He tried to look at it from a clinical approach. He tried to stay detached, relying on his hands to go through the motions when his mind couldn't. Bleach. Raw, burning, tear inducing. Then came the change of clothes, which Tadashi handed over.
❝Here. Step on that trash bag and try not to make marks.❞
Tadashi felt dirty and he hadn't even done a thing aside from clean up Hiro's messes.












