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Rain pelts the windshield mercilessly. Each drop against the glass shoots another thought into Izuku’s mind, another round of ‘What if he’s dead?’ and ‘Will I be too late?’
He presses his foot down on the accelerator, and for a moment the tyres lose friction. The car skids for all of a moment, a terrifying moment where Izuku’s heart freezes in his chest. But the moment ends, and his car speeds forward on the empty road.
He takes a shaky breath, gripping the steering wheel harder and focusing on the road. He needs to be careful or he won’t get home in time. There will be no hope of saving Kacchan if he’s dead on the side of the road.
A grey blanket of clouds hangs over Izuku as he races home, and he can only be thankful for the clouds’ light colour as it keeps the road bright for him. But in the distance the clouds are darker, threatening. He can almost taste the ozone on his tongue from here, a kilometre away; a kilometre too far.
Something blurs in the side of Izuku’s vision, gone too quickly for him to recognise it. But it won’t matter, nothing else is important. He needs to get home, needs to find Kacchan and see that he’s alright. Kacchan has to be alright, he has to be.
He will be alright. Izuku can’t let himself think about ifs or buts, about the possibility of Kacchan not being okay. Why didn’t he bring Kacchan with him? They don’t get along, he’s well aware, but he cares for Kacchan. And he knew this storm was coming, he knew. So why did he go?
His trip wasn’t supposed to take so long, should've only been an hour at most. But it wasn’t. It lasted nearly three, and now here he was, paying the price for his stupid fucking mistakes.
Izuku’s vision blurs abruptly, and he blinks hard, trying to clear his sight of the road. He can’t let tears stop him, can’t let himself fall apart no matter how much he wants to.
That can come later, when Kacchan is safe and warm. When Izuku is suffocating himself under a mountain of pillows, exhausted but unable to rest. When his mind is relentlessly scrutinising his decisions, picking apart everything he could have– should have done better.
Izuku focuses back on the road, thanking whatever deity is out there that it’s empty. If it wasn’t… it’s a good thing it’s empty. Empty of cars and people, that is, because the puddles he speeds through could definitely count as somethings, dangerous somethings that could end with him aquaplaning towards his death. And the water relentlessly pounding against his windshield is worst of all, his windshield wipers doing their best to keep his line of sight clear.
He yanks on the combination switch, and the wipers speed up, blurring up and down along the windshield. But Izuku must’ve done something to piss nature off recently, because it barely does anything, and the road is just as blurry now as it was before. The only difference is that the black windshield wipers are going fast enough to take off now.
Izuku’s jaw tenses as he spins the worn leather steering wheel between his hands. His car, old as it is, will make it. It will. He just has to believe it can get there in time. Already he’s thinking of what’s happening again, of what Kacchan is going through, what he will continue to go through until Izuku turns up to help him.
He needs to be there, to help. But part of him screams that it’s not his fault, that it was Kacchan’s stubbornness that has led to this. If he hadn’t refused to come with Izuku earlier this wouldn't have happened. If Kacchan had just been receptive to Izuku since he moved in, then Izuku wouldn’t be bombing down a major road like a bat out of hell.
Kacchan must be scared, on some level. If Kacchan can even get scared, that is, because Izuku has often wondered if anger is the only emotion he feels, even though it's a ridiculous thought. And untrue, as well. When Kacchan broke the kitchen window, it was covered up in the morning, and a small gift was lying on the table underneath, just for him.
Izuku’s lips turn upward at the memory. Kacchan didn’t do it, though. Of course not, because if you asked him, you’d know there is no way in hell he’d ever ‘help such a useless Deku’.
It’s Izuku’s turn to help, however, and he isn’t there. He isn’t there.
His lips fall back into a determined line, and he considers flooring it. Water splashes up beside the car as he shoots through a puddle, the thought quickly washed away as the water comes crashing back down around his car.
