Fighting Words [closed; complete]
Who: Kanda and Daisya
What: Kanda goes looking for the fight that they started here.
Where: Starting on the boat, then the beach.
When: Saturday morning.
( Kanda sat in an alcove of the ship, his back resting in the gap between two rows of crates and his journal laying open on the deck beside him. )
What: Kanda goes looking for the fight that they started here.
Where: Starting on the boat, then the beach.
When: Saturday morning.
( Kanda sat in an alcove of the ship, his back resting in the gap between two rows of crates and his journal laying open on the deck beside him. )
I don't need your help. He wanted to be able to say it so badly. He wanted to be able to throw the coat back at Daisya, tell him off the way he'd once told Allen off when he'd awoken to find himself lying atop his coat.
But he couldn't do it. Daisya wasn't Allen, and Kanda wasn't a liar: he did need his help because it was true, his body wasn't healing like it should. He should have felt stronger than he did last night when he'd first woken on the ship; his body should at least hurt less this morning, even if it wasn't completely healed. Instead it hurt more. That wasn't the point though.
The coat clutched in his fist, he stood there stiff and unmoving, his eyes locked with Daisya's, the words he'd just spoken ringing like an echo in Kanda's mind: not you'll deal with it (which Kanda would, of course, as they both knew), but we'll deal with it.
We.
And yet there was Daisya looking…looking like Kanda usually looked, with that expression in his eyes that said stay the hell away.
Kanda felt unbalanced, uncertain. All the things he fucking hated to feel.
He looked down at Daisya's coat, his knuckles whitening against its black, and then back up again. His words were deliberate, measured, the tone of his voice almost inscrutable, "You want me to wear this?"
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