[He's not carrying it. Scott is. Each weighty piece crushing into his head and shoulders. Help afloat because he can't do it himself. All his life, hen never let anyone else do something for him. Slapped away a hand offered to help him out of the river. Slapped away a hand reaching to lift him from the dirty ground. Slapped away a hand wanting to support him on his injured limb. Why... why the hell is he always the one needing help? Is he really that weak? Him?
The next number one hero... he can't even see that dream right now... He can't see All Might's smile...
What would everyone in his class say if they saw him right now? If they knew what he did? Scott's the only one here with him, but he might as well be the vector for everyone Bakugo knew back home. The only other person he's close to in this gods forsaken place who's as much a hero as Bakugo knows. What'll he think? What'll he say? He never wanted to show Scott something as ugly and pathetic as this. Stand tall, be strong, an unbreakable pillar he could rely on for anything...
Doesn't he see the blood on his hands?
Saying those kinds of things to him. His mind lurches for his kind words, scrambling selfish and desperate. How badly he wants to grasp onto them and believe each one. Dropping into his stomach like a catalyst and sending his bowels heaving again in disgust. It's just a fucking excuse... He stares at SCott's face, eyes burning with broken sorrow and rage. Heat building up beneath, spilling out, dripping off his chin.]
Then why does it hurt so much?
[Why does he still feel so guilty? Every action, every word, swarming around him and biting into his flesh, his mind, his soul. As if he did each one, and all he can do is look at them in horror.]
[He finally releases Bakugo's wrist so that he can reach out, grip his cheek in support, but also really get the blonde to look at him. Eyes serious behind those shades, maybe more serious now than Scott's ever been, centered on watery eyes and just how badly affected his friend is. Yeah, he's never seen him cry like this before, but his mind hasn't changed at all. He doesn't view him as weak. Nothing like that even comes close to his mind. He's just worried. And angry.
That anger directed entirely at the casino for doing something like this. Tugging away his control-- his very sense of self to the point that he actually killed someone. A person that probably couldn't even fight back?? He doesn't know all the details still, but they'll get there. This loss of control is so different to the way he can't control his powers, hell, even different to how his suit affects him, but he still understands not acting fully like yourself.]
It hurts because you're still taking responsibility for it, because it still happened. [No point pretending otherwise.] And because you care that much. You're not weak-- can you think of anyone that's able to resist a full suit flare?
[Don't... how many times is he going to think the same word? A gentle grip takes his cheek, tugs his head up, forcing him to lift his eyes and face his own reflection once more. Lips quiver with each struggling breath, hating the sight of himself. He can't even see the person he is, only the things he's done. Flashing through his eyes in a wicked slideshow. No more... Don't show me these things... Unable to stop their progression. Smoke pouring from debris, a huddled dark figure, callous lips moving dismissive words. "Hurt" is such a pathetic word to describe this clawing sensation inside his chest. Fury, agony, sorrow, disgust, loathing. The bitter gall of defeat clinging in his throat.
Something punches through his mouth and his air rushes out in a sputtering sound, as if he wants to start sobbing and barely manages to wrench his own control back before he breaks down again. As if it does him any good, hanging off Scott's hand, face a soaking wreck. What control? What the hell control can he even say he has?
Other kids in his neighborhood initially teased him about having a dangerous Quirk, thinking it might be better suited for villainy. He quickly set their fucking brains straight with proud words and a victorious explosion. His Quirk was his own, his power was his direction, he would never use his Quirk for something shitty like crime or villainy. A petty bully had something to say about it later, each explosion he landed on Midoriya for pissing him off. But even that... nothing... nothing like this... When he turned his own power on someone who couldn't...
... d-dammit-]
I should've been able to... [It sounds so pathetic to say. As if he alone had the strength to do what so many others could. Some proud part of him believed it too. Believed if he kept his mark under control, content, nothing would ever come of it. He was too strong, too smart, to prepared to be so demolished...] I fucking hate myself.
[Something he never thought he'd ever hear himself say. It burns on his lips, disgust twisting in his stomach. Yet he's not looking away from Scott, able to form actual words, somehow finding a way to struggle through everything swirling in his mind as he holds onto his friend's life line. The only thing he has right now.]
[A sharp frown tugs at the corner of his mouth hearing Bakugo's confession. Hearing him admit something like? And combined with the way he looks so disgusted with himself? It's honestly pretty hard to see him like this. However, there's no chance in hell he'd leave him now, abandon him when Bakugo needs help the most. He couldn't call himself a hero, a friend, or anything but a fucking asshole if he did.
If he's always around Bakugo at his high points, he'll be sure be there for his low points. Because he cares, because they're friends. And as friends--]
Stop thinking that way.
[His voice somewhat harsh, the first break of something in Scott's voice other than that comforting patience. While he keeps his hands on Bakugo, he doesn't mince his words or tone.] Things got fucked up and I don't care if you want to cry like this, but don't say shit like that.
[What else should he say about himself? These twisted muddled feelings clawing their way inside him. Everyone around him needs to see him the way he has to see himself. A hero can't help anyone if he's weak. If they sees him as pathetic as he is now, why would anyone believe he can save them? Why would anyone think he can win? Alone, powerless, he'd be nothing but a failure... reinforced each time he fails or messes up or makes a mistake. Regardless if his blame is on the table or off. How can Scott think he'd see himself as anything but disgusting?
This pathetic, violated me... used by some shitty thing like a fucking puppet-!
How can he do anything other than despise it?
Quiet seethes hiss between his teeth as he buries his fingers into his hair, squeezing his bangs in jagged tufts between each digit. Stop thinking that way. Then what way is he supposed to think? Nothing about this is fine. He can't accept any of this! Scott's shoulders bear the burden of being a leader. Of being a hero. Leading. Saving.
Of course he'd know what this feels like... when he couldn't save his brother...]
What the hell... I'm not crying-!
[Somehow Scott's harder voice strikes flint, spending a spark flaring into the darkness. A flicker of anger, defensive pride, irritation. A spark of life.]
