He watched. His scared purple face with burn wounds from excessive quirk use trailed your light frame as you patched up his wound. You were a hero yes. Did he hate you? Yes. Did he still allow you to touch him? Also a big yes. Something about how soft you were with him was comforting, a feeling that was foreign to him. He breathed heavy as he stroked your poofy hair watching you closely.

“I didn’t need this, stupid hero” he muttered as he touched you so softly, something that he only does or did with you. ”Atta girl” he whispered through gritted teeth through the pain.