👿 Open Post 3

[blastedass]

Open Post

What to hit up Bakugo for some action? Feel free to do whatever here!



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[hairsplit]

( anger, frustration, fear, worry--it's a tangle of nerves in his throat, enough that he hesitates, just for one moment, one long moment, his head whipped around to watch bakugou clamor towards him. he shouldn't. he should listen, he should move, he should do something, should take the time to work out of the cuffs or handle the chains or find something to help--but his eyes are glued to that spot, glued to the red that's blossoming in against bakugou's shoulder, his mouth agape. he should be used to this. they've gone through countless rounds of training together, gone on real missions, gotten the shit kicked out of them plenty of times before; but it's something else entirely, being here with bakugou alone, in an unknown situation, in a place where he doesn't know that they'll have someone waiting for them at the end or if they'll have to stagger out onto the street and find their way home all the same. getting hit with a quirk would be just as bad, if not worse, than a gunshot: but he's so unused to it that his mouth forms around a soundless cry of outrage.

it won't do anything. he thinks. even if the bullet didn't go clean through, even if it's lodged in there, somewhere in the muscle, nestled into the tissue, the worst that bakugou will have to go through will be some painful digging to get it out, and his arm might be stuck in a sling for awhile. it's nothing like the injuries they've already endured, not like it's the first time he's seen bakugou's blood splattered somewhere. he has to push past it, has to find his head again; is this why it had been so easy, not having feelings, before? so easy to push them down, to hide them away? had endeavor really been teaching him something--useful, doing that to him?

i said, go! bakugou yells at him, and angry, it moves him into movement. he continues forward down the hall, his eyes narrowed, his tongue full of all kinds of things he knows he won't say. at the end, it splits off into two paths, and he skids to a stop, hanging in against one side of the wall as he cradles an arm in around his stomach. it's going to be a nasty bruise, already aching from where he'd slammed and clamored over the railing, but it doesn't matter. rather than acknowledge anything, he immediately turns to bakugou. )

You go left. I'll go right. ( a gasping swallow, trying to catch his breath. oddly, he can feel his skin start to prickle with goosebumps; a sudden flush of heat, pouring through him, like his body's flooded with the release of the valve on his fire. his face flushes despite himself; on the right, a sudden jerk of icy chill, his body trying to find equilibrium. he could practically cry at the odd feeling. )

We circle around, keep going forward. ( if their quirks are coming back, then he's more suited to guarding, anyway. if he can get a few more minutes to get his body back to a happy balance, then he can put up an ice wall to stop their pursuit of at least bakugou's side. he's not going to tell him that he intends to do that, because he's pissed that bakugou's hurt on his behalf anyway, and he knows that his explosive boyfriend would just cut his head off here and now. ) Meet outside. Go.

[blastedass]

[what the hell is he doing?! why the fuck is he standing there?! he told him to move, to go, to get out, and he would follow. stopping now to look after him is only going to make their situation worse! hot runs down his arm, drips off his fingers, but it's not going to stop him. pain keeps him going, it reminds him he's not numb and he can move. there are far worse places he could have been shot in. the lack of their quirks makes cauterizing the wound impossible right now, and he can't stop to put a bandage around it. he has to move with it. todoroki's distracted by it already and that only pisses him off more. can he blame him? it took everything he had not to lash out and break his arms against the cuffs when that bastard struck his boyfriend across the face. just the sight of that crimson trickle down the side of his mouth and a bruise forming on his jaw was enough to ignite a hurricane inside him he's rarely felt before. the price of falling so hard for someone, huh. when logic and reason fly out the window in place of emotion and instinct. protect, love, avenge. so he yells at todoroki to keep moving. powers through the pain because the other boy means more to him than a few splashes of blood. they have to get out of here and put distance between themselves and their kidnappers!

he doesn't feel the bullet inside as his arm slings against his hips. he can still move his limb, there's no shredding or grinding that indicates he's tearing sinew against the shell edge or rasping the bone along the metal. but he's not looking at the mess of a wound either. pain is a dull throb, probably half-removed from it due to adrenaline and determination. his legs work, his arm works, and that's all he needs to advance. if they're crossing a hall into another building, then that speaks to a union they can take advantage of. with their quirks, they could've each broken free, but the sputtering sparks in his hand aren't offering to do anything more than light a fucking match.]

Like hell I am! Right! [he'll apologize to todoroki later for crushing his stomach against the railing back there. it's gonna be a hell of a bruise and the other hero's already short of breath for it. but the idea of splitting up? he can't stomach that. not when they're weakened and lost. they have to stay together in this mess, because separating in these conditions is a gamble he's unwilling to take. so they go right, even if he has to slam his un-injured shoulder against his boyfriend's to shove him down the right path. catching up isn't hard to do.]

Finally you have a better idea. [circling around, going forward. obvious choice. not that they'd be even this far if todoroki hadn't instigated the distraction earlier. he really owes his boyfriend for giving them that crucial chance. it's another reason he refuses to abandon him. splitting up earlier had been to divide their attention, but now they don't have that problem of being surrounded. visibly at least. meeting outside is an ultimate goal, but until they find out what they're in, they can't say they're anywhere close to outside. he can't recall seeing windows in the warehouse back there.

another set of double doors burst open and indeed, the second building adjacent to the warehouse spills out in front of them. or well, rises up, if that wall's any indication. it looks like a wall you'd find in an office building. carpeted floors. a fake plant at the end of the hall. glass-covered picture halfway down, two more hallways branching off elsewhere. a single office door built into the wall for the office inside. all quiet. old. probably abandoned if they notice the dust on the picture. that's odd... he shoves the doors shut behind them and locks them as best he can. the faint sound of yells and footsteps behind them indicate the chase is still going on.]

We need to find windows. [otherwise they'll get lost and run in circles within the interior.] Or stairs.

[hairsplit]

( anger is something that had been mostly reserved for his father, growing up. there hadn't been anger, directed at his siblings when they eventually left the house, when they eventually left him alone there; there hadn't been anger, directed at his mother, when she'd looked at him like he could be the devil himself, striking him in the face with blinding, agonizing heat. even coming to the school, even going through those first weeks, maybe even months, stumbling along with his back turned to everyone, cold and quiet, the anger had still been at his father. at the circumstances, maybe. but he'd never gotten angry at any of his classmates--never got angry at midoriya, even when he demanded things of him that he didn't understand, never got angry at bakugou, either, even when they went head to head. eventually, that anger and hatred melted away into less of a mountain and more of a quiet, simmering volcano, dormant unless provoked; he can understand natsuo's fiery rage, but a part of him thinks he has to leave some of that behind in order to keep growing.

it's funny, then, the way that bakugou sparks his anger--the way that he pisses him off just by virtue of being so damn stubborn.

his lips part, then press together against a breath; he's not being listened to, and it's likely with good reason, he can understand that. better to keep them together, maybe, when they're injured like this, tired and sore and spattered with blood--but more than that, he thinks bakugou probably knows that he'd intended to stay behind, to cover bakugou's tracks, to make it harder for anyone to pursue him and push the onus onto his own back, instead. and like always, he knows that his boyfriend won't let that happen--just like their match, back during sports day, he wants things to be fair, to be even, for them to come together as equals rather than to have one of them handicapped in any way.

it doesn't do much for his attitude, though: just the briefest glimpse of that selfish, youngest sibling energy, a push of his mouth out and his eyes narrowed as he trudges forward down the right path, one arm still slung around his middle as though the pressure helps take the pain away from the blossoming bruise. )

Why don't you just come up with everything then... ( a quiet mutter, a little sulking--which is hilarious, given their predicament. literally have their kidnappers hot on their heels, and he's worrying about looking stupid in front of bakugou? it doesn't matter. with another swallow, he forces that feeling down, into the pit of his stomach; he waits, braces his shoulder against the double doors to help them push open.

an office building. his gaze goes up, then down, to the right, and then the left--he wets his lips, considers it again. )

If we hug the left side, we'll hit windows. Or the fire exit. ( he assumes, anyway--it's always better to keep a hand on the wall and follow it, rather than blindly trudge through room after room, hoping for a miracle; his gaze darts back to bakugou's wound, assessing, feeling that lump rise up in his throat, guilt and worry and another cool, quiet roll of anger, as though he should turn right around and face their enemies, rather than continue on an escape.

fire. his fingers flex, bending into his palm, but there's just the softest fizzle of heat, a little crackle of flame before it puts itself out. he'll need more time. )

You're taking the lead. ( this, he says firmly, at least--no arguments, his expression says, smooth and firm, brows knit together. ) Your arm's out of commission.

[blastedass]

[he's always been stubborn. that praise and adoration he got as he grew from babe to child to teenager was only fostered more and more by the skill and power he showed in anything he did. why did he stubbornly insist it go his way? why did he always talk like he knew better? because by the time that young man left middle school, he knew his way was the best one, and he knew better than anyone else. u.a. did a lot to shake that arrogance up, but certainly had no intention of destroying it. his way continued to be better than many of his classmates (most of the time for him, but often for them if they listened to his directions) and he refused to back down from a path or decision he thought was correct, unless he was utterly proven in the wrong. not easy, but he accepted it when it happened, with much snarling and growling in time.

this is one of those moments where no amount of proof is going to convince his mind it's wrong. though he can understand todoroki's thought process behind splitting up, he can't stand the thought of being separated from him right now. they just escaped from being kidnapped, dammit! there's no way he's letting the other boy out of his damn sight! if something happens, they're going to deal with it together, with chances far greater than going at the unknown alone! it's not even the physical strain of their kidnapping that makes him so dogged about sticking to the pairing; it's the emotional. having been kidnapped before, much to his ire, he knows the kind of shit that goes through his head when escaping. panic, elation, fear, irrational decisions... yeah, he's not letting any of that screw over their escape.

that this makes it fair and even is a heavy undercurrent as well. he won't allow todoroki to hang back and cover them and hog all the glory of their escape to himself. (so he'll say later to cover up the fact he was afraid of losing the other boy again.) so they're going down the right path, screw whatever's down the left. if push comes to shove, he fully intends to attack the damn wall itself and try to break out through that. but given the office-building like appearance around them, they just have to make it out to the exterior of the structure.]

