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When he woke up for the first time, he was so completely out of it that all he managed to register was the gentle hand slowly combing through his hair. He barely managed one blink before he was asleep once again.
The second time, he was slightly more aware. The hand was still there, still soothing, now lightly scratching at his roots in a way that made him melt. There was a voice too, a familiar one, but he couldn’t make out what it was saying.
As he was falling asleep once more, he felt the press of lips on his forehead and it finally clicked. It was his mom.
When he next awoke, he could finally open his eyes properly and keep them like that. He was in a hospital, bandaged up and hooked to machines and drips. His legs felt a bit numb, his right arm hurt like a bitch, there was a weird feeling on his right cheek and a barely there stinging on his chest.
The memories came in slowly, while his mom was helping him get a bit more comfortable and his dad opened the door to call over a nurse. The fight, his arm getting wrecked, his quirk, the pain, his heart being stabbed, waking up with a jolt, crawling to the edge of the arena, seeing AFO, seeing All Might, seeing Deku, adrenaline pumping through his body, jumping back into the fight, pain, so much pain, exploding AFO, getting rid of that creepy ass baby form, the adrenaline finally leaving him, someone helping him up, trying to get him to go to the hospital, the portals, pain, Izuku.
Izuku.
Right, shit, everyone had been there, hadn’t they? He remembers spotting a bunch of their classmates and teachers in the crowd. If he thinks back hard enough, he’s pretty sure he heard Sero and Kirishima next to him right before giving in to the fatigue and passing the fuck out when the fight was finally over.
He’s pulled out of his thoughts by the doctor walking in. He gives them the rundown, the endless list of injuries and broken bones. It’s not too bad. It could have been much worse. For a moment, it had been much worse.
They redid the stitching on his chest. He blinks and resolutely does not think about that, because he just woke up and he wants to check on some people and doesn’t have time for that right now.
He’s got stitches on his face, where the skin of his cheek got ripped apart. That explains the weird feeling there.
His right arm is a mess. He knows.
He can get it amputated and switch to prosthetics, but that would bring about an endless list of problems. He needs his palms for his quirk, so he’d need to work with someone to adjust the mechanics for it to be feasible. He’d need to get it adjusted and changed every time his body grows some way, he’d need to get used to it, he’d need one that would synch with the rest of his body.
The more he thinks about it, the stronger his headache becomes, so he throws that idea out the window in the time it takes for the doctor to finish talking. He can still move his hand; he can feel the touch on every centimeter of it and can very lightly move his fingers. That means potential. It means hope. He’ll take the physical therapy instead.
After the doctor is done and walks away, Bakugou wastes no time jumping out of bed and marching down the hallway with his parents tripping over themselves to catch him and drag him back. But fuck that, he’s fine, he needs the movement and he wants to check on Izuku. That fucker had looked like shit when he last saw him, he just wanted to make sure he was still alive and kicking.
Thankfully, he was indeed alive, though it wasn’t easy to see, what with him wrapped up like a mummy. But he was talking and joking around, so it was fine. What wasn’t fine was what the nerd was saying.
His quirk was passed on.
He only had some residue left.
It would slowly run out in time.
He was quirkless.
The shock of that statement, coupled with the exhaustion deep in his bones, the pain slowly getting more and more noticeable in every muscle of his body and the everything of the last couple of days got to him and he cried. He cried like a baby and Izuku was spluttering in concern and All Might was staring wide eyed at the both of them.
This day sucked.
But he was fine. Izuku was alive and he’ll go back to school and he saved the fucking world so. He was a hero. He told him as much too.
When his parents finally dragged him back to his room, he threw up. Coupled with all the injuries, it hurt like a bitch.
His mom ran out to call a nurse and his dad helped him get back in bed. He must have been more exhausted than he thought, because he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
The next day, Aizawa came to visit in the morning. He asked about his injuries, warned him that his friends were going to come later and talked to his parents. The entire time, his eyes were all but glued to Bakugou’s figure.
