PENANCE IC INBOX

[whichiest]

Hello, this is Belladonna! I'm sorry to have missed you on such a lovely day. Please leave a message, and I'll return your call as soon as I can.

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[mcfuckup]

[Masaomi spends approximately two seconds staring wide-eyed at her as he supports himself against a bookcase. Then he strips. He tears off his hoodie, closes the distance so he can press it against her chest.

There. One problem solved. He's on a roll. Now he just needs to comprehend everything else he's seeing.]

I know. It's gonna be okay. Put this on. [He insists between attempts to catch his breath.] Now... where are you hurt?

[Someone thinks that's Bella's blood all over the place.

Oh dear.]

[whichiest]

[Belladonna takes the sweater as if it's a foreign object before Masaomi tells her to put it on. A flicker of recognition crosses her face, breaking through the panic and horrified mania, before she puts it on, successfully taking care of her indecency issue. Her head swings from side to side, less of a shake and more of a swivel.]

I'm not.

[No gashes, no surface pain.]

I...

[She visualizes the knife swinging down and has to put a hand over her mouth. No, she can't say it, she can't think it, she'll be sick. Looking like she might collapse right on the spot, Belladonna points her free hand behind her, toward the scene of the crime.]

[mcfuckup]

[He reaches out a hand to steady her swaying shoulder. If she's really not hurt, he'd rather she stay that way. But once he's sure she's not going to tip over, he gives her a gentle squeeze and lets go.]

I'll be right back, okay? I'm just gonna look.

[With that promise still fresh on his tongue, Masaomi steps out onto the balcony and immediately recoils. The stench of spilled blood hangs over the corpse like a stifling blanket, it's heavy humidity tainting the cool, outside air. The murder weapon has been cast aside, a glint of metal peeking out from beneath a fresh coat of red. What burns itself into Masaomi's brain, however, is the body itself, the gaping wound, the pool of blood already sticky at its edges.

Izaya Orihara's lifeless eyes are accompanied by his signature grin. Even in death, the bastard is smiling.

Masaomi had never seen a corpse up close like this before he fell into hell. The fact that it has the face of someone he knows leaves his throat dry, his breath ragged. Before he has a chance to truly panic, however, he's reminded of why he's here - how desperately Bella had been sobbing over the phone and how she never could have done such a thing if it weren't for Izaya's manipulation. He can't be sick over this. If he falls apart, then what's left for Bella?

Quietly, with an eye on the balcony door, Masaomi picks up the knife and makes sure to press all ten fingertips onto the weapon's bloody handle.

Just. In. Case.

With a deep breath, he slides back inside, makes sure to position himself so that Bella can't see the balcony until he's shut the door behind him.]

Bella.

[His voice is a no more than a whisper. In his uphill battle to sound calm and not at all unnerved, it's just too strained for any real volume. His narrow eyes, furrowed brows, and tense stance convey the urgency his voice lacks.]

Start running water in the tub. You're going to take a shower.

[whichiest]

[He's only gone for a moment, but it feels like so much longer, and when he returns she's pacing again, looking for the life of her like a lost child in a grocery, on the verge of bursting back into tears any instant. What's he going to think? What's he going to say? Will he look at her with disgust or disappointment or fear?

And shouldn't it be a delight to be looked at that way?

Not when it's a friend, and not when she's already so ashamed of herself.

Despite how quiet he is, she jolts like she's been slapped when he says her name, and anxiety is plain on her face as she forces herself to look at him.]

What?

[His words don't line up in her head like anything that makes sense, not for a few solid seconds. She blinks rapidly, trying to refocus, and stammers.]

Oh. Oh, yes. My goodness, I'm a mess. I'm sorry, I'm such a mess. Aren't I just...

[Not that she makes any movement to go anywhere. Now that she has him here, what happens when she's alone again, with her own self-loathing? The hate that she's always felt for herself is tainted a different color, now, and Belladonna still isn't sure quite how to address it.]

[mcfuckup]

[Masaomi hasn't figured out how to deal with her obvious shock, not yet. She's even more scattered than usual, even more hesitant, even more apologetic. That's to be expected. This kind of trauma is not something he can make go away with a few choice words.

The corpse though? He can get rid of that before she finishes in the shower. That one is an achievable goal, and he has to focus on that if he wants to get through this with his sanity intact.]

Bella? Babe? [He will repeat her name as many times as he has to, anything to keep her grounded and responsive.] You can do it. I know you can. Do you... Do you have any music around here? Would that help?