Mark stumbles into the bathroom, bloodied hands fumbling for a lightswitch. He finds it and flips it up. The light makes a dull buzzing before the room is washed in light.
"Fuck," the man grumbles as he goes to the medicine cabinet to search for the first aid kit. Once he finds it he sets that and Amanda's travel sewing kit on the counter. He starts to clean the wound, wincing as the disinfectant touches the raw flesh.
With trembling hands, Mark tries to thread the needle. He finally manages to get the black thread through the eyes of the needle. He braces himself against the counter and leans toward the mirror. The needle enters his flesh, he winces, but continues.
A rough, latex clad hand stops his movements. The reflection of Lawrence stares back at him. His expression unreadable.
Lawrence turns Mark around and gently pulls the sewing thread from his cheek. He is silent as he gets to work on Mark's face. The men stay silent for a time before Mark breaks it.
"Why are you helping me?"
"I'm a doctor. I took an oath."
"And, yet, you are an apprentice of John Kramer, the famed Jigsaw Killer."
A silence fall over them as Lawrence looks away, seemingly looking for an answer. Mark watches his hands thread the needle, with the correct thread, with a steadiness only a surgeon would have. Their eyes meet and they stay silent. The only sounds are their breaths, the buzzing of the light, and the movement and voices from their colleagues milling about the warehouse. Lawrence let's out a sigh.
"Fine. You were doing it wrong. It was going to scar. I mean, you were using sewing thread."
"So?"
"So," Lawrence says matter of factly. "I'm a perfectionist and you have a pretty face."
Mark's cheeks heat up. Well, one was already on fire, but now it's like someone poured gasoline on it. His stomach flutters. His eyebrows furrow. Why did Lawrence's words effect him like this?
The silence washes over them again as they stand in the bathroom. The sound of something metal hitting the floor in another room pulls both men from their thoughts.
"This is why we can't have nice things, Amanda!" Adam yells.
"Shut your fucking mouth!" Amanda yells back.
The corner of Lawrence's mouth pulls upwards at the exchange and Mark letsout a huff of air.
"Almost done. What happened to you, anyway?" Lawrence asks. As he pulls out bandages.
"Ray Jenkins happened. Bastard noticed me and threw a goddamned flower vase at my head. He missed, but he attacked me and held my face in the glass."
"Then that explains all the other cuts, the bruising, and the disheveledment of your person."
"Yeah, that explains it."
"All done. Take it easy for a few days, try to avoid eating on that side, and take some painkillers."
"Will do. Thanks, Doc."
"You're welcome, Detective," Lawrence says as he throws the gloves he had been wearing into the trash. He leans over to Mark and kisses th bandages above the wound. He grabs his cane and walks out of the bathroom, leaving a very confused Mark standing there. Mark's had goes to where Lawrence's lips had been, his heart racing.
So I really wanted to do the OTP challenge, but the thing is I have a lot of OTP's, so I decided to take one fandom, pick my OTP from that specific fandom and write about it. Because it be boring to just do one, I'm going to do multiple ones (if you read the title, it's going to be only my OTP's from Anime), but because I only have a few OTP's from anime, they'll most likely be reoccurring during the challenge.
So to start off, I'm going to do 3D-Shipping from a new anime that I was not expecting to like so much: Tenkai Knights (Good show, please give it a chance)
Tomorrow either looks like Kawoshin from Neon Genesis Evangelion or MakoHaru from Free! These will most likely be my main ships for this 30 day challenge (though there will be others of course).
But for now, enjoy shota preteens:
OTP Challenge Day 1: Holding Hands
“It’s too cold!!!”
“Quit complaining, We’re almost at the diner”
“Ugh, I should have just stayed in bed this morning, it’s too cold for this!”
“Oh shut it Ceylan, you’re the one with the most layers of clothes, quit whining!”
“It’s not his fault he came prepared Toxsa,”
“Nobody asked you Chooki!”
It was a cold december morning and the four Tenkai Knights were returning from Mr. White’s shop after having been summoned to Quarton to battle Vilius’ two goons and the army of corrupted. The weather was gloomy; the sun obscured by heavy stormclouds. Snow fell, blanketing the ground in a thin sheet of white, which quickly turned to brown slush from where their shoes left imprints in the snow. It was falling lightly now, but it wouldn’t be long before the wind picked up and the snow came down harder. They walked semi-close to one another as they made their way to Toxsa’s family diner.
“What time is it anyway? You’d think the corekai would have some decency to let us sleep in on a saturday,” Ceylan complained, rubbing irritably at his eyes. Dark circles ran under them, having stayed up late to finish the book he was reading. He had finally fallen asleep at around 4am, only to be rudely awoken three hours later by his tenkai block shining brightly in his face. He wondered at times like these if it would have been better if he just hadn’t taken the damn thing.
“C-c-ceylan, with the th-threat of their world being taken over b-by Vilius, I doubt they’re g-going to b-be worried about your sle-eping regiments,” Guren said, teeth chattering. He was the worst of them, having been in such a hurry to get to Quarton that he had ran out without changing. He trudged through the snow now in only his Pajamas; some light sweat pants, a T-shirt and his slippers. At the time, he had been so focused on getting to Quarton he hadn’t noticed the weather, but now that his mind wasn’t distracted with Tenkai duties, he was truly regretting not having changed.
“You okay Guren?” Ceylan asked, noticing the boy’s attire and how tightly he had his arms wrapped around himself. He frowned, wondering if he should offer his jacket to his shivering friend. He had a hoodie underneath so it wouldn’t be a problem...
