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Kirishima opens his eyes and Bakugou hasn’t moved at all. His hands are bandaged and his fingers crooked, just resting on top on bloodied sheets.
Blond hair is plastered against his forehead and Kirishima blinks slowly, not reaching out.
With his own cheek squished against the uncomfortable hospital chair they’ve reluctantly given him, Kirishima tries to breathe in without shuddering halfway through, but he fails.
It’s only been two days since … the fight, he woke up around noon yesterday. His lungs hurting, head throbbing, white fabric wrapping around his arms and legs and band-aids trying to cover the wounds on his face. Sleep didn’t come easy.
Mina and Sero were alright, considering the circumstances. They got fixed up by doctors and nurses who only had pity in their eyes, heavy lashes moving as they promised them that they’d let them know if the other kids were found. They hadn’t said “when”. They said “if”.
Kirishima would be angry, would let the frustration seep out of his body and thrash, scream, burst - but there was no way he had the strength to even do more than just sit here. When his mom gently held his cheek yesterday she was so full of regret, her eyes swimming in the noise of unsaid words. He hadn't expected her to allow it, but she let him stay at the hospital anyway.
The bag filled with clothes next to him remained untouched as he forced his body into his school uniform after she had left.
Bakugou’s breath falters every few seconds. He looks cold and sweaty at the same time but Kirishima doesn’t dare touch him, doesn’t dare move a limb of his body. The pure anxiety of making his situation worse holds him captive in his own mind, so all Kirishima does is sit and be quiet.
His mother was kind enough to include some of his comics in the bag she brought him, so he skips over already read panels, fingers carefully turning fragile paper pages - but it's not enough to hold his attention. No matter where from, any sound makes his eyes jump up and he's still, not moving while he scans Bakugou's face for anything.
He's out of luck each time.
Sometimes he gets up to check on the others, hopeful to find faces he still misses. Deku shows no signs of waking up, but Todoroki apparently moved a few times in the last hours. He doesn’t know about Uraraka. About Tokoyami. A stray mention of Denki makes him pause long enough for intrusive thoughts to wrestle their way into his brain, coating his insides with dark, biting ice.
No time to lose hope yet, he repeats to himself. It's a mantra.
No time to believe the nurses when they tell him they’re -
The door opens with a familiar squeak and he sees Yaoyorozu stepping into the room, giving Kirishima the smallest smile.
“Any changes?” she asks quietly, not moving away from the door.
Kirishima shakes his head, detangles himself from the chair he somehow made himself fit on. He stretches his arms above his head and walks closer to her. Never be too loud. Don’t make a sound Bakugou wouldn’t like. Can't afford missteps.
“No. Hasn’t even moved a finger.”
Yaoyorozu’s hand gently finds his shoulder, squeezes him. She knows the heavy emotion laid bare in the room, written in capital letters in Kirishima’s eyes, can see the fear clearly in the dark bags that show so obviously on his face. She knows it too well, maybe.
“I’m certain he will wake, Kirishima.”
She squeezes again, just as someone else knocks on the door. They both turn to see Mina through the small window of the door, how she points across the hallway towards Todoroki’s room with a smile that couldn’t fool anyone, but it’s good enough for now.
Kirishima looks back at Bakugou, the blinking screen next to his bed unchanging before he follows the girls into the hallway.
Noises of feet dragging and people yelling catch Kirishima’s attention. Todoroki is sitting upright in his bed, a pained smile drawn on his face as parts of his family fuss over him, his sister taking his hand ever so gently in hers.
So Kirishima ducks out of the room only to run face first into Sero. His posture is terrible and exhaustion drips off his frame, but there's a lazy smile on his lips hanging under red rimmed eyes.
“What’s happening here?”
Sero huffs a laugh and points down the hallway and that’s when Kirishima’s breath catches for real. Bakugou easily drags Satou and Mineta after him, feet steady on the floor as he stalks his way towards Midoriya’s room.
“He woke up like 10 minutes ago and he’s already on a rampage," Sero says easily next to him. “He said he’s gonna kill Midoriya if he dies, I’d like to see him try."
Kirishima doesn’t move, he’s frozen solid in the small space he’s taking up, just staring after his best friend as he shoves the other two boys off him with ease. As if he hadn’t been in a coma for two whole days. Sero bumps into him with his shoulder.
“We got there a second after he woke up, I think.”
Still no movement.
“He wasn’t alone, in case you’re thinking about that.”
Kirishima’s eyes snap up and they’re filled to the brim. Filled with guilt that’s threatening to spill any second now, hot tears laughing at him and calling him names. His lips are pressed together so tightly with the promise to not make a single sound. Anxiety rushes through his body, head to toe, filling him with uneasiness. He should've been there, he should have -
Sero ruffles through his hair.
“Go talk to him, you big baby. He’s alright.”
There’s no time to thank his friend but Kirishima makes a mental note to do that later. Right now he’s gotta run towards Bakugou full speed, a little less full speed after a nurse yells at him to stop, but he’s moving fast anyways. He makes sure to not step on Satou on the floor as he zeroes in on Midoriya’s room.
Before he can open the door though All Might steps out, face strained and hunched over. Kirishima stares at him for a second, notices the bag in his hand.
So All Might stayed in there for a while, that's what Kirishima assumes at least. It's been two days and he stayed with Bakugou for the majority of the time, but he hasn't seen All Might check up on him. He steps out of the way but doesn’t smile at the former symbol of peace as he brushes past him.
