It hadn't yet occurred to him to run. Aomine was in no shape to run; aside from how his knees shook, the moment he took off, he knew already that Bad Things would happen. He might still escape, the Bad Thing might even help facilitate his escape, but his battered, limping pride wouldn't let him do that. It was stupid, it was so fucking stupid, but he had to get the water out first. That was all that mattered, even though he shuddered to feel his wrists come free.
"I'm fine. I can make it. I'm fine."
He wasn't fine, but the mantra seemed to bolster his efforts. It got him across the room, to the bathroom, and into the tiny, bleak stall. He was able to move his arms from her shoulders to the walls, brace himself as he eyed the painfully Western toilet. He'd have to sit, but he'd been living in America long enough that it wasn't so--
But she was still there.
The look he gave her, out from under the mussed, sweat mess of his hair, was half-pained, half-embarrassed.
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Date: 2016-04-01 02:40 am (UTC)"I'm fine. I can make it. I'm fine."
He wasn't fine, but the mantra seemed to bolster his efforts. It got him across the room, to the bathroom, and into the tiny, bleak stall. He was able to move his arms from her shoulders to the walls, brace himself as he eyed the painfully Western toilet. He'd have to sit, but he'd been living in America long enough that it wasn't so--
But she was still there.
The look he gave her, out from under the mussed, sweat mess of his hair, was half-pained, half-embarrassed.
"Could you...go?"