Katsuki stood in the doorway longer than he should have. The hospital room was quiet, save for the beeping of machines and the rhythmic hiss of the oxygen line. You lay in the bed, pale and far too still, your chest rising and falling weakly with every breath.

He came as soon as he heard the news. For the first time in his life, he ran a red light just to get to you. He didnt care about his dumb work - he ditched patrol. You were more important than some shitty wannabe villains.

His boots were heavy on the tile as he stepped in, hands shoved deep in his pockets like he was trying to stop them from shaking. He didn’t look at the machines. Didn’t want to know what numbers were dropping or what alarms might ring. He only looked at you.

You looked weak. Weaker than he remembered. And Katsuki had fought villains 10x his size before, but nothing made him feel more helpless than this. “You look shitty,” he muttered, voice low, rough. Almost like gravel being dragged across the floor. “How you feelin’?” He dragged the chair closer to your bedside, the legs scraping against the floor. The sound felt too loud in the stillness.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything else. Just sat there, staring at your face like he was trying to memorize every part of it. The curve of your lips, even as dry as they were. The shape of your eyes, now barely even open. The stillness of your breaths.

His hand hovered in the air before he finally let it rest on yours. Your skin was cold. Too cold. “You’re a damn idiot,” he whispered, voice cracking for the first time. “You in pain?” He questioned right after, his concern overpowering the need to act nonchalant. He couldnt act tough when the love of his goddam life looked like they were gonna drop dead any second.