[Is this really the right way to go about things? Maybe not, but it's what Scott is doing anyway, his grip tightening ever so much on Bakugo so that he can keep on focusing on him and hopefully stop him from clawing at his own hair. He saw that slight spark of anger from Bakugo, that familiar pride, and it's more than welcome at a time like this and he wants to keep bringing it up. Nourish it in some way.
Even if Bakugo ends up punching him.
He'd rather have Bakugo angry, ready to fight him, rather than have him continue being like this. He'll brunt that defensiveness from him. So, his voice continues to carry that sharper tone, not really looking down, but still more blunt.]
You've been crying in front of me as I've been sitting and watching you tell yourself that you're weak. [...] Is that the sort of impression that you want to leave with me? Someone that just cries and let things be?
[for all his shattered pride and wrecked feelings, there's enough of it there to prompt instinct. his uninjured arm drops from his hair, furiously scrubbing his fist and forearm across his eyes as if he could wipe his damn tear ducts off out of existence. idiot... don't point shit out like that! it won't stop... fuck, why won't it stop? he feels them rolling down his face, dripping on his jaw and chin, bleeding water from a wound which won't fucking clot!
kuso! tears of rage, of sorrow, hating himself even more for breaking down like this in front of someone he never wanted to appear as anything other than strong and reliable. as much as he hates scott seeing him in such a state, something in his chest continues to flare, hot amid his frigid choking ruins.]
What do you want me to do?! [his hand snaps into scott's shirt, crushing it into his fist as he jerks his head up and stares messy-faced into the mutant's own.] What am I supposed to do?! I can't bring those people back! I can't take back what I said! What I did!
[the sheer helplessness over his own admission threatens to shatter him all over again. he... he cant'- none of that can be undone. these stains on his hand, they're not gonna come off.]
[His other hand soon grips Bakugo's face so that he's gripping him with both hands, the mutant staring hard into his tear filled eyes with an almost unflinching gaze. Still non-judgmental, but firm because Scott thinks he has to be right now. He thinks it's the best way to comfort his friend right now, and bring him out of the depth of his feelings. Because in a way, it almost feels familiar. He's never killed someone, but... he still failed someone important to him.
And he can't bring him back no matter what. No matter how much he shouts or screams, Alex will never come back. He won't see him grow or help him with his powers, he's forever gone. And he wasn't even there to see him. Jean pulled him out of those feelings to help him concentrate on what needed to be done and maybe he can do that for Bakugo. Also be that leader that people expect him to be.
His hands tighten on Bakugo's face.]
You just have to keep fighting, Bakugo. Keep getting better. You can't give up, not now, after you worked so hard to become the number one hero.
[Well working to become that person, but his point still stands.]
...Or are you going to let this place tear you down after everything? Let down everyone that's counting on you still?
[he's trying so damn hard to keep those feelings inside, but those hands on his face, their warmth and support, how the hell can it feel like the only lifeline he has left... and the one thing he doesn't deserve to be touching. don't- heat spills from the corners of his eyes again, squeezed out by a pair of firm eyes he can almost see behind scott's impassive ruby lenses. scott's trying to be impartial, he doesn't want to judge him...
but this crushing guilt and heavy blame... he has to pay for this somehow. fingers curled around a burning coal, mind screaming at him with all logic to let go and put down the agony, but his body instinctively seizes up and keeps clinging to its sizzling surface. how long did it take scott to accept it wasn't his own fault? did he ever?
don't tell me i'm strong... tell me it's my fault for being weak.
pressure grips at his face and he grabs for scott's wrist, torn between wanting to tear his hand away and cling to it.
i don't want to fight anymore
it'd be easier to sink. hands gripping at his shoulders and legs, pulling him backwards towards cold and dark. give up. let go. normally his pride would roar and rage at any attempts to drag him somewhere, but those shattered pieces can barely twitch themselves on the floor.
he worked so hard to become an amazing hero... but setback after humiliating setback got in his way. someone always weaker than him blazed past him, a bunch of idiots kidnapped him like some fucking prize, the person he idolized all his life was crippled and forced into retirement all because he couldn't pull his own weight... and each time he picked himself back up from the mud and filth... scott's encouraging him to do the same right now... but he keeps slipping, landing on his knees in the muck. only kept up by the mutant's hand.]
After what I did... [he lowers his head, unable to face scott at the moment. bangs hanging over his eyes in shadows as heat drips from his chin.] If I let you die...
[it's almost impossible to hear those kind words and believe them. how many times does a hero have to fail before people waver? what if he fails again? when is he going to fail again? what if it's scott next time? fuck-!]
[He knows that all kinds of feelings are still running through Bakugo as he keeps his hands on his face. But that's fine, because despite his blunt words, he's here to support him for as long as he needs it. A hero that's been broken down, but Scott is making sure that he's here to help pick up all those pieces. And he does mean all of them. He's not going to leave a moment sooner, because Bakugo is someone so important to him. He's the only other teen in this place that's really like him, born with a power and dealing with a society that has these mutations. Quirks. Not to mention the whole 'hero' business. Being public.
When it comes to that, perhaps no one else here can understand them. Not fully.
Of course failure hits hard-- and it is usually a pretty bad thing, right? Because if they fail, that means someone probably got hurt, or worse. It's a certain level of stress and responsibility that Scott is aware of, but maybe hasn't fully experienced it yet, not when his team hasn't been out on a mission yet besides Apocalypse. And that was before they officially formed.
But when it comes to a team, he's learned that trust is the most important thing. It has to be earned, yeah, and despite everything he's heard so far from him...]
Without a doubt.
[He'd count on him. Because Scott knows with his entire being that if Bakugo 'lets' him die, it'd be because a whole bunch of shit went down. He doesn't believe for a second that his friend would let that happen even if every bone in his body was broken.]
