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“And it's with a heavy heart that we bring you news of Hattori Atsuko’s passing. After being rescued from a villain with a knife quirk who was holding her hostage yesterday, in exchange for free passage out of Saito city, Miyazaki prefecture, where the hostage situation unfolded, the civilian has succumbed to her wounds. Hero Hawks, as we can see in this clip from yesterday's confrontation, rescued Hattori at the cost of a severe, but not life-threatening, knife wound to the abdomen. Unfortunately, Hattori had already sustained several injuries at this point, and it is said that she passed peacefully in her sleep last night after succumbing to her injuries. Our thoughts are with Hattori’s loved ones at this difficult time.”
Izuku stares at the aeroplane television screen, tears blurring his vision, his heart hurting for both the poor little girl and the boyfriend he’s already on a flight to go and see.
Todoroki Enji had called Izuku the second Keigo was taken into an ambulance, anticipating the water hero's panicked reaction to the live-action coverage of his boyfriend stumbling out of a building, practically pouring his own blood. It had been much appreciated by Izuku because hearing that a paramedic with a blood clotting quirk was on the scene and had already stemmed Keigo's blood flow had been the only thing that meant Izuku could even breathe again.
Nothing could have stopped him from packing a case and booking a last-minute flight to Fukuoka Airport, though. And so here he sits, fidgeting in his plush first-class seat, frustrated that there's nothing he can do to get to Keigo’s side faster.
Losing a civilian you've saved is never easy, but to lose a child you’ve saved is one of the deepest pains a hero can ever experience. Izuku would know; he’s dealt with it thrice already, and it hasn’t got any easier with repetition. For Keigo, however, Izuku knows this is a first, and he hates that he hadn’t been there, at his love’s side, when the news came.
Todoroki will be there for Keigo, Izuku knows, but he’s not the most well-equipped to handle emotions like the ones Keigo’s going to be experiencing.
Izuku wipes his eyes and shifts in his chair yet again, flipping over from the international news to the flight's movie selection. He’s looking for cheerful and fuzzy films to get him through the remaining seven hours of his journey, and he hopes they can deliver. He needs to be at his best when he reunites with Keigo, for his boyfriend’s sake.
Todoroki picks Izuku up from the airport, much like he had on Izuku’s first trip to Japan, only this time, neither of them has the time or patience to deal with the gathered paparazzi. Instead of posing for photos or answering any questions, they cut through the crowd like a sharp blade, getting into Todoroki’s chauffeured town car to get to the hospital where Keigo is still an inpatient.
“How is he?” Izuku asks as soon as the car pulls away from the curb. Todoroki looks uncomfortable at the amount of pleading in Izuku’s tone, but he doesn't hesitate to answer, updating Izuku on Keigo’s physical condition first — still injured, but steadily improving thanks to healing quirks — before moving on to the more difficult portion; Keigo’s mental state.
Todoroki uncomfortably mutters his way through explaining how Keigo has been trying to keep his laid-back public persona on whenever there’s a chance someone but Todoroki might see him, but when he’s assured of their privacy for a little while, the smile drops, the cocksure look in his eyes hollows out, and his posture slumps defeatedly instead of slouching with aplomb.
Izuku grimaces, his fists tightening almost painfully. It kills him that he wasn’t there with his boyfriend when he got such difficult news, able to act as Keigo’s strength from the get-go, but he's here now, he reminds himself.
Ten long minutes later, they pull up to the hospital and Izuku flies out of the car, leaving his luggage in the trunk when Todoroki tells him that his driver will drop it off at Keigo’s apartment.
Sprinting to the elevators, Izuku hits the button for floor three without waiting for Todoroki to catch up and get in, tapping his foot impatiently on the ride up until the doors slide open and he's once again on the move.
“Sir, are you on the approved visitors list?”
Izuku glares down at the nurse who dares to delay him any further. He’s not an angry person generally, nor aggressive, but right now, with only a door and this Goddamn nurse in his way, he’s not exactly feeling himself.
“I’m his boyfriend,” he grits out, “of course I'm on the damn list. Midoriya Izuku. Check the list.”
The disgusted sneer she gives at the word boyfriend is something Izuku will be complaining to the hospital administration about, but only once he’s seen Keigo with his own two eyes.
Little Miss Homophobia takes her time looking over her self-important clipboard before clearly faking an ah-ha! in a flat tone when she finds Izuku’s name. She steps out of his way and Izuku snarls a completely disingenuous thank you over his shoulder before striding into his boyfriend’s private hospital room.
Seeing Keigo, laying in his hospital bed, bandages around his torso peeking out from beneath the sheets, makes tears spring to Izuku’s eyes all over again. The dark circles under his boyfriend’s golden eyes only make the aura of vulnerability around him that much more prominent.
“Oh, Kei,” he breathes out, voice cracking with emotion. His words reach Keigo’s ears and his eyes flutter open, looking just as concerningly hollow as Todoroki had said. The prone hero doesn’t try to put on a smile for Izuku, which Izuku appreciates for the trust in him that it implies.
