MHA Sickfic

The days after.

This is the last chapter of my short story. I hope you all enjoyed it. I certainly did.  Until we meet again 

XXX,

Ash. 

The gentle sensation of fingers ghosting through his hair rouses Bakugo, the blonde scrunching up his face and blinking blearily to clear the blurriness of sleep as he looks up. In the cool morning light he sees green eyes shining out of gaunt, freckled cheeks; watching him with no trace of the fevered haze that had clouded them. The extended hand stills and withdraws, Izuku's brow furrowing as he whispers an apology for waking him. But Bakugo simply brushes gently past it and stands, leaning over the guard rail with open arms. Crimson eyes meet green, searching for any hint of rejection before he gives in to the aching need in his chest, reaching forward to pull the other into a careful hug even as his mind hisses acidly at this selfishness.

Izuku isn't sure how to react but he feels the fine tremors in the blonde's body, the hard lines of stress in his shoulders and arms. And Izuku's always, always been the type to offer comfort to anyone who might need it. So he timidly winds his arms around Bakugo's waist, absently rubbing slow, small circles in his shirt as he listens to the blonde's breathing hitch before finally evening out.

When he pulls back, Izuku can see the faintest blush dusting his cheeks, and feels his own rise to meet it. The explosive teen opens his mouth, closes it, tries again, works his jaw as he tries to speak, to find words to apologise, to say he's happy Izuku is back. But they just, Won't. Come. Izuku waits patiently, watching myriad emotions flicker through red eyes; regret, shame, frustration. He has to fight not to bite his lip or interject into the sickly silence; he wants desperately to allay all of these possible thoughts running through the blonde's head. But he knows Kacchan; he has to be patient. Bakugo drops his eyes to his lap with a rough sigh and pushes himself to his feet, hiking his bag up onto his shoulder and escaping the room; guilt nipping at his heels as he rails against his own uselessness.

"See you later, Kacchan." The voice is small, rough from disuse. Bakugo's hand falters on the door handle and he casts his eyes back over his shoulder to see Izuku offering him a soft smile and trembling wave.

"Yeah," he huffs out. "Whatever, nerd."

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Izuku aches.

His entire body thrums with the dull pain of lingering illness and being forced to lie down for such a long time. He wants to move; to get up and walk around, but fatigue weighs heavily and even something as simple as sitting or feeding himself requires herculean effort and leaves him exhausted. He finds himself frustrated to near tears as his hands shake with fatigue, fingers clumsy and fumbling. He feels so weak; so useless. And he hates it.

"Oi nerd, just hold on a sec," Bakugo snaps, abandoning his English homework and stepping up to the bed, none of the usual acid in his tone as he adjusts Izuku's pillows and help him sit up. But he notices the defeat in the other boy;s eyes and huffs out a sigh.

"What is it, Deku?" he grumbles, eyebrow quirking as Izuku looks at him, incredulous for the briefest moment before shaking his head minutely.

"It's nothing," he mumbles, eyes downcast but almost glaring at the trembling hands in his lap.

And Bakugo gets it; the feeling of weakness, of needing people's help and how it makes his skin crawl.

"It won't be forever, nerd" he grunts. "I'll kick your ass through rehab if I have to."

And Izuku smiles at him, open and grateful, a quiet chuckle escaping his pale lips as Bakugo finds his own lips twitching upwards in response.

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