Waking up in a hospital was nothing new.
Waking up in a hospital with the media practically knocking down Izuku's door was an altogether different experience.
Three days had apparently passed before he'd properly come to, mostly healed, rolled from ICU.
Claustrophobia narrowed in around him like crawling through a black tunnel that only clenched tighter and smaller.
"I can't see," Izuku had said, shooting up in bed, clutching at the thick bandages around his head, around his eyes. His breath hitched in panic, decibels climbing high. "I can't see. I can't see!"
Then, immediately, before anyone could reply – if there was even anyone in his room to reply:
"Where the hell am I? Where's Ka – where's Bakugou? Bakugou Katsuki? That's the last thing I re-"
"Oh, he's doing well enough," had come Recovery Girl's sweet, maternal warbling. "Fighting every second he's stuck to that bed, but that's just the way of heroes, isn't it, my dear?"
"He's okay." A maelstrom of sickly, swirling emotion sapped out of Izuku in one long-winded sigh as he collapsed back against an uncomfortable hospital pillow. "He's okay?"
"Let's talk about you, instead," had come Aizawa's even voice.
Instinctively, blindly, Izuku's hand had shot out, fingers wide, searching. Aizawa's own warm hand had enfolded it, and the shuffle of him settling in beside Izuku's bed had been a balm to the hot hysteria radiating from his heart.
Explanations had come then, a seemingly endless barrage against Izuku's empty memory.
Mesmer. He remembered Mesmer. He remembered the moment those pale eyes had locked on his, and something like a pit of snakes had slithered and squirmed in the crevices of his brain, burrowing holes into his memory, writhing within his self-control, his free will.
Shit. Was Shinsou okay? He had to know by now.
"Shinsou was the one to apprehend him," Aizawa had said, perhaps noting the way Izuku's fingers had clenched into a crushing grip upon the subject of Mesmer.
"What – really? Why was he there?"
"The same reason I suppose any hero would have been there," Aizaway had said, no humor in his voice. "The majority of your short battle had been broadcast live across the news. Everyone saw."
"Saw – what exactly did they –"
"You versus Bakugou. Looked like you were about to emerge victorious, too," Aizawa had said, his words tightening just enough for Izuku to gauge the level of emotion tamped down behind the casual explanation. "You could look it up online. I wouldn't recommend it, but I don't think you've ever listened to any of my recommendations, minus those on books."
"I can't look up anything like this," Izuku had said, his free hand gingerly pressing over one eye. It didn't hurt. Nor did the rest of his body, minus lingering aches in his back and his shoulder. "What happened here?"
"Ground Zero happened," Aizawa had said. "He basically blew your face off, kid."
"I was able to catch the burns before the damage was irreversible," Recovery Girl had cut in. "You're still as cute as ever. But your eyes were heavily damaged in the blast. I had a surgical team at my aid, and we worked for three hours on your sight alone. You'll be able to see fine, but you'll require contacts and glasses for the remainder of your life."
"Oh." Izuku had released a shaky breath. "That's – that's fine. That's good. Thank you for all of your hard work, Recovery Girl."
"You're shaving years off of my life, deary."
