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Fingers traced down cold pricked skin, nails gently scraping against his abdomen. He sucked in a quick breath, abs tensing under her fingertips as he held it, afraid. Afraid that the slightest movement would cause her to retreat her curious hands, leaving him cold and alone. Her eyes were trained on his bare chest despite the fact everything was dark to her. Slowly, he exhaled, rustling the hair on top of her head. This caused her to tilt her head upward, staring off center to where his face would be. Her fingers stilled against his hips, thumbs pressing into his hip bones.
“Majima-san…” The softness of her voice disturbed the silence that enveloped around them. The tip of her index finger outlined a fairly recent, but otherwise healed scar up his left side, sending a shiver to shoot up his spine. “That was your name, right?” She was cautious, each word heavy on her tongue.
“Yeah,” Was his simple worded response, curling his hands into fists at his side. Her having learned his name was a slip up on his part. Briefly, when they hid at Club Sunshine, Makoto heard the girls speak his name numerous times. It was dangerous for Makoto. The less she knew of him, the better. And yet—
He observed her, his single eye watching her every move. Her eyes were a blank void, but somehow he found comfort that she couldn’t see him as he saw her. Her body shifted in place as if she felt his eye on her, swapping the foot she was leaning on to the other. A small noise left her as she flattened one of her small palms against his abdomen.
“Where was it again?” Tentatively, her hand raised upward, edging close to his ribs. Inhaling sharply, he pressed even more against the wall, flattening his back against it. It was laughable, but he felt trapped by the small woman in front of him. If it was anyone else, he would remove them easily from his side. But, she insisted and he felt himself melt like putty in her tender hands.
Her brow scrunched together in concentration as her hand fell flat against the right side of his ribcage. She curled her fingers toward his back, igniting a small panic within him. “O-other side.” he choked out, her hand withdrawing immediately from its space. The warmth followed her.
“Sorry.” she replied, dropping her head downward as if in shame that she dared touch anywhere that wasn’t a wound to be patched. His lip twitched upward at that thought.
“S’kay,” he murmured as her other hand flattened against his skin at the other’s retreat.
She mimicked the movements from earlier, trailing her hand upward until she felt the sticky substance coating his left side near his ribs. A small sound of surprise escaped her as she hovered her hand over the wound he acquired earlier. He watched her fumbled around for a moment, grasping the small cloth on the nearby table. Her nails tapped against the glass bottle of alcohol, tipping it over the cloth generously. A waste of tequila in his opinion.
“Ya’know,” he started, seeing how much she was struggling to do this task. “I can do it on my—” A hiss broke his sentence as she pressed not so tenderly into his side with the alcohol soaked rag.
Grimacing, his eye twitched at the sharp pain the alcohol caused. He attempted not to utter too much sound while she dabbed at the injury, it was a delicate process for her. She would prod with her finger for any sticky, hot substance and then rub it away with the rag, rotating it every now and then. He was silently amazed she managed to clean it so well, considering she was using touch as the sole indicator of where everything was. The pain started to numb and he felt his eye close in response, trusting she would do a good job.
“I know you could have done this.” At the sound of her voice, he peeled his eye back open, staring at the top of her brown hair. “Maybe better than I could.” her voice wavered as she paused in her actions, keeping a finger pressed into his skin as a bookmark for where she left off. It didn’t stop her hand from trembling as she attempted to speak. “But I want to repay you for all you’ve done for me.” her voice was raspy now, as if she was barely holding together.
His eye softened at her words, the same panicky feeling piercing his heart whenever she was in distress.
“Hey,” his voice was barely a whisper as he raised one of his hands to grasp the hand wrapped around the cloth. Her head lifted at his action, eyes staring up in his vague direction. “There ain’t nothin’ for ya’ to repay me for.”