He couldn’t really find it within himself to be mad about it. Aizawa had been there the entire time. He’d seen him die, and when he’d come back to, the teachers hadn’t been there. He’d checked, almost instinctively, as soon as air rushed into his lungs.
So, he got it. He didn’t complain, not even when, while talking about one thing or another, before leaving, he’d come closer and gently pressed his hand to Bakugou’s chest. He did it to push him back to lie down and rest, but Katsuki wasn’t an idiot. That was only an excuse. He did it to check and make sure his heart was beating.
He was sure that’s what it was actually for because his mom had done it about seven times now, and her shoulders would sag every time the same way Aizawa’s did just now.
He got it.
He got it around noon too, when the idiot parade came crashing into his room screaming and crying like the bunch of obnoxious morons they were. He yelled at them to shut the fuck up, they yelled back louder and cried even harder. He did them the courtesy of ignoring how they were eating him up with their eyes and how they kept touching him whenever they got close to him.
When his parents came by with lunch, neither of them mentioned how the bed was definitely not big enough for Ashido and Kirishima to be squished on both his sides. Nor how Kaminari and Sero would probably be more comfortable sitting in chairs than cramped at the foot of the bed. Bakugou was grateful, because with how unstable he had been since he woke up, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t end up crying himself again if either of them moved. Not that he’d ever tell them that.
He was just happy to see them all alive and well.
They told him about what they had been up to during the war, about what injuries they got and how none of them were that beaten up, really. Kaminari had had it the worst, apparently. He’d gone way, way past his usual limit. Bakugou nearly had an aneurism when Sparky revealed he actually only just woke up for the first time since the war ended yesterday evening around ten.
“It’s not that big of a deal! It was just, like, sleeping! I’m fine!”
“More like a coma…” Sero mumbled.
Never mind, he wanted them all gone. He couldn’t handle this right now.
At some point he must have fallen asleep. He isn’t sure how the hell that happened, with how loud and energetic his idiots were, but alas. He woke up to the laptop running quietly to the side, one movie or another playing. He was cuddled up into Ashido and, were his brain functioning properly, he probably would have shoved her right off the bed, but as it stood, he just squished more into her side. She didn’t say anything, just adjusted her hold better. Kirishima chuckled behind him, but he couldn’t be bothered to curse him out for it. This was the most comfortable he had been since the first night he woke up in this shitty ass bed.
The strangest visitor he had during that entire hospital stay happened the next day.
It was early. So early that the sky was still dark outside.
He blinked awake slowly to the feeling of a hand on his wrist. It was holding gently, but firmly over his pulse. This he was used to. What he wasn’t used to was the sight of a very quiet Monoma sitting with his legs to his chest and his chin on his knees, staring with a faraway look at where their hands were connected.
Maybe if he would have been more awake, he would have realized just how fucking weird this entire situation was, but he was still groggy, the room was spinning just a little bit and the memory of his friends around him was fresh in his head so, instead, all he did was flip his hand around to grab onto Monoma’s wrist and pull him closer. The other didn’t put up any resistance, just jumped a bit at the sudden movement before complying and pulling his chair forward. Bakugou pulled Monoma’s hand up until it was laying flat on his chest, right above his stubbornly beating heart.
The moment Copy Cat registered what was going on, he sagged. Bakugou pretended not to see the tears. It was only fair, because Monoma had been right there too, next to Aizawa. He’d watched all that happening. He’d seen him get his heart pulverized and paint the grass underneath his corpse with blood. If he hadn’t minded Aizawa’s hovering and double checking and triple checking, he’d be a hypocrite to not give Copy Cat the same courtesy.
So, they sat like that, neither of them saying a word, while the sun slowly rose in the horizon.
At some point Monoma moved his hand away to lie his head down and listen instead.
Bakugou didn’t mind. He got it.
He woke up again when Monoma pushed the chair back to get up. A blonde woman was whispering and pulling him back when she noticed Bakugou had woken up. She quietly apologized, both for her son bothering him and for waking him up, and then they were gone and he was alone.
He blinked one, twice, at the door.
She shouldn’t have apologized for Monoma. For once, he actually hadn’t bother him.
