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Bakugou Katsuki is a strong hero. He and everyone else in the world knew that, even if they feared he could potentially become a villain in the future. It was unlikely, but people liked to fear things. People know of his nature, how he’s abrasive, but care lies underneath. He may not be the kind who gently reassures civilians with his words, but he makes sure he sees them get to safety either in the ambulance or in their loved ones’ arms.
Something people don’t know is how much he cares about Midoriya Izuku. Back in high school, you saw a strange rivalry between them that you couldn’t depict if it was friendship or lingering hatred. You never thought too hard about it, though. It was none of your concern since you were in two different classes. Despite that, you thought Bakugou tolerated Midoriya at best back then. The current sight in front of you disputed that.
Bakugou’s hair is unwashed and messy. His clothes are disheveled and stained as if he put on whatever he first saw in his hamper. The dark circles beneath his eyes are dark and sunken in—he hasn’t slept properly in days, most likely. You don’t blame him, because if you were in his shoes, you’d be the same.
“Midoriya-san can’t have visitors currently,” you say, and Bakugou stares at you. His crossed arms squeeze against his chest slightly, as if holding himself back. “I can answer some questions, but he’s not ready to see anyone yet.”
Bakugou nods slightly, and you think he’s going to leave. “I asked for you,” he says instead. Because of the nature of the ward you work in, none of the staff’s information is online. So, you don’t know how he knows you work here.
“I know,” you say. “Why?”
Bakugou furrows his brows, and he’s always worn his heart on his sleeve. Or at least you’ve always believed so. Ever since high school, it’s been easy to read him. However, you’re a nurse at a psychiatric hospital now. Maybe that’s why it’s always been so easy.
“What do you fucking mean?” he asks, and his aggressiveness means he’s being honest. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Well, I didn’t know you even knew who I was up until five minutes ago,” you say, and he slowly nods as if it’s connecting in his head. “So, excuse me for being a little confused.”
“I saw you when we were in high school,” he says, and your brows furrow slightly. Never had you two spoken in high school. Both of you stayed in your designated areas. “In the beginning of our second year, there was a villain attack. You were the only non-hero course student that didn’t fucking run away. You actually ran to us and tried to help.”
You nod a little. “I remember,” you say, because you do remember. You remember never hearing thanks and learning that heroes never thank those who haven’t made saving people their profession. It was what led you to no longer be impressed by heroes anymore. “I’ve never been one to run away, especially when the ones trying to save us needed saving, too.”
Bakugou chuckles. “Yeah, ‘cause no one fucking cared about us.”
You shake your head a little. “I don’t think that’s true.” He’s no longer making eye contact with you. “I think they were just scared.”
He looks at you, eyes scanning your face. “And you weren’t?”
You’re silent for a moment as you look behind him at the koi pond. The eating disorder unit is currently out for activities and surrounds the koi pond. They’re the ones who steal cereal the most to feed the fish, because it brings them so much joy. It’s always hard to tell them no, and most nurses don’t.
“Sometimes, fear makes you do stupid shit.” You pause as you look at him. “Every patient here was scared before they got here—before they got better.”
Bakugou is smart, and you hope he understands. You hope he understands that Midoriya fear made him end up here. The fear of what is something for them to talk about, not for you. The crease between Bakugou’s eyebrows softens slightly. He understands just a little.
“You should’ve fucking replaced one of those extras,” Bakugou says, and his arms aren’t squeezing his chest as much. “You weren’t scared.”
“None of you were ever extras,” you scold as you cross your arms. “I never thought that. I always thought that we were all children. You guys were forced to fight a war that heroes weren’t even willing to fight.” You look at his shoes. The laces aren’t even tied correctly. When you make eye contact, it’s overly intense. “It showed that heroes are just people no matter how much we idolize them.”
“Don’t tell Izuku that,” Bakugou says with a chuckle. Although he doesn’t sound serious, you both know he is. That’s something Midoriya refuses to hear—to acknowledge, even if it’s what he needs to survive. He deeply sighs. “We all wanted to fight.”
You nod. “I know, Bakugou-sama.”
“You can call me Bakugou-san.”
You pause as you watch him. He’s finally relaxed, and his honesty is loud. “Okay, Bakugou-san. How can I help you today?”
“Can you tell me how he is?” he asks, and there’s a slight hint of desperation in his voice. He won’t let it come out completely, but you still heard it.
“He… There’s no correct time frame for grief,” you say, and he slowly nods. “I can’t tell you the things you want to know—what he’s saying—but I can tell you that Midoriya-san isn’t the first person to be like this over grief. Nor will he be the last. He just needs time.”
“Are you putting him on more meds?” Bakugou asks. “Cause they had him on a shit load on meds in the hospital, and it was fucking him up. I’ve never seen him like that.”
“That medication was pain medication, and you told them he needs heavier dosing so his quirk doesn’t burn through it,” you say, and there’s a line you’re walking on. Midoriya hasn’t been conscious enough to sign anything saying Bakugou can know everything. “They may have gone too heavy with the dosing. I don’t know, but he’s been dealing with that the last couple of days as well.”
“How long until he’s not sick?” Bakugou asks, and you open your mouth. “Everyone keeps asking me when he’s gonna fucking be okay, and I don’t know.” He pauses, and his voice is softer when he speaks next. “I don’t know what to tell them.”