Dammit! You want me to listen to you, then come up with something better than splitting up! [any other time and he'd find his boyfriend sulking to be stupidly charming and cute. this is not the time. they're in serious danger and they don't have anything to rely on but themselves. injured, taxed, and fleeing. with a hard shove, he throws the two doors open with todoroki's help and barrels through. no time to try and barricade them to guard their rears. all they can do is shut it and lock it behind them. that should give them some time, provided these assholes don't just blow it up. shit...]

Che, finally have a good idea. [as much as he would love to turn around and blast their pursuers into a chummy smear across the wall, their quirks remain on the fritz, luckily waking up, but nowhere near useful in a fight. he turns from the door and heads forward, sticking to the left side as todoroki mentioned. the quicker they get out of here, the quicker they can handle his wound and leave the bastards behind them. he glances to the other boy, watching the fire in his hand flare, fizzle, and fade. hmph, it's there, but weak, just like his. they can't rely on their quirks right now.

but he does take the lead, using todoroki's advice without arguing. there's only a small growl about his arm, but it's true. he can use it as a desperate attack, but it won't be offering much in this condition. door after door, wall after wall, painting after painting, office after office, the same damn carpet. the urge to run is intense, but they can't get lost in here. left wall, left wall. something crashes far off and voices yell into the air. those assholes are through the door.

it almost wrenches a shout from his throat when he sees light spill out from around the corner, leading to a fleet of windows spanning cross the wall. but getting to them... a street, some trees, more buildings... and no less than five floors up in the air.

so much for breaking out and jumping. especially without their quirks. and yet... do they have another choice?]

[hairsplit]

( past the first few rooms, he thinks that maybe this is going to be hopeless. there's a finite amount of space here, and worse, a finite amount of time: which means that unless they can get outside of the building somehow, they're just going to be rats in a maze, pursued by hunters that probably know the layout much better than they do, and have more than just weapons at their disposal: some measure of their quirks, no matter what they are, no matter how useless they might be. he can feel his own frustration building, a thread of panic that he swallows down into a stomach that's iced over; of course bakugou would have no reaction, and of course bakugou wouldn't be the type of person to give into something as childish as a bit of prideful sulking. it's shameful to think that there are still parts of him that are alarmingly similar to endeavor; that's his cross to bear, maybe, something that he'll need to think about, something that he'll need to change.

so he lags behind him, letting bakugou scope out the path in front of them. past another few rooms, another hallway, and that panic starts to climb up his throat, starts to try to think of other options. he can't just leave bakugou here, he can't just let him bleed out, he can't just let this be the stupid end of something he should have never suggested. it all comes back to that love hotel and that night that they'd spent in literal ecstasy; but cursing himself for it with another drowning wave of guilt won't help things. his hand fists down at his side: flames, up his palm, then back out again, then up to his knuckles, then back out again. there's a frustrated breath from his lips, but he says nothing.

until bakugou sees something, and he's immediately closing the distance. windows. windows, and his heart bursts with relief, skidding in closer, drawing himself right up to the sill. a glance down tells him they're at least five floors up with nothing to brace their fall, at the bottom--which means that the only way out would be their quirks, since he's pretty sure that even if he stripped naked, the knotted rope of his clothes wouldn't even take them past another floor or two.

he's going to offer another idea that bakugou won't like: but his lack of patience, his need to take care of the one person he's had in a long time that makes him feel things, is too overwhelming. )

Break the window. ( slowly, quietly--he lifts his right hand, eyeing it, before he shakes his head. )

If I hold you, then we can make it. With ice.

( pointedly, he's not showing bakugou how little has come back--he just has to pray that his feet can do more than his hands, at this point. he's skated thousands of buildings, created huge monuments of ice just to ride them like a snowboarder, and this should be a piece of cake: but with precious cargo and a quirk that's just barely returning to his control, he's a little less confident. a little less sure that they'll make it to the ground. a little more grim, knowing that he'll have to cushion it when they fall somehow.

but he spent so long suppressing his fire: shouldn't that mean something? if his fire can work up to a blaze, now, at least in his hand, then--

his gaze narrows, and he holds his arms open as though in indication. )

You'll have to wrap your arms and legs around me.

[blastedass]

[rats in a maze. it's a fucking ridiculous and enraging comparison that's far too true for comfort right now. the walls look the same, the doors look the same, why the hell do japanese office buildings look the fucking same all over the place?! get some goddamn pictures or something to know where you're going! without their quirks, blasting through the walls or crushing a new way open is out of the question. if todoroki thinks that the other hero is lacking in reaction or has no tendency to lean into immature pouting, he's not looking hard enough. right now, however, there's something far more important than sulking going on: they have to find a way out of here or they're going to get captured again. or worse. todoroki's safety is his top priority right now and damn if he's going to let his own pride get in the way of his boyfriend's escape! another hallway flashes past the corner of his eye, looking the exact same as the one before, and the one coming up. no figure in any room, no murmur in the halls, no hum of machine to give this corpse of a building a hint of life. it feels like they're running through a shitty dollhouse, something made up to entrap them for some kind of sickening entertainment. they can't even take the time to knock open doors or rifle through cabinets because that pack of fools is breathing down their napes!

he can't panic, he refuses to, all that creates is distraction from todoroki's freedom. like hell is he going to let those bastards touch his boyfriend again! the creeping thought of being hunted this entire time, perhaps even watched while he and the other teenager spent that entire night tangled up in each other so intimate and passionate, crawls through his flesh, making his stomach twist in a mixture of disgust and misplaced guilt. away! get the fuck away! he doesn't have the time or focus to spare on shit emotions like that! focus! focus on finding a way out! focus on light, on windows, on glass, on walls, anything that will spill into a way out. the faintest sparks spit in the center of his palm, but he can't put more force behind it to practice his current limit for concern of being heard.

finally! natural light strikes him in the face, causing a quick wince as he jerks his head to the side and averts his gaze, retinas momentarily scorched by the brilliance. one, two, three blinks before he's back to the window again. multiples of them, stretching out along the side of the building. broken up by walls, but windows all the same. he bites back a bark of triumph as his fingers slam into the latch, working the lock to free the window from its sill. they have a scant time to get it open before he has to break it and thus alert their pursuers of their whereabouts.]

You better be sure about this. [it's a threat as much as a warning and agreement because he instantly slams his elbow into the window, using his already-damaged arm rather than risk his remaining good one. the frame bends outward and the glass shatters into space with a loud crash. shouts ring out and a gunshot pierces the tension as footsteps rush through the halls, each one making their way closer to the two heroes. if todoroki has a plan, he can start enacting it now. there's no way his own quirk is awake enough to save them from that kind of fall. no trees, balconies, awnings, anything, to stop their fall. unless they want to drop-cling-drop between windows...] Ice?! You're not-!

[their quirks are still sputtering back to consciousness. his is at least. and yet, there's no mistaking the severity in todoroki's eyes. nothing there but a desperate determination. trust me. i can do this. it's right there in his stance, opened arms, focused gaze. this is their only chance. if he were someone else, he might quip about how wrapping his arms and legs around todoroki felt a lot better a few nights ago. but he's not someone else. instead, both strong arms and legs circle around the other hero and he tucks in close to his boyfriend's chest. if he summons as much power as he can muster, perhaps he can use his own quirk to cushion their fall at the end. but this is a gamble. there's no other choice. he tightens his limbs about todorki's chest and waist, instinctively avoiding interfering with his right leg. he needs his ice free.] Go!

[i trust you.]

[hairsplit]

( a hunt feels almost familiar, though it's not like he's been chased through the hallways of an office building before, not like he's had bakugou's blood on him like this, not like he's wondered if this is the place where he'll die. but endeavor had instilled that sort of harrowing feeling into him, at one point, as though no matter where he went, what he did, what he tried, his father would be right there behind him. he'd never come with weapons, of course, other than his sharp voice and his hard hands, but it's somehow easier to find a center of calm when the only thing behind them is the pursuit of something they surely don't want to get caught up in.

it's harder when it's chaos.

he doesn't have the time to tell bakugou to brace his elbow into something--hell, he should have offered him the half-torn shirt off his back, at this point, should have offered him something to brace the impact. the glass shatters, chunks of it falling, pooling down five floors to the cement of a side alley below. with a deft hand, he punches out what's left on the frame: it leaves a few straggling pieces there, but he's just going to have to deal with it, if they get caught in his skin, in his clothes. there's a cacophony of sound somewhere down the halls behind them; a gunshot rings out, but it's errant, too far to do any damage to them, but the anger in those voices is real, a terrifying reminder of what could happen if he doesn't find the faith in himself to launch them out the window.

still, he swallows down his fear, his guilt, his worry--and lets bakugou climb up against his chest, helps him with steady hands to fit his arms and legs around him. he's not used to the extra weight, though he's carried others in their mock exams, assisted from behind in other circumstances; yet having bakugou's hot, well-muscled body pressed flush against him means he has to taper his steps to the windowsill, bracing his left foot up against it as he measures his breath. there's no time to feel the sickening lurch in his stomach as he looks down over the edge, no time to consider what will happen if he can't--because he can, because bakugou's trust is in him, and it's such a novel thing to think that bakugou would literally be willing to place his life in his hands.

another slow breath, and he pushes up, braces both feet against the ledge, feels for the sharp, broken side of the window and tips forward--and for one moment, one long moment, it feels like they're free falling.

his right leg skids, skips, braces against the side of the building, grappling for it--ice splutters out in short, small bursts of cold agony, twisting them, turning them as they fall, and he doesn't think of it, can't think of it, just lets his body feel for the limits, pushing them, locking his knee into place. it's somewhere around a floor from the bottom that his heel catches, locked into a sudden burst of ice that holds them there for a moment, almost hanging--and then his other foot blazes a soft splutter of fire, burning them out of the hold. by the time they're at the bottom, he's landing on his back, cracking into the cement with bakugou held away from the brunt of the fall--his shoulders scream, his chest aches, and it feels like the wind's knocked out of him with the impact: but for all that he can tell, they're still alive. something must have braced the worst of it, though he can't tell if it had been his own quirk or something bakugou had done around him. )

Can you...stand. ( his breath wheezes out of him, but his hold around bakugou loosens only slightly, so that he can climb up off of him and onto his feet again, proper--his eyes blink back a few tears of pain, steadying himself, but his hands and his fingers seem almost reluctant to let bakugou go entirely, as though he can't trust that if he isn't touching him, that he's okay. his elbow tries to find the ground beneath him, tries turning onto his side to pitch his weight onto his knees. ) I...know. We can't...stop.