…Then again, he wasn’t great when it came to illness. He was prone to influenza and his dad always warned him about wearing layers to keep from getting sick, because of how easily he got it as a kid. It was always the worst for him; sitting huddled under blankets, never quite warm enough, coughing so hard it made his throat raw and his chest hurt, delusional from fever that he couldn’t remember where the bathroom was in his own house. He hated being sick, and as much as he loved his friend, he couldn’t help but be selfish and pull the jackets closer to himself. He didn’t want another trip to the hospital.
“Y-yeah! I’ll be fine when w-we get to the diner. Don’t worry,” he said, smiling through the cold. Ceylan didn’t believe him though; he could see it from the way he shivered and the way his voice quavered as he spoke. His guilt mounted further when he saw the red knights’ fingertips tinted blue. Blue wasn’t a good color on Guren, blue was more his color.
“Are you positive, do you want my jacket?” he tried again, already making to take it off. Sickness be damned, he’d feel worse if Guren ended up in the hospital instead of him.
“No! No it’s okay. I know you don’t do well in cold weather, I don’t want you getting sick because of me,” Guren forced another smile, resting a firm hand on Ceylan’s shoulder to stop the other from removing his jacket. Guren already knew about his condition, because Ceylan had told him about it months prior. They were such good friends, Ceylan had no trouble telling Guren things he wouldn’t normally share or was too embarrassed to admit. Like how he really loved reading (especially poetry), or that he was really gifted at singing, but was shy about showing it, so he pretended he was bad so other’s wouldn’t tease him for it. He even told him about his secret fears and insecurities. In only 6 months, Ceylan had completely opened up to Guren, something he had a hard time doing with anyone except his father, and even then there were some things he kept private to only himself. He didn’t know why he felt so completely comfortable with Guren, he just did.
“Are you sure? Your lips match your fingers dude, and let me tell you, it’s not your shade of lipstick,” he teased, earning a jab in the side from the knights’ elbow. “Ow! Kidding, kidding! But joking aside, you really should take it.”
“I said i-it’s fine Ceylan. The diner’s a few b-blocks ahead, I’ll be g-good when we get inside.”
Ceylan sighed, letting the argument drop for now. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked face forward, still not content with how things had ended. He looked at Guren from the corner of his eyes just in time to see the boy blowing into the palm of his hands. He narrowed his eyes, then looked forward again; Chooki and Toxsa were up ahead, talking heatedly about something. He didn’t know what, but knowing those two, it could have been anything. He chanced another glance at Guren who was now rubbing his hands together in a pitiful attempt to create friction. His fingers shook as he moved them back and forth. Ceylan sighed, removing his right hand from his pocket.
“Honestly, you’re hopeless,” he huffed, acting like he was more annoyed by what he was going to do next then he really was. His hand darted out, catching Guren’s left wrist, as well as the boy himself, by surprise. With a sharp tug, he yanked the startled boy behind him. He released his right hand from Guren’s left only to replace it with Guren’s right, then took Guren’s left with his own, intertwined their fingers together, and then shoved both their hands in his jacket pockets. The boy stumbled forward, his head finding perch on the blue knight’s shoulder.
“W-what are y-you doing?” Guren stuttered, but no longer from the cold. His face burned hotly at the sudden lack of personal space between the two. Ceylan’s hands were warm in his own and as much as he wanted to be embarrassed and shy away, he didn’t attempt to dislock their fingers.
“What does it look like I’m doing? Keeping you from becoming a Guren Ice Sculpture!” Ceylan said simply, as if they were having a casual discussion about the weather. He tsked when he realized how cold Guren’s fingers were. It was like holding an icicle; it stung in his touch. “Geez, you should have told me they were this bad. Are they numb?”
“Hun?”
“Numb? Are. Your. Hands. Numb????”
“Oh!” Guren blushed, looking down at their feet. “N-no, not really.” Not Anymore.
“If this makes you feel weird, just tell me and I’ll let go,” Ceylan said, staring ahead. His hands unconsciously tightened. Truth be told, he didn’t want to let go.
“N-no, it’s fine. My hands feel a lot better. T-thank you Ceylan.”
“Y-yeah yeah. It wouldn’t be much help in the next battle with Vilius if your hands fall off,” he dismissed, the diner close in sight. Chooki and Toxsa were waiting by the front, wondering why they were lagging behind.
“Hurry up you two, what’s taking so long?”
“Cool your jets Toxsa, we’ll be there soon,” Ceylan sighed, untangling himself from their interlocked fingers. Much as he didn’t want to, he didn’t need Toxsa cracking some stupid joke about them, and he especially didn’t want Wakamei to see either. She’d never let them live it down. He swore, though, as their fingers disconnected, that he heard the tiniest of whines come from the boy beside him. He turned, not really bothering with personal space as his nose poked the other’s cheek, who, might he note, was still using his shoulder as a headrest.
“What’s a’matter? Were you getting comfortable?” he laughed, his breath ghosting on Guren’s face, causing the blush on the knight’s cheeks to intensify.
“In your dreams!” he snapped, pushing off the goofball to make a quick trot towards the diner where an impatient Toxsa and Chooki were waiting in the open doorway. Ceylan’s laughter followed him every step.
“Don’t worry, if you’re still cold in the diner, just let me know,” he said at his friend’s retreating form. Guren sped into the diner, not looking at either Chooki or Toxsa as he disappeared through the door. The two looked at each other, then turned to the archer, an eyebrow raised in question. He shrugged in reply, but his eyes carried a mischievous glint as he smiled innocently at them.
Nothing more was said as the four sat in their booth, warming up with some cocoa and burgers. However, Wakamei couldn’t help but wonder, as she was serving another pair of customers, why Ceylan had been holding his cup of cocoa in his left hand and not his dominant one. But she thought it best not to ask, because judging by the deep blush on Guren’s face, and how Ceylan’s right hand and Guren’s left had remained hidden under the table from the moment they sat down, she’d figured she already knew the answer.
