Welcome to Tokyo, Japan. January, 1991. The world has entered the technology era, portable phones, home computers, internet, video games. Japan quickly became the epicenter of the latest and greatest. Companies and factories flourished. Where money was, people followed. And while many rose to live a comfortable, happy, and delightful life from this new found money... Others did not. You see, money has this effect on people that can't be outdone. People will do anything for it. And when it starts slipping into the wrong hands, it's impossible to stop. Benethe the day time laborers and the double-shift workers, a seedy underbelly of syndicates exists. Narctics, black market, organized crime, money laundering, you name it and it's been growing as fast as the upper world economy. While many do it just to stay alive, there's those who make it their posh lifestyle. Either way, there's only one question. What would you do if the money was good enough?
JAN 29 2021: Welcome!! ƎLEMENT has been open for two weeks now and we're so happy to see such a bright beginning! If you're new feel free to drop into the discord and say hi before joining.
Be my healer; please don't leave me here [break] Beneath the storm cloud and heavy atmosphere
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It's so cold. The water reflects the streetlamp’s hues as it falls from the sky. Each drop seemed louder than the last. Pitter patter. They bounce off tin roofs, they splatter as they hit the ground. The world is doubled in the image of the puddles, constantly rippling. Always disturbed. It seems so serene, yet so chaotic – overwhelming – all at once. With every water drop splashing against their skin, a shiver would follow. It was so cold, but they couldn’t move. They felt paralyzed as they just watch the rain fall. Fall onto the world; the trees, buildings, pathways and roads. Everything was entrenched in this shivering hell. [break] [break] Katsuki’s mind was foggy, as they curled up tighter in the barely covered alleyway. They were stuck and didn’t know what to do. Rain fell on them, no matter how tightly they huddled up to the wall. It just wasn’t enough. Was anything really enough? Were they enough? They hold their head between their hands, face hidden in their knees. Their thin frame shakes, violently. What would they do? [break] [break] Their body throbbed from head to toe. Each joint creaked with displeasure. They could feel the inflammation in their bones. It was like they were swelling, burning from the inside while their skin was cold as ice. Their abdomen throbbed. It felt like someone was reaching up inside them and trying to pull their misplaced womb out of their body. Their skin itched with irritation, inflamed skin scaley and itchy to touch. The rain stinged at the open scratches along their arms and chest, unable to keep their nails out of their flesh. Being in this body was a nightmare. They felt so trapped. [break] [break] Katsuki hadn’t enjoyed being woken by the rain, having crashed out in a park doped up on opioids yet again. Their head hurt, it felt distant, detached, yet the throbbing kept them grounded just enough to feel every unpleasant pain their body had to offer. They felt like they were dying, yet no one cared enough to help them. Their illness wasn’t terminal, but the distortion in their mind was sure on track. There’s nothing more to do, the doctors would tell them. It wasn’t good enough. Was Katsuki not worth the effort of treating? If they would at least help them manage the pain, maybe they could be better. [break] [break] Yet here they were, sitting, rotting in the rain, with nowhere to go. They didn’t even know where they were. They couldn’t even bargain with themselves; ‘just make it down the road, and you’ll be somewhere warm and safe’. Katsuki was failing at life in every way they could imagine. They were failing the studies they’d once been so eager to begin. They struggled to keep contact with their family. They’d turn to illegal ways of getting by, dependent on the illicit drugs to free them from the hells of their body and mind. They’d fallen so far off track just because of one change. Illness had drove them insane. It had isolated them. They were alone. [break] [break] Katsuki’s nails claw at the exposed skin, trying to just hold themselves together as they sobbed into their knees. The pain was too much. Living like this was too much. Lost and alone, they had no idea what to do with themselves.
[attr="class","seiichipost-lyrics"] show me your colors
[attr="class","seiichipost-body"]A man’s figure cuts through the curtain of rain. The drops pelt him relentlessly, sinking into his clothes, sticking his hair to his scalp, and kissing his skin with sheer cold.
He walks with a spring to his step, kicking the puddles and smashing their mirrors with his even strides. He’s soaked and alone, yet he looks like the happiest motherfucker on this planet. And why shouldn’t he be crowned thus? Why should he be denied the honor, when his senses are blessed with petrichor, when every direction expands so generously, and excessively, for him and him alone?
Life’s worries are rolling off his skin as smoothly as the rain. His hands are in his pockets, fiddling, twitching, as restless as the brain bouncing inside his head. Their fingertips rub against precious cargo wrapped in neat little packages and plastic needles. Excess. The day had offered him a job and he’d done it and then some. What else does it have to offer him?
He finds himself having wandered into a cute little park. Not much around in terms of people, even the juveniles of his trade aren’t around to loiter and ensnare some poor little high schooler or salary shmuck. The people have fled off to their little shelters, like barnyard animals.
If he keeps walking forwards, he’ll find home. If he snoops around, he might find those ‘friends’ of his.
Instead, he finds a lost sheep. He’s standing at the mouth of an alley, one so small and squeezed so tight it seems the city itself is baring down on it. The rain still slips through, and it pours, bathing the shivering stranger as they press against the wall, as if that could save them, or perhaps as if they could disappear into it.
His eyes trail down to the discolored skin, its harsh reds and flaking hard to miss even in the shade and rain. The stranger rakes their fingers over it again and again. They are sobbing.
He steps forward, shoes scratching against wet concrete, and gets down to sit on his haunches in front of them. He rests his chin on his hand, watching as if this were as captivating as a television show, waiting for them to notice. When he finally decides to speak, he does so in a deep, lazy drawl: “You know, even if you peel off all your skin, it’s not going to grow back stronger, little sheep.”
Be my healer; please don't leave me here [break] Beneath the storm cloud and heavy atmosphere
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Katsuki is trapped in their own mind. There was no one wandering the streets in this weather. Nobody would stumble upon them, surely and they would be left to wait out the pain flare and find somewhere to go alone. Nobody would save them, pick them up. No matter how much they wished and pleaded to the silence of the universe, they would be met with the emptiness of the void. The unending void that would continue to consume them. Their mind, their body, deteriorating while they were left to fight it on their own.
[break][break]
“You know, even if you peel off all your skin, it’s not going to grow back stronger, little sheep.”
[break][break]
They are startled from their dissociative trance, face peeling from the safe haven of their knees – hidden from the world. Swollen eyes are met with eyes of a faux purple colour. Katsuki finds themselves lost in the details of the other’s contacts, making out the faint details they could in the dark. They suppose they were like a sheep. Frizzy bleached white hair clinging to the equally pale tint of their skin, so lost in the moment, with no guidance to follow blindly. What they would give to have someone take them by the hand, know just what they need, take them to a place where things are better. Their eyes peel away from the other’s who looked with an expression of intrigue. The darker iris’s fall to look at the damage they’d done to themselves. Rashes came up in spotted reds where there hadn’t been enough abrasion to tear the skin, to slowly seep just enough blood to feel something within their own control (although, how much control did they really have? Likely, not a whole lot.)
[break][break] “No, it’ll just grow back in scabs, itchy scales and other forms of equally irritated skin anew,” they croak out in response. The remaining tears simply blend with the rain, but their hiccups and sobs pause in the presence of another. While they make no effort to put themself back together, they can’t express as freely as they could alone. Their body rattles with another shiver, unable to pause the shaking. It was no warmer now than just moments before.
[break][break] “What are you doing out in the rain? Shouldn’t you be at home, snuggled up tightly after a fulfilling day?” Katsuki queries with a drip of venom – jealousy, assuming that the world must be doing better than them at something. They look back up to the other, teeth chattering between heavy breaths. The air felt so thick to breath, trying to just grasp at the oxygen between the rain that just wouldn’t let up.
[attr="class","seiichipost-lyrics"] show me your colors
[attr="class","seiichipost-body"]His words do the trick. The stranger raises their head and he finally gets a good look at them. Their overbleached hair frames eyes bloodshot from crying, the skin of their face as ghost pale as the rest of their spindly body—the parts that aren’t marred with rashes and blood, that is. They look the picture of pitiful itself. They look like they’d struggle to knock at death’s door.
The seed of his fascination cracks its shell and begins to take root.
He’s delighted by how they respond. Their voice creaks like the floorboards of a broken home, but they speak rather eloquently—at least compared to the street urchins he’s used to dealing with—how nice. “Does it? What is your condition? Does it hurt when it's touched?” He doesn’t bar the questions as they come. The best part about meeting someone new is that anything they do, anything they say, is worth noting. You can’t begin a puzzle without pieces, after all.
The sheep’s question is laced with blatant contempt. They don’t know each other well enough for him to assume it’s personal, so it must be against the world as a whole, and it solidifies his theory on who they are: the most miserable person on earth.
He finds it strangely pleasing, as if fate had chosen to let them meet so he could witness their juxtaposition. His false purple eyes are lidded, his smile wide and encompassing. A drop of rain falls down his cheek and trails over his lip, down his chin. “I could. I have a nice house, warm blankets, and I’ve had a fulfilling day—I could do that. I can do anything I want.”
He watches the chattering of their teeth, their breath so ragged he can hear it over the light roar of the rain. His own breathing, by contrast, is slow and warm, the mellow feeling in his chest still burning bright from an earlier hit. Nothing feels urgent. There is only patient intrigue.
“How about you? Shouldn’t you be home? I doubt your family would be too pleased with you taking a public bath in the streets.” He chuckles lightly. Anyone who looks like this—he’d be surprised if they’re still in contact with their family. Most of the people he met on the streets aren't or can’t, including him.
Be my healer; please don't leave me here [break] Beneath the storm cloud and heavy atmosphere
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“Psoriasis. It’s an inflammatory autoimmune disorder. It’ll flare up to any abrasion of my skin, or in areas too warm. Doesn’t hurt, not to touch. Just itches when it’s irritated,” they explain almost plainly, matter of fact. They’d said it a thousand times before. This time was no different, just defaulting to a pre-prepared response. They didn’t even have to think about it anymore. Katsuki untucks themselves a little, allowing their knees to unlock from their position, although still held fairly close for warmth. They lift their hand and wiggle the lanky digits, each joint popping and cracking with every little movement. “It even inflames my joints, gives me a kind of arthritis. That hurts like a bitch,” they compare, with some form of humor, as weak as it may be. Katsuki pulls their hand back to themself, holding it close to their chest, trying to tuck their arms behind their legs. [break][break]
Katsuki doesn’t even really bother to question the other’s queries. They don’t bother to ponder his intentions. They don’t really care. Taking interest in a delicate skeleton in the streets, it wasn’t that strange a concept to them. Yet they watch his face closely. There’s a certain coolness to this mysterious stranger, Katsuki notes. It’s not just his aesthetic that intrigues them, but the way this man held himself, the way he talked and the way his face formed certain expressions. He seems so casual but in a way that alludes there’s a level of complexity, perhaps of control, working behind his exterior. Katsuki wonders for a moment what it’s like to be there, in this man's mind. They cannot imagine it however, trapped inside their own thoughts. They internalized this overwhelming sense of doom, a finiteness that they can’t escape. But they could, had they the supplies to do so, they think. [break][break]
“So, you’ve chosen to be here instead? How fortunate you must be to have that choice,” Katsuki returns, eyes narrowed slightly, but not so committed to the malice they presented. With a heavy sigh, although shaky, they shrug it off. [break][break] “For that to happen, they’d have to find out about it first. They’re not exactly around to really worry about it,” the return a little sour. They can tell there was almost purpose behind the purple-haired man’s words and they respond to it regardless. It doesn’t bother them to be provoked into response. There’s a small part of them to not be so giving of information to a complete stranger of unknown intentions, but it’s shrugged off into the back of their mind. Katsuki didn’t bother worrying themself with such things anymore. Their end would come eventually in one way or another, likely soon, so what did it really matter? “Besides, not exactly my choice to wake up here. When I feel... better, I tend to go on adventures, but I have to crash eventually, don’t I? I don't even know where I am, fun fact.”
[attr="class","seiichipost-lyrics"] show me your colors
[attr="class","seiichipost-body"]His answers come without any resistance. The sheep speaks with mechanical indifference, clearly having been asked to death about it, and he finds he doesn’t mind. While some fight can be entertaining at times, he’s filling out the handy little checklist in his head and he welcomes the effort that’s saved from not having to wrangle them out of this stranger’s throat.
Psoriasis. He feels like he’s heard of it before, from the trembling lips of one of his countless clients from around the world. Persistent conditions like these make it easy for people to fall into the pit that funds his business. They beg for relief every day of their lives, and this stranger is no different—perhaps even a shining example. It would be needless cruelty and an insult to his art to leave them here.
They demonstrate their creaking movements, and it is like watching a marionette. He can never empathize. This pain is beyond his scope, but that is part of why it intrigues him so deeply. He cannot feel it, only observe, and wonder. He wonders if this person is just as hollow as a marionette. Would he have to tie strings on them?
He welcomes their scrutiny with the same, unyielding smile. He knows he’s a strange fellow. They look as if they want to peek inside his head. If he could crack his skull open and show them, he would, just to see if they’d agree with his thoughts.
“I am. You aren’t without choices either, you know,” he hums. He finds he likes listening to them, however defeatist every word out of their mouth is. They’re funny. “You could’ve chosen to hide under a bridge, or in a sewer, but instead, you’re here too.”
Their conversation continues, and he ticks off another box on his list. Their family is alive, but gone. Curious, since they seem intelligent, clearly educated, and however severe the condition is, surely no parent would abandon their child just for that reason alone. Then again, people could be cruel. “So they left you. I wonder why.”
Their next statement makes him rather happy. It brushes his curiosity. “Adventures, you say? Now that sounds wonderful.” He loves adventures. He goes on them every day, whether it’s out and about or in the creative chaos of his lab.
“Well, my dear sheep, I can tell you where you are. You are… in the presence of a good Samaritan.” The statement is accompanied by a goofy smile. He rocks back on his haunches, one hand reaching into his pockets.
“I’m sure you’re in a lot of pain. Perhaps this will help.” He raises a clear little bag, scarcely enough to hold anything but the pills currently rattling inside it. The rain droplets drool over the plastic, but you can still see the shape of the pills, their white shells, and the tiny, tiny lettering spelling ‘Vicodin’ over their surface. “Do you know what this is?” He asks, shaking the little bag.
Be my healer; please don't leave me here [break] Beneath the storm cloud and heavy atmosphere
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Katsuki’s eyes divert away from the discussion of choice. They knew entirely well that the other was correct, however they couldn’t bring themselves to face that. They couldn’t even remember what they were thinking in the moments they’d awoken. Everything was foggy. There was only so much brain fog they could avoid when the sensations of their body demanded so much attention. So instead, they just continue to listen. They can't help but watch the other’s features. The way his muscles kept his lips tugged up in some strange smile. He can’t help being entertained and Katsuki was fascinated by that. [break][break]
“So they left you. I wonder why.” [break][break]
Katsuki shakes their head sheepishly. “No, it’s not their fault. Our distance is on me,” Katsuki clarifies and defends. Their fingers fiddle with each other mindlessly. They rub together in worry, thoughts of guilt wondering what they could do differently. They know their mother would be there for them in a heartbeat if they could just admit to weakness, that things weren’t fine. Things hadn’t been fine in a very long time. Nobody that asked could know that though. Katsuki didn’t show the side of themself that was presented before the purple coded character adjacent them. What was it to mean, that this man met Katsuki like this? [break][break]
They hum in agreement. Adventures were something fantastic. Even if Katsuki could never revel in their sporadic plans after the fact, they remember the bliss they felt. “I enjoy making the best use of my newfound freedom. I don’t feel well all too often. So, when I do...” Katsuki pulls a grin. They think fondly, smugly about the various things they would get up to. They would feel so alive. Their breath steadies for a moment as their mind brings their attention back to a better place. They moisten their lips, as their gaze drifts further past the man. They sigh in longing, before allowing their attention to the other’s words. [break][break]
The little bag captures their line of sight, and it’s clear with the way their eyes widen. Their shoulders relax, and the tension is gone from their body for a brief moment. The relief of knowing it was there. This was an option. That alone, Katsuki could breathe for a second. Their eyes soften looking back into the purple contacts, they watch the words on the man’s lips. [break][break]
“Of course, I know what they are, the psoriasis is just the tip of the iceberg. The first time I took opioids it was prescribed,” Katsuki replies, intent as they look at the drugs before them. They’ve leant forward slightly, subconsciously trying to narrow the gap between them and possible relief. They look closer at the other man, moving their knees out of their way. They want to understand him, and they look closer, closer, to see if they can notice anything new. “Who are you? What do you want for that?” Katsuki gestures with their eyes, to the obvious subject at hand. “Surely you want something in return.”
[attr="class","seiichipost-lyrics"] show me your colors
[attr="class","seiichipost-body"]They confirm recognizing the drug in his hand but he’s not waiting for words—he’s waiting for a bite. First is the softening of their features, the relaxing of their body in Pavlovian response to the bag, then comes the lean. They move ever so slightly forwards as if tugged by a line. Catch of the day.
For as brief as their encounter has been, he’s gathered some decent initial data. It’s confirmed their family is alive, but not estranged in the way he’d assumed. From the guilt laced in their fidgeting and their vehement defense, they still held that family close, but they’d been motivated to keep them at a distance—even without the details, it’s clear why.
Inwardly, Seiichi huffs. A little inconvenient, but not a dealbreaker. He can work with this. He can use this.
Then there’s their intelligence. He’s worked with too many mindless, desperate junkies. There’s something to be said by how surprised and pleased he is that their first reaction hadn’t been to try ripping the bag out of his hands. He’s too strong for that to work, but logic rarely drives those attempts.
This one, however. They talk in a way that doesn’t kill his senses. They think, despite the state of them and their fixation. His interest is clear when they mention ‘tip of the iceberg’, and he doesn’t move nor flinch as they draw closer, as their stare digs deeper into his. It makes him wish they'd just open their mouth. Such curiosity. Or was it wariness?
He smiles wide as they ask who he is. “Call me Seiichi,” he says, not Ziggurat or Sakugawa; Seiichi is the name he gives to people he intends to know—to keep. “And I’m sure you’re smart enough to guess what I do, considering I just whipped out a bag of Vicodin like fucking Houdini.” He laughs.
They cut right to the chase. He respects that. “So you know how this goes,” he says amiably, but the grin on his face takes on a new sharpness. His eyes continue to laugh. “Then you should also know that you don’t have much to offer.” Not a yen to them from the looks of their humble abode. He doubts they have connection or gang intel he’d need either, but he’ll confirm it soon.
There’s the sound of ripping. His nails shred a tiny hole in the bag. He raises a single little pill pinched between his index and middle finger, like a peace sign. “Let’s start with a name. And considering this is genuine Vicodin—” not the counterfeit shit they feed to idiots “—tell me what else ails you.”
Be my healer; please don't leave me here [break] Beneath the storm cloud and heavy atmosphere
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They feel frozen in place, locked into the eye contact. Even as he smiles, Katsuki’s eyes do not leave his. They know they should question his motives more, as he begins to talk. They’re fully aware of the warning ringing in the back of their mind. They choose to ignore them. They don’t care to hear thoughts of caution anymore. They know the things they do are dangerous, and they would likely remain that way until the day they died. That day might not even be that far off, even if they allowed it to natural causes. So really, what was the point in heeding a warning? For the chances things would get better? Those chances were so slim, they may not exist at all. Not for someone like Katsuki. [break][break]
So, they smile hearing the other’s name. Seiichi. It didn’t sound like a fake name, but they question its validity regardless. They scan Seiichi’s features once again, taking in everything they could through the foggy lens of their mind. Katsuki remembers Seiichi. They make sure to remember everything they can. Seiichi is someone to remember, Katsuki thinks. Especially as they watch the man’s fingers make their way through to the drugs displayed before them. They shake, but they feel steady as he talks. This was the beginning of something Katsuki thinks they can play. Do whatever it takes to get the drug; the same game they play every day. [break][break]
“Easy. Katsuki. Some people call me Tsuki. Although, I’ll respond to most designated nicknames,” they respond casually. They’re not willing to give Seiichi their full name, not until they knew his at least. They sigh, ready to word vomit the details of their illness. “Endometriosis. It’s surprisingly common, but there’s minimal research on it, no specialization on it, and can even turn cancerous. A tissue similar to the uterine lining grows as tumors, usually around the reproductive system,” they begin, using their shaking hands to gesture as they explain. Katsuki allows their hands to rest on their lower abdomen. “For me this presents as severe, debilitating abdominal pain, severe lethargy, weakness, digestion complications, sciatic pain, and other various wearing pains. Sometimes I wouldn’t even be able to get out of bed if I'm not high,” they explain, listing one thing after the other. Again, they seem unenthused, lazily going through a readied script. It’s something they explain often, and it’s boring. They’re bored of being sick. That’s why they like being high. It stimulates them, frees them from the cage of illness. [break][break] “What’s next Seiichi? What else do you want to know about me?” They query, tilting their head. They watch him curiously. Not many dealers were particularly intriguing to Katsuki, but there was a mystery to Seiichi that had them happy to play along with whatever Seiichi wanted. Perhaps they would learn something interesting? Would they get to learn Seiichi’s character? What about them had Seiichi so interested in them?
[attr="class","seiichipost-lyrics"] show me your colors
[attr="class","seiichipost-body"]Ka-tsu-ki. He rolls that name around, rolls it as his fingers do to the pill in his grasp. It’s a nice name. He muses, finding the contrast between the meaning of the name and the person it’s for rather funny. Their parents must have had high hopes for them.
There’s a slight raise of his brows at the sight of their smile. Had hearing his name pleased them? Offering first names off the bat is atypical by Japanese etiquette; he’s too impatient for the conventions, and this stranger is clever to follow suit. Without a surname, it will be hard to track their family.
The light is snuffed as they move on to answer his other question, and he feels a bout of genuine pity. Not for the condition they suffer—although it did sound excruciating, and in combination with their psoriasis, arthritis, and their general state of disrepair, it was truly a wonder how they could stand to be conscious, let alone sober—but for the tedium the questioning brought them. The look on his face is almost sympathetic: he understood that gnawing boredom, connected to the desire for catharsis through insobriety.
“Plenty,” he admits. “I still have questions. But I'm not that cruel.” His voice is gentle. They’ve been very good so far; they’ve answered all his questions perfectly. As obedient and clever as a teacher’s pet. He feels inclined to give them a reward.
Obedience is commendable and it comes in many forms. Answering questions is easy. His hand itches to test—to pull that obedience taut and see where it snaps. But you don’t throw a fresh mouse into the most complex maze. You observe, you take note, and you up the difficulty one step at a time.
His hand moves towards Katsuki, stopping with the pill tightly pinched between its fingers, right up to their lips. “Open your mouth.” He watches, curious to see if they’ll follow the order or rebuke it.
Admittedly, he’s also curious to see their reaction to the drug. One surely wouldn't be enough. How many? How much would it take for the euphoria to turn into nauseating sedation?
Be my healer; please don't leave me here [break] Beneath the storm cloud and heavy atmosphere
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Katsuki knows themself to be smart, follow along where necessary. They weren’t a doormat, but they sure were a people pleaser, and with good reason. It’s easier. They know how to please, to avoid trouble and conflict. They’d be happy to go to any lengths necessary to get what they need. However, they can’t help but soften at the insinuated praise. They’d been good. Even if Seichii didn’t say it, reward was for praise. He’s gentle in that moment and Katsuki can’t help but crave more. They could please this strange man, and there was a strange euphoria to that. To be fair, it’s what kept them going in their line of work aside from the money or the drugs. Validation, praise for a good job well done. There’s something comfortable about working for others, meeting their every demand, and Katsuki doesn't plan on stopping that anytime soon. [break][break]
So, they don’t reply with words this time. They listen to Seiichi’s command. Despite the chattering of their teeth and the freezing cold that wants to keep their jaw locked tight, they part their lips. There’s no fight, no questions. They just allow their tongue to lull softly on their lip, sticking it out for the other man to place the drug onto. They’re almost submissive. They listen to their short-term savior’s words. In this moment, all that existed was to live to Seiichi’s demands. Listening would give them reward. That much they knew in general, but it seemed Seiichi valued this obedience. They’d do it a thousand times again to get the things they want. Katsuki tells themself that they’re only doing this for the drugs, for personal gain, but they’re intrinsically fascinated by the man placing the drug in their mouth. They could delude themselves into thinking they’re in control, but was unlikely to realize the reality of the situation.
[attr="class","seiichipost-lyrics"] show me your colors
[attr="class","seiichipost-body"]For a moment, there’s nothing but the patter of rain against concrete. Their mouth trembles from the cold he can ignore, but there isn’t an ounce of fight at his demand; they part their lips and accept it even from a stranger’s fingers. Unlike his earlier smiles, his mouth doesn’t stretch, but his contentment is apparent in the crinkles under his eyes and the slightest upturn of lip.
Something warm curls inside him. It feels an awful lot like endearment, the feeling you get when you meet something so exceptionally helpless, but there’s a territorial instinct woven between the cracks. He resolves, then, that even if this one were involved in a rival gang or working for someone else, he would take them regardless.
“You’re a docile one,” He hums, pressing the pill onto their tongue. His hand returns to cushioning his chin, the other still holding the plastic bag. He waits for them to swallow while silently tapping the covered pills with one finger, thinking, observing.
His other hand raises the bag. “You want more, don’t you?” It takes Vicodin nearly an hour to settle in, half that on an empty stomach, and that’s not taking into consideration a higher tolerance. That little 10mg pill modifies how the body reacts to pain, granting considerable relief and the high sensation so many crave.
Assuming it’s enough.
His sneakers scratch against the ground. He stands casually, abruptly, with the bag dangling like a pendulum in his hand. While he could spend the rest of the day there, squatting with an addict and hand-feeding them opioids in an alleyway under the rain, he’d gotten bored of the scenery and was starting to miss his home and his wider array of tools.
His eyes rove over them once more, head tilted down to stare from the elevation. “I can give you more. The pills, a warm bed, money... safety. In exchange, you work for me.” He doesn’t elaborate; the job is simple, they should know what it entails, but his tone near the end is final. It is the sound of a gavel hitting sound block. Seiichi, who was raised alone and ritually monopolized his guardian’s attention for 20 years, did not fucking share.
He tilts his head to the side, ever so slightly. Hair sticks around his face, rainwater dribbling down the tresses in little streams. “What do you say?”
Be my healer; please don't leave me here [break] Beneath the storm cloud and heavy atmosphere
[attr="class","complanet-post"]
it to the back of their throat. They muster up all the saliva they can manage and swallow it roughly down. There’s a slight resistance that comes when one doesn’t hydrate enough, or follow up with water, but Katsuki has no issue with it. They’d take fistfuls of various medications, and swallow them dry. This was nothing for Katsuki, but knowing they had something more than nothing, the anxiety releases from their shoulder before showing their tongue to Seiichi, to prove the pill swallowed in an almost teasing manner. [break][break]
“You’re a docile one.” [break][break] “Only when I need to be.” [break][break]
With a twisted smile, one more comfortable, they continue to listen to Seiichi as he tangles all the possible treats – rewards – before them. They give him time to explain, finish talking. Katsuki wants to hear what he has in mind. Katsuki has a feeling they know, and listening to Seiichi offer abode, and work, Katsuki knows that they are right. Seiichi wants exactly what Katsuki has to give. What a beautiful balance, Katsuki thinks. It’ll get them through the night, and likely more to come. They’re right to remember Seiichi. [break][break]
“Well then, consider me all yours,” Katsuki quickly agrees. They don’t linger on caution, but instead take to confidence. They shrug into their shoulder, looking between the pills so close they could just reach out and touch them, and the man Katsuki decides is interesting enough to abandon any alarm bells in the back of their mind. Chattering they take a slow breath, before raising their eyebrows. “Well, I would like to get out of the rain sooner rather than later, but that’s just me,” Katsuki can’t help but jest in addition.