[jabbing one support under him after another. some of them pierce through his flesh and he slides down as they protrude from behind. some catch despite the pain, sticking in his bone and grit. everything feels so heavy. his body wants to give out and his spirit flickers like a dying sparkler in the wind. but a pair of strong hands continue to cup around each tiny spark, refusing to let the gale take him. blunt words come on a soft breath, telling him to get up, telling him to remember. no matter the pain or burden, scott's refusing to give up on him. cupping his hands under his arms, pulling him onto his back, taking one step forward even as his legs drag behind him.
don't... why are still... so damn stubborn...
each piece gathered in his hands, heedless of their sharp edges breaking the skin on his fingers, ignoring their drips burning into his skin as he places them back one at a time. some fall off and scott picks them back up again. somewhere in there... he manages to get his knees beneath him, clunking and scraping on the muddy ground. there are... there are still people here... he cares about a lot... people who're important to him...
scott knows how this feels, in his own way. chewing himself up inside over his brother's death. unable to be there when it happened. unable to even watch him die. no words of solace or comforting. and yet he had to move forward. he managed to. this boy... is going to be leader someday. a hero in his own world... how can he see it if he's face down in the fucking mud? if the only other person here who can understand, a hero like him, is telling him to get up... is believing in him... is refusing to give up...
his throat dips hard as it drags down a wretched swallow, neck tendons and muscles scraping cable taut beneath his skin. heroes are wrecked by failure. foolish, stupid people. they'd blame themselves for a death they didn't even know about across the city. because it hurts. because their entire lives revolve around helping others. scott knows this. get up...
knuckles crumple on the floor, fingertips digging into his palm. if scott can look at him like this, after hearing everything he did, and still say he'd count on him without a doubt, how the hell can he let this stop him? hands cling at his arms and legs, drying to drag him back even as he pushes himself up in his mind. struggling and quivering under the weight of his guilt and the wounds in his chest. get up... move forward... there's still more you can do.
there are still people counting on him.
broken bones, torn muscles, burn skin, nothing like that had stopped him before. staggering ahead, he trips and stumbles forward, half running, half falling, towards that voice. without a doubt he tightens his hand on scott's, eyes lifting to his face once more. wet and bleary, lips slowly losing their trembling. so many pieces he still has to pick up, wounds to deal with... but his eyes are alive again. resolved to move once more.]
[With this almost all consuming silence, each little pull from Bakugo-- the way he grapples with his own thoughts and feelings, feels so pronounced to him. It makes each clenching struggle almost painful to watch, but he can also see those sparks returning in his friend, the way he nearly pushes himself to get out from the mud and face everything once more. Still beaten down and injured, but not gone yet and a flicker of redness flashes behind his sunglasses-- approval and relief clearly telegraphed.
He of course still remains as before, as vigilant as ever, a solid form that the other can grasp onto, with his own hands warm and gripping. Of the new members of the X-Men team, maybe he understands this the most. Being someone that others can trust and rely on when they're kicked down. Though he didn't see him a lot, Alex was always someone that believed in him-- and the other members on his team didn't really have that.]
I trust you still. I believe in you.
[And that's the full truth. Scott still believes in Bakugo and that he's going to be a great hero. Someone that will risk his life for others and do everything in his power to be a force for good. He thinks that his world would be worse off if he gave up or stopped trying to help. He refuses to let Bakugo feel or think that way. And with this, maybe he can even put those pieces together and find a way to be even stronger, even if there are cracks.
He'll be there along the way.
Scott lowers his head, pressing his forehead against Bakugo's in an almost intimate manner.] We'll pull through this shit together, okay?
[nothing's where it should be. standing on trembling feet amid a bloody pile of his own pride and spirit. pieces shattered by beak reality crashing into his life. even as the waters lap against his body and his muscles don't want to move anymore, someone continues to reach for him. is this how all might felt when all for one escaped despite all his efforts? is this how midoriya felt when he'd been unable to stop his best friend from being captured? the weight of failure and disappointment pushing them down, but knowing they didn't have the luxury or ability to give up.
a hero... a hero shouldn't be content to lose... there are still people who count on him... there are still people he cares about... there are still things he can do... a goal he has to see through... atonement he needs to make...
above him, his bleak blacked sky pierces through, a single crimson star glowing strong within the darkness. his shadow suddenly stands out on the wreckage below, no longer submerged in the mire. that's right. no matter how dark, there is always a light. if they can't it... they have to be it.
he's always had trouble holding onto someone else, hating the idea of relying on another to support him. needing help is the same as admitting he was wrong, he was weak, he was in trouble, he struggled. never let people see anything but the amazing infallible hero he was. scott... scott isn't seeing that hero right now. and he hasn't left. heroes are always the ones who stand strong and help others when they fall... so who helps the heroes when they suffer?
i trust you still. i believe in you. no lie. no fake. a warm head nuzzles against his own, and everything seems to melt around him. muscles digging into themselves in screaming agony he would dare release his grip on these tearing shards. clenching lungs and throat refusing to let go of his bile-laden guilt dragging towards his stomach. a brain which wouldn't shut the hell up with memories and words damning him with accusations and remembrances. cold water over a searing stone.
he goes slack, falling against scott, forehead pressing hard to his as his eyes finally close. not in horror and disgust, but a wary relief accepting it's not all over. standing amid the destruction left by a golden missile to his heart. damaged and broken, but refusing to fall. he trusts scott to hold onto him... for a little bit longer until he's able to walk on his own. for now... whispered into the air between them-]
[He knows that Bakugo isn't the type to really break-- isn't one to let himself look weak in front of others. He really isn't someone that often asks for help either. In a way, he understands, wanting to be a good leader that the other X-Men can rely on, especially since in terms of raw power and control, he lags behind. But. He has been weak before, broke down crying in front of others. Mostly his brother, and Jean.
And he's glad he can be that support for Bakugo in the way they have been for him.
His head still leans against Bakugo's, feeling the way he fully lets himself go-- relying on him now to catch him, which he does without question. It almost feels instinctual in a way. In this darkness with shattered glass and debris around them, he found the person that is far from weak, but still needs him.]
...You're welcome. [...] Not that you need to thank me.
[He wanted to tell himself he was unbreakable. To say he was incorruptible. He was proven wrong. Blood drips from cracks splitting his body into pieces. Darkness seeps beneath the glowing surface of his heart. And yet he stands, shards of his pride gripped in his fingers. Refusing to give up once more. Unable to feel disappointed in himself for needing someone else's help to crawl back from a brink. That comes later. Right now, he needs to regain who he was, so those people still counting on him won't be let down. He can't crumble... not for himself... not for them.
