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Katsuki taught him that being a hero means preparing for the worst and hoping for the best.
At nineteen, freshly graduated, ready to tackle another heavy situation where the chances of success were slim; Eijirou hadn’t really thought of it that way before.
He was nervous- trying to hide it- but still hardly breathing without each exhale stuttering between his lips.
Then came a hard slap on his back. A warm, sticky palm landing on his bare spine and shocking his senses with visceral excitement.
“Prepare for the worst,” He looked up and found Katsuki staring at the scene in front of them with his wild grin and fervor behind his eyes. “Hope for the best.”
They pulled out a victory for the books that day. Amateur heroes slapping down another set of headlines to solidify their place in the city. A successful capture, astounding rates of rescue, little destruction- The best had been a pipedream, but somehow, it happened.
And so, those little words became something Eijirou lived by. Something hastily spoken from a brash, determined boy that probably hadn’t thought anything of it. Hadn’t considered that Eijirou would take them to heart.
Time and time again, year after year, he repeated those words in his head until he believed them.
Prepare for the worst.
Hope for the best.
But what was he to tell himself when the worst was happening and the best was nothing more than a plea for a single breath?
Civilians cleared out, the area secured, it was just the two of them nestled in the bottom floor of an empty building. Somewhere, somewhere, above them sat their target- a villain- some homicidal maniac who’d chosen to run and trap himself and just wait to be caught.
They couldn’t get close to him- he’d proven that much- anyone who’d tried had left the scene closer to death than either of them would like to be-
Except Katsuki he supposed-
At least that’s what he thought when his husband decided their only option was to bring the building down from the inside.
Eijirou fought him, of course he would, but Katsuki was adamant. They couldn’t do it from outside because the trajectory was all wrong and he needed to be sure they got the guy. And once Katsuki had made his mind up about a strategy, there wasn’t any going back.
Eijirou promised he could guard them. There wasn’t another way. As long as Katsuki did it correctly, he could handle the loose concrete that would inevitably tumble down.
He’d always wanted them to be a team. In every sense of the word. But this seemed to almost take that too far.
He calculated it fifty times over in his head. He knew the way Katsuki would bring it down, the way the foundation would shift, and just how he’d have to move to make sure they’d both be safe.
For once, he wasn’t scared. Maybe it was Katsuki’s assured smile and the courage in his stare- whatever it was lured Eijirou into believing the best would always happen as long as he was mentally prepared for the worst.
So, he let him do it.
Let him point his hands and let loose a dazzling show of flames and sparks that had the building shuddering and groaning around them.
And then it crumbled. Fast and oh so wrong. The ground shifted first instead of the ceiling. The foundation must’ve been compromised- they were sinking into the earth and the walls were cracking around them before the rest of the building was even affected. A few floors would break, but the rest of the structure would be fine and it would flatten the rubble like someone slipped a card out of the stack and let the rest fall to take its place.
They realized it all at once- could barely share a horrified glance before Katsuki was trying to escape.
There wasn’t enough time for that. He knew that. Surely, he wasn’t panicking. They’d planned to stay put and take the brunt of what fell as the walls tumbled away- but could they handle the weight of an entire building- could he handle that?
He didn’t have a choice.
Katsuki took one step before Eijirou got a hold on his wrist and jerked him back. He pushed, shoved Katsuki to the floor and fell on top of him as soon as clumps of concrete began to drop. Hands and knees, he hovered over him and tensed as every bit of skin turned sharp and durable.
Katsuki knew what to do. Make himself as small as possible beneath Eijirou’s larger frame. Make sure everything was kept under his shadow and try to stay as relaxed as possible just in case.
He knew what to do. He did everything right. But that wasn’t always enough.
Katsuki knew what to do, but Eijirou knew the moment it all failed them.
Knew from the way the rubble slammed into his back.
Knew from the way smoke and dust assaulted his lungs as he heaved in breaths.
Knew from the way a brutal scream made his ears ring.
He’d never heard that scream before.
He’d heard dozens, maybe hundreds, of screams over the years, but never that one. One so familiar but still shockingly different. Something so raw and agonizing that he knew it was bad. Worse than bad. The worst thing he’d ever heard couldn’t be anywhere close to as docile as bad .
It was long and scratching at the debris around them but then faded fast and left Eijirou to suffer in the quiet of settling rubble and distant sirens.
There was a small pocket around them- just enough to move without being suffocated- just enough to survive until they were uncovered.
