“didn’t know the school accepted strays.” with a cigarette between her fingers, she spoke in a low tone. her eyes held a veil of condescension.
one leg was crossed over the other as she sat on her office chair, ash falling to the floor.
“don’t tell me. the pound was full?”
(wanna see how mean we can get:D)
bloodied knees dropped to the floor in front of her. trembling hands coated in the same scarlet ghost on her legs, almost hesitant.
satoshi doesn't break. not in his expression. not entirely, at least. but his body does. it's battered, bruised. and yet— like some pavlov dog, he cane crawling back to her.
“will. . . will you make me beg you, to heal me?” like a mutt, he pressed his face into the corner of her knee, shaky fingers clinging around her leg. hiding in the comfort of her warmth that had long since drained cold.