[blastedass]

[they have one chance at this. glass shatters outward, the noise deafening in the tension of the moment. their tiny sliver of unknown vanishes within the glittering shards falling through the air. hunted and chased becomes a ticking clock pounding in his veins over and over. todoroki is the only thing on his mind right now; he has to get him out of here, away from these men who want to do something criminal with him. he twists his head around hard enough to wrench his neck muscles so he can gauge their time. footsteps, voices, bodies storming through the halls. every split second lessons the safety they had in distanced head start. of course this shitty window has to break improperly. leaving some pieces round the frame to catch on their skin and clothes. couldn't just come out completely. fucking window. they have no more time to debate anything. five stories is nothing compared to the heights they've both handled before. but that was with their quirks.

dammit, if todoroki doesn't launch himself out this window in the next two seconds, he's going to throw his ass out and jump after him! foolishness and insistence play in his chest at clinging to the other man like this. how often has he felt the defined muscles of his boyfriend's chest and stomach pressed against his? felt the beating of his heart and the clenching of his abdominal wall sliding along his own. a flash of lewd memory scants across his brain, completely unwanted in this harrowing moment. fuck, seriously? gone again as a foot braces on the windowsill and todoroki leans out over the empty spans below them. fabric crushes in his fists, dragging at the torn shirt covering the other hero's shoulders and back. go. jump, dammit! you have to fucking move NOW! trust can only go so far when it's held back by indecision. there's no more time to think. MOVE!!

whoosh~ suffocating building air trades in a flash for open air, fresh wind and the scent of metal-clogged trees. they're out, falling down in a rush. one floor blitzes past them, taking window and cement wall across his eyes. ice cracks and snaps, that sputtering sing of todoroki's echoing winter stomp, before it splits off like a trip down the side of a building. twisting in the air, gripping at him hard, he curses in his mind at the approaching impact. sparks pop and flare a singe in the boy's shirt, his quirk coming back online for another sputter. he has to use it! if he can get his hand between them and the ground, he can ignite an explosion to bounce them back up before the-

oof! the world snaps his head backwards, a whiplash cracking his brain into his fucking skull, and they're jerked to a stop. he doesn't even want to know what was just done to todoroki's leg to anchor them like that. flames spew a gout and the ice breaks free, sending them down again, a staccato bounce the last floor before they reach bottom. shit, todoroki's going to hit the ground first! taking the brunt of everything. like hell! shoving one hand over his back, the other sliding to grip the back of his boyfriend's head to protect it from the impact, he spreads his fingers and concentrates as hard as possible. focus, condense, release! sput spit spark crack snappzle ssBOOM! an explosion recoils behind the falling hero, momentarily breaking their fall for a split second, as if crashing through an awning. before todoroki hits the ground with a thud he feels resonate clean through his own flesh, caught within his arms and legs to keep him safe. that's going to leave a mark in the morning. but thanks to the desperate explosion and frantic catch-release of ice, a five-story fall concludes with a half-story crash into the pavement. nothing two young men who've been punched through concrete buildings can't shakily walk off. but they're alive. that's what matters.]

Yeah. I can. [boots grit against the ground, knees scraping on the pavement, as he dismounts the other hero. a sharp bite in the heel of his hand earns a snarl, quickly picking out the bit of glass. no more of this. throwing it aside, he stands to his feet, staggered and wobbly, but stomping a foot down to stop himself from stumbling. brace it. hold. then move. reaching, he grabs todoroki's arm and pull, hauling him up as much as helping him. he has to get his arm around him, his own limb hooking about narrow hips to pull his boyfriend close to him.] We have to move. C'mon. Lean on me or I'll fucking carry you.

[hairsplit]

( there's a soft nod to acknowledge bakugou's words, to let him know that he hears him, even if it's hard to say it out loud--it's not like it's the first time that they've hurt themselves like this, and logically, it's easy to know that it won't be the last time, either. he's put his own body through hell, just as he knows bakugou has done the same; so why is it that he's feeling it so thoroughly like this? likely because of the way his quirk is coming back, stalling and jerking and sparking his nerves to life, concentrating on cycling the incoming heat and cold throughout his body to keep from overwhelming his hands and feet; it's harder to focus on pushing away the pain when he has to focus on everything else. still, bakugou's grip is insistent, and his body knows what to do, lurching and twisting and hauling his own weight up onto his feet despite the sore muscles and bruised bones.

one arm loops around bakugou's shoulders, steadying himself--he can feel the arm at his back, hooked around to hold his hip, and a part of him, stubbornly, forces himself forward a few steps, as though reassuring him that he's just fine. )

You don't...have to carry me. ( it comes out as heated grumbling--bakugou's the one that should be carried, damn it, he has a bullet wound, and here he is knocking into his side, dragging himself along as they move further away from all the glass, a bit of blood, and the remnants of bakugou's explosion into the cement. with an agitated breath, he bows his head in, swallowing, nodding ahead of them as though in indication. )

Just a little further. There's a payphone. We can call...

( --his tongue stalls there, breath panning out across his lips: who should they even go for, first? the police, maybe, but getting through might be difficult; and then there's the school, the principal, or even aizawa-sensei, or should they bite the bullet and call for endeavor? would any of these be faster than calling for an ambulance? that might just get them into more trouble, if their kidnappers are still in pursuit.

wincing his eyes shut, he forces himself to stand up straight, sloping his arm down, away from bakugou's shoulders; the further they get from the building, the less he feels like they're being pursued, but he hasn't had the strength to whip around to look behind them just yet. )

...You can call. ( he decides, finally, as they come up towards the end of the block. it'll be safer to have bakugou inside the phone booth; he's so stubbornly wrapped up in the thought of protecting the person that he--the person that--his boyfriend that he can't think of anything else; his jaw is set, eyes flanked with pained determination. there are very few things that he's grateful for, when it comes to his father, but his stubbornness is perhaps one of the few things he's relieved that he possesses, at times. ) I'll watch your back. Don't argue with me.

( and then, as though to make good on the threat, his right hand lifts: an icy cool breeze wafts off his palm, fingers clouding up with the beginning chills of a glacier. ) Or I'll have to put something over your wound to staunch it.

[blastedass]

[why does it feel like this? so many times they've put themselves in danger, during the war, against nine, the usj incident. each time he's known todoroki was facing off against someone who would kill him without a second thought if able. and yet, none of those times brought him to this point, where his heart slams in his chest and his mind races with fear-fueled adrenaline in a desperate attempt to figure a way out. perhaps because it's the first time he's been directly facing the risk of todoroki's death with his own hands able to act towards stopping it. perhaps because it's the first time he's faced someone wanting to harm his boyfriend, the intense reaction brought about by the new level of their relationship. a vicious protection laced with dread. all of that pumps in his veins as he encourages the other hero to get up, knowing there's pain, probably injury, but unable to stop long enough to let him recover. they have to keep moving, they have to get out of this place, away from those people who want to capture them all over again.

he finds the curve of todoroki's side, cups a hand over it as he braces the hero's back with his arm slung across in a slant, cutting along his shoulder blade and spine to give him a grip. hefting the fabric of his shirt in one hand, the other reached up to grab onto his boyfriend's arm as it loops round his neck. move. he tells his legs to move.]

Shut up. You're the one who's half-roadkill. [does todoroki really think he's going to let him be the one to burden himself with weight again after taking it on his front a few seconds ago? the blood running down his arm has mostly clotted by now, occasion small leaks pushing through whenever his bicep flexes. fighting against the blood loss as much as todoroki is struggling against his bruised back and whatever bruised or broken ribs he has inside.

call? shit, a crossroad. do they stop long enough to call someone? or do they keep pushing ahead until the reach a safe spot to call? the payphone stands alone in a booth, offering quick contact immediately, but no protection from other witnesses or surrounding structures. and who to call first? the police, of course, but fighting through the call center amid the sordid state of japan right now is a risk. their classmates are also a risk, since any of them they call might not be available to answer. aizawa-sensei or all might had the highest chance of picking up from the teachers, though endeavor would pick up for todoroki without fail, if the other hero wanted to stomach his pride and animosity.

their pursuers haven't jumped out the window yet, probably running down the stairs to get to the outside. he strains his ears to listen for anything that indicates they're still the prey, footsteps or echoes, car tires screeching or engines starting, or even bullets firing at them. are these people really just going to let them go? then again, if this place is located in a residential area, noise would draw attention, and neither of the heroes are hard to recognize.]

Bastard... [throwing the decision to him with that kind of threatening compromise twisted into being. his eyes narrow, glaring daggers at todoroki for thinking ahead of him and realizing he planned to shove his boyfriend into the booth for protection. for a few seconds, there's a war, sparking and flaring between them in a struggle for who would win. but in the end, the blonde capitulates with a growl and wrenches open the phone booth. fine, he'll make the damn call.]

