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Thick lashes hooded rose colored irises, rough lips pulled into a firm line as he watched her chest rise and fall, each breath of air giving him hope. He could feel his cut and tattered hands aching as he clasped them together, his eyes never leaving her face as she rested in silence.
The bed that she laid in looked firm, the mattress holding her tiny body as she slept for god knows how long. He’d never get tired of looking at her angelic face, and he’d never get tired of soaking of her comforting presence. Bakugou could still hear the way her laughs rang through his ears, the way her smile always pulled at the strings to his heart, making him snarl in protest, but he was never able to hide the blush that came to his cheeks.
The chair he sat in everyday became engraved in his mind; the way it felt, the way it creaked under his weight as he sat on it. But every day, it inched closer to the bed that Ochako laid in — her tranquil state of mind only frustrating him, but the silence in the room always drowned out the anger he felt bubbling in his stomach. He could feel his mind somersault while his hands tightened around one another; her thick lashes laying a shadow over those perfect cheeks as she slept day and night. Even her pretty pink lips remained in a firm line, yet some days when they parted slightly, he could feel his heart stir and his reflexes come back to life.
Today though, Uraraka remained quiet as she laid in bed; machines beeping quietly on each side of her, the mask that covered both her mouth and nose making quiet noses as she exhaled each breath of air that she inhaled. The cuts that had covered her cheeks, neck, shoulders, chest — they all left a sour taste in his mouth. He could’ve prevented this from happening, could’ve prevented her life from almost coming to an end. Bakugou’s chair no longer sat at the wall like it did when he first started visiting her months ago, but now it was right up against her bedside, wood touching metal as he leaned closer and closer every day.
“Hey, kid.” Uraraka’s nurse greeted him. Her voice sounded tired, her azure eyes out of focus, bags lining underneath as he met her gaze. When he first started visiting, they insisted that no visitors come to see her —but that didn’t stop the blonde.
“I’m not a fucking kid. I’ve told you that a million fucking times before, so cut the shit,” he growled. The woman laughed at him like she did every other day, and boy did it always rub him the wrong way. He snarled before looking away from the nurse and Uraraka; the sounds of snapping and writing, crumpling plastic and every other fucking noise that she made while she did her rounds became engraved in his mind.
Bakugou finally came to sit back in his chair, his arms crossing as they came to rest on his abdomen, eyes closing as he began to think. Thoughts of her purest smile, shimmering eyes filled with adornment as she looked at him — these things always haunted him in his dreams, causing him to stir away and claw at his chest with nails that scratched the naked skin there. Memories of their final minutes together seemed like a stitched wound that would always come apart, leaving him feel raw and exposed; his body, mind and soul always aching in the aftermath.
“Go do your fucking job and I’ll do mine.”
He hadn’t meant for it to sound so nasty at the time, but her adorable cheeks scrunched, revealing dimples that only ever appeared when she smiled at him; hell, even the way her eyes remained on his for a second too long made his face well up with heat, and he couldn’t just grab her chin between his fingers and smashed his lips against hers — except now, he wish he would’ve.
He should’ve told her then and there exactly how he felt as they both stood in their outfits; her spandex suit always looking a little too tight, showing every curve and muscle that her body had to offer and he always had to swallow back that biting, nagging feeling in the back of his mind.
“So—” the voice of the nurse cut through his thoughts, making his eyes crack open before he met her tired eyes. “You’re well aware of the state that she’s in. Why do you keep coming back?”
“Like I have to fucking tell you.” A short scoff followed, but the woman’s face never faltered. Her hands came to rest on her hips, the scrubs on her body scrunching with each movement until her lips pulled into a firm line. She was giving him a ‘mom look’, something he hated seeing, and he knew exactly what was going to come next. The crew at the hospital had been saying this to him for hours, days, weeks, months now, and it never got easier.
A low sigh, followed by, “she’s not going to wake up.”
Uraraka Ochako had undergone something terrible that day when they got called out on that job. Bakugou came to the conclusion that she wasn’t being careful enough with her shitty floating quirk and that she had gone over her limit like so many times in the past — but when he arrived at the scene, sweat dripping from his brow, fiery eyes looking at her unconscious, beaten form, a knot tied tight in his chest that day.
Bakugou frowned now, narrowed eyes looking away from the nurse as she exited the room, the door closing quietly behind her. She’d be back tomorrow night, at the same time, and he’d be here as well — his chair would be against her bed, his eyes watching her chest rise and fall, crystal clear memories of sweet smiles and large, doe eyes causing his mind pain and his heart to beat hard and heavy.
He felt sick to his stomach now, his eyes stinging from tears that threatened to break through the walls. He slowly brought his body to lean against the bed, his elbows resting on Uraraka’s firm mattress as he took her small hand in his. Her skin was soft and cold as he began to run his calloused thumb down the back of her hand. He was careful around the IV that dipped into one of her veins, careful not to bump it and hurt her more than she was already hurting.
She didn’t move under his touch when he pulled her hand up in front of his face, his eyes looking at her fingers. Those familiar, soft pads that resided on the underside of her fingers; he remembered her face as her eyes lit up when he finally asked about them. Uraraka’s sweet voice hummed out, her cheeks growing pink as she began to talk about them, explaining her quirk in the most adorable of ways and it fucking hurt to remember how excited she was.
Everything fucking hurt; seeing her like this, staying here day and night, dusk ‘til dawn -- he wanted to see those lively, warm eyes of hers, drown in the chocolate irises that he fell in love with since day one. Bakugou’s head finally fell to her mattress, his fingers intertwined with hers while he felt streams of scalding tears run down his cheeks.
“You’re not weak or fragile,” he muttered, “please wake up, Angel Face.”