"You're an idiot."
The whisper smoothes over the curve of his ear, warm like breath that isn't there, and he shivers, groans, and leans his head back against the colourful sliding door, arms clenched around his stomach. A phantom touch of nails scrapes over his bare skin, and it would feel good, were he not in so much pain.
His nose wrinkles, his lips raise, and he wants to tell the other to go away. To leave him alone in pain, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. The other does not, painted gold lips curving up into a sharp smile, as he releases a deep, mirthless chuckle, crimson nails tracing the lines of his face, around his eyes, down his nose.
"Do they thank you?" he asks, lips moving over his cheeks, smug and amused and possessive and jealous. "The blood you spill, the pain you endure. Do they notice? Do they care?" For a brief moment, blood red eyes narrow at him in anger, beyond fury. Then the thunder in his eyes smoothes out. And he smiles.
"I do not need thanks." he hisses, the answer weak between gasps of pain, blood leaking out between his fingers, and he grits his sharp teeth, breathing hard through his nose. The other places a gentle, placating kiss against his brow, once more rubbing his arms above his stomach. "Humans are fools. They do not know to thank me."
"That is why you are an idiot."
He tries to hold back the hands that snake beneath his kimono, groaning softly because that dark, copper, bronze, gold skin is hot, so pleasantly hot, and he wants to melt. But it hurts, and his blood pumps out freely over that dark skin, slicking dexterous fingers, painting the pale expanse of his chest in red.
"I'll heal you." the other says, gently, as though speaking to a child, eyes narrowed and lips curved until he looked condescending. "I'll heal you because I've explained to you many times that you're not allowed to be hurt." His fingers slide over his wounds, almost gentle, almost soothing. It feels almost as though he reaches inside, worming through his flesh and finds the source of his wound, and yanks it free. It hurts, and he cries out, nails digging into bronze arms and wanting to tell him to stop.
"I don't need you to heal me." he gets only a smile, and a piece of glass is tossed off to the side, landing on the battered tatami mats with a clink. Fading sunlight glows in obsidian, scarlet eyes, making them flash.
"You're an idiot." he says again, stroking his sweaty wisps of hair, smiling in that superior way. He growls at him, eyes falling shut to sleep, the flow of his blood slowing. He wants to tell him he did not need his help, that he did not need him or his healing. But he's too tired. Painted gold lips twist into a smile as though to contradict that train of thought. "As stupid as a human I suppose. But just like them, you need not thank me."
Then he's gone, leaving just the ghost of a kiss on his mouth and a sharp laugh in the air.