windfall | light a cigarette, i'll watch as it burns

light a cigarette, i'll watch as it burns

[ Knocking. The roar of ammunition fire in his ears. Blasts of heat and debris sticking to his face, dust crusting in his eyes. A delirious and delicious taste, sweet red like pomegranate, like Aki's skin scraping open in his mouth.

Denji doesn't talk much about what happened that day.

Not unusual, since he doesn't really talk much about any of what transpired prior to meeting Nayuta, either. Or about how sometimes he can still sense, not even hear, but sense a phone ringing in the distance, its pull like a spiral cord that's gone taut, that's trying to make its way back home and if he follows its trail, he might just find someone familiar on the other end of the receiver.

No, he doesn't tell anyone all that, because, see, the last time he did, Kishibe had just hummed and looked at him, the kind of look Denji would get from adults whenever they caught him picking through the dumpster for his next meal: pitying. Then, he'd shook out a flask from the inside of his coat and said, "Sometimes it's better for the line to go dead, kid."

Weird response, right? It'd made Denji go silent, think a bit. And after a while, he hadn't liked that so much, so he'd changed the subject to something inoffensive, like complaining about how much Nayuta's so much better at arcade games than he is, but Kishibe had cut him short at that point to go take a call.

Naturally, Denji had followed.

It's a little sad that a man in his silver years is the only person he can confide in, but Kishibe's not a bad guy — and that's coming from someone who generally hates men. Then again, the guy doesn't show his gaunt face around these parts unless he absolutely has to, which is probably by his own design, so it helps that he's never around long enough for Denji to get sick of seeing him. Up until that conversation, his absence wouldn't have been something Denji paid notice to. It'd usually take weeks and months and Nayuta asking where the funny, drunk geezer who always sneaks her hard candy is for him to see past the everyday chaos of being Tokyo's friendly neighborhood Chainsaw Man.

But as Denji creeped closer, overhearing some words but not registering most of them, a dangerous curiosity brought him to the edge of his hiding spot. What the hell has this dude been up to?

And then he'd froze.

"So the Gun Devil's position has been compromised. Initiate a tactical retreat."

Afterward, he hadn't done anything for a solid week besides go to school, kick some devil ass and stare vacantly at a pair of eggs frying in the pan for dinner each evening. Predictably, Nayuta had rapidly gotten sick of the menu. So before he could make his eighth pair of fried eggs, she'd scaled up his back and twisted his earlobes until he begged for forgiveness.

"Stuuupid! Dummy! Get a hold of yourself!" Nayuta raged on. "No more acting weird, or else I'm putting doggy kibble in your cereal again!"

She was right. He needed to get a hold of himself. Yeah, he was dumb, but that didn't mean he had eggshells for brains. He could still do stuff in his own way.

In the following weeks, Denji spent his time hounding members of the Devil Hunter Club for all and any relevant knowledge pertaining to devils. From rumors about recent devil sightings, to insights into things like the theoretical mechanics behind how long it took for certain types of devils to die in Hell and be reborn, to mathematical equations projecting the survivability rate of fiends based on the velocity and quantity of violence…

Of course, he only understood about three-percent of anything at any given time, but one detail of interest shared by some gloomy, pig-tailed girl stood out to him. According to her, a mysterious amount of devils had been slain in the Kabukicho district, none of which had been reported by either civilian hunters or Public Safety ones.

Anyone with half their wits would be able to easily determine that this wasn't a reasonable lead, but for Denji? He could feel something trilling out to him. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Aki takes in a breath when Denji tells him to go again, wrapping his fingers around Denji's hand when he grabs hold of him there. He adjusts his knees beside him while sweat drops down his brow and he begins to back up, to resume.]

