[color=6ecff6][b]SOU MIYANE[/b][/color] - Southern District: The Don[hr] [hider=Crust] It was starting to crust on her sleeves. The fabric around her knees, where she was kneeling, and then some. One of paramedics accidentally smeared it when prying Miyane away, only slightly flinching at the slick that clung to her hand. The police didn't bother comforting her either. She had grown dull to the smell now. But the wetness was still there. Miyane trudged out the back door, no doubt the same way the psychopath had escaped. ([i]Escaped.[/i]) Went to the nearest lit storefront. Numbly croaked for the bathroom, not noticing the storeowner's mouth falling open, nor the well-dressed men dining in the back corner, collectively reaching for something in their coats. She locked herself in that dingy room. And she scrubbed. The sink ran red and her phone went off. Then it went off again, multiple times. Then she got a call. Everyone knew she didn't answer calls, only ever made them. Fuck. [b]> I saw the news > Are you ok? > We're waiting at the restaurant, I'll come over[/b] [b]> Call missed: Miori > Call missed: Miori > Now calling: Mio--[/b] Click. Miyane stared. She couldn't say she put much thought into her response, yet the minutes ticked diligently before she finally tapped something out. [color=6ecff6]> No.[/color] She just wanted to not have to deal with something this one night. The [b]">I can stay over if you want"[/b] pinged through and she had to stop herself from shattering the device against the sink. [color=6ecff6]> Don't.[/color] And she switched it off. Didn't need to, she knew Miori would have stopped anyway once she'd fulfilled the bare minimum of her sisterly duties, but the figurative barrier brought her comfort. She didn't want anyone in her head for her next task. [/hider] --- [color=6ecff6][b]SOU MIYANE[/b][/color] - Central District: Tenoroshi General Hospital Collab with [@ERode][hr] [hider=Flake] A plastic bag emblazoned with 'THE DON' was gently placed on Daehyun's bedside, the food likely gone cold during the journey to the hospital. [b]“<>”[/b] he smiled. The same kind he did whenever they ate with the CEO. The one from the days after their second break-up. Miyane felt her breath hitch. She scoffed and cast her gaze elsewhere. [color=6ecff6]"<>"[/color] It was half a bark, half a laugh, and Daehyun winced immediately after. What drugs coursed through his veins didn't remove the pang from his chest. [b]"<>"[/b] he responded, [b]"<>"[/b] Propping himself up with his uninjured elbow, he made an attempt at untying the plastic bag. She stepped forward to help, only realising the situation a second late. Only one arm. A generously filled unagi bowl. Crap, she didn't have to feed him, did she? [color=6ecff6]"<>"[/color] Daehyun figured it out eventually. His elbow may have been broken, but it was his non-dominant arm, and he could still prop the bowl against his cast while his right hand did the work. Soon enough, he was carefully spooning a mouthful, chewing slowly. His face scrunched up with nausea, the chemicals in his system making the experience sorta unpleasant. But food was food, and he'd need the energy to recover. Taking in a deep breath to try to chase the headache away, he turned to Miyane again. [b]"<>"[/b] His gaze shifted towards the ceiling. It was tiring, just having his neck craned in one direction. [b]"<>"[/b] A wince. Bit of pain in his eye. [b]"<>"[/b] Comforting was what she had to be. Got it. Miyane shook her head. [color=6ecff6]"<>"[/color] He managed a smile. This was where they were different. [b]"<>"[/b] Daehyun said. Already knew the answer, but maybe if he asked, the answer would be different. It was dark and he was half-blind when it was bright again. Could be something else. [b]"<>"[/b] Any thoughts she had about his response shattered with that blow. Her hands felt clammy again. Wet, almost. [color=6ecff6]"<>"[/color] Her face said it all. Daehyun didn't even need his remaining eye to understand what had happened. He placed the utensils down. Gripped the sheets, tight as he could. His lips drew a tight line, raw red splitting from the cracks. Stared into nothing, his shoulders tense, body rigid. Deep breaths