I Will Never Find Another You {Kiribaku - BNHA}

in my dreams, my memory

Letters. Gifts. Colorful envelopes are spread out in front of Katsuki on the bed. There are so many they overlap each other in a messy array. Some are store bought cards, others handwritten. There are drawings and coloring sheets from little kids. Small, miscellaneous items throughout. So much he can't even count.

As Katsuki sits and stares at the colorful mess, he can't help but wonder why the hell he wanted to see these in the first place. He had to have fucking known they'd trigger some shitty emotional response with these goddamn meds they have him on.

The sound of the door opening startles him out of his staring. Eijirou walks in—without his typical smile, Katsuki notes—and gently presses the door shut behind him. When their eyes meet he holds up his left arm, now enclosed in a hard plastic brace rather than a cast.

"No more cast on this one," he says. "I can finally use my hand again." He shuffles toward the other. "I also asked when you might be able to go home. She said another day or so, 'cause your body's still recuperating from what happened and they also have to get your prescription for oxygen in order..." He trails off quietly when the look on Katsuki's face registers—his eyes are dull and his eyebrows are pressed together in a subtle frown. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"...'s nothing," Katsuki replies quietly.

"You're not in pain, are you?"

"No."

"Then what is it?" Ei presses—gently, he makes sure.

"I told you it's nothing," says the other, more firmly this time. But Eijirou doesn't miss the crack in his voice, subtle as it is. He makes his way around the bed and reaches for Katsuki's hand, and while it's something of a relief to finally feel those warm fingers slide between his again after nearly two weeks of being without it, his worry has spiked.

"C'mon, man, you know I know that's a load of crap," he tells Katsuki. "'S not gonna help you if you just hold it all in, y'know? You should know from experience."

While Katsuki relaxes, he still hesitates. His frown deepens and the muscles of his jaw flex and relax a few times. "You're gonna think it's fucking stupid," he says finally. "Especially after what I said the other day... about not wanting to ask for Recovery Girl's help."

"Katsuki, if you know me at all you know I'm not gonna think it's stupid."

A long, slow breath releases from Katsuki's nose. "...honestly? I'm scared, Ei," he admits in a rough voice. "I only have so much time left... and who the hell knows how painful it's gonna get?" He pauses, swallows a few times. "And I don't even know how long. I heard 'em say something about less than a year..."

In an instant, Eijirou feels his stomach drop. Despite the shooting pins of pain through his wrist, he tightens his grip on Katuski's hand. For a moment there's no sound but the soft ticking of the clock on the wall, counting down those precious, precious seconds.

Less than a year. Ei hadn't heard that. He'd been too afraid to ask.

"'M not even gonna make it to my twenty-fourth fucking birthday. And I'm sure as fuck not gonna make it to yours. And fucking hell—I haven't even done anything yet." He shakes his head, cards his free hand through his hair. "I've only been a hero for five stupid years. I'm not strong enough to help stop these new League bastards. I'm fucking nothing anymore. And I'm gonna die that way, too."

"Stop, Katsuki." Eijirou can't help the desperation seeping into his voice. "You're not nothing. You've never been nothing. You know that, man." He tries to swallow around the lump in his throat. "You're fucking everything to me, Katsuki. Everything. And—and I'm scared, too, ya know? Scared of losing you." The hitch in his breathing is inevitable, and he hates that the tears are right around the corner. He's so sick of crying... "Which—which is why I wanted you to see Recovery Girl."