[And then Denji bites him and Aki almost howls from the mixture of pain, shock, and arousal. His hand snaps up to cling around Denji's mouth, his thumb and fingers encircling his mouth as if to force that bit of skin into his mouth while he holds him down against the mattress. His hips piston violently as he grunts and pants. His whole body is on fire. He hasn't had sex like this in years. Years, since he's felt the burn of pain in the middle of it. A slap to the face. A bite on the shoulder. A tight pinch to skin, a hand over his mouth, around his neck, warning him to keep it down. But he never could. Aki isn't a noisy person and only raises his voice to prove a point at home. Never in public, never so shamefully to draw attention. But during sex it's different and the sounds he makes are as loud as they are primal. It's like allowing an animal off its leash, letting it run rampant yet contained. Clapping your hands and it comes rushing back, holding its neck out for the clip to attach again. But for those brief moments, he ran so hard he kicked up dirt.]

I'm gonna - Fuck, I'm gonna come in you - Fuck - [He hisses from the pain as he continues pounding into Denji, forcing his hand into his mouth and demanding the pain continue. He knows he's wearing a condom but it doesn't matter with what he says because mentally it feels like he's going to fill Denji to the brim anyway. He jerks his hips until suddenly they stutter and flinch and he drops his head to groan into Denji's throat, his lower teeth dragging over his skin as he fills the condom and moans against the heat of his neck. He moans his name, more curses, his hips still moving, trying to edge out that last little bit of pleasure he can hunt down. He wonders why it's so hard to see straight before realizing his eyes have rolled back. His lower back is killing him. It feels like nirvana. He never wants to pull out of him.]

[And for a moment he just lays there, only croaking out a single, groan of a word into the bottom of his jaw: ] Denji...

[ It’s like a domino effect: Aki’s hand pushes into his mouth, a shove so sudden and hard it nearly has him gagging on his tongue, and though Denji’s eyes go wide, red-rimmed and watery again, he acquiesces to the force. He knows what Aki wants, Aki knows what he wants — and this is the culmination of that. His fangs pierce heavier into the skin, sinking until a decadent red guzzles out from the open wound, seeping into his taste buds and down his chin. Cloying, metallic, warm — Aki’s blood tastes the way anyone would expect it to, and yet it's sweeter, richer, than anything he's ever had before. He's never had wine before but he thinks that this is what it'd feel if he took a swig, felt the burn of it sliding all the way into his belly.

Between that and the brutality of Aki's thrusts, matchless in his desperation to feel something, feel at home somewhere, even if it's just inside a boy who smells like wet dog, Denji doesn't stand a chance.

Aki's hips are still ricocheting toward his own release, when his cock grates up against his walls with a singular twist that has Denji's spine leaping fully off the ground in a mix of agony and bliss. Exquisitely throttled and blinded by white hot sparks flying in his eyes, he wants to moan, gasp, screech Aki's name to the point of wretching, but with his palm still partway inside his mouth, he can only cry and snivel into the bloodied obstruction as pale streaks batter his abdomen in short, stunted bursts. He doesn't feel like a person or a devil or a hybrid of either as he shudders, no rhythm to his movements as Denji's ass meets his thrusts, awkwardly, like he hasn't quite committed to whether he's going to thrust into the open air or grind down into him. He just feels like an open nerve succumbing to the peak of his pain and pleasure.

But it seems that it doesn't matter what he does, or what he is or isn't, because Aki's shaking against him all the same. His moans, not unlike the sound of graves and bones and earth shifting below ground, the roar of cartridge after cartridge emptying — but Denji doesn't look away or shut his eyes, just tries to find the music in it, sighing through his nostrils and using his remaining energy to suction his muscles around his softening cock. The last of his thrusts, the growl of his name, tremoring out inside him, sweetening Denji's own aftershocks.

It's quiet after that, save for their messy breaths. He lies there, chest rising and falling, as Aki does the same. The both of them like two puppies exhausted from roughhousing too hard, but that's just what happens when you let dogs run free into the wilderness without supervision.

