Driven by the thoughts he had forced himself to believe, Katsuki Bakugo finds himself oddly attracted to someone in a way that would demolish his appreciated image. Taunted by his own emotions and questioning the best of his decisions, after encount...
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The Unwanted Moments and Discoveries: Part 2
Jolting up from the bed, I nervously visualised my surroundings after being brusquely spooked by the firing of bullets. The atmosphere was humid, and the temperature which exceeded higher standards converted my sweat into hot capsules. Like a fine, stressed and aggreviated calamity stirring with the unsual tepid snow, an interminable, longing hellfire. Glancing down and at the sheets, Deku silently snored on a pillow beside me without being faltered at my spasmodic reaction. I was terrified, at least, as experiencing the aftermath of a sleep paralysis, leaving me in that state of uneasiness and uncertainty. Despite hearing it so clearly, I wasn't sure if those shots were transpired from real-life or a world of fiction. After all, gun violence was a rare occasion in this region especially after the pledged, oppressive laws; not to mention an infiltration indoors.
A spinal pain trampled my senses, and I remotely caressed the internal injury originating from my nape with a palm. I shifted until I straightfully sat up, and inspected the darkness while adjusting to my initial awareness. There was a chance it wasn't even morning yet, but midnight, which begs the question as to why and where did those gunshots fade in to my ears. It was bizarre since Deku hadn't woken up from the noise, but I did, while sleeping calmly even after detaching my arm from his hold.
When I ran a hand through his forehead and strands of hair, another sequential round of gunfire tormented the enclosed room along with screams. This caught me off guard, and since I had made my auditive acquisition clear in the moments of doubt and transparency, I immediately deserted the bed in search for my clothes.
"Deku! Wake up now!" I shook his shoulder clumsily and in a desperate manner while clenching my shirt. He softly blinked even with the amount of force I impelled him to revive from subconsciousness. Half-lidded and furrowing at me in the thin layer of darkness, he mumbled.
"What's wrong?" Having absolutely no spared time to answer, I tossed him his bundle of garments and dashed to the other side of the bed.
"Gunshots. And they sound like they came from this building." Said this, Deku gasped in fright while grabbing the clothing and also rotating for accommodation. After suiting up my attires, it was my primary reminder to clip around my belt bag and secure the camera inside. My next reminder was the most essential and crucial aspect, and that was to be by Deku's side at all cost during this escapade. Fuck the receptionist, fuck the bill, fuck the unpaid money; we were abandoning this place taking no risks to remain.
Reviewing how Deku's surmounted tribulation made him a cumbersome clod, I helped him regain composure so it'd nullify his nerves. If he was going to succumb to the vague mentioning of a violent plight, not even his vigour would save him from his shredding sanity. When he was finally up and well-steadied, I grappled his arm like my life's biggest duty and snuck to the door cautiously.
Clutching the doorknob, I lended an ear to the surface in case of any openings, any disturbances, or bypassers nearby and at the other side. Feeling Deku's arm quivering on my hand distracted me from processing the silence's cloak, so it ceased to futility. There was nothing I could grasp, no sound from the outer room deeming the scenario's regularity. It was such a hollow scare awaiting for the unexpected, leaning onto the door as if we anticipated the terrors that could be roaming at the other dimension. We were both fearing for the sake of our lives if we carelessly opened it or made a squeaky sound, after all, there was not another alternative exit we could pick apart from the main one. This was the only door, and time would stay quiet for as long as the right and wrong moments instill at the sublime, untelling, containing confidential information prone to avail. When must I turn the knob? Anxiety shared me its overexaggerated hypothesis. I couldn't conceive a word with these thoughts and unreliable mechanism in clarity.
