blood red.
cw. mentions of blood/wounds, swearing.
fangs bared and flaring tempers. animosity in every look, an intensity that bubbles from just being in the same room. hate burns red, but then again, so does love. after all, isn't hate still an emotion of passion?
king is annoyed. he's pissed off, irritated – maybe even angry.
he drums his fingers against the fabric of the armchair. there’s a rip in his shirt, his hair is a mess, and – worst of all – his helmet is broken. he pushes his hair out of his face, irked that he can’t tie it up.
the bane of his existence walks in with a first aid kit. he sighs, loudly and obnoxiously, and you glare at him as you sit down.
“don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be.”
“who’s the one that made it difficult in the first place?”
without missing a beat, you simply state, "that would be you."
you carry on, unwrapping bandages, as king merely gapes at you. ever since kaidou placed you under his supervision, you have been nothing but disrespectful, disobedient and disruptive to what should have been an otherwise simple job.
"i'm not the one who tried to climb out a 10-story window," he hisses. "i should've let you fall straight into those thorns."
"no one asked you to help," you reply coolly.
the absolute gall of you.
"believe me, i don't care if you die," he squirms in his seat, biting back the sting of his cuts. "but kaidou wants you alive."
"as if i care what kaidou wants," you mutter as you cut away at his shirt. when he pulls away, you hold down his arm. "stop moving."
the idea of some brat ordering him around makes his blood boil, and if it weren't for the fact that he'd likely start bleeding again, king would love nothing more than to put you in your place.
"i'm not the problem," you continue, ignoring his death glare. "you're the one that's been hissy this whole time. you must be nothing special if your only responsibility is babysitting."
at the attack on his pride, his last thread of patience snaps. "you annoying brat! can't you just fucking cooperate?"
"fuck you!" you finally crack, a fierce anger taking over. "you want people to cooperate then maybe don't lock them up!"
"i wouldn't have to lock you up if you weren't such a pain in the ass!"
"i wouldn't be a pain in the ass if you weren't being an ass to begin with!" you grab his arm. "now fucking hold still!"
you slap disinfectant on king's bloody gash, and he howls at the sting. "that hurts, dammit!"
he glowers at you, seething at the pain. you tell yourself that he deserves it, but – to your annoyance – you can't bring yourself to relish in his suffering. unfortunately, you're not nearly as heartless as king is.
there's a twinge of guilt as you take in his dirty clothes and blood-stained skin.
he wouldn't be in this mess if he didn't rush to catch you.
to king's surprise, you don't make any sort of retort or taunt at his outburst. instead, you press your lips into a thin line and start wrapping his cut in silence. you apply the bandage firmly, but gently, and it doesn't go unnoticed by king.
too angry and proud to say anything else, king merely looks away as you finish dressing his injuries.
"don't move," you deadpan when you're done. "raising your arms will only open the wound."
"fine," he grits. he shakes the hair out of his face, growling in irritation when it don't move the way he wants it to.
you watch as he sighs in resignation, and that stupid voice inside you tells you to do the right thing. you curse your guilty conscience.
"here, let me help."
you stand behind king, carefully gathering his loose curls together. the air is thick with awkwardness as your gentle hands betray the hostility that you're both used to. you start tying his ponytail and take a deep breath.
"thank you," you say in a voice barely above a whisper. "for saving me."
king stills, at a crossroads for how he wants to handle this. it takes this small admission of your gratitude to make him stop and realize the gravity of the situation.
he did help you.
king – one of the all-stars of the beast pirates, right-hand-man to kaidou – showed you mercy when he had no reason to.
and you – captive of the beast pirates, prisoner against your wishes – showed him a grace that he doesn't really deserve by tending to his injuries when you had no reason to.
still staring at the wall, he mutters,
"you're welcome."
like it or not, the two of you are stuck here together – and maybe with some time and a little bit of kindness, you could learn to like it.
part of my (ongoing) character + colour series!
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I think Edgeworth should see the reboot of the Steel Samurai where the Magistrate and the Samurai come together at the end and kiss and get there happy ever after and sit in uncomprehending calm as Maya screams and cheers next to him. It is the first piece of happy ending queer media he has consumed with his whole heart. Years of internalized homophobia and Manfred, (as well as the death of Neil Marshall, his fiance) taught him that happy endings were not for people like him.
But now, now he sees they are. Stands up and goes to Wright at 930 at night and requests a date immediately. Or... The earliest convenience. Because he has decided he is done being miserable. He would like to be happy and loved and all the things the world told him he could not be because of who he was.
The man makes a list of everything he wanted to try, or has been told to try and didn’t.
He tours the coast with Maya trying out tea and ramen shops. Takes a comedy class (that he drops after the first day) with Larry. Enrolls in a tango class with Wright. (who immediately hurts his back and Lang is called in to replace him after soothing a bout of worry/jealousy for Wright) He calls Gumshoe up and they go to a shelter and pick him up a dog. Raymond and Sebastian help him collect and frame dozens of pictures to decorate his apartment. Kay takes him around an amusement park and rafting and one evening they quietly hold hands and visit their father’s graves together.
He also enrolls in therapy because “Many people have told me i should try it over the years.” (Yeah i don’t think they probably phrased it that way Miles)
He gets better. Turns out taking daily walks in the sun with Pess and vacations with Wright and hiring a few extra hands around the office Drastically improves his quality of life. Especially once the medications start working.
It’s not all good. There are days he curls up on the floor, overwhelmed by guilt. Guilt that he waited all this time to do this. Guilt that he feels happy. Guilt that he Doesn’t feel happy after deciding to be better. And Wright comes and offers him a hug. Which doesn’t fix the problem but takes a little of the weight off his shoulders for a moment. He updates the list. More hugs.
Sits in front of a camera. There is a banner behind him that says ‘its gets better’ that he is trying very hard to not say looks tacky. Adjusts his wedding ring and mentally rehearses his speech. About how:
“At age nine my father was killed in front of me and i thought the world had ended. I didn’t sleep soundly again until I was 25.” About how, “At 16 I thought i wouldn’t make it to 17 because I’d failed an exam and I thought my guardian was going to murder me. And I thought if he did, that would have been fair. And at 22 my fiance was murdered and we had kept it so secret that I wasn’t invited to his funeral and I swore off love forever.”
“And when I was 24 I attempted suicide because I believed with absolute certainty that I had ruined and wasted my entire life and could imagine no future where I was happy and deserved to be so. Happy endings do not belong to people like me.”
“And now I am 36 and married. Quite happily. So I hope you will believe me when I say that your life is not over. It need not be. You have not ‘missed your chance’ and you are never too old to start feeling better. It does... Get better.
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