( That rough voice draws him out of his thoughts a little, but it still feels like he's in an ice cold pool of water. Or blood, would be more accurate, he supposes. It's too thick, too slowly suffocating, this fog around the edge of all of his senses. Another branch tries to sprout from nothing but blood at the edge of his exposed muscle, blooming only briefly— but it's yanked out along with the others. )
Ngh.
( What was he saying? That voice. Awake?
Esikko tries to open his eyes, blearily staring across the tile into the rest of the suite. He hurts, he still hurts, but it's almost numb right now, like his body has forgotten the pain. Forgotten, like everything else is threatening to be, but a harsh wince draws back piece by piece, grasping onto them with desperation. Bakugo, it's Bakugo. He called him here. )
It's cold...
( It's nearly whispered, with how weak it comes out, but it's an attempt all the same. It's cold, not just from the blood loss, not just from his blood being so icy to the touch, but everything, everywhere, always— and it feels too pathetic, to be lying here like this, to be making someone do this so that he can squeeze out even more life than he's already had, but he doesn't want to die. Even at the times when he feels the most useless, the most pathetic, that feeling doesn't leave him. He doesn't want to die.
His eyes shut again, tighter, and he slides his palm closer to his face to block them as he tries to steady his emotions. )
[Like hell you do. YANK! Bakugo pulls the sapling from its moors and tosses it aside. Eyes dart from one area to the next, passing over grisly exposure of gristle, muscle, tendon, even bone. Gross. He's done some minor surgery and suturing before on cuts and burns, but laying open someone's back like this? These images are gonna stick in his mind far too long. As tempting as it is to grab a towel and start scrubbing, hoping to rasp away the remains in a feel sweep, he refuses the urge and keeps grabbing, pinching, digging if he has to, and otherwise ridding the curse from Esikko's flesh.]
Of course it's cold! You're bleeding out. [And the prince is normally an ice box. His rough voice carries what seems to be little sympathy, but Bakugo's hardened his heart in exchange for doing the wretched deed. Esikko promised him this was the way to save his life. So he better fucking have meant it! He has no intention of explaining to everyone the prince is friends with that he killed Esikko trying to help him. Bastard turned down his offer (demand) to go to the medical wing.
Is this how the prince managed his resets? Tearing himself out until there's nothing left but some kind of seed? How fucking long is this going to last? How much blood does he have left in his body?]
Dammit, you better show some improvements or I'm gonna get a fucking shovel! [Covering up concern with anger.] You said this would help, so help!
( He'd be touched if he could process it. He will be later, in fact. But right now, everything feels distant, like he's watching a scene from the third person, feeling himself slip further away. Stubbornly, he grasps onto life like he often does, clinging to the thought of not being alone, of Bakugo being here. As if to match, physically, his fingers curl tighter beside his face, still shielding his eyes, but more movement is probably a good thing, even if he can't hold the tighter grip for long before it slips. In and out like that, he tries to stay conscious, even as everything blurs and spins, even as he feels so tired. )
It's... it's helping. But— ( Speaking feels hard. The words come slow, the energy to find the air for each word is painful on his chest, on weak lungs and heart, but he pushes stubbornly past that. ) Clear... as much as you can, then stop the bleeding.
I have medication, I made, after that. It's in the kitchen. I have to drink it. ( His body shakes a little with the next breath in, holding it there as his fingers curl tight once more. ) To hold it back, a little.
( Obviously it's no cure. But he's working on it. He's... trying to work on it, anyway. Alternating between trying and not. Softly, quietly, ashamed, he adds on: ) I'm sorry.
( He breathes in, too slow and not deep enough and shaky, but it's still there, he's still alive. Thanks to Bakugo. ) I didn't know who to call.
[Esikko better be clinging onto life. Bakugo tosses another dissipating branch of blood to the side, then leans back, trying not to focus on how fucking gory his hands are. Even with the towel, the blood seeps right through. He discards that one, not even able to use it as a wipe for the man's back. Dammit, there are more around here, but he has to lean hard to the side and grasp it to drag the thing over. Bakugo presses its surface to the man's back, trying to blot the entirety of his hewn flesh and clear some of the mess. No scrubbing, no raking, no roughness. Terrycloth comes away from muscle and bone without strands of blood this time and he scans over Esikko's back for any remaining branches.]
Stop the bleeding with what? [His entire back's essentially torn open! He doesn't have a fucking new layer of back skin to slap over his exposed core and start suturing it up! A few sparks pop and snap over one hand, frying the blood on his palm and fingers. There's cauterizing the entire site, but in Esikko's state, the shock and pain would probably stop his heart. Without any other option, he presses the towel against his back and leaves it there.]
I'm getting the medicine. Stay alive even if you have to bite your fucking hand. [With that, Bakugo pushes up to his feet and heads for the kitchen. No, he doesn't expect a cure or he wouldn't be here doing this shit. Swiping the medicine from the counter, the hero pivots on his foot and returns to Esikko's side.]
Apologize if you fail. Not now. [Not when he's alive and stubbornly staying so.] You need to drink this or cut it with some water first?
( His answer to that is to reach out to try and put his hand over Bakugo's, to borrow the stability of his grip to bring it to his lips. He'll drink it even from the floor, even if a bit of it spills, gasping out when he finishes, wincing a little. )
Water, too. Ugh— gauze, there should be some...
( It's hard to form sentences fully, and so Esikko trails off there, struggling to find the words before he eventually just points with a tired, bloodied hand. With the bandages, and the first aid kits, he's crammed enough gauze into them to cover wounds this large. It's all he can think to cover it and bandage it, as that's what he's always done before...
