[ the walls close in, the faces of strangers behind fuzzy memories blurring into a sea of disarray, trapping his senses into a tight cage. it felt like the weight of the world pressing down with each passing second, and he could not breathe. a wave of heat washed over him, sweat beading on his forehead. denji's breath came in shallow gasps, quick and desperate. it's so fucking insane that he could feel the rapid thudding of his heart through his scalp; panic surged through his entire body, hot and electric, and he could feel his vision narrowing, the edges darkening like a camera lens losing focus. the heat turned to a prickling sensation, skin crawling with anxiety. he's- not winning the battle. bakugou was here yet not within reach. he didn't know if he was real at this point or if he's simply losing his fucking mind instead.
did pochita have any leverage since their arrival in neon tokyo? it's unlikely due to lilith refusing to welcome the outsiders into their city without forcing them to comply with their laws, having some control over their abilities, and surely allowing the chainsaw devil to rampage at his own will is not ideal. it didn't mean the devil wouldn't try out of spite. denji is shutting down, it's his cue to come out, and as much as he wanted him to pull on that cord— it all changed when the other boy leaned in, seeking closeness, foreheads pressed. with two hearts as one, hurting bakugou isn't an outcome they both desire. vegas was an awakening; pochita had seen how it messed denji up, and how important their bond was to him. attempting to defy lilith will come in another day, but tonight, denji will have to fight alone.
'but you gotta reach for me' - a softer voice cut through the fog, prompting his brows to furrow, eyes searching bakugou's for clarity that felt impossible to find. he then shook his head, unable to form words, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. he didn't want to hold his hand, not like this, not right now. he's beyond petrified. he didn't trust himself anymore. denji might be a selfish bastard, tossing unrealistic expectations on the boy he loves, expecting him to fix everything, save, protect, and care for him, all while putting the pieces of a damaged soul together for him. happy to let him shoulder all that burden because that's what heroes do; it's their job to win and rescue. even an asshole like him knew when things were bad enough to lose all that unjustified confidence, shaping him into the scared little boy denji had always been.
instead of fighting back, he wanted to run. instead of trying to protect the person he loves, he wanted to hide, cover his ears, muffle the noises, and pretend he was not there anymore. someone like him didn't deserve a normal life or to be loved — makima was right.
bakugou was smart enough to be mindful of the way denji was holding onto his head, reducing the pressure even when blood started pooling underneath his fingernails, knuckles turning white. if it weren't for his partner holding him back, they'd probably sink even deeper. this wasn't his first time attempting self-harm; this had always been his escape, slashing off his own brain. while it did work with the fall devil, breaking out of their emotional manipulation, this time he knew he was doing more damage than good. bakugou ... shouldn't see him like this. when the thought that he's probably causing more distress to someone he promised himself to protect settles in, denji ... stops. slowly, hesitantly, he relaxed his fingers, opting to grab into his hair. not yet brave enough to hold bakugou's — not yet. he's not ready yet. staring at him, eyes wide, like a trapped animal.
'You're my partner. My partner. And I'll never let you go.' — 'I'm right here, Denji. I'm here.'
a single tear escaped, tracing a path down his cheek. more followed, burning and relentless, each one a release of the weight he had been carrying alone. suddenly, he felt the walls around them begin to spin, chest tightened, and he buried his face in his hands, shoulders quivering from the overwhelming emotions and frustration pouring out. he finally broke down, broken — even if he was now healing from the influence of brainwashing; this was no victory. this is another mission that will end with more scars to carry back home. as denji begins to face his harsh reality, all hope of a better day seems impossible and unreachable. ]
... Why am I so weak?! [ he gasped between sobs- the question hung in the air, unanswered. he's hiding again, hunching forward, his face buried and shielded from his partner, and he feels the warmth of his tears seep through his fingers. so so so full of shame, yet pathetic enough to lean into the other's body, desperate for any touch that would keep him grounded before he'd lose it all. ] I keep messing up! I've lost everything! I have nothing and no one to return to! They're all dead! If I lose you ...
no subject
did pochita have any leverage since their arrival in neon tokyo? it's unlikely due to lilith refusing to welcome the outsiders into their city without forcing them to comply with their laws, having some control over their abilities, and surely allowing the chainsaw devil to rampage at his own will is not ideal. it didn't mean the devil wouldn't try out of spite. denji is shutting down, it's his cue to come out, and as much as he wanted him to pull on that cord— it all changed when the other boy leaned in, seeking closeness, foreheads pressed. with two hearts as one, hurting bakugou isn't an outcome they both desire. vegas was an awakening; pochita had seen how it messed denji up, and how important their bond was to him. attempting to defy lilith will come in another day, but tonight, denji will have to fight alone.
'but you gotta reach for me' - a softer voice cut through the fog, prompting his brows to furrow, eyes searching bakugou's for clarity that felt impossible to find. he then shook his head, unable to form words, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. he didn't want to hold his hand, not like this, not right now. he's beyond petrified. he didn't trust himself anymore. denji might be a selfish bastard, tossing unrealistic expectations on the boy he loves, expecting him to fix everything, save, protect, and care for him, all while putting the pieces of a damaged soul together for him. happy to let him shoulder all that burden because that's what heroes do; it's their job to win and rescue. even an asshole like him knew when things were bad enough to lose all that unjustified confidence, shaping him into the scared little boy denji had always been.
instead of fighting back, he wanted to run. instead of trying to protect the person he loves, he wanted to hide, cover his ears, muffle the noises, and pretend he was not there anymore. someone like him didn't deserve a normal life or to be loved — makima was right.
bakugou was smart enough to be mindful of the way denji was holding onto his head, reducing the pressure even when blood started pooling underneath his fingernails, knuckles turning white. if it weren't for his partner holding him back, they'd probably sink even deeper. this wasn't his first time attempting self-harm; this had always been his escape, slashing off his own brain. while it did work with the fall devil, breaking out of their emotional manipulation, this time he knew he was doing more damage than good. bakugou ... shouldn't see him like this. when the thought that he's probably causing more distress to someone he promised himself to protect settles in, denji ... stops. slowly, hesitantly, he relaxed his fingers, opting to grab into his hair. not yet brave enough to hold bakugou's — not yet. he's not ready yet. staring at him, eyes wide, like a trapped animal.
'You're my partner. My partner. And I'll never let you go.' — 'I'm right here, Denji. I'm here.'
a single tear escaped, tracing a path down his cheek. more followed, burning and relentless, each one a release of the weight he had been carrying alone. suddenly, he felt the walls around them begin to spin, chest tightened, and he buried his face in his hands, shoulders quivering from the overwhelming emotions and frustration pouring out. he finally broke down, broken — even if he was now healing from the influence of brainwashing; this was no victory. this is another mission that will end with more scars to carry back home. as denji begins to face his harsh reality, all hope of a better day seems impossible and unreachable. ]
... Why am I so weak?! [ he gasped between sobs- the question hung in the air, unanswered. he's hiding again, hunching forward, his face buried and shielded from his partner, and he feels the warmth of his tears seep through his fingers. so so so full of shame, yet pathetic enough to lean into the other's body, desperate for any touch that would keep him grounded before he'd lose it all. ] I keep messing up! I've lost everything! I have nothing and no one to return to! They're all dead! If I lose you ...
[ ... he didn't need to say it, right? ]