[ Choso's voice is a gurgle, it's spittle and blood pushed out between his teeth on the hard consonants, it's hitched higher than before because ]
It isthn't okay.
[ Bakugo is right, of course he's right; Choso had wondered at it, worried at it, had looked over the rundown of the prodecure with dread in his heart but Yuji was determined, was the picture of super-human adaptability, was woefully indestructible to the degree that this, none of this was okay and here Choso was despite it all, wrapped like the world's worst spring roll while a cat performed brain surgery on his brother.
The distant, inward cast to his expression ruptures with the pinch and draw of his brows up, with the wrinkle of his chin and the clench of his jaw like he doesn't know if he wants to snarl and snap or cry. It's so open a shift, such a raw thing gleaming wound-wet and shiny like he doesn't know how to hide it, but he doesn't look away while Bakugo works, couldn't if he tried. The least he can do is angle himself into a 'corner' of the tub furthest from boom boy's face, completing the look of 'dog at groomers', the only courtesy he can offer in this as his mark begins to bleed bright arterial red anew. ]
They're in hihh-- they're in hhhis head!
[ Be calm, listen, keep doing that, this isn't okay, a fucking reflection, words on words on words piling up and as his pulse kicks up a click Choso's hands creep back up to press the heels of his hands against his temples, fingers fisting in his hair to finally finish off that second odango. ]
no subject
It isthn't okay.
[ Bakugo is right, of course he's right; Choso had wondered at it, worried at it, had looked over the rundown of the prodecure with dread in his heart but Yuji was determined, was the picture of super-human adaptability, was woefully indestructible to the degree that this, none of this was okay and here Choso was despite it all, wrapped like the world's worst spring roll while a cat performed brain surgery on his brother.
The distant, inward cast to his expression ruptures with the pinch and draw of his brows up, with the wrinkle of his chin and the clench of his jaw like he doesn't know if he wants to snarl and snap or cry. It's so open a shift, such a raw thing gleaming wound-wet and shiny like he doesn't know how to hide it, but he doesn't look away while Bakugo works, couldn't if he tried. The least he can do is angle himself into a 'corner' of the tub furthest from boom boy's face, completing the look of 'dog at groomers', the only courtesy he can offer in this as his mark begins to bleed bright arterial red anew. ]
They're in hihh-- they're in hhhis head!
[ Be calm, listen, keep doing that, this isn't okay, a fucking reflection, words on words on words piling up and as his pulse kicks up a click Choso's hands creep back up to press the heels of his hands against his temples, fingers fisting in his hair to finally finish off that second odango. ]