Fixing The Broken One | BroCon

XII. No Moonlight

Rin gave a low hiss as another cotton ball was pressed gently onto her skin, the brief electric touch sent a jolting pain down her spine. The bruises on her skin were wrapped in clean white bandages and the scratch that the sharp knife left on her neck was covered in a waterproof bandage. Rin was left to relish in the pain that alcohol-soaked cotton balls brought to the small wounds on her arms. She was sitting on her daybed and quietly letting Masaomi tend her wounds as gently as he could and without him passing out in the middle of it. Ema was holding her left hand, tracing comforting circles on her skin and leaving tracks of goosebumps on her forearm. The rain outside still dripped and dropped without an end, the wind whirling a sound of sorrow and thunders blasting like a pounding headache. She winced again as the alcohol meet her open wound, leaving a numb sensation that she identify as pain.

"—and we're done!" Masaomi wiped a relieved sweat on his forehead, gathering the tools and excess materials back onto the box, Ema was cleaning the trashes left behind, "Well, you should get some sleep now."

Rin nodded in reply, arms crossing on her lap as she bid him a quiet thank you while the man walked out of the door with a smile. Ema lied down on her plush pillows, savoring in the coldness as Rin lied beside her, hands still tangling together in reminiscence of their childhood days. Ema laughed an airy laugh, filled without a single burden, a laugh that Rin could easily identify as a child's. A nostalgic laugh that she knew she used to give Ema. A part of her missed the carelessness.

"Are you sleepy?" Rin asked as Ema gave a groggy nod in reply, Rin knew how often Ema stayed up this week due to the amount of studying she forced upon herself, "Sleep then."

Ema smiled, pulling the covers up to her shoulders, letting it drape around the both of them in a warmth they have forgotten a long time ago, "Alright then, but you go to sleep too."

"Of course.

The auburn haired girl let out a yawn, snuggling herself comfortably in the bed. Her hand unconsciously finding its way on the top of her head, ruffling her brown locks into tangled knots.

"Rin-nee," Ema opened her eyes, "For whatever that happened today, I want you to know that you can always rely on me. Better yet, you could try relying on the others — they were worried too, Rin-nee."

Rin merely hummed in reply, knowing where this kind of talk would lead. Ema was young and youth is often paired with naivety and innocence — two traits that Rin didn't have. Ema was easy to be trusted and she easily trust others while Rin is the opposite, she doesn't know when or who to trust. To be fair, not a lot people trust her. They were always the opposites of each others.

"You can rely on me, Rin-nee." Ema mumbled, "Even when we're not blood related."

Seconds ticked away and before Rin could even notice it, Ema was fast asleep. Rin smiled fondly at her sister, stroking away a strand of chocolate hair that stole every heart away. She tried to close her eyes and control her breathing and to somehow fall into a deep sleep. But the rhythmic sound of rain and everything that comes in between, won't let her — Rin sighed, letting go of her sister's hand to close the curtains of her room.

She was a coward blaming the serene rainfall whilst it was the flashes of memories raining down on her that stole her sleep away. If tonight was to be another sleepless night then, it was unavoidable, perhaps. The way those rough hands touched her and gripped her lingered in a distasteful way. It was stealing some breath away from her lung in an unpleasant way. Her tears welled up and they almost spilled—

A knock suddenly rang through, two of them, breaking apart the static silence of rain and heartbeat, "Are you awake?"

Rin blinked away her tears, walking to the door with reluctant steps as she ignored the thunder matching the jolts of her heart, opening the door to reveal hair as dark as midnight and eyes an electrifying shade of purple. It probably would be fair to say that she was half-asleep at this point, mumbling sentences she never knew her pea-sized of a brain could produce. The man scratched the back of his neck, the bangs usually covering one of his eyes was slicked back —in a not good way (but not that it was bad) — and the rest was tousled crazily on top of his head. He looked like a wreck and she could detect a hint of red wine on his breath (and an obnoxious crimson stain on his plaid dress shirt). It was rare to see him look so helpless and almost unkept, he had an image of a refined person.