Eijirou didn’t want to lift up. Didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to know. But his instincts pulled at him and called for him to soften, push onto his arms, move the wreckage enough to get a look below him.
It was hazy when he willed his eyes to open. It was dark beneath the crash but he was close enough, familiar enough, to know Katsuki’s features even if it was the dead of night.
Katsuki’s face was lax, blood dripping down his cheek from a split brow and the world stilled.
He didn’t want to, but he had to.
Before anything else, Eijirou leaned down and put his ear to Katsuki’s chest. He had to know- had to make sure- had to decide how fucked up things had become- had to-
The subtle thump beneath muscle and bone was the prettiest sound he’d ever known. One he’d listened to countless times. Katsuki mocked him and brushed him off when all he wanted to do was lay in bed with his head down to listen to the quiet drum of a heartbeat.
Didn’t he know it was the only song Eijirou ever cared to hear?
He stayed there, pressed into him, hanging onto each little bump under his ear. He couldn’t bring himself to determine what has caused such a horrible noise- or what led the strongest person he knew to fall unconscious in its wake. He’d seen Katsuki lively and hurling insults with a spike lodged in his side, or his wrist turned wrong, or his skin split open. Whatever it had been- it was worse than all the things he’d seen rolled up into one blow. It could wait. It didn’t matter as long as Katsuki stayed with him and his chest continued to sing.
Eijirou didn’t move. Not until the rubble was cleared and the paramedics pried his stiff, stressed, panicked body away. Only then did he see the gravity of what had unfolded.
He was supposed to be calm in moments of danger and tragedy. But this wasn’t some nameless person clinging to him and wailing. This was the man of his dreams, his heart and soul, his happiness and past and future and this was someone he’d never seen look so broken.
Face cut up, clothes ripped and singed, skin paling- had he done that- none of it compared to what was freed by the men lifting the concrete away. Clump after clump tossed to the side, they uncovered the mangled, red, crooked limb beneath.
Skin, blood, bone-
The contents of Eijirou’s stomach joined the wreckage soon after.
He didn’t look again.
The doctors delivered their news like Katsuki was dying. Eijirou would never admit it, but he definitely let his composure slip in that moment.
It was an arm- someone could live without an arm- how dare they even make him think for a second his world was ending.
If Mina hadn’t stormed down the hall of an otherwise quiet hospital and ripped him away from the hold he had on the crisp collar of the doctor’s coat, he wasn’t sure how it would have ended.
“Eijirou,”
The wheeze of his name through a staticky haze of sleep made Eijirou sit up. He rubbed at his face quickly to catch sight of Katsuki’s eyes trailing up from the wrapped skin below his shoulder to Eijirou’s exhausted worry. His brows were close together, eyes searching for the answer Eijirou didn’t know if he could speak.
“Where the fuck is my arm?”
For the first time, Eijirou broke.
There’d been only a crack when it happened- and when they drove Katsuki to the hospital in the back of an ambulance with Eijirou hovering beside him- and when Eijirou had first come into the room after the surgery was done and there were bandages all over him and a stark lack of an appendage off his left side-
But every crack added up until he crumbled under a tired, confused glare.
“Kat-” He tried to stand but melted to the floor and scrambled on his knees towards the bedside. “I’m sorry.” His forehead hit the sheets, wetness smearing against stiff white. “I’m so sorry- I- I couldn’t- I didn’t -”
A soft thunk of a fist to the top of his head stopped him. “Hey,” Katsuki’s fist uncurled into fingers sifting through messy, unwashed red. He swallowed around thick lethargy and tried again. “I don’t wanna hear that shit.”
His head shook more, shuddering breaths leaving a heavy chest. “Katsuki, I’m-”
Katsuki took hold on his hair, twisted his fingers up in the strands and yanked until Eijirou had no choice but to look up at him. He was blurry through beading tears, but Eijirou could imagine every one of Katsuki’s expressions on the back of his eyelids if he tried.
He tugged, hard and deliberate. “Never give me a fuckin’ apology like that ever again.” When Eijirou stayed still and silent, he pulled again and hissed, “Y’hear me?” Eijirou nodded against his grip, trying desperately to blink the tears away. “You’re with me through hell and back- I don’t wanna see this kinda bullshit from you.” Releasing Eijirou’s hair, he huffed back into the propped-up pillows and stared at a muted television screen in the corner of the ceiling. “Just tell me what happened.”
“Okay-”
The euphoria of being alive above all else was invigorating but fizzled fast. It screamed like boiling water hitting the stove but disappeared into the air all the same. The reality behind disaster settled heavy on their shoulders and weighed down more and more with each day they tried to ignore it.