Everything feels fuzzy. The longer he looks at Bakugo, the more he feels like he can see someone else, various others with different expressions and different emotions that go with it. Words that aren't Bakugo's are sounding louder, and he presses his palm to his own temple, grunting out. )
You're going to stay, right? ( It's muttered, distracted, and potentially even when Bakugo is busy trying to retrieve the bandages. He can't tell. )
[Decided. Bakugo cups one hand under Esikko's chin, helping to lift his head, and brings the bottle to his lips with the other. He won't let him guzzle it, but rather pours some in, enough to get his tongue and lower mouth wet, then tilts it down and back.]
Swallow.
[No spills. He's not wasting any of this if it means Esikko lives. Drinking in this position is shit, but he can't roll the man onto his back either. They're going it fast and small. Bottle to the lips, pour, part, swallow, repeat. Any drops managing to escape end up caught in Bakugo's palm. He'll make Esikko lick those off at the end if he has to. Don't bitch at his hospice manners! 100% medicine completion or nothing!
He's less thorough with the water, not minding if Esikko spills some. A fucking sink's right over there. Leaving him bloody and panting on the floor feels like a cruelty, but price paid to get the gauze and medication.
Is he going to stay?]
If you're gonna waste your strength asking stupid questions, pass out already, Prince Prick.
[Dumbass. Does he look like someone who'd abandon a person mid-help? Bakugo kneels beside Esikko's body and begins his work. Ointment and antiseptic/bacterial spray coat the wound as quick but thorough as he can. He outlines the injury perimeter with gauze strips, then layers the entire wound with more. Only then does the wrapping begin. Around his ribs, under his torso, out the other side, up his ribs, across his back, and repeat. Keeping the original bandaging in place. Satisfied, he pins the gauze and repeats the entire method with bandages.]
( It's mumbled, barely audible, like he's embarrassed. But he doesn't push on that further either way, instead allowing Bakugo to clean and bandage him. He'll find that just shortly after taking that medication, there's a lot less of that excessive bleeding, and no additional branches or blooms seem to sprout up.
He's quiet, even when it hurts. He's used to a moderate amount of pain pretty frequently, honestly, and even if he wasn't, that burst of it at the second breaking of his skin was so bad that everything else feels numb in comparison. The medication, too, helps with some of that. )
I thought I had more time. ( Quietly, he adds it on when Bakugo seems close to finishing the bandages. ) Or I would have been more prepared.
What'd I just say? [Stop talking, dammit! It's as if Esikko forgot who he is! Bakugo's insulted the man thinks he'd show up to help him with something like this, then bounce without a damn word. Granted he'd rather have taken Esikko to the medical wing and let someone more knowledgeable help him, but the prince refused. So this is the next best thing. He takes some heart when noticing there's not as much blood, and no new bloody plants showing up.
Of course it hurts. You'd think by now Esikko would've gone completely numb from blood loss and shock, but apparently cursed existences like to give prolonged suffering for the power in return. He makes sure not to drop Esikko back into the pile of bloody towels, using the moment he has his body lifted to steal the mess out from under him and shove in a few more clean ones from the closet. Then lowers him back down. Bakugo isn't going to risk moving him to the bed.]
When you're better, you're gonna put together a fucking preparation kit and keep it easily accessible. With instructions.
( It's cold, but it doesn't feel as much like the world is closing in from around him. Esikko breathes out a shaky sigh because of it, as he's rested back down on the floor, eyes falling shut. He can feel the ache in his back, but his heart is beating so fast it almost doesn't bother him, right now. Almost doesn't hurt. )
How about... ( His head turns against the floor, eyes tiredly opening to search out Bakugo. His words are just as sluggish and weak, but he insists on continuing. ) ..."If found injured, call Bakugo."
( Making a joke in a time like this seems perfect, he thinks. Bakugo's angry yelling is almost nice, right now. Comforting, in a strange way. It's like there's care behind those words, like those angry little outbursts might stand even the slimmest chance at warming his cold body, heart and all. )
Housekeeping will clean everything up, so leave it. I have rabbits. Will you feed them?
[No machines to regulate his heart or breathing, no trustworthy temperature to know if he's burning a fever or losing too much blood, all Bakugo has to go on is whether Esikko's still breathing and conscious enough to talk. Easing him down onto the floor almost didn't happen, part of him wanting to keep the man propped up rather than left like some fucking murder scene on the ground. But... his back needs to stay as straight and still as possible. So, down he goes.]
You're fucking hilarious. [Immediately rejected with a snarl. Does Esikko really need him to counter that blood-lost-hazy stupid humor with blunt logic on how dumb it'd be to make the man wait for help if someone was there to do it instead?!] Focus on breathing and recovering; save your lame jokes for later.
["Later" meaning after he's strong enough to take a pillow to the face for being a dork.]
What am I, a damn maid now?
[Snarling even as he begins cleaning up the absolutely gore-fest the room's become. He deliberately stays close to Esikko, glancing at him regularly as he works, not wanting the man to wake up in a puddle of blood and evidence of his almost death. Bloody towels, gauze and bandages, washcloths, everything.]
You're explaining this shit to me when you recover.
( It sounds like agreement, at least, though he's too tired to fully respond. Quietly, he fades into rest, too exhausted to keep himself awake any longer. His new suite is large, but at least it's clean and organized. It's easy to find which room is Esikko's, if he looks around at all, considering it looks very much like how Bakugo had organized it back down in the 2s, just bigger. His journal is laid out on his desk, as usual... That's upstairs, though. Downstairs, there's a room that doesn't look like it suits Esikko at all (dark and minimalist), and a room reserved for his rabbits which seem to be named Order and Chaos.
Esikko's condition stabilizes slowly. Breathing steadies, his heart stops working so hard, and it seems like the bandages are staying in place, even if they will need changing fairly regularly. Right now, they're good.
