outside, and lightning illuminated the far off fields, rows upon rows of tall grass shining under the swollen storm clouds that stretched across the sky. They watched it together, silently, until the rumblings of thunder broke the quietude of the room.Abruptly, Bakugou stood up. “I’m leaving,” he said, grabbing his rucksack off the bed and slinging it over his shoulder. “See you around, Midoriya.”“You too, Bakugou-san!” yelled Izuku after his retreating back, cupping his hands around his mouth to make himself heard over the storm. “Stay safe out there!”Bakugou made no moves to suggest that he’d heard the good wishes, shutting the door behind him with a definitive thud, but Izuku liked to imagine that he had. He had the distinct feeling that Bakugou knew just as well as he did what it felt like to be left out in the cold.The next time he saw Bakugou Katsuki was nearly a week later.The skies had cleared since their last meeting and now the heat was back in full force, shining with renewed vehemence. Izuku had spent the past two nights and the morning in and out of consciousness, feverish and hacking up blood into the bucket next to his bed, but by noon he’d recovered much of his strength. He was eating rice porridge and enjoying the taste of food for the first time in several days when he heard an insistent tapping at his window and looked up to see Bakugou standing outside, the rucksack from the previous week on his back.“Yo,” he said, waving a casual hand in Izuku’s direction. “I’m coming in. Wanna fix something.”Izuku could only nod, bewildered, and continued to eat his porridge in stunned silence until the nurse knocked on his door, signaling the arrival of a visitor. Bakugou rounded the corner into his room seconds later and sank onto his knees next to the window, swinging his rucksack onto the floor.“Um… Bakugou-san?” asked Izuku hesitantly, watching him tip over the rucksack and spill what looked like cleaning supplies onto the floor. “I don’t mean to be rude—and I don’t want you to leave, not at all—but what are you doing?”Bakugou stilled, then looked over his shoulder to level a glare at Izuku. “Don’t call me that,” he grumbled, red eyes slitted in irritation. “That was my pop’s name. I’m Katsuki.” He went back to his work, then turned to Izuku and said, “I’m gonna fix up the hole, ‘cause apparently no one in this fine establishment has a clue how to care for sick people.”Izuku put the bowl of porridge down on the nightstand next to his bed, and swung his weak legs over the side, dangling them in midair as he observed Bakugou—Katsuki, he reminded himself, blushing slightly at the informality of the name—work. He was diligent as he layered rows of thick tape on top of the hole, eyes trained intently on the jagged edges of the broken glass. His hands, ripping the tape into sections and flattening them over the grooves in the window, were broad and callused, strengthened by years of working in the fields.Looking down at his own hands, Izuku couldn’t help but frown. They’d once been similar to Katsuki’s in appearance, tough and sun-warmed, but after years of being in the hospital, they’d lost almost all of their colour and definition. Now, like the rest of him, they had deteriorated until there was almost nothing of them left.“C’mere, Midoriya,” said Katsuki, reaching down to tear off another strip of tape, “I could use another pair of hands helping me out.”With a smile that bordered on teasing, Izuku replied, “Don’t call me Midoriya, Katsuki-san. That was my father’s name. I go by Izuku.”Though Katsuki didn’t look at him, Izuku could sense his eye roll even without seeing his face. “Whatever the fuck your name is, I need your help,” he said. “Get your ass over here.”Izuku sat there for a few moments contemplating what he should do next. He hadn’t tried to do anything on his feet for a long time, but watching Bakugou work had definitely inspired him to at least give it a shot. Shaking out his legs, he warned, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to. My walking is… not as good as it used to be.”He scooted over to the edge of the bed, setting his bare feet down on the wooden floor. Once they were firmly planted on the ground, he took a deep breath and pushed himself off the mattress with his hands, forearms shaking with the effort. Though it took him a few more seconds to get his bearings, he managed to stay standing and shot a smile Katsuki’s way as he slowly but surely walked towards where he was sitting. Katsuki didn’t smile back, but there was begrudging admiration in the set of his mouth when Izuku sat down next to him, wobbly legs and all.They repaired the window side-by-side, and when the task was done, Katsuki sat back on his haunches to examine their work. “Not bad, Izuku,” he said, stretching his arm forwards to poke the red tape. “Not bad at all.”A flush rose high in Izuku’s cheeks. No one except his mom and other family members had ever called him by his first name without an honorific, and hearing Katsuki address him so casually sent an excited shiver down his spine. “You basically did everything,” he said, looking over Katsuki’s shoulder at the now patched-up hole.Katsuki shrugged and started shoving supplies back into his rucksack. “Doesn’t really matter,” he said, getting to his feet once everything was inside. “I’m leaving. I gotta go back to school.”“Okay,” said Izuku, grabbing onto the windowsill to haul himself into a standing position. “But… Katsuki-san. If you ever want to come back ... I’ll be here. Y’know?”Glancing at Izuku over his shoulder, Katsuki nodded. “I know,” he said, corners of his mouth quirking up before he exited the room.