Forced time off. Forced therapy. Forced communication.
They started fighting more than either of them were used to. Between small squabbles about meaningless things and large shouting matches filled with shattered plates and silent cleanups, neither knew what to do.
But no matter how mad they were or what set them off or where they ended up, Katsuki never once blamed him for anything.
Eijirou kind of wished he would.
Then maybe he’d understand.
As the weeks went, things got better again. The nightmares stopped. Katsuki worked with their support staff to build a prosthetic fit to his high standards. Their life returned to a new normal. And slowly, little by little, their arguments dwindled.
If it wasn’t for the quiet that took the place of fighting, Eijirou might have been okay.
He had never liked quiet. It was difficult in the beginning of their relationship once Eijirou realized that on his own, away from his crass yelling and opinionated commands, Katsuki could be a very quiet person. Once alone, he settled into thinking to himself and leaving little room for actually speaking. Normally, he didn’t mind if Eijirou picked up the slack and talked his fill. It rarely bothered either of them. Eijirou couldn’t even care all that much if Katsuki didn’t respond past his grunts and shrugs. As long as he let him keep the silence at bay.
But after the incident, Katsuki’s wire-thin tolerance shortened that much more. He became terse- as brusque and impatient as he was with people he didn’t care to be around. He’d cut Eijirou off, tell him to just be quiet for a fucking minute, make Eijirou’s jaw shut fast with a smash of his teeth and a clack of stunned dejection.
Eijirou didn’t know what to do. Things were miserable. Soon enough, everyone saw it. They’d ask him if he was okay, if Katsuki was okay, if they were okay- and he’d nod and smile and tell them they were simply still working through what happened.
He could only use an excuse so long before it started sounding like the lie it truly was.
Maybe he should’ve told someone, maybe talking it out would have helped him understand. Keeping everything to himself was never something he was good at, but the only person he wanted to talk to had become so closed off he barely even knew how to say hello anymore.
Steam was pouring from the bathroom when Eijirou arrived home one afternoon.
Passing through the hall toward the bedroom, something caught the corner of his vision and made him turn toward the open door.
There he was. Eijirou’s tenacious, obstinate spitfire, seated in the floor. Propped up against the counter. His body, bare. His eyes, low but open and staring ahead. The prosthetic lay bent and lifeless in his lap as it hung half-detached from his shoulder.
Eijirou’s presence was acknowledged by a mutter just above the roar of the shower.
“Get it offa me, yeah?”
Eijirou stepped closer, reaching out but curling his fingers in the air and bringing them back to his chest a moment later. “Mei said you can get it wet.”
“I know.”
Eijirou crouched down, working through the routine of unhooking the limb from the base stitched into his shoulder. “It’s easier if you wait for me to get home.”
“I know.”
Arm finally off and cradled against his chest, Eijirou stood. “I really don’t mind.”
“I know.”
“I’ll help you anytime you need, so if you’ll just-”
“Yeah I fucking got it!” Katsuki’s shout crackled between them. They both flinched at the ache it left behind. Heads falling, jaws grinding, both became victims to the unease. “ Sorry- ” Quick and hushed but sincere. “I know. You’re trying to help. Just take that thing away and leave me alone.”
Avoiding a fight, avoiding a ruined evening, avoiding everything he shouldn’t, Eijirou turned and went.
He was ready to sulk back into their bedroom and carry on like he wasn’t hurt by the tone or the words. But stepping over the threshold from wood to soft carpet, the things piling up in the pit of his chest seemed to burst. Every slight and snap and insult felt like it was coming up his throat and suffocating him.
So, he set the limb atop the dresser before turning on his heels and making his way right back into the bathroom.
Katsuki was already in the shower, the heat fogging up the glass and the water trickling down to cut lines in front of a blurry shape.
Deep breath in, Eijirou gripped the door handle and slid it open with enough of a push to make it clatter in the frame.
Katsuki flinched, putting his back to the wall and an arm curled against his chest. “Ei, what the hell -”
“Fuck you.”
It isn’t what he meant to start with in the slightest, but it stopped the demand for him to leave in turn for a barked accusation.
“Really? That’s what's so important to say to me right now? Can’t you just-”
“I was there too.” Katsuki closed his mouth again but this time his brows dipped and crinkled together in frustration. “You realize that, right?”
“What’s your fucking problem here? I told you to leave me alone.”
