𝙤𝙧𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙙 (𝗄𝗂𝗋𝗂𝖻𝖺𝗄𝗎)

Ten | Staring At a Patch of Wilted Plants

After finding out about Kirishima's flare-up, Bakugou came back every day to try and see him. It had already been six days, and his already-low hope had diminished to barely anything at all.

Holding another bag of fresh meat buns, Bakugou walked in on the seventh day. He was fully expecting the woman at the front desk (her name was Jennie, according to Nurse Tamaki) to turn him away, making him trudge home slowly and eat the meat buns all on his own. But, he walked through the door, and before he even got to the desk, she looked at him and said, "You know where to go," which meant he was free to go to Kirishima's room.

Bakugou mumbled a very quick "Thanks" before running down the hallway, bursting into Kirishima's room eagerly.

His excitement was snuffed out like a candle in the wind as he saw Kirishima. He was laying flat on his back, his head straight and eyes staring up at the ceiling, unmoving. "Bakugou?" he mumbled, moving nothing but his knee, which he bent slowly.

"Yeah, that's me," he said, approaching the red-haired boy carefully. He looked down and saw that his usually tall and spiky hairstyle was gone, instead replaced by a tangled mess of hair that fell down around his face, spreading out over the pillow. Carefully, Bakugou reached out and brushed some of his red hair from out of his eyes, knowing Kirishima couldn't do it himself. "I brought meat buns."

Even half-paralyzed with hair shittier than usual, Kirishima grinned, his lips curving upwards and showing off his sharp teeth. Bakugou almost laughed at it—there he was, incapable of doing so much as feeding himself, and he was smiling. It was . . . inspiring, in it's own, strange way.

Before Bakugou himself had time to process the question that popped into his mouth, he asked it quickly. "Why do you always smile so much?"

"Because smiling makes people happy," he answered without missing a beat, "and I'm going to keep smiling until I die. Only then will you see me without a smile on my face," he added with a laugh. "Now, can you please help me sit up so I can have a meat bun?"

Bakugou processed his words, turning them over in his head repeatedly as he put his hands on Kirshima's back, helping him into a sitting position against the headboard before putting a meat bun into his open mouth.

"Woah," he said, mouth still full of food, "these are soo good!"

"Mhm."

"Did you make them yourself?"

"No," Bakugou answered, "my mom did."

"Woah! She's a super good cook."

"Eh."

The two fell silent, both unsure of what exactly to say. Kirishima swallowed the rest of his meat bun and stared out the window, moving just his eyes and not his neck.

"Hey, Bakugou?" Kirishima said, voice quiet.

"What?"

"Did you ever make a decision about the lung transplant?"

Bakugou sighed. This again? "Yeah, I decided I don't give a shit about it."

"Oh, okay. . . . Well, I still think you should get it. Not being able to breath absolutely sucks."

"No shit."

"Please, Bakugou, will you get it? For me?"

He stayed quiet, frowning and crossing his arms across his chest.

"I know you don't care at all, but I do, and I want you to be happy and healthy. If that means getting a new pair of lungs, so be it. Just . . . please." His voice was thick, laced with something heavier than empathy. He seemed close to tears, though his eyes were dry.