aftermath of attack by ____ MYSTERY.
Consciousness fades in and out. He can’t muster the strength to try and pull the knife out of his hand, no matter how hard he tries. He only hopes that he managed to send out an SOS.
…If not, he supposes that would be alright too. It would all be…
..just fine.
He breathes out a shaky breath, his vision swirling again. He doesn’t know how long it’s been. He doesn’t care.
…He closes his eyes again, head resting against the door.
Shigaraki doesn’t really think before he starts running—he just kind of… does. It’s sometimes a good thing, most times a bad thing, but right now, none of that really matters; not after receiving a message as cryptically vague as that one. It’s all so annoying, troublesome, infuriating. Shigaraki hakes the indirect nature of it, wishes people could just tell him things straight-up but— (But that would be too easy.)
When he finally arrives at the destination, his heart is racing and his chest is burning and dear god does he hate the feeling of sweat. He doesn’t bother with any formalities when he throws open the door to the marked location, eyes desperately scanning the dark room. “Deku…?”
Curiosity is what sets Hawks flying toward Deku. He wanted to know what pushed him to send out an SOS-always so independent, secretive, to an annoying extent. The fact that it was just another opportunity to kiss Shigaraki’s ass helped. He landed smooth, eyes flitting around and feathers twitching as he sought out the presence of someone else anywhere near him-catching Shigaraki ahead of him, flinging the door open, running in after him. He feels Deku’s ragged breathing before he sees him, not pausing before running toward him, what happened becoming more clear as he got closer. He was really hurt. Not as invincible as he likes to act.
His gut twisted. Satisfaction. He’d be thinking about this for a while. Hawks turned back to Shigaraki, “He’s over here.”
He can just barely make out the sound of wings. Footsteps. Voices. He lifts his head up, just barely able to lift it all the way, spotting the gleam of Hawks’ eyes in the dark. Even as he teeters on the edge of death, lips weakly curl into a smile.
“This must be … aahahah… a dream come true for you…”
Oh. Oh fuck he does not look good. Shigaraki’s quick to run to the other’s side, chest still heaving from the earlier brunt of his effort as he kneels by Deku to get a closer look at what’s happened. “Stop talking,” he breathily orders, brows knit in slight concern. “Save your energy.” (He can’t tear his gaze away from Deku’s hand. And it’s not because of disgust or revulsion or even just fucking worry. Really, it’s more like Shigaraki can’t feel anything in this moment. But he can’t look away.) He addresses Hawks next, stare still fixed onto Deku’s body. “Doubt we’ll find a fully-fledged first-aid kit here, but see what you can scavenge.”
Shigaraki doesn’t bother asking what’s happened—it’s easy enough to assume, and hearing it spoken aloud will only infuriate him more. And he doesn’t need that right now.
He doesn’t need that right now.
Hawks scoffs. He’s eating it up. Looking at the gleam of the blood running down his arm, his face, his body. Enticing. He wants to touch him. Dig his fingers into the wound. Wonders if he’d be able to touch the bone, maybe, make him scream.
"Still makin’ jokes when you’re half dead, huh…“ Doesn’t matter. Can’t happen. Maybe later. He strips his jacket and shirt off, throwing the shirt to Shigaraki and slinging the jacket back on. "Probably not the most - ah - sterilized thing, but it’ll work for now.” He says, finally tearing his eyes away to look for something else that’d be more helpful. A disinfectant, alcohol, ideally something that’d burn a real hole through your stomach, but he can’t be sure of what the hell Deku has stashed away back here.
A breathy laugh erupts softly from the back of his throat. He looks bad. As he holds his free hand out, it can be seen more clearly. Skin has been pierced so heavily, jagged tooth marks- about half of his pointer finger is literally hanging off of his hand. He ”points” to a drawer on the other side of the room. “Disinfectant….there. And… scissors. Knives.” He looks at his finger- still barely hanging off, because turning his gaze to Shigaraki, offering another smile- softer. Soft. Just for him.
Shigaraki catches the shirt without much thought. “Yeah. It’s a start.” He’s about to press the cloth to Deku’s hand in an attempt to staunch the bleeding, but stops himself at the mention of nearby disinfectant. In all honesty, he has no idea what the fuck he’s doing—no idea how he’s supposed to properly care for the damage that’s been done, no idea if there’s anything he can even really do, really—and so he’s stuck pretending. It’s nothing new for him. Not really. But this time he’s a little more aware of it. He knows that there’s no point in ordering Hawks to go fetch the supplies for him; it’s pretty much a given. And so he uses that as an excuse to keep his attention on Deku, finally tearing his gaze away from the other’s hand to look him in the eyes at the sound of his voice. The gentleness of the other’s expression is one that Shigaraki’s not used to seeing. And given their circumstances, the gentleness makes him feel almost guilty.
