Uraraka makes a promise to help
"Ya know, it's okay to say you care." She offers quietly, unafraid to stare right into him.
"What?" Bakugou hates how she does this. Always calling him out on his shit. He. Hates. It.
Mostly because she's on-the-nose and this is the worst fucking time to do it.
"I know you do...or, did," she says with a harsh cough.
He leans forward when he hears a small rattle to it.
That wasn't there this morning.
Uraraka continues, pulling his attention back to her words. "I haven't figured out what happened though. Did I do something wrong?"
He needs to get her off this trail. Away from this topic. "Uraraka, you're barely on my mind for the hour and a half we're at Ground Beta, what the fuck makes you think you impact anything else I do? Just eat." He says guiltily.
She does not read his question as rhetorical.
"Well, we used to hang out. But now, you don't ask me to go to the gym or train outside of class anymore. And when we are together, you're super short with me, seem bothered touching me, and you act like I'm...like…" Uraraka sucks in a breath, and he can tell she's trying not to cry by the strain in her voice. "I just feel like I'm an annoyance to you. Something you're putting up with. And I don't know what happened."
Can he stop her? He really wants to stop her because touching her, and being around her is precisely what he wants to do, but it just hurts him so damn bad.
"If you don't want to partner anymore, just say so." She says with the same directness that always catches him off guard. "But, I'd like to solve this...if we can."
She's not like Kirishima, she doesn't make excuses or speak for him. She analyzes his stupid ass out loud to him like she's reading a book, and demands accountability more than anything.
Now he's backed into a corner and wishes she'd kept her observations to herself. All he wants to do is help her feel better, not turn lunch into a therapy session.
A slam of his fist on the table rattles the dishes and sloshes the soup, but it doesn't have any effect on Uraraka. She keeps staring, waiting, refusing to back down with her furrowed brow and stern expression, and puffy cheeks, and holy shit.
"Oi! There's nothing to "solve"! None of this is about you! I've just had other things to do. You're not the only person I hang out with." He lies, more or less.
Kirishima would be the other person or the numskull squad that's always following him, but he's been avoiding them too because hacking up blood every now and then is a hard thing to hide.
"Just because we've been assigned together doesn't mean my life revolves around you! If it bothers you so damn much, then maybe you do need another partner." He shouts.
He immediately regrets the suggestion when Uraraka's determined glare falls into a confused frown.
Please don't, he thinks, turning away from her face, anxious she'll take up the offer. His heart is suddenly loud and booming like the rush of a jet engine, right in his ears.
It is true, his life does not revolve around her, but he doesn't say how she simply fits into it like a piece of a puzzle. Though, he's doesn't have it in him to hear her reject the thought either. Things have to be better this way.
Uraraka's mouth snaps shut then gapes like a fish out of water. "That's not...I didn't mean…" she puts a hand to her chest.
His stomach begins to churn, and his throat feels full. It's the telltale sign that what's about to happen next is coming fast and can't be stopped.
"I guess…" she starts.
But he doesn't hear the rest, because he shoots up from the floor, triggered by what sounds like her acquiescing. He searches for something, anything, someplace where he can throw up.
Spotting her wastebasket gives temporary relief as he lunges for it, then feels the prickly, crawling sensation of budding Tsubaki flowers climbing up his esophagus.
He usually has time to get somewhere safe. But he can smell the blood before it's fully risen.
Then he vomits.
Heaving and gasping, his body shudders.
"Gods!" He hears her gasp. "Bakugou!" She says it with what sounds like a sob.
Without warning, her hands are on him, rubbing along his shoulders, gliding along his spine and grasping at the back of his neck in a fruitless attempt at comfort.
His heart lurches.
Uraraka's touch, ironically, makes everything worse.
The sting of tears in his eyes clouds his vision as wave after wave of muscle spasms hit his sides and back so his body can release the flowers growing inside him. The flowers that are draining him of life to bloom. Flowers blooming for her - and how the fuck is he going to explain it!
