#years later...

For a fleeting moment, Hanayagi Kaoruko was horrified. Terrified beyond compare. So much so that she visibly finched, bucking back as if she could pause time and shimmy out of New National Theatre’s dorms before anyone noticed her. After all, her girlfriend was filling up an entire couch by herself. Isurugi Futaba was such a flab-covered mass of meat that she just gushed, outwards and outwards, until her fat folds were covering the couch’s thick arms and gushing over the poor thing’s back. It was hard, almost to tell what kind of fabric it was made of; so subsumed in blubber than it could be black leather, or just so soaked in stinking sweat that the wool had been irreparably dyed to look it.

No doubt as an outsider looking in the unseemly machinations that transpired in the facility were inconceivable. How in the name of science one could treat their fellow man in such a way—beyond fathoming, and yet human corruption prevailed. Advances in discovery were praised, rather than condemned for the suffering they caused. She did not stir for some time; conscious and rational thought, however, had not abandoned her. In spite of her condition the experiment displayed a reasonable coherency around those that tended to her. She never once considered just how severe the extent of her longstanding illness was—just how poorly she was treated on account of who she was and what she could do (and, quite rankly, who owned her).

Half-lidded eyes were as pale as they were unable to focus on her conversationalist in question; dazed, disoriented, she recalled vaguely the doctors and nurses that had tended to her—their care had been stifling. The hospital smelled familiar, sounded familiar, with a stench of chemicals and sterility and the steadfast tick of machines. What comfort she found in recognition was quickly snuffed out by an onslaught of doubts. Thus the lab rat lay there, her body much too weak and her mind trying to provide what attention it could to this ❛Detective Hickman.❜

              ❝Confused… ?❞

How she certainly sounded it, her query accented by the small cant of her head (or what little she could manage). This was a conversation she ought not yet to be having, yet she pressed on regardless. So many questions, and so many answers to provide in turn. These people undoubtedly wanted the truth—to know of the hell that happened behind whitewashed walls. She would give it as best she could, as much as her weary, dangerousmind would let her.

              ❝Fleur ? I… yes. That—that is my name. I remember.               They did not call me it often.❞

He had seen it all… or so he had thought, once.  The cruelty of mankind knew no bounds; that much his years in service to the shield and badge at his waist had taught him, but even after decades of time spent tracking murderers, rapists, slave traders, sex traffickers – he had found himself downright … flabbergasted at the state of affairs that had met his gaze in the hours spent combing through even a thousandth of the files, of video footage, of scientific and medical reports whose jargon meant little, but whose intent he could read loud and clear.  The time spent waiting in the hospital for the first of the captives set free by his team had been spent divided between seething rage at those that had somehow justified their works, their deeds, in the name of science and between shame, setting hot and nauseous and sour in his stomach, his chest, bitter stinging in his chest.  How many of the advances – technological, scientific, medical – that the modern world relied on, accepted so easily, at face value, without a single question – had been wrung out of the blood and sweat and tears of children?  

His hand, leather clad and twisted, rubbed, scraped anxiously for a brief moment against the bend of his knee.  The pain of twisted muscle, of raw and severed nerves, of skin hollowed and scraped away, scarred and mottled; he almost welcomed it now. It was, in all of the horrors of the last few days, familiar, at least.  Carl’s gaze was thin, veiled only slightly, a force of habit to conceal the anger and confusion that plagued his thoughts.  Did. That was promising, he weighed, leaning forward to shift the cup of hot chocolate a little closer to her, though he did not let go of it entirely just yet.  The last thing he needed was to add burns to the trauma that she’d already endured. “I – I brought you hot chocolate, I – the doctors, they said I shouldn’t give you anything with caffeine yet, but, I thought …”  

That what?  A little hot milk and cocoa might make everything better?  “You might like something warm.”  Hospitals were cold, especially with ivs and cords that tangled around any patient, keeping them from ever really being comfortable or ever really being tucked in beneath the thin blankets provided.  “I just … wanted to introduce myself, let you know that I’m around.  My team and I, we’re taking lead into the investigation of –”  

Leave a “Value Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about my character telling yours how they feel about them.

Small hands were taken into bigger palms and squeezed once. Erwin had sat down right next to Levi and tried to muster up the courage to let words pass that would inevitably expose the man’s entire heart. Ripped open for Levi to look in and find what had been growing in there ever since they first met.He stared at the pale skinned and delicate hand and brought it up to his cheek. Gently he leaned into it and took strength from the softness and warmth it gave him.

“I had no chance.” He began and closed his eyes.

“I didn’t plan to feel that way for you. It was supposed to be an experience to enhance my horizon, but it went in a complete different direction.”

Levi was silent, listening to each and every syllable probably. What was he thinking right now? How would he react to a client confessing his love to him?Erwin believed that it had been painfully obvious from the start. The frequency with which he visited him and the attention he paid to every aspect of their meetings. There was even the thought of a gift he was still to give the man.

He lowered Levi’s hand now and looked into his eyes. Grey and alluringly drawing him into their spell. There was so much to be found in them and yet Erwin couldn't figure out what was going within his Levi’s mind. He’d give so much to have an insight into his immediate thoughts. He’d give part of life for such a rare opportunity, but this wasn’t a magic show where he could summon genies and make a wish. He’d have to figure this out with time and a lot of talking.

The next words lay heavy on his chest and carried a fear that was too extreme to be dismissed. What if he couldn’t give back what Erwin offered? What if it ended up being utterly one-sided?Erwin supposed in that case he’d arrange himself with it just to be close to him. Anything would’ve been better than having to keep a distance that would hurt after a short period of time already.It wasn’t the physical distance he was talking about but the emotional one. Nothing would hurt more than knowing Levi would prefer to keep his distance from a troubling client.

After all, who knew If he was more than just that?