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Healing Wounds

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Dirt painted the fabric as fumbling fingers pulled at it haphazardly winding it around the bloody skin. Chuuya Nakahara cursed lowly around the bandages held between his teeth as he used his one good arm to tie them in a knot. Letting go, they fell loose and limp around his arm, blood coloring the edges and seeping through spots.

Leaning back, the rough bricks pulling at his loose strands of hair, he cursed inwardly. The thoughts were a volatile flow through his mind, each one pushing on the headache that was slowly building. A headache from being slammed into the wall or from the annoyance of being abandoned again, he couldn’t tell.

“That shitty Dazai,” he hissed to himself, groaning as his movements pressed into his bruises, “if only he hadn’t gone galavanting off to who fucking knows where...”

He cut the words short and pressed deeper into the shadows as the soft click of heels on concrete pierced his ears. Each step was solid and meaningful, they were footsteps of someone who knew where they were going. And this alleyway was not one that a person would be entering purposefully.

Taking in a slow deep breath, he reached for his knife. Just as his fingers touched the metal, darkness stabbed the ground only centimeters from his foot. The ground cracked, spiderweb cracks spread from the center as the attack pulled back and away. This was an ability he was extremely familiar with.

Jumping to his feet he glared down the alley at the executive who was staring emotionlessly at him. The black beast slithered back into the coat and it swished as it returned to its original form. Those cold eyes stared at him, giving nothing away. The mafia executive, Ryuunosuke Akutagawa had arrived.

“He ran off,” Chuuya said folding his arms over his chest. It was always the first question anyone asked him, where was Dazai. As if it were his fault that the idiot always seemed to run off, as if he should have kept up with him, as if he was wrong.

Akutagawa strolled through the alleyway, each step seemed louder than the last. The younger mafia member fought the natural urge to back away. He instantly regretted that when his injured arm was snagged in a tight and painful grip. He was yanked out of his hiding spot and into the small bit of light, everything in plain sight of his superior now.

Eyes roamed over him, they seemed to take in everything. His cheeks burned from the feeling of those eyes on him. The path his eyes took felt like ghostly hands on his body.

“Such a sloppy job,” the older man said after a moment, a deep sigh escaping his him.

His words caused anger to flare up in Chuuya. He thrashed about, pulling desperately at the captured arm ignoring the pain that burned with every movement. Heels dug into the ground as he tried to escape. “It’s not my fault I can’t fully use my ability without that bastard!”

A single finger pressed to his lips, silencing him. He held still, intense, his eyes burned with all the energy that bounced through him. He was barely contained, but that single touch was just enough.

“I was talking about your bandaging,” Akutagawa said, his fingers already working the knot open.

The quiet words drained all the fight from Chuuya’s body. The exhaustion suddenly seemed to make up for all the gravity he avoided with his power. Legs giving out beneath him, he allowed his elder to settle him on the dirty floor. He leaned against the wall, limp as a ragdoll.

In absolute silence the dressings were pulled away from his wounds, the poorly used ones tossed away and the clean ones replaced them. The hands were gentle on his battered arm, the touches were no more than feathers on his skin, warm and soft. He winced slightly as the fabric was pulled tight, sealing the injuries from the open air. The executive was slow to let go of his arm, but eventually, it fell back to his side.

“Are there any other injuries?”

The lie was on the tip of his tongue, but the redhead couldn’t force the words out. “Just bruises,” was all he could answer.

A soft hum followed his answer and Akutagawa stood up, brushing the dust away from his black coat. He stood, blocking the light and his shadow was long. His ability could devour all, but it felt as though he didn’t even need the ability to do that.

Chuuya’s vision was filled with a familiar hand, outstretched and ready to help. Slowly he reached out and took the offered hand. The warmth was everything he wanted and could not ask for. There was strength in those thin fingers as he was pulled to his feet. Strength and warmth filled him from that touch. His hand was held in that firm grasp even as they stepped out into the hustle and bustle of Yokohama.