Izuku can’t do that. His tyres wouldn’t grip the road. He’d skid, and crash, and he’d never make it to Kacchan. He needs to get to Kacchan, even if it means he has to drive too slow. The speedometer reads a hundred and thirty kilometres, far above the speed limit, but it's still too slow. Everything is too slow, will forever be too slow until Kacchan is safe in his arms.
Soon. He’s almost there. Once he gets off this road, it's only a few turns and he’ll be home. He’s so close, but even that isn’t enough to relieve him. Even the sign marking his turn, the one that leads him home every day, isn’t enough to soothe his worries.
It seems like only a second passes, and he’s suddenly at the turn. He jerks the steering wheel to the left, wishing on every star in the sky that he makes it, that his car doesn’t flip and send him tumbling.
Skidding is bound to happen, of course it is. But that doesn’t change how Izuku’s chest freezes over in fear, in sheer terror of what is to come. He’ll never make it to Kacchan. He’ll never be able to make it up to him.
The wheel fights against his grip, trying to push in the opposite direction, but he doesn’t let it. He can’t, can’t give up, can’t not give it his best. Because if it came down to it, Kacchan would raise cities for him. Izuku wants to do the same, wants to keep Kacchan safe, but his car is aquaplaning, and the rain is messing with his head.
The car straightens itself and pushes forward, and Izuku can’t hear anything over the blood in his ears. It’s a wave of pure power pushing and crashing against his ear, blocking out all other noise.
He’s alive. He can help Kacchan.
Pushing down on the accelerator, he shoots forward again. Trees line the road, now, as the tarmac of the major road is left behind him, replaced with potholes and gravel.
Izuku hisses as he slides over a pothole, wishing he lived somewhere– anywhere but outside of the city. But then he remembers Kacchan, how he never would have met him if he didn’t move.
He takes it back, but that doesn’t stop him from wishing someone would fix up the fucking roads around here.
The trees cast shadows on the road, and Izuku hesitates to switch on his lights. If he does, he runs the risk of a deer catching sight and stopping in the middle of the road. A creature could be in his way, and he wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt of seeing it and knowingly cutting its life short because it was easier for him. If he leaves the lights off, none of that happens, but he could crash. He could meet a car on a bend in the road, or not see a fallen branch.
He jabs the button with his thumb, and his headlights turn on.
Izuku makes another turn then, his heart fiercely pounding in his chest. There is no car waiting for him around the bend, no deer or fallen branch. He speeds on.
Every turn, even the ones he doesn’t have to make, leaves his heart racing, tears gathering in his eyes. But he doesn’t crash, and it’s only a few agonisingly long minutes later that he’s skidding around the final corner, his tyres tearing up gravel as he races down his driveway.
His house stands in front of him a refuge from the elements, but even it does nothing to comfort him. Izuku doesn’t even stop in front of it, sharply turning the car and speeding off around the side.
The change from gravel to grass is stark, and disorienting. The thought that he’ll have to abandon his car enters his mind, and he instantly unbuckles his seatbelt, but the grass isn’t as waterlogged as it could be, despite the black clouds above.
He floors it, then, racing forward, past the old brickwork of his home and into the garden behind. Dirt flies up behind him, landing haphazardly all around, some of the soil catching in his wipers. Izuku curses as it’s quickly spread all across the glass. Brown takes over his vision, and he can do nothing about it.
Stamping down on the brakes, Izuku pushes himself back against the seat, wishing he’d left his belt on. The car slides over the grass, still far too fast.
This was a bad idea, it was a terrible idea. Beyond terrible, even. Why did he think this was a good idea in the first place? He should’ve gotten out while he had the chance. He should have just got out and ran.
Izuku keeps one hand fixed to the steering wheel, reaching for his door with the other. He hooks his finger around the release button, hoping to whatever fucking god there is that this works. It has to.