Mouth opening to remove the sharp edges of his teeth from his hand, now colored in drool and blood, Denji gives the indentations he'd left a conciliatory lick, trying to cool the swollen skin. And because he always has to ruin a nice moment, he rasps out, voice grainy: ] …We should do that again.

[Aki breathes hard, feeling drool and blood coating his hand. He lets it fall from Denji's lips and cross over his body as he lays down nearly on top of him, letting his legs drop down and settling partially on the futon, partially on Denji, himself. His body feels like it's buzzing, like he just electrocuted himself. It feels incredible. It feels like he's in heaven. It feels - ]

[Denji speaks up and he blinks, coming down slowly. He's still pressed inside of him, like he's holding his release in despite the condom. Carefully, Aki presses himself up with his non-bloodied hand and manages to shift his hips and slide free, immediately laying back down as he tugs Denji against himself. His heart is racing like he just sprinted a mile. He can't catch his breath. Is this how it always felt...?]

[Maybe once or twice. Maybe, in the way that you find a new restaurant and realize you need to become a regular here. Maybe, in the way you look at the menu and feel excited to try every dish.]

Shit.

[A muttered, breathy swear. His body feels sticky with sweat. His hand hurts like hell. He can feel the webbing between his thumb and index finger aching like it was split in half, blood rolling down his palm. He snaps to a realization, raising it up and setting it on Denji's chest with a groan, right near his cord. He doesn't want to bleed on the futon. Never mind whatever mess is between them and falling from their sweaty bodies.]

You're crazy. [If there's heat to it, it's a pleasant warmth. Like a cup of coffee first thing in the morning.]

[ That's not a no, he's about to point out but the relocation of Aki's hand is a timely distraction. His nose wrinkles. He doesn't want to bleed on the futon, but he'll bleed on Denji…? The furrow of his brow, paired with the purse of his lips, verges suspiciously close to a pout.

To his credit, in spite of the face he pulls, Denji doesn't raise much of a fuss besides mumbling something about watching it, the skin around his cord being sensitive. The blood spills out on his chest as it rises again, the movement causing the dark droplets to trail down, joining the rest of the stains filming his stomach. He observes this numbly, the side of his face burrowed into Aki's pectoral. Although that's chiefly thanks to the current state of the interior of his head — everything feels woolly, softened by the dispersal of dopamine. A languid satisfaction, even as his legs droop apart to the ground, a dull ache settling into his body. ]

Man, you're making a mess… [ Well, it's not really Aki's mess so much as it is Denji's. Just about every fluid on him is evidence of his own handiwork, technically. But technicalities don't receive rights at the moment, not while a twinkling mischief alights in his brown gaze. His knee nudges into Aki's leg, playfully. ] Hey, remember what you had me do last night?

[ Aki should know where this is going. ]

[Aki could very well ask whose fault that is. That Denji is the one who bit open his whole hand with his shark teeth. He watches the way the blood drools down his palm and onto his chest, trailing his eyes down to the ropes of semen on his stomach, the way his cock rests languidly against his thigh. He needs to get the condom off, he thinks. And...]

What? [He mutters it, as if he forgot. He didn't, of course. He thought about the feeling of Denji's tongue stroking over his fingers multiple times in the 24 hours since. Aki doesn't move for a moment, simply laying beside him and breathing gradually slowing to something more manageable. He thinks he could ignore him and Denji would give up. He's not really the sort to push on that kind of thing. But...]

[He pushes himself up with his clean hand. Staring down at Denji for a moment, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, he finally leans down to start at his chest, right beside his nipple where his blood has rolled down along his skin. Aki begins with a kiss that turns into a longer lick as he follows the vauge trail down to where he came on himself, cleaning it all up without complaint or much reaction, his eyes focused on the path as he folds his hand in on itself, fingers clutched tight to hold the open bit of skin. When he reaches his cock, Aki runs his lips down it gently, as much kissing as it is licking, trying to get him fully cleaned before he pushes himself to sit up and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. He can taste his own blood on the bottom of his tongue.]