“Of course I am. I’ll always be here.”
He lets the words linger, not realizing how sappy they must sound until it’s too late. He means it, of course, but it’s not something he’s ever bothered to actually say out loud. “… For how long did he leave you like this?”
The piece of flesh hanging off of Deku’s finger is disgusting, to say the least. That he was implying that they were going to cut it off was even worse. Hawks would enjoy every second of it. He rushes to the drawer, digging through it to find what he needs, trying to be careful so he doesn’t split his finger on some insanely sharp knife or dip them into some intestines. There’s one bottle in there, something vaguely medical-ish written on it, deciding it’s good enough he sets it on the counter. The knives and scissors and a grand assortment of other sharp… things are in a separate drawer, filled to the brim with shit only Deku would be able to name. He stands there, idly looking through things while he waits for their moment to be over. Just listening. He’d hate to interrupt. And once it is he’s back and dropping into a crouch, setting everything down with a light “Alright,” and expectant look up at Shigaraki and Deku. He has no idea what he’s doing. His usual method is more cover-it-and-go. And he has a feeling that wouldn’t work well with a knife through a hand.
“I’unno…” Deku mumbles barely coherently. He can’t even begin to comprehend the idea of time right now. “Not… long enough for me to die, apparently…ahaha.” He feels his stomach churn when Hawks drops the stuff. “You’re … gonna have to do most of the work….Hawks.” Eyes flick to his. There’s a brief gleam to them- challenging. He looks at Shigaraki. “No offense. Hawks has … more precise movements. Just…hold me.” He wiggles for a moment, trying to prop himself up before pointing to the bandages.
“Take the … knife out. As soon as it’s out, wrap the hand as tight as you can. We’ll deal with that in a second…” Using his disgustingly disfigured but free hand, he weakly pulls some supplies from the pile- grabbing scissors first. “You’re gonna have to … ahahah… cut this off.” His finger hangs. It’s not completely off, but it hangs from a good portion of bone. “After you cut it off, put the disinfectant on the wound. Then wrap it as tight as you can. Save the finger. I’ll… reattach it later.” He takes in a breath, shaky. “
I’m… ready whenever. Heheh.”
Shigaraki’s scowl deepens at Deku’s reply to his question; he’s not quite sure what he had been expecting instead, but the sheer vagueness of everything going on is really starting to take its toll on him. He does feel relieved though when Deku charges Hawks with the brunt of the work. ”Just… hold me.”
“Yeah. I can do that,” he mumbles, shifting his position to better cushion Deku’s body. It isn’t until after the words have left his mouth that Shigaraki realizes that holding him is actually not the easiest job—not with a quirk like his. The result is Shigaraki awkwardly cradling Deku in his arms and there’s no way that it’s comfortable. But then again, he’s sure that his awkwardness is hardly noticed since Deku has a fucking knife protruding out of his hand and an entire finger about to fall off.
Hawks laughs. The look in Deku’s eyes makes the corners of his lips curl up more. “Of course, of course….” He hums back to Shigaraki. “By the looks of it it couldn’t have been too long. Might’ve just missed the bastard. Maybe we should’ve sent someone to go hunting…” One hand braces him against the wall while he stares at the knife, thinking about the process, about what he’ll do, how it’ll look…. “Kill everyone within a few miles if necessary. Just to get rid of them.” He doesn’t warn him before moving his free hand up and pulling the knife straight out, holding Deku’s hand as it falls and grabbing the bandages to wrap it as tight as he can as quickly as he can. No sadistic, unnecessary tricks needed. Knowing how much pain Deku was already in is enough for now.
When he feels the knife comes out he yells and squirms against Shigaraki- and he’s suddenly hyperaware of the throbbing sensation at the center of his palms. His vision swirls again, white flashes clouding his view. He’s suddenly hyperaware of his finger hanging on by so little, knowing that what comes next is going to hurt worst of all.
Tears form in his eyes- he’s not sure if it’s out of fear, or pain, or just… everything. But it’s all too much.
“G..god damn iitt … hahahahahaha… hurry the FUCK up. HURRY UP!” He hisses and kicks Hawks’ leg- not too hard, but hard enough to be still somehow be a brat about it. He glares him down, eyes still filled to the brim with pathetic, delicious tears.