“Once the medication is out of his system, he’ll be able to have visitors,” you say, and his posture slouches slightly in relief. “Tell everyone that he’s safe. I’ll call you when he can have visitors, and it’ll be an appointment only because of who we have in our unit.”
Bakugou nods as he lets out a deep breath. “Thank you, L/N-san.”
It’s still strange that he knows your name, and it’s even stranger to actually hear him say it. “How do you know my name?”
“I looked you up after the villain attack and tried to get into 2-A.” Bakugou chuckles. “Thought I imagined you for a while, but Dunce Face remembered you. So I went to Aizawa, and he said he’d look into you, but nothing ever happened.”
You froze before letting out a light laugh. “You.” Your smile grew. “You’re the reason I got to work with Recovery Girl.”
Bakugou’s grin resembled the one he had when he was named Number One Pro-Hero last year. It was strange for him to look this happy without that award in front of him. “That sneaky bastard.”
“Thank you,” you say as emotion swells in your chest. You know what it’s like to never get thanks, and it’s so relieving to give it. “Without you, I would’ve never gotten here. Thank you.”
Bakugou’s smile turns into a smirk. “Wasn’t all me. You’re the one with a badass quirk.”
You raise a brow. “You don’t even know my quirk.”
“Don’t need to know it to know you have hero potential.” He pauses as he looks around you two. There are trees and the koi pond, along with the entrance to the lobby. There’s not much to look at. Then he looks at you. “Before Izuku got his quirk, he ran into danger for me once. What you did back then reminds me of him.”
Your smile is small and soft. “From what I’ve learned about Midoriya-san, that’s a genuine compliment.”
“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” Bakugou says, as if to make sure you understand. You do understand, though. There are more people similar to him than he realizes, and they’re not as difficult to handle as most people make them out to be. Misunderstood isn’t the right word for them, because it’s easy to understand them if you try. Maybe looked over emotionally is a better way to put it. “Can you… Can you tell him I stopped by?”
“If he’s up to hearing that, then I will,” you say, and he nods. “The beginning of being here is always the hardest, and I want to make sure he’s comfortable before we talk about anything that may be… triggering.”
“I understand,” Bakugou says, and his entire posture is relaxed. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him so relaxed. He’s either always standing up as straight as possible or has his arms tightly crossed against his chest. This is a good look on him, though. “I just don’t want him to think I gave up on him—you know, because of what happened.”
“Can I be completely honest with you, Bakugou-san?” you ask, and he reluctantly nods. “I may not fully know what your relationship with Midoriya-san is, but I do know he has full faith in you. After all the years you’ve spent fixing whatever problems you once had, he knows you’re still here. I have full faith in that.”
He slowly nods, trying to wrap his head around it. “Okay,” he says before taking another deep breath. “Thank you, L/N-san. You still have my phone number in case anything changes?”
The wind brushes both of your hair as it pushes by. “Yes, and you’ll be the first person we call.” You pause. “I’ll make sure to call you myself.”
Bakugou’s leaving is simple. There’s someone waiting at the lobby door for him to unlock it. He doesn’t look over his shoulder at you as he walks away, but you watch him the entire time. There’s a pull in your chest as you think about someone caring so much about you that they seek you out, even when they’re told no to seeing you yet. You know what love is—you see it every visitation and between the patients who grow close to each other—but what Bakugou and Midoriya have is something far greater than you understand.
Once he’s completely out of sight, you turn around and head toward the unit. You know several of them are going to ask where you went, and you’ll need a story that doesn’t reveal anything. They can’t know that Bakugou came here, especially when so many of them know him personally.
The door opens, and Hamasaki, one of the youngest patients, is waiting there for you. “L/N!” he says, and his eyes are bright. “You were gone forever.”
You look up at the clock. “15 minutes is not forever.”
“It is to me,” he says, and you give him a look. “I need my medication, and you’re my nurse.”
You chuckle. “Alright, give me a second.” Midoriya is sitting at the table across from the nurses’ station. “Midoriya-san, are you needing something too?”
He looks at you, and he’s looking better than he has, but exhaustion weighs him down. He’s not been sleeping well here, but from what you understand, he’s not been sleeping well for a long time. “Can I get a boost?” he asks, and you nod before looking over at Aiko, one of the techs.
“Can you grab him a boost while I get Hamasaki’s medication?”
Aiko nods as you two pass by each other at the nurses’ station entrance. She looks at Midoriya with a soft smile, one he slightly returns. “Do you want vanilla or chocolate?”
He pauses, looking ready to throw up again, but there’s nothing in his system to throw up. He’s not been eating because he’s been sick, and they’d give him one of each if he wanted to try them both. You know how difficult it can be for patients in the beginning, because this place is not their home and it resembles a form of control being taken away. However, it gets easier the more comfortable you let yourself be.
“Vanilla, please,” Midoriya says, and you smile as you log into the computer.
“Of course,” Aiko says as she goes into the kitchen.
You look at Hamasaki, who stares at Midoriya with a proud expression. He’d been similar in the beginning, so he knows how it is. “Alright, Hamasaki,” you say, and he looks at you. “What are we needing to get?”