A hero doesn't have the luxury to give up. Scott helped drag his reality back to his mind. Maybe he didn't need to thank him, but what the hell else was he supposed to say? If the mutant hadn't arrived...
He presses the thought away, eyes gazing silently at the ground as he rests his head on Scott's. More than just his head, half fallen into the other teen's arms both physically and emotionally.
When a hero is suffering... who steps in to save them?]
Urusei... [He tightens his fingers on Scott's shoulder, free hand coming up to wipe at his eyes. No more weakness. Not right now.] ...baka yaro...
[With Bakugo leaning more into him, he wraps his arms around the other teen's shoulders in a warm embrace. With just the two of them here, and with his friend needing something like this, he has no qualms giving this kind of comfort-- a further emphasis that he's holding him now. Fuck, honestly, Scott wouldn't care if other people saw him. He's still holding him for as long as he wants and needs.
Though, there's a small upward smile at the corner of his lips as he hears those familiar words from him. A true sign that Bakugo is recovering and he's glad-- maybe even proud in some ways?]
[Arms wind around his shoulders and his own fall to the ground. Boneless and exhausted. He clung to Scott as long as he could and there's little else inside right now. Soaking into his warmth, letting the mutant be his strength for now. Small comfort is still comfort. Foolish to think any of this is resolved or settled. But no longer drowning in his own misery and guilt. Bakugo rests his forehead on Scott's shoulder, too exhausted to do much else. Doesn't even have any tears left to shed. Only aching ducts and a messy body.
But he's no longer lost among his mind. Gripping hard beneath a single crimson star. His chest falls in a low exhale, worn and ragged. Fucking worst day of his shitty life in this stupid place. And he made it through.]
[Most of the area is destroyed, but it shouldn't be hard to pour water for Bakugo. Might be sink water if he doesn't have water bottles around, but since he's in a high ranking suite, Scott's sure that it'll be fine. So he slowly starts to pull away from his friend, though he keeps one hand on his shoulder as he stares directly at him.]
Want to get up? Or did you want to sit for a bit?
[Giving him options right now. But Scott still wants to remain close as much as possible. He knows that things are far from over, but at least they might be on the mend. He'll take that. Later, he'll ask what happened.]
[Scott's gonna have to head for the other rooms in the suite. This main area's completely obliterated. Kitchen, living area, dining room, foyer. Nothing survived enough to work. He made sure of that in his self-destructive rampage. Bakugo's arm slides away from Scott as the mutant leans back, hand hitting the floor in a boneless thud. Barely feels anything, his skin and digits raw from his explosive agony earlier.
Getting up... sounds like a fucking herculean effort right now. Yet he forces his hand to curl, knuckles crunching on the floor in a fist. Yeah, he can't stay collapsed here like a fucking failure. Muscles bunch under his skin, pushing his fist into the ground-]
Ngk! [Pain! Searing hurt races through his arm, stupidly trying to put the pressure on his right arm after he nuked the entire upper half. His elbow buckles with his wrist and only Scott's hand on his shoulder prevents Bakugo from collapsing onto his side.] Fffuck!
[The word comes out almost harsh, but filled with concern as he immediately grabs his wrist once more. Grip firm, as if making sure that the other teen won't try to pull away or smack it against the ground again, but also making sure that he doesn't bring pain to him by gripping right on the injury. It's not like he's forgotten about the wound, but it's more serious than what he initially imagined and as such, the mutant switches gears.]
Actually, maybe it would be best to just get you to the Broken Wing.
[It sounds like less of a suggestion now. His tone almost commanding. Unless Bakugo is completely against it, or has something in the suite that can tend to it, but it's not like Scott's handled burn injuries before. He'd vastly prefer to get Bakugo the treatment from the staff here-- they can at least do their job without being too weird about it. Scott will ensure it.]
[Any bristling and seething between his teeth isn't directed at Scott, but purely lancing into himself. His injuries from the fight earlier couple with the one he tormented himself with, shoving another rush of loathing at his own weakness and failure. His fucking bones won't even do what he orders them to! Fingers snap around his wrist, arresting his instinctive attempt to catch himself again. Leaning against Scott, his breath slowly tapers from pained hisses to angry silence.]
I don't want to see... a single fucking piece of this shithole!
[After what it did to him, what it put him through, what he's still bleeding and suffering for, if Bakugo sees anything outside his own nuked and scorched walls, he's going to erupt all over again. The only reason he's stomaching this right now is because he's obliterated everything. No more glittering gold, no more peacock-given rewards, nothing this wretched monstrosity of a creature can lay in front of him and show its sickening slobbering grin!]
I've got a medical kit in the bathroom.
[His knee scrapes across the ground, doggedly getting his foot beneath himself. But even attempting to put pressure on it threatens to break his limb (at least it feels that way). He'll collapse if he tries to stand. Pretty sure half of this is psychosomatic, but fighting anything mentally right now is impossible.
[Scott doesn't fully like it, he'd still vastly prefer if Bakugo got tended to by a professional, but... he can see how much he really doesn't want to go to the staff right now. And well, Bakugo's continued anguish is convincing enough that the mutant does switch gears, him nodding with that firm mouth still intact. He can at least trust himself to do a decent enough job to stem the injury from getting worse and bandage him up. And well, he can probably still ask Bakugo for advice, he's sure this isn't the first time he's suffered from his own powers.
Ironically, that's something Scott can't fully relate to. He's immune to his own powers. But. That's something else entirely. Right now, he plans on guiding Bakugo to the bathroom, since that's where the medical kit is at. His focus is still entirely on his friend and that won't change.]
Then we'll go there.
[He verbally amends, voice clear. Scott slowly starts rising himself, pulling one arm around his shoulder, although he stops midway when he notices how much the other teen is struggling still. Could be actual pain, could be Bakugo not being able to mentally engage still, but either way, Scott figures to offer something without a hint of judgement.]
I can carry you there. It'll be easier, honestly, avoid the glass and shit on the ground from digging into you more.
