𝔸 𝔾𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕎𝕒𝕤 𝕆𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕖 𝕍.𝟚 💥𝔹𝕜𝔻𝕜💥

Chapter 9

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Until We Meet Again

Katsuki stood before door 425, his hands trembling like he had a damn earthquake inside him. Aizawa's words, a cold reality check, echoed in his mind—he was no longer sedated, but there was a high probability Izuku would remain unconscious. The medical staff were encouraging friends to visit him, to try to stir Izuku from the coma. Katsuki had been dodging this hospital visit for a solid two weeks, but now, whether he liked it or not, he had no choice.

Yet there he fucking stood, feeling like some invisible force was clinging to him, a suffocating shadow threatening to consume him whole. From the moment the sterile scent of the hospital invaded his senses, it triggered a surge of anxiety. Instantly causing the skin on the back of his neck to prickle, sending a shiver slithering down his spine. Why the hell was it so damn difficult to step inside?

Quit being such a fucking pussy. He growled internally, attempting to psych himself up. He needed to bulldoze through the doubts and fears. Taking a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, Katsuki reached for the doorknob, gradually swinging the door open.

The room, once he crossed the threshold, held an eerie silence, only punctuated by the rhythmic machine beeps that seized Katsuki's attention. He slipped inside, making sure the door closed gently. The space felt hollow, void of life except for Izuku lying there, or rather what was left of him.

There were only two bodies in the room, still, it felt as if only one held a soul.

Katsuki took in the room, aside from the monstrous life support systems, there was a lone chair by the bed, a small table near a sizable window, as well as medical charts on the wall detailing the concoctions dripping through Izuku's IV. Katsuki's crimson eyes scanned the room and unlike his own room, where vibrant get-well cards and colorful flowers had filled every available surface, this room was bare and sterile. No signs of warmth, no flicker of hope. It was as if the room itself refused to acknowledge any optimism. The emptiness of it all didn't sit right with him.

Katsuki approached the bed with cautious steps, his boots making faint sounds against the polished floor, each step feeling heavier than the last, feeling the shadow's almost insidious presence. If shadows could laugh, it'd be having a field day at his expense. He could almost hear the sinister cackling, mocking the way he nearly squirmed in discomfort.

His throat bobbed, a conscious effort to suppress the nervousness slowly sinking its fangs into him. Weakness was not an option. He hammered that mantra in his mind over and over again as he clenched his fists and squared his jaw—he had to be strong, dammit.

Near Izuku's bedside, Katsuki couldn't shake the sickening coil in his gut. Horror gripped him as he faced the reality of Izuku's broken body. The warmth, the vibrancy that he had hated so much... was gone. Sinking into the seat, Katsuki's gaze fixated on the stitches that ran from his temple to the back of his partially shaved head. What was left of his pale green hair clung to his thin face, stark against the deep purple bruises that surrounded his sunken eyes. Katsukicould only stare, stare at the damage done to Izuku. How the hell could someone who'd been so full of life become little more than a corpse?

Staring at him, Katsuki tried to recall what he looked like before the accident. Memories flooded in, echoes of their laughter resonated in his ears, remnants of a time when they were carefree kids running through fields, chasing bugs, and playing heroes. The innocence of their youth twined with the rustle of leaves in the forest, a distant echo of a time before everything changed. But the scene shifted, transforming into a classroom where Izuku now lay on the floor, someone standing over him with a menacing grin.