he doesn't mind it, all things considered: he would've had to go to the other dorm at some point anyway, to leave gifts behind, and more than that, even mirio and nejire have asked him to drop theirs off under the great tree that class 1-a has decorated for the season, down in their living room. so it would have been inevitable, so he would have been here anyway, so he would've had to face someone at some point, even if it had been just to open the door. but: did it have to be bakugou challenging him? maybe that had been his mistake to even message him to ask, but--well, he'd been trying--
no, it doesn't matter. it doesn't matter, because now he's here, using his quirk to scale the side of the dorm with three large gift bags slung onto one comically long tentacle, scrabbling and suctioning his way up, his head tucked down into the collar of his jacket like he wants very much to crawl into a hole and never come back out again. ten minutes is easy, given all that he can do, but it's more about the mental fortitude than it is about the physical exercise: and it's about keeping all those wrapped gifts safe, where they jostle around and threaten to fall with the movement.
by the time he clears the railing of bakugou's balcony, he's only lost two gifts off the top of one of the bags--and he'd managed to lash out and roll those back into his tentacle grip, anyway, letting them tumble back into the bag as he sets them all down and lets out a slow, wobbling breath. this is the hard part. this is the part he thinks might eat up all his time, as he wills his hands and feet back to their normal form.
getting the nerve to actually knock on bakugou's balcony door. he might as well die.
two minutes pass, then another three, and impatient with himself, he forces his shaking human hand to rattle in against the glass, his head hanging, his hair a ruffled mess around it. )
I'm h-here..... ( he says, sullenly, a little out of breath; he'll have to haul the gift bags into bakugou's room, too, but hey, he still beat the timer. ) Bakugou-kun. Here.
[trick? hell no, this was a challenge. and amajiki took it. a single glance thrown to his clock keeps countdown on his senpai's arrival. of course he knows he'll make it here within ten minutes. sprout a pair of wings, take to the skies, and sail high overhead until dropping atop the dorm. well out of sight from anyone potentially peering around. hell, he wouldn't put it past the shy guy to mole beneath the earth and find a way up from beneath. either way, the timer's really for how long it takes amajiki to suck it up and knock on the damn door. not his dorm room door in the hall, but the sliding door on the balcony. the former would mean a heart attack from any extra roaming around downstairs wanting to visit with their upperclassman.
guess he could've been nicer and offered to meet him or simply let him drop the presents off at the front. but how the hell's this guy gonna overcome his fear if he's coddled all the time? make him flex his quirk, show some guts, and haul himself all the way up here to his room. under a challenge umbrella. at least he'll have an excuse as to why. leaning back in his desk chair, he checks the time once more. amajiki's here by now. loitering outside on the balcony. of course he heard him come up the wall! you think those squishy sticky suction cups are silent out in the open air?
throwing open the curtains is tempting. surprise the fuck out of his senpai. but no, he's gonna force him to make the first move. again. sending the guy over the railing with a stopped organ is a shitty way to collect delivery.
knockleknockleknock...
damn, someone's gonna rattle the glass with that kind of knock. did he actually rap it or leave his knuckles on the glass and let his trembling do the work? he pushes from his chair and pads barefoot to the door. curtains husk to the side, revealing him in a normal set of black sweatshirt and sweatpants, ubiquitous skull pattern sewn white on the shoulder. amajiki looks like he finished climbing a mountain... with a click, he unlocks the door and pulls it open.]
Hn, you made it. [in time too. he reaches out to take the bags if his upperclassman will let him have them, and steps back to silently invite the guy inside to warm up. there's a pot of something hot going on a portable single burner beside his desk.] Sit down. I'll get you a drink.
( relief wars with embarrassment wars with over-explanation--he wants to apologize, for the fact that his shoes are buried at the bottom of one of the bags and it's his cold toes that are working over bakugou's floor, as though he should have brought his own slippers; he wants to explain that not everything there is for bakugou, though he knows that he knows that already, and finally, he wants to declare that the bet had nothing to do with him sticking around after winning the challenge. still, he watches almost like his own actions are some kind of foreign entity: he lets bakugou take the bags, and despite himself, reaches behind to start to gently wrench the sliding door back into place. no sense in letting all the cold air into the dorm room. why did he do that? he should have just plowed through to the door.
no, he can't get to the door. and even more than that, what if one of the other members of bakugou's class is waiting there, wondering why the hell he's coming out of bakugou's room? someone like kirishima would absolutely save him, but he's not all that friendly yet with the rest of them despite spending the training time together.