But Esikko is a poor sleeper, and sleeping on the floor isn't helping. After about an hour or two, there's a soft groan from him on the floor as he wakes up, a little sore and already trying to push himself to sit up. Where's Bakugo now... )
[Bakugo lingers nearby, watching Esikko's eyes close and his body rise and fall with his breaths. Only after he's sure he's gone to sleep does the blonde move to his side and crouch down. He reaches a hand out, holds it in front of the prince's mouth and nose... Good, he's breathing. Satisfied, Bakugo leaves into the suite proper. Having spent a month in a Queen suite, he's more familiar with the general layout.
Tch, he better have kept his room neat, after all the crap he did to doctor up the little Rank-2 room before. Bakugo has no interest in snooping around. He gathers the bloody towels and fabric, finds the washer and drier, and dumps the entire wad in. Ace suite appliances should be able to handle this load. Detergent, softener, lid down, and turned on.
Finding the rabbits isn't the worst chore, but if Esikko doesn't keep their food in the kitchen fridge, he's gonna have to locate it elsewhere. Done with that, with more or less frustration, he returns to the prince and silently cleans up the floor around him. No bumping or shoving to disturb him means there's going to be a gory outline later, but the rest of the ground is spotless.
What, does Esikko expect him to sit here to do fuck all waiting for him? Within the hour, the entire mess-- sans was the prince is sleeping on --is gone. Bakugo's spent the rest of the time throwing a small meal into the oven via a stoneware pot. Whatever meat he found in Esikko's kitchen, a simple broth and seasoning, some beans and oranges/lemons. After that much blood loss, he's going to need a rush of iron and vitamin C. Anything the guy's got that fits into the category.
It's obviously not done by the time he spots Esikko stirring out the corner of his eye. Bakugo approaches him with a few clean towels, ready to catch him if he looks like he's going to fall, but willing to let him get up on his own if he can.]
( His kitchen is... pathetically stocked. Bakugo was likely able to find the bare bones that he did by chance, since Esikko hasn't a clue how to cook and would only set his kitchen on fire. His fridge is nearly empty, with leftovers from takeout that seem days old and untouched, and the only supplies are... from some sort of an Ace welcoming kit that was left there with the suite.
Esikko manages to stand, even if he's unsteady on his feet. As he lifts a hand, it's clearly a little shaky, from dehydration, or blood loss, or both— but he brings it automatically to his own hair, crusted over with dried blood. The face he makes is nothing short of disgusted, frustration creasing his brow. )
Ugh... I must look terrible. I need a shower...
( Of course his first waking thoughts are like this. Even still, he's taking a few more steps to Bakugo, sluggish and unsteady. )
What... ( Time is it? How long has he been out? He pauses, stopping his steps when he reaches the other. ) Something smells good.
[Some leftovers that seem too far gone to a picky palate are actually well enough to be eaten if spruced up and combined with enough. He does his duty to make sure it's not tripped over life before adding it. An Ace welcoming kit at least has a fair number of supplies considering the luxury and inclusion the Peacock likes to give people. At least Esikko knew to put things in the fridge.
Bakugo stands vigil beside Esikko, one arm holding the towels over his forearm, the other free to catch him should he stumble. Unsteady, yes, but the prince rises. Far better than lying on the floor dying in a pool of blood. As Esikko tries to wrangle his fingers through hair matted crisp with blood, Bakugo pulls a face.]
You look like shit.
[Terrible definitely wears Esikko as its picture. On approach, he offers a glass of cool (not cold) water. If Bakugo had more time, he'd've really grossed the prince out by shoving a blending of liver and broccoli down his throat.]
Here. Then go get cleaned up.
[Good, Esikko can walk. He can move his arms. He can hold items. He can talk. Seems his motor skills are all there.]
It's a false roast. [Seasoned potatoes mashed and mixed with the fine-diced remains of what's still edible of Esikko's leftovers, molded into a loaf-shaped and wrapped in a double shell of welcome bacon. A small pot of broth holds the beans and citrus on the stove. No cake for you.]
( While agreement at him looking terrible earns a frown, it's not as if he can joke around and get offended by it. He knows it must be the truth. Hair caked with blood, and it's dried over his face and neck and arms and hands and— is there anywhere it's not dirty? He accepts the water with a hand that shakes a little, but he's able to bring it to his lips for a quick drink. Even during that, he can make out the warped reflection of himself in the glass enough to know that the marks beneath his eyes look exceptionally vibrant and angry. )
Thank you.
( Quietly, he presses the glass back towards Bakugo for him to take. He's had most of it. Any more right away and he feels like he'll be sick, but he can have some after he cleans up.
The way he looks over Bakugo says that he's thinking of something, that he's struggling to come up with the words for something he wants to say. But maybe he should get cleaned, first. Still, he hesitates on the first step towards the bathroom upstairs, eyes flicking back to him. )
[Nope. The entire prince is filthy right now. Bakugo's still got the fleet of cleaning supplies by the fridge, waiting for the man to move his ass out of the way so he can tackle that last bit of floor. Already took care of the rest of it, walls included. Felt like the clean up crew from a murder scene. It might be mean to force these "tests" onto Esikko, making him walk, talk, hold water, get his own shower, but Bakugo's determined to see what he can and can't do. He's still not sure how this entire thing relates to the prince's reset. Something to learn later.]
Yeah, yeah.
[Maybe puking would be a good idea, clear any blood potentially in his stomach or cough up the crap in his lungs. He'll be listening for either. Bakugo sets the glass on the countertop and heads for the cleaning supplies.
A vein throbs on his head the second Esikko stops again to ask ANOTHER stupid question! God dammit, Prince Prick!]
Take care of yourself and don't fret over me! If I didn't wanna be here, I wouldn't!
[There's being considerate, and then obnoxiously considerate! Stop being so damn nice, Esikko is.]
