A/N: Reminder that for this AU, abilities originate from the mutated DNA from having a demigod ancestor.
Dazai POV
I studied the other boy, taking in the smaller teen's steely gaze as he stared back at me from his spot across the room. Those blue eyes reminded me of the ocean, relentless and forever changing. Today there was a storm in those eyes, dangerous tides known to drown men at sea. Looking at him with my own falsely brown one, I was able to read just what the other boy was thinking behind his own.
There wasn anger there, anger not only directed at me but at the teen himself as well. Anger as endless as the sea itself. But it was just being restrained by the unshakable will of its owner. It was a look telling me to keep to as normal for now, to finish the assignment, that the true showing of the shorter boy's anger would come once we were done.
Okay then, we'll do what you want, for now.
The sweet smell scenting the small subtly became stronger as we stood there together, each taking the other in. Reaching into my coat pocket swiftly as I moved closer to the other teen, I pulled out a small black gas mask from one of the deeper pockets, holding it out to Chuuya. The other teen stared at me with the same cold gaze, only a small flit of curiosity briefly taking over the boy's features.
"Knockout gas," I told the other boy in lieu of a proper explanation, shaking the mask slightly at the teen as I spoke with an emotionless voice.
He needs to put this on quickly. I don't have the physical strength to carry the weapons shipment, the supplier, and Chuuya back through the strange layout of the building.
The gas was currently being filtered through the thick curtain that created this small space, but given enough time even the filtered gas build up will be enough to knock out the other teen before long.
Chuuya grabbed the gas mask after another moment or two of waiting. The other boy put it in hesitantly, pulling the wavy hair away from the mask as he did. It wasn't long enough to pull into a ponytail quite yet, but it wasn't far off from being there.
"Grab the weapons crate and the middle man," I ordered once the other teen was situated with the mask in place, "the effect of the gas won't last much longer."
The smaller teen did as instructed without complaining, a soft red glow taking over the boy's body. My brain buzzed lightly as it always did when the other used his ability, a sense of an unknown power making itself known, of a godly power.
The vessel moved, touching the crate and the body on the floor lightly. The warm glow spread quickly to the two, consuming them just as it did the teen himself.
I started walking to the curtain, trusting the other boy to properly manage his own ability as needed. I got about half way to the curtain before something made me stop again.
"Bandage waste," a gruff voice called out, making me pause in my step. I turned to the other boy, doing a slow about face. "What about you?" Chuuya asked, pointing to the black mask on his own face. The question itself sounded like the other was concerned, but there was none of that in the other boy's tone. It was a purely self interested voice. "I'm not carrying you and this baggage all the way back, Mr. Nullification."
"Immune," I answered bluntly, turning back around to continue making my way to the velvet curtain.
"How?" Chuuya asked, the smallest note of surprise sinking into the other boy's tone.
I waved my arm passively, letting the loose sleeve of my coat flap lightly as I still refused to wear it properly. "Misadventures in suicide," I told the other teen emotionlessly, as if it would explain everything.
And it did, in its own way.
I wasn't looking at the small redhead, but I could still picture the way that he was drawing his own conclusions from the information that I gave him, creating small scenes in his mind of just what these 'misadventures' could've been.
However, my misadventures were nothing more than fiction designed to placate the inquisitive mind of the other boy. In reality, I had the good doctor to thank for my strange condition.
While the mafia boss was running his tests on me, my ability, and the high levels of pre ability mutation found in my DNA, he took the liberty of running a slew of other tests. The doctor said at the time that he wanted to see just how the pure unmutated DNA reacted to different things, one of them being anesthetics. By the time that he got bored with that brand of experiments, my resistance to drugs of the kind was much higher than it should've been.
The mask would be useless to me in this situation.
I yanked on the curtain, slipping through it as quickly as possible to keep it from closing on me. Chuuya followed close behind me, floating the baggage in each hand as he went.
—-
Chuuya POV
The sickly sweet smell got immensely stronger as Dazai and I slipped through the thick Curtiss. It was strong enough that I probably would've started coughing if it wasn't for all of the late night smoking with the stuff that comes with the bandages.
Not that I'll be doing that anymore.
I fixed the mask that Dazai gave me, tightening it in the spots that let the gas in. I knew that the smell of smoke still hanging on my clothes from last night was quickly being overpowered by the reaction that bandages set off in the ballroom, erasing the smell like it was never there. The entire room was covered in low hanging smoke, lazaily drifting at about the height of the passed out crooks on the ground.
