Maigo- A BNHA OC Story

Recovery

   She opens her eyes. To her dismay, she is back in the man's room. The harsh brightness of a street lamp is the only source of light. Its glow pierces the gauzy shades over the window, landing on the bed, and the bare floor and walls. A warmer glow peeks out from underneath the closed door. The bed cradles her back, and her joints are stiff. Her stomach growls and shakes her whole body. A moan rises out of her throat and slides between her lips. She is still too weak to move.

   The man's footsteps approach the door. She can hear the soft creak of the hinges as it swings open. She watches his shadow approach the side of the bed. His dark frame leers over her as he assesses her body. She watches as his eyes scan first over her broken leg, then up towards her hips. They skim over her stomach, chest, and arms, before resting on her face. His gaze meets hers, and he is caught off guard.

   "Oh, you're awake." His voice is soft and quiet. The words feel forced out of his mouth, like if they were spoken any quieter, he would have made no noise at all. The sound comforts the girl, almost like a lullaby a mother sings to a fussing baby. "That's good."

   The man reaches his hand out. The girl squirms, each movement agony for her wrist and leg. The man's hand lightly brushes her forehead, weakly dragging her hair that has fallen into her eyes.

   "It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you."

   She looks back up at him. He is pale, with dark hair covering most of his face. What skin does poke through his long strands is covered by short, messy stubble. His eyes droop, almost like he hasn't slept in weeks. A shy smile spreads across his lips, nearly hidden by the giant gray scarf that wraps around his neck. It calms her down again.

   "Don't move too much. It's only going to make you feel worse."

   Immediately she moves. He elbows slide up under her and prop up the rest of her torso sharp pain emanating from her broken wrist. The man reacts, grabbing pillows and placing them underneath her back so she does not put pressure on her already injured wrist. Now that she is sitting, she can finally see the rest of her body. He has not taken her clothes off, and her stuffed animals are still on either side of her. She grabs one of them and buries her face in its soft, cool fabric, breathing in its musty smell. The man's hand strokes the side of her face. She does not flinch this time.

   "I'm going to wrap up your leg, okay? It may hurt while I move it but it's going to feel better afterwards."

   She nods, her face still hidden by the stuffed animal. She can feel him moving down towards her legs. He walks toward the edge of the bed opposite the headboard and kneels down on the mattress. Working quickly, he removes his scarf and places it next to him. Gingerly, he places his fingers on her shin. The girl grips the sheets beneath her left hand, waiting. Then, suddenly her leg is lifted into the air and dipped into a pool of pain.

   She is in agony, pain searing up her calf, crawling up into her stomach. Her breaths come sharp and short, chest bobbing up and down. Whines and whimpers run freely from her mouth, and tears flow from her eyes. Beads of sweat populate her forehead, and in between all the noises she makes, she can faintly make out the soft words of support coming from the man below her.

   "It's okay, we're nearly there, I'm just going to rest it on my lap. I know it hurts, but you have to trust me. Everything's going to be fine in a minute."

   The man places her leg on top of his own, slipping his fingers out from under her. He takes the scarf next to him and begins wrapping her leg with it. She continues to squirm, but by glancing at her face, he knows he is no longer hurting her. When he is finished, her entire shin is covered in the material, like a mummy being wrapped for burial.

   "Is it too tight?" he asks. She shakes her head, eyes squeezed shut, mouth a fine thin line.

   "You need to keep it elevated," he whispers. "I'm going to take a pillow and put it underneath your leg. That way you can keep it up and still be comfortable."

   Well, as comfortable as she can be with a broken leg and wrist.

   The girl seems to understand, as she shifts her torso again so he can retrieve one of the pillows from under her. Even more carefully, he lifts her leg up again and places it on the pillow. It rests on top, but sinks down enough so it is not in danger of rolling off it.

   "I'm going to wrap your wrist up next. You won't be able to move it, so please be careful." He tiptoes up next to her head, going back to stroking her hair. Her eyes go right to his own, their contact making him shift uncomfortably. Why is she staring like that?

   Clearing his throat, he busies himself with wrapping up her wrist. He is extra gentle when lifting it up, so as not to have her wriggle around too much. Since the joint is so small, he is afraid too much movement may actually cause more damage. When he is done, her wrist stands stiffly. He steps back and admires his handiwork.

   "Can you move your fingers?" She wiggles them slightly, like tapping keys on a piano.

   "Does it hurt?" She shakes her head no again.

   "Good." He stands back up. The girl begins to shrink away again, curling in on herself. The man opens his mouth to tell her that she is alright, that nothing has changed now that she's all bandaged up, that he still won't hurt her, but closes it again when he hears a noise. Her stomach releases the loudest rumble he has ever heard. The sound is a cross between a churn, a grumble, and a chortle, all mixed together with a deep whine that comes from her throat. Oh.

   "Are you hungry?" he asks, knowing full well that the answer is yes.

   She nods her head energetically, bobbing up and down, eyes never leaving his own.

   "Okay. I'll be right back."

   He swiftly turns and walks out the bedroom door and into the kitchen. Reaching up to the cupboard, he pulls down a protein packet and walks back over to where the girl is lying. He shows her the item before beginning to uncap it, nudging it closer to her mouth so she can drink. The girl turns away, nose buried back in the soft cloth of one of her stuffed animals.

   "It's a protein packet, it's good for you," the man retorts. His voice is defiant, now. Why would she refuse food? She saw me open it. He grabs her attention and takes a sip. "See? It's not poisoned." He holds the packet out towards her again and this time she does not turn away. "Take a sip, it's okay."

   She opens her mouth and tentatively takes a sip, then immediately recoils. Whatever taste was supposed to be present is not prevalent to her over the texture of what just entered her mouth. It is not a smooth, silky liquid, as she expected, rather a lumpy, congealing mass that sits in her mouth and must be forced down her throat. A strangled noise claws its way out of her as it goes down.

   "I know it's not the best thing you've ever tasted, but it's all I've got right now," the man's eyes dart to the floor. "Besides, you'll learn to get used to the texture." After a few more sips, she does, and frantically gulps the rest of the packet down in record time. She does not remember feeling this full in all her life.

   The man drops the packet on the floor and sits on the bed. He takes the pillow out from under her head and replaces it with his lap. She looks up at him as he begins to stroke her forehead again.

   The girl closes her eyes and breathes deeply, wishing everything could stay like this forever. Wishing that she could stay lying down like this, and whatever's under her would be as soft as this, and that blankets would be as warm as this, and that someone could always stroke her head like this, and-

   And, and, and. She realizes that this is what she has been waiting for: not for someone, but for something. For this moment, right here. To feel like she has finally found someplace where she belongs. She is afraid at how long it may actually last.

   "By the way," the man's voice is soft, it's vibrations lulling her into a deep, deep sleep.

   "My name is Shota."