(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]

The side of his lips twitched at the comment, awakening memories he’d long put to rest. He turned away from looking at him as he reached out to pluck the first aid box off of the counter and onto his lap. His demeanor turned dark and he grew silent, unclasping the container in his hold. Removing a couple of bandage wraps and the materials needed to help disinfect his wounds, he inhaled slowly, resetting the smile on his face. He couldn’t let him see he had struck a chord, now could he?

His relationship with his family had always been bad. It’d gotten worse over the years and now he’d lost contact with pretty much everyone – everyone meaning Bianchi. It seemed over the years he hadn’t really changed from that little boy who was betrayed by his father. And, despite how the Tenth had taken him in, Gokudera wasn’t able to forgive and forget. He acted normally around his friends, but, deep inside, he still felt alone. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, of course. He just needed to find that someone who would fill the gap within – and that someone happened to be Rokudo Mukuro.

He’d known right away when they’d met again after all those years in the abandoned factory. Well, alright, almost right away. It was like suddenly something – he couldn’t quite explain it – opened up inside of him and he had to take him with him. He had to bring him back to his home and make him his because that was exactly what he was – his. He’d always been. Honestly, he couldn’t give a solid explanation for why, but a lot of things in the world couldn’t be answered away simply. This was one of them.

“You weren’t obedient,” he placed the box back onto the nightstand, repositioning himself on the mattress to face him better, “Disobedience requires punishment.” His lips curves upward into a pleasant smile as his eyes ran their course along the man’s body. Where should he start? “This is going to sting,” he warned, deciding he’d begin with the burns. As he started the disinfecting process, he continued in a light tone, “Would you like something more to eat after this? I can make any soup you like.”

[serpente]

"Hmph..." Mukuro opted for a non-response. Scathing comments were his forte, but keeping in mind his decision to cooperate with the Storm (temporarily), withholding further comment about the other man's childhood was the wisest course of action.

The illusionist inwardly sneered at the thought of being obedient. Was he not the Mist, who, like the Cloud, couldn't be swayed or caught by anyone? It was preposterous that Gokudera believed he would allow himself to be broken in. Well, the snake was patient. It was silent. As long as it wasn't bothered, it didn't bother you. But if you stepped on it - watch out! Snakes were fast and they had fangs.

"Something savoury," he manages to rasp, flinching at a dab from some disinfectant. "But not spicy."

[volatiletempest]

Now, see? That wasn’t so hard.

His answer seemed to satisfy him as he proceeded to clean him up in silence for the remainder of the treatment. With the aid, some of the less serious injuries were going to be able to heal more rapidly now. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to contain him forever especially if the illusionist’s strength seeped back. The very idea of losing him caused a very unpleasant stir in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t lose him. He couldn’t.

Once he managed to bandage him up, Gokudera leaned down to press a soft kiss to the man’s temple before he left the room with the box in toll. It was time to make him something to eat for being so good. Savory, but not too spicy. He could do that. He could definitely do that.

[serpente]

The illusionist's lip curled in disgust, sneering at the affection bestowed upon him through that moment of intimate contact. There was no question that Mukuro was going to make some sort of attempt to escape from the apartment when his strength returned - the better question to ask was: when? It might take weeks, or several months, but Mukuro had already started to absorb the details of the room and catalogue them precisely. Control the space, control the senses of your opponent, and the battle would already be half-won.

Mukuro rolled over on to his side and winced as the burn scars stretched with the movement. The liquid he'd consumed earlier stayed his hunger slightly, but his stomach still ached for something filling. It galled him to think he'd be dependent on the Storm for his meals.

He closed his eyes. Chrome... Chrome, can you hear me?