Places to Take Shelter from the Rain

[erase_to_forget]

Who: Miharu, Yoite, and Grandpa Ukitake
Status: Closed
Style: Past tense/Prose
Where: Ukitake's House, Kusasato
When: Week 7, Day 1  Evening/Night
Warnings: None
Rating: I doubt this would have any reason to go over PG
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Comments

[i_will_grant_it]

So this was Ukitake...

This person was someone that Yoite knew and trusted. So Miharu would have faith in the white haired man, but even with faith he still didn't know him. So he feigned sleep for the majority of the time, he just laid there in silent as listening to them speak among one another. Knowing far too well Yoite needed this...some besides him to fall back on for help.

It was not until he heard them leave the room that he finally 'awoke'.

Coward. I'm a coward.

Miharu hugged the blanket Yoite tucked him in with close to his chest, a soft sigh leaving him. It was just hard for him to get used to the fact that Yoite, once again, in front of him was fading away.

Almost shaky himself he rose to his feet, his eyes scanning the room.

"...looks a little like ours."

Then he heard it. His name...and help.

Like a bullet he ran from the room, throwing the door open. Then he saw Yoite there, arm dangling.

"Y-Yoite..."

The sight was enough to make him feel sick. Not out of fear more out of the fact he was hurt again.

"Yoite!"

Miharu runs over to him too afraid to touch his arm.

[erase_to_forget]

Yoite trembles and is biting his fist to keep himself from gagging. From vomiting blood. From falling into another fit of coughs.

"M-miharu, g-gomen...I broke it..."

He nods dazedly to his arm, mind becoming numb as his defense mechanisms are slow to kick in.

His turtlneck half off and half on his black ribs are revealed and Yoite is too weak to try and hide them. Though he wants to. Oh he wants so much to hide his rotting from Miharu. The one he wants to protect from everything.

But the way the fabric of the shirt is twisting it is trapping both his throat and his broken arm.

"...c-can you... cut it off....?"

I wish you could do this with your eyes closed. If I could have just kept you from seeing me like this...

"..Please, Miharu"

[i_will_grant_it]

At his side Miharu grabs his good side gently, looking over the other.

It's bad...

The black skin that was showing didn't bother Miharu. He never really cared how disgusting Yoite looked like...all he cared about was if he was okay or not. Face it he had seen Yoite at his absolute worse. Just like the day he died.

Taking a deep breath of air into his lungs he attempted to calm himself, as he listens carefully to what Yoite says.

"It's okay...you didn't break your arm on purpose."

Cut it? ...the shirt.

With a soft nod he ran back to the room to look for some kind of scissors. When he couldn't find any he went for the kunai that he keep in his shirt. In a matter of minutes he was Yoite's side, the blade in his hand as he began to cut the unneeded fabric away.

"We need to wrap it."

Sorry for the Trippyness Here XD

[erase_to_forget]

"...I-it won't help.. the pieces... aren't big enough to be held in p-place..."

He means the bones of course. Instead of snapping or cracking they had simply... splintered. Shattered. So close to crumbling. In short his bones had buckled in on themselves at the slightest tug of his turtleneck and now the small sharp pieces remained within the gauntlet of his muscles, nerves, and flesh. They tear at everything with the slightest movement.

The only relief comes as Miharu cuts away at the fabric, freeing that deadened limb and allowing it to simply hang instead of be imprisoned. A rush of blood floods to his head and spots light up and flare unpleasantly in his eyes. He feels like he's going to lose consciousness.

Thank you

Had he said it? Thought it? His voice either disappeared in the air or drowned within himself and in a moment's haze he wonders if Miharu is actually there or if its a vision.

A wonderful horrifying vision.

Fingers against his scar, knife against his throat, voices in his ears... the room spinning until he sees only blurs. And watching them, silent, cold is a skeleton. A specter. Black pits for eyes, rotting bones, a mouth that opens to reveal only night.

...no.

Clarity. His mind slowly comes back to itself.

Slowly. Black pits become fading blue irises.

Slowly. Ashen bones become blackened skin.

Not a skeleton. A boy.

Its just a mirror

He sighs weakly. Trembling breath tickles painfully down his throat and the stale air attempts to fill up his dusty lungs. Why did everything have to hurt? Why was he falling apart piece by piece? And why was he too cowardly to just end it? Why did that dying boy keep staring back at him from the mirror?

Stop.

Yoite is sick. That is obvious. And he is sicker still of looking at what he has become. For a moment he wishes that his eyesight had been the first to go.

"...Miharu... please help me get dressed..."