Familiarity

Chapter Eleven

the tv show i mention is fictional, and the things i mention about the news and commercials are just examples of the things i see on a daily basis.

also, i caught up on posting these chapters, and i've only written a little for chapter 12. so bear with me when it comes to posting times. 

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Early in the morning, when the sky looked as though it was still midnight, you awoke with a dream still hanging onto your subconscious. You struggled to remember exactly what it was, the tingle of memory fading with each moment you laid awake. For a moment, you tried desperately to remember but found it was futile to even try.

So, you sat up and elongated your neck to notice Bakugou was no longer in the bed. You stood, walking out the cracked door and into the hallway that led you towards the conjoined kitchen and living area. You immediately caught Bakugou relaxing back on the couch, his body drowned in the light that reflected from the Tv. It felt excruciatingly bright in the shadowed surroundings, and you squinted. However, you continued to walk towards him.

"Is the News fulfilling you?" you asked him when you were close enough, your voice low as you sat on the cushion beside him.

"Someone died," Bakugou said with a shrug. "They were shot. And now some guy is talking about it."

You almost laughed as you listened to the quiet droning of the Tv, but found you were too groggy to do so. He was right, and that fact alone was hilarious. "So you know how to say someone got shot and died in English, but you don't know how to say library?"

"I'll kill you," Bakugou said, flashing you a glare.

You didn't say anything and looked back at the Tv. A commercial about healthcare in the surrounding area crossed the screen, depicting a woman getting help with her broken arm. You turned and looked at Bakugou, who was watching the Tv with a frown. If you didn't focus on the bandages that were wrapped across his chest, you could've smiled. That familiar piece of him was displayed beside you; his eyebrows were furrowed against his eyes, his nose was scrunched, and lips were curled to the side.

Except, your eyes were far more intrigued by his former injury. You questioned if you could still call it such. Was it healed? Was it still bleeding the way it had been?

"Hey," you said, leaning forward to catch a glimpse of Bakugou's face. His eyes darted in your direction. "How's your back?"

He looked away and sat upright, as if suddenly aware he had been sitting against it however long he had been awake. "Not like I can look, but it feels fine."

"Can I look?" you asked.

His face was still in a frown when he looked at you, shrugging as he said, "Knock yourself out."

You leaned forward and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him off the couch before forcing him to sit on the tiled kitchen floor. He sat in the space between the sink and the small island with two seats tucked under the countertop's overhang. And while he sat, you opened the cabinet in the corner of the room and grabbed the large first aid kit. You set it on the counter before washing your hands, pulling out two new gloves, and putting them on as quickly as you could.

Then you grabbed the Neosporin and the bandages and sat on your legs behind him. You placed them on your lap as you began to unwrap the bandage still wrapped around his chest and back. He didn't say anything when you put it on the floor and stared at the thin cuts running diagonally on his back. They weren't as long as they used to be, and the shallow scrapes that surrounded them were smaller in width than they used to be. Some were healing themselves while others struggled to.