The steady beeping was like the ticking of a clock. Steady, regular, maddening the longer he listened and the more he paid attention to it. A lifeline that he clung to. The moment before each beat he could feel his own heartbeat stuttered, his breath catch, fear clawing at him as he dreaded that the sound would not come again. The time between each beep seemed to stretch, teasing him, torturing him, causing him to clench his fist and bite his lip in an attempt to keep himself grounded and stop himself from losing his mind as he feared that he might.
"Hey." A soft shove of his shoulder broke him from his thoughts.
Bakugo blinked, breathed, unhunched his shoulders and tried to release the tension in his muscles. The room slowly came into focus, no longer the blur of white that had over taken his vision. The white walls made it easy to zone out. The colorless sheets likewise blended with the walls and it was easy to ignore or avoid the small splash of color before him. Easy to pretend that he couldn't see the dark hair spread out on the pillow, easy to ignore the too pale arm that lay too still and too stiff, easy to avoid the sight of the tubes, so many tubes...
A hand was on his shoulder, shaking him, gripping him, and he causing him to finally look up and see Todoroki standing over him. There was a look on his face that Bakugo hated. Soft, concerned, as if he were weak. Bakugo didn't have the energy to punch him in the face, to scowl, to yell, so he just looked away, back to the bed. Back to the sight he had tried so hard not to see before.
"I got this for you." Todoroki held the coffee out to him, not seeming to take any offense to the fact that Bakugo was basically ignoring him. Then again, how could anything like that matter when she was laying on the bed like a mummy, wrapped in so many bandages that he nearly couldn't distinguish her body from the sheets. He had to hunt for skin, eyes moving methodically over the bed to search out the pale flesh that peeked out from sheets and bandages and... sickness.
His hands tightened around the cup. He had to hold himself still or else risk crushing it in his hand and spilling hot coffee all over himself. It wasn't a bad idea, if he were honest. It was a satisfying idea. Something to distract, if only for a moment, something to clear his mind of the overwhelming white that overwhelmed his sight. His hands began to tighten on the cup again.
Todoroki placed hand on Bakugo's, making him still. It was cold, a contrast to the heat of the cup. It was... unpleasant. All of this was unpleasant. He clung to it like a desperate man, dropping the coffee and grabbing hold of Todoroki's hand, his arm, his shoulder. Todoroki kept the cup in his own hand like the reaction was expected. It couldn't have been expected when Bakugo hadn't known he would do this, hadn't known he would find himself clinging to his rival with tears forcing themselves from his eyes despite his best efforts. Had not expected to find himself breaking down finally when he had been holding himself together all this time, even if it was by a thread, he'd been doing it.
A single touch. A single touch was all it took to break him. A single kindness that he didn't even want, didn't even partake of, didn't even...
"Fuck." The word forced itself pass his lips. His fingers were digging into Todoroki, into his arm and shoulder as he held onto the bastard tightly. Then more words forced themselves out of him. "Who asked you to come in here and..." He couldn't finish. He couldn't articulate his anger, his sorrow, his frustration with both.
"I miss her too," Todoroki said quietly. "Momo is strong, though, she'll wake up. I know she will."
Bakugo wanted to believe him. He wanted desperately to believe. He hoped that Todoroki was right, that if any of them could beat this, it would be her. But it had already been days, too many to count, more than he wanted to count, and he hadn't seen her so much as twitch.
Todoroki had brought flowers. Once Bakugo had stopped clinging to him like a child, an action which went thankfully unacknowledged, he went about making the room look lively, lived in, colorful. It made something ease within him to see the splashes of color and life as he watched Todoroki move around the room.
There was a vase placed on the table of either side of the bed, on the window ledge, in the opposite corners of the room, followed by the placing of many different flowers. Red and white roses crammed together in one vase, tall orange flowers that Bakugo couldn't name, and small blue ones that Bakugo recognized as her favorite even though he couldn't name them. It was stupid and comforting that Todoroki covered the room in their colors. Red and orange, even the white was acceptable when bundled with the red.
"The coffee will get cold if you don't drink it," Todoroki sad. He wasn't looking at Bakugo when he spoke and that was a relief for reasons that he couldn't name.
"I don't care," he answered. Bakugo probably needed it. He needed the coffee, needed sleep, and was glad that he wasn't being told what to do directly. They both knew that Bakugo spent too much time here. He was probably dropping in the charts or would be soon if Momo didn't wake up.
"You could read to her," Todoroki told him. "She might be able to hear it."
Bakugo nearly snapped at him in response. She was in a come, she couldn't hear shit! She couldn't move, she was barely aliv- He viciously cut the thought short. Stomped down on it with a fury that he usually saved for villains.
"Why don't you do it?" he said instead, choking on his anger instead of verbalizing it.
"I was going to," Todoroki answered. "I thought you might appreciate having something to do."
Bakugo hated Todoroki. He hated that Todoroki was just as good as him, if not better, in hero work, resent that they chased each other in the charts so frequently, was jealous of their long standing friendship, and was insulted by the way he had come to understand Bakugo and meet him on his level. He hated the fact that they had become friends, better friends than he ever wanted or would ever admit. He hated knowing that he cared about her as much as Bakugo did, hated that he didn't know if she knew it too.
Todoroki was right that Bakugo needed something to do, but wrong to think that Bakugo could do it. Wrong to think that Bakugo could be anything but a completely wreck until Momo woke up.
Todoroki didn't wake for an answer, nor did he attempt prying a response from Bakugo. He just took a book out of his bag and began to read.
Bakugo hadn't considered that he would have to listen if Todoroki began reading. He didn't want to be read to like a child, but this wasn't about him. This was for Momo. He could imagine her sitting up, smiling at him, knowing that he was irritated and finding it sweet that he would hold his tongue for her sake. God he missed her. His hand stretched out toward the bed, stopping before he touched, fingers slowly curling in and away from her.
She was already so broken and he had only ever been rough in demeanor. Would she break that much more if he took her hand, kissed her forehead? Would she turn to dust beneath him? This place was making him go mad and he wasn't even sure why.
"It's okay, you know," Todoroki said without looking up from the book.
"What do you know?" Bakugo replied. All the same, he felt oddly encouraged. Slowly, more cautious than he had ever been with her before, he reach out to place his fingers on top of hers. A few moments later he placed his palm flat on her hands, intertwined their fingers, trapped her hand between both of his. There were a million little motions and touches that he he moved their hands into. It took all of his focus and it was a long time before he realized that Todoroki had started reading, stopped again, because Bakugo was sobbing again. Loudly, openly, shamefully.
He hated this.
He missed her.
Bakugo buried his face in her side and unleashed the pent up emotions that had been slowly swelling in chest. He could hardly breath he sobbing so hard. He was afraid that he would hurt her with how tightly his hands were gripping her own.
Todoroki's hand rested gently on top of Bakugo's head. He hated that he was taking comfort in the action, but he did. It was good not to be alone in this, not to be the only one that missed her. It was nice to have someone pull him back from the edge of despair as he waited for her to come back to him.
And she would come back. She had to. He needed her to. He would cling to the thought as tightly as he could, let it be the single thing holding him together, and he would accept that Todoroki would be his company in this hell.
"Please wake up soon," Bakugo begged. "Please."
