haithix
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The air between them is stale, thick and heady with the aftermath of their last argument finally weighing down on their shoulders.
"Say it," Ayato intones, dragging his brush to ink another signature. The words carve themselves out of the throat, more Kamisato Ayato-like than Ayato. "It is unlike you to hold your tongue in front of me."
Thoma glares, burns through him as though Ayato is man molded out of pity and not clay. "Is that an order, My Lord?" The honorific pulls itself sharply out the tongue, weaponized the minute it becomes aerodynamic in a way that has Ayato's belly curling with dread.
"You know very well it is not."
"Do I?" Thoma counters, daring the Commissioner in a way only he can. His vision burns, an extension of the heart he is charring for Ayato. "You seemed fine enough to order me before you left to Seirai."
Wherein Ayato takes the retainers punishment under his own name; bears it in the weight of his own blood, and Thoma must watch. Thoma, however, is never content to just watch. He fights. He wants to meld himself into Ayato as Ayato has to him. They fight. Ayato is dissected by the taste of sin. They navigate themselves from there.
Series
- Part 1 of 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
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Summary
"𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐰𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧." — 𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐢 | ❀
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