(no subject)

[volatiletempest]

[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?"

Comments

[volatiletempest]

He deposited the soiled bed sheets into the washer, a hand simultaneously reaching for his pack of cigarettes. But they weren’t there. He’d left them in his jacket. Releasing an aggravated sigh, the silverette started up the machine before he made his way back to the living room. He should probably do his other laundry too while he was at it. Slipping his hand into the inner coat pocket, he slid the small plastic box of Marlboro out, removing one of the thin tubes. Smoking was another habit he’d kept from his youth. Of course, it was much more difficult to break away from than simply keeping his address a secret.

It was hard for him to open up and trust people. Sure, he put his complete faith in the Tenth. But he couldn’t say the same for anyone else. Actually, in a lot of ways, even the Tenth didn’t understand him fully. He never did. Not that it really mattered. He had someone else now, but there was not much hope placed in him either. The only reason why he’d brought him back to his apartment was because he couldn’t possibly leave him alone anymore. It was beyond his control now after what had occurred just the previous day. Plus, it was a simple fact that Mukuro Rokudo just needed him. He was completely hopeless otherwise.

Take what he was doing at the moment. He had been gone for barely a couple of minutes and now he was wriggling across the floor like the pathetic heap of a mess that he was. The man couldn’t even drink from a cup with a straw. If he didn’t need him, then the world surely must have gone mad. “That’s not how you do the Worm,” he commented, taking a step over him as if he was a pile of trash in the middle of the road, “Are your clothes wet?” He crouched down to pick up the fallen cup, his eyes scanning for the areas where the liquid had most likely spilt. He needed to go fetch his mop and bucket from the closet. What a drag.

[serpente]

"No," he groused, reaching up to the arm of an armchair. He was already exhausted and his fingers slid off the fabric several times before he could get a grip on the rounded edge. Even then, he almost lost his hold again trying to pull his body upright. Only one arm was of any use to him, and it strained to lift him up enough that he could tuck his legs beneath him and begin to make an attempt to stand. Mukuro was forced to rest slumped over the chair's arm while he caught his breath and recouped some of his strength.

When this was over and he had recovered, he would repay Gokudera many-fold for his treatment of him. Mukuro had no desire to reform himself. He did not need anyone to do it for him. In fact he rather liked the irony in existing as such a depraved, spiteful being who took perverse pleasure in crushing individuals just like himself. Wasn't it often said: 'It takes one to know one'? He was the dark side of the Family which Tsuna needed; the one who understood the filthy underhanded tricks humans used to further their own wants. Gokudera was only going to ruin his effectiveness at his role through this 'discipline'.

[volatiletempest]

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.

[serpente]

Fate? Had Gokudera made even one mention of it, Mukuro would have laughed right in his face. There was no such thing. That there existed parallel worlds shaped by the infinite possibilities of personal choices available to the several billion human beings on this earth disproved any such notion. Gokudera had chosen to enter his room and break his wrist; Mukuro had chosen to retaliate.

Still, that was of little comfort to the illusionist who had to live with said choice. At least this was nothing like being trapped in Byakuran's office, where even thought had been unable to leave. Chrome was out there somewhere, easily contactable if need be, and through her, Tsuna.

"I'm not hungry," he told the Storm, not wanting to give the man any satisfaction. His stomach growled quietly at him but he ignored it. He should eat but he figured he could make his own soup the next time Gokudera was out.

[volatiletempest]

“Suit yourself.” It was less work for him all in all.

He didn’t care about what Mukuro believed in one way or another. He could scoff and ridicule as much as he wanted to, but it wouldn’t change a single thing. Not that he was going to precisely word it as such anyway. Action had proven to be a more impressive contender when it came to teaching the Mist Guardian.

With the unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, Gokudera turned his attention to the awkward position his guest was in. That just wouldn’t do at all, now would it? It was admittedly an amusing sight to behold, however – the once powerful illusionist now a limp noodle on an armchair. He had half a mind to leave him there to his own workings, but he didn’t want to have to cater to him later on if anything… misfortunate should happen.