He flings the door open and leaps as far out as he can get. Instantly the wind fights against his clothes, the rain soaking him from head to toe. The soft ground collides with his shoulder, the shock of it travelling through the rest of his body as he starts to roll. A yelp escapes him as he tumbles, a sharp ache spreading through his shoulder.
He doesn’t know how long it is before he’s come to a stop, but once he is, he’s on his feet and running. Izuku doesn’t even know if he’s going the right way; can’t know, there’s no conceivable way to know for sure. But it feels right, like he’s supposed to go this way.
His clothes stick to his skin as he runs, and the smell of ozone is so strong, it feels like it's coming from inside of his nose more than from all around him. His breath catches on the inside of his throat, like loose clothes on thick forest brambles. The more he struggles the worse it gets, but he has to persevere.
When his head settles, the woods come into view. A piece of Izuku breaks at the sight of the tree line, the tall oaks grouped together, their branches shaking in the wind.
He sprints across the distance between them faster than he’s ever run before, than he’ll ever run again. Nothing will ever compare to this, to its importance. If he doesn’t get to Kacchan in time, nothing will ever be important again.
Izuku races past the tree line, the darkness of the forest enveloping him completely. But he doesn’t stop running, he can’t. He needs to get to the clearing, to Kacchan.
”Kacchan?” he shrieks, desperately. If he gets a response, he can find out where Kacchan is. He can reach him quicker, and can keep him safe.
Blue flashes through the forest, a bolt of terror piercing Izuku’s heart at the sight. It paints the trees a sick, bone-white. Izuku doesn’t stop, not even when thunder booms through the trees.
“I’m here!” he screams, his voice cracking pathetically. “I’m here, Kacchan! I’m here!” He repeats it over and over. It's supposed to reassure Kacchan, but it’s helping Izuku stay grounded, stay here, instead of inside his head. If he wants to have any chance of finding Kacchan, then he can’t afford to get lost in there.
A root catches on his shoe, and Izuku stumbles, the ground expanding in front of his eyes as he falls. But somehow, by some miracle he’ll never be able to understand, he stays on his feet.
Branches litter the ground, some small as twigs, others thick as the trees themselves. And the trees themselves cry out to him, groaning in their anguish, but Izuku pushes on.
Adrenaline pumps through his legs as he stumbles forward, deeper into the forest. The ground becomes harder to see, harder to navigate until everything looks the same. Izuku’s heart flutters, at how the trees try to confuse him. He’s close, he has to be.
”Kacchan!” His voice is hoarse and sticky, only just audible over the sound of his heart in his ears. It pounds in his throat, and pulses in his fingers, beating in his ears like a machine about to overheat.
Izuku sprints forward and leaps over the corpse of an oak, a weight sitting on his lungs. His chest burns with frigid heat, and his thoughts run faster than him when he touches down on the other side. He needs to get there. He needs to be there why isn’t he there yet he should be helping Kacchan not–
The woods disappear, the towering trees behind him somewhere as he barreled out into the clearing. The ground was torn up, grass sticking up skyward, and soil littering the flowers. And the hawthorn tree in the centre… it lay on its side, its roots out in the open air, its branches snapped at odd angles with limp flowers dangling from them. But Izuku didn’t stop to take in the damage. He did not slow, not even for a second. Izuku raced forward, his focus entirely on the hollow of the tree facing the sky.
It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t be like that. That’s not right it’s not right why is it– he’s late he’s too late Kacchan is gone he’s too late–
The bark is rough under his skin, against his arms as he reaches into the hollow. He doesn’t know when he crossed the gap, but he doesn’t care. He can’t care, not when his vision is cloudy and his hands are trembling worse than the branches in the wind. Not when his fingers close around Kacchan’s small, freezing, limp body.
“Kacchan?” he whispers, gently lifting him from the hollow.
The fairy lies heavy in his hand, curled into a ball, his black wings flattened against his body. He’s so… pale, like paper in Izuku’s hand. And his hair, tangled and messy, is slick with rain. It almost doesn’t look like Kacchan.
He’s fine, though. Isn’t he? Of course he is. He’s just…. lying down. In the cold. In the rain. He’s not– He’s not dead. Kacchan isn’t dead, he’s not. He’s okay, right? Because Izuku got here in time. He did.
But no matter how he tries to reason with himself, tears begin to fall, because Izuku knows. He knows, deep inside of himself, that Kacchan is gone… he’s dead. Izuku wasn’t fast enough, wasn’t good enough, wasn’t enough. And now Kacchan… now Kacchan is gone, and he’s never coming back.
The dam breaks, and Izuku’s cheeks are flooded with hot tears. The storm continues around them, but Izuku pays it no attention. It doesn’t deserve it, nothing does when Kacchan is here, in his arms. When Kacchan is gone–
Kacchan’s wing flutters, the briefest of twitches. Izuku doesn’t believe it, can’t believe it. He can’t let himself hope in case he’s wrong. But no, he twitches again, the rain shaken off his wing and onto Izuku’s hand.
Izuku doesn’t smile, but something strange happens to his mouth. It shakes, open and slack. Kacchan is… he’s… he’s not dead. Kacchan isn’t dead.
His joy is short lived, however, and soon Izuku is sprinting back towards the house, Kacchan carefully cradled between his hands. The woods pass him by in the blink of an eye, and it isn’t long before he’s ripping the back door open and stumbling into the kitchen.
Cautiously, he places Kacchan — he’s freezing why is he so cold he shouldn’t be this cold — down on the counter before sprinting to the sink to fill the kettle with hot water. He knows what to do. Or at least, what he thinks he should do. He’s never done this before, it’s not like they have fucking courses for performing first aid on fairies. The rest of the world doesn't even know they exist.
He slams the kettle down and leaves it to boil, racing over to his medicine cupboard and tearing the door open. He dumps the plasters out onto the counter, followed soon by allergy tablets and pain killers. He doesn’t even know what he’s looking for, just that he needs to give him something.
Kacchan won’t appreciate waking up in a bath, but he’s going to have to get over it. He just needs to wake up. Kacchan could hate him for the rest of his life, but Izuku wouldn’t care because at least he’d be alive
"It's okay, Kacchan," he whispers to himself, plucking a box of the smallest plasters he can find. Wait, he needs tinfoil. Kacchan was so cold, so, so cold, and they give foil to hypothermia patients don't they? So he needs tinfoil.
"You're gonna be okay, Kacchan. You're gonna survive and– and we're gonna buy you a new tree, and I'll lock it into the ground if I have to. You're – you're gonna be okay. You have to be." His voice shakes as he says it, the words coming out sharp and disjointed. "It's gonna be okay." Pulling another cupboard open, he takes the roll of tinfoil in his hand, dropping it in his haste to get it open.
He chokes on a yelp as it hits his foot, hissing as it throbs in dull pain. It's fine, he just has to ignore it. What's a sore toe to hypothermia, anyway? Nothing. Kacchan needs him, he can't let pain distract him.
The kettle begins to whistle, and Izuku stumbles over to it, pouring the boiling water into a small bowl before filling it with cool water from the tap.
"It's okay, Kacchan, you're gonna be okay. You have to be. Please– please don't leave me, Kacchan, please," Izuku whispers brokenly, turning back to the island where he left the little fairy.
But his fairy isn't there. Kacchan isn't there. There's… there's a human on his island. An unconscious man, lying on his side, as pale as a sheet. His hair is the same shade of blond, his jaw just as sharp. But it can't be him, it can't be Kacchan.
The ceramic slips from his hands, shattering on the floor.
Kacchan is a fairy. He's the size of Izuku's hand. He's not big enough to take up the entire island. He shouldn't be big enough.
