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    Summary

    “If only they could see the strongest right now,” Toji says, tightening his fist painfully for a second. Satoru’s eyes flicker in memory, and it seems Toji is thinking the same thing. “Where’d I get you? Show daddy where he hurt you.” He drawls it out in this condescending syrupy-sweet kind of tone, like he’s speaking to a baby.

    “Here, right here,” Satoru lifts his hand to the base of his throat, then trails a thin finger down to his navel, where the pink scar that Toji had left on him has disappeared back into a smooth expanse of pale skin, thanks to Shoko. “Used to touch myself looking at it in the mirror,” he admits.

    Toji doesn’t pause his rhythm, just says, “You’re real fucked up.”

    Series
    Language:
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