Chapter 27 - Chishiya's POV

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Chishiya didn't trust anyone.

That was an irrefutable fact. Sometimes he liked to indulge in others, make them feel like he trusts them and then pull the rug from under their feet.

The closest person he has to a confidant would be Kuina, and they work out because she understands and respects his boundaries. She never meddles, and in return, he spares an ear or two for her opinion.

They lean on each other occasionally, only because they have the same goal and it's easier to have allies. If Kuina was shot, he would debate for a while over saving her, before ultimately deciding to help, but why was he helping you without hesitation?

Chishiya didn't understand why he was tending to your wound, why he was careful in removing the bullet, and why he dutifully cleaned and wrapped your side. The most logical thing to do when you got shot was to just walk away, not caring whether you bled out or miraculously survived, but for some reason the thought made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

At the start, you were a chess piece. He watched you in the tag game and appreciated your intelligence. Even though you were a nuisance at times (all the time), he knew how you would fit into his plan, how he could use you to ultimately get what he wanted.

He didn't know when that changed.

Maybe it was when you coldly brushed him off when he brought up the promise of freedom, planning to rope you as a scapegoat. The way you were all smiling one second and suspicious the next, it left him wondering if you knew his intentions all along.

Maybe it was when you exited a militants room, looking elated, and then startled at the sight of him. He didn't miss the way you adjusted your jacket, and both admired and detested your recklessness.

Maybe it was his surprise at the fierce protectiveness your friends held for you, when Kuina wouldn't let him leave after getting a glimpse of his medical skills, forcing him to treat you. That was the one time she almost crossed the line.

Maybe it was your prowess in games but sheer stupidity at everything else.

He honestly didn't know if he found you annoying or endearing.

You were a hindrance to his plans, but he often debated if his plans mattered more than satisfying his curiosity, after all he didn't care for death. The games left him amused at best, disgusted at worst, but being with you made him feel a variety of emotions he doesn't want to begin to decipher.

Disapproval, annoyance, displeasure, surprise, he felt those in small doses from day to day life, raindrops compared to the flood you brought with you. 

Being with you made him feel less numb to the world.

After this horrifying revelation, he pulled back and started building more walls around himself, because god forbid he actually feel human emotions towards a person.

It was futile.

Looking at you now, still propped up against the wall, shirt stained with dried blood accompanied by the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest, he had to actively fight the warm fuzzy feeling rising in his chest.

He lost. 

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