It was no longer a matter of mere “discipline”. Yes, he will continue to train him. He will teach him basic etiquettes and the essential communication skills needed to interact with other people accordingly out in society. However, it wouldn’t stop just there. He had new intentions for him. Considering he didn’t want what he'd done to be let out into the open, Gokudera couldn’t risk the chance of freeing him without precautions. He had to make him understand that they needed each other now, that there was no way they could go back to how everything was before yesterday’s visitation. Either they take one another down in the process or they learn to accept fate for what it was – and this was fate.
Mukuro had always belonged to him even before he himself had actually realized it. But, now that he’s really given it some thought, it made sense. They were perfect for each other. They were similar in so many ways. It was like they were born to be together. Unfortunately, obstacles were constantly a part of life. The bomber might have realized it now, but there was still an inevitable hate between them – a hate that couldn’t be swept under the rug after only two days. They needed time. And, since the illusionist was clearly not ready to cooperate yet, his first step would have to be to drill it into his head. He was certain that, once he comprehended the purpose for their obligated coexistence, all the pieces will eventually fall into their proper places.
But, for the time being, there remained a ways to go – at least, far longer than cleaning up the soup. That was taken care of within a couple more minutes. “You must be hungry,” he regarded him after he’d put away the supplies, “If you say ‘please,’ I’ll reheat some more soup for you to drink.” Maybe if he was direct about what he wanted from him, he’d listen better. It was worth a shot.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2012-09-18 07:12 am (UTC)Mukuro had always belonged to him even before he himself had actually realized it. But, now that he’s really given it some thought, it made sense. They were perfect for each other. They were similar in so many ways. It was like they were born to be together. Unfortunately, obstacles were constantly a part of life. The bomber might have realized it now, but there was still an inevitable hate between them – a hate that couldn’t be swept under the rug after only two days. They needed time. And, since the illusionist was clearly not ready to cooperate yet, his first step would have to be to drill it into his head. He was certain that, once he comprehended the purpose for their obligated coexistence, all the pieces will eventually fall into their proper places.
But, for the time being, there remained a ways to go – at least, far longer than cleaning up the soup. That was taken care of within a couple more minutes. “You must be hungry,” he regarded him after he’d put away the supplies, “If you say ‘please,’ I’ll reheat some more soup for you to drink.” Maybe if he was direct about what he wanted from him, he’d listen better. It was worth a shot.