You spent the two days-and-a-half in the hospital. They fed you and let you walk around if you wanted, as long as there was someone to watch you and help you.
You asked them exactly what was wrong with you and why you were in the hospital. They had responded by telling you that your quirk had had some sort of malfunction- it had been overused and so it had reacted by forcibly making its "owner" hallucinate and pass out. When that had happened she had fell on a tiny sculpture of Mina and it had propelled several shards of ice in her back.
What was so dangerous about this was that quirks couldn't act on their own- brains could, but definitely not quirks. And if your quirk had a handle on you, then that was dangerous- of course, quirks could not form thoughts or actions, but apparently yours could somehow take control of your brain. Apparently it had perceived many things as a threat- which explained why you had made the TV explode when dear old dead dad had been being overaggressive to you and downright violent toward your mother.
And, also apparently, according to several tests run, your quirk had been gaining more and more control ever since you arrived at U.A.
They didn't know the cause, the underlying reasons. It was unknown to them. Katsuki would never leave your side now ever since you told him what the doctors had informed you. He was always beside you, running his thumb over the back of your hand across your knuckles, helping you up, getting you whatever you wanted half the time you even considered standing.
One perk of being in the hospital, however, was being able to visit Kirishima whenever you wanted.
You had hesitantly suggested it the day you had woken up as you picked at your breakfast. Apparently he was in and out of consciousness but healing well and remarkably fast.
"Sure, okay, I ain't see why not," Bakugo had told you as he tried to shove a forkful of Gohan down your throat.
"Careful, brat!" warned his mother. "Stop trying to choke her!"
"Shut your trap, ol' hag!"
She smacked him upside the head and he bristled, scowling at her as he rubbed his poor little noggin. "That hurt, you dumb witch." He considered shouting a dozen obscenities at her but didn't want to give you a headache when you were in such a fragile state.
"Sure," he grumbled. "Let's go visit Shitty hair. Mom, carry her food for her while I help her walk."
"Personally, I wouldn't take that disrespect," you commented, shrugging your shoulders while spreading your hands and pulling a 'but that's just me' face.
"Bakugou, you carry your girlfriend's food. I'm not no housewife."
"HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU THAT SHE'S NOT MY GIRL FRIEND?!"
She ignored him, and gently took your arm, leading you down the hallway.
After several minutes of walking you made it to his room. Mitsuki, noticing your discomfort, nerves, and general state of fear, patted you on the shoulder and smiled. "I'll wait out here with the brat, okay?"
You nodded, giving her a grateful look before swallowing dryly, turning the knob, and stepping inside the room.
***
The sight of his limp body lying on the cot made you speechless and breathless.
You gave a tiny, low cry as you sagged down the back of the door, your eyes watering as you saw him- straggled red strands curtaining his face and framing his half-lidded, empty eyes. His skin- devoid of his usual complexion and awfully, terrifyingly pale.
