The Irony

Chapter 4

A/N: Does anyone want to write me a better summary?
A/N2: I’ve fixed the other chapters again; you could probably expect that with every update as I like to go over the previous chapters before writing new ones.

Soubi led Ritsuka to the room and to the bed and sat him down. Silent anger continued to radiate from his rigid body; his cheeks long since stained a heated pink. The boy, who seemed to be in a state of oblivion, simply allowed Soubi to move him at will. Ritsuka’s purple eyes followed Soubi as he locked the bedroom door and made his way to the bathroom. He returned with the familiar little white first-aid box.

Soubi noticed when Ritsuka stopped following his movements and simply began to stare into space; all sense of his surroundings seemed to have simply flowed out of him. The blood was slowly swelling from the cuts and scratches, spilling over the gashes in the skin like beautiful crimson tears. Soubi felt the sudden urge to lick them. Instead he sat next to the boy, opened the box, and began to clean the blood up to sanitize the wounds beneath. It didn’t take long to realize that he wasn’t making much of a difference trying to clean up with the small gauze squares he found in the box, so with a sigh he began to gather them up and threw them away.

“We will have to bathe you; this isn’t working,” the blond said, his voice going flat as he attempted to convey calm, none of which gained him nothing more than a blink in response as Ritsuka stared stoically into space. Soubi sighed and pressed a soft kiss to Ritsuka’s forehead as he pulled him back into his arms.

The blond carried his light weighted boy into the bathroom and tactfully and clinically undressed him, the care of his Sacrifice the only thing on Soubi’s mind. He slowly lowered Ritsuka into the bath tub. He didn’t bother to fill the bath completely, but instead filled it with only a few inches of warm water and grabbed a wash cloth.

Soubi chose not to use soap, not wanting to irritate the cuts and scratches, and carefully began to wash the blood away, being gentle around the wounds. The majority of them didn’t look as though they would scar, but there was a few across the boy’s arms, and one along his chest, that were quite deep and would need butterflies and even still may scar. As Soubi moved toward his face, it looked as though there were no knife wounds, but the scratches from mother’s nails were copious. When he reached Ritsuka’s neck, the younger male blinked slowly. He reached up and batted at the fair hand. “Stop, I can do it, I’ve been doing it myself for years. I don’t need your help,” Ritsuka protested. Purple eyes glared into blue as Ritsuka held out a demanding hand for the wash cloth.

All of this was ignored as Soubi continued to clean Ritsuka all through the boy’s cries of “Leave me alone” and “Get off me.” The blond even managed to clean quite a bit despite the slim arms flailing around and the indignant glares sent his way.

“Will you get off me? I can do it myself!” The now pouting boy said, his arms crossed and hair sticking up in odd angles, the only reward for his struggles.

“I know you can,” the blond said softly and calmly. “This is for me, I need to do this.”

Ritsuka tilted his head as he looked at his Fighter. His Fighter, who had looked ready to murder earlier, now looked as sedated as a kitten that had had its fill of cream. The blond was watching his hand as it made its way across the slightly sun-kissed skin of the boy who was his to serve. He humphed for good measure before sitting back and allowing Soubi to slowly wipe away the remnants of the blood and help to sooth an inner ache he did not wish to acknowledge with his careful movements and light touch.

Purple eyes watched Soubi’s silent and content face as he continued to wash, despite the b
blood being long since washed away and the wounds clotted. “The water is getting cold,” Ritsuka said with a slight shiver.

The blond stopped and nodded. He stood, grabbed the towel from the rack, and held it with his arms spread wide, averting his gaze elsewhere.

The boy blushed, but stood up. He moved near the towel and wordlessly allowed the taller male to wrap him up. He gasped as he was lifted up and held close to a strong chest. ”I can walk you know,” he said without conviction as he allowed himself to snuggle slightly closer.

Soubi set Ritsuka down and dried him with the same clinical accuracy as before. Ritsuka allowed it with the knowledge that being able to touch and care for him helped to reassure Soubi that his Sacrifice was ok.

Once he was dry, Ritsuka batted the blond’s hands away and took the towel to wrap back around himself. He made his way toward the dresser, stopping short when he caught sight of a bag on his computer chair. Moving closer, he peeked inside the open top to see a pair of sleeping pants. Soubi had brought sleeping clothes. The knowledge – that Soubi was so comfortable with Ritsuka, he felt it ok to bring clothing and bathroom amenities over – gave the boy an odd fuzzy feeling that seem to travel from his stomach to his chest and back. He said nothing as he grabbed his own sleeping clothes and slipped them on, first moving the towel to his hips to put on his shirt and then using it as a shield by slipping his pants on underneath it.

He turned around to find his Fighter sitting on the bed, staring at his hands. “Are you going to get ready for bed?” he asked. The blond looked up and gave the boy a small smile before nodding. He grabbed his bag and went to the restroom.

Ritsuka made himself comfortable on the bed, turning onto his side, as he waited for Soubi. A contemplative look crinkled his forehead.

When Soubi emerged, Ritsuka looked up and realized that the pants he had seen made up the entirety of Soubi’s sleeping clothes. With a blush, he looked away and faced the wall, pulling his comforter higher. He felt the bed dip as Soubi climbed in and the feel of the comforter moving as he adjusted it over himself. When the movement stopped, the boy allowed himself to relax into the bed, only to jump when he felt himself being pulled back into Soubi’s chest and held within strong arms. Sighing, he decided he was far too comfortable and tired to move or fight at the moment. He felt the blond hair tickle across his face as Soubi leaned to press a soft kiss against his cheek, and then another to his temple before laying back down. Perhaps it was the emotionally trying day, or the warm bath, or the comfort that his Sentoki provided, but it was within those strong arms that he felt safe enough to quietly whisper, “I don’t think I can stay here much longer.”