Gathering him into his arms once more, he presented him with a satisfied smile as he carried him over to his bed. "Vuoi andare a dormire?” He laid him slowly on top of the changed comforter, careful not to hurt him. The time will come when he’d realize exactly how good he was to him. Time and patience was all that was needed.

Time and patience.

[serpente]

"Io non sono un infante," he replied acidly. As soon as he had been laid on the bed, he summoned a pigeon and sent the startled bird at Gokudera's face, continuing, "You cannot keep me in your apartment. Let me go and I won't mention a word of this to Tsunayoshi."

Because he doubted that Tsuna would condone one of his Guardians keeping another Guardian in these circumstances. Gokudera had to be doing this in secret, though what excuse he'd given to the Vongola Mukuro was very interested to know.

[volatiletempest]

And he’d almost thought the day would end pleasantly.

Mukuro just had to mention the Tenth, didn’t he? He just had to threaten him with telling the Tenth about their little situation, didn’t he? Well, he wasn’t going to have any of it. He didn’t bode well with blackmail especially when said blackmail concerned his Boss; not to mention, this was supposed to be strictly personal between them. No one else had the right or the need to intrude on their relationship. He'd prevent it at all costs if it was the last thing he'd do.

His hand instantly slammed down around the frail man’s exposed neck, fingers digging into the tender skin. “Ascoltami, minchione,” he whispered menacingly into his ear, “Anche se si trova un modo per dirgli, io ti ucciderò prima che qualcuno possa venire a salvarvi. Mi hai sentito? Ti porterò nella tomba stramaledetto con me.” He was completely serious too. Or, at least, that's what his current lack of tolerance for bullshit meter was pointing out in big, fat red letters to him.

[serpente]

A choking sound came from his throat, Mukuro's hand futilely trying to relieve the pressure on his windpipe. "I don't understand," he managed to force out in a whisper. He really didn't - even if Gokudera claimed this to be some form of discipline, or whatever it had become now, he couldn't understand the reasoning behind it. The Storm hadn't given one shit about his behaviour before - at least not to such an abusive extent. Had the man actually been patient enough to wait until the illusionist was weak and unable to fight back with more than words?

"Ho già detto a Chrome," he managed to continue. "Così si può anche ottenere questo tutto finito."

[volatiletempest]

“You don’t need to understand.”

He didn’t. All he needed to know was that his interest in him was genuine. The why, when, and how were unimportant because what matter was the now. But, clearly, the now wasn’t enough anymore. Now, the future had to be put into consideration – not that he hadn’t already thought it over carefully. He’d always known Mukuro could communicate with Chrome. It was old news. When he’d decided to bring him back to his place, he'd known there was a good chance the illusionist would inform her of his current circumstance and, inevitably, his whereabouts.

He just hadn’t figured he’d be stupid enough to tell him so forthrightly because now he was forced into a position where he’d have to make a difficult decision. There were a number of options he could pick from. First of all, as Mukuro wished, he could take his life away at that very instance. But Chrome would remain an issue to be dealt with. He could eliminate her too, but then he might as well keep Mukuro alive from the start. Secondly, continuing from the previous speculation, he could kill Chrome and cover up her murder (since their work was pretty risk in general) – except for the fact that he rather liked her and he doubt it’d help progress his relationship with Mukuro much. Or, thirdly, and finally, in a possibly more win-win scenario, he could simply explain to Mukuro all the choices he could make and see if it might snap him out of doing any further regrettable acts because he really didn't want to take drastic measures. It would be unseemly.

Guess he’ll reason with him then. A warning was better than nothing, after all. He had a feeling Mukuro didn't want to die either, given his reaction to his threats yesterday. Of course, it didn't mean he'd loosen his grip on him. It felt very soothing.

[serpente]

Mukuro didn't trust the way those fingers eased off digging into his throat. Experience told him it was a precursor to worse treatment, so he prepared to retreat within himself, into an imagined world where all senses including pain were dulled. He didn't like to distance himself for too long from his physical body as the temptation to sink permanently into the illusionary world was great. Falling into a coma while he was in Gokudera's care was not a scenario he cared to have happen.

