He smiles sheepishly up at me, one eye swollen shut. �Hey, Dakumi.�
I stare incredulously, disbelievingly at him, taking a few steps backwards and dropping my fist. �Dells...? But...then you were...� My knees give out beneath me, smacking harshly into the carpet. �Why would you...�
�I�m sorry,� he says, sliding down the wall with a pained look on his face. �It was the only thing I could think of doing to help you.�
�Help me?� I ask, my voice cracking. �How in--the hell--does pretending to be Ishiro help me?�
�By getting you pissed,� he says, wiping a flow of blood away from his open eye. �I couldn�t take away your depression, so I had to do something. I figured you needed to be able to fight back against Ishiro, since you�ve been taking his sick shit for way too long; but in your state, all you were doing was curling in on yourself and letting your fear of Ishiro control you. Getting you angry was the only way to snap you out of it.�
�Dells... You�You�re a fucking idiot.� I press my hands against my face, tugging on the strands of hair caught between my fingers. �I could have--I could have killed you...�
�I know,� he says simply. �But you didn�t, so it�s okay. And even if you had, I wouldn�t have blamed you.�
�Stupid,� I mutter thickly. �Stupid, stupid, stupid...�
�You should be okay for the rest of the night, at least,� he continues. �In the morning I�ll be able to try again.�
�But you�re hurt,� I say, looking at him through my fingers. He smiles and stands shakily, leaning against the wall for support as he pants slightly with the effort.
�Nothing a little Neosporin and Band-Aids can�t fix,� he says light-heartedly, moving stiffly towards the door. �And a few hours of sleep. I might be sore when I wake up, but I�ll be fine.�
�Dells...�
�Hm?� He turns slightly, looking at me curiously.
�Why would you--� I stop as my voice breaks, then take a breath before starting again. �Why would you do something like that, knowing you were going to get your face pounded in?�
He tilts his head slightly and smiles at me, but walks through the door without answering. Eyebrows furrowed, I push myself to my feet and follow after him.
�I want an answer,� I say, crossing my arms as I watch him rummage through his cabinets and pull out a tube of Neosporin and a box of bandages. He shrugs and spins the cold knob on the sink, splashing water over his face to wash away all the blood. He blots himself up with a wad of paper towels, and then unscrews the cap of the Neosporin and begins to apply the gel over the numerous cuts on his face. �Dells--�
�Because,� he says, hissing slightly through his teeth as his fingers brush a particularly nasty bruise. �Help me with this, would you? I can�t tell which throbs come from cuts and which come from bruises.�
He holds out the yellow tube to me and I take it, frowning at him. �That�s not enough of an answer.�
�Bandaging first,� he says. I sigh in annoyance and squeeze a small amount of gel onto my forefinger, dabbing it across the cut over his swollen eye.
Once all the cuts had been lathered with a generous layer of Neosporin, the bandages went on. I swept the trash into my hand before transferring it to the trash can under the sink as Delsus popped a few painkillers into his mouth, swallowing without water.
�There, that should do it,� he says, giving me a hearty grin. �I�ll be good as new before you know it.�
�Now answer me,� I say, stepping towards him with my fists on my hips. �I want to know why you�d do something so stupid.�
�Because,� he says. I open my mouth to tell him I already said that wasn�t a suitable answer, but the words die before even being formed as Delsus leans forward and gently presses his lips to mine.
...Okay.
�I should hit you again,� I murmur, feeling my cheeks burn. Delsus laughs, though it sounds forced.
�You should go back to bed. I�m done impersonating Ishiro for the night,� he says with a taught grin. He brushes past me, but I grab his arm to stop him.
�Are you taking the couch again?�
�Yeah.� I tighten my grip as he moves to pull away, and he looks back at me, eyebrows furrowed. �What?�
�Don�t just--don�t just expect to be able to molest me, kiss me, and walk away like nothing happened,� I say quietly. �You said you were done impersonating Ishiro for the night.�
�And so I am,� he says. He uses the arm I�m holding onto to pull me into a tight embrace, folding his arms protectively around me as he rests his chin on my head. I let my head fall against his shoulder and catch sight of Callie staring at us from the floor, the briefest whisper of a secretive smile on her face before she turns and walks around the corner towards the living room.
�Callie�s taking the couch,� I say, and Delsus looks up to glance over the counter. �She is,� he muses. �I guess we�re stuck with the bed.�
�Guess so.�
