Silhouette ✓ (⛔❤☁)

F O U R T Y - E I G H T

F l a s h b a c k  t i m e

Purote ran as fast as he could, racing by houses and street blocks. Block sixteen went by and a pang of guilt shot through his heart. He missed them.

He was going to be late for the jobs he would be assigned to do today! Purote hated being late, then the runs would go far into the night. They almost never gave him less. If they did, it would be put into the next day and he would be faced with angry 'customers'.

He had to keep his adrenaline up, he didn't want this pain shooting through his body to slow him down. He couldn't do that, he had to keep going.

When a loose rock made him stumble, skidding across the street, he cried out. He was going to be late! With his knees now bloody along with various other lashes along his lower back and sides. Every movement hurt and he was sure that the black tee-shirt he had quickly thrown on was no longer hiding the blood.

Purote was so close. He put in his secret code, announcing his presence. To further keep his body in the correct mode, he continued to move, hopping from foot to foot. The door was opened and he frowned. The regular guy was gone.

"Get in"

He didn't need to be asked twice, running in and through the place to the back where the bar was. He tripped on the threshold of the doorway, barely catching himself.

"I'm here!" He announced, making his way to the bar. Takahashi, the bartender, grimaced st the sight of him. It was understandable, he was an ugly, villainous monster.

His upper arm was grabbed and he turned. Boss stood there with a frown. "You're not delivering until you're fixed up, let's go"

Purote furrowed his eyebrows. "What? No, I can do it"

"I wasn't asking" The man told him, eyes narrowed and demanding. Purote nodded, eyes on the floor.

"Yes sir"

He let himself be dragged out if the bar and into Boss's office. Being lifted and placed on the desk, he watched as the man truffled through his drawers for whatever items he needed.

Personally, Purote felt like he still could've done his jobs. He didn't dare argue, though. Boss always helped him, always gave him what he needed.

Like now, when a bottle of sake was pressed into his grip. He popped off the lid and began drinking, enjoying the sweet taste. A light huff of a laugh sounded and his shirt was lifted.

Before he had time to react and move away, a rag began gently patting at the lashes he'd received. It was definitely some sort of alcoholic beverage, if the way it stung meant anything. He, once he finally realized and accepted that it was just Boss patching him up, returned to the bottle. By the time the man pulled away, it was empty. He wanted more, but his cheeks were already flushed and he felt sleepy.

Boss must've noticed, handing him a cloth. "Change your shirt and go lay down"

He didn't have the energy to argue, pulling off his shirt when the man turned to leave the room.

The shirt wouldn't fit him right and he found that alright, anything that covered him without blood was fine to him.

When Boss returned, he held a blanket. He was directed to a couch-like seat. The man covered him with a blanket, brushing a hand through his hair.

"Get some sleep, kiddo. I'll be right here"

Purote nodded, eyelids heavy and his body felt exhausted, like he'd been awake for days. "Boss?" He whispered out. He received a hum. "You'll stay?"

"Always" Came the reply. Purote could hear it, the sincerity, the pure truthfulness. Boss would always be there, he'd always save him like the Kayama's did.

Purote trusted him with that. He always would.

It was a dreamless sleep, a kind that he could only get with enough sake. It was the kind of sleep that only safety could give him. The kind that held him close and kept his mind in a safe place. This was the kind of sleep he always craved, though he rarely received it.

When he woke, it was slow, the sake still making his cheeks flushed and his body heavy. Boss was still there, he could hear the breaths of cigarette smoke, the shifting of papers, the typing of the laptop the man had.

He could smell the cigarette, the cologne the man wore, the open alcohol bottles.

His mouth watered at the smell of food, some fast food joint if the smell of it was enough to go off of.

Purote was hungry.

Bleary eyes finally opened, a hand living up to rub them. He took a deeper breath as he stretched, forgetting about the bandaged wounds until he was hit with a wave of pain that had his eyes watering.

"Hey kid" Boss greeted. Purote turned to look. "Had one'a the guys grab half the menu of WcDonalds. Come on up"

He did as told and slid off the couch, stumbling over to the bags.

"You get whatever you want, whatever you don't want goes to Jesse and her crowd"

Purote gave a nod, their group was a separate entity of the Bats, but still under Boss's command. He rarely interacted with them, preferring to stick with the crowd he trusted more, men. Women all reminded him of his mother, expeciakkt violent, loud women.

He would stay with Boss. He always would.

I had to do the WcDonalds. Don't blame me, blame my sense of humour.

Word Count: 953