( Esikko and nice don't normally go in the same sentence. But that includes people being nice to him, and that's changed so much since arriving here that he doesn't know what to do with it. He's finding himself caring a lot more than he's used to, finding himself more emotionally attached than he's ever been, and he doesn't know what to do about it, how to feel about it.
It feels unmistakably like things like this aren't meant for people like him. Like he's partaking in something he's not allowed to be, like it's all going to flip over on him at some point and it's going to hurt more than ever before because he allowed himself to lean into it. But despite that lingering fear, he wants to hope... And how long has it been since he's done that?
His lips press together in his thought, but he eventually hums some sort of an acknowledging noise and moves to head upstairs, using the railing. He's managing, even if he's weak. Because he had help, because the medication is working, and because he stubbornly wants to live. Wants to accept these things that he shouldn't be allowed to have. )
I'll be quick.
( A shower, though he knows not to make it as hot as he normally likes it. Don't want to pass out again... The water starts, mercifully without any throwing up, and he busies himself with cleaning up. It's not the first time he's had to clean blood off of himself. )
[Compared to Bakugo, Esikko's pretty damn nice. Polite, if a bit cold with some wry charm. He's met some pretty rude ass people in his world, as well as here, and wouldn't put the prince ranked among them. Figuring out those he wants to spend his time and resources on is a different beast altogether. Bakugo didn't come to this place thinking he'd make friends or more than tolerate anyone. Allies at best and that was it.
Not entirely keeping to that idea, but hell if he's going to dwell on it. Right now, there are a few people in this goddamn resort Bakugo keeps an eye on and would give a shit if something bad happened to them. Hell no he's not going to say that to any of them! They'll have to use their brains and understand it through his actions. Sheesh.
Doesn't mean he's a nice person. Bakugo turns as Esikko leaves, red eyes narrowing on the other man and boring holes into his back the entire time he walks. Those legs better support him. Those feet better stay balanced. He didn't show up here and rip bloody fucking roots out of Esikko's back just to have the prince die on the goddamn stairs!]
Rush and I'll cram you in the washer. [Aka: don't hurry on his sake. Take care of yourself and make sure you're clean and well before showing your face. And for fuck's sake, don't pass out in the shower or fall out of it or otherwise make him come up there!
... never mind Bakugo staying quiet downstairs with his ears peeled for any aid Esikko might need, while he cleans up the rest of the floor.]
( He knows, by now, that Bakugo's harsh words are a front. It's not like Esikko is one to blame him for it, either. He hardly knows how to speak his own feelings, either, especially when they're so soft. His steps up the stairs are slow and careful, and the handrail helps a lot with him making it up there, but he does manage. There have been too many times where he's had to crawl out of these situations alone, so if anything, having the backup is reassuring...
But his shower goes without issue, thankfully. He's a little dizzy, a little unsteady, and very hungry, but he manages to pull on some clean sweat pants and a baggy t-shirt— a much plainer outfit than he normally allows himself to be seen in— and makes his way back downstairs.
He looks better now, from that alone. There's a little more color in his face, the blood's all gone, and he was careful to avoid his bandaging in the shower, so there aren't any issues of him bleeding through. His eyes trail for a long moment over the newly cleaned entranceway, and he breathes in slowly as he trudges towards the kitchen, where he assumes he can find Bakugo.
It might make sense for him to go straight for food, and he'll try his best to, but first— first he's going to approach Bakugo, wherever he is, and drape himself obnoxiously over his shoulders. It's a hug. Not a very tight one, because he's worried that even as injured as he is, Bakugo might throw him off, but. Take this wordless hug, punk...
He's not sure if he's ever initiated a hug before, but he's trying his hardest not to think about that right now. )
[One step at a time. Each one's under his careful eye and ear. Any slip, any stumble, any struggle... but none of them happen and Bakugo quietly goes back to his work. Feelings are for each person to deal with; he doesn't wanna deal with other people's feelings. Most of the time. Arrogant blowhards, whining cowards, sappy weirdos, gabby idiots, fucking extras. He's got his own shit to handle. And yet here he is, checking in on people, helping someone with his injuries. Dammit.
Bakugo pops the lid off the broth and takes a small spoon to its clarified surface. One soft puff of air cools it for a taste test. Tsk, bland as fuck in his opinion. Probably because it's not flaming hot; Esikko doesn't need his guts turning to lava when he's trying to digest something nice. Steam cuts off under lid once more and he crouches down on the balls of his feet, red eyes peering into a lit oven. The roast probably has a few more minutes.
One hand on the stove rim pulls him up, a knee popping for whatever reason, and Bakugo returns to the fridge for a drink. Esikko would probably want hot chocolate, but in his state, he needs as much iron as possible, to help his blood loss, not a shit ton of sugar.
He's just finished taking the roast out of the oven, a dark rusty colored mound of spiraling lines glistening with savory juice amid an aroma of mealy potato and scant spices. Faint hints of "other" wander amid the main scent, contributed by the bits and pieces of Esikko's leftovers sprinkled so nimbly within and now suspended among the mashed starches. He might have made a glaze to go along with this if he wasn't focused on the stock-based sou-
... oy. Why the fuck is Esikko glomping him like some grade-school kid? A tall as fuck grade-school kid. Luckily he wasn't carrying anything hot or sharp, dammit! Bakugo glares over his shoulder, lip quivering in a warning snarl. But... tch, he lets him have it for a little while. Just a little while.]
( Like this, the floral scent of his blood is a lot less overwhelming by now. Still faintly there, ever present, but no longer coating every inch of the air around Esikko. So he doesn't feel too bad about being close like this, now that he smells more like the faint scent of his fancy soaps and shampoos. But, he doesn't push it too far. A little while, that's all he wanted anyway, and then he's slipping away with a hum of thought at that suggestion. )
I feel sick, though.
( It's true, but of course he's going to try to eat. He knows that it should help with that feeling, too...
