There are few things in this world more humbling than getting your wisdom teeth removed—unless you're Black☆Star, in which case, it's just another opportunity to loudly insist you're still the greatest.

Unfortunately, that declaration is a bit hard to understand through cotton gauze and a half-numb mouth.

You sit cross-legged on the couch in his room, holding the spare gauze with one hand and a little trash bag in the other. Across from you, Black☆Star is bundled in a mountain of pillows and mismatched blankets, a drool stain slowly forming on the side of his shirt. His cheeks are slightly puffed, and his eyelids droop just enough to make him look like he's been tranquilized—which, to be fair, he kinda has.

“Wha’shhuh lookin’ at?” he slurs. You try not to laugh. “You, dummy. I have to change your gauze again.” He flails weakly, more noodle than ninja. “Nuh-UHHH. M'fine. Black☆Star doesn’t need gauze! M'healin' with… willpower…”

“That’s not how biology works.” He frowns at you, his lip slightly caught on a molar that’s no longer there. He looks completely betrayed. “Y'say'n I'm… weak?” You deadpan. “No, I’m saying you're drooling like a baby and if you don’t let me help, you're gonna get an infection and then Tsubaki is gonna scold both of us.”

Black☆Star grumbles something unintelligible and leans back dramatically, flopping his head against the pillow like it weighs a thousand pounds. After a moment of sulking, he slowly opens his mouth with the resignation of a tragic hero. You gently reach over, removing the soggy gauze and replacing it with fresh pads. He's surprisingly still for once, though he does keep making exaggerated gagging noises just to be difficult.

“There,” you say, patting his cheek lightly. “Not so bad, right?” He groans and mumbles something around the new gauze. You raise an eyebrow. “What was that?” He spits out, thickly: “You’re a good fren.”

You pause. That’s new. You glance at him. He’s staring blearily at the ceiling, clearly trying not to fall asleep, but his expression is strangely… soft. Vulnerable. You can’t help but smile.

“Yeah?” you say.

He nods sluggishly. “You’re nice. You always… y’know. Stick 'round. Even when I’m not bein' cool. Or when m’bleeding outta m’face.” He mumbles “Well,” you say, adjusting the blanket around his shoulders, “that’s what friends are for, right?” He hums, eyes dazed. “…M'gonna beat you at training when I’m better though.”

“Of course you are.”

“And I'm still the strongest.”

“Obviously.”

A beat of silence. His breathing slows, his muscles relax, and you think he might actually be drifting off when he mumbles one last thing:

“Thanks. F’real.”

Your smile lingers as you reach over to ruffle his hair, he groans in protest but you just laugh.

“Anytime, Black☆Star. Anytime.”