so he's stuck here. for now. he's not going to refuse a kind gesture, either, which means that he's glancing, here and there, as though internally debating where the safest place to sit is. no way in hell is he going to sit on the bed, that's too intimate, but taking over the desk chair seems rude, in a way....that just leaves one thing, which means that he's sinking down onto the floor, pulling his legs in to sit criss-cross, rather than seiza.
one trembling hand lifts to start to unzip his jacket, at least: he's dressed otherwise in a loose pair of pants and an equally loose t-shirt, having not wanted to ruin anything in case he'd had to do more than just tentacles. )
...Do you want to...The... ( his eyes squeeze shut, before he forces out a breath, and tries again. )
The blue bag. Your gift from me. Is in there. Or do you want it under the...tree with the rest?
( he doesn't know all that much about bakugou, except for all the rambling that he's heard from kirishima, and from a few of his other classmates; he's not sure if he's the type to get flustered about gifts, the kind that even likes them, or the kind that's going to rip the box open and throw the gift right back into his face. he would probably deserve that. )
[a lot of could haves boiling around behind his wallflower figure. he doesn't have to read amajiki's mind; all of it's splashed across his face. head tucked inward on himself, eyes hidden under shadows cast by dangling bangs, lips pressed together in a wiggling quiver, everything tight as a bowstring screaming for his first chance to fire through the nearest window or wall and escape from his self-imposed visitation hour. all because someone challenged him to come here. how the hell did this guy plan to deliver presents in the first place outside a blaze-faced door dash? bags secured and settled on his desk (he'll parse them later and deliver them in amajiki's place to save his senpai a heart attack), he stops in front of the burner, taking in the sweet steam escaping through the pot's spout.
a soft 'pla-thmph' heralds a poor choice from the side and he doesn't need a glance to know.] Sit on the bed or the chair, damn delivery boy. [does he seriously think he should rest his ass on the floor like some unwanted guest? half surprised the other student hasn't crammed himself in the nearest corner to escape his nerves. or bond with them more.
gentle metal raking sounds issue from his spoon as it traverses around the pot's rim, stirring light brown froth into the darker brown beneath. satisfied it's done and not sticking to the pot bottom, he taps the spoon on the rim and sets it aside to rest in a drip catcher. expecting amajiki to relocate himself to one of his permitted areas, he leaves sight for a moment to rummage around in the bathroom. a quiet husk of something swinging on its hinges prefaces the rush of the faucet, followed by splattering water in the sink. he reappears through the doorway with a nigh-hot damp hand towel in one hand and dry towel draped over a forearm.]
Are you really asking if I want to open it in front of you? [if his upperclassman doesn't blow his brain out his head in pure embarrassment over getting called out. he stops near amajiki, offers him the damp cloth, then flops the dry one down beside him.] For your feet, before your toes fall off. [he doesn't mind someone going barefoot in his room since he keeps his floor nice and clean, but most people coming in here (rarely) usually wear slippers before entering. they didn't spend the past few seconds climbing bricks and standing in snow on his balcony.
while amajiki handles that task, he'll return to the burner and tend to the hot chocolate until the other boy's ready to accept a steaming mug.]
( wrong move, all the wrong moves. he should have expected it, but his shoulders still flinch in disappointment, his head slinking down as though he could possibly crawl right back inside of himself like a turtle. something like that would be preferable, wouldn't it? and sure, he could easily melt himself into one of the room's corners, letting his eyes become intimate with the wallpaper, but: that wouldn't help either, would it? he's trying. he's trying, and oddly, he thinks that bakugou is actually trying, too; at the very least, he's being oddly considerate about not making direct eye contact, even disappearing into the bathroom without whipping around to look at him.
all this from the guy who 'killed' him over being a fake villain? he's surprised enough that he lulls into silence--until abruptly shooting to his feet, once bakugou's disappeared into the bathroom.
this is way too intimate...with a wince, he sits on the very corner of bakugou's bed, knees pressed together, hands on top of them as though he could crane himself forward and stare at the floor in a bow if he had to. his confusion is apparent, when bakugou returns, handing him the warm, damp cloth--he accepts it politely, with both hands, and his mouth drops open with a stuttered "a-ah" at the realization. )
T...Thank you. ( in a wheeze: he lifts one lanky leg up, bending it across his lap so that he can start to slowly work feeling into one foot; he pats it dry, neatly, before he switches to the other leg, spending a little more time there, as though his weight had been more balanced onto that side. once his feet are warm, and dry, and clean, he lays both towels out in his own lap, not wanting to leave a damp mark on bakugou's bedcovers.
his gaze goes up bakugou's back, to his shoulders, then jerks back down again to the floor. )
...If you...don't like it then...it would be easy to...give it back.