[Don't. Don't take him outside that door right now. As sick as his stomach is over what just happened, what he remembers and the nightmare he woke up from, he has no fucking idea how much of that disgusting ichor still clings to his mind and body. What could trigger it and set him off all over again. He can't risk another person's blood on his hands. Not like this. It would break him completely. Who the hell would Scott find himself looking at? Bakugo doesn't even know, doesn't want to think about it. A monster walking from the medical wing...
If it means suturing his own fucking skin onto his body to keep himself locked away from anymore innocent people, he'll tear his own flesh to make a bandage.
Later, they can talk about whether Bakugo's hurt himself in the past with his Quirk. (Surprising answer is not really. Took a few tumbles, but his remarkable skill and intelligence means he got the gist quickly.) But deliberately injuring himself with it...
Bones knock hollows and wet as he tries pushing himself up once more, attempting to follow Scott to his feet. But everything snaps once more, injury and weakness dropping him back to his shins in a similar ragdoll flop. He doesn't know if it's physical or mental either, probably both, yet his body refuses to listen to him. Scott offers to carry him... any other time, he'd bite his head off for daring to insult him.
[With that permission, Scott wraps one arm underneath his knees and the other around his shoulders, hefting his friend into his arms with just a small amount of struggle. He's still not the strongest physically, but he can push through, especially right now-- tapping into some adrenaline and the need to help his friend. It's always something that's allowed him to shove emotions aside, push him past his normal limits, and so with that, he starts walking past the destroyed room and down the hallway so he can reach the bathroom Bakugo mentioned.
His suite is far bigger than his, than what he's used to seeing, but at least it's come in handy this time. Because despite Bakugo destroying the kitchen and the main room, he still has extra rooms right now to rest in and seclude himself from. He doesn't even have to look at the destruction he caused. It might help.
But he soon walks inside the lavish bathroom, before helping Bakugo down on a bench that should still be comfortable enough to sit on.]
I'm assuming it's in the drawer here?
[He idly asks, as if to fill in some of the silence, opening said cabinet and pulling out the medical kit.]
[Pathetic. Every fucking shred of this is pathetic. Sputtering bursts ignite in his mind and body, trying to jump start his crashed engine, yet he feels little more than nagging irritation with no strength to act on it. Stupid thoughts mumble in his mind, needing someone to carry him, his own limbs failing to answer his demands, his mental voice not strong enough to roar his flesh into action. The world lifts and rushes past his peripheral and his head falls against Scott's shoulder whether he wants it to or not. Swept up in his friend's arms, cared for and safe, taken care of... is this really such a horrible thing to have? Depends on which side of Bakugo's asked.
Arms dangle uselessly on either side, legs tucked over Scott's arm via his knees. Not sure which is more embarrassing, a bridal carry or slung over his shoulders and back like a sack. Scott has to take either of the doors to the side of his main area, both leading into short hallways with doors further down. Yeah, his fury didn't reach beyond his main area, minus vibrations and shock knocking a few things on the other side of his walls.
The bathroom won't take much to find. If Scott bothers to turn on the lights, it'll blind them both for several seconds. But if he chooses to wait, he'll notice some faint lights around the mirror giving the bathroom a small orange glow with their eyes adjusted. Bakugo sinks to the bench like liquid poured out of a cup, leaning on the wall beside him. Freezing cold compared to the sweltering heat of his ruined foreground.]
Aa. Right side. Under the sink counter. [Indeed, a white and blue box, very well stocked with things needed for moderate to even severe injuries. He's had to patch a few people up here...]
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Date: 8/25/25 02:51 (UTC)The next number one hero... he can't even see that dream right now... He can't see All Might's smile...
What would everyone in his class say if they saw him right now? If they knew what he did? Scott's the only one here with him, but he might as well be the vector for everyone Bakugo knew back home. The only other person he's close to in this gods forsaken place who's as much a hero as Bakugo knows. What'll he think? What'll he say? He never wanted to show Scott something as ugly and pathetic as this. Stand tall, be strong, an unbreakable pillar he could rely on for anything...
Doesn't he see the blood on his hands?
Saying those kinds of things to him. His mind lurches for his kind words, scrambling selfish and desperate. How badly he wants to grasp onto them and believe each one. Dropping into his stomach like a catalyst and sending his bowels heaving again in disgust. It's just a fucking excuse... He stares at SCott's face, eyes burning with broken sorrow and rage. Heat building up beneath, spilling out, dripping off his chin.]
Then why does it hurt so much?
[Why does he still feel so guilty? Every action, every word, swarming around him and biting into his flesh, his mind, his soul. As if he did each one, and all he can do is look at them in horror.]
I was too weak, Scott... Dammit-!
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Date: 8/26/25 23:53 (UTC)That anger directed entirely at the casino for doing something like this. Tugging away his control-- his very sense of self to the point that he actually killed someone. A person that probably couldn't even fight back?? He doesn't know all the details still, but they'll get there. This loss of control is so different to the way he can't control his powers, hell, even different to how his suit affects him, but he still understands not acting fully like yourself.]
It hurts because you're still taking responsibility for it, because it still happened. [No point pretending otherwise.] And because you care that much. You're not weak-- can you think of anyone that's able to resist a full suit flare?
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Date: 8/27/25 17:31 (UTC)Something punches through his mouth and his air rushes out in a sputtering sound, as if he wants to start sobbing and barely manages to wrench his own control back before he breaks down again. As if it does him any good, hanging off Scott's hand, face a soaking wreck. What control? What the hell control can he even say he has?
Other kids in his neighborhood initially teased him about having a dangerous Quirk, thinking it might be better suited for villainy. He quickly set their fucking brains straight with proud words and a victorious explosion. His Quirk was his own, his power was his direction, he would never use his Quirk for something shitty like crime or villainy. A petty bully had something to say about it later, each explosion he landed on Midoriya for pissing him off. But even that... nothing... nothing like this... When he turned his own power on someone who couldn't...
... d-dammit-]
I should've been able to... [It sounds so pathetic to say. As if he alone had the strength to do what so many others could. Some proud part of him believed it too. Believed if he kept his mark under control, content, nothing would ever come of it. He was too strong, too smart, to prepared to be so demolished...] I fucking hate myself.
