𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐑𝐮𝐢𝐧 X Reader (Dark/Angst)

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 ✶ 𝟎𝟓

When you step into Ritsu's apartment, it feels like you're entering a world completely different from your own. It's small—almost claustrophobic—with walls painted in a dull, washed-out color, barely lit by the fading evening sun that filters through a thin, old curtain. The furniture is sparse, the kind that looks second-hand, worn but clean. The place has a sense of order to it that surprises you. You were expecting a disaster, maybe a reflection of Ritsu's current emotional state, but everything is neatly in place. Modest. That's the word that comes to mind. It's modest, nothing like your own place.

A quick glance around is enough to note how different your lifestyles are. You keep everything spotless, organized, pristine. It's part of your nature, that obsessive need to keep control, but this... Ritsu's space is different. It speaks of survival, of making do with what little is available. Your heart races slightly as you realize the situation, how vulnerable he is right now. He's invited you inside. He trusts you enough to let you into this private, fragile part of his life.

You can't let this chance slip. You're in his house now. He let you in. And you're not leaving anytime soon.

Ritsu's voice breaks your thoughts as he shifts nervously beside you, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "It's... it's n-not much, I know..." He glances at you with that same tentative look, one that's begging for reassurance.

You offer a soft smile, though inside, your mind is racing, calculating every move. You had to handle him delicately. He was fragile, so breakable, and if you weren't careful, he'd slip through your fingers. But you wouldn't let that happen. Not when you were this close.

"It's fine, Ritsu," you say with a calming tone. "I'm just here to get you cleaned up, right? It's no big deal."

The tension in his shoulders loosens, just a little. He gives a tiny nod and leads you down a narrow hallway toward the bathroom. It's a shared space, clearly, used by the whole family, but like the rest of the apartment, it's relatively clean. The mirror above the sink is speckled with water spots, and the tiles are chipped, but everything seems functional.

Ritsu sits obediently on a small shower chair propped against the wall, his eyes avoiding yours as if he's ashamed to be seen like this—small, hurt, vulnerable. You follow his quiet directions, rummaging through the cabinets until you find the first-aid supplies. They're basic—cheap bandages, a bottle of antiseptic, some cotton swabs. You grab a clean washcloth, wetting it under the faucet, the cool water running over your fingers as you squeeze it out.

You kneel down in front of him, gently lifting his chin with your hand. The contact makes him flinch slightly, but he doesn't pull away. He just watches you, wide-eyed, as if he can't quite believe someone is here, doing this for him. You start wiping away the dried blood from his lip, the water darkening as it soaks into the fabric. The sight of the blood... it sends a shiver down your spine, lighting a warmth in your chest. It looks... good on him. The contrast of the crimson against his pale skin, the way it marked him. It makes you feel something—something primal.

He winces, letting out a soft whimper when you brush over a particularly tender spot, but he stays still, obedient. So trusting.

"How bad is it?" you ask, your voice soft but filled with concern. Your eyes flick up to meet his. "Is it just your face, or... are there other places that need attention?"

Ritsu shifts uncomfortably, his hands fidgeting in his lap, and he lets out a shaky breath. "I-I've got some bruises... on my ribs and arms, but, um, n-nothing like my face." His voice is barely a whisper, and he doesn't meet your gaze.

You fight back a smirk. Good. You hoped you could get him to take his shirt off. "Alright," you murmur, running the cloth over his forehead, cleaning the shallow cut there. He tenses but doesn't say anything as you disinfect it, wincing as the antiseptic stings his skin.