Go get your bandages. [He really needs to wrap this thing.]

[ Elbows acting as a counterweight, Denji braces himself half-up — a harder feat to achieve when it feels like every ligament keeping his skeleton bound together, particularly his legs and back, is rioting the effort. But watching the glide of Aki's lips coast past the valleys of his stomach, wiping up all the tacky come and drips of red, as a trail of spittle lingers behind in its wake… That's a special kind of salve. A ticklish kind. Softly inhaling, his teeth wedge into his bottom lip when he feels him on his cock. The sensation is light, gracious in a way, but this soon after orgasming, Denji winces from the sensitivity of his head, his shaft. It's enough to kick start an incessant percussion of his heart again, make him want to tilt his hips until its hits the roof of Aki's mouth. For sure, he would get mad at him, but maybe… ]

H-Huh? Oh. [ Denji blinks rapidly, dumbfounded. His cheeks, already tinted pink from the contact, grow ever more darker. Like he was caught grabbing a fistful cookies and chip bags, enjoying himself too much. All while blood wells up from Aki's injury.

…Still, he doesn't have to be so casual about it. So different, reined in, compared to the way he was fucking him senseless minutes ago. ]

…Yes, sir.

[ He rubs at the back of his neck, slowly fumbling off the futon and sliding out the door fully naked, his ass cheeks still carrying the somewhat faded imprint of where Aki latched his hands earlier. The medical kit is tucked away under the bathroom sink, but he ransacks the kitchen first for something to snack on. Because, of course.

It's tempting to stop to inspect himself in the mirror when he reaches the bathroom, see if he looks any different or altered after losing his virginity to another guy, but Denji manages to return in a reasonable span of a couple minutes. Kicking the door back shut, he pours the contents in his arms — medkit, pudding, juice cartons, ice packs — off to the side of the comforter. He unclasps the box, revealing that some of the materials inside are gently used but there should be enough gauze to staunch the bleeding at least. ]

Um, I can do it. If you want?

[ Leaving bandage wrapping to Denji… ]

[Aki presses at the wound as Denji leaves the room, trying not to feel any reaction to what he said. Because that's silly. Denji speaking properly, politely, isn't something to get worked up over.]

[But, god, he could go again. Grab him when he comes in and pin him to the wall, fuck him against the door. No condom this time. Coming in his ass and leaving him to drop down on his knees as he paints the wall in his release. Then pushing his face into it and making him lick it clean. You always make such a damn mess.]

[He blinks out of his reverie when he returns, dumping medical supplies and food on the floor like they're about to have a sleepover. Aki takes the med kit and opens it up with his non-damaged hand and searches for the alcohol first.]

It's fine. [He bit his left hand, so his dominant one is still plenty usable. He's also probably done this a lot more often than Denji has. Pulling his legs up, he crosses them as he begins to dab at the cut with alcohol before pressing the gauze into the wound - he can see the imprint of his teeth better now that the blood and skin is cleaned away, the obvious spots where they broke through and made fissures in his hand. He grabs the tape next and begins to wrap it tightly.]

...Are you alright? [Does he have to do, like... aftercare? Is that what the snacks are for? Usually he'd tell him not to eat in his bedroom but right now he doesn't scold him. His eyes trail to the ice packs. A little worried.] Do you feel okay?

[ That's the million yen question. One he should have expected him to ask sooner or later — Aki did tell him that people usually talk after. And Denji did tear up like a baby earlier, so…

Absently, he leans his shoulder into Aki's, missing their proximity from earlier whether he realizes it or not. His gaze lowers to the pudding cup he's peeling back the lid of, a camera shutter-like shift passes over his eyes, like the whir of something calibrating. Emotions averaging out. The part of him that wants to resist his concern warring, just a bit, with the part that secretly craves to be doted on. ]

