volatiletempest | (no subject)

[continuation from this meme]

He couldn't be bothered to make him comfortable.

The room had been a spare guestroom, but he'd never had any guests. Probably because he never invited anyone to his apartment pad. Actually, he'd kept that particular habit since his youth. He didn't exactly know why, but he supposed it was simply because no one had ever asked. Of course, given his current situation, he was rather glad everyone had respected his privacy enough not to question him about his home address. He didn't need them seeing something or, more appropriately, someone he didn't want them to see. Anyway, it was pretty bare except for the queen-sized bed, a nightstand, and a small walk-in closet. The windows and walls had been reconstructed to withstand anything from bullets to explosives. He had spent quite a fortune redesigning the interior of his pad. It was a pride of his.

During the trip back to his place, Gokudera had blindfolded the newest addition to his household (for many reasons). He'd then set him down on top of the mattress and proceeded to gently tuck him in. Afterward, he'd exited the sleeping quarter to busy himself with dinner. He didn't pay any mind to his guest again until the following morning. It was a simple check up — a careful look over the wounds, a quick dab of the body with a wet cloth, and a cup of soup with a nice straw to suck on. He'd left the house minutes later. His job always came first and he knew very well his roommate would remain bedridden for a long, long while. He needed the rest. It was inevitable.

His shift ended early. Late afternoon, to be specific. He returned to his apartment with his jacket slung over his shoulder and his tie loosened haphazardly around his neck. It'd been a short, but tiring day. Draping his coat over the back of a chair, his gaze slowly traveled across the living area to the closed door where his guest laid. A lazy smile began to manifest on his pale feature at the remembrance. Perhaps, he should pay him a visit. He entered the bedroom without a single warning.

"Come ti senti, Mukuro Rokudo?"

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Mukuro hesitated then decided to err on the side of caution. Stubborn and prideful as he was, a wet bed was not something he, as an invalid, wanted to be lying on. So he gave a jerky nod before struggling to push himself up. It was hard going when he could use neither arm for support and all of his muscles had wasted away after ten years floating in water. In the end, he had to admit defeat and lay back panting, cheeks burning with shame. He refused to ask for help.

Ah, his poor, pitiable snake.

Look how much he needed him. He didn’t even have the strength to climb out of bed himself. Rising up from the bedside table, Gokudera slipped his arms under the man, hoisting him up. “Sit or stand?” The question was simple enough to inform him of what he needed to do once they were inside the bathroom.

But how truly fragile and light he still was – could he even stand on his own two feet long enough to take care of his needs? Opening the door with his foot, he carried the illusionist inside before setting him down. An arm wrapped around his waist to hold him steady as his hand went around on the other side to begin removing his pants. Time to go.

Mukuro's legs soon began to shake. There was hardly any musculature, and what stringy tendons remained were woefully inadequate to hold up his meagre weight. Gokudera's supporting arm helped only a little. The illusionist voiced some inarticulate noise at the other man for taking the initiative in removing his trousers for him, but he was tired simply from standing. Resisting - or even attempting dextrous movement - was beyond his motor skills at the moment.

"Let me sit," he rasped. He could feel that he was beginning to drag Gokudera down. The drag against his papery skin caused him to whimper quietly. His nerves still felt like they were on fire.