Jirou was nervous. Her palms were sweating around the small box of chocolates she held in her hands and she was crushing the bouquet of sunflowers too close to her chest. Her heartbeat felt like it was beating three times too loudly in her chest and she was halfway to her destination before she realized she was using her quirk on herself.

She stopped before the door, brushing imaginary wrinkles out of her clothes and fixing nonexistent flaws in her hair. She wasn't sure what to say, despite having thought about it nonstop on the way over. What did one say when someone ended up in a hospital because they protect you from a villain attack?

Jirou could only procrastinate so long though, so eventually she gathered her courage and entered the room.

The hospital room was as pristine as could be expected. One table held a few good well cards and balloons, but otherwise it was plain. Too plain, Too sterile. And on the bed, too still, too quiet, lay Kaminari. He turned to face her when she walked through the door, frozen in place at the sight of him, and he smiled. "Hey, Kyoka."

His voice kicked her back into motion and she approached with stiff steps. "H-hey, Kaminari..."

He frowned at that, but only for a moment, before the smile returned, slightly weaker. "it's nice to see you, Jirou."

"I, um, here." She held out the flowers, looking away from him. "I brought you these. To brighten up your room."

"Thanks." He lifted his arm for them, but when it trembled, she hastily pushed it back down on the bed. She looked up, jumping away from him when their eyes met, her face turning a bright red. "D-don't strain yourself! I'll put these on the table." She pushed the box of chocolates from her other hand into his. "These are yours, too."

Jirou moved around the room nervously, finding a vase, putting the flowers into it and moving it to the table beside the bed. Kaminari watched her, reaching out to grab her sleeve once she was close again. "Hey?" he asked. "You alright?"

Jirou looked at him with wide eyes. "Me? You're the one who-" Jirou bit her lip to stop herself from yelling, lowered her gaze to the ground. "Worry about yourself, idiot."

"This isn't your fault," he told her.

"How can you say that?" she asked him. Her gaze refused to leave the ground, but her lips were pressed together in a hard line and the furrow in her brow gave away her emotions easily.

"Kaminari tugged on her sleeve again. "Hey, look at me." She didn't. His frowned. "Jirou?" A pause. "Kyoka, look at me," he said more insistently.

It was surprise more than anything else that made her look up at him.

"It's not your fault," he told her. "I chose to do this. I wanted to protect you."

Jirou's eyes watered against her will and she moved closer to him, burying her face in his shoulder as she hugged him. "Idiot," she whispered. "You could have died. You could have died because of me. What would I have done if you..."

His arms came up around her, weak and trembling, but there. "Hey, there's no way I would have died. I wouldn't leave you alone like that."

"Kaminari..."

"I still can't get you to call me by my first name?" he asked softly. He laughed weakly, bitterly. "I thought we were at least that close."

"That's not it," she told him. Her voice was a little choked and she didn't want to look at him with watery eyes, but she raised her head all the same. "I'm just... I'm not good at this kinda of thing."

"What kind of thing?" he asked. Her face heated up more and she looked away. He reached out to brush her hair out of her eyes. His expression was soft and fond, patient. He leaned back into his pillows and closed his eyes. "It's alright," he told her. "It's alright."

"I feel like such a heel," she told him. "You shouldn't have..."

"I told you I wanted to."

"I'm not worth this," she told him. "Not with..." She pressed her hands to her face, wiping away the tears and taking a deep breath. "Gods, I'm so mean to you and you still..."

Kaminari laughed. "Just because you tease me a lot, that doesn't mean I don't know how you feel, Kyoka." He reached out and took her hand.

"How are you being more mature than I?" she asked.

"You're still the mature one here. I'm still the goofy idiot that hangs around you."

"That's... I'm not sure that's as true as I thought it was." She allowed herself to fall heavily into the chair beside his bed, dropping her head to the bed. She reached for his hand and he squeezed it as tightly as he could. "I'm sorry... Denki."

He reached out, petting her head gently. "It's okay," he told her.

"It's not," she said softly. "I'll be better."

"You don't have to change because of this," he told her gently.

"No, but maybe I should.