If you hear anything, get inside the damn booth. [that's his only counter order as he grabs the phone off the hook. todoroki can work on icing over his wound in the meantime. ah fuck! there's no way to actually pay for the damn thing. neither of them have their wallets, licenses and cards left behind with those bastards who pawed through their belongings. immediately it limits their options to one thing: emergency call. so he does, punching in the numbers and pulling the phone to his ear. all payphones still allow emergency calls to go through, no charge. and like that, it's picked up, a harried operator on the other line.

who probably has a heart attack from the information spilled over the phone. where are they? he has no fucking idea. neither the building(s) nor the carport are labeled with numbers, but it doesn't look a derelict or abandoned place. screw looking for a street name, he growls at the operator to track the number he's calling from and cross reference it with the payphone directory. it takes a minute for the other person to actually do that before word comes back to their location. nowhere even near the fucking love hotel he and todoroki staked out. they're halfway across the fucking city, far from u.a. as well. snarling, he demands to know the location of the nearest police station, then tells the operator to send officers towards their location. fuck no they're not going to stay where they are! there are people after them! send the cops, they'll meet them on the way, and keep to a straight line!] North east, we're going that way.

[and indicates the direction around the carport beside them. luckily they're not heading back towards the building they just escaped from. he leaves the phone off the hook, letting the police continue to trace the call even as he exits the phone booth.] Lets go.

[hairsplit]

( there's a war brewing there, the crackle of bakugou's sweat-stained palm and his own iced fingertips--and months ago, they might have stalled there, might have wasted time tending to the explosive nature of bakugou's ego, and the chilled, frozen wall of his own. months ago, before they'd really known each other, before he'd really known anyone, before he'd realized that he could still be a hero if he wanted to: that he still had the power to be anyone he wanted to be, as long as he kept moving forward. and it's that part of him, the part that feels so strongly for bakugou that almost wants to relent; his lips part, a breath that might turn into words, might turn into the agreement that he'll shoulder himself inside the booth and decide on who to call. he knows that bakugou thinks faster than him, knows that he'll have a better plan made: if it's him who has to stumble in and grab the payphone, he'll likely stall there all the same. it's always been pride that's kept him away from answering endeavor's calls, or even ever asking him for help--and he would hesitate there, over contacting him or the police or the school.

luckily, bakugou relents before he can waste his breath. he doesn't smile, doesn't gloat over the victory--it's a solemn nod he offers, taking bakugou's words in stride, and once he's inside the booth, he reaches with one hand, gently icing over the latch. it'll melt, break apart as soon as bakugou pushes the door to exit: but for now, it feels like an extra measure of safety that he desperately needs to feel like he's in control. his ribs ache, his back twinges in agony, and he keeps one arm looped around his middle, breathing into it, casting his gaze to their surroundings.

the street sign must be behind them. he doesn't recognize any of the taller buildings in the distance, doesn't recognize any of the smaller shops along the street. he doesn't know the name of the nearby apartment building, either, and the few cars that pass by them go too quickly for him to fully read the license plates; maybe that's the exhaustion settling in, something that he fights by gripping his hand more firmly at his side. within the booth, he can hear bakugou commanding the person on the other line, demanding and firm, and it makes his shoulders slump; it's a relief to know that he actually got through to someone.

by the time bakugou drops the receiver, letting it swing on the line, he's already nearly warmed the ice off the latch of the door with his back pressed against it; he forces himself to straighten, turning to look at him with another solemn nod. )

That way. ( he agrees, in a soft wheeze of breath--and he waits, pointedly, for bakugou to take the first few steps before he falls in beside him, lagging behind just a half a beat in order to ensure that he watches his back. there's nothing he can hear behind them, even as they move forward; there's no sound of footsteps on the sidewalk, or the sound of a gun cocking, but he keeps his gaze moving, keeps his focus on their surroundings rather than any pain or exhaustion. it's funny, how tiring it feels to get his quirk back: but how relieving it is, to feel it at his fingertips again, like a lost limb returning back to its rightful place. ) Bakugou...

( it feels safe enough to say it--to give him a look, briefly, another once over like he can't quite believe that he's upright and walking next to him, as they continue forward. he thinks he can hear sirens in the distance, but it's hard to know if that's just his wishful thinking. ) Are you hurt anywhere else? You didn't hit the glass--or anything?

( he's trying to make a list, for their inevitable rescue: to be able to clearly define to the paramedics and police officers the sort of help that bakugou needs. if anything, he'll be demanding they see to him first; the bullet wound might be drying out, some, but it's still severe enough that it worries him, angers him, makes his stomach clench in disquiet. )

[blastedass]

[he relents because right now, todoroki is the most important thing to him. even his own stubborn pride is not worth the safety of the man he loves. they could have pressed against each others, pitting frozen demand with combustive order, but they have neither the luxury nor the resources for that distraction. as much as he's loathe to admit it, todoroki's quirk is coming back online faster than his own, and his wider area of attack can buy them more time and shielding than his own explosions. their bodies are damaged, his arm pierced through by a bullet round, the other hero's back and shoulder slammed hard into the ground to bruise his ribs and shock his lungs. todoroki's breath comes short still, indicating his recovery's not complete. he can't have him gasping into the phone for words and stumbling over any social faux pass while they have fucking gunmen coming after them. assuming they are... no door has opened yet, no shouts or shots pouring from the broken window far above. if those people planned to kidnap them for nefarious purposes, they've currently failed.

another time and he might have found todoroki's icy lock on the door a charming security. meaning little to any physical effort, yet cute for the implication it provides. he'll have to remember it later and comment when they're safe. as he talks on the phone, he props it against his shoulder and head, giving himself time and limb room to check on the injury festering pain atop his upper arm. the wound's a mess, torn skin open all the way to the surface. it's not another hole through his body, but it'll leave a mark if he doesn't get it treated and healed fast. gritting against the pain, he recounts their situation and as best approximated location to the dispatcher, snarling when he has to reveal how to track the fucking payphone. gonna rage at the cops to make sure everyone on the dispatch is aware of how to do that in the future! just because cellphones are rampant, that doesn't mean payphones are obsolete or extinct! SOME HEROES CHANGE INTO THEIR COSTUMES IN THESE!!

none of this place is familiar to him. which quickly makes sense given the reveal of their location via the dispatcher's search. wait- a car just drove by?! he grits his teeth at the new change. it looked like the place was deserted earlier, but indeed, the sound of vehicles is there. a road's nearby. (duh, they're on a street.) maybe a small neighborhood street passing by this warehouse + office combo? part of him wants to tell todoroki to get a car's attention. he's famous enough to be seen and recognized. but that would require the other hero to leave him here in the booth and that's not going to happen. shit, relegate that to step two. leaving the receiver down and off the hook, it ensures the dispatch is still online and present. if someone chasing them picks up the line to see who they called, maybe that will stall them for a few precious seconds.]

Aa. Move it. [hearing todoroki's breath struggling through his lungs pumps adrenaline through him, fueling his anger, fear, determination, and drive. he has to keep them moving. one step at a time, leaning forward as if the weight of his head and shoulders will pull him further when his legs don't want to. his eyelids droop slightly and he shoves them open again with a snarl. piss off! he's not tired! he's dealt with worse blood loss than this, after shigaraki skewered him in the first war. and he could move and survive with that damage. this is nothing! he'll have time to bleed out when todoroki is safe. a quiet, deep voice carries his name behind him, reminding him of their trips to remediation classes when he demanded the other boy get behind him. tch, fucking irony.] What?

[keep walking. keep moving. don't stop. each press of his foot to the ground is another proof they're getting out of this alive. as fast as he can force his body to go, faster through the road, around the corner, towards the open street that reaches for another road further ahead. they could hitch a ride with someone, the odds of landing in the same care as one of their pursuers is extremely low... depending on the rate of vehicle flow up here. but the police are coming to intercept them. they can't be stuck in a damn car. distant sires call his attention and he lifts his head to try and locate their direction. another question, more worry and concern.] Of course not! I hit you, ya damn mattress-roki!

[yeah, definitely not mad that his boyfriend took the impact for him or anything. if he was injured elsewhere, he wouldn't tell him right now. it would only make todoroki worry about him more and try to take the burden of supporting him when he was struggling on his own. he'll tell the officers and paramedics instead. the other hero can grump at him later for not saying anything.

it's when he hears an engine roar behind him that he reaches back to grab his boyfriend's collar. no time to stagger and hurt now. as soon as that noise bares it's teeth, he runs. fuck the pain, fuck the blood, if his muscles don't want to work, he forces them to! if todoroki stumbles, he drags him along with pure strength, refusing to let him fall. they have to move! whatever took those people this long to get into a vehicle is unknown, but any inch they can put between themselves and someone coming after them, the better. move, dammit! one foot in front of the other! move!]

[hairsplit]

( his fingers clench, once in anger, once in shame--once in embarrassment, but he doesn't say anything. it might be telling, in all the wrong ways, that bakugou's insult pales in comparison to his usual biting banter: he's distracted, focused on the situation around them, focused on the pain in his body, or the blood loss, or something worse. whatever it is, bakugou doesn't share it with him, relegates him to a mattress that he used to brace himself out the window; and at least he's a little proud, there, that he could successfully shoulder as much of that as possible, that he could brace bakugou's muscle and weight enough to keep him from cracking himself on the cement. it doesn't make up for the fact that he let him get shot--no matter how ridiculous it is to think it, it's the thought that plays itself over and over in his head as he moves a step behind him, staring mismatched eyes into the back of bakugou's shoulder. it's one of the first times in a long time that bakugou has actually kept something from him: and he finds that he hates it, a little, hates that barrier between them, hates that he can't just reach forward and pull bakugou into his arms and coax it out of him.

a hard swallow, and he continues moving. he knows better than to stop: even if it's just to intercept the police, or the ambulance, before they get too far away, it's worth it to stay upright; he's worried what might happen, if bakugou skids down onto his knees, if he loses feeling, if he starts to feel tired, worn out, unable to keep his eyes open. his fingertips clench tight again, a little shiver of cold that he pumps through his own body, to keep his own eyes narrowed and clear-headed; they can round the corner, get a little further, and maybe then the sirens will be closer, and maybe then he can take in a full breath, instead of the staggered panting he's kept to maintain some shallow amount of pain.

and then there's the tires squealing, an engine roaring--and bakugou's hand, reaching for him, and he doesn't even have to ask. like clockwork, his feet fall into step with bakugou's stride, an immediate bolt into running, despite the way his lungs ache, despite the way his stomach feels like it might just bottom out. rather than look ahead of them, he's looking around, looking off to the side--and his hand reaches to fist up bakugou's shirt and immediately drag him sidelong, stumbling slightly along the sidewalk. )

Here. ( panted out, the words come like a desperate wheeze: but with his hand fisted up tightly in the fabric, now, all it takes is a kick of his foot to skid his ice behind him, and with it, take bakugou whether he wants to come or not. ) Now!