The next time he sees his friends, they ask if he wants them to do a videocall for the 3rd years’ graduation ceremony.
When he asked, honestly, why he’d give a fuck, Mina pouted at him and whined “Just cuz you’re stuck in here doesn’t mean you should miss it! It’s our first time seeing a UA graduation! You have to watch!”
“Yeah! I heard they’re really wild!” Kaminari added. “I heard one year it caused a fire.”
At that, Sero perks up from where he’d been lying with his Gameboy next to Bakugou. “Oh yeah! I heard some heroes talking in interviews about their graduation. You definitely need to see it, we’ll videocall you.”
“I don’t want a stupid videocall.”
“Too bad, you’re getting one!”
“Ugh.”
In reality, he’s not at all bothered. In fact, it’s quite fun to watch.
Mina is the one that calls him. He watches embarrassed as the teachers’ opening speech mentions the war and makes a point of naming Bakugou as one of the “key figures” along with Izuku and a bunch of other extras he doesn’t catch the names of. He can’t help but wonder what the fuck their graduation will be like while watching Mic treat the whole thing like an outdoor DJ session and he almost rips apart his stitching with how hard he’s laughing by the end of it all.
If that’s how it always goes, he hopes he’ll be allowed to destroy the backdrop when he graduates.
That evening, the idiot parade comes into his room with stolen snacks and drinks and party hats from the celebration. He can’t eat or drink any of it. His body barely manages to keep down the plain hospital shit they feed him at the moment; he doesn’t even want to entertain the idea of trying a biscuit. But the sight of the rest of them snacking and telling him about all the dumb shit the graduates did at the party and how Izuku was followed around by a hoard of fans the whole time and how the principal got drunk and started breakdancing and a bunch of other idiotic shit… He was content.
Two days later, Bakugou finally gets a visit from Recovery Girl.
She reveals she’d come by earlier in his stay, but his body had been too weak at the time. A kiss would have caused him more damage than anything. Now, however, he’s recovered enough of his stamina that it can go around and help with at least some of the damage.
She warns him it might take a lot out of him. He tells her to hurry the fuck up.
He’s asleep again before she has a chance to completely pull back.
Later that evening, as the doctor was going through all his test results and a nurse was giving his dad a list of all the meds and diets Bakugou would have to adhere to for the next few weeks, he was visited by Best Jeanist. He, too, roams his eyes all over him as soon as he enters the room.
He talks briefly to his parents and then proceeds to scold Bakugou for his recklessness, as if he isn’t fully fucking aware of it. Then he starts complimenting him for his courage and conviction. After that he goes straight back into complaining about how he’d jumped back to life for maybe three seconds before throwing himself back into the fight. And then he’s complimenting him again for rescuing All Might and defeating AFO and Bakugou is genuinely getting dizzy from all the switch-ups in this conversation.
When his parents leave the room, Jeanist sighs tiredly, sits down on the edge of the bed and pulls out his phone.
“If you would be so inclined to, Edgeshot requested I give him a call when I came to visit. He’d like to talk to you.”
Bakugou feels like a bucket of ice was dropped over his head. His left hand, almost instinctively, goes over his chest. Jeanist follows the movement with an expression Katsuki can’t decipher.
The call does happen.
Edgeshot cheerfully greets him while Jeanist gets up and moves to look outside the window. Bakugou isn’t sure what to say, doesn’t know how to really express the cyclone of emotions fighting within him, so he simply listens.
Edgeshot does nothing but comfort him the entire time.
He says he is glad Bakugou is alright. He mentions how glad he is the doctors went over his stitches to make sure he would heal right, because he’d been worried he hadn’t done a good job (Bakugou wonders, but doesn’t ask, how he even knew about that). He reassures him that he himself is fine, that he is healing, though slowly, and that the boy has nothing to worry about or fret over.
He tells Bakugou that were he put in that same position again, he’d do the same thing over and over, no matter what. Because he believes it the right thing to do, because he knows, knows, Bakugou will become an amazing hero.
Katsuki doesn’t know when he starts crying, but by the time the phone call ends, Jeanist is silently comforting him. He’s shit at it, but it helps him calm down anyway.