( --is his slow explanation, letting out a sigh. )
B-But I guess there are...other ways... ( like lighting it up with one of his explosions? it's not that he thinks the worst of bakugou, it's that he thinks the worst of himself. )
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Date: 12/18/24 01:20 (UTC)no subject
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Date: 12/18/24 01:26 (UTC)no subject
Date: 12/18/24 01:30 (UTC)no subject
Date: 12/18/24 01:44 (UTC)oh wait really?
then...okay. i can do this.
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Date: 12/18/24 02:16 (UTC)you need a damn blackout hood and blinders for your costume.
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Date: 12/18/24 19:03 (UTC)no subject
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Date: 12/19/24 22:53 (UTC)no subject
Date: 12/19/24 22:59 (UTC)gonna come through the front door or use the balcony?
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Date: 12/19/24 23:02 (UTC)i'm going to use the front door and
well wait you said no one's there right? do you want me to use the balcony?
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Date: 12/19/24 23:25 (UTC)no subject
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Date: 12/30/24 00:18 (UTC)no subject
Date: 1/5/25 23:19 (UTC)he doesn't mind it, all things considered: he would've had to go to the other dorm at some point anyway, to leave gifts behind, and more than that, even mirio and nejire have asked him to drop theirs off under the great tree that class 1-a has decorated for the season, down in their living room. so it would have been inevitable, so he would have been here anyway, so he would've had to face someone at some point, even if it had been just to open the door. but: did it have to be bakugou challenging him? maybe that had been his mistake to even message him to ask, but--well, he'd been trying--
no, it doesn't matter. it doesn't matter, because now he's here, using his quirk to scale the side of the dorm with three large gift bags slung onto one comically long tentacle, scrabbling and suctioning his way up, his head tucked down into the collar of his jacket like he wants very much to crawl into a hole and never come back out again. ten minutes is easy, given all that he can do, but it's more about the mental fortitude than it is about the physical exercise: and it's about keeping all those wrapped gifts safe, where they jostle around and threaten to fall with the movement.
by the time he clears the railing of bakugou's balcony, he's only lost two gifts off the top of one of the bags--and he'd managed to lash out and roll those back into his tentacle grip, anyway, letting them tumble back into the bag as he sets them all down and lets out a slow, wobbling breath. this is the hard part. this is the part he thinks might eat up all his time, as he wills his hands and feet back to their normal form.
getting the nerve to actually knock on bakugou's balcony door. he might as well die.
two minutes pass, then another three, and impatient with himself, he forces his shaking human hand to rattle in against the glass, his head hanging, his hair a ruffled mess around it. )
I'm h-here..... ( he says, sullenly, a little out of breath; he'll have to haul the gift bags into bakugou's room, too, but hey, he still beat the timer. ) Bakugou-kun. Here.
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Date: 1/9/25 17:57 (UTC)guess he could've been nicer and offered to meet him or simply let him drop the presents off at the front. but how the hell's this guy gonna overcome his fear if he's coddled all the time? make him flex his quirk, show some guts, and haul himself all the way up here to his room. under a challenge umbrella. at least he'll have an excuse as to why. leaning back in his desk chair, he checks the time once more. amajiki's here by now. loitering outside on the balcony. of course he heard him come up the wall! you think those squishy sticky suction cups are silent out in the open air?
throwing open the curtains is tempting. surprise the fuck out of his senpai. but no, he's gonna force him to make the first move. again. sending the guy over the railing with a stopped organ is a shitty way to collect delivery.
knockleknockleknock...
damn, someone's gonna rattle the glass with that kind of knock. did he actually rap it or leave his knuckles on the glass and let his trembling do the work? he pushes from his chair and pads barefoot to the door. curtains husk to the side, revealing him in a normal set of black sweatshirt and sweatpants, ubiquitous skull pattern sewn white on the shoulder. amajiki looks like he finished climbing a mountain... with a click, he unlocks the door and pulls it open.]
