[ The only saving grace for either of them is that it's Bakugo doing it, Bakugo laying out his intent, Bakugo pushing past bloodied lips and teeth to swipe the strange tang of vinyl composite gloves across the well of Choso's mouth. Because it is Bakugo who is hooking a finger over his incisors, Choso locks his jaw open, flattens his tongue and allows the deluge of water to wash out the remaining blood that had flooded his mouth while the rest of his body tenses against his own wretched reflexes.
Thankfully, nothing needs to be puked out.
Regrettably, Choso doesn't even realize he's trying to ball up again until he meets the resistance in Bakugo's hand gripping his, one more physical reminder to stay, damn it, stay here.
Pay attention, Choso. Look at him. Don't get lost. ]
Forgive me. [ it's puzzling, how difficult breath has become to catch. ] I let him go there.
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Thankfully, nothing needs to be puked out.
Regrettably, Choso doesn't even realize he's trying to ball up again until he meets the resistance in Bakugo's hand gripping his, one more physical reminder to stay, damn it, stay here.
Pay attention, Choso. Look at him. Don't get lost. ]
Forgive me. [ it's puzzling, how difficult breath has become to catch. ] I let him go there.