Leashed | • • • | Blue Exorcist

One Ticket Please

Tsk tsk. I'm such a lazy author. I can barely keep these stories alive. Anywho, enjoy!

Yukio's POV:

Well this was awkward

Minutes have passed and my twin and I haven't said a damn thing. I was standing, waiting for him to say something, anything. Yet, he remained silent, hovering in the same spot he had since the curtain had been drawn and slowly swayed to a rest. It was almost as if Shura had left and time halted, Both our breathing the only thing to be heard. I watched as he cradled his arms, hugging them tightly, like he was trying to comfort himself. My palms itched with the need to reach out, pull him into my arms, and comfort him myself.

I knew, however, that he didn't want that.

I could sense it, almost as if he had said it to me clearly, that he couldn't handle that physical contact. Call it twin telepathy if you want, or maybe I was just observant at the moment. I could read his body language like a book. The way he kept his eyes hidden, swept underneath the blackness of his hair. The way his legs were drawn in, sitting cross-legged on the shallow hospital bed, his shoulders slumped forward. Those were all blatant cries for isolation, but there was more to his posture. I scanned his form, noting how his heart was beating so fiercely that I could see his pulse against the skin of his neck. His hands, while held firmly against his ribs, were white-knuckled; and the slight tremor when he would occasionally fidget and readjust his fingers, before finally withdrawing and shoving his nail back into his palms. Ultimately, it was his breath that hit me the hardest. There was so much to take in visually, but the only thing that assaulted my eardrums was the air from his lungs, and they way it quaked as it passed his lips.

He was terrified, and I couldn't blame him. After the last few days, his life seemed to be in shambles. And goddammit, no matter how mature and stoic I portray myself, I felt the same way. I could feel my own unease, and I unclenched my fists for a moment to allow the blood to flow back into my fingers, taking a deep breath to soothe myself.

The aura that surrounded him is what set us apart. At first glance, we appeared to be cut from the same cloth; two hesitant teenagers shoved into a clinical ICU room, the air as heavy as if we were stationed at the top of Mount Everest. Yet, my twin was practically exuding toxicity. The word didn't sit right as it fluttered in my head. Rin wasn't toxic, but the air around him was. Hostility, ferocity, wrath, and bitterness cascaded off his tightly wound body and slammed into me repeatedly. I'd be deceiving myself if I didn't believe part of my apprehension wasn't because of him.

He was like a cornered, feral animal.

With that thought, I made a decision. He was obviously in no position to be making the first move with this. Quite frankly, I had no idea if this terrorized version of my twin was on the offensive or defensive. Rationally, I needed to be the one to act first if I wanted to be in control of the situation, especially if this had a chance at getting out of hand.

Wiping my clammy hands on my shirt, I resolved myself to appear calm. I took a few careful steps before placing myself gently on the mattress beside Rin. Immediately, his slumped shoulders squared and his breathing hiked. For a moment, I regretted my decision and I almost pushed myself off the mattress. But curiosity began to bubble inside of me. I wanted to know everything my twin had experienced while we were apart. And I definitely wanted to know what had happened to land him in the ICU. However, I know that I won't like any answer he gives me.

Time to rip off the bandage, "what happened?" I meant it to be casual, as to not push him any further into anxiety. Yet, my question came out quiet and guarded. He remained motionless and I wondered if he was so deeply in a trace that he hasn't heard me. "Rin?" My fingers twitched, I was about to gently shake him, but I thought against it.