He honestly meant it, everything that has happened since he decided to not kill Makoto Makimura was his responsibility now. Especially now when all she had left was him. Grimacing, he shoved away thoughts of Lee. It was a gruesome way to go. They were lucky they were far enough away to only receive minor damage. They barely escaped from Sagawa and his men. He could still hear the ringing in his ears, the flames in his face, and the grime coating both him and Makoto.
“You’re hurt because of me.” Strained, her fingers closed over what she could of his hand, squeezing alcohol between their enclosed fingers.
His eye flickered to their conjoined hands, taking a delicate note of how tiny she actually was. His hand encased around her fist completely, the tips of her fingers barely peeking out to hook around his thumb. An acidic feeling rose in his throat, he tried his best to swallow it down.
“Naw, only hurt ‘cause some fuck acted all big. Had to put ‘em in their place.” he scowled, a burning rage flickering beneath his skin at the thought of some guy touching her. Thankfully the guy he beat senselessly didn’t know who Makoto was and was only a street thug. A moment passes as she stays quiet, contemplating his words, brow staying furrowed.
“...Because you had to protect me.” her voice was barely a whisper, hand shaking under his. Her statement was true. He did dive in to take a hit from a knife for her, but that was his choice. He knew he could handle a knife cut better than she probably would. Fighting her on this point was mute though, so he kept his mouth shut. “Ah, anyway, let me finish.” she fumbled with her words, slipping her hand easily out of his much larger one. His hand hovered in the air a moment longer than needed before dropping back to his side.
She continued in silence, cleaning what she could of his injury. Her finger poked around his wound, carefully making sure the majority of the blood was gone. She wiped at her own hands, cleaning them off and then attentively clutched a bandage, one big enough to hopefully cover his injury. Her finger trailed around the outskirts of his numb skin, comparing it to the bandage she had in her hands. Once she was sure it would cover it comfortably, she ripped the plastic covering off and placed it over his injury, applying pressure around the outer edges to stick it to his skin. Here hand flattened against the bandage, smoothing it out against his darker skin. He blew a sigh out through his nose, disturbing her hair once more.
“There,” she whispered, her hand remaining pressed into his side.
“Makoto,” Her head raised in acknowledgement, eyes out of focus toward him. “Thank you.” Raising a hand, he clamped it over the one she had on his side.
He cherished holding it, giving her hand a small squeeze. Her hand, underneath his, applied light pressure into his side, returning the gesture back. After a moment, his hand slipped from hers and back to his side. Instead of following his movements and removing her hand, it stayed pressed into his side—as if she was protecting it. The corners of her mouth twitched upward in a faint smile.
And that was enough for him. To see her smile even if for one moment.
He was broken out of his stupor as she moved away. Her fingers trailed down to his hip before sliding away from his skin. The same hand patted the nearby table as she attempted to maneuver to the nearby couch. He watched her go, every muscle straining in preparation if she tripped and fell. Thankfully, her hands found purchase to the dusty couch and plopped herself onto it. He released an exhale he hadn’t realized he was holding, shoulders slumping downward. Now that she was a good distance away from him, he moved to inspect his shirt. It was damaged with a tear on the side and his blood. A frowned formed its way onto his face. There was no way he could walk around in this without drawing attention. He needed to get a new one. His mind raced as he pinpointed where a nearby store would be in relation to where they were hiding out. The main street would be out of the question, Sagawa would be on the lookout for sure. And who knows who else is after her. Fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, hands clenched tightly together.
“Majima-san,” His head snapped up toward the direction his name was called from. “What’s that sound?” Her question caused him to direct his gaze to the shirt clenched in his fists. His grip loosened as he realized the sound her ultra sensitive ears heard, was him slowly tearing the seams on his shirt.
“Uh, need to get a new shirt.” he replied stiffly, pulling his arms through the sleeves and fumbled with the buttons.
