MHA Sickfic

Day 11

When Bakugo had finally stepped away from Kirishima, he had sunk onto the edge of his mattress and run trembling hands through ash-blonde hair. The redhead had pulled over his desk chair and sat down, watching and thinking; conscious that maybe Bakugo had more to say. He knew some of the history between the two childhood friends, and Izuku's initial skittishness and outright anxiety around the blonde had told him that maybe it wasn't exactly happy. But he had minded his own business and watch them change; Midoriya gaining more confidence, and Bakugo's rage and reactionary violence simmering down just a little. The biggest change had come after their fight at Ground Beta; they would actually spar together in class without the blonde protesting, and seek out each other's company for extra training. Bakugo was still prickly and vicious with his words but it was less vindictive, more like advice delivered through insults and sarcasm. And so he had waited, thinking, until Bakugo had spoken, voice tight and laced with guilt:

"I...we grew up together..."

And he had told him everything; laid out every single horrendous thing he had done to torment Izuku. Kirishima had worked to keep his expression neutral in the face of his words but it hadn't mattered; Bakugo had steadfastly refused to look at him. The redhead hadn't offered any comfort or platitudes; he knew that's not what the blonde would have wanted. But when he had finally quieted, Kirishima had leaned forward and rested grounding hands on his forearms, coaxing Bakugo to look up. The blonde had expected harsh words, criticism, damnation of his actions; knows he deserves nothing else and had found himself bracing against the inevitable-

"I'm going to get you some water. I'll be back in a minute."

And Bakugo had stared at him, wide-eyed and disbelieving.

It had been said without judgement, only understanding; a kind smile under determined eyes. Kirishima wasn't choosing to ignore what Bakugo had said, what he had done, he couldn't have. So instead he had chosen to carry that knowledge, but not condemn Bakugo for it, offering a safe person to talk to. And Bakugo had just stared at him as the other had flashed a wider grin and left to do as promised.

When Bakugo had finally crawled into bed, the weight of the day pulling him into the mattress, Kirishima had turned to leave but not before a quiet "thank you" had reached his ears.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Recovery Girl looks up from leaning over Izuku's bed as the door to the HDU opens. Bakugo steps in and approaches, noticing how tired the nurse seems.

"How is he?" His voice is soft, as if speaking any louder will hurt the boy between them.

"No change," she murmurs. Izuku's lung and kidney function hadn't improved over night, and he continues to run a low grade fever with occasional intense spikes that she and her support drones had done their best to ease with paracetamol and damp cloths. The worst had been when the boy's mother had visited. The nurse's heart had ached for her; she'd been inconsolable, petting her son's hair as she sobbed and whispered reassurances to him.

Bakugo grunts and leans against the guard rail, eyes tracking over Izuku's clammy face as Recovery Girl backs off.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Class 1-A visit in an endless stream that day, trying to hide their fear and worry in favour of telling Izuku funny stories or updating him on hero news in hushed voices. Bakugo is a solid persistent presence; stepping away when Izuku's friends come by, but always remaining in the room. When Izuku starts to panic or lose himself in nightmares, he's there with reassurance and a grounding touch, even if the freckled teen can't hear or feel it.

Todoroki clenches and unclenches his fists as he watches Izuku tremble in the bed. Before he can second guess anything he has offered his left hand, resting it against the other's clammy brow and channelling the smallest trickle of his power. Izuku squirms away with a pitiful squeak but he reassures him with quiet words as he gently brushes damp curls out of the way, letting cool fingers pet through lank hair.