You don't have to do that — worry about me. You didn't stab me through the guts or anything, so like that's a plus. [ A reassurance, he decides. He'll be a good boy. Honestly, even if Aki had gone that far, Denji has a feeling he probably would have found a reason to like that, too. He pushes the ice packs toward Aki with one hand, bringing the snacks closer to his side with his other. ] It was, uh, fun? Kinda embarrassing… I didn't think butt stuff would actually feel that way. Like one of those whatchamacallits — [ Using the little disposable spoon it'd come with, he swipes a spoonful of pudding into his mouth. Gnaws on the plastic in thought. When the answer finally occurs to him, he unsheathes the spoon from his mouth, stabbing it through the air to point into the distance. ] All-you-can-eat barbeques!

[ Not plain soba, haha. ]

[An all-you-can-eat... Aki snorts. Even smiles a little, if Denji is quick enough to catch it.]

There's a spot inside that feels good. You know - when you hit that one angle. It feels really good. [He grips his hand, squeezing the tape to make sure it holds when he flexes the fingers. It does, so he starts packing it up again. He has no idea if Denji understands the concept of a prostate.] That's why that kind of sex can feel so good, if you know what you're doing.

[He doesn't really need ice, but... when in Rome, he supposes, and reaches out to pick up one of the pudding cups. He hasn't had one of these in years and he peels it open carefully while returning to his previous spot so Denji can still lean on him if he wants.]

Sometimes in the middle of it, you can feel more excited about something than you can actually handle. Like grocery shopping on an empty stomach. [He detached the little spoon, cutting a small scoop into the top of the pudding, the caramel on top sticking to the plastic.] I was worried I pushed you too hard.

[ Glimpsing Aki smile, a funny flutter beats its wings in his stomach for a moment. But he swallows that, and the strange blend of gratification and ruefulness the brief sight stirred in him, down with the next spoonful he brings to his lips. ]

…Nah, you didn't push me too hard.

[ Sure, his legs may feel as sturdy as the custard they're eating and his back has him stiffening with every sudden movement, but maybe that's just part and parcel with having sex. He had a sip of Aki's blood earlier; Denji's confident he'll be fine. To prove a point, that the moment he notices his hand is newly tidied and wrapped up, Denji turns to nuzzles into Aki's shoulder, rubbing his face into him from cheek to cheek, only stopping to press a fresh kiss to his skin. Worm his arms loosely around his waist. He taps his cup, the bottom still covered in pudding, into the side of his hip. ]

So you have a spot like that, too? Where you feel really good inside?

[ He's not trying to incite him. Probably. Okay, maybe a little… ]

[It's strange how touch still feels electric, even after an act like that. Denji rubs against him and wraps his arm around him and looks like he just got a whiff of catnip. Or a bully stick, to be more species-accurate. But Aki doesn't push him off or give him a look for it. If anything, his allowance for him to do this is permission enough to keep going, though he does nearly roll his eyes when Denji asks about his own body.]

Of course I do. It's connected to your dick. [That's what he was told and he has no reason to doubt it.] ...It's not that I don't trust you to do a good job [he kind of doesn't], but if you're new to it, you can have trouble hitting the right spot. So - now you know.

[Though... That kind of gives him the wrong idea. He meant in terms of Denji's future sexual prospects, regardless of gender. So he clears that up quickly:] Not that you're trying on me any time soon.

[ Denji doesn't break off from his ministrations, but he does momentarily falter as confusion surfaces in the form of an particularly jilted: ] What?

[ With a huff, he sets his cup aside to tighten his cling to Aki, embracing him abundantly closer, Denji's still soft cock pressing into his thigh. He knows he hasn't gotten the hang of being close to another person like this before, that he has a lot of ground cover compared to other people and compared to Aki — perhaps that's why the premature rejection drags out his more petulant instincts. ]

How come? Is it 'cause you think my dick isn't big enough for you or something?

[ Impelled by how irritated that thought makes him, Denji rakes his teeth into Aki's shoulder, scissoring the skin between his molars. The place where, moments prior, he was sweetly pecking. ]

C'mon, I'm never gonna learn unless I try.