Izuku doesn't question the fact his hand is clamped around Kacchan's shoulder. He doesn't question how he moved so quickly, he just pulls Kacchan towards him until he's lying on his stomach.
A gasp escapes him then, a soft one more of awe than of horror. Because there, attached to Kacchan's back are wings. Black wings, the same as they were when he was a fairy.
It hits him, then. This really is Kacchan. This is Kacchan. Kacchan still has hypothermia, he's still out cold, he might be dead.
Izuku pulls Kacchan towards him, and somehow gathers the strength to drag him off of the island and onto the floor. He has to get Kacchan to the bath, has to keep him warm until he can wake up. He has to wake up, he has to.
"It's okay, Kacchan," Izuku says as he hauls the other man into his arms. A soft 'oof' escapes him as Kacchan falls into him like a sack of bricks. "I've got you, it's gonna be okay."
It is okay, of course it is. Kacchan will be alright. That's what he tells himself as he half-drags, half-carries Kacchan to the bathroom. Even though Kacchan feels like ice, and he can't hear him breathing, it's okay. He'll wake up, Izuku knows he will. He just has to stay positive. They'll be okay, he knows they will.
"I'm never gonna let you out of my sight again, I swear to god," Izuku laughs brokenly as he enters the bathroom. He's careful to keep Kacchan's head from hitting the door frame, but not careful enough to keep himself from getting caught on the door handle.
"Ow," he groans, his hip starting to throb. He wishes he could rub at it, to alleviate some of the pain, but Kacchan needs to get into the bath. He needs heat, so Izuku can't keep messing around.
He sets Kacchan down against the tub and quickly turns on the tap, sticking his hand under the stream. His boiler had better work, or… or Izuku doesn't know what he'll do.
The idea of sharing body heat quickly inserts itself at the forefront of his mind. He shoves the idea down as soon as he can, but it's there long enough for Izuku's cheeks to heat up in embarrassment. Did he really just think about that? About hugging Kacchan? About holding him close enough to… to kiss him.
Izuku shakes his head, screwing his eyes tight and opening them again. Whatever the hell those thoughts came from, they need to leave. He can't be distracted, not when–
"Shit,” Izuku hisses, pulling his steaming arm back from the water and cradling it close to his body. Well, it's definitely warm now. All he can do is wait, now. Wait for it to fill over halfway before switching from hot to cold. Kacchan won't appreciate his wet wings, but Izuku reasons that he'll get over it. Wet wings are much better than possible death, right?
He lets it run, and tries not to cry at how long it's taking. Kacchan leans against the bath beside him, too still, too peaceful. "You shouldn't look so calm. It's not like you," he sniffles. "You're supposed to be angry, angry at me for being late, for not being here when I said I would be. You should be shouting at me b– but you won't say anything. Please, Kacchan, just– just say something. Tell me you're okay."
The silence is answer enough.
Izuku rubs the tears from his eyes and quickly switches off the tap, turning on the cold water. He can't cry, not yet. Kacchan isn't dead yet, he can't be. Izuku still needs to tell him something, and he can't die before then. He's not allowed to.
Turning the tap off and dunking his hand in, he figures it's warm enough. It won't be too hot for Kacchan, but not too cold either.
Hauling Kacchan into his arms, careful to keep his wings from bending or snapping, he stands up over the bath. And gently, slowly, Izuku lowers him into the water.
He sits there, when Izuku is done, looking just as pale, just as sickly. But that will go away once Kacchan's body realises it's warm again. It has to.
Izuku folds his arms against the rim to prop up his head as he sits on the floor. The tiles dig into his feet, and water laps at his curls, but he can't care. It's somewhere he can watch Kacchan from, and that's all that matters. Because he's never leaving Izuku's sight again.
Time begins to melt the longer he sits there, staring. Every minute bleeds into the next, and the one before until Izuku's head is dizzy and he's only closing his eyes for a second. It's just one tiny, little second. That's not going to hurt anyone, is it?
