Pervert Academy

This was Never

sfw, katsudeku sadfic.

The room was sterile. Faux lemon plugged Izuku's nose as he held his breath, feeling as if breathing would break the quiescence. After all, the only sounds in the air were soft, mechanical hums and beeping of machinery.

The drapes were white, with morning light hinting through them, but the room was dark. Synthetic light shone through the other window, the one behind him. He didn't want it. He didn't want to accept the truth laying before him. The reason why he came with clenched fists and knots in his stomach was not something he wanted to face, yet he willed his beaten gym shoes forward.

He sits down in a chair, next to the pristine white sheets, and held his breath.

Cement filled his shoes and his throat, feeling heavy and thick. This wasn't supposed to happen. He shouldn't be here. Katsuki shouldn't be here.

Izuku was glad that Katsuki was asleep. He would've made fun of the fat tears rolling down his cheeks in Ghibli fashion. There should've been hope still. Even the slimmest chance was worth perusing.

And yet, he cries. Izuku already starting to mourn the loss he hadn't had yet.

The artificial calm is broken with a raspy voice,"What are you doing here, idiot?" Katsuki demands.

Izuku fumbles to wipe his face, not wanting Katsuki to see his pity. "I wanted to see you."

"Nothin' much left to see. Hope you're disappointed, Deku." Each word was spoken deliberately, showing Katsuki's weakness. That's all he was now.

Argument dies in Izuku's throat. There really wasn't much. Katsuki looked drained and pale, half his body bandaged.

The risk of hero work never fully sunk in. They were all young and invincible, evading death with ease, injuries nothing to worry about. Even after seeing Toshinori's decline and... what happened to Ragdoll, to Tensei, it never felt real. Never felt like it would happen.

Katsuki lays on a hospital bed with an expiration date as they speak. As they breathe, Katsuki's dying.

This was never.

Izuku sat next to him, the chair with an awkward comfort to it. Plush, but just as sterile and impersonal as everything else in the room.

"Go. You know you don't wanna be here, shithead. I...," he sighs," I don't know what else you want from me."

Izuku looks down at the ground.

"You fuckin' won. Mr. Top Hero, Deku! Want me to use my last breath to worship your cock while I'm at it?"

"I thought... I thought we made up."

"We did. That was before you decided to saunter up here daily, like. Fuck I get it I'm gonna kick the bucket pretty damn soon. Or is this a publicity stunt? Deku... steadfast friend to Explodokill till the end."

"No! I just," Izuku sighs, unsure of what or if he should say what he's been wanting to for the past three years. "I'm not gloating, or pitying you. Might seem revolutionary, since that seems to be all I do in your eyes. I won't lie. Me coming here is selfish."

"Didn't have to tell me that." Izuku ignored the comment. Instead he reaches out for Katsuki's hand- which... for the first time he takes.

They don't say anything, but the small gesture is enough. Izuku rubs gentle circles into Katsuki's hand, their breathing and machinery filling the air.

This isn't pity. This isn't grief either. It was the calm before a gentle summer storm that left everyone hot, sticky, and uncomfortable, with a weight that didn't seem to lift with the humidity. Izuku knew, so did Katsuki. They both knew and didn't say anything, silence being safe, rounded scissors and kneepads. No risk.