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𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐘.
❛ chapter seventeen ❜
𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐨'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐯.
the words are pathetic.
in fact, i can't help my urge to take them back, one that is so grounded into me it flowers physically and i cannot help as the corner of my mouth twitches as if to subconsciously take the statement back that has already battled it's way into my self-concious with a sense of mockery that cuts through my own pride. it's a dehumanizing feeling, and for a second a flash of anger rests easily over my tensing body.
"okay. that's fine."
i am temporarily distracted as i glance over at the boy who wipes his swelling eyes hard firstly, as if to clear his eyesight before he returns my gaze, an unforeign hesitancy residing in his sweet, espresso eyes- one that is not communicated in his movements that swiftly carry him over to me. his eyes seem to linger on me, as if debating his own motive before sitting down in front of me, almost hesitant before he almost bashfully forces himself to sit closer.
a bit too close.
"okay, first the shirt." kiyoshi tells me, his voice shaking hard, unintentionally exposing the authorital action he takes for what it is- a simple mask for the nerves that are so tightly wound in him that even his hands shake in a slow delay of the plan he calls himself talking me through. if he wasn't so sensitive, then i would laugh- but he's too soft, and i am too drained to do much but stare at him as he reaches his hands towards mine. they are much smaller than mine, but so pretty; his long fingers grasp the blood-stained material of my shirt and i can't help but to avert my gaze to him as i lift my arms through my shirt.
i am sure it would be better for me not to look at him before the wound in my thigh completely tears through my leg in response to the immediate need i feel- the immediate pulse of another heart, the thoughts of another mind that completely merge my feelings into a unit i cannot do much but question; i can't do anything but question the gentle sweetness he touches me with and if i desire it or if i desire to overtake it, just like him; i can't do anything but to crave, knowing if i move, i will do nothing but terrify him because no matter the urgency of the question that drives me to an uneasy, enraged state of being..
i simply can't admit it.
i refuse to.
"uh.." the boy whispers softly, and i cannot help the interest that he peaks in me as i glance over at his thin brows curved with a tentative concern that does nothing but question me with a naivity stamped all over his forehead- one that refuses my terms of rationalization and drives me crazy because of it. "y-your pants."
"what about them?"
the question panics him, and it's clear by the way the mocha-skinned boy seems to cramp up a bit.
cute.
"i'm taking them off." he says, almost determinedly, his eyes wide as he clearly waits for me to approve of the action, but i don't. instead, i watch him- i watch the way nerve tickles his adam's apple as he swallows his own exasperation and the way his chocolate brown eyes avert from mine as his small hands once again take the lead. i can feel the way they rest ever so slightly upon my thighs as he shoves them even farther down than they were placed already in order to clean my wound.
the small boy completely turns his whole body, staring over hard at the wall as he completely discards the garment and quickly draws back the warmth of his hands that is now manifested in his flushed expression- one that slightly upsets me i cannot see.
