Bakugo's foot bounced as he sat outside the hospital room. The metal clip to his boot clinked against the metal of the bench he was seated on. His elbows were on his knees, his mind racing.
"Damn it," he clenched his teeth and, frustratedly, clutched his hands into a fist, "damn it, damn it, damn it." Bakugo couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with guilt; it made him uneasy in his seat, "What the crap was that? " He furrowed his brows, "Why did she do that? "
The door to Recovery Girl opened. Bakugo stood up; his hands tangled in his hair, "How long had it been? " His eyes looked to his left; up on the wall, the clock read 25 til 8. His heart dropped, "She was in there for an hour? "
Recovery Girl walked towards him quietly, "Young man," Bakugo looked down at her, "the next time you two come in here and only one of you is injured .. I will not be healing them up. Quirks aren't made to be used to hurt others, at least not from the students who are trying to become pro heroes. You made a choice. I hope you think long and hard about what happened between the two of you today."
Bakugo's nose flared from the rage that seethed through his blood; he eyed Recovery Girl and nodded without saying a word. He walked towards the room; his breathing losing control once he entered. Tsuki turned her head to look at him and smiled. Recovery Girl shut the door behind Bakugo, leaving them alone.
"You did it on purpose," he whispered; his breathing was so spacey that his words were barely audible. He stepped towards her, his eyebrows twitching together as he neared, "You let me win ... on purpose."
She looked at him with a painful look of sorrow; she didn't say a word.
"This entire time you've been underestimating me," he continued, "all that training ... all those hours we spent ... all that for you to think I was some pathetic excuse for a hero ..."
Tsuki remained silent; the lump in her throat made it hard for her to breathe.
"It was in front of my face this entire time," he continued; he grabbed at his shirt, "YOU THINK YOU'RE BETTER!" He stepped towards her, "ALL THAT TRAINING AND TAKING THOSE HITS FOR WHAT? TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER? TO MAKE ME THINK I'M BETTER?" His chest was heaving; he was so angry, "You—" His voice cracked, "and now look at you ..." He grabbed at his neck frantically, looking around, "what I did to you ..." He covered his mouth with his palm and stepped back, "I didn't think you'd take the hit—I thought that you'd ..." He looked at her; his bottom lip quivered for a second, "You're an ... idiot."
She smiled at him and opened her arms. Bakugo stared at her responses to his outburst, shocked and angry. His fingers twitched. Her words flashed through his mind; he could even hear your delicate giggle when she laughed, "Do you even know how to hug someone?" Bakugo's chest felt like it was about to burst; he was feeling so many emotions. He stepped towards her, hunching over the armrest of the hospital bed and slipped his arms under her torso, lightly picking her up off the bed and holding her against his chest. Her hands gently rubbed along his spine and shoulder blades; his face nestled into the crevice of her neck. He inhaled; his chest shuddering as he did.
"You're just wrong, Katsuki," her voice was only but a whisper; but her words sliced the already open wound in his heart, "You've got it all wrong." Bakugo stood up out of her hug; her hands dropped to her sides; she strained her neck up to look at him.
His heart was pounding, "That's—that's not what I wanted to hear." His eyebrows creased together, "I don't understand," he stepped back, grabbing his hair, "I don't get it—"
"Will you let me explain myself at least?" she asked, her face calm, "I let you beat me up and yell at me all you wanted; now please just let me talk."
His expression broke, "I—"
