𝙤𝙧𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙙 (𝗄𝗂𝗋𝗂𝖻𝖺𝗄𝗎)

Four | Thorns at the Back of Your Throat

A knock at the door startled Bakugou awake from his unsuccessful attempt at a nap.

When he checked the time on his phone, he sat up, bemused. It was still just half past seven in the evening, thirty minutes before Kirishima was supposed to come back from the garden. He went there every day after dinner for an hour and a half, just to sit with the flowers and enjoy their lively beauty. Confusion settled over Bakugou, making him the slightest bit curious.

"What?" he said loudly so whoever was at the door could hear. His voice was slightly hoarse as he spoke, from both exhaustion and the almost non-stop coughing he had to endure.

"Katsuki? Can we come in?"

He groaned at the familiar voice. "Whatever."

The door opened slowly and Mitsuki and Masaru Bakugou walked in, looking around at the bright walls. Masaru waved to his son, a weak smile on his face as his wife pulled two chairs from the side of the room up to Bakugou's bed.

"What do you want?" Bakugou said, trying to muffle how angry he sounded by talking quietly. His legs were stretched out in front of him, covered in the dark blue blanket provided by the hospital. He pulled the blanket up a bit higher.

"Are we not allowed to come visit our son?" Mitsuki asked, almost sounding offended. "It's been a whole week since we entered you here and we still haven't seen you!"

"Is that all you wanted?"

"Be nice, Katsuki," Masaru said.

"Tch."

"How are you? Have you been doing the treatments and things?" Mitsuki was fiddling with the hem of her purple cardigan.

"Yeah, it's not like they help, though. They just make you feel like you're doing better and give you false hope to ignore the fact that you're dying."

Masaru chose to ignore his comment. "How's the other patient doing? You know, the one you share your room with."

"He's fine."

"Tell us about him."

Bakugou rolled his eyes and answered quietly, tugging on the thin blanket. "His name's Kirishima. He has shitty hair."

"That's not very nice—"

"It's true."

"Are you at least being nice to him?" Masaru asked calmly, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

"I'm treating him the same way I treat everyone else."

"Oh, Katsuki, no—"

"I didn't say I was being mean!" Bakugou snapped, anxiously pulling his hoodie closer around him. "Whatever. What do you guys need, anyway?"

His parents exchanged a knowing look and Mitsuki sighed, placing her hands in her lap. "Well, we're here to talk to you about something."

"I know." Bakugou ran a hand through his blond hair, getting irritated already. "What is it?"

Mitsuki looked everywhere except her son. "We talked to the doctor," she said, "and they told us that it would be possible for you to get a lung transplant."

"It could help you a lot, Katsuki," Masaru added.

Bakugou crossed his arms over his chest. "And?"

"We think you should do it. The doctors said that it can keep this disease from killing you."

"I'm going to die anyway, so what's the point? What will it do, give me like five more years to live?"

"It can give you the chance to live a long life. Well, more years than—than what you have now," Masaru said softly.