( adrenaline chills, an icy calm that feels as familiar as the sting of cool snow through his skin; a tight alley, between the end of a parking garage and another office lobby on the side, affords darkness, at least, and he realizes it only after that little kick off: if he leaves ice behind, it'll just give them away. his hand in bakugou's shirt pushes him, practically throwing him into the shadow of the alley, into the trash cans lined up there and the sturdy black box of a dumpster, or maybe an air conditioner unit, he isn't sure.

a sweep of his other arm out to throw a splutter of fire along the ground--it burns out the ice, but there's nothing he can do about the wet spots on the cement; they'll just have to risk that it'll look like the usual wear and tear, as he rounds himself into the alley after bakugou, immediately crouching down. )

Put your hand over your arm. Do it. Press down. ( a low, quiet command: it's for bakugou's sake as much as it is to not leave any spatter of blood behind. his bowed head nods forward, towards the shadows further down the alley-- ) We can't...We'll have to wait. For the...ambulance.

( his head feels a little fuzzy--maybe it's better that bakugou's quirk is coming back slowly, he's starting to feel sick from the exertion; maybe it's just his body still adjusting to the temperate flows of hot and cold, and he lifts up a hand to push his bangs away from his face--they're sticky with sweat. ) Should be fine... I can be...mattress-roki...again.

( said solemnly, it doesn't even sound like a joke. if bakugou ends up needing to lie down, he's not going to have him lying on the dirty cement. they need to keep that wound as clean as possible. )

[blastedass]

[maybe later, he'll apologize for snarling at him like that. neither of them are at their best right now, the blood loss from wounds, blunt impact trauma, to say nothing of trying to escape people who would hurt them enough to capture and keep them for reasons they still have no fucking idea about. yelling at todoroki for being a mattress likely comes from his own frustration and anger over having to use the other hero like that. he hadn't been able to land an explosion strong enough to make the impact unnecessary, hadn't been strong enough to keep them both from getting injured to the point where his own partner had to take the blow for both of them! it shouldn't have been todoroki who got his damn lungs crushed to make sure they didn't splatter and break all over the fucking ground. and yet he did. took it for both of them. and now he's running, each pained inhale rattling through his throat a reminder that the blonde beside him failed him. he doesn't want to talk about it further. right now, the only thing he can do to assuage even a little of that guilt is to make sure the man he loves escapes from this predicament alive. he'll take some damn injuries if it means keeping todoroki's breathing. the injury on his arm won't be slowing him down or deviating him from that goal.

each step pumps his blood again, alternating the rims of his vision from red to clear. pain numbs only to come back in a spurt of agony on his arm, but he pushes through it, focusing on the same breath beside him to keep himself going. one step after another, each one putting them further from the danger behind them. his breath catches, comes in short, pained sounds, and he shoves it down, forcing his lungs to take in air they stupidly protest. he wants to rest, he wants to sit, his legs want to buckle, and he slams his foot into the ground every time, refusing each pleading request his body makes for relief. it doesn't know the danger they're in, doesn't realize rest means capture. not just his, but todoroki's too.

move, move, move. if the villains had any realization the sound of engines revving would be the same to the heroes' motivation and actions, they might have muffled their fucking vehicles. blood spatters out of his arm, slapping onto nearby bushes, but he doesn't even feel it. not when everything inside has turned into a freezing dread and adrenaline rush. even if his guts were falling out his side, he'd be running, heedless of the red fluid spilling at his feet. the man beside him moves too, forgetting his impacted lungs and bruised ribs in a desperate dash for freedom. neither of them are strong enough now to contend with getting grabbed again. fingers crush his shirt into a ball and he's momentarily hauled from his pace into the sound of a voice and change of direction.]

Oy! [what the fuck's he doing?! ice bursts behind them, taking his feet off the ground for a second as the trail spills out beneath. if he had any concern about marking their path, there's nothing to be said. whether ice or blood, they're leaving marks. all he does is snarl in pain as todoroki takes over their escape.] Fine!

[but the sudden shove has him tumbling forward, twisting around with an incredulous look on his face. the alley?! they had to be moving towards the road! darkness rises over them, but he realizes even in his anger this isn't a bad decision. a car isn't going to fit in here to chase them. it would take their pursuers an entire street and u-turn to track them like this. right before he crashes into the trashcans with an obnoxious clatter. one hand slams down, a tiny explosion barely pops him out of a fall, and he hits the wall with his good shoulder at least. one leg digs into the ground like a pike and he snarls back towards todoroki at the near crash. he better not be thinking about holing up in here. they have to be visible for the police! they don't have their phones!]

What the hell are you thinkin-?! [his words cut off with a wince of pain, one eye crimped shut. dammit. he grabs at his arm, putting it over the wound. blood squishes between his fingers even when he tries not to squeeze too hard on it. the remaining red gaze glares daggers at his todoroki. he better not have dropped them in here just because he was leaking blood on the ground. not after dumping a bunch of ice down there! even if he did melt it...] Dammit, you want us to sit here and hide?!

[voice a sticky hiss between his teeth, there's logic and emotion crashing together. todoroki's talking about him lying against his body to rest and he wants to run for the oncoming police. stay put and hide, advance in the open, which one? shoving aside his own thoughts, he looks at his partner instead. face drained, body tense in a bad way, labored breathing, sweat soaking his hair, even his words come out in pauses... he's not doing any better. curbing his anger, one hand moves to take the other hero by the arm and pull him. at best, they can duck down in the darkness behind the dumpster. too bad none of the alley-facing windows were open. could've hid inside. he pulls todoroki down with him, sinking to the ground and resting his back to the stone wall behind him. breathe, focus on resting, regain some strength.] Okay... you have to rest too... Stay with me...

[they'll make it. they have to.]

[hairsplit]

Just...Have to see.

( it's not like he isn't thinking the same things: thinking that if they're hiding, it might keep them from getting pursued, but it might also keep them from getting rescued. but getting captured again would be the ultimate loss, and it seems better--or is it better? it's hard to marry his thoughts together: he's trying to focus on too many things at once, and despite all of their training, and all of his progress, he still has his moments where he charges ahead of himself, and others, before even realizing what he should be focused on. bakugou pulls at him, plaintive, and rather than crouch, he sinks down to sit in front of him, legs pulled in criss-cross; craning over at the waist, he lets his gaze focus on the blood that squelches past bakugou's hand over his wound. it's not pooling over his palms, or dribbling all the way down his body--he could cauterize the wound with ease, but he's hesitant to do it even if the bullet went straight through. it's better to have someone actually look at it to ensure that he isn't just sealing dirt and debris inside bakugou's skin; he'd never forgive himself for something like that.

with a slow breath, he tries to analyze his own body: he's been so focused on bakugou that he hasn't really stopped to feel himself over, hasn't stopped to realize what exactly might be wounded. his chest aches, without his arm there to bolster against the front of it; his shallow breath pans out slower, feeling for where it hurts to inhale, and decides that bakugou is still top priority, no matter what. if his ribs are bruised, or something's pinched on the inside, it doesn't matter as much as cleaning that bullet wound and closing it up; pain is easy to deal with.

rather than stare at bakugou, he turns to look past his shoulder at the opening of the alley: there's not much he can see, from where they're tucked in together, but listening is just as helpful, and there's the skid of tires on cement, the rev of an engine, and then another, that seems to move past them and further on. distant, still, are those sirens--funnily enough, it sounds like the police and the villains are likely going to end up crashing into each other before either set finds them, something that makes him breathe out a quiet laugh of wry amusement. )

Two minutes. Maybe...three. Then we'll go back out.

( he has to keep his mind going--he has to keep his thoughts moving, has to keep the adrenaline flowing, has to keep up his energy; taking only a moment for weakness, he leans forward further, his forehead touching lightly against bakugou's other shoulder, head bowed there, eyes closed. this close, he can smell the blood, the sweat, that distinct smell of bakugou's skin, his hair, everything that he'd marveled over just nights ago, pleased and warm and safe. it's not that he hadn't expected something like this to happen eventually: he'd just thought that it would be a long time until someone used their connection against them. maybe not until they became pros.

letting out a slow, well-balanced breath, he peels himself back up again, offering bakugou a small, almost watery smile. )

You think you can get to your feet again? We should be okay.

( a glance spared sidelong, back to the alley opening, confirming--and then back to bakugou, lifting up one of his hands so that he can wipe and smear his tousled bangs away from his own face. )

If you want to wait here, I'll go look. Just tell me.

