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Mikoto Suoh was not good at dealing with crying people. He wasn’t a comforting type of person to begin with, and he wasn’t particularly verbose either.
Something about the crying girl hunched over on the pavement made him hesitate. He saw many unusual things on his daily walks, but this was a first. Her dress might have been a shimmering light blue once, but not was covered in dark stains that might be dirt or blood– or both. The fabric was torn in many places, and her shoes were nowhere in sight. Her feet were bloodied and bare, and the shadows of newly formed bruises were beginning to form on her arms.
Mikoto bent down to be level with the crying girl.
“Hey, lady,” She did not lift her head from its place on her knees.
“Why are you crying?” He asked bluntly, for he knew no other way of doing things.
“Everything is ruined!” She sobbed even harder. If she had looked up, he would have been terrified of the red king before her. But she didn’t, so she lamented her story to him.
“My sister has left the country for good, and I just found out my boyfriend’s a drug lord, and that he owns my entire apartment complex so I can’t go back there,” She cried.
“Hm.” Mikoto could only think of one thing he could do for this girl: bring her to HOMRA. Kusanagi would know all the right things to say; plus, it was about to rain.
Mikoto lifted the girl into his arms with ease and set off towards the bar. She tensed, then began to cry even harder.
“Great, and now I’m being kidnapped,” She tried to laugh sarcastically, “the only thing that could make this worse is if it started to–” A raindrop hit her cheek. She laughed again.
“Of course,” She muttered, more to herself than to Mikoto. She rested her head on his shoulder and tried to steady her breathing. She was running out of tears.
It was comforting, being carried like this. No one had carried her in years, it reminded her of her sleepy childhood out in the country. His steps were rhythmic, and her eyelids began to droop.
She fell asleep a block away from the bar.
Kusanagi almost dropped the glass he was drying when Mikoto walked in carrying the sleeping girl.
“King?” He asked tentatively. Mikoto pressed a finger to his lips to quiet him, setting the girl down on the black couch. She stirred, her face tensed even in sleep. Mikoto sat down at his seat at the bar, and promptly joined her in sleep.