“Izu,” Keigo rasps. His throat sounds raw as if he’s been screaming, and Izuku winces in sympathy before hurrying over to him. Wetness begins to shine in Keigo’s eyes as Izuku reaches him and slots their fingers together, the physical contact a comfort to each of them.
“You’re here. You came,” he says, staring at Izuku as if he’s a miracle incarnate. Izuku manages a watery smile in response.
“Where else would I be when you need me?”
Over the next few days, Izuku only leaves Keigo’s hospital room once to grab some clothes and toiletries from Keigo's penthouse apartment. He’d planned on sleeping there, but when he’d seen the undone state of his boyfriend, he simply couldn’t bring himself to leave Keigo. Instead, he sleeps in the cushioned armchair at Keigo’s bedside, refusing to share the hospital bed for fear of hurting Keigo in the night.
Witnessing Keigo fluctuating between a poor imitation of his ‘Hawks’ persona and the raw, vulnerable mess he is around only those he trusts is jarring, but Izuku understands it's Keigo’s way of coping and minimising how far-reaching his pain feels.
When Keigo cries, always so quietly, Izuku is there to hold him closely and carefully, whispering whatever words of comfort come to mind and stroking his soft, blond hair.
When Keigo is angry, angry at the whole damn world for little Hattori’s death, Izuku is there to listen to him rant, restrain him from gesturing too emphatically in case he rips a stitch, and validate Keigo's feelings.
When Keigo becomes despondent, Izuku is there to remind him he's not alone, play him adorable animal videos to pull a wan smile from him and twine their fingers together in a gesture of unity.
But none of that means that Keigo isn’t still traumatised by that young girl’s death, or wracked by survivor’s guilt for being able to live through his own wounds from the same villain where Hattori couldn’t.
On Keigo’s last day in hospital, Izuku takes a deep breath and prepares for an unfavourable reaction to what he's about to say. “Keigo, love,” he murmurs softly, “I think you need to talk to a professional about all of these things you’re feeling. That doesn't mean I’m not perfectly happy talking about it with you,” he hastens to add, “but I can’t help you work through this the way a therapist could… And if you want to keep being a hero, you need a healthy way to deal with these emotions.”
Whatever indignant fight had built up in Keigo early in Izuku's explanation drains out of him at its conclusion. Keigo sighs, letting his head come to rest on Izuku's shoulder.
“You’re right. I don’t really want to do it, but you’re right that I need to if I’m gonna get back out there eventually.” His voice is far away as he speaks, his gaze trained on the Fukuoka skyline as if picturing himself back in the sky, wearing his hero gear.
Izuku kisses Keigo’s wavy locks with affection. If that’s what it takes to get him in a room with a therapist, Izuku is all for a little daydreaming.
The nightmares start eight days after Keigo is discharged from the hospital with his stitches out and his skin almost fully healed thanks to the miracle of quirks. Coincidentally, or not, depending on how you look at it, it’s also the same day he finishes taking the strong, sedating painkillers he’d initially been prescribed.
Without them to drug him deeply enough that his mind is calm, Izuku is awoken by Keigo’s screams and shouts multiple times that night.
He screams for Hattori Atsuko. He screams for Razor’s Edge, the villain who kidnapped and killed her, to stop hurting Hattori. He screams that he’s losing too much blood and isn’t going to get Hattori out before Razor’s Edge finds them and takes the girl back.
He just screams.
Izuku wakes him as gently as he can each time, pulling Keigo into his arms as he trembles upon returning to consciousness, panting harshly until his breathing evens out to match the rhythm of Izuku’s heart as he lays his head against it.
The fact that Izuku can't do more than that, can't give his Kei any more comfort than the space between his arms, makes him feel useless and impotent, but he says nothing of this no matter how many times he soothes his boyfriend back to sleep.
He won’t burden Keigo with his problems, not right now. Keigo struggles to carry the weight of Hattori Atsuko’s death as it is, as if it’s his fault that she's gone. He doesn’t need to know that Izuku is struggling with feeling inadequate to help his own boyfriend properly; Izuku can shoulder that alone if it means Keigo can focus on healing from this tragedy.
“How was therapy today, sweetheart?” Izuku asks when Keigo enters the penthouse from the balcony door. His idiosyncrasy of landing on the open-air patio instead of getting the elevator up from the ground floor never fails to put a smile on Izuku's face.
Keigo has been seeing Dr. Nakada twice a week for the last two weeks, and while therapy is a slow process, Izuku can see little hints of initial progress here and there in his boyfriend.
He doesn't refer to Hattori’s death as his fault, at least out loud, anymore. His nightmares still happen, but they’ve reduced slightly. When Keigo’s angry, he’ll channel it in a healthy way, exhausting himself with physical training, which serves the twofold purpose of making him feel as though he’ll be more prepared next time he needs to save a life, and giving him the nice, safe target of a punching bag to take his feelings out on.
“Pretty good,” Keigo replies. “We’re still going over blame and guilt assignment, but the Doc says I’m starting to look at it more healthily, so that’s good.”