[blastedass]

[the only response to that is a growl, no further protest. pursued? no shit they're getting pursued! they even fired up a vehicle to give chase! rescued? that had been the intent before todoroki pulled him in here. now they're trapped between chasing kidnappers and approaching rescuers. captured? fuck you if you think he's going to let anyone capture todoroki again. their quirks are coming back online, slowly and surely, and he'll put everything he has into keeping the man he loves safe from someone intending to hurt him. todoroki's not one of the dumb ones among their class. he's smart, experienced, takes action, plans ahead and accordingly, and while he doesn't always agree with the half-cold half-hot hero's decisions, he's someone that can prompt irritated obedience and agreement from the explosive hero. that doesn't mean he isn't going to bitch at todoroki for what he thinks it's a dumbass plan, even if he's going along with it. for now. if things change, he'll be putting his own previous idea back into action.

the idea of getting his injury cauterized is tempting. a bullet went through there; yeah, all the way through, considering it's bleeding out the front and the back. he knows it wasn't deep enough to hit the bone at least. there's no dirt or grime inside so far, since they haven't tumbled around through mud, but... since they have some time, the blonde starts working on a bandage, tearing his shirt at the side to rip the material off. good thing they weren't stripped completely... he tries to keep the noise as muffled as possible while todoroki rests across from him. hopefully the other boy's taking this time to judge his own injuries. so long as those ribs are only bruised or crack, not shattered, he can still operate with relative safety, albeit in a lot of pain and tighter breath.

as todoroki keeps watch on the mouth of the alley (keep your damn head down, moron!) he binds the rags of his shirt around his arm, keeping the material flat against the wound for three wraps before working the rest into a more proper binding. teeth set against a piece of material to muffle any pained noises daring into his mouth. everything freeze the second tires approach their hiding spot, eyes jerking to the side, hand hovering over the half-tied knot on his arm. no motion, no breath, no noise, he swears his heart opts to stop too. gravel rolls beneath rubber as the vehicle passes on. shit, if they bothered to look closer, they'd probably spot the spatters of his blood even though he tried to keep it as contained as possible. hopefully those bastards would crash into the cops first...]

Uh-huh. [two or three. he'll give him those. with a final jerk, he sets the knot, grunting in pain and effort, then drops back against the wall behind him as todoroki sinks onto his body. panting between grit teeth, he reaches up and wraps his uninjured arm around his boyfriend's neck and shoulder, hand resting atop his head in a reassuring motion. they made it out. now they have to focus on staying out. energy pumping, adrenaline recharging, resting to regain their power. todoroki's scent lingers in his breaths, the hint of snow and mint from his previous gout of ice. it has a way of making him feel refreshed no matter what he'd been doing, compared to the traces of smoke and burn whenever he uses his flames. wrapped up in his own personal scent, he's grown used to as they slept together. hard to imagine they were this close a few nights ago for an entirely different reason.

that's the price of a hero getting close to another person. the one you love and care for becomes your weakness. they knew this going into their relationship. even as friends, as members of class 1-a, their entire class was a weakness. they even threw themselves into battle to protect aizawa, shattered when midnight was hospitalized, and devastated when all might was forced into retirement... bonds make for great strength, but terrible weakness. yet when it comes to todoroki, he accepts that risk. he's come to love the other boy too much to allow that weakness to overcome the strengths it gives him. look at where they are now, escaped and free, driven by a desire to protect each other, right?

as todoroki draws back, he shuffles his hand from the boy's head to his nape, then down to his cheek where one thumb brushes at the corners of his mouth and the hot liquid collecting at the rim of a slate-gray eye.]

Don't look down on my, dumbass. I could've been up minutes ago. [always bravado. though the moment todoroki even suggests he be the one to leave him behind and go venture out on his own, the blonde promptly "knees" his boyfriend in the balls. (look, they're right there.) definitely not enough to hurt him, but give him a jolt as a fierce glare scours his face.] Suggest we split up again and I'll smear you across the wall.

[he would never. still threaten though. pressing a hand to the ground, he pushes himself up, careful to avoid dragging his injured arm against the wall. part of him wants to use the fire escape ladders to get to the roof, but their quirks aren't strong enough yet to allow them to safely go jumping from rooftop to rooftop.] Lets go. We need to head east, towards the nearest highway.

[hairsplit]

( like always, the grit and growl of bakugou's voice just earns a blank sort of stare--as though he's calculating how honest those words are, as though he's tempted to say i can't look down on you, we're sitting together but doesn't feel the need to argue it all matter-of-fact. more important is sliding back a little to keep bakugou's knee from connecting; it does the trick, breaks his watery, worried look and hardens it into something of a pout, his brows knitted together, mouth stuck into one solid line. that's at least enough to wrench some of his quiet pride into his shoulders, enough to have him bend his knees into the ground and use one hand to push himself up to stand with bakugou all the same. his ribs ache, his back screeching at him in an abrupt twinge of agony, but it smothers itself back down again, once he's able to straighten--at least somewhat. his arm hooks again around his middle, bracing himself against it; it feels easier to breathe when he has that pressure, there.

he takes the direction with a nod. towards the highway, then, which shouldn't be too far off--and if it had been the villains speeding off ahead of them, then they have plenty of time to get there without having to be worried about a pursuit. at least not for awhile, and that's good enough for him: he doesn't want to push bakugou, and though he trusts in that makeshift bandage around him, he snags his gaze to it as though to keep track of the blood blossoming through the material. if it gets too large, or too dark, then he's going to have to do something about it.

his mouth is still stuck into that line, half-pouting: )

...If you smear me across the wall, then we won't be together, either.

( still, he takes him at his word: he moves, keeping pace with bakugou, sliding out to the edge of the alley to give it a cursory glance one way, and then the next; no sign of any villains, no sign of anything awry, either, or any kind of scuffle. with a short nod, he slips out of the alley, following the sidewalk back up the way they had been headed. it seems like the right direction, though he's still wincing a little, dragging his gaze up to try to find the sun in the sky and re-assess.

everything's going to be fine. he's exhausted, sure, and bakugou's wounded more than he would have liked: but it's going to be okay. even the adrenaline working its way through him seems to allow him that mental reprieve; sidelong, he looks at bakugou walking next to him, staring at his wounded shoulder to confirm that it hasn't changed, and then up to his face, pointedly. )

Bakugou. ( it's soft, like he's about to say something he shouldn't--like his tongue hesitates, and slowly, his gaze slides back out again, keeping an attentive watch on their surroundings as they drag themselves along the sidewalk. )

When we get back. What do you want to eat?

( he can't tell what time it is, really, but surely it's late enough that dinner should be an option--if not the only option, and it seems like the safer way to convey what he wants to say than saying it out loud. i love you, i'm taking care of you, i'm not leaving, you're not going anywhere--none of that seems quite right, none of it seems to fit on his tongue the way he wants; he's still so clumsy with things like this, that sometimes it's just easier to go the long way around. )

[blastedass]

[is he sorry for putting his knee between todoroki's legs? not completely. though seeing the way that mouth knots up into nigh-pout under angled brows lances a quick, heavy shot of guilt through his guy. the other boy had only been worried for him and spoke out of that. yet his pride is a ridiculous thing and having that concern levied at him right now would only weigh todoroki down more if the blonde gave him any indication his performance was going to suffer. they don't have the luxury to doubt whether either of them can do anything less than their best, forced to trust the opposite to carry his own weight. he'll excuse his gruffness this time, but likely later will owe it to todoroki to apologize. somehow. in his own way. bones move, muscles tighten, skin stretches, and the pair rise together in the darkness of the alley. pull with each other to make it through this, injuries and flagging quirks be damned. he can't have his boyfriend think for a moment he won't be able to protect him. no matter the way his arm feels as if flames crawl through his flesh and the strength wants to sap off his shoulder. he glances to todoroki's side as the boy rises and cups an arm around his ribs. shit, those are still injured from the impact, all because he couldn't get his own quirk activated enough.

stalking from the alley, he pauses right at the entrance, enough to poke a head out like a curious mole, twisting this way and that to check their surroundings. no cars line to road, no people on the sidewalks, no bullets snapped off towards his spiky head. he wonders if they should go out the back of the alley, but that would be going away from the highway. boots scrape against the ground in a grit of gravel under his soles as he steps forward and emerges from the sandwiching walls. out into the open, his heart rate picking up as if he was some damn deer creeping back into the meadow after the hunters left. he hates this shitty vulnerable feeling, the idea of being hunted by unknown assailants.]

Urusei. You're stuck with me whether you like it or not. [great thing to say post-threat to turn your boyfriend into alleyway modern art. as todoroki falls in step beside him, he keeps close by. not enough to bump his injured arm into the other hero, but is deliberately taking the slot between his boyfriend and the road. if something is to come at them, he'll be the one taking it. shit part is, he's never been to this part of the city. without being able to fly, he can't get a scope of the surrounding areas. fuck, he wants to put his arm around todoroki and support him. hobbling together as a pair would only slow them down, so he's forced to trust his lover to move.

facing forward, walking forward, one step at a time brings them closer and closer to the hill reaching for the highway beyond it. his breathing comes shorter and he silences his breath to avoid todoroki noticing. a brief reprieve in the phonebooth hadn't made up for running afterwards, leaving them winded and exhausted from the ordeal. at least the bandage keeps his blood inside, but he's lost plenty already. one more step, another step, ears peeled and straining for any revving engines or the grind of tires.]

Huh? [talking? now? it'd better be something important! ... fucking stupid, that's what it is. melting his chest in the way he wants to yell at him and laugh simultaneously. lips quirk in a strange wiggle, half a sneer half a smirk. no, it's not stupid. it's an innocent question that reinforces todoroki's stalwart belief they'll get through this. trusting him implicitly. ironically, it's this simple question, not those sappy things on todoroki's mind, that makes the blonde feel a gush of strength, affection, and resolve pour into each sinew and nerve. his breathing evens out slightly, the pain dulling a single digit. that's right. they're going to get through this.] Tantan men, but we'll use soba noodles.

[as the road climbs into view beneath their feet, rows of trees part ways to see between their trunks and finally opens to the highway. cars pass in alternating speeds, it's busy, likely due to the lowering sun, people heading home or to work depending on their shifts... jumping out into traffic is a foolish idea, but it would be the easiest way to get attention. not INTO traffic as a dumbass animal, but even on the side of the road, standing and waving would quickly get a driver's attention. neither of them are hard to recognize. but it would also cause a traffic jam should they interrupt the flow and have someone-- then multiple people --stopping to either help them or rubberneck. to say nothing of their kidnappers who might use the slowed traffic to harm people.] Shit... Waiting for the police could take a while.