Shigaraki says nothing at Hawks’ late suggestion—he knows that, at this point, Mystery is already long, long gone. But that doesn’t mean the League can’t go on a killing spree later, just to get their frustration out; it just means that there’s no rush. When Deku screams, Shigaraki holds him tighter, as though it’ll somehow help. A pause. And then he finally turns to address Hawks with a cocked head. He just nods.
Oh, Hawks wants to lean in and lick those tears right off his pretty little face. Catch some of his blood on his tongue, maybe… He doesn’t bother to hide the lingering smile, watching Deku struggle and scream and bleed. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. The kick to his leg pulls him out of it, a slight frown taking over. “I’m goin’ as fast as I can, relax…” He says gently, reaching out to take Deku’s other hand, picking up the knife again. “I didn’t wanna leave that in. Could’ve ripped through more of your hand, and I’m sure you would’ve hated that even more so stop bitching and stay still,” He snaps the last bit at him, knowing full well that Deku had a problem staying still as it was, but like this? He doesn’t stand a chance. He worries the inside of his lip as presses the blade to his finger and slowly slices the bit still attached away, eyes flicking up to him quickly returning to make sure he didn’t mangle his finger even more. One adjustment of the knife has to be made before he can completely tear it away. Or maybe he just wanted to draw it out. That one, he could have done much quicker. But once it’s off he holds the fingertip proudly and grins at Deku.
Heavy breaths come from his chest as Deku tries to center himself enough to focus, already feeling like he’s going to vomit.
And even then- no matter how hard he tries, he still can’t prepare himself the pain that shoots up his and and arm when he feels that blade to his skin. He screams again, tears running down his face heavily- vision turning hot white for a moment.
In his head, voices playback like a tape recorder. It feels like a memory, but none of it seems possible.
He recognizes one of the voices as his own.
He doesn’t know the other.
”Do you ever get tired of it? Just… doing this. Constantly. Over and over again.”
“I can’t get tired of it. If I stop moving, who knows what will happen.”
“Whatever you say… just… don’t overwork yourself too much, okay? We only ever have each other…every time.”
“Haha…yeah.”
”I love you.”
”I love you too. No matter what happens.”
He’s pulled back to reality and his own screaming rings in his ears- and before he knows it it’s over, and his finger’s off.
He eyes Hawks, sweating heavily.
Deku seems so distant as Hawks finishes and he’s finally, disappointingly, quiet. He smiles at the dirty look Deku is giving him. "No?” He muses, “Not even a taste?” He brings it closer to his mouth slowly, grin widening, just to get close enough to cause a real sense of dread that he really would get a taste before he laughs and finds a place to set it that wasn’t the dirty ground. He’d hate to have to deal with Deku bitching about an infection. He picks up the disinfectant and quietly warns about how it might sting before he’s pouring it over the exposed flesh, nose crinkling as if this was finally the thing getting to him, quickly getting the bandages to wrap them around the finger as well. It was over in a flash. “Good now?”
He flushes quietly, glaring Hawks down. He knows he’s just teasing him- but at a time like this- all it does is piss him off. When he quietly warns he quietly panics before Hawks is pressing the chemicals to his finger and he cries again, gasping for air as it bubbles and fizzes in his flesh.
Don’t you ever get tired of it?
Yeah.
Just…doing this.
Yeah.
Over and over again.
Yeah.
…
“I’m fine.” He glances to Shigaraki, slight concern in his eyes- only for him. “Hey…you okay, Shiggy?”
For the most part, Shigaraki’s allowed himself to get lost in his own thoughts. The conversation between the other two men momentarily becomes background noise; the relentless back-and-forth, the fucked up banter… it’s something that Shigaraki’s become accustomed to. But this time. Deku was fucking attacked. And by him no less. Was it to prove some kind of point? To egg him on? Or for some other higher purpose that Shigaraki has no way to effectively guess at? Shigaraki has no way of knowing for sure. He doesn’t fucking know anything about Mystery for sure. But evidently it’s time to change that… Now that one of their own has been targeted like this… Right…? (Shigaraki doesn’t like to care about others. But this is different: the League, they’re his.) He’s only pulled from his thoughts at the sound of Deku’s voice. His eyes slide over to meet his, drinking in the way his own disheveled expression is reflected in the other’s eyes. For a moment, he does nothing but stare. And then—
"Yeah. I’m fine. Now let’s get you home.“
romaincrisis
yousharknotpass
turnnoffyourmind
