“ if you were going to kill me, you would have done it already. so, what do you want from me? ” and " ✔ " for KosuKei... 👀 you choose which role!
Enemies to Lover, Lovers to Enemies and Everything in Between
“If you were going to kill me, you would have done it already. So, what do you want from me?”✔ for one muse to catch the other in a vulnerable moment and have sympathy
Niwa Kosuke’s voice rang with unexpected strength, tainted with a spark of animosity that sounded dreadfully unlike him. Kei’s heart almost missed a beat, eyes narrowing in surprise when the other rushed in his direction. Too close. What was he…
“So, what do you want from me?” the other man spat, slender figure spreading before him as if to prevent any escape.
Niwa stood firmly, focussed and determined, eyes riveted on his opponent. Kei’s back met the wall, lips parting to say something that never came. What was he trying to achieve?
With apprehension, Kei noticed he had been holding his breath. He carefully took control of his body again, letting the shock pass in a low, hopefully unnoticeable blow. Then, to put up a front as convincing and indestructible as could be, he straightened his back, to immediately regret it as the multiple bruises in his skin protested in unison. Eyebrows flinched in pain. He had rarely gone through such amounts of discomfort and, despite knowing it would bear no consequence in a few hours, struggled to ignore the numerous sharp cuts.
With a gesture of his hand, Kosuke silenced him. Such a sight, rare and impressive. Disbelief and awe mixed within, promising to never let him forget this evening where Niwa showed his protective side. Not caring, not helpful, not understanding, no.
Niwa Kosuke was protecting him despite his failure.
“I need one of you,” the artwork responded, its pale eyes observing them without curiosity, “not both, and you do seem like the most compliant one.”
“I’m not leaving without him.”
Kei rubbed his hand against the torn fabric of his pants to stop the blood from dripping. In the large, deserted hall, any sound resonated – exposed him – painfully. The artwork’s eyes flashed to Niwa’s arm as it sought Kei blindly behind his back, trying to lead him towards the door they had come from. The human stayed between them, shielding his wounded friend in anticipation of another attack from their opponent.
The two men walked together, almost touching, their eyes never meeting. Kosuke’s shoulders, his black shirt, the hand that stretched in his direction as if to mean to hold his remained in Kei’s field of vision the entire time. Behind them, the wall, until…
Fingers met more pain, forcing his hand away. Thick, dark stems covered in shards blocked the door, sealing it shut with such tightness they concealed the wood underneath. They should have expected this. They should have expected everything, including the artwork’s strength and the resistance it’d show to a retrieval attempt. Kei had counted on the ephemeral nature of flowers and the shallow work the Hikari had made on it; too late to anticipate that magic could help a rose thrive even a couple centuries later.
Because of his lack of trust, Niwa Kosuke was in danger. The man didn’t ask, didn’t turn his head to see why he wasn’t opening the door and leading him outside of the trap they had fallen in together; instead, his muscles tensed, anticipating a confrontation with the magical being that still gazed in silence.
Kei’s hands met Kosuke’s back. Alone, he had failed, and doubted this human – despite the unexpected determination he currently displayed – could leave a fight with an artwork this powerful victorious. But together…
“We cannot leave,” Kei whispered, approaching his human shield until their bodies met. “I’ll lend you my strength.”
His fingers, still covered in incisions, had already stopped bleeding.
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