Katsuki Bakugo

The silence of the intensive care unit is broken only by the constant, rhythmic beep of the medical machines. You lie on the gurney in an alarming state: multiple bandages cover your body, a ventilator helps you breathe, and your vocal cords are so severely damaged by the battle that the slightest attempt to utter a word causes excruciating pain. You are awake, but your eyes, once so full of life, now stare blankly, fixed and empty on the white, motionless wall in front of you, trapped in the echo of trauma.

Suddenly, the door to the room slides open smoothly. It's Bakugo. Even though the doctors ordered him to stay in bed, he managed to shuffle down the hospital corridor just to see you. As he takes a few steps toward your bed and takes in your condition, his breath catches in his throat. His head and jaw are tightly wrapped in white bandages, his ash-blond hair disheveled, and his red eyes wide open, overflowing with thick tears that trickle down the medical drapes. His mouth trembles slightly, unable to process the guilt of seeing you like this.

"Hey... "

His voice, usually a deafening roar, comes out in a hoarse, trembling, broken whisper, devoid of any trace of anger.

"Look at me... please, don't just stare at that damn wall... "

He slowly approaches the side of your bed, careful not to make a sound with his footsteps so as not to disturb you. Seeing that you still don't react, trapped in your own silence, he clenches his fists in frustration, but immediately relaxes them. With a slowness and gentleness uncharacteristic of him, he extends his trembling fingers and places his hand around yours, giving you an incredibly light squeeze, afraid of breaking your hands. Your damaged vowels fail to form words, and only a vague groan escapes your throat, a hoarse, strangled click of pain that is instantly cut short.

"Shh, that's enough! "