"Just what the hell did you use?" I asked, looking down at the damage caused by the other teen. A bowl that looked like it used to be meant for ice was still lightly smoking near the door. The people on the floor showed no signs of waking up anytime soon despite what Dazai had said about needing to rush.
The other teen glanced back at me over his shoulder, wearing a fake smile that seemed more frayed than it's normal seamlessly put together con. I wanted to punch the look off of the boy's face, vowing to do it later, after the mission was over.
Dazai shrugged lightly as he answered in that falsely happy voice of his. "Swiped it from the boss's office months ago," the teen spoke carelessly as if what the teen did didn't mean a thing to him.
Of course you did.
A sigh muffled by the mask escaped my lips, once again making me feel tired at the knowledge that I could understand the bastard's tiredness when dealing with my fighting antics.
We made it to the door, stepping over the passed out mafiosos carefully, without speaking or looking at each other again. When we got close, I pushed ahead of the other teen up the stairs, ready to be out of this place as fast as possible, but when I tried the door I remembered that it was locked, reinforced from the other side.
Raising my foot, prepared to just kick the door down with a little gravity behind it, I froze, my body suddenly stiffening up at the strange feeling that took me a moment to process. Something had touched my head, flicking my hat lightly. The offending party brushed past me, taking care not to touch me further as I restarted my ability.
"Really, Hatrack?" Dazai asked, crouching down in front of the door in question. "Do you feel the need to just destroy everything that gets in your way? So primal," the other boy antagonized.
I thought about just kicking the teen in the head, leaving him here and just telling Mori that Dazai wandered off somewhere after the mission. It wouldn't be the first time that the teen avoided coming back to headquarters after an assignment for whatever reason. The fact that I knew the other boy was right, as we weren't supposed to be causing property damage didn't help much.
"You slimy bastard," I cursed, digging my nails into my gloves harshly to keep my ability from running out of control as I was still using it on the supplier and the weapons crate.
The taller teen rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, revealing the endless rolls of bandages hidden beneath the clothing. I watched as Dazai placed his hand flat against the door, a bright burst of blue light coming from the contact.
"Ability reinforced locks," Dazai sighed, seemingly uninterested in the precautions that the auction house had taken, "how boring."
The boy flicked his wrists lightly, a metal lock pick sliding smoothly into each hand. Dazai barely touched the lock with them before standing back up, seamlessly sliding the lock picks back into the folds of his bandages.
He moved to the side, pressing his side against the wall as he held onto the door handle. The teen jerked his head to the side, motioning for me to go stand by the opening of the door. Only when I, the supplier, and the weapons were in place did the brown haired boy finally open the door, letting me and the things enter the hallway. When we were in and everything out of the way, Dazai rushed in behind us, closing the door quickly behind himself.
I reached a hand up to the mask that the bandage waste had given me to wear, ready to be free of the damn thing. Before I could pull the damn thing off, a hand waved in front of my face, careful not to touch me as it did.
"Just what the fuck do you think your doing?" I asked, the annoyance in my voice clearer than it's ever been before. I just wanted the thing off and Dazai wasn't doing himself any favors by stopping me from doing just that.
The teen slid past me and the beings under my ability's influence, all but hugging the wall so as to not touch anything involving For The Tainted Sorrow again so he didn't accidentally nullify it.
"Let the gas dissipate first," the boy instructed, not even looking my way once as he did all of this.
My thoughts were bitter as I thought about the scene that just played out.
Why is he avoiding looking at me? I'm the one that's supposed to be mad at him.
Still, I listened to what the teen had to say, keeping the mask on until the bandaged teen nodded at me when we reached the other side of the long hallway. No sooner than the boy moved his head was the piece of plastic off and thrown to the floor. In the air I could still smell the sweet smoke, but it was much weaker now than it had been before. The scent of fresher air made me realize just how drowsy I'd started to become from inhaling the smoke while behind the curtain.
I watched Dazai pulling the same trick that he'd done before, kneeling down, rolling up his sleeves and pulling the lock picks out from thin air again before taking care of the locked door. The only difference this time was when he stood up, Dazai reached behind his loose hanging coat, and pulled a handgun out silently.
The teen opened the door swiftly with his right hand, holding the gun with his left before smoothly changing the hand that the gun was in as the boy raised his hand.
