Work Text:
It's been a really long day. A light knock sounds against her door.
“Mina?” It's Hagakure’s voice. Someone she would rather not see her like this.
“Hey, Ashido? You ok in there?” And Jirou. She’s less opposed to this one, but still opposed.
An unusual combination, but here we are.
She doesn't respond, simply watching from her place on the bed as the door creaks open. A dark head of hair peaks in, with long sleeves and a floating headband directly behind. Mina is hugging her knees in the middle of her mattress.
Hagakure crawls onto the bed on her left. “Having a bad day?”
Mina shrugs. “I've had better.”
Jirou sits on her other side, twirling an earphone jack thoughtfully. “Sick or sad?”
“A little of both.” Mina dips her face into her knees. “My head hurts.”
Hagakure pulls Mina's folded blanket from the end of the bed, shaking it out. She puts it over Mina's shoulders, pulling one side over her own.
Jirou picks up on the other side, adjusting the fabric with one hand and fiddling with her phone with the other. Soon soft music fills the room, background to the sound of a crackling fire. It meshes seamlessly with the rain outside, as if the Hearing Hero composed it herself. She leans against Mina's shoulder, resuming her place in an ebook.
Hagakure leans into Mina's other side, pausing for a moment before extracting herself from the shared blanket. She picks a thinner one from the corner of the bed and drapes it over head, situating herself behind their pink friend.
Mina looks up at the slight weight against her back. Hagakure only laughs softly before Mina feels the gentle press of Hagakure’s unseen hand on her forehead under her fluffy hair. It's soothingly warm somehow.
“Sinus or temples?” comes the Stealth Hero's voice, carefully soft.
“Temples…”
Hagakure takes care to lightly tap her fingers over the space as she sets her hands to the sides of Mina's eyebrows, pressing and rubbing in small circles.
Mina closes her eyes, relaxing her posture and leaning back against Hagakure. The invisible girl welcomes her weight with the feel of an almost-hug.
Jirou readjusts without a peep, snuggling closer as she clicks to the next page in her book.
The smallest smile curves Mina’s lips as she focuses on the pleasantry of the sounds around her - how did Jirou know the perfect volume without asking? - and the gentle weight of her friends telling her not to suffer - or recover - alone. How do you ask for this kind of care?
In this moment, she's glad she doesn't have to know.