[Does he think that has anything to do with it...? He saw Aki's dick, he knows there isn't any sort of significant size difference between them. Aki shakes his head, reaching his opposite hand up to push at him when he starts to chew on his shoulder. He's starting to remind him of how Angel would gnaw on things when he was annoyed. Devils.]

It has nothing to do with that.

[He doesn't know how to explain it to someone like Denji. How it's different when you're the one on top. How the mood shifts, the power changes. How he likes things as they are, where he can move Denji around as he pleases and Denji will go limp like a puppy and allow it to happen. He's obedient, in some ways. But when he's not obedient - it's that much harder to predict him. Aki doesn't know how he would react in that situation.]

...I'll think about it, alright? But not tonight. [He runs the hand he pushed him back with through his hair and smooths it back from his face.] You shouldn't push yourself on a school night.

[ Aki offers no explanation. And that's fine. He doesn't need to. ]

Yeah, okay.

[ Without demur, Denji sways slightly backward with the push, light as it was, and ceases his nibbling. He may be rhymeless in what he decides is worth doubling down for, being obstinate about, but who bottoms or whatever isn't one of those things. He reveres the idea of intimacy too much to be all that choosy about how he gets his fill. It's not even that he really cares about putting his dick inside Aki, it's more that… for as long as he's nearby, Denji wants to be close to him in any way he's permitted. ]

But do I really gotta go to class? [ Carefully, he ducks his head under his arm, scooting in until his legs are flopped over Aki's and he's comfortably seated sideways in his lap. Well, comfortably for Denji. ] Can't I just call in sick…? We could watch movies! Or check out discounted coffee makers, or —

[ A meaningful pause. ]

Do other stuff.

[Aki shifts about as Denji crawls all over him and takes a spot in his lap. Really...? Is he trying to get him turned on again? He doesn't know what's up with him. Was he always this touchy? He sets his arm around him, telling himself it's so he doesn't slide off his legs.]

You can't play hooky to go shopping and have sex.

[Really, asking Aki is akin to asking a cop. Of course he's going to say no.]

Besides, you're supposed to find that guy who bought you a cake. And make friends. [He sets his arm a little tighter around him as he lays down flat on the futon. He yawns as his fingers play at the skin on Denji's thigh.] Now that you know what it's like, it doesn't have to be something that holds you back anymore.

I didn't say sex.

[ The response rolls off somewhat sullenly, though he clearly implied it. Meant to imply it. But also he would have been happy going to the aquarium or something, too. With him. If he wanted. Aki telling him no in so many words, returning to topic of all that stuff about school and their deal has Denji's mouth thinning into a set line, expression morphing into one of complication. Even as Aki's touch massages blissfully into his skin. Even as Denji adjusts to slide their hips closer, letting his cock rest side-by-side next to Aki's, almost in a size comparison — they really aren't that different in length or girth — the intrusive thoughts won't dessert him.

Why does Aki always have to bring up that crap…? They just fucked, how is he supposed to go back to normal?

— and then he realizes, with sudden pinpoint accuracy, that's probably part of the point, if not the whole point. What Aki's been trying to tell him all this time. That after having sex, you're supposed to go back to normal. He stills. ]

…Are we friends?

[Aki stares up at the ceiling like Denji just gave him one of those gag candies that taste like piss.]

[Why is he so impossible? Why does he need everything spelled out for him in such exacting words? Why can't he just accept the undefined nature of their relationship?]

[Blurting out that he was Denji's brother to a student was probably because of what he told him about Makima, he realizes belatedly. He still hasn't talked to him much about all of that. Doesn't really know what to say. But in some ways, maybe he did see Denji as his brother. Not as Taiyou - just as a kid brother, annoying and irresponsible and always getting him in trouble, but also funny, goofy, observant. Aki isn't the most personable person and yet Denji still wanted him to stay here. Missed him. And Aki did as well. Does that mean they're friends? Aki doesn't care about those kinds of words. But he's trying to make Denji care about them. That's why the question is so annoying.]