[Something he never thought he'd ever hear himself say. It burns on his lips, disgust twisting in his stomach. Yet he's not looking away from Scott, able to form actual words, somehow finding a way to struggle through everything swirling in his mind as he holds onto his friend's life line. The only thing he has right now.]
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Date: 8/28/25 20:38 (UTC)If he's always around Bakugo at his high points, he'll be sure be there for his low points. Because he cares, because they're friends. And as friends--]
Stop thinking that way.
[His voice somewhat harsh, the first break of something in Scott's voice other than that comforting patience. While he keeps his hands on Bakugo, he doesn't mince his words or tone.] Things got fucked up and I don't care if you want to cry like this, but don't say shit like that.
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Date: 8/28/25 21:05 (UTC)This pathetic, violated me... used by some shitty thing like a fucking puppet-!
How can he do anything other than despise it?
Quiet seethes hiss between his teeth as he buries his fingers into his hair, squeezing his bangs in jagged tufts between each digit. Stop thinking that way. Then what way is he supposed to think? Nothing about this is fine. He can't accept any of this! Scott's shoulders bear the burden of being a leader. Of being a hero. Leading. Saving.
Of course he'd know what this feels like... when he couldn't save his brother...]
What the hell... I'm not crying-!
[Somehow Scott's harder voice strikes flint, spending a spark flaring into the darkness. A flicker of anger, defensive pride, irritation. A spark of life.]
You'd hate your own weakness too...
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Date: 8/31/25 20:29 (UTC)[Is this really the right way to go about things? Maybe not, but it's what Scott is doing anyway, his grip tightening ever so much on Bakugo so that he can keep on focusing on him and hopefully stop him from clawing at his own hair. He saw that slight spark of anger from Bakugo, that familiar pride, and it's more than welcome at a time like this and he wants to keep bringing it up. Nourish it in some way.
Even if Bakugo ends up punching him.
He'd rather have Bakugo angry, ready to fight him, rather than have him continue being like this. He'll brunt that defensiveness from him. So, his voice continues to carry that sharper tone, not really looking down, but still more blunt.]
You've been crying in front of me as I've been sitting and watching you tell yourself that you're weak. [...] Is that the sort of impression that you want to leave with me? Someone that just cries and let things be?
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Date: 8/31/25 23:46 (UTC)[for all his shattered pride and wrecked feelings, there's enough of it there to prompt instinct. his uninjured arm drops from his hair, furiously scrubbing his fist and forearm across his eyes as if he could wipe his damn tear ducts off out of existence. idiot... don't point shit out like that! it won't stop... fuck, why won't it stop? he feels them rolling down his face, dripping on his jaw and chin, bleeding water from a wound which won't fucking clot!
kuso! tears of rage, of sorrow, hating himself even more for breaking down like this in front of someone he never wanted to appear as anything other than strong and reliable. as much as he hates scott seeing him in such a state, something in his chest continues to flare, hot amid his frigid choking ruins.]
What do you want me to do?! [his hand snaps into scott's shirt, crushing it into his fist as he jerks his head up and stares messy-faced into the mutant's own.] What am I supposed to do?! I can't bring those people back! I can't take back what I said! What I did!
[the sheer helplessness over his own admission threatens to shatter him all over again. he... he cant'- none of that can be undone. these stains on his hand, they're not gonna come off.]
I don't know what to do...
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Date: 9/2/25 22:24 (UTC)And he can't bring him back no matter what. No matter how much he shouts or screams, Alex will never come back. He won't see him grow or help him with his powers, he's forever gone. And he wasn't even there to see him. Jean pulled him out of those feelings to help him concentrate on what needed to be done and maybe he can do that for Bakugo. Also be that leader that people expect him to be.
His hands tighten on Bakugo's face.]
You just have to keep fighting, Bakugo. Keep getting better. You can't give up, not now, after you worked so hard to become the number one hero.
[Well working to become that person, but his point still stands.]
...Or are you going to let this place tear you down after everything? Let down everyone that's counting on you still?
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Date: 9/3/25 12:45 (UTC)but this crushing guilt and heavy blame... he has to pay for this somehow. fingers curled around a burning coal, mind screaming at him with all logic to let go and put down the agony, but his body instinctively seizes up and keeps clinging to its sizzling surface. how long did it take scott to accept it wasn't his own fault? did he ever?
don't tell me i'm strong... tell me it's my fault for being weak.
pressure grips at his face and he grabs for scott's wrist, torn between wanting to tear his hand away and cling to it.
i don't want to fight anymore
it'd be easier to sink. hands gripping at his shoulders and legs, pulling him backwards towards cold and dark. give up. let go. normally his pride would roar and rage at any attempts to drag him somewhere, but those shattered pieces can barely twitch themselves on the floor.
he worked so hard to become an amazing hero... but setback after humiliating setback got in his way. someone always weaker than him blazed past him, a bunch of idiots kidnapped him like some fucking prize, the person he idolized all his life was crippled and forced into retirement all because he couldn't pull his own weight... and each time he picked himself back up from the mud and filth... scott's encouraging him to do the same right now... but he keeps slipping, landing on his knees in the muck. only kept up by the mutant's hand.]
After what I did... [he lowers his head, unable to face scott at the moment. bangs hanging over his eyes in shadows as heat drips from his chin.] If I let you die...
[it's almost impossible to hear those kind words and believe them. how many times does a hero have to fail before people waver? what if he fails again? when is he going to fail again? what if it's scott next time? fuck-!]
Would you still count on me?
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Date: 9/4/25 02:07 (UTC)When it comes to that, perhaps no one else here can understand them. Not fully.
Of course failure hits hard-- and it is usually a pretty bad thing, right? Because if they fail, that means someone probably got hurt, or worse. It's a certain level of stress and responsibility that Scott is aware of, but maybe hasn't fully experienced it yet, not when his team hasn't been out on a mission yet besides Apocalypse. And that was before they officially formed.
But when it comes to a team, he's learned that trust is the most important thing. It has to be earned, yeah, and despite everything he's heard so far from him...]
