Wounds
Part Nine

For the last few weeks, the pattern has gone back to the same thing as before. I sit in his room when it's well into the night and I wait for him to come in later. I've gotten to a point where I'm more familiar with his room than my own and I've even taken to bringing books and placing them by the window so I can read on those nights where he takes longer than I anticipate.

Tonight is one of those nights. Usually, he's stumbling through the door with a Finder who hasn't been tipped off—and these days, they're plentiful with how many of them die. It's a sad fate for them and even worse when I think about how Kanda and I are denying them a possible last shot at the pleasures of the flesh. It's kind of rude, because Kanda knows the outcome even as he strings another victim along. He brings them in, lets them touch him and get him just about to the bed before I stand up and demand they leave. If they have a fit, I simply throw them out physically.

When the door closes, I always turn on him and deliver him to the uncomfortable end that he claims he doesn't want. It's been a bit different since I broke the pattern by letting someone take over again. I haven't done that since; because I don't think I can stomach it, let alone see him try not to have a mental breakdown. This is the rhythm we've both submitted ourselves to and I wonder what I will do if that changes.

A disturbing thought crosses my mind and I realize that I've become invested to the point of fault and I might actually have created the deeper connection that I have tried to avoid with people. I didn't want people to get close to me, but I've damned myself by getting close to one. There's a difficulty I'm finding in separating myself from Kanda and I wish I could maintain the professional distance while I try to alleviate his misery.

It only makes me realize that my own happiness depends on him and how he responds to this long project of forcing worth into him. I don't know if I'm anywhere close to the turning point, but it really seems like he's teetering on the edge of it and I want to push.

Every time I'm with him—caressing him, whispering to him, and blending myself into his person—I adopt a softer touch. I've learned to subtly change the way I comply to his demands every night. When he's bowed under me, I'm running my fingers along his skin, just to feel the way my warm fingers send shivers along his flesh. I'm slowly changing it into something that he understands as good and not something he understands as necessary.

Part of me is curious as to how this even began with him. When did he start to let himself slip? When did his skewed version of human contact spiral out of control like it did when I accidentally saw more than I should—or ever wanted to see. Why did Kanda even let me be part of this in any fashion? This man could have long ago banned me from being anywhere near his living space, but he didn't. In fact, he invited me—like he wanted me to see. Was his situation an assertion of control and want, or was it a cry for help that I openly responded to? With Kanda it was hard to really tell, but from the very beginning I had my heart convinced that this wasn't just Kanda's strange fickleness.

Regardless, I wait for him to arrive like he usually does and I pass the time watching the rain fleck colors across the window. There's nothing I feel like reading and even if I did, I wouldn't want to get into it when he's supposed to arrive soon. Any moment he will enter the room, bringing the uncomfortable part of the evening—before we both end up on his bed, making the springs protest.

No longer can I deny that I actually enjoy that part. The heat of Kanda's body and the way he moves are alluring things and everything about him really draws me to him until I want this for the sake of this. It makes me curse myself, because that isn't a reasonable desire. Kanda isn't a partner to keep; he can't even make the mental connection that being passed around like currency isn't good for his mental stability.

These lines of thought are the reason I don't notice the door click open and the reason why I blink and suddenly there he is. It almost scares me into jumping, but I catch myself before he gets a chance to really dig into me for it. Within that second, I'm already steeling myself for the act we play and I'm on my feet.

Except, something is different this time. Something is wrong. The door is closed and locked, from what I can tell by looking at the handle; and Kanda is there in front of me—giving me an unsettling look. There are no sounds in the room but breathing and my eyes are searching out the missing factor.

Kanda did not bring someone with him this time.

"Kanda?" I speak hesitantly as he moves over to his bed and sits on it. He looks weary and somewhat hollow. I know it's not a physical exhaustion, but a mental one. Yet his answer is still as denying as ever.

"I'm just tired. I'm taking a break for tonight. That's all."


A/N: It took me how long to edit this. ffs I need to get my ass in gear.