And so he heads to peer at what's been made, eyes scanning quietly over the food for a long moment before, out of nowhere, he asks: )
[Was it bad Bakugo thought he was rooting around in a potpourri bowl while digging those branches out of Esikko's back? Mixing expected copper with a rush of overpowering floral and gory visuals was enough to make his stomach confused. At least Esikko's dampened down to clean shower and shampoo for now, clashing with the savory scents filling the kitchen.
Bacon will fight flowers all day.
Bakugo himself isn't very clean right now. He's washed his arms, face, and neck before doing any food work, but his front's splattered and soaked. Good thing Esikko's hugging his back.]
Then take it slow.
[Feeling sick isn't a promise of being sick. Bakugo lets Esikko look over the food on the stovetop, taking the time to grab a plate from the cabinet.]
I'll think about it.
[Living off someone else's graces bothers his pride, but he also opened his suite to others during the swapped month.]
Until I was lifted to this position by someone else, I'd spend a lot of time using rooms from others on these levels.
( Quietly, he serves himself a tiny amount, trying to be modest so less goes to waste. That's not a habit picked up in the palace at all, of course— but one he had to adapt to when out on the road, on the run. He hasn't even realized it's carried over to this place. )
I don't use the kitchen, either, other than to heat certain ingredients for my potions... So if you do decide it, there's a room for you and space in the common areas like that.
( He sits at the table with a quiet little sigh from the effort of it all, but does immediately try to start eating. Slowly... It helps that Bakugo made it tasty. )
[He'll reach a top rank on his own, even if he has to put himself out of his comfort zone a million times. This fucking place isn't going to break him down. He'll do it on his own terms, at his own pace, with people he wants to, without the shitty House's influence! Then he'll use his power to give it a blazing middle finger.
Kind of like what Esikko is doing right now, but Bakugo's got pride issues.
He ladles a little bowl of soup out for the prince, letting him cut himself a piece of the false roast. Despite being mostly potatoes, it cuts firm enough as if it's a solid piece. Even if Esikko's only taking a small slice of the butt. Luckily Bakugo thinks the man's taking measured portions so he can gauge if he's gonna puke or not.
But he needs the food regardless.]
I'm gonna rank down.
[It comes out quiet and curt. He's only talked to one other person about his decision when it comes to ranks. Most people don't speak about it and he figures there's a reason for that. But considering the conversations he's had about ranks and suits over the past several months, Bakugo's theorized a gamble's worth it.]
( For an oddly long moment, Esikko is quiet at that. Bakugo doesn't know about the puzzle that the House sent him, about the agreement he was forced to make in order to keep this fancy title— he can't tell anyone about how he got to this point, even though he wasn't the one to put in the downgrade in the first place. It had registered as such, answered as such, and granted him a path...
And he has to think about how to best word this so that Bakugo can get the hint without it being explicit, without it risking his own standing. So after a couple of mouthfuls of roast and stew, he speaks. )
That's a good idea. A test like that... you should let those you trust know. A handful of them, at least, if you have that many.
( Blatant encouragement, seemingly baseless, and the suggestion to spread knowledge of what he's about to do before he does it. It would still work the same, right? So long as he doesn't mention it retroactively... )
But my offer will stay the same. I'm the one indebted to you, anyway. And I don't enjoy that feeling.
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Date: 1/14/25 04:54 (UTC)Ngh.
( What was he saying? That voice. Awake?
Esikko tries to open his eyes, blearily staring across the tile into the rest of the suite. He hurts, he still hurts, but it's almost numb right now, like his body has forgotten the pain. Forgotten, like everything else is threatening to be, but a harsh wince draws back piece by piece, grasping onto them with desperation. Bakugo, it's Bakugo. He called him here. )
It's cold...
( It's nearly whispered, with how weak it comes out, but it's an attempt all the same. It's cold, not just from the blood loss, not just from his blood being so icy to the touch, but everything, everywhere, always— and it feels too pathetic, to be lying here like this, to be making someone do this so that he can squeeze out even more life than he's already had, but he doesn't want to die. Even at the times when he feels the most useless, the most pathetic, that feeling doesn't leave him. He doesn't want to die.
His eyes shut again, tighter, and he slides his palm closer to his face to block them as he tries to steady his emotions. )
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Date: 1/14/25 19:35 (UTC)Of course it's cold! You're bleeding out. [And the prince is normally an ice box. His rough voice carries what seems to be little sympathy, but Bakugo's hardened his heart in exchange for doing the wretched deed. Esikko promised him this was the way to save his life. So he better fucking have meant it! He has no intention of explaining to everyone the prince is friends with that he killed Esikko trying to help him. Bastard turned down his offer (demand) to go to the medical wing.
Is this how the prince managed his resets? Tearing himself out until there's nothing left but some kind of seed? How fucking long is this going to last? How much blood does he have left in his body?]
Dammit, you better show some improvements or I'm gonna get a fucking shovel! [Covering up concern with anger.] You said this would help, so help!
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Date: 1/15/25 06:07 (UTC)It's... it's helping. But— ( Speaking feels hard. The words come slow, the energy to find the air for each word is painful on his chest, on weak lungs and heart, but he pushes stubbornly past that. ) Clear... as much as you can, then stop the bleeding.
I have medication, I made, after that. It's in the kitchen. I have to drink it. ( His body shakes a little with the next breath in, holding it there as his fingers curl tight once more. ) To hold it back, a little.
( Obviously it's no cure. But he's working on it. He's... trying to work on it, anyway. Alternating between trying and not. Softly, quietly, ashamed, he adds on: ) I'm sorry.
( He breathes in, too slow and not deep enough and shaky, but it's still there, he's still alive. Thanks to Bakugo. ) I didn't know who to call.
