☁ ((Would it be terrible of me to request the 3rd prompt with Erik because I think that would be very interesting! If not, that is alright as well!))
3rd: My muse’s reaction to yours being tortured in front of them while they’re restrained.
// Oh I don’t mind taking requests at all but OH GOD WHY WOULD YOU MAKE ME WRITE THIS—
Erik wasn't sure how this was possible -- how could this be happening. Maybe there was something wrong with his friend's system, maybe he had partaken in one too many shots at the bar. Perhaps he had too much kindness in him to fight back--
It looked strange to see Tsugaru in that position, unable to fight back against the chains that bound him. It seemed strange that the blonde male was covered in his own blood -- or any sort of blood at all.
It sounded strange -- those cries that Tsugaru was making.
It didn't look strange for very long. Erik's vision clouded, fogged up with his own tears. Angry, hot, streaming tears. His chest burned with the sight of his friend being performed on like Erik had performed on so many in the past. He was furious at himself for being unable to stop it, for being so weak that all he could do was struggle and writhe while his friend bucked under the attentions of so many sharp, prodding tools.
One of the brunette's fists clenched while the other hung limp from a broken wrist -- but that was his own fault. Before having been properly restrained the male delivered a mortal blow to the eye socket of one large offender and in the process had broken his own wrist.
He wished that he had more than a broken wrist; and if he had a genie with three wishes, all three of his wishes would be that he could replace Tsugaru on the table.
After his apparent disorderly conduct he'd been confined to the floor, wrapped several times with thick rope and set on his knees with a heavy iron bar holding his head down. He squatted closely to the ground with his cheek pressed to the cement flooring of the warehouse, cutting his flesh in his attempts at freeing himself.
His very, very futile attempts.
He knew that it was poor form to react this much. That it was encouragement for the torture technicians. He knew that if he was the technician he would only be thrilled to hear the male screaming--
He could not help himself.
Sobs turned to growls, growls turned into frustrated shaking, and just before he passed out he remembered vowing to sell himself to Orihara Izaya -- so he could track down the demons that did this and smile into their soon-to-be-lifeless faces.