[hairsplit]

( it's a strange feeling, the relief that rushes through him--bakugou isn't scolding him, or even making a face at his question, and that earns a soft puff of breath, almost a laugh, tinged on the tip of his tongue. he understands him. bakugou's always understood him in his own way, different from people like kirishima, or midoriya, who could understand him just by the sheer goodness of their hearts. bakugou's able to crawl into the cracks, to spread himself out there and read through all the pieces of himself that he's kept hidden away without breaking them into larger pieces--and there's a soft nod of his head, his hair ducking, bangs hiding the slightly reddened rim of his gaze for long enough to get it under control. bakugou believes in them, believes in him, and something like this isn't going to be any kind of end for them. it's just going to be a pain to get out of it.

his fingers tighten, slightly, digging into his shirt: for as much as his ribs ache, he knows that bakugou's arm hurts more, and so he purposefully keeps his pace slow, as though to force bakugou to match him rather than to force bakugou to admit that he has to go a little slower. )

Mm... Spicy, like always. ( his tongue isn't quite as refined as bakugou's is, given that he prefers his food a little more bland, a little cooler, but even so--bakugou isn't the only one who enjoyed his sister's spicy mapo tofu. ) I want gyoza, too.

( the thought of a good meal, warm food, bakugou's snarling at him to eat more--it makes his chin lift, bolstering himself with a faint smile as they continue on. he's well aware of the relative silence around them, which is both good and bad, all things considered; bakugou's still losing blood, by the way he glances again at his shoulder, and his jaw sets, trying to decide if it's worth it to stop them for long enough to try to put more pressure on the wound. maybe he should tie it all tighter, as though trying to avoid having to resort to fire--but would bakugou even let him?

he's lost enough in his own calculations that he barely even recognizes that they've made it to the highway until the sound becomes too loud to ignore; his eyes round, both pleased and disappointed. a part of him had hoped that they might find the police out here, but judging by the sight, there's no stopped cars, no blazing siren, no ambulance here to pick them up. his gaze swings to bakugou, once, then back out towards the lanes; with a soft nod of his chin, he agrees. )

We can't wait that long. Not with y--not with injury. ( there's a slight wince, as though he doesn't want to say it-- ) If we flag someone down, we can call...Endeavor, at least.

( if nothing else, he could get a car to them quickly. briefly, he wonders if it might be better to call hawks, but he doesn't have that number memorized; unfortunately, it's going to have to be his father, which is an entirely different can of worms.

the tilt of his head at bakugou is a silent question--he's already charged forward too many times, dragged bakugou through his own plans without asking, and since they have a moment here, however small, he wants his boyfriend's opinion. the last thing he wants to do is make a mistake here, so close to the end; his gaze slides back to bakugou's shoulder again, like he can't help but look at it like his own mistake every time. )

[blastedass]

[giving todoroki anything but hope and assurance right now would spit in the face of being a hero. even if he does do so in his usual gruff way. despite his initial digging of his heels into the ground to get any knowledge on this blank-faced idiot through his head, bits and pieces began filtering across. from his blase way of walking in front of him on their route to remediation classes to his rejection of violence against those shitty brats to his embarrassed frustration when dealing with endeavor's attempts to be a better father, he's noticed more and more little things about todoroki. elements stuck in his mind serving as a chisel and guide to navigate through his glaciated flambéed heart. checking on his expression enough times to notice a tiny twitch at one end of his brow when he's irked, his lips setting in a firmer press as emotions rise, his eyes lingering a second or two longer on something interesting him. he knows more about this boy than he ever thought he would or even wanted to. and because of that... he never wants to see someone he knows so much about and cares so much about crumble in the face of despair. they're getting the fuck through this, one damn way or another. so he can continue to see and learn more of those stupid lovely things composing todoroki.

doesn't mean he's "okay" with the hero slowing his pace down as a means of forcing his own legs into a drawn speed. dammit, he wants to go faster, to run, to throw caution to the wind and blitz the damn hill before something else goes wrong! that "something" being someone's ankle if todoroki didn't demand through body motion alone they ease up. all without saying anything to piss him off. what a class act.]

Duh. [spicy as always, with one half cooler or a separate option for the more sensitive tongue. why the hell would he make something or get something his boyfriend wouldn't enjoy? real shit relationship decision there. recipes passing todoroki's silent approval get stored away for later.] Fresh or frozen?

[shut up. there's a difference in flavor. unfortunately, they aren't permitted the luxury of a polite demure arrival of police cares and flaming pro heroes in the relative peace of a highway-crested hillside. while the option to wait there crossed his mind, standing out in the open with people trying to kidnap or kill them still roving round the unknown in range is a shitty idea. keeping cover away from vehicles tearing after them and in sight of witnesses soundly ruins any attempt at stealing either of them away again. the highway is their safety, screw the publicity on the horizon. neither of their injuries are doing them favors when it comes to time either. he forces his fingers open and closed again, forces blood through his veins, forces feeling back into his nerves. you listen to him, damn fingers; no one's giving you permission to cut out while he's still conscious!]

You're a dumbass if you think Endeavor isn't on his way right now. [the dispatch knows both heroes are in the area; of course they're going to alert the number one hero about it! if not others in their class because gossip's a fucking worm with them. todoroki's gonna have to deal with his annoying ass smothering old man one way or another. the sirens he heard earlier aren't registering in his ears either, making him wonder if those were for them or an unrelated search. under cover of trees lining the highway, they can stay hidden for a bit longer to decide.]

Stop looking at it! [his shoulder!] I'm fine! [sheesh! you have your own injuries to deal with, half-n-half! his is treated as best they could together in the time they had with the shit they had. there is another option though... without causing a traffic jam or waiting for the police here. red eyes narrow at the oncoming traffic. plenty of cars and trucks, but what he's watching for...] There. Get ready to jump.

[an open flatbed of supplies dragged behind a truck. they can easily make the jump. crashing into it means a hard impact, but they'll have safety, a route, and provided they driver doesn't flip the fuck out, possible communication going forward. is it commandeering a vehicle for heroics? possibly. he rolls his good shoulder and sets his foot in front of him, preparing to move.] Don't you dare fucking miss.

[hairsplit]

( wishful thinking, maybe. it's moments like these where he wishes that he could forget endeavor's overbearing nature, especially when it comes to him--moments where he wishes he could have the kind of family that other people seem to have, with parents who hug gently and express their love in the right ways, and not whatever the hell it is he gets when something terrible has happened and endeavor decides that his life was sufficiently risked.

when he'd been younger, he'd been convinced that endeavor only acted that way out of fear of losing his ultimate tool--that he would be distraught to lose the thing that he'd spent so much time training, honing to become something greater than himself. it didn't matter that it was him, just that it was endeavor's precious half-cold half-hot masterpiece: and sometimes he still feel that way, when he gets scolded after a school mission or exam. that it doesn't matter that he's his son, just that he's his creation.

so wishful thinking, that maybe endeavor isn't already on his way. that he isn't raging and screaming and demanding that his driver go faster, that he isn't just giving up halfway to fly the rest of the distance. the unfortunate realization makes him wince: he tries to hide it, twisting his face away from bakugou, but his gaze scans out across the highway, as though certain he'll see a familiar jut of red flames coming their way. it's inevitable. bakugou's right--he can't get out of something like this, no matter how much he wants to.

that doesn't mean he thinks this is a good idea. the thought of the impact of bakugou's shoulder, with the jump--his breath comes out in a rush, like he's already formulating the words of his argument, jaw locked, firm; still, his eyes are tracing the flatbed, watching its approach, and he knows that even if he takes bakugou by the arm and yanks him back, he'll still do it because that's the kind of person that he is. it's better not to waste time, then--he just has to make it as safe as he can.

which means, of course, that he's taking a step forward, priming himself to jump first--because he can always brace bakugou with ice, if he has to, as much as it might take out of him. with a short nod of confirmation, he skids up the curb of the barrier so that he can take a primed leap off the top, colliding almost instantly with the flatbed with only the smallest brace of ice to slow himself down--the truck swerves a little with the weight, but it doesn't slide out of the lane, and though the supplies bunched around him are rattled, he slides himself up onto his knees, immediately whipping his head up to look for bakugou's jump all the same.

immediately, the searing pain of the impact washes over him--it's mostly just his damaged ribs, crying out from further jostling, but there's nothing to be done about it; he folds his arm in tight against his side to press into them, his other hand poised as though he will absolutely encase bakugou in ice if he doesn't land nicely next to him in the flatbed. being protective, being in love, being the reason that bakugou's this hurt to begin with: it all mixes together with that trademark todoroki stubbornness, meaning his jaw is set into a neat little frown, determined; he's at least grateful that the driver hasn't immediately skidded to a stop yet, meaning they might have more to work with than he'd thought.

he does, at least, have the cheeky forethought to call out into the noise of the highway, as bakugou's jumping into the flatbed with him-- )

Don't you dare miss.

[blastedass]

[there's too much in there for him to help todoroki unpack. he's never been one to listen to other's sob stories or show sympathy for trauma. kirishima's self doubt in the common area earned him a curt reality check and reminder. midoriya's troubles likewise received little more than irritable demands to stop complaining and get stronger. walking right past an argument with nothing but "losers" tossed his classmates' way for getting into a squabble over bullshit.

and yet, there are things he refuses to touch. todoroki's trauma and past came to light as more and more layers peeled back, resulting in his attention lingering on the other boy. when endeavor attended their remediation training, he found himself glancing at his classmate from the side, gauging his reaction, focus, and feelings. imperceptible as they can be on his blase face, todoroki's no longer an icy heart. emotions arise, he notices them. similar to his work in their internship under endeavor. how his voice changed when he chewed his father out for wanting to give his son special training. how his jaw set when a gruff voice tried to pull back from what he can only assume had been familiarity in shouting.

todoroki's issues with his father are far too great for his boyfriend to even remotely consider shouldering. but by the same token, what kind of shitty boyfriend would he be to let the man he loves endanger himself over pride and past? endeavor's on his way, whether todoroki likes it or not. he called the police knowing exactly what would happen. regret's a pool he doesn't permit himself to dip into often. both men are changing, breaking out of painful hells. perhaps someday, they'll be able to reach whatever plateau will permit them to coexist. so long as endeavor gets it through his thick skull he'll still be beside todoroki when that day comes.

as he readies to jump from a grassy knoll onto the bed of a truck passing towards them. is this a good idea? not the greatest. but the best one they have right now with their current situation. with their quirks on the fritz, no promise of their pursuers giving up or knowledge on their whereabouts, no steady contact with police or heroes, he doesn't feel comfortable standing around near the place they escaped from. get away, put some distance, sort their options, move. besides, he has an additional plan once they make it onto the damn truck...

todoroki moves-] Who said you get to go in front of me?! You're injured, dammit!

