putting my freak (hopeless romantic) on for the angry confession tbh
confession prompt list + spun a wheel and haven't written for tomura in a while so here we are!!
the second you stepped back on base you knew you were in deep shit. it's like tomura knew you were injured-- either because twice was shouting non-stop about how you got your shit absolutely rocked or he had a sixth sense to sniff out your blood specifically like a fucking bloodhound.
either way, he cornered you. vermillion eyes pinned you in place, a standstill in one of the empty rooms that wasn't being used for something. tomura would try to remember to ask why this room, but it really doesn't matter.
"you're avoiding me," he outright calls you out on it. one lithe finger points at you accusingly and it causes a scowl to form almost immediately on your face.
currently, you have a strip of gauze pulled taut between your gritted teeth, the other side of it being wrapped around your elbow. by now the wounds have stopped bleeding profusely, but they still hurt. there's a sting in your thigh and your head throbs with what feels like a minor concussion.
he doesn't wait for you to respond. he pushes his way further into the room, curling two fingers around the tension in the gauze and tugging hard enough to make you hiss in response. "the hell were you doing that you got your ass handed to you like this?"
you smack at his hand, growling in frustration. "lay off me," you scoot away from him and rework the gauze around your elbow with the same tension from before. you are making it very clear that you are ignoring him.
"no, i don't think i will," he retorts, taking a deliberate step towards you. his shoe lands on the gauze that trails along the floor and stubbornly-- like a child-- he doesn't lift his foot when you tug. "you were being stupid and reckless. this is why i don't send you on jobs without me."
"i'm not a child," you snap, yanking at the fabric trapped under his foot. "i don't need you."
you don't take his bait. he notices, and his foot lifts off of the gauze. it's dirty, but it's the only roll you can find in this place. if the wound on your elbow gets infected there's only so much you can do before your arm becomes useless.
your movements are rigid, stiff-- irritable. the room is tense with things that need to be said but neither of you are willing to toss your hats into the ring just yet.
tomura's always had a strange liking towards you. he prefers you to the others, asks for your opinion more often than not; the two of you have played countless games of hot and cold and eye tag throughout the time since you've joined the league.
and while you care about him-- the word is used loosely because you're not too entirely sure where you feelings stand with him as of late-- his lack of trust that you can handle yourself on these missions has you feeling more than just disrespected. at this point, you both have opened up to each other enough.
he knows what you can handle, you know what he can take.
if he didn't think you could handle this mission-- with twice and toga, no less-- then why did he send you in the first place? it wasn't a particularly hard job, no; it wasn't difficult at all-- you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
tomura always got that strange itch in the back of his head whenever you went out on jobs without him. he liked keeping you in his line of sight-- within reach. where he could watch you use your full potential, but easily take control of the situation if it went south.
tomura realized a little too late that his fear of losing you was misplaced with anger.
he watches as you finish wrapping the wound on your elbow before moving to the gash on your thigh-- and even though that wound wasn't as bad, a lick of heat rides up his sternum at the sight of it.
"i'm not dependent on you, tomura," you finally say after a moment. you don't look at him when you say it, focused on first aid. "i wasn't being stupid. you heard himiko."
"you shouldn't have gotten hurt," he replies, his voice harsher than he meant it to be. "if you were paying attention, you wouldn't have--"
"things don't always go according to plan!" your head snaps up to his. you notice the tension behind his eyes, he notices the frustration behind yours. your eyes are locked on his and you don't look away until your fingertips graze along the sensitive open skin and you hiss through gritted teeth at the pain. "you think i wanted to get injured?"
"that's not what i'm saying," tomura replies. he takes a step to the left, pauses; then to the right. over and over again until he's pacing in tense, rigid strides. "i'm saying you have no self preservation when i'm not with you."
"are you fucking stupid?"
the pure incredulity in your tone causes both of you to pause. tomura looks baffled, his forehead scrunched as he stares you down. "excuse me?"
you don't back down from him. not this time. "i asked if you were fucking stupid, tomura," you say more firmly. you rise to your feet and stumble ever so slightly, you can feel a small trickle from the open wound on your thigh when you move and you inwardly curse.
"don't talk to me like that," he lifts his hand to point at you again, but you ignore it. your eyes find his and tomura's jaw clenches visibly.
"i'm only treating you how you've been treating me," you take another step towards him. your legs ache and you don't know how much longer you're going to last on your feet. "it's disrespectful. i've shown my place here multiple times. i've proven my worth. you don't trust me."
tomura's eyes flash with a dangerous mix of anger and regret. "this isn't about disrespect," his voice raises.
in the entire time growing closer to each other, tomura has never raised his voice at you. he's never had a reason to yell at you. you've pissed him off, yes; but he's never full on yelled at you before. you've heard him getting into arguments with dabi and spinner-- now those are arguments.
tomura saves the uncharacteristically softer side of his voice just for you. he can be mean, he can be condescending-- he's reprimanded you countless times before.
he doesn't yell. not at you.
"this is about the fact that i can't lose you," tomura advances on you, taking steady strides that force you backwards. "i can't lose a member of the league like you. i can't lose one of my best comrades. i can't lose a friend like you. i cannot and will not loose someone like you."
there's genuine sincerity in his tone. layered underneath all the anger, frustration and poison that coats his words-- hides his fear that one day you might not come back if he sends you out. he's been hiding it fairly well until now. until he was forced to witness the sight of you bloodied and beaten when he was nowhere near to help when he should have.
silence hangs in the room, tense and growing uncomfortable. tomura's heavy breathing can be heard, panting in time with your unsteady wheezing. subconsciously always syncing up, always moving in tandem.
tomura doesn't say anything. neither do you.
tomura scoffs after a moment, his jaw tense and a light dusting over his cheeks. he scans the length of you, lingering over wounds and his hands tighten into fists. he opens his mouth to say something, but he doesn't.
when he leaves the room, he leaves more open wounds than when you came back with.
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