no way out ||Inutake||

Chapter 7

...

Inui opened his mouth, watching as the smoke naturally flow out into the already intoxicated air.

Takemichi felt his eyes getting dry, the tears that he'd just finished pouring out were drying up, and yet he couldn't close his eyes. The man continued to bash in Naoto's hand, blood splurting out of the rips that were starting to form with the pressure constantly dropping on it.

Naoto's voice was starting to get raspy with each ear-splitting scream that he forced out. His assaulter stopped, not because he was tired, but because he had to take a moment to wipe the splatters of blood off his cheek.

After failing at getting his face cleaned and instead smearing it everywhere because of his gloves, the man turned his head toward Inui, almost as if a mindless robot. The blond took a moment, before calling out to him,

"ICEPICK!"

Not a moment later, the man on the stage took out, suitably enough, an icepick. Before Naoto even had enough time to catch his breath, his eyes shot open, the needle pierced his shoulder blade.

Takemichi watched in horror as he yanked it out, jabbing it back into the younger forearm. He was going to be sick.

...

This was all his fault, wasn't it?

A brief memory of what Inui and Koko had said back at the club where they met Taiju in. They were doing this to Naoto to get back at him.

Sick.
They were nothing short of the worst of the worst.

There was no hope that he had left to spare for the two, every conscious feeling in his body started to fill up with rage.

How... dare they?

How dare they drag someone as innocent as Naoto into their stupid fucking game of torture? Everything was their fault...

Takemichi ripped his eyes off the now bloodied, and torn-up body of Naoto and forced them up to seer his glare into Inui. It took a moment, but the blond grinned, returning his gaze.

"Hanagaki... Don't be rude now. We took the time to treat you... and you're not eating?..." The blond twisted his head back toward Naoto. Takemichi gasped, his breath hitching over and over again as his eyes once again fixated on the horror before him. The man twisted Naoto's knee, a crack bouncing off of the open walls of the warehouse. The black haired strained his voice, the scream already running dry.

Takemichi bit his lip. Where was he? Where was his mind? Was he just going to do nothing but sit around and watch one of his best friends get tortured just because he was starved for a week?

As if.

He was Hanagaki Takemichi he doesn't give up, he pushes and pushes until he snaps.

With a sudden jerk of his head, he interlinked his leg with Inui's, pulling it toward him as the older lost his balance from being caught off guard. The grip on his head loosened, his head falling back, Takemichi took the chance to bite it, sinking into his teeth as much as he could, the most harm that he could post to the older in that situation was, unfortunately, just that petty.

The blond winced at the pain, yet, just one second later, he was wearing his normal, monotone expression. Not waiting for the inevitable pain that he was in for as revenge for such a thing, he twisted his torso, the linking chain between his cuffs being on his side as they tightened around the worker who was holding it down's hand, he stumbled back at the sudden burn, on his wrists.

Regaining his composure, Takemichi pivoted on his food, pushing himself up onto the couch, getting ready to hike himself over the couch, when Koko stepped in.