passed in, out, meditative rather than hyperventilated. He let out a sigh, rasping out of his lungs and twisting out of his throat, his whole body seeming to shrink into itself, his expression freezing into place. Carefully neutral, constantly controlled. A stiff hand shifted the styrofoam container off to the side, onto the adjacent desk. Daehyun closed his eyes. He forced out another sigh, no, a hiss, long and steady as a boiling kettle. And soon enough, even that ended, leaving nothing but a hollow core, silent and sterile. [b]"<>"[/b] Each word was a burden upon his tongue. He left it at that. She waited for the silence to end. For him to reassure [i]him[/i]. To hear him breathe again, not that aching, raw sound. Her patience held out for the magic words he always had. The sight of him in this state would've been too foreign. She made sure to keep her eyes on the cold meal. Sauce-soggy rice, half eaten, the fat and oil of the eel slightly congealed from the time she took commuting here. Miori's boys would've loved it. She wondered if it would be intrusive to put the lid back on the container. Would he laugh, or cry, or snark at her? Would he snatch it back, narrowing his eyes (his [i]eye[/i] now. Fuck.) and scarf down the rest of it in one gulp? Would he laugh? Could she make him smile? She wanted to know what would happen next. Some guarantee that they'd be okay. A future and a past that had nothing to do with the blood of a teenager on her hands, senselessly killed for god-fucking-knows-what. Something past this pain that went, despite everything between them, so beyond what she'd ever seen in the man. She searched and found nothing. In this dim corner of the hospital ward, there was only him and her. In the fifteen years she'd known him, Kang Daehyun had always been undefeatable. Now what? [color=6ecff6]"<>"[/color] she scrambled. [color=6ecff6][i]He lost an [b]eye[/b], you absolute retard, of course it still hu--[/i][/color] [color=6ecff6]"<>"[/color] Daehyun continued to breathe deeply, a measure of exhales and inhales that matched the rhythm of most of Luxury Boys' dance sequence. It was second nature now. His heart continued to pump blood upwards into his brain, carrying with it the drugs that numbed everything but his thoughts. He continued to think, continued to breathe, his body not allowing him to die, his mind not allowing him to rest. He swallowed, tasting nothing but rust and spit. Opened his eye again. His lips parted, drawing in air. Stopped at that point. Daehyun reset and reconsidered. Always controlled. Always measured. The metronome ticked in the back of his mind, keeping the cadence of his words steady. He coughed, cleared his throat, swallowed more to chase the dryness away. [b]"<>"[/b] In, out, one at a time. Examine each piece before letting it go. [b]"<>"[/b] A humorless joke. Why did he even try? [color=6ecff6]"<>" [/color] Miyane squirmed, grateful that there was no further mention of anyone outside the two of them. [color=6ecff6]"<>"[/color] [b]"<>"[/b] Daehyun replied, placing some gratitude in his tone. [b]"<>"[/b] They slid into place again, the walls that were abruptly torn down by the urgency of a violent situation. He had to be strong in the other way now. Collected and considerate. Vulnerability wasn't permitted, not [i]his[/i], at least. His breathing continued to be measured, deep. [b]"<>"[/b] Another humorless joke. He tried because it was easier than sincerity. [color=6ecff6]"<>"[/color] His smile fell, plummeted once the effort wasn't there to keep it up. [b]"<>"[/b] He massaged the bridge of his nose. [b]"<>"[/b] The guilt hit like a dull thud. Stupid Miyane. Should have just shut up. It was easier to let him play the pillar, and her to be... whatever she meant to him. Shouldn't have messed with that. [color=6ecff6]"<>"[/color] she asked, already knowing the answer she hoped for. [b]"<>"[/b] A pause. Even he knew that it was harsh. [b]"<>"[/b] [color=6ecff6]"<>"[/color] Her tone was clipped. She wanted it but it still stung. [color=6ecff6]"<>"[/color] The 'goodbye' and 'see you later's remained on the tip of her tongue. She couldn't even manage a nod of acknowledgement. She turned. And she left. [/hider]