Seventeen days after he is admitted into the hospital, Bakugou is released, with strict instructions and diet plans, back into his parents’ care. The first day of school is in five days, though he is allowed to skip it if he doesn’t feel up to it.
As if!
He’ll march in there kicking and screaming if he has to, he’s not missing the first day of his 2nd year!
The dorms will open up again a week after that. It’s not mandatory anymore, but the students are more than welcome to reclaim their rooms. Bakugou already knows not a single one of his classmates is gonna skip on that, not after what they all went through.
His stay at home is a sort of test run for that. For him to see if he can manage on his own with a weak right arm and a nondominant arm as his only functional one.
It’s hard. His hand shakes from the awkward movements its not used to, sometimes it even hurts after prolonged use. He needs to relearn to write properly and eat and wash himself and get dressed and put shoes on, all with one hand.
To be honest, it kind of sucks. But hell will freeze over before he lets something as meager as a broken arm get in the way of his success damn it!!
The first night in his own room and bed, he can’t sleep.
He pulls out his phone and looks up the videos he knows are out there of the war, of his own fight.
He watches himself die.
Goes back and watches it again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
Silently, he crawls out of his bed, opens the door and walks down the hallway. Somehow, he isn’t surprised to see both his parents are still awake in their bedroom. He isn’t sure what his face looks like right now, he’s not really feeling like himself at the moment. It feels like he’s hovering over his own shoulder, watching his own body move.
His parents say something, but he doesn’t register it. All he knows is one moment he’s swaying in the doorway and the next he’s lying down under the covers between them. His head is buried between the pillow and his dad’s shoulder. His left hand is holding on for dear life onto his dad and his mom is behind him, slightly bent over his back, running her hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp and talking. He thinks he’s crying, but he’s not sure.
When he wakes up it’s noon and he’s exhausted.
His dad’s at work, but his mom is sitting next to him in bed, reading.
When she notices that he’s awake, she makes him sit up and take his pills. Somehow, he manages to drink water and eat a small bowl of soup before he buries himself back under the blanket. She cleans up and resumes her spot next to him. Soon she starts reading out loud. He still doesn’t recognize the words for what they are, but the noise is nice. Her hand on his shoulder is even nicer.
The first two nights outside of the hospital, after the war, Bakugou spends sleeping between his parents like a child. And he can’t even be mad about it because it’s the best sleep he’s had in months.
The first night back at the dorms feels surreal.
There are so many people around and they’re so fucking loud and annoyingly comforting.
A dancing game is blasting on TV with a few of his classmates getting absolutely destroyed by Ashido, a bunch of people are cheering for them on top of the couches, others are sitting at the table stuffing their faces and chatting and some are sitting on the floor playing some board game or another.
Bakugou is sitting on the couch to the side, between Aizawa and Yamada. The two pro heroes had both looked at him like he grew another head when he initially dropped there, but they never stopped him or told him off for it. The extras were being too much, way too much, but he didn’t want to be alone right now and, though he would rather chew out his own leg than admit it out loud, the two teachers had become a very comforting presence in his life.
At some point, Yamada had started massaging his right hand. He must have been really out of it, because he only really noticed when the ministrations stopped, once Aizawa got up and started ushering people to bed.
“It’s 2 Am and tomorrow is a school day. I know you’re all excited, but you still need to get some sleep. You can celebrate some more in the weekend.”
Some complained, but most didn’t. They quieted down and quickly started cleaning before making their ways to their respective rooms.
Bakugou felt like he should help them, but between one blink and the next he was sitting on his bed with Aizawa next to him making sure he took all his pills and instructing him to call him if he needed anything, no matter the hour. He was too tired to really get offended at the implications that he couldn’t take care of himself though, so he let it slide.
It wasn’t even ten minutes after the teachers left that his door opened again.
He stared with an unimpressed raised eyebrow as Ashido and Kaminari walked in on tip toes as if they were in a spy movie. Behind them, Sero wore a matching judgmental stare, whereas Kirishima was just laughing. Bakugou rolled his eyes and threw a pillow at the two idiots now crawling on the floor.