Izuku jolts awake, gasping for breath. For a moment he thinks it was all a dream, that he's been fast asleep in bed this entire time, that Kacchan never… died. But then he looks around, looks at the tiled floor and the toilet, the mirror and the sink and… he's still in the bathroom.
Izuku shivers, his head prickling with cold. He brings his hand up to feel it, and grimaces at the soaked curls. Maybe sleeping against the bath wasn't the best idea. He winces at the headache that will surely follow.
"Mmh," something rumbles from behind him. It's takes him a moment, far longer than it should to realise that it isn't just something, it's Kacchan.
Instantly, Izuku's body is filled with energy. He spins around, hissing as his shoulder collides with the tub's rim. But even that isn't enough to distract him when he sees Kacchan. His skin, once pale as snow, was back to its healthy, warm colour. He looked… he didn't look normal, no, because how could someone like Kacchan ever look 'normal'. But as he stared into crimson eyes, and they looked back at him… Izuku saw the relaxed line of his eyelids. He was peaceful, happy at last. Maybe Izuku was wrong, maybe Kacchan knew more than just rage and anger.
"Kacchan," Izuku whispers, his voice cracking. "You're okay." It's reverent, almost, the way he speaks. He's afraid, afraid of this not being real, scared to speak too loud and scare away the illusion.
But Kacchan stays, and tears begin to gather in Izuku's eyes as he says, "'Course I am, Deku. Did you really doubt me?"
Then Izuku ready does begin to cry, shooting towards him until his arms are wound tightly around Kacchan, his face only centimetres from Kacchan's. "I thought you were dead," Izuku says, though it's so quiet, even the sloshing water of the bath nearly drowns it out.
"I– you were so cold, Kacchan," he croaks. "You were so pale– so pale and I was holding you and– and I thought you were– I thought I was too late. You're tree was– was out of the ground, and then I found you and– I thought you were dead, Kacchan. Plea– Please Kacchan don't leave me, I need you. Please."
Kacchan smiles softly – though it's dampened with concern – tilting his head up to place a soft kiss on Izuku's lips. It's tantalising, too little and too much, too sweet and too soon, much too soon. This shouldn't be happening, how is this happening. Kacchan is a fairy, not a human, this is wrong, there's got to be something wrong about this, right? But then why does it–
Kacchan does it again, capturing Izuku's lips between his own and gently kissing him, as soft as a summer breeze.
–feel so nice…
"You shoulda known a little wind couldn't knock me down, Deku. I ain't that weak," Kacchan says, though it's softer than usual, wearied. He's tired, and Izuku can't deny that he is too. They've both had a stressful night, and it would be foolish to assume both of them would be okay after it.
"Of course," Izuku whispers, a small smile coming to his lips. "Kacchan's the best fairy out there, and wind doesn't stand a chance against him."
"Mhm, I'm so strong. There's no need to worry anymore Deku, 'kay? 'Cause I'm strong, I'll keep you safe. But don't put me in this puddle again or I'll rip yer face off, got it?" Comes Kacchan's mumbled response, exhaustion slurring his words.
Izuku's smile grows as Kacchan's eyes begin to slip shut. But he can't let Kacchan stay in the bath any longer, it's not doing him any good.
"Come on, Kacchan, let's get you out of here."
A groan is his only response.
Signing fondly, he hooks his arms around Kacchan's body and pulls him out of the tub. He's heavier with the added weight of water, much heavier, but Izuku manages. He dries him down with as many towels as he can find before pushing Kacchan towards the bedroom.
"I'm okay 'Zuku, see?" Kacchan says, the sound muffled by the duvet of Izuku's bed.
"Yeah," Izuku whispers back, pulling Kacchan closer to him. "You're okay."
Kacchan is okay. Izuku can rest now. And that's exactly what he does. His body releases instantly, and in less than a moment, the comforting darkness of sleep takes him away.