CONTROL ; toji fushiguro

↳ chapter seven: 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵.

Something perhaps dangerous, laced with danger; praying was what you did, praying you hadnʼt landed yourself in danger.

"Youʼre rather quiet. Weʼre here. Blood could be let free and youʼd not know because youʼre letting your mind consume you in a moment of importance." His tone was rather sinister as the plates were set as if they were chest pieces that altered the fates of others, knives thatʼd plunge in the perfect spot to finish off the life beneath it.

"Blood? So is this what this is about? Something sinister?" His face is stoic as he figures youʼre more attentive than you would lead yourself on to be.

"Close, yet not close enough," You set yourself within the chair opposite his own, your eyes closing in on his own.

"Megumiʼs safety. Have a security guard with you and him at every second youʼre out with him, or I suppose fresh air is something youʼll never encounter again."

You were right, your gut was right. He was waiting for a moment in which the both of you were alone, so he could corner you with a request thatʼd determine your life status, whether youʼd live or perish within his own hands, you were done for. You had taken up an offer that you thought held no danger, but you should have been on edge by the rather high pay. "Megumiʼs safety is something I highly value, Iʼd do anything to keep the kid safe. Anything."

Not a single lie had left your lips. It was the first day, but still, you felt as if Megumi was your own, a son.

"Actions radiate louder than words," Tojiʼs demeanour is no longer playful, only bitter as he discusses the safety of his only son with you. His world was rather nocturnal compared to your own, so he didnʼt feel any remorse in the shift of your demeanour, even behind the repose in yours, he could sense the panic arising within you, he knew, just knew heʼd scared you off like he did with the other nannies he had hired, who had always winded up unalive or living with a burden of fear.

"I know actions speak louder than words," Tojiʼs gaze is one so dull it diminishes the warm flame within your chest, "Thatʼs why your parents failed to save themselves. They failed to strengthen themselves for your siblings and you." Your breathing halted for a mere second as you came to a realisation as to what he had said. He knew, he knew how theyʼd perished, yet he smothered you in the dark, a dark you had tried so desperately to clear, drown it within a light, but even when you apply paint on a dark colour, itʼs still there, indicating the truth hasnʼt fully been uncovered.

A single tear slipped from your left eye as you sat across him, your demeanour emotion deprived, but your mind full of words to dispose of. "Yet, no matter how strong you are, you still die. You create a pathway, building someone else's character, or you die with a mere title. You have no right to speak on people I knew as loved ones, especially people who created me, gave me life, fed me, took care of me, loved me, watched me change, was proud of me. Despite that, I listened to their dying words, I listened to it all, Toji. A child, listened to it all. Now imagine if Megumi saw you die..."

His raven eyes waltz with the rhythm of the rain, which now flowed against the window of the large dining room window as he bloomed with rage, "Your demeanour says it all, you donʼt like those words, don't you?" You let out an airy breath, a feeling of relief as you cleared the tear away from your left cheek. "..." Tojiʼs deprived of words as he begins eating, and you mimic his gesture, allowing the taste to flourish onto your tongue.

"You know so much yet say so little, Mr Fushiguro. Itʼd be nice to know one day," You eye the salad on your plate, feeling yourself unwilling to label him as a name he felt suited more, but you felt it was better to call him that until your unknown emotions subsided. You didnʼt even know what to say, what to make out of it as you wasnʼt angry, from how many times you had been through it before, knowing it brought nothing to a lavishly decorated table of emotions that rested in your mind. It was pure nothingness, it was tricky to elaborate on, tricky to graze a finger upon. It was like a scar that embedded pigment into your skin, yet couldnʼt be opened up unless you deliberately sliced at the skin so it could overlap on top of the pigmented skin.