Bakugou stands lost at the foot of Midoriya’s bed. His hands are fisted lightly, the left one trembling to hold the shape but failing.
Kirishima closes the door quietly, takes him in. He’s upright, standing on his own. Alive. Breathing. Moving.
To not disturb whatever moment Bakugou’s having right now, Kirishima stays right next to the door, silently waiting for any kind of reaction.
It takes a while but when Bakugou turns it’s slow.
He looks up at Kirishima and opens his mouth, snaps it shut immediately again.
“Hey.” Kirishima knows he sounds raspy and insecure, but it makes Bakugou’s eyes stay on him anyways.
“Kirishima.”
And he looks broken. In so many ways that cannot be understood, but Kirishima wants to try anyway. Wants to hold, wants to care, wants to help. But he doesn’t move. He doesn't really know how to take the first step this time.
“Todoroki just woke up. I was - I mean - I was there. Just now. When you, uh, woke up. I guess?”
Bakugou nods.
“Alright.”
“I was in your room," Kirishima adds hastily, "the entire time. I feel so stupid right now.”
Tears are spilling now, racing across warm cheeks. Kirishima drags his sleeve across his eyes to catch them.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up.”
Bakugou still just looks at him. His face unreadable but curious as he moves closer to Kirishima.
“I know you were there. ”
“Huh??”
“You left your bag. Your phone too." He shuffles around uncomfortably.
"You’ve got a dumb lock screen, by the way.”
Everything comes to a halt when Bakugou’s bandaged fist easily knocks against his chest. His lock screen is a picture of the two of them together at the gym. A dumb selfie taken in the mirror with Bakugou flipping off the camera with a wild smile and Kiri’s arm slung over his shoulder securely. He loves this picture.
“Oh.”
So he’s not mad. Of course he figured it out, Kirishima's stomach twisted around anxiety for nothing. Suddenly he can stand tall again, weight lifted off his shoulder and heart. He pulls on Bakugou’s wrist to tug him closer, throws his arms over Bakugou’s shoulders and threads his fingers into the blond’s hair as gentle as his overwhelming emotions let him right now.
To his surprise Bakugou allows it, snakes his own arms around Kirishima’s waist and lets his head fall easily into the nook where Kirishima’s neck finds his shoulder.
They hold each other for a while. Neither of them move, simply breathing the other in, basking in the warmth of an embrace so long overdue. Kirishima still sniffles but Bakugou doesn’t comment on it, he just moves his hands and twists his fingers into the white button down under the blazer, so close to skin.
After a couple of minutes Bakugou detaches himself and nods towards the door. They leave Midoriya’s room together and Kirishima is quiet about the tear tracks on Bakugou’s cheeks.
The hallway is empty, thankfully. They’re both slow now, feet more dragging than lifting, fatigue finally catching up to their bodies.
When they make it back to Bakugou’s room Kirishima halts and notices the mess he left behind.
There’s his Crimson Riot comics on the chair, threatening to fall down any second. His phone lays on the white nightstand plugged into the charger, and next to it are two cups filled with water. His backpack is leaning against the hospital bed and his favourite bright red hoodie is draped across the wardrobe.
It really didn’t look like there was no one in here and Kirishima’s entire body exhales at the sight. He follows Bakugou to his bed, picking at his fingernails.
“I wasn’t sure you’d wake up again.”
Bakugou stops in his movement, halfway on the bed and one foot still on the floor. He turns his head and looks more beat than offended.
“As if that little bit of-”
Warmth spreads where Kirishima’s hand reaches for his face, rough palms against his skin without fear, no hesitation.
“That wasn’t just “a little bit” of anything, Bakugou.”
They’re staring at each other, holding gazes with more power that either of them have right now, and it’s Bakugou who drops first.
“I fucking know.”
He twists out of Kirishima’s grasp and slides back under the covers, pulls them all the way up under his chin and has the audacity to roll his eyes and huff at Kirishima’s red cheeks.
“What are you staring at? Get the fuck in here.”
This wasn’t the day to argue. Suddenly all of the energy built up in his body evaporates, just slips out and leaves him hollow. The smile on his lips is wobbly as Kirishima lets his body slump forward and on the bed. He carefully moves around, doesn’t want either of their injuries to hurt. But Bakugou just shoves him under the covers, grabs his hand and puts it right back on his cheek, covers it with his own hand.
It’s still trembling, Kirishima notices.
“Thank you.”
“For what.”
“For waking up?”
Bakugou snorts.
“‘m sure you did fucking amazing out there, too.”
“Well I didn’t end up in a coma, so…”
“Show-off.”
Kirishima smiles at him, eyes finally dry and lungs free. His thumb caresses Bakugou’s cheekbone, slides under his eye and in a moment of unadulterated courage he moves closer, knocking their foreheads together and earning a pained huff from Bakugou as his eyes close.
“I’m glad you’re okay.”
He hears the choked up sound from his friend, but his eyelids are so heavy. No way he can open them again.
“Likewise, I guess.”
Kirishima would chuckle now. Usually he would. But he doesn’t.
He bumps their noses together lightly, feels the corners of his lips tug upwards as he notices Bakugou isn’t pulling back. And after a couple of minutes of calm silence between them, skin touching, hearts beating close to another, they both fall asleep again.
Safe and sound.