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Date: 1/16/25 03:53 (UTC)Stop the bleeding with what? [His entire back's essentially torn open! He doesn't have a fucking new layer of back skin to slap over his exposed core and start suturing it up! A few sparks pop and snap over one hand, frying the blood on his palm and fingers. There's cauterizing the entire site, but in Esikko's state, the shock and pain would probably stop his heart. Without any other option, he presses the towel against his back and leaves it there.]
I'm getting the medicine. Stay alive even if you have to bite your fucking hand. [With that, Bakugo pushes up to his feet and heads for the kitchen. No, he doesn't expect a cure or he wouldn't be here doing this shit. Swiping the medicine from the counter, the hero pivots on his foot and returns to Esikko's side.]
Apologize if you fail. Not now. [Not when he's alive and stubbornly staying so.] You need to drink this or cut it with some water first?
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Date: 1/16/25 04:56 (UTC)Water, too. Ugh— gauze, there should be some...
( It's hard to form sentences fully, and so Esikko trails off there, struggling to find the words before he eventually just points with a tired, bloodied hand. With the bandages, and the first aid kits, he's crammed enough gauze into them to cover wounds this large. It's all he can think to cover it and bandage it, as that's what he's always done before...
Everything feels fuzzy. The longer he looks at Bakugo, the more he feels like he can see someone else, various others with different expressions and different emotions that go with it. Words that aren't Bakugo's are sounding louder, and he presses his palm to his own temple, grunting out. )
You're going to stay, right? ( It's muttered, distracted, and potentially even when Bakugo is busy trying to retrieve the bandages. He can't tell. )
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Date: 1/16/25 17:00 (UTC)Swallow.
[No spills. He's not wasting any of this if it means Esikko lives. Drinking in this position is shit, but he can't roll the man onto his back either. They're going it fast and small. Bottle to the lips, pour, part, swallow, repeat. Any drops managing to escape end up caught in Bakugo's palm. He'll make Esikko lick those off at the end if he has to. Don't bitch at his hospice manners! 100% medicine completion or nothing!
He's less thorough with the water, not minding if Esikko spills some. A fucking sink's right over there. Leaving him bloody and panting on the floor feels like a cruelty, but price paid to get the gauze and medication.
Is he going to stay?]
If you're gonna waste your strength asking stupid questions, pass out already, Prince Prick.
[Dumbass. Does he look like someone who'd abandon a person mid-help? Bakugo kneels beside Esikko's body and begins his work. Ointment and antiseptic/bacterial spray coat the wound as quick but thorough as he can. He outlines the injury perimeter with gauze strips, then layers the entire wound with more. Only then does the wrapping begin. Around his ribs, under his torso, out the other side, up his ribs, across his back, and repeat. Keeping the original bandaging in place. Satisfied, he pins the gauze and repeats the entire method with bandages.]
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Date: 1/17/25 04:10 (UTC)( It's mumbled, barely audible, like he's embarrassed. But he doesn't push on that further either way, instead allowing Bakugo to clean and bandage him. He'll find that just shortly after taking that medication, there's a lot less of that excessive bleeding, and no additional branches or blooms seem to sprout up.
He's quiet, even when it hurts. He's used to a moderate amount of pain pretty frequently, honestly, and even if he wasn't, that burst of it at the second breaking of his skin was so bad that everything else feels numb in comparison. The medication, too, helps with some of that. )
I thought I had more time. ( Quietly, he adds it on when Bakugo seems close to finishing the bandages. ) Or I would have been more prepared.
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Date: 1/17/25 21:51 (UTC)Of course it hurts. You'd think by now Esikko would've gone completely numb from blood loss and shock, but apparently cursed existences like to give prolonged suffering for the power in return. He makes sure not to drop Esikko back into the pile of bloody towels, using the moment he has his body lifted to steal the mess out from under him and shove in a few more clean ones from the closet. Then lowers him back down. Bakugo isn't going to risk moving him to the bed.]
When you're better, you're gonna put together a fucking preparation kit and keep it easily accessible. With instructions.
[That's not a suggestion.]
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Date: 1/18/25 09:01 (UTC)How about... ( His head turns against the floor, eyes tiredly opening to search out Bakugo. His words are just as sluggish and weak, but he insists on continuing. ) ..."If found injured, call Bakugo."
( Making a joke in a time like this seems perfect, he thinks. Bakugo's angry yelling is almost nice, right now. Comforting, in a strange way. It's like there's care behind those words, like those angry little outbursts might stand even the slimmest chance at warming his cold body, heart and all. )
Housekeeping will clean everything up, so leave it. I have rabbits. Will you feed them?
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Date: 1/18/25 22:28 (UTC)You're fucking hilarious. [Immediately rejected with a snarl. Does Esikko really need him to counter that blood-lost-hazy stupid humor with blunt logic on how dumb it'd be to make the man wait for help if someone was there to do it instead?!] Focus on breathing and recovering; save your lame jokes for later.
["Later" meaning after he's strong enough to take a pillow to the face for being a dork.]
What am I, a damn maid now?
[Snarling even as he begins cleaning up the absolutely gore-fest the room's become. He deliberately stays close to Esikko, glancing at him regularly as he works, not wanting the man to wake up in a puddle of blood and evidence of his almost death. Bloody towels, gauze and bandages, washcloths, everything.]
You're explaining this shit to me when you recover.
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Date: 1/19/25 05:27 (UTC)( It sounds like agreement, at least, though he's too tired to fully respond. Quietly, he fades into rest, too exhausted to keep himself awake any longer. His new suite is large, but at least it's clean and organized. It's easy to find which room is Esikko's, if he looks around at all, considering it looks very much like how Bakugo had organized it back down in the 2s, just bigger. His journal is laid out on his desk, as usual... That's upstairs, though. Downstairs, there's a room that doesn't look like it suits Esikko at all (dark and minimalist), and a room reserved for his rabbits which seem to be named Order and Chaos.