[boots crunch against a the metal rim, groaning it beneath down to the solid brace, and grass becomes asphalt in a flash beneath his airborne legs. one arm overhead, the other swinging to the side, and lands almost at the same time as the other hero. one leg buckles as he goes down, rolling onto his uninjured arm deliberately to avoid crushing the other one. if the driver didn't hear the impact, he'll certainly have felt the sudden weight. one of them? no. but two? duh. he quickly rolls back to his knees, planting his good hand on the truck bed and ducking to the side as a sack of fertilizer slides towards him. great. crashed into a landscaping flatbed. plenty of gardening supplies range from packaged to tied down to free resting albeit stuffed between other tools. noticing todoroki's pained wince and arm clasping to his side, he quickly puts a hand to his boyfriend's shoulder.] Lie down before you break something else.

[miss. of course he wasn't going to miss, idiot! he's jumped onto moving targets plenty of times! whether todoroki obeys him or not, the blonde twists to the side and starts making his way across the undulating grounds of supplies. there's no way the driver hasn't spotted them by now; he sees his eyes wide as dinner plates in the rear view mirror as the hero crawls towards the truck cab. oh yeah, this geezer recognizes them. all he needs is to get to that small window...

*sha-kunk!*] Gimme your damn phone, and keep driving! [now they have constant and safe access to the police and their friends, while being more or less protected.]

[hairsplit]

( a flood of relief, though he doesn't want it to show on his face--it does anyway, a flash of it from eyes to mouth, a slow breath that sighs out in a rush of steam. bakugou's always been better at this sort of thing, and he thinks part of that is from having such precise control over his quirk; with how long he'd stuck to just his ice, it had taken some time to learn how to keep himself afloat with his fire, how to move, how to aim for things and keep going. but bakugou's never had that kind of trouble, something that he envies as much as he admires: it's always been easier for him to learn by watching others, and having had bakugou so close to him all the time has really helped him make improvements. there was no doubt, really, that bakugou would make it with ease--just as there was no doubt that he'd be the one to take charge, all the same.

one of his hands lifts, almost like he wants to reach out and stop him; bakugou's might is well known, but his attitude is also equally infamous, but even as he starts to ease up onto his knees again, he knows better than to interrupt. the glass divider slides open, and bakugou makes his demands; the wind from the highway whips around them, though with all of the bags of soil and carefully-packed pallets of potted plants, it helps mitigate the impact. stunned, the driver fumbles for his phone, but passes it back to bakugou while trying to maintain both speed and accuracy.

peering up onto one knee, as though to ensure that bakugou is still fine, he settles back only once he sees bakugou's got the phone in hand. )

We should go to the hospital, first. ( that's the only demand he'll make--and he's adamant about it, calling out over the sound of the cars around them, the sound of the truck bumping along down the road. ) For your shoulder.

( it's not so much that he's being obedient: sure, bakugou told him to lay down, but he's instead sat himself up against a few stacked boxes of seed packets, one arm clutched around his chest, the other loose in his lap. a little bit of dirt bubbles and trickles down off one of the other pallets; when it lands in his hair, he hardly notices, giving an almost feline shake of his head to dust it off. )

That's where we're going. They can meet us there. ( he's still calmly saying all this out to bakugou, despite him being on the phone already--it's his own little brand of stubbornness, and maybe selfishness, in a way; there will be plenty of time to make a report, but he wants bakugou looked after, first. )

[blastedass]

[he never would have told todoroki to jump if he didn't believe he could make it. nothing but a goddamn ice maker when he started at u.a., literally frozen in his hateful mindset. until midoriya broke him out of it and ignited his flames under his own desire. he watched him from there, never forgetting that shitty finals match, as if the sight of todoroki improving his quirk somehow made a paltry consolation prize of what he should've been battling. not some troubled boy operating at crap output. from massive gouts of flame to struggling fine control, a single foot bearing the weight and balance of his entire body during flight. oh he was smug as fuck when todoroki crashed a few times, even taunted him for failing where the blonde had already succeeded so spectacularly before him. but every time that handsome serious face displayed resolve he found himself admiring. it's that admiration which told him to jump and not look back. todoroki would make it and they'd be fine.

growling a quick assurance the driver's not in trouble, he slams the window shut and stalks back into the little truck bed greenhouse his boyfriend remains crouched within. greenery flaps around them through the wind, tousling todoroki's two-toned hair in its stupidly photogenic whips. nary a damn tangle. finally feeling safe enough to breathe, he pours himself onto his ass beside his partner and drops his back against the pallet. adrenaline and tourniquet make a hell of a pain stop despite the bloody injury. dried blood by now, no further wet thanks to todoroki's attention earlier.]

The nearest one is twenty minutes away. [leaning in close to talk over the wind and stay sheltered, he tilts a cupped hand holding the phone so his boyfriend can look it over. colored lines snake across its map display, one blood-stained finger indicating the highway rumbling beneath the wheels. he's not dissuading todoroki's stubborn demand. hospital's fine. they have phones, a police station nearby, and medics to inspect the other hero's busted ribs.

oy! the fuck?! tension flares in his chest, heart leaping thanks to someone's sudden violent head shaking. only realizing a second later it's due to the dirt. tch, that's kinda cute. he reaches and whaps a hand against the offending sod sack, sealing a tiny pinhole leak so no more mess leaks onto todoroki's head. doesn't need him dirtier than he already is. shoulder to shoulder, he texts their new destination to the police contact from earlier, as well as texting midoriya, iida, and yaoyorozu for the best result of communicating with their classmates. probably blaring out on the fucking news already.] All right. Everyone knows.

[enough to relay to the rest meaning "everyone" now. bakugou has to make a quick trip back to the truck cab and return the phone, as well as instruct the driver on the hospital location and which exit to take. then returns to finally rest against his boyfriend's side, eyes lidding and exhaustion rearing its ugly head.] Brave bastard...

[hairsplit]

( the thought of what remains in front of them is almost too much: having to explain himself to midoriya is one thing, promising and apologizing for putting his close friend in trouble, and having to fend off the worry from iida, yaoyorozu, and the rest of their classmates is something else entirely. it's even possible that the rest of them could become easy targets, thus creating another problem on top of all the problem they're dealing with lately--he can only imagine the sort of headache that they're going to cause aizawa-sensei, too, especially given that this all started thanks to being somewhere that they probably shouldn't have been, to begin with. of course, looming over all of that is the idea of endeavor's rage and desperation, the way that he's sure his father is going to crush him into his chest and threaten to break another two ribs with the effort behind it--his eyes close for a moment, a tired sigh moving past his lips, but he can't deny it, just as bakugou said earlier. all they can do is face what's coming next.

he doesn't move, letting bakugou settle against him, and when he sees bakugou's eyes lidding, threatening to close, he stays quiet; still and sure, he squares his shoulders against the crates behind him, letting his boyfriend have a moment of rest as they head towards the hospital. it doesn't really take that long, when it comes down to it--or maybe he himself had blacked out for a few moments there, lost in the comfort of the wind whipping around them, the quiet sounds of cars around them on the highway. it's only once the truck comes to a stop, and the driver lurches out to come around to open the back of the trunk bed, that he forces himself up, letting bakugou rest there as he climbs out--he offers the driver his thanks and apologies, assuring him that they'll offer him some restitution for clamoring into his truck and losing him that tiny bit of soil; it seems only proper. then it's a blur of medical staff that comes next to retrieve bakugou from the back of the truck--he argues, adamantly, that he can walk himself inside, and instead demands focus be put on bakugou's injuries; it hurts to be separated, hurts to see bakugou being carted away inside, but he knows he can't make any silly demands, here.

this is what he wanted, and when he walks inside with the help of two other medics, he can already hear endeavor's voice in the lobby of the emergency room, arguing with one of the staff at the desk. guess he'd gotten there pretty quick after all--for now, however, he knows the staff will be too busy processing the two of them to let anyone else inside, which is honestly a relief. he hasn't decided how to explain anything to his father, just yet.

that may be the reason, in the end, that he's creeping into bakugou's room a few hours later, once he's been examined, given painkillers, and washed up; the doctor wants to keep them both for observation, though there's little to be done about the broken ribs except ice and rest, and the rest of the cuts and bruises will heal on their own. it's more bakugou that he thinks everyone is rightfully concerned with: and he's concerned most of all, gently creaking the hospital door open so that he can slide himself in as silently as possible. endeavor had been both furious and worried sick--to say nothing of the way bakugou's mother had been, swearing up and down that she'd find the people that did this in a flurry of expletives that even he had never heard before. for now, they've been cleared of visitors thanks to the late hour: which means that it's just bakugou in the room, as he creeps towards the empty chair near the end of his hospital bed, trying not to wake him if he's asleep.

when he eases down into it, it's slow, a wheezing breath as he tries not to dislodge the pack of ice he's got held against his side--immediately his gaze goes to bakugou, as though if he doesn't watch him in the bed, then he might not be there when he looks again. sure, their parents and even aizawa-sensei might be fiercely protective, but he thinks that his sharp desire to keep bakugou safe might even rival theirs; once he's contented that bakugou is still there, beneath the thin hospital sheets, he settles, slouching slightly in the chair to get more comfortable. )