“Ah,” she sighed, pressing her hands together. He finished buttoning the shirt, pulling his tux jacket over it to hopefully hide what it could of the torn and bloody shirt. It didn’t help all that much, considering the jacket was also ripped in the same area. “You’re going out then?” Smoothing down his clothes, he brought his gaze to her fidgeting hands.
He didn’t answer right away, eyes dragging up to her nervous face. Her blank stare was focused toward the ground, lip slipping between her teeth. He swallowed a lump in his throat. They were surely safe here, for the time being. She didn’t have to worry about being alone while he was out, if that was what was bothering her. A pinch in his stomach tore him from his focus on her to another matter at hand—hunger. Scowling, he realized, along with his own hunger, how hungry she had to be as well. They were on the run for a bit before finding this place and he couldn’t remember when they ate last.
“Ya’, I’ll uh, bring sum food back.” It was hard to miss the sharp snap of her gaze lifting from the ground to staring straight ahead of her, listening intently to him.
“I would like that,” Although her voice sounded small, it couldn't hide the excitement that showed through her words.
“Ain’t gonna be out long.” The words felt hollow as he spoke, unsure if that would be the case. He hoped it would, but he knew this town too well. Double checking he had everything he needed, he stepped toward the exit of the fairly small room. Hand stretched out toward the handle, he froze at the quiet sound Makoto made. “Haw?” He turned to her, fingers ghosting over the knob of the door.
“...Be careful.” Her mouth twisted, pursed as if she ate a lemon. Her brows were pinched together in worry—for him . His hand closed the rest of the way around the doorknob.
“I will.” Forcing out those few words, he tried to deny how much her worry affected him.
He gave her one last fleeting glance before he closed the door, hopefully keeping her secure until he made it back.
Grumbling, he pressed a hand against his face. What was only supposed to be a quick trip, turned into a three hour endeavor. Dragging his hand down his face, he reached back and rubbed the nape of his neck. The neon lights of the night life were distractingly numb as he turned a corner. At least he was able to find what he needed. Approaching the door to where he left Makoto, he did a quick glance behind his shoulder down the thin alleyway. No one appeared to be staring at him and he took that as a sign to continue toward his destination.
“Makoto—“ He abruptly closed his mouth, teeth banging against each other as he held the door partially open.
His single eye scanned over the curled form of her on the small couch. Panic crawled its way under his skin as he observed. It only lessoned at the visible rise of her chest, indicating she was still breathing. Closing the door, he crept further in, staring down at her still form. Her plain, white shoes were placed on the floor in front of where she lay and she coiled herself together like a small sack of potatoes. The pointer finger on one of her hands pressed against her mouth, possibly to block breathing in dust. He always knew she was small and vulnerable, but seeing her relaxed, jaw slack with sleep, caused something to stir within him. His jaw clenched tightly, setting aside the bag of takoyaki he acquired earlier.
He was unsure if he should wake her. Rest was something they hadn’t been able to do as often as they should. Not like he could sleep anyway, being haunted by past nightmares. Scowling, he pulled his tux jacket off and laid it over her small form. A muffled sigh left her as she huddled even tighter into a ball. A few paces away, he settled himself between where she laid on the couch and the small table, back pressing into the wall. Idly, he rolled up the sleeves of his new shirt, cuffing them off at his elbows. The chill of the night soaked into him, but he accepted it, embracing the bitter cold.
He wasn’t sure how much time passed as he fiddled with his sleeves. At this moment, he didn’t care, enjoying the respite they had. His head perked up as Makoto exhaled a soft groan. His eye flicked to her sleeping form, her face was twisted up in agony as she shifted under the thin fabric of his jacket. Then slowly, her eyes opened, although it made no difference for Makoto herself. A low whine fled from her lips as she reached a hand outward over the edge of the couch.
“Majima-san?” she whispered, hand searching for him.
He bit the inside of his cheek, scooting a tad closer to her. She must have heard him as she tilted her head in his direction. Cautiously, he scooped her hand into his, holding it. Her lips parted in slight surprise, curling her fingers around his cold hand.
