Toxic || SakuAtsu

12.

reADDD ( ﾉ ﾟｰﾟ)ﾉﾉﾉﾉﾉﾉ

SAKUSASENPAIDAISUKI-

---

Sakusa was taking his time, engulfing in the droning sounds of his comrades and the constant motion.

Gripped in his pale, slender fingers was a manicure file, a pocket-sized one that was currently shaping his left ring finger, sliding back and forth rhythmically watching as the edge swallowed the whites of his nails cajolingly.

He blew on it, and resumed the action in pure concentration while oblivious to the hesitant but wide stares from everyone.

"Hey, Sakusa-san..."

He looked up and saw Kuroo in front of him, his gaze pulled and stance rigid. A thick tension spiked up in the air in the sudden confrontation and every eye in the little underground cell was either on Kuroo or on Sakusa; waiting, watching, anticipating.

"Don't we need to hurry?" His voice came out hesitant, "Atsumu might be in trouble."

A deep silence hung in the room, the little rustle of Sakusa's file from his monotonous action was all that was heard before he spoke up.

"I think Miya is handling the situation a lot better than we expect."

As soon as he let that answer out, he immediately regretted it. No one responded, no one even bothered to move.

It was such a baseless assumption or comment to give. Very insensitive too - he grimaced.

With every mission, every deployment, every task - simple or not - came an uncertain death warrant; it could be the last time they would see each other, their partners. The possible outcomes were terrifyingly infinite - so many things could've happened to the blond over the span of nearly three days.

The only fixed reassurance that they all had was the worst case scenario.

That he was probably dead.

Being reckless was out of the page - every move, every thought had to be analysed and confirmed for a 100 percent efficient outcome. And what had just came out of his mouth confirmed for an all out war.

If there was something that Sakusa practised almost religiously it was routine and discipline. He recalled the time he served under a certain senior, nearly three years ago, whose morals of perfect regimen shaped several factions he passed.

Kita Shinsuke; one of the most sophisticated men in the underworld, was a person who not many people really noticed - he was always inside the top tower, looking down with evaluation, assessing every mission and predicting the future as far ahead as anyone else.

Sakusa thought it a complete honour to have been working under his wing and being instructed by him was what - he admits - made him who he was presently.

He will be disappointed in me if I fail this.

I won't, I won't fail. Definitely-

Ah, but you already did.

Sakusa's grip on the file tightened, he felt its seratted tip dig into his skin but at the same time he didn't.

You let your friends get hurt and let Atsumu get taken away-

The dark voices spiraled within his mind, further dragging him down, but if anything, it only made him want to rise up more.

To fight with resistance. To bubbled up against the pressure.