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"Whoa, what happened to you?!" Yuki yelled as Shuu stumbled into the room, her clothes torn to shreds, revealing parts that almost made the boy go blind. (What a perverted way to start a story.)
Dried blood was splattered all over her cheeks and her nails were caked with dirt. As she frantically put on the last of her still intact, clean and not bloodstained T-shirt with Asano's portrait printed on it, more blood soaked through the fabric, making her scream and wail about her "pitiful husband's" wellbeing. Her hair was plastered all over her neck with swear, and her jeans, once ankle length, were shorn off at the shins. On her feet was only one shoe. And it was her favourite pair of Converses.
In short, she looked like she had been wrestling with the supervillain of the city.
Actually? She did.
Yuki frantically got a huge roll of bandages and started to patch up the non-life threatening wounds. Chiding his roommate's carelessness at getting hit by a car, he tried not to let the truth slip from his tongue.
She is the supervillain, after all.
And he had barely managed to cover up his own wounds before she crashed in like a half-dead whale in need of an ambulance. Yuki secretly hoped the bandages weren't showing from under his sleeve. He was just putting on his running shoes to cover up the huge gash on his foot.
He just didn't want to ruin their relationship. He just didn't want to get the chance to confess, only to break the ice by telling her he knew she was the villain.
She is the villain, after all, she robbed him of his heart.
———
Shuu didn't feel good at all, too. She didn't want to hide all these crappy burdens from Yuki. She wanted to be able to tell him about all the funny stories of the hero screwing up like a specific, stupid roommate of hers all the time. She wanted to share all the things that happened whenever she plotted world domination or inventing a machine that could bring fictional characters alive but needed the Satanic sacrifice of someone.
Of course, she knew, if she told Yuki right now it would only reveal that she's the supervillain. He would probably kill her on sight.
He is the superhero, after all.
The warm feeling of his fingers brushed against her shoulder as he chided her softly but firmly. The bandages closed in on the cut layer by layer, stopping the bleeding.
The same wound could vaguely be seen on his arm, just about jutting out from his left sleeve. He was obviously fidgeting as he tried to readjust the bandages that didn't look right to his OCD. The faint, metallic smell of blood trailed into her nose, and she was sure it wasn't hers.
"What happened to your arm?" She decided to break the silence.
"Oh," he flinched at the question, "Well... I had to rescue a cat from the top of the Empire State Building, you know. I fell off and almost bashed my butt. The cat was alright, though."
What a ridiculous story, she thought, everyone knows that you can't fall off the Empire State Building without dying. Yuki needed to improve his lying skills.
But she didn't want to break it to him. She didn't want to be the one to tell him she was the villain he was looking for. She didn't want to, especially when she likes her and is almost sure he likes her back.
He is the hero, after all, he is her hero.
//It's been a while since I wrote Sorenyuki fanfiction. I'm getting rusty and relying on writing prompts :')//
