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[ the feed starts with denji facing the screen. sweat and blood mix on his dirt-smeared skin, streaks that trail from a hidden injury behind the messy curls on his forehead. for anyone who fought by his side, they will know why he's a gory mess. his expression is hard to place— his brows furrowed, jaw clenched tight, but behind it all, there is something quieter, something ... brittle; tracks of dried tears curve through the grime on his cheeks, barely noticeable beneath the mess, but it's there. at least he's somewhat sober and not too out of control? well, on screen. an hour ago, it was a different story-

-hence why a familiar face is sitting next to him, the one who had to deal with that mess and knock some sense into him. his tone is a bit rough, a bit shaky. ]

... Katsuki's gone. [ god. just saying those words ... ] I tried to grab him before he got pulled in, held on for as long as I could ... but I couldn't save him.

And ... [ he glanced over raidou. ] ... Yuji's gone, too.

[ raidou is similarly streaked with blood in places, thanks to trying to calm his hysterical friend. quite the feat when he was on the brink of a freak out himself. instead, he sits near denji, eyes away, glassy and distant. when denji mentions yuji's name, his eyes finally refocus. his voice is a quiet croak.]

... I'm sorry. My theory was incorrect.

[ that's it. raidou will not be responding to any texts the next few days, try as one might. if you want to talk to him, you'll have to come find him.]

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[ ... isn't that their thing, though? it's hard to break old habits.

it's almost merciful, the way the cold, damp rag smears across his face— an excuse to stay quiet, to stall, to breathe. while his friend gently wipes away the grime and blood, denji stays still, not out of obedience, but because he's caught in that strange, aching space between collapsing and pretending he’s fine.

in the end, he didn't say anything. he didn't know what to say ... he didn't know what to do. he felt so helpless.

again. ]

[ Aki wipes, and he wipes, and he wipes, cleaning the muck, the mud, the grime, the blood, able to focus on something other than his broken heart for a few brief moments of respite. Taking care of Denji is so second nature that he barely needs to think about it, barely has to breathe, until there's nothing left but a dirty piece of cloth and Aki himself, his hands shaking.

Slowly, agonisingly slowly, he leans down and wraps his arms around Denji's shoulders, holding him gently. ]

They're okay. I know it.

[ denji doesn’t move at first. his body’s heavy, too drained to do anything more than let the other man clean him up. he hears aki breathing—ragged, uneven, like he’s trying not to fall apart right there on the floor. the arms around him are warm. not the kind of warmth that comes from blood or fever or rage, but the kind that reminds denji of a life he thought he could never have. one with blankets that didn’t smell like mold. one with dinners that weren’t stolen from dumpsters. one where someone stayed and looked after him. even when he ended up in this forgien city, far away from home, aki still found him— and he's taking care of him again.

so denji lifts his arm, shaky and slow, and lets it rest against aki’s back. it’s not a hug, not really, more like a question he doesn’t know how to ask. he hesitates, hoping it wasn't a cruel lie to calm him down. ] ... what do you mean?

Someone felt Tsurumaru's emotions. That means he's alive.

[ Absently, without thinking, Aki strokes his fingers through Denji's hair, staring into the distance. ]

They said he felt sad, and... Confused. Which doesn't make sense. But they felt him, and if he's alive then Bakugo must be too.

[ denji didn’t speak, not right away. he just sat there, quiet, letting aki’s fingers move gently through his hair. he leaned in a little more, like the weight of everything was finally settling in his bones. it wasn’t comfort he felt— at least not fully. it was something heavier, something that pressed into him like the ache after watching bakugou get taken away.

but they were still breathing. and somehow, that had to be enough. ] ... what if they're in trouble?

Then we'll save them.

[ Aki's voice is braver than he thought it would be, given everything, sharp and sure of himself, breathing out a little noise as he swallows. He has to push back his grief and his pain to be here for Denji too, and if that means burrowing it all away...

He can do it. ]

Together? We can do it.

[ and in that moment, denji felt fucking pathetic. watching aki swallow his pain and put on a brave face around him, not because he didn't believe that they could save their loved ones, but because he didn't want to stress denji more. that alone made him feel ashamed of himself, only to be aware that the other outsiders are handling their fears a lot better than he was — yeah, he really needs to pull it together.

he will. in a second, he just needs to cling to aki a little longer .... ]

..... Okay. [ denji sounds a bit better. just a tiny bit. ] We'll save them. But, is it okay to be ... really, really angry about it? I'm tired of this, Aki. I'm tired of losing people I care about ...

[ This is what Aki is more familiar with: putting on a brave face, being strong and stoic when he has to be, hiding his fears and his tears until he can break down in private. It's still difficult, sharing that side of himself with other people, especially Denji, but... It's getting better, over time. He's doing everything he can to be both present and careful, because...

The point was for Denji to be happy. To find happiness. And this place...

Squeezing, he holds onto him a little tighter. ]

It's fucking - [ He grits his teeth. ] It's fucked up. But we can do it, and we can protect them when they're back.

@pochita (video) - May 19

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