I could see just what Dazai was pointing the gun at, but the image of the man that put the bracelet on my wrist, binding my ability came to mind. The thought of that man having a gun pointed at his head wasn't an unpleasant one at all.
This should be fun.
—-
Dazai POV
Pointing the gun at the soft spot of the man's skull, having to hold my arm up just a bit as the adult is taller than I am, I turned the safety off, letting the man hear the click of the weapon before I spoke.
"Don't move if you want to live," I told the man darkly, digging the gun into the man's skull harder to drive the point in.
Of course I was lying, there's no way that this man is getting out of here alive even if he follows all of my instructions to the letter. The middle men and the mafiosos might be off limits because it would piss other organizations off if we killed them, but the grunts manning the checkpoints are fair game for any contestant willing to play.
I could almost feel Chuuya all but begging the man to disregard my warnings and move anyways.
The man instantly stilled, seeming to value his life more than I do. A grin split across my face at the sight, it was a smile that I knew if I were to actually see it, I'd hate myself even more than I already do for how similar it is to his. Despite possessing that knowledge, I felt the grin only deepen more.
I can't understand why someone would want to live. That was simply something that when looking back on my past actions as Percy Jackson, I really didn't seem to understand then either. I always threw myself into the fray back then, never caring if I got hurt in the process. I fought the god of war at the age of twelve, led a suicide mission into the Underworld and sent the head of Medusa to the same gods that are famously known for smiteing the mortals that disrespect them all in the same week. Not even getting started on my trip to the Sea of Monsters a year later that made the Underworld seem like nothing more than a school field trip.
So after almost sixteen years of not caring about myself and living to the next day, it is still interesting to see just how easily I can make those that do care about such things dance on the strings that I've made for them.
"Good," I told the man coldly, mockingly. "Now, are there more of you than there were earlier?"
"No," the man answered in the voice of someone trying their best to seem tougher than they clearly were. "We haven't had our shift change yet," he explained, probably thinking that giving more information freely would boost his chances of living longer.
With anyone else, this might be a smart move to make.
I hummed lightly, pulling the gun back slightly as a form of reward for the grunt on the other end of the firearm. The man's shoulders relaxed slightly at the movement as well.
"Where's the ability user?" I asked, bringing attention to the fact that I knew the guard was alone in the second checkpoint despite not being able to see into the room.
"In the next room, waiting to be taken away during shift change," the man said swiftly, showing no hesitation in selling out his coworker or anyone else for the sake of his own survival.
While I may not care about the Port Mafia or many people in it, I at least knew not to sell out my own organization like the man currently being held at gunpoint was doing. He could've lied or at least shown some hesitancy in giving up his coworker's position so easily.
But his cowardice really isn't my problem. Just like how the grunt's lack of loyalty will no longer be his organization's problem anymore.
"Thank you," I told the man sincerely. Really he did make this much easier for us then it really should've been if the man had an ounce of backbone in his bulk build. "So much."
The shot rang out loudly in the otherwise quiet room as a crater was created in the back of the man's skull. Blood splattered on my face, staining my bandages red as the corpse crumpled to the ground at my feet, showing off all more blood splatter on the other side.
Stepping on the corpse's chest like it was nothing more than a stepping stool there for that purpose, I moved into the next room. I thought that Chuuya might've been mad at me for killing the man on the ground after I'd told him no killing earlier, but the sound of the corpse being kicked across the room told me otherwise.
"Bastard," the boy cursed, for once not aiming it at me. "Why'd you kill the bouncer?" The teen asked, a grumble in his voice at the fact that I got to let loose but he hadn't been able to quit yet.
I shrugged slightly, moving to the door that would take us back to the first checkpoint. "No loose ends," I told the other teen. "He's one of the few people that got a good look at us while we were here."
"The whole ballroom got 'a good look at us'," the other boy shot back, his voice raising in a manner that seemed to suggest he thought I didn't plan for that.
I thought he knew already, I plan for everything.
"Aww, Chibi, I'm disappointed," I cooed in a falsely sad tone, "I thought you knew me better than that." I leaned down, picking the last lock as I talked. "The gas has some memory altering chemicals in it," I explained. "No one in that room will remember the events leading to or directly after the gas."
Sometimes it's better to not remember the events leading to things like this.
The smaller teen mumbled something about me being some type of demon, not that I blamed him. It takes a demon to make something like that and another one to use it.
