Izuku's worry about potential dangers in the night wars with his wish to make sure his friend is okay, so he quietly sneaks over to the balcony and carefully listens for any sign of a struggle. What the hell would he possibly be able to do if a bad guy has broken in through his neighbor's window?
He swallows back his nerves and slips out onto his balcony with his EDD clutched in one hand, the damp towel still absently held in the other. He leans to the side to peer in through the still-open balcony door and spots a dark shape crumpled on the floor a few feet from where he stands. The only illumination comes from the half moon, which bathes the darkened interior of Murasaki's apartment in an unsettling gloom.
He stares for a moment as his eyes adjust to the darkness, watching for any further movement within the apartment.
There's nothing.
He slips in through the open door, holding his breath. The shape doesn't move. He edges slowly to the left to get a better view and spots a shock of pale violet hair. He drops the EDD on the floor and rushes toward his friend to check for a pulse.
An oddly garbled voice rasps out a complaint at the unexpected touch and he flinches back in surprise. What the heck?
"Murasaki?" he whispers, gently gripping his friend's shoulder and supporting his neck. He rolls him carefully onto his back and stares down at the incredibly unsettling sight before him. He wouldn't be able to tell who the person is on the floor if it weren't for the unmistakable hair.
There's a weird metal mask across his face with a huge slash across the front like the sharp, wicked smirk of a nightmarish monster.
His friend's eyes flicker with partial awareness behind a lurid purple visor that's edged in a smear of blood. He's covered from neck to foot in dark colors, thick plating of some kind with more blood spatter that can barely be seen against all that black in the darkness. He reeks of blood, smoke, and the acrid tang of gunpowder.
Holy shit, what the hell has he been doing?
"Murasaki!" he says a little louder, feeling panic run sharp in his veins. He peers out the balcony door, wondering if they're about five minutes from being set upon by the police.
(shit shit shit)
"Jesus, what did you do?" and then, "Wait no, don't answer that. I don't want to know."
His friend groans in pain as Izuku looks for some kind of latch to get the mask off. "Please don't die," he thoughtlessly mutters.
He can barely recognize the gravelly voice behind the face mask. He sounds like someone else entirely. "You should see the other guy," he tries to joke, but it's a little less funny when his laugh cuts off with a sharp hiss of pain. A shaking hand lifts to press against his side with a grimace.
Murasaki's other hand lifts to his neck, and Izuku follows the path of his finger to locate the release button tucked beneath his chin. The whole contraption shudders as it tries to collapse in on itself, a hidden mechanism grinding with a sharp, ear-splitting whine as sparks fly. Both men flinch in surprise, then Izuku tugs it away from Murasaki's face as soon as the strap unlocks.
There's a cut along his friend's chin, and Izuku immediately presses the towel in his hand to the wound. "Do you know where you are?"
His friend winces at the pressure against the cut. "Home," he replies, grumbly and sullen.
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the cute guy next door (might be a villain) // ShinZuku
Fanfiction[BNHA/MHA] [M/M] Quirkless, young adult Midoriya Izuku has a problem. Namely, he has a crush on his purple haired, tired-looking neighbor. They keep running into each other and the guy is actually pretty nice under that deadpan façade, has a sense o...
