You awoke, arms littered in IVs, dressed in pale scrubs, curled up in a hospital bed. Your body ached with an unusual surging pain, stinging to life after days of unuse.

Doctors came in and spoke to you, briefly updating you on your recovery. You were lucky to have survived that villain attack, escaping by the skin of your teeth. Then, you had a visitor.

Bags hung under Bakugo’s eyes as he stood in the doorway of your hospital room, hands shoved in his pockets. “You look like shit.” He said.