“I’m here.” he answered, leaning his head against the edge of the couch.
He was closer than he intended, feeling her breath brush against his cheek. Tears pricked at the edges of her eyes as she silently clutched his hand. There was a tremble between their hands and he wasn’t sure if it was him or her that caused it, he tightened his grip. Her sniffling was the only sound to break the silence between them. The least he could do was be here for her from whatever demons she faced in her sleep, he knew all too well how it felt.
“I’m glad.” she murmured, pressing her other hand to her face. She wiped what she could of the liquid seeping out of her eyes.
“Ya’ hungry?” After a minute of watching her clean herself up, he spoke. “It’s takoyaki.” He further confirmed what he picked up on his outing. A small, pleased hum left her as she moved to sit up. As she shifted, he followed suit, straightening from his position. Propping herself up on her elbows, she paused, glancing down at her body.
“Oh.” Her hand slipped from his and wrapped around the edge of his jacket. At the loss of her touch, he pressed a hand against his mouth, clearing his throat in embarrassment as she acknowledged his act of kindness.
“Ya’ looked cold.” Averting his gaze, his hand found its way to the back of his neck, rubbing it slowly.
“Your jacket?” she asked, rubbing her fingertips around the fabric to get an idea of what it was. He coughed out a small sound of agreement, not able to look in her direction. He felt her adjust until she was in a sitting position, tucking her legs under her body. “Do you want it back?” she asked, cautiously holding it out toward him.
“Nah, keep it fer now.” He shook his head to emphasis, regardless if she could see him.
He opened the plastic sack containing the takoyaki and the canned tea he randomly chose along the way. Gesturing toward her, he held out the container of takoyaki. He didn’t dare vocalize that he noticed her hanging his jacket over her shoulders. Her hands reached out, blindly searching. It took only a moment more as her fingertips grazed the box, easily removing it from his hold.
“Also got sum tea.” He held the can out as well, her finding it quicker than the box. She murmured her appreciation as she set the can on the couch, leaning it against her hip. They both went silent, enjoying the semi-warm food from the containers. For once, it was nice to sit and eat while the quiet surrounds them.
As they finished up, eating the last ball of their takoyaki, Majima gathered the trash and tied off the plastic bag. He tossed it to the side, planning to throw it away when he left again. He shifted around on the floor, readjusting his legs from their previous position. As he was hunched over, a hand flattened against his back. His muscles tightened, freezing in his movements as she pressed her thumb into a certain spot into his back.
“Makoto?” Her name was the only thing he was able to speak, completely taken back from her bold touch.
“You’re still tense,” her voice sounded far away as the pounding in his ears grew louder. “Let me.” She didn’t wait for a response as both her hands slid to his shoulders, tugging him back toward her. He let her, too shocked to deny her. His back hit her legs as he realized she also changed her position.
Majima barely had time to react as a few of her fingers trailed up the sides of his neck, her touch setting fire to his skin. He swallowed dryly, feeling even more tense than he had been before. She started slow, using her thumbs to apply firm, but gentle pressure down his neck. He sighed heavily, exhaling most of the tension out of his shoulders. This was different from what she did at the massage parlor, it was more personal with the skin to skin contact. She continued her work, untying knots he hadn’t been sure he had. His head lolled to the side, struggling to keep upright as she worked her way downward to his shoulders.
He couldn’t suppress the quiet moan that slid out of his mouth as her deft thumbs remolded the muscles beneath his skin. He struggled to keep his eye open, blinking rapidly into the darkened room. Soon, he found himself unable to even think correctly. His worries washed out of him as each pressure of her thumb cleansed him. He stopped attempting to keep his eye open, eyelid heavy as it slid close. He was only semi-conscious of the world around him. Makoto’s adept hands were the only thing anchoring him in place. He focused on her, mind clearing as it drifted into a blank darkness.
