#seispada

    amber colored eyes turn their gaze toward him as he enters the room — the scent of iron           strong. it's blood sherealizes once eyes lay sight on the state of his body drenched in a             crimson hue.   (   and it's not even the blood creeping her out — sending a chill down her           spine. it's the eerie smile on grimmjow's features.   )   a feeling of dread settles in the pit of         her stomach as she turns to face him.   ❛   what happened? is that your blood? are you hurt?     ❜ /

     purple and yellow. the worst-looking kind of bruise, and yet … guiltily, he flaunts it to hajime with the sole intention of soaking his attention. it’s ulterior motives like this that make yuutarou wonder if he’s going about this the right way. to be selfishly stealing away someone’s time for his own gratification. he hadn’t had problems with it before with other people, but perhaps he cares too dearly about this one. akira would probably laugh at these desperate measures. his skin brightens with color when the bruise on his arm is tenderly touched —— such brusque, calloused hands that were more often used to rougher means; but on yuutarou, they are gentle and caring. he purses his lips.  “ y-yeah … “  he mumbles, suddenly weak-willed. any more than this would feel like too much. or maybe he’s overthinking again. regardless, his desire submerges itself quickly, and he finds himself dismissing the latter.  “ i’ll take care of it. thank you, iwaizumi-san. “