Without a doubt.
[He'd count on him. Because Scott knows with his entire being that if Bakugo 'lets' him die, it'd be because a whole bunch of shit went down. He doesn't believe for a second that his friend would let that happen even if every bone in his body was broken.]
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Date: 9/4/25 18:55 (UTC)don't... why are still... so damn stubborn...
each piece gathered in his hands, heedless of their sharp edges breaking the skin on his fingers, ignoring their drips burning into his skin as he places them back one at a time. some fall off and scott picks them back up again. somewhere in there... he manages to get his knees beneath him, clunking and scraping on the muddy ground. there are... there are still people here... he cares about a lot... people who're important to him...
scott knows how this feels, in his own way. chewing himself up inside over his brother's death. unable to be there when it happened. unable to even watch him die. no words of solace or comforting. and yet he had to move forward. he managed to. this boy... is going to be leader someday. a hero in his own world... how can he see it if he's face down in the fucking mud? if the only other person here who can understand, a hero like him, is telling him to get up... is believing in him... is refusing to give up...
his throat dips hard as it drags down a wretched swallow, neck tendons and muscles scraping cable taut beneath his skin. heroes are wrecked by failure. foolish, stupid people. they'd blame themselves for a death they didn't even know about across the city. because it hurts. because their entire lives revolve around helping others. scott knows this. get up...
knuckles crumple on the floor, fingertips digging into his palm. if scott can look at him like this, after hearing everything he did, and still say he'd count on him without a doubt, how the hell can he let this stop him? hands cling at his arms and legs, drying to drag him back even as he pushes himself up in his mind. struggling and quivering under the weight of his guilt and the wounds in his chest. get up... move forward... there's still more you can do.
there are still people counting on him.
broken bones, torn muscles, burn skin, nothing like that had stopped him before. staggering ahead, he trips and stumbles forward, half running, half falling, towards that voice. without a doubt he tightens his hand on scott's, eyes lifting to his face once more. wet and bleary, lips slowly losing their trembling. so many pieces he still has to pick up, wounds to deal with... but his eyes are alive again. resolved to move once more.]
Scott...
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Date: 9/5/25 17:52 (UTC)He of course still remains as before, as vigilant as ever, a solid form that the other can grasp onto, with his own hands warm and gripping. Of the new members of the X-Men team, maybe he understands this the most. Being someone that others can trust and rely on when they're kicked down. Though he didn't see him a lot, Alex was always someone that believed in him-- and the other members on his team didn't really have that.]
I trust you still. I believe in you.
[And that's the full truth. Scott still believes in Bakugo and that he's going to be a great hero. Someone that will risk his life for others and do everything in his power to be a force for good. He thinks that his world would be worse off if he gave up or stopped trying to help. He refuses to let Bakugo feel or think that way. And with this, maybe he can even put those pieces together and find a way to be even stronger, even if there are cracks.
He'll be there along the way.
Scott lowers his head, pressing his forehead against Bakugo's in an almost intimate manner.] We'll pull through this shit together, okay?
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Date: 9/6/25 20:55 (UTC)a hero... a hero shouldn't be content to lose... there are still people who count on him... there are still people he cares about... there are still things he can do... a goal he has to see through... atonement he needs to make...
above him, his bleak blacked sky pierces through, a single crimson star glowing strong within the darkness. his shadow suddenly stands out on the wreckage below, no longer submerged in the mire. that's right. no matter how dark, there is always a light. if they can't it... they have to be it.
he's always had trouble holding onto someone else, hating the idea of relying on another to support him. needing help is the same as admitting he was wrong, he was weak, he was in trouble, he struggled. never let people see anything but the amazing infallible hero he was. scott... scott isn't seeing that hero right now. and he hasn't left. heroes are always the ones who stand strong and help others when they fall... so who helps the heroes when they suffer?
i trust you still. i believe in you. no lie. no fake. a warm head nuzzles against his own, and everything seems to melt around him. muscles digging into themselves in screaming agony he would dare release his grip on these tearing shards. clenching lungs and throat refusing to let go of his bile-laden guilt dragging towards his stomach. a brain which wouldn't shut the hell up with memories and words damning him with accusations and remembrances. cold water over a searing stone.
he goes slack, falling against scott, forehead pressing hard to his as his eyes finally close. not in horror and disgust, but a wary relief accepting it's not all over. standing amid the destruction left by a golden missile to his heart. damaged and broken, but refusing to fall. he trusts scott to hold onto him... for a little bit longer until he's able to walk on his own. for now... whispered into the air between them-]
... thankyou
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Date: 9/8/25 15:26 (UTC)And he's glad he can be that support for Bakugo in the way they have been for him.
His head still leans against Bakugo's, feeling the way he fully lets himself go-- relying on him now to catch him, which he does without question. It almost feels instinctual in a way. In this darkness with shattered glass and debris around them, he found the person that is far from weak, but still needs him.]
...You're welcome. [...] Not that you need to thank me.
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Date: 9/10/25 02:22 (UTC)A hero doesn't have the luxury to give up. Scott helped drag his reality back to his mind. Maybe he didn't need to thank him, but what the hell else was he supposed to say? If the mutant hadn't arrived...
He presses the thought away, eyes gazing silently at the ground as he rests his head on Scott's. More than just his head, half fallen into the other teen's arms both physically and emotionally.
When a hero is suffering... who steps in to save them?]
Urusei... [He tightens his fingers on Scott's shoulder, free hand coming up to wipe at his eyes. No more weakness. Not right now.] ...baka yaro...
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Date: 9/10/25 15:21 (UTC)Though, there's a small upward smile at the corner of his lips as he hears those familiar words from him. A true sign that Bakugo is recovering and he's glad-- maybe even proud in some ways?]
Calling me an idiot right now? Wow. Dick.
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Date: 9/11/25 03:21 (UTC)But he's no longer lost among his mind. Gripping hard beneath a single crimson star. His chest falls in a low exhale, worn and ragged. Fucking worst day of his shitty life in this stupid place. And he made it through.]
I need a fucking drink.
[His mouth tastes like blood.]
