If I owned DGM, when Marie was holding Miranda in one of the last episodes, he would have kissed her.

Got Own?

Bruise

Chapter 9: Lacerations

"Come in!" I call when I hear a knock on the door. Kanda and I hadn't gotten back until midnight last night, but it was past noon now, and I was only just waking up. Well, that being I sat up and remained motionless for a good three minutes, because I went temporarily brain-dead. So tired!

The door opened quietly, and the boyfriend I have yet to see walked into my room, an outright livid expression encasing his normally cheerful face.

What did I do this time? I wonder, smiling like nothing was wrong, "Hey, Lavi! I've missed you!"

"Moron! Do you think that I'm stupid?!" he yelled, storming up to my bed, and I was wide awake now, my back pressed flush to the wall my bed was against. Hanging my head in obedience, I mumble, "No. What did I do?"

A scream bursts through my sealed lips as I'm struck in the side by something precise. Did Lavi shoot me? Cut me with a knife? I wilt like a flower silently, tears streaming my face as I fall to my side on the soft bed with my wounded left hip up, and I whisper, "I'm sorry for whatever it was!"

My eyes are squeezed shut, my body braced for another hit when I hear a sharp crack, and I momentarily wonder how he'd brought a whip into my bedroom unnoticed, but then he shouts, "A finder said that you slept with Kanda! Is that true?!"

Weakly shaking my head, I defend, "No, I didn't. We had to share a bed on the la―AHH!"

Lavi whips the leather across my chest twice, smiling sadistically as he says, "I guess it's time that I remind you how you belong to."

Eyes widening in fear, I immediately begin saying, "I'm yours, Master! You own me body and soul!"

My claims are stopped as I scream in pain again, panting because I knew that if he didn't hit me with something other than the whip, I would begin hyperventilating. I feel the thick material coil around my neck as the redhead forces my face into the mattress, straddling my hips with a knee between my shoulders, and I gasp for air, the restraint tightening.

His booming voice seemed far away while I struggled for oxygen, lungs contracting in need, and I was on the verge of passing out before the whip was removed from my throat. That is, until I felt it strike me repeatedly on the back, and I screech, blood running along my skin.

K-Kanda….

Oo_oO_Oo_oO

When I wake up, I don't have to look for the roses on my nightstand, the aroma of the blooms filling my room, but I could still smell the blood. I refused to move. I'm a hundred percent certain that I'm ripped again, and I have to have at least fifty lacerations from the whip. At least.

Truthfully, I'm not sure how long I'd endured the abuse, because there was morning sunlight streaming through my window, and I could only make that out barely from where my body was on its belly. There was an everlasting sting in my back, and I know it took most the grunt of the whip, but what was worse was that I'd promised Kanda to spare with him this afternoon. If I don't show up….

He can't find me like this, and I don't know how long before he's going to come looking for me.

Taking a breath and digging my nails into the bed, I push myself up, a strangled scream erupting from my raw throat, and I collapse, not helping myself since I had wounds on my chest, too, but I was already biting my lip to keep the screeches at bay. Misery held me in its clutch as I forced myself to sit up, but as soon as I got to my feet, I fell to the ground with a thud, crying softly.

The pain was unbearable as I shook and sobbed in the floor, the sheet that was stuck to the dried blood on my back draped over my naked and broken form, and I feel a light nibble on my ear. Opening my eyes, I saw a yellow ball hovering in front of me, and even though my vision was severely blurred from tears, I knew that it was Tim, flying next to me worriedly. Smiling pathetically, I choke out, "It's okay, Tim. I'm okay."

My reply was a soft whack on the side of my head, and I close my eyes again, not knowing what to do. Obviously, I wasn't strong enough to power through this myself, and I couldn't really just lie here, waiting for the wounds to heal. No one would help me without taking me to the infirmary…except….

No! I was not going to let Kanda see me like this! I wouldn't let that hap―

"Oi, Moyashi! You were supposed to be in the training room a half hour ago, moron!"

My heart sunk to the bottom of my stomach as I try my best to steady my voice, "I won't be able to do that for a few days."

"What the heck happened?! Why do you sound like that?"

