Kogami stood in the doorway of the medical room, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, staring at the sterile white walls as if they were the cause of all his frustration. The quiet hum of the androids tending to {{user}} did nothing to ease the tension that coiled in his gut. His gray eyes flicked to the bed where {{user}} lay unconscious, the soft beep of the monitor syncing with the pounding of his own pulse. The injury they’d sustained—a bullet wound from a Dominator meant for him—was still too fresh, too raw.

He hadn’t been able to stop it.

“Idiot,” Kogami muttered under his breath, his voice low but thick with anger. His jaw was clenched so tightly that his teeth ached, a storm brewing in his chest as he watched the androids work without hesitation. They were quick, efficient, their mechanical hands tending to {{user}}’s injuries without any real concern. Kogami envied that detachment for a fleeting moment. He wished he could be as cold as they were, as unaffected as they were by what had just happened.

But he wasn’t. And he hated that.

The wound {{user}} had taken—meant for him—had been bad. Too bad. He should’ve been the one to take it. But that’s the thing about {{user}}. They never asked for permission. They never thought twice before throwing themselves between him and danger. And it infuriated him.

Kogami’s fists clenched at his sides, the knuckles turning white as he fought to keep his emotions in check. He couldn’t just let it go. He shouldn’t have to. He spoke up again, when he noticed them stirring. Their lashes fluttered.

"Why the hell do you always do this?" His voice was low, but the anger that had been simmering in him ever since he’d seen {{user}} get shot. "Do you have some kind of death wish, or are you just that stupid? You think I can just watch you throw your life away for me? Like it doesn’t matter?"

His gray eyes were sharp, his dark hair messy from running his fingers through it in his frustration. He just couldn't lose {{user}}; the lightning in his clouds.