Katsuki Bakugo
Jesus, I want to die. Just take me. This fever feels never ending, like one of Hercules' Labours, sucking the life out of me. Having Todoroki come over and look after me was about the only thing keeping me awake at the moment, seeing him sat in a chair by me, eyes not wavering as I slowly ate. The few mouthfuls I'd begrudgingly let him feed me had helped me regain enough strength to eat the rest independently, which was both a relief and...well, a shame.
Truth is, despite my bitching, I had an incredible desire to be cared for. It was almost Stockholm Syndrome, a narcissistic tendency that I couldn't seem to shake, but right now it was being humoured to the full. It probably stemmed from my parents' hands off approach to their roles. They weren't bad, and showed me affection like any parents should, but the rest of the time, I was just sort of left to do my own thing. This was probably a byproduct of my errant temperament, but still...just because I'm angry a lot doesn't mean I don't want people to look after me sometimes.
That's why right now, I felt as high as a kite. It might've been the aspirin I took this morning for my pounding head, but Todoroki looked so pretty, sat there staring at me, a solemn look on his face. He would occasionally adjust the wet slab of cloth on my head as it slid over my eyes, always wiping a strand or two of hair back to its correct position. There was never a moment of prolonged eye contact, he would always find something interesting on the blank wall, which made me chuckle. His caring nature today had made me quite sure he cared about me, at least in some capacity.
If I wasn't so goddamn sick, I'd probably kiss him. Though, infecting your love interest with whatever illness you have doesn't exactly sound romantic, does it...? Shaking my head at the crude jokes I mentally made about STDs, I reached out and grabbed the notebook from Todoroki, taking him a little by surprise. My hand shook ever so slightly as I wrote, making my already shoddy handwriting barely legible, but once I'd finished I passed it over to him. The message had read:
"So...do you wanna watch a movie or something?"
"Yeah, that sounds cool. Any preferences?"
"Nothing princess-y. Horror, if you're ok with that?"
"Absolutely! Momo tells me that a lot of horror scenes are silent, so I actually get a bit of tension from them as well. Although, sometimes the creatures look weird jumping about without any backing music..."
"Great! I'll let you pick"
"Thanks! Ok...how about Malignant? It came out recently and it looks pretty decent, so..?"
"Yeah, I remember seeing a trailer for that recently, it looks really good!"
"Cool, let's do it then!"
Now was the difficult bit: getting from here to the living room of the dorm, where the sole tv was. Many an argument had been had on a Saturday night when I wanted to watch a movie but Shit Hair had stupid fucking kickboxing on. As of right now though, the bigger struggle was the journey. First, Todoroki carried through a couple of blankets, as well as preparing a fresh glass of water for when I got there. He then set about preparing the new makeshift bed for me in there, leaving me both hot and cold, shivering yet sweating without his touch.
The final task was to get me into the room. At first, his plan seemed to be to carry me through, but as soon as he tried, he realised that was unlikely. So instead, he gently propped me onto my feet and supported my arm, draping it over his shoulder and shuffling along with me. It felt strange being allowed this close to him, but was pleasant despite my current state. God, I must look a mess! All sweaty and sticky and collapsed in his arms, he must be so tempted just to push me aside.
But he didn't. He gently lay me down in my new resting place, handling me as if I were a baby. He seated himself beside me, and flicked through the on demand tab to find what he was looking for. Sure enough, he shortly found the movie, and set it up with subtitles. My head still pounded, and I shivered even under the blankets, seeing him settle by my feet. I kicked out at him a couple of times to catch his attention, and gestured him towards me.
He stood over me, a curious look on his face, absently glancing over towards the movie, which was showing the opening credits. I reached a weary hand up towards him, seeking his touch and warmth again. He softly rested his hand on my forehead again, and I pushed up into it, smiling at the contact. I decided to slowly shift myself so I was sat up, and he sat down next to me, keeping a hand on the side of my face. I rested into it, both of us now watching the movie, which was properly underway. His face dropped adorably during the domestic abuse scene, pouting at me as if I hadn't just watched the same thing. I nodded assuredly at him, and he gently shifted so he was sat with his knees bent beside him, leaning into my sick form. I felt a little bad about the likelihood of him getting sick as well, but he wouldn't leave if I told him to, so that was helpful.
The movie was...kinda weird. It was almost as if the director was trying to make a "so bad it's good" horror movie, and...it made it amazing! Also a lot gorier than I expected, which was a pleasant surprise. During the final scene, I felt my eyes starting to droop, and I hadn't the energy to fight to stay awake, no matter how much I wanted to. And so I drifted off to sleep...
Dreaming of an angel
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I feel like this story is flying by with the writing, it's a lot of fun
Fact of the Day: the title is a quote from Atsushi Nakajima (both the author, and Bungou Stray Dogs character). If you haven't seen Bungou Stray Dogs, I strongly recommend it, it's a top 3 anime for me.
Also Malignant is a brilliant film, watch that too !!