"Stop." He gulps, wheezing for breath. "Stop. Stop touching me!" He cries out, swatting her hands. "I don't need your help!" He adds for good measure, praying it pushes her further away.
He spits a few more times.
The only thing coming out now is blood, meaning, the worst is over.
"Bakugou, no! Oh my gosh, you do need help! That's….that's…"
"I know what it is." He snaps at her, breathing heavily. He watches her look for something around the room, and she comes back to him with a rag.
"Here."
"Thanks." He wipes his mouth and clears the sweat he can feel on his brow.
"I have some lozenges still, from…" she pauses for a moment, cringing a bit. "...from helping Deku. He had it up until…"
"There's nothing you can do to help me." He breathes out harshly, reaffirming his earlier vow before promptly grimacing at how much it hurts to deny her.
"That's not true. All you had to do was say something." She says quietly. Kneeling right beside him.
It's still way too hard to take a deep breath to respond, and having her so near is agonizing, making each draw for air all the more painful.
"Ehh?"
"All this time...is that what it was?" She asks with a crack in her voice, clearing her throat.
Bakugou almost chokes. He sifts through the past thirty minutes of conversation to see how she could possibly know. She's smart, but...he didn't say shit. Is being here...is he….is this too much?
"You didn't have to...push me away." She says with some measure of uncertainty. She looks like she's in pain, and all he can think about is how the hell to respond.
"Obviously you don't have to tell me who it is, but I would've understood..err...I do understand! I can help! Those flowers aren't too big yet," she says, wrinkling her nose as she looks at the contents of the waste bin. "...So your lungs must still be partly clear, that means you have some time."
Oh, thank the gods! The last thing he wants is for her to go all "hero" on him and try to "help" by offering something out of pity. He refuses. If she doesn't like him because it's what she wants, then his brain won't let him go there. It's impossible. No matter how much his heart is screaming at him.
"You really don't like to listen. Why do I surround myself with people that don't listen?" He raises the question, looking up at the ceiling. Relieved that this isn't going where he thought.
"Because I don't want anything to happen to you!" she declares.
His eyes drop down quick, raking over her face. The emotion in her words makes his palms tingle and his chest tugs a bit too tight for comfort.
"We don't," she amends, motioning around her in reference to their classmates. Then adds, "And, judging how Operation: Red-White & Green went, I'm really good at matchmaking!" She coughs a bit before reaching back to grab a tissue from beside her bed and blowing her nose. "You need me!"
Oh if only she knew.
"Tch" he responds, the shift in conversation is a bit jarring, but she's not connecting anything to her.
Now would be the perfect time to correct her, to tell her.
But he doesn't. Can't.
But...if he's going to die anyway, then he can indulge her. This way he can assure her she did everything she could when it's time.
"Fucking fine…First off..." he starts, making himself more comfortable against the wall next to her wastebasket. "...now you know. I don't need you going around blabbing about this shit to everyone so keep it to your goddamn self." He knows she won't, but pretenses must be maintained.
"Of course. I'd never do that to you." She responds with a sincere look of concern
Wanting to somehow sigh into her words is the stupidest feeling he's ever had, and yet here he is, actively stopping his body from trying to get closer.
He wants her to stop talking but the things she says are addicting, and he's a glutton for these brief moments of pleasure before the pain.
"Second...I'm sorry." He says, still having trouble breathing. "I'm sorry I did that to you when this isn't your fault."
Her smile is small but genuinely impressed. "I forgive you, I know how you get when everything's a bit much. This has to be super scary for you. I'm sorry I took it so personally."
Oh, it's very personal, he thinks. "Okay Uraraka, say I do accept...your help. What could you do?"
"Oh." She looks put on the spot like she never in a million years expected him to actually entertain the idea of "help."
"Oh, well, I could, give you ideas for dates, or talk through a bunch of ideas for getting to know them until you find something that might work. If...if you...tell me who it is, I can…" the words seem to be sticking like peanut butter on the roof of a mouth. "...help, maybe, set up an ideal situation for...maximum bonding."
He nods, not interested in whatever she's picturing, omstly because, he's here now, and it's not working. "...Okay, just…." what the fuck is he doing! "...finish your damn soup," he shoos her back. "And we can talk."
Secret out, Bakugou has no qualms with dragging the wastebasket to the table with him. He then uncovers the last dish to reveal two perfectly molded mochi bites.
"This is motivation to hurry your ass up and get back in bed. Even if you can't work out, I gotta go back and finish all my sets."
"Oh my goodness! I was wondering what was under that!" She claps once in delight. " As far as your problem goes, this is step one right here! Whoever the lucky, err...person, is - get them food that they love!"
Uraraka delicately starts to slurp through the remainder of her soup, eyeballing the mochi like a prize. "Better yet," she brings her attention back to her bowl. "...cook them this! Ugh, they'll fall in love with you for sure."
If that's all it takes then why doesn't she...want him?
"Oh yeh? What else might work since you're apparently the expert." He asks, searching for clues like a hound on a scent.
"I never said I'm an expert! I'm just a girl who's...had feelings before and...I...that's beside the point. The point is...if they don't reciprocate now, then maybe it's because they don't know you very well or, you haven't been very nice."
"Oi! I'm a nice fucking guy." And she knows him better than she thinks.
"I know that! But sometimes people only see what you show them, and don't bother to look deeper. And you can be...intimidating." She laughs, fidgeting with her finger pads. "That would be a shame though because there's so much to like."
"Do tell Cheeks." He chuckles smokily, tightening his fist below the table at the burst of ache she's causing in his chest. He's too giddy and hates how all too ready he feels to throw away his convictions and just tell her it's her. Every word out of her mouth is sweet agony gripping him like a vice.
Can he just pull her in and see what happens?
Then what? Give her a chance to say he's got it all wrong? Nah, fuck that.
"Well, you're very straightforward, and that's important for communication. But, I guess, there are sometimes you don't know how to talk about things, so hopefully, it's someone that sees that." She says, putting up a finger to begin a count.
"You're super strong, but you let other people know how they're strong too, even without muscle." She coughs a bit before striking a pose to show off her biceps.
He smiles at her enthusiasm and her praise - and wow does it sting.
"...people should have partners that challenge them without breaking them, and you do that! Uhh...let's see, you can cook." She takes another spoonful of her soup for emphasis, holding up three fingers with her free hand. "You're funny, independent, driven, smart, good looking." She counts off all of her fingers and then waves them all off like she realized it's pointless to count, and he does his best to contain a confident smile. Then again, it must be pretty fucking easy when she's talking about a hypothetical person liking these things and not herself.
"Trust me. I think whoever it is just doesn't know the real you yet. Maybe they've only seen the loud, and abrasive version of you and think that's it."
He's almost afraid to ask, but it will keep up the act. "So what do I do then, expert?"
There's a pause while she slurps from her bowl, seemingly thinking through her answer. When she puts it down, she wipes at the table where a little liquid spilled with a tissue. "It's tough to say without knowing who. Do they go here?" She says, anxiously swirling the tissue in circles over liquid that's no longer there.
He nods.
"Is it someone we know?" She asks, looking away.
He nods again. "Yeh."
He sees the most minute of movements as her throat bobs, and he narrows in on her expression. She's uncomfortable, and he really wants to know why.
"Then I won't ask anymore, in case that gives anything away. But, umm, we know our classmates well. So do things like, the hobby they enjoy, together." She giggles and coughs a bit, gasping like she can't catch her breath before popping a mochi into her mouth.
He can hear the rattling sound through her chest again and the gasp at the end...and there's no way...
...Kirishima said she's okay.
She offers him the other mochi, and he declines, surveying her for any recognition on her part.
She happily pops the mochi into her mouth. "we know what almost everyone in class likes so go with that," she says while still chewing. "Or invite them to spend the day together and then ask them what they want to do!"
"That sounds like too much trouble." Now he's full of ideas. Things he would never normally dream of doing, but he suddenly has a great need to act on. If only to see if they have any effect on her.
"You say that, but you're here feeding me, and I'm just sick. What's some more effort if it's for the person you love!"
He must look like he's about to protest because she narrows her eyes at him and throws a hand up into his face.
"And don't try and deny it. You do. At the very least, you "like them-like them" A LOT, if you wanna be a kid about it." She says with a puff of her cheeks.
"You don't get Hanahaki over some schoolyard crush. You care deeply for this person Bakugou, and maybe it's time you think about what it means to show it. Because I know you. You're thinking this is just something that gets in the way of your goals and if they don't reciprocate at this point, then they're not for you. Then you'll bury it down until those flowers suffocate you if someone doesn't snap you out of it."
She seems genuinely upset, and it amuses him greatly. He's not even mad, despite the matter that she's spot on.
"This is me trying to snap you out of it. I know being a hero is important to you, and you deserve it because you're amazing and work so hard. But you also deserve to be happy outside of that! Partners, like that, aren't an accessory or a ball-and-chain," she says waving her hand in his face again so he can't respond.
Is he that fucking easy to read?
"...they're people. And if they love you, and respect you, they'll build something with you that works for you both. Anyone with sense could see what's important to you and they'll support you! I hope that whoever loves me, if ever, knows that I wanna be a great hero one day too, and still have all the things that can make a happy home. I want a partner, not some sort of...love zombie that demands my every waking moment. That's not love." She wrinkles her nose at the notion of it all, and he can't help but cackle a gravely laugh because a "love zombie" is almost exactly how he pictured a relationship to look.
"For you, I know these flowers prove that there's a real chance with this person. They're so lucky, and they don't even know it! Because..." she pauses to think.
Bakugou hopes beyond hope that his face is stoic, or pissy like he wants it to be since she just called the person he...likes "lucky". But his heart yanks hard, and he remembers she probably says it so easily because she so securely and obviously feels nothing for him. The uncertainty alone is enough to kill him before the flowers do if he doesn't figure this out without putting too much more hurt on himself.
The flowers are enough.
"...because your feelings don't come easy. So take this chance, before it's too late. Don't waste your last moments deciding if it's worth it." She finishes, exhaling long and deep like she's trying to control her emotions.
Bakugou now completely understands why he's fallen for this girl.
"Wow, you really give a shit." He comments, masking his feelings.
Uraraka blushes, simultaneously cringing and groaning in laughter; and clenching her forehead and shaking her head while he revels in how worked up she got….over him.
"I'm sorry! I got a little carried away. But it's all the truth! Sometimes I think you like to ignore that pesky stuff until someone pushes your buttons." She sighs. "Anyway, I know you said there's nothing I can do...but I want you..." she pauses, looking at her hands, her face falling into shadow as her bangs cover her eyes.
"What?" It's so fucking stupid how he lingers on the way, "...I want you…" hangs. He briefly imagines that's exactly what she meant to say.
"I...don't really know where I was going with that. But I'm here if you need anything." She laughs a fake tinkling chuckle, and he really fucking wants to understand what that's about. "Anyway, I'm really tired. Thank you, Bakugou, for looking out for me. I'm sorry I passed out like that." Her voice is strained again, and now he's wondering if he did something wrong.
Clearly, she has something on her mind, but he won't push. He won't come out and say what's happening. But, maybe there's a way to find out exactly where she stands. Or where he stands with her, rather.
"Eh. That's you, always doing things so dangerously just to make a point. Don't be a dumbass Cheeks. I already know you're strong, fuck everyone else." He says with a shrug as he rises to start clearing the table.
He doesn't miss the way her gaze drops further into her lap like she's pulling away. It takes everything in him to keep putting things onto the tray like he doesn't notice.
"The hot and cold packs are on your nightstand, and there's some crackers and a big ass thermos with soup in the bag below it."
"Right...thanks."
Does she have to sound so fucking sad? He coughs and sneers at the bubbly, hoarse sound it produces.
"See ya later cheeks."
"See ya."