Over the next month, Katsuki visited sporadically. He would come three times a week, pitching his baseball into the bushes outside Izuku’s window and occasionally making conversation about the goings on in Japan, then disappear for over a week. Without explanation he would reappear, and things would carry on as if nothing had happened.Izuku’s eighteenth birthday came and went without fanfare. His mom had shown up with cupcakes and a new book, but the implication of her presents – that he wouldn’t be around on New Year’s to celebrate like everyone else – was more discouraging than heartening, and by the time she left, Izuku wished she hadn’t come at all. He loved his mom more than anything, but he found himself wishing that she’d stay away more often than not. She didn’t deserve to see him like this, wasting away in a hospital bed, unable to be the son he’d once been for her.On the cool afternoon of July fifteenth, Katsuki visited again. It was a boring day that Izuku had spent reading the novel his mom had bought when Hajime let him in, winking per usual in Izuku’s direction before she left. She shut the door behind Katsuki once he was inside the room, leaving the two of them staring at each other in uncomfortable silence.“Hello, Katsuki-san,” said Izuku, marking his place in the book before he put it down on his bedspread. “It’s been a while.”“Yeah,” said Katsuki, shifting his gaze away from Izuku’s. He was leaning heavily on his left leg, Izuku noticed, and was dressed in his school’s winter uniform. The sleeves came up a little bit above his wrist, the bottom of the shirt barely skimming his pants, and Izuku realised with an uncomfortable jolt that it was last year’s uniform.“Are—do you want to sit down?” asked Izuku, moving over to make room for Katsuki on the bed. “The weather’s gotten worse recently. I hope you don’t get a cold from walking so far from your school.”Katsuki snorted, but sat down next to Izuku anyways. “It’s barely any distance,” he said, lacing his fingers together in his lap. “I’m not gonna get a cold. You might, though. Thank god I took the time to close up the hole in your window, hah?”Laughing softly, Izuku shook his head. “Yeah, but you caused the problem in the first place,” he chided, nudging Katsuki’s arm with his own.“Fuck off,” grumbled Katsuki, shoving Izuku’s hand away. “It was an accident, dumbass.”Izuku grinned at him. It was unusual for Katsuki to be in such good spirits, and while he understood that he was trying to cover up whatever was on his arms with a long-sleeved shirt, it was nice to see him joking around anyways.Searching for something to do, Katsuki looked around the room until his eyes settled on the plaid blanket at the foot of the bed. “You kept that thing?” he scoffed, wrinkling his nose. “It’s nasty. You should’ve just fed it to the termites.”“I couldn’t,” said Izuku gently. “It was a gift, Katsuki-san. It means more to me than you can imagine.”Neither of them said anything, then. They sat, watching at the blanket, until Katsuki rose to his feet a few minutes later. “Gotta go home,” he mumbled, ignoring Izuku’s crestfallen expression. “See you ar—”“Please stay,” interrupted Izuku, reaching out for his shirtsleeve. “Please, Katsuki-san. I can tell something’s wrong. I don’t… I know we’re not that close, but I can’t let you leave like this.”Katsuki tore his sleeve away from Izuku’s grip. “Get the fuck off me,” he said, backing up towards the door.“I’m only trying to help you,” tried Izuku again, tucking his arms back by his side, “so please just—““What do you think you can do to stop me?” hissed Katsuki. “You can barely even get out of bed. Do you really fucking think you could keep me here?”Izuku closed his eyes. He knew Katsuki didn’t mean what he was saying – his friend’s temper and brash attitude had always been there, ready to lash out at any moment – but it didn’t make hearing the vindictive words any less painful. “I know I can’t,” he said plainly, opening his eyes to look into Katsuki’s. “And I don’t want to force you to do anything. I’m asking you as your friend, Katsuki-san, to stay here and tell me what’s happening.”Katsuki had the decency to look ashamed when he halted in the doorway. “Shit,” he said, turning on his heel to return to Izuku’s bedside. “I didn’t mean to say that shit, Izuku, I just… I’m fucking tired.” He didn’t go back to sit on the bed but he lingered by the nightstand, neither leaving nor settling down. “Ever since my old man kicked the bucket my mom makes me do all this shit and with baseball practice added onto that I don’t have any fucking time. I hate this fucking town, and I—I wanna get out, y’know?”“Yeah,” said Izuku, eyes drifting to the bloody tissues in the bin next to his bed. “I know.”Katsuki followed his gaze, turning away when he realised what Izuku was looking at. “I guess you would,” he muttered. “Jesus.”