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Date: 9/11/25 20:16 (UTC)[Most of the area is destroyed, but it shouldn't be hard to pour water for Bakugo. Might be sink water if he doesn't have water bottles around, but since he's in a high ranking suite, Scott's sure that it'll be fine. So he slowly starts to pull away from his friend, though he keeps one hand on his shoulder as he stares directly at him.]
Want to get up? Or did you want to sit for a bit?
[Giving him options right now. But Scott still wants to remain close as much as possible. He knows that things are far from over, but at least they might be on the mend. He'll take that. Later, he'll ask what happened.]
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Date: 9/11/25 23:48 (UTC)Getting up... sounds like a fucking herculean effort right now. Yet he forces his hand to curl, knuckles crunching on the floor in a fist. Yeah, he can't stay collapsed here like a fucking failure. Muscles bunch under his skin, pushing his fist into the ground-]
Ngk! [Pain! Searing hurt races through his arm, stupidly trying to put the pressure on his right arm after he nuked the entire upper half. His elbow buckles with his wrist and only Scott's hand on his shoulder prevents Bakugo from collapsing onto his side.] Fffuck!
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Date: 9/13/25 16:48 (UTC)[The word comes out almost harsh, but filled with concern as he immediately grabs his wrist once more. Grip firm, as if making sure that the other teen won't try to pull away or smack it against the ground again, but also making sure that he doesn't bring pain to him by gripping right on the injury. It's not like he's forgotten about the wound, but it's more serious than what he initially imagined and as such, the mutant switches gears.]
Actually, maybe it would be best to just get you to the Broken Wing.
[It sounds like less of a suggestion now. His tone almost commanding. Unless Bakugo is completely against it, or has something in the suite that can tend to it, but it's not like Scott's handled burn injuries before. He'd vastly prefer to get Bakugo the treatment from the staff here-- they can at least do their job without being too weird about it. Scott will ensure it.]
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Date: 9/13/25 20:36 (UTC)[Any bristling and seething between his teeth isn't directed at Scott, but purely lancing into himself. His injuries from the fight earlier couple with the one he tormented himself with, shoving another rush of loathing at his own weakness and failure. His fucking bones won't even do what he orders them to! Fingers snap around his wrist, arresting his instinctive attempt to catch himself again. Leaning against Scott, his breath slowly tapers from pained hisses to angry silence.]
I don't want to see... a single fucking piece of this shithole!
[After what it did to him, what it put him through, what he's still bleeding and suffering for, if Bakugo sees anything outside his own nuked and scorched walls, he's going to erupt all over again. The only reason he's stomaching this right now is because he's obliterated everything. No more glittering gold, no more peacock-given rewards, nothing this wretched monstrosity of a creature can lay in front of him and show its sickening slobbering grin!]
I've got a medical kit in the bathroom.
[His knee scrapes across the ground, doggedly getting his foot beneath himself. But even attempting to put pressure on it threatens to break his limb (at least it feels that way). He'll collapse if he tries to stand. Pretty sure half of this is psychosomatic, but fighting anything mentally right now is impossible.
He has to rely on Scott.]
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Date: 9/15/25 17:10 (UTC)Ironically, that's something Scott can't fully relate to. He's immune to his own powers. But. That's something else entirely. Right now, he plans on guiding Bakugo to the bathroom, since that's where the medical kit is at. His focus is still entirely on his friend and that won't change.]
Then we'll go there.
[He verbally amends, voice clear. Scott slowly starts rising himself, pulling one arm around his shoulder, although he stops midway when he notices how much the other teen is struggling still. Could be actual pain, could be Bakugo not being able to mentally engage still, but either way, Scott figures to offer something without a hint of judgement.]
I can carry you there. It'll be easier, honestly, avoid the glass and shit on the ground from digging into you more.
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Date: 9/16/25 01:14 (UTC)If it means suturing his own fucking skin onto his body to keep himself locked away from anymore innocent people, he'll tear his own flesh to make a bandage.
Later, they can talk about whether Bakugo's hurt himself in the past with his Quirk. (Surprising answer is not really. Took a few tumbles, but his remarkable skill and intelligence means he got the gist quickly.) But deliberately injuring himself with it...
Bones knock hollows and wet as he tries pushing himself up once more, attempting to follow Scott to his feet. But everything snaps once more, injury and weakness dropping him back to his shins in a similar ragdoll flop. He doesn't know if it's physical or mental either, probably both, yet his body refuses to listen to him. Scott offers to carry him... any other time, he'd bite his head off for daring to insult him.
But now...] Fine.
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Date: 9/17/25 20:22 (UTC)His suite is far bigger than his, than what he's used to seeing, but at least it's come in handy this time. Because despite Bakugo destroying the kitchen and the main room, he still has extra rooms right now to rest in and seclude himself from. He doesn't even have to look at the destruction he caused. It might help.
But he soon walks inside the lavish bathroom, before helping Bakugo down on a bench that should still be comfortable enough to sit on.]
I'm assuming it's in the drawer here?
[He idly asks, as if to fill in some of the silence, opening said cabinet and pulling out the medical kit.]
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Date: 9/17/25 22:18 (UTC)Arms dangle uselessly on either side, legs tucked over Scott's arm via his knees. Not sure which is more embarrassing, a bridal carry or slung over his shoulders and back like a sack. Scott has to take either of the doors to the side of his main area, both leading into short hallways with doors further down. Yeah, his fury didn't reach beyond his main area, minus vibrations and shock knocking a few things on the other side of his walls.
The bathroom won't take much to find. If Scott bothers to turn on the lights, it'll blind them both for several seconds. But if he chooses to wait, he'll notice some faint lights around the mirror giving the bathroom a small orange glow with their eyes adjusted. Bakugo sinks to the bench like liquid poured out of a cup, leaning on the wall beside him. Freezing cold compared to the sweltering heat of his ruined foreground.]
Aa. Right side. Under the sink counter. [Indeed, a white and blue box, very well stocked with things needed for moderate to even severe injuries. He's had to patch a few people up here...]
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From:wrapping up soon? :>
From:🎀 good wrap for me! finish it off if ya like~
From: