Canary || [Katyusha]

[Deleted]

He clutched at the gash on his side, blood trickling out in crimson streams between his fingertips. His shirt clung to him wetly and his bruised ribs ached every time he dared to breath. He hated the thought of burdening anyone like this but he had no one else to turn to. It was the only place that he could seek refuge in and feel relatively safe – well, as safe as a house full of criminals can get.

Admittedly, he was an oddity to the Nest. A peculiarity cast into the shadow of a muddled grey area. He had done no wrong in the eyes of the law, and yet time and time again the law turned a blind eye towards him. The only crime he was guilty of was being a commonly overlooked case. The police could not-- No. He corrected himself mentally. No, they would not help him. Who would believe him, anyway? It always was his word against hers.

He limped his way to the door, his back hunched over. It hurt too much to stand up straight. He rapped his knuckles lightly on the wood – and let himself in before he could be spotted. It was an unnecessary habit, done out of a frivolous sense of courtesy but it did not feel right any other way. How many times had he been here before? Was this his third visit? Fourth? ...Sixth? He didn't know. He couldn't keep his thoughts straight. He stumbled and muttered a slurred apology. His head swam and everything sounded vaguely under water to his ringing ears. If she had said anything, he hadn't heard it.

He sighed. It had been his fault after all.

If he hadn't provoked her in the first place then this wouldn't have happened. He crossed the line and now he had to face the consequences.

[Katyusha Chernenko]

велике спасибі Katyusha was worried. It's been a while since Toris' last visit and she hadn't heard anything from him yet. Sure he might had been busy with his job, but it didn't erase the chance that someone already got him. Someone who knew that he didn't belong in their world. In her world. Someone knocked on her door. But before Katyusha reached it, her guest already stumbling inside. It was Toris, and he was bleeding. "Toris?" she called him, her voice hitched slightly. Her hands caught him before he fell on the floor. "Toris... Toris, can you hear me?" The Lithuanian was too heavy and she might make the wound worse by trying to drag him to the spare room. So she gently laid him down on the floor, a pillow placed under his head. He might catch a cold if Katyusha left him here, but she didn't want to take the risk. She returned to the living room with her usual kit and a large bowl of hot water. After sterilizing the area around the wound, Katyusha began to stitch the gash. She wondered who had done it to him, why he became the target; was it a targeted crime or he just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? Some people were attacked because of that reason. Once the wound was stitched, Katyusha draped blankets over him. She leaned on the wall, a cup of coffee in her hand. The woman was dead tired, but she had to stay awake in case Toris woke up and needed something. Plus, she needed to think about how to move him to the spare bedroom... "Toris, really, what happened to you?" she muttered, eyes barely open. The coffee barely helped to ease her drowsiness. She started feeling guilty by letting him visited her so often. Commoners shouldn't have involved with her after all.

MADE BY MINNIE OF BACK TO NEVERLAND

[Deleted]

She peeled away his shirt and dabbed at the wound with a warm washcloth. He hissed and clenched his teeth as sting of the antiseptic took hold. She wrung out the rag and the water ran pink with blood. His blood he thought lazily.

A lump caught in his throat and his skin prickled at the sight of the needle. He shut his eyes and remained as still as death, save for barest of breath, as she set to work. Stitch after stitch, she pushed the needle through tender flesh in his side and brought the seams together expertly. It felt like ages to him, but before he knew it she was done.

He sat up compliantly and let her wrap bandages around the wound. Despite the pain, her hands were gentle and warm to the touch. She reminded him a bit of his mother, fussing and fretting over him. Hah. Of all the times to feel like he was being smothered. He sighed and relaxed – but always kept his guard – as the weight of several heavy woolen blankets pressed on top him.

A thought came to mind, but he would have to ask her later. He lay there trying to make sense of what had happened, but exhaustion eventually overtook him. His eyelids grew heavy and he drifted off into an uneasy slumber.

~~~~~
She was in a good mood. The way her eyes lit up could shame the sun and when she smiled his heart melted a little. She greeted him warmly with a kiss and traced circles into his skin with more pressure than was comfortable.

What did you think you were doing earlier? she whispered sweetly, her breath hot against his ear.

He paused. A switch had been flipped.

The faint scent of ozone clung in the air. It was the calm before the storm.

It was in that moment that he became aware that he had suddenly broken some sort of unspoken rule. Everything had been running so smoothly. He retraced his steps over and over again and tried to see where he went wrong, but he kept coming up short.

He let out a nervous laugh and opened his mouth to speak, gaping and grasping at loose straws. What excuse could he possibly come up for her this time? He swallowed hard and pursed his lips shut into a tight seal. There simply was no good way to answer this.

There never was.
~~~~~

With a gasp, he jolted awake and shot up in a cold sweat. "...Atsiprašau, I'm sorry--" He clasped his hands over his mouth. ...Had he been talking in his sleep? He clutched the covers and scanned the room desperately. His heart pounded in his chest. How long had he been out? ...Was she here?

He coughed harshly. His throat was parched and he desperately needed a drink.