“The work you do, for your mom—do you get hurt doing it?” asked Izuku, changing the subject. His illness wasn’t something that they’d ever discussed before, and though he knew Katsuki was aware of it, he didn’t want to bring it up if he didn’t have to. “I don’t mean to pry, but I was wondering why you’re wearing your winter uniform. Are there… bruises, maybe?”Glancing down at his covered arms, Katsuki laughed. “Nah,” he said. “These’re from fucking baseball. Suzuki-sensei works us all to the fucking bone. I wore my winter uniform so my ma wouldn’t see.” He scowled, and added bitterly, “She wants me to quit so I can be a fucking farmer like my deadbeat dad.”“I can understand that,” said Izuku, grimacing down at his sheets. “My dad left when I was a child, but my mom wanted me to be in the Navy just like he was. Obviously that plan didn’t work out.”“No shit,” said Katsuki. The words stung, but his tone wasn’t unkind.The sun was setting above the hospital. Katsuki walked towards the window and sat there, watching the sky turn red and pink and orange, until the sun was out of sight altogether. Izuku, from the bed, watched Katsuki.He didn’t know whether the boy or the sunset was more beautiful.The final time they met, it was rainy. August brought with it intense heat and rain, and with the ever changing weather came many challenges. Summer was always a dangerous time for Izuku – the heat made him dehydrated and worsened his cough, and the rain brought with it colds, which were even more perilous for Izuku’s health. The doctors had been visiting his room more frequently as of late, bringing with them as many medicines and soothers as they possibly could. His mom also spent most of her time in his room, doting on him with expensive foods and new books.He wasn’t stupid. He knew what the increased attention meant, understood that it didn’t bode well for him. Everyone around Izuku was preparing for him to die.When Katsuki came by on the twentieth during one of his bouts of frequent visitation, Izuku knew he had to tell him what was going to happen. But with every minute that passed by of Katsuki sitting on his bed ranting about baseball, his determination to talk about their future dwindled. They did absolutely nothing for hours, splayed out on the bed, and for the first time in his life Izuku prayed for more time. He would be satisfied with his miserable existence if he had even a year more to live. It was too cruel to deprive him of happiness so soon after letting him find it. The universe was too generous for that. It had to be.After the sun had long since set and Hajime came in for the third time to remind them that visiting hours were over, Katsuki finally stood. “My ma probably needs me,” he said. “I’ve been here for so fucking long, she might just kill me when I get home. I’ll swing by tomorrow, though.”“Wait, Katsuki-san,” said Izuku, twiddling his thumbs under his blanket. “Maybe… maybe you shouldn’t come tomorrow.”Katsuki frowned, narrowing his red eyes. “Just because you don’t give a shit about baseball doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop talking about it,” he said. “You’re just gonna hafta suffer.”“I’m being serious,” said Izuku quietly. “Please don’t come back, Katsuki-san.”Brows furrowed in confusion, Katsuki dropped back down onto the bed. “What do you mean, don’t come back?” he asked, grasping Izuku’s wrist so hard it burned.Izuku winced as Katsuki’s hands tightened their grip. “Katsuki-san, you’re hurting me,” he whimpered. “I’m not asking you for much. I… in a month, we can see each other again. I just can’t do this right now.”“Do what?” Katsuki spat, releasing Izuku’s arm like it disgusted him. “You don’t do jack fucking shit. I come here to see your fucking ass. I don’t recall you ever even having to get out of your goddamn bed.”Eyes welling with tears, Izuku massaged the red splotches on his wrist. “I’m sorry,” he said, trying desperately to stop himself from crying. “I didn’t mean to upset you. But please, Katsuki-san, don’t come back.”Katsuki rose again, hands balled into tight fists at his side. “I don’t fucking care anyways,” he said viciously. “It’s not like I actually liked spending time with you. I just felt bad that no one else ever fucking came.”Despite his best efforts Izuku was crying now, wet teardrops spilling onto his palms. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, sobbing into his open hands. “I–I didn’t mean to make you stay. I just wanted—the doctors, they—”“Fuck off,” snarled Katsuki, stalking over to the open door. “I’m not fucking coming back. Congrats, Izuku! I guess you got what you wanted anyways.” He slammed it shut behind him as hard as he could, leaving the pills on Izuku’s nightstand rattling with the force of the blow.Izuku slumped over, weeping in earnest now. Katsuki had been right—he had gotten his way. There was no way he’d be getting any visitors after how badly he’d just messed up. Even if he did live to see autumn, Katsuki would probably never return to the hospital anyways.As he continued to cry, his sobs turned into violent, hacking coughs. His eyes were blurry with tears, but he fumbled around for the tissues on his bedside table so he could limit the damage to his sheets. When he looked down, there were flecks of red and black blood on the white material. Shivering, he reached for more, barely managing to grab a handful before he was seized by another wracking cough. More blood splattered onto his pale arms and the sheets below, dark and dirty.The door to his room swung open. Hajime rushed to his side, clapping a hand over her mouth when she saw the mess Izuku had made, and she fled to fetch the resident doctor. He wanted to call after her that he was fine, but he was interrupted by another painful cough. More blood oozed in a steady trickle from his mouth, wetting his lips.Black spots danced in front of his eyes when the doctor came to his room and lifted him onto a stretcher, and by the time he was in the hallway he could no longer see. “Am I dying?” he called out into the darkness. “Have I died?”No one responded.He could vaguely hear the shouting of nurses and the squeak of wheels against the floor, but the farther away from his room they got the more faint they became, until finally he couldn’t hear anything.Then, there was silence.Katsuki ran down the dirt path, gritting his teeth. The sun was too fucking hot these days, and sweat dripped from the nape of his neck down into the collar of his shirt, but if he had any hope of reaching Izuku on time he couldn’t stop—he had to run faster yet, as fast as he possibly could. The unpleasant feeling roiling in his gut was spreading all over his fucking body, finding a home in his chest right below his goddamn heart.He’d been so fucking stupid. When he’d gotten home last night still seething from Izuku’s sudden declaration, he’d gone to his room immediately to try and sleep his anger off. It was only lying in bed, completely alone, that he realised exactly why the fuck Izuku had wanted him to stop coming. The flowers by his bedside, the mountain of medication on the nightstand, even the look in his fucking eyes when he’d told Katsuki that he needed to stay away should’ve been enough.“Faster,” he wheezed, digging his sharp nails into his palms as he went down a bend in the road. “Gotta keep going, fuck.”He was kicking up soil with every touch of his sneakers on the ground, messing up the carefully-arranged road, but he couldn’t give less of a shit. If he didn’t hurry up, then he might never see Izuku again, and he couldn’t –– he couldn’t think about that, not now, when he was so fucking close he could taste it. The hospital was in his sight now, a hazy outline against the sunset, and Izuku’s room was right there if only he ran faster.He was breathing too hard, he knew. His lungs ached, pleading for a break, but he had to keep going. Izuku was in his room, dying and alone, and if Katsuki didn’t get there on time he’d never be able to say anything to him ever again. He’d never get to explain what he’d meant by it—by any of it—and that’d be it. Katsuki heard the way his mom cried into her pillow at night, begging for her husband to return even years after he’d fucking died, and he resented it. There was no communication with the dead around these parts.Once Izuku was gone, he’d be fucking gone.The sanatorium got larger in his field of vision, and Izuku’s window was right there, red tape still plastered onto the broken glass. It was stark against the swirling colours of the sunset, a black smudge on the hazy oranges and purples of the receding sun. Maybe in another life Katsuki would’ve stopped to admire it, but now he couldn’t, because Izuku was dying. And that’s all there was to it.Everything was going too fast now. The closer he got to the hospital, the more nauseating the sky became. He couldn’t focus on what was in front of him – his body was pulling him down, muscles aching – but he couldn’t stop, not when he was so close. Almost there, he thought, turning the final bend around the brush. Almost. Almost. The window was right fucking there, and the lights were on – ghostly and fluorescent, sure, but they were fucking on. That meant something, he was sure of it.The road, which had seemed to stretch on forever, ended. The side of the hospital loomed large, but it was a sight Katsuki was accustomed to, and he was glad to see it for once in his fucking life.He strode up to the window, fist poised to knock, when his heart stuttered in his chest. The room was empty. Izuku’s bed was vacant, sheets pristine, and the blanket that he’d kept at its foot – Katsuki's father’s blanket that his ma had tossed out, the one she’d screamed she never wanted to see again – was missing from its usual place.