That's the first thing you thought when you woke up in a bed that was not your own. An unfocused glance caught peeling grey walls and a naked lightbulb that filled the room with a restless hum. You could feel the springs in the mattress beneath you, the bedpost squeaking on its hinges with every movement.
Troubled with a pang of nostalgia, you focused on the long crack running the length of the ceiling, smaller fissures branching off it like a spider's web.
Were they trying to provoke you by putting you in your old room? Reminding you of the life you thought you'd left behind for good.
What a twisted turn of fate. That's what Akutagawa had said. Fate. Hah! You simply called it dumb luck. But then again, if you hasn't come back from your vocation a day earlier, things would have been much different to what they were now. You wouldn't have found Chuuya in your apartment. You wouldn't be back in this shit hole.
You began to fiddle with the white material wrapped tightly around your wrists, giving a dry chuckle. These bandages reminded you of your mafia days; more specifically, of a man who used to wrap most of his body in them.
A knock on the door spiked your heartbeat, snapping you out of your thoughts. You watched it grate open to admit a familiar red-head. "Oh good, you're awake," he observed, moving further into the room and shutting the door behind him. "I need to make a few things clear."
"I'm not going to try and escape, if that's what you're hinting at," you informed him. "Not sure if you've noticed, but I'm not really in the right state to fight off the Mafia."
Chuuya mirrored your sarcastic smile. "Still haven't lost that sharp tongue of yours."
"Sharp tongue, sharper knives."
The executive's grin dwindled for a moment, his eyes adopting a nostalgic haze. "That used to be your motto-of-sorts, no?"
You squeezed out a sigh, lowering your gaze. "Yes, it did," you said faintly. "After every kill."
Playing with the mafia was a dangerous game. A game of sharp tongues and even sharper knives.
Those who messed with you deserved what was coming to them. They were weak. You were strong. That's how it was, back then.
But with your current predicament, it felt like the tides were starting to turn.
Would you be the prey, instead of the hunter? Was this some kind of twisted karma? Atonement for your sins? Killed by those whom you once swore your life too.
"We're not going to kill you, if that's what you're thinking."
You looked at him sharply, biting hard on your tongue. Hard enough to draw a bitter taste into your mouth.
Chuuya exhaled a long breath, waving his hand in an idle manner. "I mean, if it were up to some people in the mafia, you'd have been shot ten times by now. But it looks like someone has a soft spot for you."
Pressing your lips into a thin line, you refrained from questioning him.
He was taunting you. And you had no intention of giving him the reaction he seeked.
You had confided in Chuuya once; you had sought his council, his company, as a friend.
Now, Chuuya would see you paid for your betrayal, one way or another.
The tides had turned.
And none were in your favour.
"I'm surprised you chose to stay."
You bared your teeth at the smug bastard before you. "You think I had a fucking choice?"
Chuuya fell quiet for a long while after that, propping his hip against the doorframe, one foot hiked up against the wall and his arms crossed over his chest. The rim of hit hat dipped over his eyes, only the tip of his nose and his pursed lips visible beneath the flitting shadows.
Your eyes fluttered closed, exhausted.
It felt like you hadn't slept in days. Your whole body felt haggard. Ill. Completely and utterly drained.
A brisk knock at the door startled you both out of your silent contemplation. Pushing himself off the doorframe, he grasped the handle with his long fingers and pulled it partially open. Although you couldn't see who he was talking to, the voice was undoubtedly female, speaking with an authoritive edge.
"Akutagawa-Senpai wants to see the girl."
Chuuya cast you a sidelong glance, shutting the door without responding. "I suppose you heard that?"
You gave a clipped nod, barely able to keep your head up. "What's a girl gotta do to get some goddamn rest around here?" You snapped.
Gripped with a sudden nausea, you slipped off the edge of the bed with a sharp breath through your nose. Your ankle twisted at an awkward angle as your bare feet connected with the floor, knees almost giving way.
The whole time, Chuuya just stood there and watched.
You waved your hand in a short arc, watching with a smirk as Chuuya was dragged back against the wall, shadows snapping at his face. He growled at you, eyes flashing dangerously.
"We'd best not keep him waiting, hm?"
Knocking past you, he flung the door wide and stomped across the threshold. You followed blindly, dark corridors blurring past your peripheral vision as Chuuya took you through a complex maze of hallways. Those familiar strip lights spilt an eerie white glow through the passages, shuddering every so often as they dimmed and sparked with sporadic surges of electricity.
The room Chuuya led you to was, as expected, sparsely furnished. Akutagawa was already seated at a simple mahogany coffee table, a dainty china cup held between his fingers. You broke into a dry smile. He always did like his tea.
"Sit down."
Ignoring Chuuya snickering behind you, you lifted your chin and collapsed into the only other chair, your back sinking into the soft leather.
"What am I doing here, Akutagawa? I thought you would've killed me by now."
The ravenette sipped his tea wordlessly, fixing you with a blank stare over the rim of his cup.
"You think I'm weak, no? So why am I not dead?"
Akutagawa sighed impatiently, sloping forward in his seat. "The weak will die. Die, and make way for others," he recited in a hushed voice, setting his cup onto the table. "You are not weak. But you are weakened. And you are here to build up your strength, and prove your worth, or I will kill you."
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