The worry in his voice surprised me, and I was about to reply when I coughed, the wetness telling me that there was blood in it before I spat it out onto the already stained carpet. That was all it took for the door to open, and Kanda was silent, waiting until I told him to close the door before he actually did it.

"M-Moyashi."

I don't say anything, tears still flowing strong, and he kneels down in front of me, wiping them away gently, "What happened?"

"I-I fell," I lie, failing horrendously, but the bluenette doesn't seem to care. Instead, he suggests exactly what I was trying to avoid, "I'm taking you to the infirmary."

"No!" I squeak before coughing up more blood. "Please…anything but t-that."

"Then what do you want me to do? You're bleeding really heavily."

Struggling to push myself up, I crack, "J-just help me…to the bathroom…."

My arms give out from under me, and I await a hard landing that never comes. Kanda supports me with his arms, and he silently lifts me, wincing as I scream in pain. Trying my best to be quiet, I bite on to the closest thing I could to stifle the cries, finding that to be Kanda's shoulder, but he doesn't react with anything more than a slight hitch in his breathing, and he carries me into the bathroom, laying me in the bathtub. The sheet is still around me, covering my scarred arms and private areas, and I attempt to close it around me, finding it impossible when Kanda begins to pry it off me. Terrified, I stutter, "W-What are y-you doing?!"

"I've seen it before, and if I don't get it off of you, I can't clean your wounds," he deadpans, finally tugging the white and red blanket off from me. That's when he just stares at me, his eyes filled with shock as he takes in the severity of the lacerations and my ugly scars, and he opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off hoarsely, "Before you ask, I'm a cutter."

Silence fills the air save for my labored breathing, and Kanda finally snaps back to reality, reaching to the other end of the tub to turn on the faucet. Cold water laps at my legs and thighs, creeping higher, but it steadily warms until I hiss in pain as hot water attempts to corrode my wounds. I quickly forget about this when I feel a warm hand on my chest, jolting momentarily, but I relax under Kanda's touch, his hand cupped to splash my skin before rubbing the flesh to rid it of the dried, crusted blood.

My knuckles are past white as I grip the sides of the tub in agony, silent tears falling, and the samurai continues to graze my wounds lightly, somehow managing to clean the gashes without reopening them. After a while, I roll to my side, biting back a scream, and Kanda begins in my back, asking, "You really aren't going to tell me who gave you these?"

"No one did," I lie, gasping when he purposely is rougher than necessary. "Dang it, Kanda!"

"I don't taking lying very well," he mutters. More water seeps into my skin, and I finally begin to feel the pain ease as I say, "Oh well. I'm not going to tell you anything."

"Why not?"

"Why would I?"

The bluenette's silent for a moment, his actions stopping, and I quietly whimper at the loss of his hands on my flesh. While he's not doing anything, I eye my razor in the corner of my tub, recalling how good it felt to drag it across my skin two days ago, and I begin to reach for it, ignoring the blazing pain in the lesions on my arms. My fingers were less than a few centimeters away from the cutting device when a large hand snatched it, a clatter sounding, and I know it was somewhere in the floor on the other side of the bathroom. Depressed, I slump back down into the hot water, slightly angry that my source of relief was denied from me, and I growl, "Why did you do that?"

"I'm not letting you cut yourself, moron!" he almost shouted, and I cringe, trying desperately to curl in on myself, but every time I tried, I cried out in pain from my rip and lacerations. Lowly, I grumble, "Jerk."

Again, I jolt when he places his hand on my hip lightly, and he says, "Explain to me why I should let you cut."

Rolling over, I bite my lip to prevent my screams, and I say, "Because you aren't supposed to care about me. Why does it matter to you if I cut?"

"I…" he trails off, unable to answer the question, and I patiently wait for a good three minutes, but he never replies, just continues to clean my wounds until the blood was gone. Kanda fetches my underwear for me, but the problem was where I would sit. Eventually, the samurai carries me to the vanity, setting me on the marble top carefully, and I tell him that the gauze is under the sink.

I'm amazed by how gentle he was being with me as he bandaged the gashes, but I knew that he was staring at my scars, and I ask, "Do you think they're ugly?"