Esikko's condition stabilizes slowly. Breathing steadies, his heart stops working so hard, and it seems like the bandages are staying in place, even if they will need changing fairly regularly. Right now, they're good.
But Esikko is a poor sleeper, and sleeping on the floor isn't helping. After about an hour or two, there's a soft groan from him on the floor as he wakes up, a little sore and already trying to push himself to sit up. Where's Bakugo now... )
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Date: 1/19/25 07:03 (UTC)Tch, he better have kept his room neat, after all the crap he did to doctor up the little Rank-2 room before. Bakugo has no interest in snooping around. He gathers the bloody towels and fabric, finds the washer and drier, and dumps the entire wad in. Ace suite appliances should be able to handle this load. Detergent, softener, lid down, and turned on.
Finding the rabbits isn't the worst chore, but if Esikko doesn't keep their food in the kitchen fridge, he's gonna have to locate it elsewhere. Done with that, with more or less frustration, he returns to the prince and silently cleans up the floor around him. No bumping or shoving to disturb him means there's going to be a gory outline later, but the rest of the ground is spotless.
What, does Esikko expect him to sit here to do fuck all waiting for him? Within the hour, the entire mess-- sans was the prince is sleeping on --is gone. Bakugo's spent the rest of the time throwing a small meal into the oven via a stoneware pot. Whatever meat he found in Esikko's kitchen, a simple broth and seasoning, some beans and oranges/lemons. After that much blood loss, he's going to need a rush of iron and vitamin C. Anything the guy's got that fits into the category.
It's obviously not done by the time he spots Esikko stirring out the corner of his eye. Bakugo approaches him with a few clean towels, ready to catch him if he looks like he's going to fall, but willing to let him get up on his own if he can.]
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Date: 1/19/25 08:31 (UTC)Esikko manages to stand, even if he's unsteady on his feet. As he lifts a hand, it's clearly a little shaky, from dehydration, or blood loss, or both— but he brings it automatically to his own hair, crusted over with dried blood. The face he makes is nothing short of disgusted, frustration creasing his brow. )
Ugh... I must look terrible. I need a shower...
( Of course his first waking thoughts are like this. Even still, he's taking a few more steps to Bakugo, sluggish and unsteady. )
What... ( Time is it? How long has he been out? He pauses, stopping his steps when he reaches the other. ) Something smells good.
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Date: 1/19/25 21:10 (UTC)Bakugo stands vigil beside Esikko, one arm holding the towels over his forearm, the other free to catch him should he stumble. Unsteady, yes, but the prince rises. Far better than lying on the floor dying in a pool of blood. As Esikko tries to wrangle his fingers through hair matted crisp with blood, Bakugo pulls a face.]
You look like shit.
[Terrible definitely wears Esikko as its picture. On approach, he offers a glass of cool (not cold) water. If Bakugo had more time, he'd've really grossed the prince out by shoving a blending of liver and broccoli down his throat.]
Here. Then go get cleaned up.
[Good, Esikko can walk. He can move his arms. He can hold items. He can talk. Seems his motor skills are all there.]
It's a false roast. [Seasoned potatoes mashed and mixed with the fine-diced remains of what's still edible of Esikko's leftovers, molded into a loaf-shaped and wrapped in a double shell of welcome bacon. A small pot of broth holds the beans and citrus on the stove. No cake for you.]
Scram, before I throw your ass in there myself.
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Date: 1/21/25 03:11 (UTC)Thank you.
( Quietly, he presses the glass back towards Bakugo for him to take. He's had most of it. Any more right away and he feels like he'll be sick, but he can have some after he cleans up.
The way he looks over Bakugo says that he's thinking of something, that he's struggling to come up with the words for something he wants to say. But maybe he should get cleaned, first. Still, he hesitates on the first step towards the bathroom upstairs, eyes flicking back to him. )
This didn't interrupt any plans of yours, right?
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Date: 1/21/25 03:29 (UTC)Yeah, yeah.
[Maybe puking would be a good idea, clear any blood potentially in his stomach or cough up the crap in his lungs. He'll be listening for either. Bakugo sets the glass on the countertop and heads for the cleaning supplies.
A vein throbs on his head the second Esikko stops again to ask ANOTHER stupid question! God dammit, Prince Prick!]
Take care of yourself and don't fret over me! If I didn't wanna be here, I wouldn't!
[There's being considerate, and then obnoxiously considerate! Stop being so damn nice, Esikko is.]
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Date: 1/21/25 03:40 (UTC)It feels unmistakably like things like this aren't meant for people like him. Like he's partaking in something he's not allowed to be, like it's all going to flip over on him at some point and it's going to hurt more than ever before because he allowed himself to lean into it. But despite that lingering fear, he wants to hope... And how long has it been since he's done that?
His lips press together in his thought, but he eventually hums some sort of an acknowledging noise and moves to head upstairs, using the railing. He's managing, even if he's weak. Because he had help, because the medication is working, and because he stubbornly wants to live. Wants to accept these things that he shouldn't be allowed to have. )
I'll be quick.
( A shower, though he knows not to make it as hot as he normally likes it. Don't want to pass out again... The water starts, mercifully without any throwing up, and he busies himself with cleaning up. It's not the first time he's had to clean blood off of himself. )
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Date: 1/21/25 06:52 (UTC)Not entirely keeping to that idea, but hell if he's going to dwell on it. Right now, there are a few people in this goddamn resort Bakugo keeps an eye on and would give a shit if something bad happened to them. Hell no he's not going to say that to any of them! They'll have to use their brains and understand it through his actions. Sheesh.
Doesn't mean he's a nice person. Bakugo turns as Esikko leaves, red eyes narrowing on the other man and boring holes into his back the entire time he walks. Those legs better support him. Those feet better stay balanced. He didn't show up here and rip bloody fucking roots out of Esikko's back just to have the prince die on the goddamn stairs!]
