[stressed? not entirely. irritated, annoyed, confused, vexed, frustrated? those are more apt. angry at the kaiju for shoving someone else into his memories, as it's not the first time something like this happened. where the hell does their own privacy get some respect, dammit?! but he can't blame denji for what he saw or how he reacted. it wasn't his boyfriend's fault. sitting in his head, getting a front row driver's seat to one of the most traumatic memories in bakugou's life.
as denji draws himself forward, he's left wondering what there is to talk about. what the hell does he say? what can or should he say? the half-devil saw what happened, knows the story and its ending. did he admit to fear, to despair, to sadness? bakugou's not sure he felt any of those things in that moment. everything was a zone, mixing agony with realization with determination over a sea of those other negative emotions. knowing above everything else he had to keep fighting. if he could buy a single second for midoriya to arrive and save as many people as possible, his role as a hero was to fight for that fucking second. and yet, even his angry thoughts now fail to capture the echoing hollow of that moment. when his last thoughts weren't of his parents, his friends, his mentors... just the hero he admired and a childish little regret over not getting his card signed. what a silly final thought.
once denji's resting beside him, he flops his stomach-supported arm to the side, and lets his forearm slap over denji's stomach. not even attempting to caress or massage. simply wanting to have the contact between them. he feels his eyes on him, knows he's looking. is there something to soothe? denji already did the greatest thing he could and saved him from the nightmare's potentially fatal result. it's over. this time. but fuck if he's going back to sleep like this. a mildly-racing his heart, adrenaline still draining from his body, mind going all over with memories and emotive thoughts. denji's presence does exactly what it always does with him: comforts. his boyfriend says he's fine and bakugou's left wondering if he believes it. likely a sentiment mirrored.]
I don't... I don't remember being scared. [he turns his hand, fingers slowly curling in his boyfriend's shirt over his stomach, tips wandering across his skin under thin material. being honest with denji... that's what they said they'd work on, right? that he'd let denji comfort him when he needed it.] I just knew... I had to keep fighting. I couldn't stop... I should've been scared...
no subject
as denji draws himself forward, he's left wondering what there is to talk about. what the hell does he say? what can or should he say? the half-devil saw what happened, knows the story and its ending. did he admit to fear, to despair, to sadness? bakugou's not sure he felt any of those things in that moment. everything was a zone, mixing agony with realization with determination over a sea of those other negative emotions. knowing above everything else he had to keep fighting. if he could buy a single second for midoriya to arrive and save as many people as possible, his role as a hero was to fight for that fucking second. and yet, even his angry thoughts now fail to capture the echoing hollow of that moment. when his last thoughts weren't of his parents, his friends, his mentors... just the hero he admired and a childish little regret over not getting his card signed. what a silly final thought.
once denji's resting beside him, he flops his stomach-supported arm to the side, and lets his forearm slap over denji's stomach. not even attempting to caress or massage. simply wanting to have the contact between them. he feels his eyes on him, knows he's looking. is there something to soothe? denji already did the greatest thing he could and saved him from the nightmare's potentially fatal result. it's over. this time. but fuck if he's going back to sleep like this. a mildly-racing his heart, adrenaline still draining from his body, mind going all over with memories and emotive thoughts. denji's presence does exactly what it always does with him: comforts. his boyfriend says he's fine and bakugou's left wondering if he believes it. likely a sentiment mirrored.]
I don't... I don't remember being scared. [he turns his hand, fingers slowly curling in his boyfriend's shirt over his stomach, tips wandering across his skin under thin material. being honest with denji... that's what they said they'd work on, right? that he'd let denji comfort him when he needed it.] I just knew... I had to keep fighting. I couldn't stop... I should've been scared...