☆Tokyo Debunker☆ [imagine]

Sweets (MC x Jiro)

(First time writing an MC who doesn't speak, I hope I properly captured the essence of non-verbal friends out there. I have Zenji and Lyca left, and I will be doing theirs according to the poll in the Romeo AU chapter. Gosh I have so much dreams and too little time.)

[Warning! Mentions of needles but not in detail. Slight mentions of injection process.]

The first time you received an injection, it left more than just a mark on your arm. The feeling of its toothpick metal tip piercing into your skin began a lifelong aversion to needles. It was all because you had been picked by fate's careful hands to be the guinea pig of an amateur nurse. You were sure his thick black rims were nothing but an accessory to his poor vision. Why else would he have been poking into the wrong vein so many times? The younger you should have gotten a medal for persevering through the pain. By the time he found the right capillary, you had become sworn enemies with both the newbie nurse, and the weapon he wielded. Alas, the only reward you received was a strange tasting lollipop.

From then on, you kept yourself healthy and fit enough to steer clear of injections, that was until — fate found a way to make you miserable again.

Yes, indeed, a near grown adult like you, was actually about to have a panic attack in Mortkranken's clinic, all because you were going to get an immunity jab. Still, you needed to act like you had it together, in order not to receive another kind of jab, the sarcastic and taunting kind from the dagger-tongued doctor, Yuri Isami.

Speaking of Yuri Isami, he was nowhere to be seen today, it was just Jiro, you and the dreadful needle, quietly mocking you by the side table.

"Arm,"

Jiro said.

Hesitantly, you laid your limb on the table and Jiro yanked it straight. With an alcohol pad, he swabbed the inner area of where your elbows bent, and your vein protruded from the pressure he applied. The boy glanced up, briefly making eye contact with you, and you looked away bearing a tinge of guilt. This appointment was long overdue, and if there was any possibility that an expression had been on the boy's face, it must've been irritation.

"There is no point avoiding it,"

He spoke as if he knew what you were thinking.

"Drag this out and you'll die of the curse."

Of course, it wouldn't be Jiro if he didn't say something so blunt at the end. Though, right now, dying of a curse didn't seem so bad if it meant you could push this horror appointment further back.

You watched as he drew a blue liquid from a small glass vial, flicking it at the tip to get rid of the air bubbles. No matter how skillful the doctor before you was, it was unnerving that Jiro, too, wore black frames like the nightmarish newbie. The only difference was his blank expression, not looking one bit fazed.

"Relax your hand,"

Jiro said when he noticed your clenched fist.

"Don't blame me if the needle breaks in your arm."

Ouch. From both the thought and his lack of empathy, but it worked well enough for you to force yourself to loosen your arm muscles.

Jiro's latex-gloved hands pressed on the skin of your upper arm, and you shut your eyes right on cue.

A cold sensation tingled up from your forearms, then there was pressure again. Using an eye to peek at the situation, you found the injected area patched up and Jiro was all the way over at the sharps container, disposing of the used needle.

You gaped at your arm, even touching the spot to test if it would hurt, but it didn't. How miraculous! You clasped your hands together in gratitude as you bowed to the tall boy. If only Jiro had been the attending nurse, your 12-year-old self would never have been traumatised.