Her mouth parted in surprise as his head flopped backwards into her lap. Her hands stilled, ears straining for any sound that indicated that something was wrong. His body rose and fell against her legs, giving her reassurance that he was still breathing. Cautiously, she trailed her hands back up from his shoulders. Small fingers brushed against his neck, hands cupping his head.
“Majima-san…?” her voice was soundless as she spoke, fearful of what ailed him.
Her brow furrowed as the stubble lining his face stabbed at her. She ignored it, fingers ghosting along his jawline. He wasn’t speaking nor was he shoving her away. She visibly relaxed at the realization that he had simply fallen asleep. A smile graced her face, as this was the second time he dropped his guard in her presence. Sighing, she stayed hunched over his face, hands curling around his jaw. She hoped he didn’t mind if she explored his face to get an idea of what he looked like. She faintly remembered him stating he was handsome before he lost his other eye. Her thumbs caressed over his cheeks, until they both landed on his cheekbones. Eyebrows shot up as the tip of one of her thumbs skimmed against a hard, fabricated material. Slowly, she traced it around the edge.
“An eyepatch…” she mumbled, gaze downward as she strained for her eyesight to come back. It was all for naught as darkness consumed her sight, as always.
Deciding to leave the eyepatch alone, she trailed her fingers above it, tracing the arch of his relaxed eyebrows. Her fingers continued their ascent toward his hairline, becoming surprised once more at the results of her exploration, his hair was pulled taut at the back of his head. Being mindful of the eyepatch band, she rubbed her fingers over his hair, attempting to find the spot it was tied at.
Exhaling, her fingers bended under his head, twisting around the start of his ponytail. Using one hand, she lifted his head just a smidgen as she pulled the tail of his hair into her other hand. His hair was really long. Deciding to leave it alone, she settled his head back onto her lap, conscious of how she situated his hair in case it made him uncomfortable.
She figured he would have woken up by her adjusting him, it was unexpected. Double checking, she hovered her hand over his mouth. Warm breath exhaled in a slow, easy pattern against her palm. At the indication that he was still asleep, she brought her hand to cup the side of his face again as her fingertips idly stroked his cheeks. She wondered if he allowed himself to fall asleep naturally or fought it every step of the way. He didn’t seem like a guy that would easily rest, at least not on his own. His back was always taut, muscles coiled together as it strained against unimaginable struggles.
As she pondered on the tense structure of his back, she fell back against the couch. Fabric shifted against her shoulders to remind her that she still had his jacket around her. Removing her hands from his face, she sat up once more. Trying not to move around too much, she removed the jacket from her shoulders. Giving a wide berth from Majima, as to not disturbed him, she gently laid the jacket over his chest. Palm flattened against his collarbone, drawing the piece of clothing closer to his chin. Once she was sure she had him covered up properly, she relaxed back against the couch, a soft sigh escaping her.
Rubbing her hands up her thighs, she found his face again, hands sliding into his hair. Although it was still tied back, she tenderly pulled her fingers over it. Her short nails dug between strands of hair, lightly massaging his scalp. She continued this motion, being mindful of the eyepatch band, hoping to bring him some comfort while he slept.
Her mind drifted toward her short lived rest from before, flinching at the memory of her fading dream. One thing was certain, Majima clearly was haunted by memories he couldn’t control, just as she was. She found that she liked that about him. Not that she found elation in him suffering, only that it was something she could relate to—a common ground between them. Her eyes drifted close, resting them despite not being able to see. She put her whole weight against the back of the couch, still threading her fingers over his scalp.
She couldn’t do much to help Majima in the situation they were in, but the least she could do was to make sure he was well rested before they were forced to move again. Any relief she could offer, she would gladly give. Frowning, she was still unsure why he stuck around so long. She mentally shook away that train of thought, knowing she would find herself going in circles with reason and logic. He stayed because he said he would.
And that would be enough for her.
