( like most things in life, it all goes wrong. he isn't particularly surprised that the conversation turned into a stalemate, or that tomura hadn't been willing to out himself in the group chat; he hadn't thought that would work, or that it would turn into anything but a petty argument, but he hadn't expected it to go so far, or more importantly, to take such offense to one of tomura's pointed comments. amusement is one thing, and their catty arguing is something he almost finds pleasure in, given that both of them usually know where to stop. maybe he pushed too far, though he won't admit it: maybe tomura just knows how to get under his skin better than most people.
unlike you, I don't put my business everywhere.
salt on a wound of his own making, probably. he doesn't even care what the league thinks, doesn't care if they're all wondering now if they're fucking or fighting or some combination of both. it's more that the statement buries down beneath his skin: the whole crux of his own damn existence, at this point, is to do precisely that. tomura doesn't know it yet, but even so: it hurts, somehow, in an unfair way, holding it against tomura even though there's no logical reason for it.
normally he would fuck off for a week, refuse any calls, go out and do his own thing, murder small-time villains who refuse to join 'their cause' just to relieve some tension. no one's been quite brave enough to even ask him anything, except for spinner telling him to cool off and come back when he's ready. he really hates when that guy is right, and he's usually always right when it comes to tomura, so he relents. it's the middle of the night when he comes back: he doesn't take the couch, himiko is crashed on it already and he isn't that much of a heartless bastard. instead, he goes right to tomura's room like he belongs there, knocking on it with his elbow before he opens it without asking. )
Figures you're still awake. ( in a rough whisper, as he comes inside--without asking--and shuts the door behind him. no one needs to hear what they're talking about, for now. if they start yelling, well: then everyone can eavesdrop if they want. ) Make room.
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unlike you, I don't put my business everywhere.
salt on a wound of his own making, probably. he doesn't even care what the league thinks, doesn't care if they're all wondering now if they're fucking or fighting or some combination of both. it's more that the statement buries down beneath his skin: the whole crux of his own damn existence, at this point, is to do precisely that. tomura doesn't know it yet, but even so: it hurts, somehow, in an unfair way, holding it against tomura even though there's no logical reason for it.
normally he would fuck off for a week, refuse any calls, go out and do his own thing, murder small-time villains who refuse to join 'their cause' just to relieve some tension. no one's been quite brave enough to even ask him anything, except for spinner telling him to cool off and come back when he's ready. he really hates when that guy is right, and he's usually always right when it comes to tomura, so he relents. it's the middle of the night when he comes back: he doesn't take the couch, himiko is crashed on it already and he isn't that much of a heartless bastard. instead, he goes right to tomura's room like he belongs there, knocking on it with his elbow before he opens it without asking. )
Figures you're still awake. ( in a rough whisper, as he comes inside--without asking--and shuts the door behind him. no one needs to hear what they're talking about, for now. if they start yelling, well: then everyone can eavesdrop if they want. ) Make room.