He doesn't need further clarification on what I was talking about, and he shakes his head, "No, I don't."

"Why not?" I ask, confusion making my head spin. Silence fills the air until he finishes with applying the gauze to one of the wounds, and he gently puts his hand under my chin, looking me in the eyes, "Nothing about you is ugly. Compared to you, an angel looks hideous."

"K-Kanda…" I whisper, heat rising in my cheeks, and he leans closer to me, giving me time to react to his lips closing in on mine. Our skin barely brushed, almost like a feather, but Kanda quickly pulled back, looking to the side shamefully, and I touch my lips, wondering if I did something wrong.

After a moment, the bluenette began to dress my wounds once again, not making eye contact, and I quietly ask, "What did I do?"

"Why are you always the one to do something wrong?" he muttered, focusing on his work as he carefully turns me to sit cross-legged while facing the mirror, and I heard him take in a breath. "These…you'll need stitches for these, Aren."

I jump slightly, "Did you…did you just call me by my name?"

"No," he growled.

"Yes, you did."

"Shut up. Did you hear me? You'll need stitches."

Sighing, I hang my head, "I heard you fine. Can't you do it?"

"I don't have any experience with it," he said, bandaging the less severe ones. Shaking my head, I say, "I don't care about experience as long as you know how to do it. If they weren't on my back, I'd do it myself."

"No numbing?"

"That's why I have a razor," I mutter. "Guess I'll be in even more pain, because you won't le―"

"I'm not letting you cut," Kanda says sternly. Frustrated, I say, "Why not?"

"Because I hate to see you hurt!" he finally shouts, making me freeze, but I quickly regain my composure, eyeing him through the mirror even though he wasn't meeting my gaze.

At least someone does.

He finishes my bandaging in silence, and then he goes into my bedroom to find my stitching kit.

"Are you sure that you want me to do this?" Kanda asks for the hundredth time, and I nod, bracing myself with my hands on the mirror. The tenseness in my body only increases when I feel the skin of my back being stabbed and skewered over and over, but I don't make a sound as silent tears flow down my cheeks, dripping off my chin and onto my ankles. There were only two short wounds that needed stitches, the deepness making up for the lack of length, but I knew that Kanda was only done with one as he began on the next. This one was on my side, going right across some of my worst bruises, and as I felt the pain become almost unbearable, I whimper, "I-It hurts."

"I know. I'll be done in a second," the bluenette cooed if he can actually coo. One last poke and it was over.

"You're not going to tell me who did it, are you?" he said as I turn back around, gritting my teeth, and I shake my head. Stroking my cheek softly with his thumb while the rest of his hand is caressing my neck, he continues, "And it doesn't have anything to do with the roses in your bedroom?"

Shake.

"You don't trust me?"

Shake.

"But you still won't tell me."

Nod.

"Do you think that I can't see what's going on?"

Shaking my head for the last time, I say, "I want you to leave it alone. I trust you enough to let you see me like this, but why isn't that enough for you?"

"Because…because…" he trails off, looking away from me, and he supports himself on his hands braced on the vanity, the top part of his body looming over the lower part on mine. Finally meeting my gaze, he says, "Because I can't stand the thought of someone hurting you. I just…I just want to drive whoever did this face down into the ground!"

His knuckles are white, and as I stare into his eyes, I can't see anything in the cobalt pools other than anger, but I don't understand. Why would he feel like this for me? He's supposed to hate me, and just because I have undecided feelings toward him doesn't change the fact that Lavi's my boyfriend and I love him.

Then why am I leaning forward, even though it felt like I was being shot by a thousand akumas' bullets? Why aren't I swatting away his hand as he tilts my chin up? Why am I allowing myself to be swept away, closing my eyes and parting my lips? Why am I shivering in anticipation as Kanda's breath hits my lips, smelling of mint and soba?

Why am I so disappointed when the kiss I was awaiting so anxiously never comes?

Author Note: I'm sorry it took longer to do this chapter, but it's hard to write really intense times like this! What did you like about this chapter? What did you hate? Please, Please, PLEASE tell me in a review!