Izuku beams. “That is good!” He enthuses. “I’m so proud of you, you know. I thought you’d go crazy taking a leave of absence from work to heal, but you’ve done nothing but work hard to get better.” He hums happily and brushes a soft kiss on his boyfriend's lips. “You’re amazing. I’m in awe of you, really, Kei.”
Keigo returns the kiss, but Izuku knows his boyfriend. Even living as far apart as they do, he knows Keigo.
So he knows that Keigo’s not happy about something from the way his kiss is a little lighter than usual, almost hesitant.
“Alright,” Izuku says when the tentative kissing continues throughout the next day, “what’s going on, hm? You’re acting a little off, love, and I can’t help if I don’t know why, so why don’t you talk to me about it and we'll work through it together?”
Keigo’s wings rustle in the way they do when he’s feeling anxious. “It’s really not a big deal,” he tries, but Izuku’s not having it and stares him down with steady eyes until his boyfriend cracks.
It all comes spilling out, how he feels like he's a burden to Izuku because he’s missing so much work to stay in Japan and take care of Keigo, how he’s noticed Izuku seeming to swallow his own emotions in a misguided attempt not to overwhelm Keigo.
“Keigo,” Izuku cries when his boyfriend is all out of words. His throat is tight, eyes stinging with emotion, as he reaches across the couch to take Keigo’s hand in his. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea you felt like this. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Keigo mumbles something about not wanting to be more of a burden than he already is and Izuku has to resist the urge to scowl furiously at the idea Keigo could ever be less than a treasure to him in case he gets the wrong idea from it.
“Alright,” he says as calmly as he can, “I think we need to clear some things up, then. Let’s start with the sleep and nightmares.”
Keigo swallows but nods. “Okay. Okay, sure, let’s talk it out.”
“It’s my choice to be losing the sleep I am, Kei. Your place is obscenely big and has three guest rooms; I could take any one of them and sleep through the night in there, but I haven’t, because it’s not what I want. I want to be next to you, getting woken up, so I can hold you and help you get back to sleep when you need it. You aren’t to blame for the choices I make,” Izuku declares fiercely before he gives Keigo a pointed look. “I know Dr. Nakada has gone over these concepts with you, sweetheart. You blame yourself for too much.”
Another nod from Keigo and Izuku, satisfied he’s been heard even if not fully believed — it’s okay, he’ll reinforce the point until his boyfriend does believe him — continues.
“The same applies to me keeping my own problems quiet. It’s been my choice, but I’m willing to concede that it might not have been the smartest one. I was just worried that it would be asking too much of you to handle my shit alongside your own, but I should have had faith in you, and I’m sorry. If you like, I’ll tell you anything you want to know after this conversation, okay?”
This gets a small smile from Keigo, who murmurs ‘apology accepted, gorgeous’ in a voice full of adoration. Izuku smiles back.
“Lastly, I… I am eating into my accrued days off by staying here for so long, yes, but…” Izuku pauses, nibbling his lip nervously. He’d been planning on waiting until Keigo was further into his therapy to talk about this, just in case the topic overwhelms him. He’s going to have to bring it up now, though, before Keigo twists himself into a knot over the issue.
“What if I just… Stayed here?” He says quietly, suddenly finding the floor awfully interesting. There’s a sharp intake of breath from Keigo’s direction, but Izuku can't make himself look up, uncharacteristically anxious over his suggestion.
In his defence, basically offering to move to another country for someone is a big thing, even when it’s the man you love more than anything.
“You. You want to move here?” Keigo asks haltingly, adding in an almost small voice, “But why?”
That has Izuku’s head snapping up, eyes blazing. His windswept curls jostle with the movement. “For you, Kei,” he states incredulously. Why else would Izuku want to emigrate to Japan? He likes good sushi, sure, but not that much. “Because I’ve never hated my apartment more than the moment I heard you were hurt and I was there, in my apartment, fifteen hours of flight time away from you. Because it killed me to be stuck on a plane when Hattori passed and you needed me even more. Because I love you, Keigo,” Izuku rants, growing louder the longer he speaks, until he’s practically yelling.
He clears his throat when he realises just how impassioned he managed to get. “Sorry,” Izuku says awkwardly.
Keigo is too busy gaping at him to accept the apology. “You really want this? To live here, leave your home behind, for our relationship?” He asks eventually, voice awe-filled.
Izuku nods like a bobblehead. “More than anything. It’ll be hard, and definitely more than a little chaotic to organise, but more than worth it, too. You, we, are worth it.”
Keigo’s acceptance comes in the form of him launching himself at Izuku, kissing him senseless as he crushes himself to Izuku’s broad chest.
Izuku feels the wetness being transferred from Keigo's cheeks to his own, but he says nothing, simply kissing back with equal fervour and devotion.
He knows living in the same country won't ‘cure’ Keigo of the issues plaguing his mind. He knows that therapy is a process, sometimes a never-ending one. But as long as he can more easily stand by his boyfriend as he heals, live close enough to be Keigo's emergency contact for the next traumatic villain encounter, and lose sleep because Keigo is next to him instead of a world away, Izuku will be happy.