Opening the door just as I had the last one. I pointed the gun at the last guard's head, firing without any of the questioning that the previous one got. More blood mixed into my bandages, caking my skin as the last shot had. I could only imagine what I looked like to the collared ability user as we stepped fully into the room, staring the man down.
"Are you going to kill me?" The ability user asked in a soft voice, noticeably devoid of any true fear that it should've held.
"Do you want me to?" I asked, purposefully matching the other's soft tone, noticing how he didn't even flinch as I walked closer to him.
The man looked down as his hand reached up, ghosting the shock collar at his throat before looking back at me. "I don't want to go back to them. I don't want to be used anymore," the man said, the smallest bit of defiance slipping into his tone.
To be used...
The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth as I continued towards the other ability user, but I ignored all of the thoughts and memories that threatened to bubble up at the words. Those kinds of emotions were lost on something as wretched as me.
"Dazai," Chuuya warned from across the room. I could guess the thoughts filtering through his mind at this moment. I could also guess at the anger that he'd been suppressing that was about to bubble to the surface once more.
"Okay," I told the other, my voice just above a whisper.
The man smiled sadly, a thank you ghosting on his lips as I raised the gun a final time, waiting for the ability user to close his eyes for me to pull the trigger.
The bang from the shot filled the room, but it was soon drowned out by the sound of something hitting the wall. Looking behind me, I saw Chuuya's raised fist slowly falling from the wall back down to the teen's side as hundreds of cracks formed on the wall behind him.
"You didn't have to do that," the ability user growled lowly in a dangerous tone. "We could've-"
"The Port Mafia is not a philanthropist organization, Chuuya," I cut in, cutting the other teen off midsentece. "Even if we were, the auction house would have chased him down until he died anyway for trying to get out." I walked away from the steaming teen, opening the last door into the darkness of the alley from earlier.
"This was the best outcome," I told him, walking away to call for the car.
This was the only option that didn't put a target on the Port Mafia's back.
—-
Chuuya POV
I looked at the cooling body laying on the ground, at the blood pooling around what used to be the ability user's head. I thought about the easy way that Dazai shot the man, about the almost peaceful look on his face when he looked at me after killing the man that'd just been asking for death.
I know that I've killed more than my fair share of people during my life. I see their faces as I try to fall asleep most nights, but every death had a purpose. Whether it was for revenge because they tried to hurt my people, or simply a part of the job, it was something that needed to be done.
Never did I look so calm about it though.
I know that I'm the vessel for an ancient god, but watching Dazai shoot the ability user that was asking for help was like watching a monster at work. Like watching something less human than I am, if Dazai could've ever been called human at all.
Leaving the first room that we came through, I walked into the alley, noticing that while it was still dark, it was much brighter than when I first walked down it earlier today. I could see the Demon Prodigy at the opening of the alley, getting off the phone and walking over to where I'd sat down to wait.
"They'll be here in about five minutes," he informed me emotionlessly before walking back to the mouth of the alley, sitting in a spot visible for the car to see.
When they came, I put the weapons container and the supplier into one car, while Dazai and I rode in another.
It was the first car ride that we had together that wasn't filled with bickering, but a heavy silence instead. In the end, I fell into a dreamless sleep for the rest of the ride back to mafia headquarters.
—-
Chuuya POV
When we got back, Dazai and I took the elevator up to the boss's office quietly, keeping a tense distance apart as anticipation for the fight that would follow our report took over. At least it did for me that is, there's no telling why the other teen was also keeping the distance.
We got off the elevator and walked down the hall in silence, such an odd sight for us that when we got to the door the guards startled at our sudden appearance. I glared at them, waiting for them to open the door so I can be done with this already, yell at Dazai, and finally go to bed.
The two guards opened the door in a small frenzy, seeming to remember the last time that Mori personally gave us a mission and they made Dazai and I wait to give the debriefing to him on it after.
The pair of us walked in, more than an arm's length between us as we did, the air only getting tender as we walked inside the room. However, the clouded anger at the other teen that was filling my head disappeared for a moment as I took in the scene playing out before us.
Just what the hell is going on here?
"Come on Elise, just try on one dress," a grown man yelled, scurrying around the room after the blonde ability. "You'd look so pretty in the dark green one. Just try it one once," the man begged, the dress in question clenched in his hands as he ran.
