[thread] this is what you've done

[torn_lavender]

Who: Malik, Cain
What: Helping Malik after his darker half finally lets him go
Where: Malik's apartment
When: After this.
Rating: PG-13 for blood, illusions to violence

Comments

[torn_lavender]

He'd been slipping in and out of consciousness for a while now. He remembered a shockingly long period where he and Ryou had been talking, but he'd drifted off again. He wasn't sure what had brought him back to this time, because last time it had been the comm blinking and buzzing next to his hand. He'd dropped it, though. Or knocked it off the table--

The altar.

Malik winced. He had to stop thinking about that.

Footsteps. The door opening. A call - his name... Cain's voice? If he had thought he could raise his voice loud enough to be heard, he would have, but he knew his vocal cords were raw and strained.

It burns and he's screaming...

The fire hissed and spat. He stared at the bowl for a moment, gaging how low the oil was inside. It would last long enough, eh expected, if the blood on the table would stop landing directly on the flames.

He turned a little, to have a better view of the door. The movement pulled the skin along his shoulder blades, cracking dried blood and tearing a sharp cry from him. Well, so much for not making it worse, he thought sourly.

[face_downcast]

The sharp human noise shattered his consciousness, prompting him to simply shove the door open without more thought.

Then the LORD said to Cain, "Why are you angry? Why is your face downcast? If you do what is right, will you not be accepted? But if you do not do what is right, sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must master it."

The room was dreadful. For a second he reeled away from it, entire body prompting him not to enter the horrible place. But there was Malik, looking infinitely more pathetic than he'd ever seen another human creature look. Mind over matter, he plunged into the room almost as if intoxicated, vision blurring over the blood and words and flame as he stumbled toward the table.

"How deep are they? And how recent?"

[torn_lavender]

Malik grimaced and reached out, caught Cain's hand, ignored the pain that shot through his shoulders once more. He had contact, now, besides that Ra-be-damned table and the hot, heavy air. An anchor.

"Deep enough... but at least half of them are... a-ah... cauterized, and not... not bleeding... I don't know... when... before I sent you the message, I don't know h-how long..." His voice trailed off, weak. He honestly couldn't remember how long it had been - even since he'd sent the message. A while, he was sure.

"There, you see? Not so bad. I'll leave you here, merwet. Perhaps someone will take pity on you."

[face_downcast]

His hand wrapped instantly around Malik's as he moved closer, giving a faint reassuring squeeze. Golden eyes dashed over the painful signs scrawled into his friend's back. In an odd way, Cain wanted to touch the mess, to get blood and sin on his fingers, to connect with someone who had earnestly suffered what he had... if not more, really.

Instead, he only got a tighter grip on Malik's hand, bending closer to better hear the soft murmuring voice.

"How can I help you, Malik?" the Brit whispered, managing to keep his voice fairly calm. "I'm going to bring you to Ryou, but first... how do I help you here? Now? Please?"

[torn_lavender]

Malik's eyes slipped closed, comfort from such an insignificant touch somehow instantaneous nonetheless. He sighed. He knew it was too much, to drop all this on Cain; it was unfair to expect him to help with this burden, even if only for a moment. But who else could he have asked?

"There's... there's a first-aid kit, under the bed in the room down the hall... it's got a couple rolls of bandages in it... if you wouldn't mind...?"