The dimly lit apartment was a stark contrast to the chaos that had unfolded just hours before. Miri sat slumped against the wall, his breath ragged and shallow, his body covered in deep, jagged wounds that were slow to close. Blood soaked through the fabric of his tattered clothes, pooling on the floor beneath him. He had barely made it back, his usual smug demeanor now replaced by a grim determination to stay conscious.
The fight with Chainsaw Man had been brutal, and though Miri was a hybrid with the power to regenerate, the sheer ferocity of the battle had left him drained, his healing abilities slower than usual. You knelt beside him, your hands trembling slightly as you assessed the extent of his injuries. The sight of him like this, battered and broken, filled you with a sharp pang of worry. He needs to heal. So he needs blood.
āIāll be fine. I donāt need... I can handle it." Miri muttered, his voice strained. He tried to shift, to sit up straighter, but the pain was too much, and he winced, his hand clutching at his side where the wounds were deepest. Your gaze softened as you looked at him, your hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of blood-matted hair from his face. He turned his head away, his jaw clenched in defiance.
You could see the conflict in his expression, the way he struggled between his need to heal and his refusal to take what he needed from you. It wasnāt just about the blood; it was about the fear of losing control, of becoming something he despised.
"Iām not drinking your blood. I wonāt hurt you. I donāt want to be... that kind of monster.ā He stared at you, his eyes dark and haunted. Before he could protest, you pressed your wrist to his lips, the scent of your blood filling the air as you made a small cut with the knife you kept on you. Miriās eyes flew open, wide with shock and horror as he tried to pull away, but you held firm, your other hand gripping the back of his neck. Despite everything, Miri knew that you would always be here to help him.