Day 3
Theme: Shadow
Wounds
Part One
He doesn't notice the trail behind him. Every step creates clicks against the polished marble—stone floors he's always hated because they don't agree with the heels of his boots. The marble glistens up at him, while he shuffles numbly over it. He's not thinking. It's too much effort and he's much too tired to wrap his head around anything at the moment.
The dull, aching pain that fills his senses is pushed back by force. If he doesn't let it bother him, then it will be gone without any issues. He's taken wounds that would kill a weaker man—or rather, a man with a normal body. He's okay with that, though. It feeds his ego to know he can't be killed by any ordinary means. His enemies would have to go out of their way to bring him down and he was still likely to get back up after.
So the red that trails behind him is forgotten, if he was even aware of it at all. It splashes against the darkness of his form. Everything about him is dark; his eyes, hair, and the clothing that hugs his body. He's comparable to the grim reaper, some people would say. Silent and fearsome, yet almost poetically haunting.
He believes in the power of his own hand, but even he sometimes falters.
The door knob gives in when he presses the length of his body to the door and twists it. He can barely see, cloaked in the darkness that protects him from the gaze of those who wouldn't understand why he was doing what he was doing. He shuts the door behind him, staggering in the dark. Not fumbling from the sightlessness that he's plagued with, but the cause of the warm fluid that soaks into his white shirt under his jacket.
Burning sensations in his legs cause him to nearly give out and take up residence on the floor. His brain can only think about the feeling of the cold stone and how it almost seems appealing. Consciousness slipping in and out and he just wants to sleep until the wound disappears.
"K…Kanda?"
He hears the voice in the haven of darkness. He knows this isn't his room. Even in the dark, he could feel the difference in the living space. This room is warm, welcoming and always left unlocked for him when he's due to return in the dead of night.
"Oh god, you're wounded… Let me ge—"
"Will you shut up, beansprout?" His choice was just above a whisper and cracked, but he was heard. "I just…need sleep." He leaned into the younger boy's hold and drifted, thankful for the darkness that embraced them both.
Thanks for the reviews guys! They're short, but they're enjoyable to write. I hope they're enjoyable to read!