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Y/N SMELLED SOMETHING LIKE GASOLINE, and for a moment she thought she was on fire.

Then she realised that that was stupid, because she wasn't in pain, she was just still, unaware of where she was or what she was doing.

Her other senses slowly brought her back to reality.

The feeling of cold bedsheets.

The smell of hand sanitiser, applied liberally.

A bright glare shining in her eyes from a ceiling light.

Her mouth stinging with a metallic taste revoltingly reminiscent of blood.

The sound of crying, muffled, like listening to the rain outside a window.

With a feeling distinctly like a rubber band flinging itself back into shape after being stretched as far as it could go, Y/N was back, fully aware of everything around her, and she was herself.

Still, the smell of gasoline confused her, lingering upon the air like a secret never whispered, just hanging in the balance between two thoughts.

It made a lot more sense when she tilted her head to the side and saw a jar, labelled with a messy script almost too small for her to read, but, barely manageable.

Nitroglycerin [C3H5N3O9] 

Donor: Bakugo Katsuki

The door skidded open, thrown by some doctor who immediately rushed to check Y/N's vitals on a beeping machine.

"Thank God," they muttered, turning to lay a hand over Y/N's forehead. "We thought we'd lost you a couple times back there."

"T-thank you," she spoke, relived by the easiness of saying the words - unlike previous times. "You've done so much for me."

"Don't thank us," the doctor replied gravely, tilting their head towards the door as they fiddled with another machine. "Thank that donor, Bakugo. He came up with the idea of using nitroglycerin. Otherwise ... you might have died."

Y/N mulled over this in silence, strangely calm now that she'd seen the nothing, so close to permanence, to nothing, that a trained professional had dropped their bedside manner in favour of blunt honesty. 

The crying was still audible outside her door, but was calming now, the way rain slowed just before it stopped, leaving calm and a new world behind. 

What had she become? The old Y/N, the one who'd stolen Bakugo's seat, and fearlessly remained in it out of spite, would never have mused in such a way, wouldn't have had such deep and pensive thoughts.

But that Y/N was always an illusion, and here lay the real one: terrified of death, having glimpsed it too closely, and stared into the Grim Reaper's glowing red eyes under its torn hood. She had broken, been put back together, and now she felt the same way one did when someone else cleaned their room - everything was unfamiliar, and out of place.

With a mental chiding slap to shake herself from her dark thoughts, Y/N realised the doctor had left, and that the crying outside had stopped. She had a sneaking suspicion who may have been waiting outside her room, and, too antsy to stay and wait for her guess to be confirmed, Y/N attempted to get out of her bed.

Moving one leg at a time, agonisingly slowly, she rolled over, inching to the edge of the bed, until she had dropped herself onto the floor, and she was standing, for the first time in hours, her two feet anchoring her solidly to the ground, if nothing else could. 

A glance at the standard clock on her bedside made her heart drop - 8:30am. 

Almost 24 hours since you met Bakugo Katsuki and went down this stupid crazy journey, some part of her said to herself.

But why she was thinking of Bakugo ... she didn't want to admit.

Maybe because she hated him, but that wasn't right.

Maybe because she was sure it had been him crying outside her door.

Maybe because she'd once heard someone say it only took 24 hours to fall in love, and he'd been just that. 

One step. Two steps. Three steps. Four.

Slowly, haltingly, Y/N walked, out of her room, down the corridor, step by step, until she reached one familiar place - the waiting room. She couldn't see her parents, unsure if they'd even been there in the first place, but her eyes found one safe person.

One familiar face. 

For a moment she studied him from afar, seeing him in a whole new light. Messy blond hair ruffled from awkward sleep, red irises rimmed with crimson, tears dried from his face but have left their blotchy mark, hands twisting in his lap.

Bakugo looked ... broken. 

Y/N approached him so silently he didn't notice, her bare feet stinging on the cold tiles. She checked her watch, just as she reached within a metre of him.

8:44am.

"Let's try again, shall we?" she asked, trying to return some of the old confidence to her voice, relieved when it bled in easily.

He looked up, his face flashing through a thousand emotions, and Y/N watched his guard crack and fall down in front of her.

"Move it, extra. I'm Y/L/N Y/N, and you're in my seat," she said with a smirk.

Bakugo looked up at her, his lip quivering, hands shaking, and ... burst into tears. Full-body, heaving sobs, ripping from his lungs with shivers of relief and shock mixed in.

"Oh no, I'm sorry," Y/N whispered, hesitating as to whether to reach out and touch him or not. "I'm really sorry. For everything."

"I'm sorry too," he replied, his voice cracking and brittle. "I'm really, really sorry."

She crouched to the ground in front of him, reaching for him slowly, so he could tell her to stop.

But he didn't.

And, 24 hours later, he reached for her hand.

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thank you for reading this
book and i hope you enjoy it!
~ jazzi