Before long, his floor was covered in blankets and pillows. A movie was playing on the laptop, but no one was really paying it any attention, it was just good background noise. An excuse.
Bakugou didn’t mind them being there. He was actually really glad he wouldn’t have to spend his first night back alone. Not that he’d ever tell them that of course, they were already obnoxious enough without the knowledge that their presence was infinitely reassuring and comforting.
Halfway through the night, he woke up with a start. He couldn’t remember what he’d been dreaming about, but his hands were shaking and his breathing was coming out harder than usual and something at the back of his mind was screaming at him to run. But before his body could comprehend the command and act on it, a hand sneaked around his torso and a warm body clung to his back. He froze.
“Don’t worry Kacchan.” A very sleepy voice mumbled into the back of his neck. “We got you…”
He blinked.
He knew that voice.
Almost instantly, the adrenaline that had been shaking under his skin seemed to dissipate. And along with that came the gradual recognition of his current situation.
He was in his room, at the dorms. The arm that had already gone slack around him was Kaminari’s who, for some reason, was in bed with him instead of in the cuddle pile on the floor. He had half a mind to kick him off and watch the chaos it would bring. Instead, he grabbed the other’s hand and held it firmly.
In the morning, he found Mina also in bed with them and he did kick them both off.
They never really talked about this weird sleeping arrangement, but for about a month, every night, without fail, at least one of his friends would sneak into his room with a pillow and a blanket and crash in bed next to him. Aizawa clearly knew what was going on, but he didn’t say anything about it other than a reminder to keep it down on a particular Tuesday, when Sero and Kaminari couldn’t stop laughing for a solid ten minutes.
Bakugou never told them to leave or yelled at them for coming in without even knocking. Having them there was just too nice. And once Kaminari and Kirishima managed to charm their way into Shinso’s personal space, Eyebags started getting dragged to their impromptu sleepovers too.
It was during one of those nights, when Sero and Mina were knocked out and Bakugou and Shinsou were sitting in bed quietly watching a youtube video about a game neither of them have ever heard of in their life that Eyebags turned to him and very quietly said:
“I heard there was a video with your guys’ fight, but knowing what happened I kind of avoided watching it for a while. But I saw it yesterday. It was pretty badass. I’m glad you’re alive.”
Bakugou didn’t know how to reply to that.
He’s had nightmares to deal with since he woke up in the hospital. Sometimes they were pretty unremarkable and would simply startle him awake. Other times he’d wake up in a fit of panic and would shake like a leaf for ages unless someone was there to help him calm down.
Recently though, his dreams had gotten less plagued by the feeling of his chest ripping apart. He woke up more rested by the day.
His right hand was weak and sometimes it would have this faint tingle in it. He went to physical therapy every week and got massages from Kirishima, Izuku or one of the teachers every other day. His milestones included being able to hold a pen, lift a mug and button up his shirt.
A few days ago, he managed to write a full, legible sentence and Mina, Hagakure and Uraraka screamed so loud his ears rang for a few minutes after.
He couldn’t really work out properly or participate in most of the physical classes. He was usually sat to the side with Aizawa or another teacher’s watchful eye half on the class and half on him as he did the light exercises the doctors wrote down for him.
Last week he’d started going on morning runs with Todoroki and Shinsou.
Recovering was hard. It was slow, exhausting and annoying and sometimes he wanted nothing more than to bash his head on the nearest surface just so he wouldn’t have to deal with any of it anymore. But then his dad would call him to check up on him, Aizawa would look at him with those proud eyes when he’d see Bakugou’s progress, Sero would take his arm in his and start massaging it because it was apparently unfair that only Kirishima knew what to do and he wanted to learn and help as well, Izuku, Uraraka and Todoroki would join him whenever he’d go on a run or a light workout, his idiots would drag their entire bedrooms into his and turn it into a giant, cozy pillow fort and refuse to let him escape from their cuddles.
Recovery sometimes made him want to sleep for three days straight.
But he was glad he was alive too.