“No,” he breathed out, bringing a hand to brush up against the glass. “No, that’s impossible, he…”He shook his head, ignoring the heavy thumps of his heart against his chest, and ran to the front doors. The sign on the door – Welcome! We hope you enjoy your stay! in cheery yellow letters – taunted him. Katsuki wondered whether Izuku had ever had the same thought, standing in front of the sanatorium with all his luggage, as he pushed the doors open and entered the lobby.Everything looked the same. The receptionist sat at her desk, long fingernails tapping steadily against the wood, hair pulled back into the severe bun she wore every day Katsuki visited. People milled about in the waiting room, chattering softly, and the dopey images of happy and healthy kids were still stuck onto the walls. It wouldn’t be like that if Izuku had died – things wouldn’t just keep going, they couldn’t, in the absence of someone as special as he was. When someone like that left the world, people fucking felt that shit.“I need to see Midoriya Izuku,” he said, all quiet-like, as he approached the desk. The receptionist didn’t acknowledge what he’d said – stupid bitch probably hadn’t heard – so he banged his hand on the wood. She jumped in her seat, eyes lifting from whatever book she’d had hiding in her lap, and stared at him in disbelief. Stupid cunt probably wasn’t used to being forced to do her job.“I need to see Midoriya Izuku,” Katsuki repeated, voice low and threatening. “Right now.”The receptionist stared blankly until cognizance washed over her face. “I’m sorry,” she said, eyes darting between Katsuki’s fist and his face, fear creeping into her tone. “Midoriya-san has vacated the sanatorium. His mother came to collect all his personal effects not one hour ago.”“What the fuck do you mean vacated the sanatorium?” he said, taking another step towards the receptionist. The casual conversation in the waiting room had died out, and people were muttering amongst themselves now as they watched the scene before them unfold. Katsuki could feel their stares on his back, and he wanted to turn around and tell them how fucking wrong they were, how undeserving to even hear Izuku’s name every single fucking one of them sitting there was.“Please step back, sir,” said the receptionist nervously, holding her hands in front of her chest as if to push Katsuki away from her. “I meant that Midoriya-san… Midoriya-san passed away last night. His body and his personal effects were taken by his mother.”Katsuki’s ears were ringing. The receptionist’s words blurred together. Midoriya-san passed away last night .“I—” he started clutching onto the deske. His stomach was churning; straining desperately against fear's cold grip, his heart writhed in his chest. he raced out of the sanatorium before he could finish whatever he’d been trying to say. The receptionist yelled something in his direction, but he didn't care; there was nothing she could say that would matter to him now.
Midoriya-san passed away last night. Midoriya-san passed away last night. Midoriya-san passed away—
Katsuki stooped over in front of the main entrance, bile rising in his throat. Midoriya-san passed away last night. It'd been late by the time Katsuki left his side; he'd snuck back into his bedroom just after midnight curfew had rolled around. How long had it taken for Izuku to die after that? How long was Izuku lying alone in bed with all those lies Katsuki'd spat at him, vitriolic and bitter, festering inside, thinking that he didn’t give half a shit? At some point hot tears had begun to drip down his face without his having noticed. God, he hadn’t cried in years—not since his father had first left for China—but once he started he couldn’t stopper them back up. Numb legs buckling beneath him, he crumpled to his knees and sobbed.
Midoriya-san passed away last night.
It was so fucking unfair that what little time they'd had was already slipping away. His memory of their first day—the face that had peered out at him from the shattered window, the quiet voice he'd strained to hear over the cicadas—had already begun to fade.Screwing his eyes shut, he forced himself to dwell in the world of imagination, trying to burn the vague impressions into his mind, but it was no use: the glass was too thick to make out Izuku's face properly. He knew, then, that this blurry phantom was all he had left—that this would be his last opportunity to see Izuku as he'd been in life before he'd be shrouded in the fog of recollection. A desperate need to call out to him, to make him hear the shameful words Katsuki could no longer swallow, swelled within him. He didn't fight it; his reservations no longer mattered, not anymore, not here. If he didn’t speak now, he’d never be able to.Katsuki opened his eyes. Up in sky, he could see that the stars had begun to take shape, freckling the darkness; they spilled past anything his eyes follow, into the great beyond. Under their watch, he prayed that something—some greater power, maybe, or Izuku himself—was out there, and said, “I love you.”It was as natural as breathing.