“It’s not MY fault we’re in fucking handcuffs.” // Shisui. Like there were any questions.
fuck starters ( accepting ). ll @leafmedic.
SHISUI. a growl sneered askance, a smear of snarl as fingers curl && ache && curl more tightly into metal. shackles. fuck.“ i don’t care who’s fault it is, ” low && dangerous, sharp as the flare of ( tone it down, tone it down ) sharingan in cell’s shadows, “ i’m just gonna get out. ”
carefulquiet, yet intensity lashes across too little distance between them. it’s not sakura, && it’s not the scrubbed clean smell of stone && steel, it’s not the stale air weighted with something between them.
it’s just - [ wrists rubbed raw, the chain ‘twixt cuffstooshort ] - just a lack of control as its tail ends slip through struggling fingers, the [ shortHOTrasp of breath too high in his chest, high in his throat ].
“ never mind me, ” mutter mutter eyes wild && wide open, “ don’t mind me - ”
because he’s losing it && this is dumb && he’s in a prison cell && this is fine, he’s got this, can do this, no problem in sight– hah —-
“ i’m fine. ”
nobody asked ( not here, not now ), but whatever. how the fuck is he supposed to remember the [ splash of reckless joy in his chest, breathing light ] or the [ soft hiss of her voice not in fury or pain, but in the simple frustration of a mom friend ] like time && space are not choked out of a mind usually spacious — there’s not enough room for fuck’s given about how they got here.
it’s fine. at least the place smells clean. that’s fine. [ there’s probably no disease, no terror, no— ] he’s fine && sakura’s fine, but he’s not gonna look cuz he knows what he’ll see. don’t look don’t look don’t look. && don’t start beating yourself up over this fit, cuz it’ll only make it harder. slow breaths, mind’s retreat from the war that isn’t there.they’re fine. && this is going to suck, but they’ll only be in here for a few days. that’s manageable. … he’ll live, anyway.
exhaustion creeps into what tiny crevices that stress reluctantly surrenders. shisui slinks backward into the darkest corner ( the one that would spin tales of the worst if looked into ) without meeting green eyes. a breath, steadied by will alone. this is a fit. don’t let it control you. ease up there, soldier …… okay.
this is really going to suck. haha.
“ don’t … ” a stutter behind curved bone, pale features briefly taut. the ceiling then, let’s stare at that instead - block out the humiliating fact of another’s conscious presence. “ … don’t tell anyone. ”
it’s just a whisper, && he’s not sure she’ll heed it.