The ability was running away, keeping a good distance from her ability user, Mori. The girl was wearing her normal red dress and striped leggings, though she had her shoes off, thrown on the floor in different spots around the room to allow her to run faster.
If this was anyone else with any other child, I would be concerned and would probably kill the man that dared to look at a child that way. But this is the Port Mafia boss, my boss, and the child in question is just his ability, an extension of himself that he can decide how she looks and acts, choosing to make her young and bratty on purpose for whatever reason. It still wasn't a pleasant sight, but it's better than the alternative.
At least it's not an actual child.
Dazai walked ahead, narrowly avoiding the running duo as he walked across the room to the boss's desk, sitting down on it when he got there. This was something that only the taller boy could do without being killed on the spot.
"Hello, Elsie," the bandaged boy called out when the girl ran past him again.
"Dazai, Chuuya," the ability greeted as she continued to run away from the mafia boss.
"Ah, boys," Mori said, suddenly stopping as if he only just noticed that we came into the room.
I can never really tell when he does things like this if it is real or just an act that the boss puts on to make himself seem less harmful than he actually is. Most likely the latter.
The boss walked over to his desk, sitting down in the chair there, not seeming to care about the other teen on the desk. "Report," he commended coldly, dropping all of the childlike desperation that he possessed only moments ago.
He changes his emotions so fast that it makes you wonder if he has any at all, kind of like the other teen in the room.
"We recovered the weapons," I told him, stepping further into the office now that the scene from before has died down, "and the supplier is being prepared for interrogation in the sublease as we speak."
The boss hummed loudly before looking at the teen sitting sideways on his desk. "Anything to add, Dazai?"
"Three curtains, all auction workers, no witnesses and no mafia casualties, foreign or domestic," the boy reported in a tone just as monotone as the boss's. "I also planted bugs in the phones of each of the mafiosos present. You should be able to have someone track the information gathered from almost any of the Port Mafia's computers."
"Untraceable?" The mafia boss asked. I could almost hear the sparkle in the older man's tone, a far cry from Dazai who seemed to be becoming more and more dead as the conversation went on.
"Of course."
The mafia boss smiled in a way that I wouldn't call warm, but something almost akin to proud. "Good job boys," the boss complimented before waving his hand in a shooting manner. "Go. Sleep," he ordered, "I want the written reports by the end of the week, but go sleep for now."
It would almost sound like Mori was being a caring boss if you didn't remember that fact that this was the mafia, a place where caring is overrated. Where caring gets you killed.
I could hear the undertone in the man's voice.
You're useless to me if you're exhausted.
Dazai slid off of the desk lazily, following me out of the room at a pace just barely noticeably slower than his normal stride. I dug my nails into my gloves, clenching and unclenching my fist as we walked to the door.
A part of me still wanted to believe that the supplier had just been lying about the bandaged teen behind me hitting Shirase despite saying that none of the kids would be hurt. That he'd just been saying it to get under my skin and throw me off my rhythm. But the rest of me was smarter, I knew that the bandaged boy is a lier, and that it's entirely possible that what the supplier said was true.
Dazai plays the part that is needed at the time, changing his emotions fast enough to match the situation. He's a manipulative bastard that only cares about himself and suicide.
And yet, I'm stuck with the asshole.
The Sheep betrayed me, even if it was through the other teen's manipulation. And now I'm here, walking through the halls of the Port Mafia headquarters, partnered with a demon that, surprisingly, normally keeps his word.
I just want to know what made Shirase so damn special.
It would be different if I'd been the one to dig a knife into the guy's gut, since he was the one that stabbed me, but Dazai had no reason to go and do that.
I'm tired enough that all I really want from the other teen right now is a damn straight answer for once in the boy's life.
—-
Dazai POV
The mafia boss's door closing shut sounded like the slamming of a coffin to my ears as Chuuya walked away, leaving me to trail behind him. The red head was quiet as we walked, something that he'd been since the job began at the auction house. It was an unsettling silence, like the one that looms over the graveyard at a funeral.
We walked into one of the spare rooms on the floor below the boss's office. There was a small western style bed, a desk and a chair in the room, along with a small dresser and a door leading to the personnel bathroom.
Chuuya flopped down on the bed while I slid down into the chair across from him. We let the silence hand in the air for a moment before either of us spoke.
"Why did you do it?" Chuuya asked in a tired voice, his words barely audible.
