“He suffered significant trauma to the head, but for the most part he’ll be able to function just as well as before after a short recovery period.”
“Significant head trauma? Like a concussion?”
“I’m afraid it’s far worse.” The doctor pushed his thin-framed glasses up the bridge of his nose, straightening his papers and looking Bakugou Katsuki’s mother in the face with the most sincerely empathetic expression he could muster. “The villain’s attack directly affected the structures that make up the limbic system, which is the part of your brain that mostly controls your emotions and memories. We don’t know the extent of it, or if it’ll be long-term or not, but your son has no recollection of who he is or what happened to him. In other words, Bakugou is suffering from amnesia.”
Midoriya stood outside the white hospital door, a small bouquet of the typical “get well soon” flowers in hand. He’d only spent the past 30 minutes waiting outside debating whether going in was a good idea or not. All of the other students from class 1A had already gone and visited, but him? Bakugou didn’t even /like/ him. Would he even remember how much he /hated/ Midoriya? Or did he forget that too?
Maybe it was better that Bakugou wouldn’t remember him. Maybe that would erase the way that Midoriya felt. Maybe it would erase the way the butterflies ate away at his gut and the burning desire to uncover how it would feel to press against Kacchan’s perfect, perfect lips. Maybe these doors are the things standing between him and ever having to deal with those feelings. Maybe if he never steps inside, he could completely erase himself from ever being a part of this Bakugou’s life. Yet, before he could stop himself, he had already decided.
Bakugou was laying on his back, a lunch tray over his legs and those bizarre crimson eyes of his focused on the television in the top corner of the room. He turned to face Midoriya, however, as soon as he heard the door creep open. He smiled. Bakugou Katsuki /smiled/ to greet /him/. “Hi! You must be another one of my classmates? I’d introduce myself but I’m assuming you already know me, seeing as you’re here and all.”
They really weren’t kidding when they said he was different. “Oh uh, yeah. I’m Midoriya Izuku, I’ve known you since we were kids.” He awkwardly handed the flowers off to the blonde haired boy, his gaze lingering on a long, thin scar that ran along the side of Bakugou’s face. Bakugou’s personality wasn’t the only thing off, his hair was different too. Because of the injury, the sides of his hair had been shaven and he was now sporting some sort of undercut. Before the accident Kacchan (B.A. Kacchan, if you will) would have hated it.
“Oh really? That’s cool!” He brought the flowers up to his nose to breathe in their scent before placing them in a vase on his bedside table. “I feel really bad that we were or... are... childhood friends and I don’t know anything about you.”
Childhood friends. That was weird coming out of Bakugou’s mouth. Midoriya chuckled nervously, teetering back and forth on his heels. “Don’t sweat it too much.”