Hn, you made it. [in time too. he reaches out to take the bags if his upperclassman will let him have them, and steps back to silently invite the guy inside to warm up. there's a pot of something hot going on a portable single burner beside his desk.] Sit down. I'll get you a drink.
[it's hot chocolate.]
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Date: 1/21/25 00:14 (UTC)no, he can't get to the door. and even more than that, what if one of the other members of bakugou's class is waiting there, wondering why the hell he's coming out of bakugou's room? someone like kirishima would absolutely save him, but he's not all that friendly yet with the rest of them despite spending the training time together.
so he's stuck here. for now. he's not going to refuse a kind gesture, either, which means that he's glancing, here and there, as though internally debating where the safest place to sit is. no way in hell is he going to sit on the bed, that's too intimate, but taking over the desk chair seems rude, in a way....that just leaves one thing, which means that he's sinking down onto the floor, pulling his legs in to sit criss-cross, rather than seiza.
one trembling hand lifts to start to unzip his jacket, at least: he's dressed otherwise in a loose pair of pants and an equally loose t-shirt, having not wanted to ruin anything in case he'd had to do more than just tentacles. )
...Do you want to...The... ( his eyes squeeze shut, before he forces out a breath, and tries again. )
The blue bag. Your gift from me. Is in there. Or do you want it under the...tree with the rest?
( he doesn't know all that much about bakugou, except for all the rambling that he's heard from kirishima, and from a few of his other classmates; he's not sure if he's the type to get flustered about gifts, the kind that even likes them, or the kind that's going to rip the box open and throw the gift right back into his face. he would probably deserve that. )
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Date: 1/24/25 01:21 (UTC)a soft 'pla-thmph' heralds a poor choice from the side and he doesn't need a glance to know.] Sit on the bed or the chair, damn delivery boy. [does he seriously think he should rest his ass on the floor like some unwanted guest? half surprised the other student hasn't crammed himself in the nearest corner to escape his nerves. or bond with them more.
gentle metal raking sounds issue from his spoon as it traverses around the pot's rim, stirring light brown froth into the darker brown beneath. satisfied it's done and not sticking to the pot bottom, he taps the spoon on the rim and sets it aside to rest in a drip catcher. expecting amajiki to relocate himself to one of his permitted areas, he leaves sight for a moment to rummage around in the bathroom. a quiet husk of something swinging on its hinges prefaces the rush of the faucet, followed by splattering water in the sink. he reappears through the doorway with a nigh-hot damp hand towel in one hand and dry towel draped over a forearm.]
Are you really asking if I want to open it in front of you? [if his upperclassman doesn't blow his brain out his head in pure embarrassment over getting called out. he stops near amajiki, offers him the damp cloth, then flops the dry one down beside him.] For your feet, before your toes fall off. [he doesn't mind someone going barefoot in his room since he keeps his floor nice and clean, but most people coming in here (rarely) usually wear slippers before entering. they didn't spend the past few seconds climbing bricks and standing in snow on his balcony.
while amajiki handles that task, he'll return to the burner and tend to the hot chocolate until the other boy's ready to accept a steaming mug.]
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Date: 1/24/25 19:56 (UTC)all this from the guy who 'killed' him over being a fake villain? he's surprised enough that he lulls into silence--until abruptly shooting to his feet, once bakugou's disappeared into the bathroom.
this is way too intimate...with a wince, he sits on the very corner of bakugou's bed, knees pressed together, hands on top of them as though he could crane himself forward and stare at the floor in a bow if he had to. his confusion is apparent, when bakugou returns, handing him the warm, damp cloth--he accepts it politely, with both hands, and his mouth drops open with a stuttered "a-ah" at the realization. )
T...Thank you. ( in a wheeze: he lifts one lanky leg up, bending it across his lap so that he can start to slowly work feeling into one foot; he pats it dry, neatly, before he switches to the other leg, spending a little more time there, as though his weight had been more balanced onto that side. once his feet are warm, and dry, and clean, he lays both towels out in his own lap, not wanting to leave a damp mark on bakugou's bedcovers.
his gaze goes up bakugou's back, to his shoulders, then jerks back down again to the floor. )
...If you...don't like it then...it would be easy to...give it back.
( --is his slow explanation, letting out a sigh. )
B-But I guess there are...other ways... ( like lighting it up with one of his explosions? it's not that he thinks the worst of bakugou, it's that he thinks the worst of himself. )
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