“What are you doing? Why won’t you talk to me?” Katsuki looked confused and angry. Never a good place for him to be. It was only a matter of moments before he lashed out to gain some footing. Eijirou couldn’t let that happen or it’d all be over and they’d continue down this path that only ended in one of them giving up. And he wouldn’t dare think about that. So, he pushed towards something dangerous, almost cruel, but necessary- “It’s gone, Kat. Your arm’s gone, okay? And it’s never coming back. So talk to me about it- yell at me about it if you gotta- I just want you to show me that you still care. I can’t take this weird distance anymore. This isn’t us. This isn’t how we’ve dealt with shit. You don’t get to hide things from me. You have to come to terms with what we went through.”
“What we-? ” Panic settled in fast with wide eyes and bared teeth and Eijirou was surprised he hadn’t gotten punched yet. “Who the fuck are you to-”
“You don’t think it fucked me up too?” He hated talking like this. “If I had moved a little faster-” He wanted to hug him and whisper that everything was going to be okay, but that isn’t what would work. “If I held on a little longer- or moved different- shit- maybe I coulda helped you.” For the worst things, the things Katsuki never wanted to acknowledge let alone address, it took shock and force to get him to open his damn eyes for a moment and realize he didn’t always have to do everything by himself.
“I hold so much regret and I haven’t been able to talk about any of it because I know- okay? I know it’s not the same. I can’t say I understand, but- you’ve been mean lately. And not your normal level of rough affection covered up by hollow little threats- you’ve been really fucking mean to me. You’re avoiding me. Pushing me away. Acting like you hate me.” There was water hitting him in the face- maybe it was tears- maybe it was blood seeping from wounds in his memories that he felt would never heal. “I’m over trying to act like seeing you like this doesn’t get to me. Or that I’m okay letting this ruin us. What happened was fucked up and I’m sorry but-”
“But nothing!” Feet squeaking against the wet tile, Katsuki finally broke and shoved him back. He came charging out while pouring every bit of fire left in his chest out through the scratch of his temper and the frightened scorn of his glare. “You don’t get to tell me how to handle any of this.”
“But you’re not handling it!”
A loose fist came swiftly, ready to knock into whatever it could reach; but Eijirou caught it by the wrist. It was wonted defense, physical expression before anything else. But as anticipated as it was, the gesture still hurt more than the punch ever would have.
He thought they were past that.
“You can’t keep pretending you’re fine.” Katsuki tried to yank his hand away, but he only managed to twist it before Eijirou held on tighter. “You don’t have to be okay. You shouldn’t be. But you have to accept that it happened in order to move on-”
“I’m trying!” His arm jerked, not with an attempt to get away, more so just to jostle Eijirou into stopping. There was fury still in his throat, but his gaze had fallen and his shoulders trembled. He was breaking. Push more, and the cracks would become too deep to fill. Eijirou loosened his hold and Katsuki stilled if only for a moment. “I get it. I’m not fuckin’ stupid. I’ll talk when I’m damn well ready.”
“Will you?”
In lieu of an answer, Katsuki stepped swiftly. Wet skin slipped out of Eijirou’s grasp and opened the way for an escape toward the bedroom.
Katsuki caught himself in the doorway with the smack of his palm against the frame. Dripping and ripped open came the whisper things he only let out when Eijirou’s back was turned.
“You givin’ up on me that easy?”
Out of sight, his voice was brittle. It was fragile in a way that never sat right for either of them.
“No.” Eijirou answered without the slightest tell of doubt.
“Then don’t talk like you are.” Head cocking with a strain down his neck, Eijirou shut his eyes and let himself hunch forward. “All this other shit,” Katsuki’s inhale skipped over his tongue. He swallowed it down with an audible tremble to his sigh back out. “I'll get over it. But that-”
“I won’t.”
Soon, all that was left in Katsuki’s place was a chilling shift in the air. Behind him dragged the tie woven around their fingers and throats that tickled and tugged for Eijirou to follow. He wanted to grab it, reel Katsuki back, squeeze every bit of pain and grief out of him. But in the wake of the storm, Eijirou stood calm. He took his time trying to shove shattered pieces together long enough to tape them up and make them pretty.
He knew their recovery wasn’t linear.
There were good days. Days where their smiles felt like breathing again.
Just as many days that meant nothing at all. Hollow days. Days that seemed to drag and rip at his insides-
But the fight was there too. Finally, the tension felt better than the quiet.
As long as cut up fingers could still pinch them close and wrap them in gauze, there would be hope that one day they would set again.
One day, they would heal.
For now, he would be strong enough for them both.