I didn't have to ask what he meant, it was obvious enough.
The silence continued on as I didn't know just how to respond to the teen. I'd only really seen the boy in a mood similar to this one once, the only difference was that he had a knife in his side.
"Tell me," the teen demanded, still clenching and unclenching his fist.
But it felt like I had led in my mouth.
Apparently silence was not the right answer.
"Damn it, Dazai!" The other boy exclaimed, slamming his hat on the bed and running a hand through his hair like he thought that would calm himself down.
A flinch ran through my body at the boy's actions, turning me into a little kid again. A little boy huddled on the apartment's kitchen floor as Gabe stood over me with a broken beer in his hand, waving it around dangerously while my mom was still at work. It wasn't long after that incident that I was sent to my first boarding school.
But the other boy didn't see my reaction and didn't hear the thoughts in my head as he continued on.
"I only asked one thing of you!" Chuuya yelled, his voice breaking at the end. "You manipulated me into joining the Port Mafia, people that I hated," he continued, his voice softening in that of a hushed defeat, "and all I asked of you was that you didn't hurt the kids."
The kids...
He still holds them dear even after all that they did to him. Betraying him, using him to get out of their own messes and gaslighting him into thinking that he still owed them, especially Shirase from what I gathered the first time that I met him.
Like you always do.
"I didn't," I told him simply.
I kept my promise. I always do.
"You stabbed Shirase in the gut!" The boy said, gaining some of his volume back. "Is stabbing not considered hurting anymore or something?" The boy continued, the anger in his voice evident.
This might just be the angriest that I've ever seen the other teen.
Still...
"He doesn't count," I deadpanned, knowing exactly what the other boy's reaction was going to be, but saying it anyway.
He's the one that wants the truth after all, that's just what I'm giving him.
I could easily see the vein protruding from Chuuya's forehead as his anger raised impossibly higher.
"He was included," the other boy argued. "He was a child-"
"And so were you," I cut in, stopping the other boy in his rant before he could go on saying any more meaningless things.
For the first time in a long while, I was having to fight to keep my voice down, to remain the emotionless bastard that the mafia had turned me into. Fight to keep from screaming.
I just didn't get it, couldn't comprehend it despite my IQ. Shirase tried to kill Chuuya and yet here Chuuya was, months later still defending the self obsessed asshole, mad at me for bringing a form of karmic justice to the silver haired teen.
"That's besides the teen," the other teen snarled. "You took them from me and all I asked was that they come away from the ambush unhurt." There was a dangerous glint in those blue eyes of his when the boy looked at me. "I thought even a demon like you could at least do that much."
I felt like I'd been shot at the words from the other boy.
A demon, I'd been called it enough by the other mafiosos in the Port Mafia, but Chuuya had never said it out loud, never to my face like this.
"He stabbed you first," I reminded him coldly. "At least I didn't poison the blade." My voice was its normal calmness, just barely betraying the anger and frustration hidden beneath the layers of apathy.
"That gave you no right to do it back!" The other boy countered, his arm swinging out in a deadly arc towards the head post, running clean through it.
I opened my mouth to speak, to do something to stop the other boy from acting in such a way that didn't cease to remind me of the people that I'd rather forget, but Chuuya beat me to the punch.
"And don't say that you did it for me," the other boy growled. "You didn't and you know that. You did it because he was there, or maybe you just thought that it would be fun," the shorter teen decided, finally seeming to be making up his mind on the question that had been burning in there.
He leaned forward, staring me down with those blue eyes that used to remind me of home. "You did it for yourself," he whispered just loud enough to make sure I heard it. His voice sounded like a curse. "You're not human enough to have done it for me."
He was looking at me like he was daring me to fight him on this. To somehow prove him long. But I couldn't because he was right, I wasn't human enough. But I knew he would never believe me either way if I tried to argue that I had done it for all of the reasons that he was burning.
I stood up, walking to the door without looking at the other teen. I didn't want to see the boy's face or for him to even get a good glimpse at mine.
"I sent a grunt to watch over him, make sure he got proper medical attention and that he made it through the following week," I told him, my hand grasping the door knob. "Shirase was never in any life threatening danger."
The unlike you goes unspoken and unheard by those of us in the room.
I opened the door, leaving Chuuya alone in the room.
Walking down the hallway, making my way to the place that someone deemed fit to call a home, I felt so... numb.
Maybe it's better this way.