Twisting his head from side to side, he tried to move away from the Storm's hand but remained quite firmly pinned to the bed by it. The vulnerable position irked him; it was like pinning the head of the snake down in order to prevent it from striking with its fangs. The rest of its body might writhe and wriggle, but it could do very little on its own.

It's just as well I'm not a snake. Though for how long? All Gokudera would have to do was break his other limbs and he'd be helpless. What was the use of an illusion if he couldn't move? Storm flames disintegrated them easily. Whatever the other man decided to do from here on, it would decide whether Mukuro would feign complacency, or if he would keep fighting. He'd struggled enough to make his transition to the former less suspicious, he thought.

WHY HELLO THERE. I did not take forever to respond to this, oh no. 8]

[volatiletempest]

He explained it to him. He drew out the details very carefully and presented a clear picture of each possible scenario. None of them ended well for the illusionist except for one. Gokudera doubted it would seem like an improvement to him, but it was the better choice out of all the rest. “So,” he finished off with a serious look in his eyes, “why don’t we try to cooperate with each other a little more?” Lowering himself down until he was right next to his ear, he breathed softly into it, his lips curving slightly, “Who knows? Maybe you’ll end up finding it… enjoyable.”

He finally released him from his grasp, his hand reaching up to rub the side of his neck. “Unless you really want to die, of course.” A glance, a shrug, and then the revealing of a devilish smile. He was at it again, messing with him as if he actually had a choice. It was obvious to the both of them that he didn’t, that the only choices were either life or death. “Which I can grant since I’m such a nice guy.” His hand was consumed by flames again, a fiery red color that burned brightly in the dimly lit room. “But I can promise you one thing,” he said, a sadistic glint entering into his green hues, “I won’t make it quick.” Given what he could have done to him the day before, it was a promise he could definitely keep.

[tofufu]

Mukuro wrenched his head away with a poorly concealed whimper. The flames licked at his eat, at his hair, taunting him with the promise of searing agony. He glanced at the other man's red-lit eyes, saw the intent behind the words and believed Gokudera meant what he threatened. Even if such pain would be no different to what he'd suffered through the cycle of rebirth, he disliked the thought of being seen in such a disgusting state. Because if the Storm did his work properly, he'd be begging to die before he was done.

It didn't take him long to make his decision, though he hoped he looked reluctant and angry enough to convince Gokudera of its sincerity. "I'm only complying until I recover," he hisses at him. "As soon as I can wrap my hands around your throat...I'll kill you."

Because it wouldn't be convincing if he didn't declare his intentions beforehand, would it? He made promises, and he kept them.

(Mostly.)

[volatiletempest]

“Go to sleep.”

He was pleased. It was evident in his tone even if his expression had returned to one of indifference. He had enough of the conversation for tonight. Instead of staying in the room any longer than necessary, he wanted to spend the rest of the evening in relaxation. Maybe he’ll make himself a hot beverage and read a book while he waited for the laundry to be done. It was still a bit too early for dinner, but he could probably get started on it afterward.

With that thought in mind, he turned on the heel of his foot, heading straight for the door without another word. The door shut behind him with a soft click as he left his guest once more to his own doings. Tomorrow. Tomorrow will be a better day. He’ll be less tired, more energized. Then, perhaps he will begin the lesson he had in mind for Mukuro. Guess he had to start strategizing now, huh?

[serpente]

Might as well, he thought, rolling on to his side with a shudder of relief. He had to recover his strength, fling off his weakness of hypersensitive skin so that there was less to threaten him with. There were no shackles to hold him in this room. Mukuro would bide his time and do his best to conceal the extent of his returning strength. Then when he could, he would turn the tables on the Storm and escape.

The illusionist's eyes drifted shut as he mentally nodded to himself. It would work. It had before. After all, blurring the distinction between illusions and reality was his forte. He could be a very good actor.