Rush and I'll cram you in the washer. [Aka: don't hurry on his sake. Take care of yourself and make sure you're clean and well before showing your face. And for fuck's sake, don't pass out in the shower or fall out of it or otherwise make him come up there!
... never mind Bakugo staying quiet downstairs with his ears peeled for any aid Esikko might need, while he cleans up the rest of the floor.]
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Date: 1/21/25 07:15 (UTC)But his shower goes without issue, thankfully. He's a little dizzy, a little unsteady, and very hungry, but he manages to pull on some clean sweat pants and a baggy t-shirt— a much plainer outfit than he normally allows himself to be seen in— and makes his way back downstairs.
He looks better now, from that alone. There's a little more color in his face, the blood's all gone, and he was careful to avoid his bandaging in the shower, so there aren't any issues of him bleeding through. His eyes trail for a long moment over the newly cleaned entranceway, and he breathes in slowly as he trudges towards the kitchen, where he assumes he can find Bakugo.
It might make sense for him to go straight for food, and he'll try his best to, but first— first he's going to approach Bakugo, wherever he is, and drape himself obnoxiously over his shoulders. It's a hug. Not a very tight one, because he's worried that even as injured as he is, Bakugo might throw him off, but. Take this wordless hug, punk...
He's not sure if he's ever initiated a hug before, but he's trying his hardest not to think about that right now. )
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Date: 1/22/25 01:22 (UTC)Bakugo pops the lid off the broth and takes a small spoon to its clarified surface. One soft puff of air cools it for a taste test. Tsk, bland as fuck in his opinion. Probably because it's not flaming hot; Esikko doesn't need his guts turning to lava when he's trying to digest something nice. Steam cuts off under lid once more and he crouches down on the balls of his feet, red eyes peering into a lit oven. The roast probably has a few more minutes.
One hand on the stove rim pulls him up, a knee popping for whatever reason, and Bakugo returns to the fridge for a drink. Esikko would probably want hot chocolate, but in his state, he needs as much iron as possible, to help his blood loss, not a shit ton of sugar.
He's just finished taking the roast out of the oven, a dark rusty colored mound of spiraling lines glistening with savory juice amid an aroma of mealy potato and scant spices. Faint hints of "other" wander amid the main scent, contributed by the bits and pieces of Esikko's leftovers sprinkled so nimbly within and now suspended among the mashed starches. He might have made a glaze to go along with this if he wasn't focused on the stock-based sou-
... oy. Why the fuck is Esikko glomping him like some grade-school kid? A tall as fuck grade-school kid. Luckily he wasn't carrying anything hot or sharp, dammit! Bakugo glares over his shoulder, lip quivering in a warning snarl. But... tch, he lets him have it for a little while. Just a little while.]
You need to eat.
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Date: 1/22/25 05:43 (UTC)I feel sick, though.
( It's true, but of course he's going to try to eat. He knows that it should help with that feeling, too...
And so he heads to peer at what's been made, eyes scanning quietly over the food for a long moment before, out of nowhere, he asks: )
Would you like a room here?
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Date: 1/22/25 17:25 (UTC)Bacon will fight flowers all day.
Bakugo himself isn't very clean right now. He's washed his arms, face, and neck before doing any food work, but his front's splattered and soaked. Good thing Esikko's hugging his back.]
Then take it slow.
[Feeling sick isn't a promise of being sick. Bakugo lets Esikko look over the food on the stovetop, taking the time to grab a plate from the cabinet.]
I'll think about it.
[Living off someone else's graces bothers his pride, but he also opened his suite to others during the swapped month.]
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Date: 1/24/25 05:26 (UTC)( Quietly, he serves himself a tiny amount, trying to be modest so less goes to waste. That's not a habit picked up in the palace at all, of course— but one he had to adapt to when out on the road, on the run. He hasn't even realized it's carried over to this place. )
I don't use the kitchen, either, other than to heat certain ingredients for my potions... So if you do decide it, there's a room for you and space in the common areas like that.
( He sits at the table with a quiet little sigh from the effort of it all, but does immediately try to start eating. Slowly... It helps that Bakugo made it tasty. )
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Date: 1/24/25 17:29 (UTC)[He'll reach a top rank on his own, even if he has to put himself out of his comfort zone a million times. This fucking place isn't going to break him down. He'll do it on his own terms, at his own pace, with people he wants to, without the shitty House's influence! Then he'll use his power to give it a blazing middle finger.
Kind of like what Esikko is doing right now, but Bakugo's got pride issues.
He ladles a little bowl of soup out for the prince, letting him cut himself a piece of the false roast. Despite being mostly potatoes, it cuts firm enough as if it's a solid piece. Even if Esikko's only taking a small slice of the butt. Luckily Bakugo thinks the man's taking measured portions so he can gauge if he's gonna puke or not.
But he needs the food regardless.]
I'm gonna rank down.
[It comes out quiet and curt. He's only talked to one other person about his decision when it comes to ranks. Most people don't speak about it and he figures there's a reason for that. But considering the conversations he's had about ranks and suits over the past several months, Bakugo's theorized a gamble's worth it.]
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Date: 1/28/25 05:48 (UTC)And he has to think about how to best word this so that Bakugo can get the hint without it being explicit, without it risking his own standing. So after a couple of mouthfuls of roast and stew, he speaks. )
That's a good idea. A test like that... you should let those you trust know. A handful of them, at least, if you have that many.
( Blatant encouragement, seemingly baseless, and the suggestion to spread knowledge of what he's about to do before he does it. It would still work the same, right? So long as he doesn't mention it retroactively... )
But my offer will stay the same. I'm the one indebted to you, anyway. And I don't enjoy that feeling.
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