( is it worth it? does it matter? is it just a report? is it to make up for not saying anything about hawks, the first time? does it matter if tomura is angry with him? does it matter if he isn't? does it matter to tomura if he's out of his goddamn mind here, if he doesn't know what to do?
a report. just a report. just league bullshit. just what he's supposed to do. feelings don't matter. )
endeavor's here.
missing an arm. healthy otherwise.
no sign of any other heroes. no sign of number two, either.
[ of course he's known that anyone can show up here. he should be mindful of it, prepared for it, but he hadn't quite anticipated that a piece of this news would eventually make him sit bolt upright.
he's not worried about endeavor himself. that man hadn't taken anything from them in the same way hawks had, and what's more, the current no. 1 seems hardly like the type that could scheme to do them damage. what makes his heartbeat quicken is dabi. how dabi is taking this. as fuzzy and blurred as his memories are, he remembers enough, he remembers dabi's frenzied battle against the family he'd never once mentioned.
what would dabi want him to say here, do here? should he stay out of it, again, still, like he did always in their original world? in the months they've spent here, have they moved past the point for him to ask, to even be... concerned? he's terrible at this. with something this... personal dredged up, he finds that he can't see where the boundaries lie, the line in the sand washed out by the number of times they've run up against it, walked around it, smeared its impression.
like dipping a toe in the water, he starts small, or at least what he feels is small, and safe. the rest can wait. ]
( fucking coward couldn't even look him in the face any other time, there's no way he'd see him and come running--like always, he had to put himself in front of him, and even then, he couldn't get anywhere. )
the war must still be going. he didn't tell me anything useful.
( it's shaky, a struggle: trying so hard to compartmentalize it. as if it helps. )
[ there's a small lapse in time as he tries to figure what to say, whether he should say anything at all. maybe he should just let it lie, the way dabi wanted in their own world. not to interfere, not to pry. but they're not in their own world now, haven't been for about half a year, and things are different—the rules, the impossibilities, what they can and can't do. even so, it's not without significant doubt, significant awareness that he might just get shot down when he edges closer to that line in the sand. ]
will you tell me what you're thinking or what you want
even here you're my ally so I'll back you, you know whatever you wanna do
[ being stuck in a cage with someone you hate, where no amount of damage would erase their presence? nowhere to go to never see them again? it's the kind of thing that makes him eager to bring the roof down over the heads of the House yet again, and—
it's funny. every inch of him is screaming to do something, to make someone pay for this, and he's just sitting here, tapping away on a holographic keyboard. ]
[ that's what he says, at first. isn't it better for both of them this way, the meaning of it left in the air between them, to be interpreted however dabi wants. tomura still doubts that dabi likes being chased, likes being reachable. that's the opposite of how things always went, isn't it? not answering his phone, going off on his own, pursuing his own goals, that's how dabi liked it—maybe even now—the rest of them relegated to whatever spare room was left over.
tomura had accepted that's how things were going to be, but he doesn't know anymore. does dabi want his attention, or does he hate it even now? even though dabi had always maintained that firm boundary wall between them, it feels like there's something unpleasant and bitter about it, when tomura himself retreats behind it. his fingers hesitate on the keypad, but if he's going to waste time like this, he'd rather get moving instead. second-guessing is worse than useless. ]
( the last time this happened--well, it didn't work out all that great, and that had been mostly due to his own attitude. so why does he feel so hopeful? why does it feel good, to have tomura wanting to come to him again, like this?
he hates leaning on people. doesn't trust anyone. but tomura-- )
promise i won't lay on the floor til you get here.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
text; un: dabi
a report. just a report. just league bullshit. just what he's supposed to do. feelings don't matter. )
endeavor's here.
missing an arm.
healthy otherwise.
no sign of any other heroes.
no sign of number two, either.
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he's not worried about endeavor himself. that man hadn't taken anything from them in the same way hawks had, and what's more, the current no. 1 seems hardly like the type that could scheme to do them damage. what makes his heartbeat quicken is dabi. how dabi is taking this. as fuzzy and blurred as his memories are, he remembers enough, he remembers dabi's frenzied battle against the family he'd never once mentioned.
what would dabi want him to say here, do here? should he stay out of it, again, still, like he did always in their original world? in the months they've spent here, have they moved past the point for him to ask, to even be... concerned? he's terrible at this. with something this... personal dredged up, he finds that he can't see where the boundaries lie, the line in the sand washed out by the number of times they've run up against it, walked around it, smeared its impression.
like dipping a toe in the water, he starts small, or at least what he feels is small, and safe. the rest can wait. ]
did he approach you?
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( fucking coward couldn't even look him in the face any other time, there's no way he'd see him and come running--like always, he had to put himself in front of him, and even then, he couldn't get anywhere. )
the war must still be going.
he didn't tell me anything useful.
( it's shaky, a struggle: trying so hard to compartmentalize it. as if it helps. )
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the last time I saw him should've been around the time you did
his arms were intact
[ he lets that stand for a moment, then, against his instincts, tacks on: ]
you're unhurt?
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do you want me to stay away from him?
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could still hurt him
or at least keep him out of our way.
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as long as you're still around to state your wishes.
[ all bets are off if dabi becomes incapacitated or vanishes. ]
I can't promise anything for his friends or lovers.
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he'll wither and die here before he fucks anyone.
he says it's all assault.
fucking rich, coming from him.
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if he can really die like that, it would make some things easier for us
[ would he still be there once they returned to their own world? ]
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he'll just come back.
i fucking hate this place
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"eve"
there was something about turning to stone
maybe that'd be different than dying normally
if he sticks by his convictions
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will you tell me what you're thinking
or what you want
even here you're my ally so I'll back you, you know
whatever you wanna do
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don't know what i think. i can't think. it doesnt make sense
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I think I can get that
[ being stuck in a cage with someone you hate, where no amount of damage would erase their presence? nowhere to go to never see them again? it's the kind of thing that makes him eager to bring the roof down over the heads of the House yet again, and—
it's funny. every inch of him is screaming to do something, to make someone pay for this, and he's just sitting here, tapping away on a holographic keyboard. ]
have you wiped out your minibar yet?
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some idiot is buying rounds at the gilded cage, i'm just taking advantange.
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[ not that it matters what the idiot thinks. tomura would show up anyway. he just wants dabi to know in advance. ]
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she's fucking blasted.
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[ that's what he says, at first. isn't it better for both of them this way, the meaning of it left in the air between them, to be interpreted however dabi wants. tomura still doubts that dabi likes being chased, likes being reachable. that's the opposite of how things always went, isn't it? not answering his phone, going off on his own, pursuing his own goals, that's how dabi liked it—maybe even now—the rest of them relegated to whatever spare room was left over.
tomura had accepted that's how things were going to be, but he doesn't know anymore. does dabi want his attention, or does he hate it even now? even though dabi had always maintained that firm boundary wall between them, it feels like there's something unpleasant and bitter about it, when tomura himself retreats behind it. his fingers hesitate on the keypad, but if he's going to waste time like this, he'd rather get moving instead. second-guessing is worse than useless. ]
just keep your ass in that chair til I get there
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he hates leaning on people. doesn't trust anyone. but tomura-- )
promise i won't lay on the floor til you get here.
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