I guess.

[He doesn't sound thrilled about that. Not because it's Denji - more like because it feels like he found a loophole. That now that Aki is defined as his friend he's going to cling to him more. Ignore the outside world more. Go to class for the sake of making money for a devil and not for the sake of bettering his own life.]

[He's so stupid. Aki reaches up and grabs onto his arm, aiming to tug him down over him, near his chest.]

That doesn't mean you're off the hook. [If Denji is going to demand specifics, then Aki will, as well.] Cake guy.

[ Aki guesses they're friends. His stare strains around the edges of his eyes but Denji tries terribly hard to appear unmoved, like the answer simply glances off him. The lack of commitment feels almost disrespectful to him, knowing what they've been through together — in fact, the more he sits there and stews, the more deeply rankled he is by it. He doesn't know why, considering that it sounds like something he himself would say to avoid getting pressured into tripping a mousetrap.

…Well, it's not like he was expecting some grand expression of what they mean to one another from Aki. Just hearing him say family would have been enough for him, maybe. Why couldn't he have just said that?

But Aki doesn't seem to care to give him the time to thoroughly meditate on this, because out of nowhere he's yanking him down to his level. Yelping, he collides chest to chest with him, his cable tail digging into Aki's sternum. As a complaint boils in his throat, he hears Aki retaliate with a question he doesn't expect, and instantly Denji flinches, taken aback. ]

What? [ In an attempt to smooth over his initial discomposure, Denji hastily locks his jaw to affect a sense of aloofness. But he’s not as good at that sort of thing as Aki is. There's a noticeable wrinkle tightening his forehead. His hand lands on the place he's being gripped by him, trying to loosen the hold. ] I told you. The guy wasn't at school today. You want me to track down where he lives like some damn stalker?

[He knows Denji wasn't satisfied with his response, but Aki pushes straight past it, releasing the grip on his arm to instead go back to his head, smoothing his hair about as Denji assures him he isn't a stalker. Well, that's good. He hopes he wouldn't befriend one, either.]

So look again tomorrow. I didn't expect you to make a friend in one day.

[That would be an impressive feat. He's not sure anyone in their right mind would come to like Denji enough for that to happen within the span of a day. Maybe a devil.]

Your only friends can't be a devil you look after and your former senpai.

[There's a good word Aki likes to define the relationship between the two of them. Senior and junior. Supervisor and... employee. Okay, just senior and junior.]

[ He wants to believe that on any other day, he'd swat his fussing hands away and keep some modicum of self-respect.

But this is Denji. Aki could give him a stick of gum or a breath mint right now instead and he'd be just as happy a camper. Which is why, little by little, the brushing soothes the tightness of his expression away until Denji's fully caved to the sensation. His head leans into the airy touch, like some sort of needy pet begging to have his head rubbed. He blinks hard once or twice to keep his eyes from unintentionally drifting shut. ]

Wrong. You weren't my senpai. You were Hayapai. S'not the same.

[ Inexplicably, one of his hands comes up to Aki's ear to play with his piercing, twisting at it. Ugh, that creep has something like this, too… What's with pretty boys and their earrings? Should he get his pierced? ]

You'll really be happy if I make this guy my buddy?

[He could ask Denji to explain the difference but he doesn't actually need him to. But maybe he just wants to hear him try.]

[Aki doesn't push him away, instead rolling onto his side and tugging Denji again to pull him to lay down beside him. How can one kid have this much energy? To still be sitting up after sex like that.] Lay down. [He even moves onto the side he's pinching his ear with so he can keep doing whatever he's doing with it.] I'll just be happy if you're happy, Denji.

[And he thinks making a friend is a good first step.]

[ Laying down is dangerous, especially knowing that they still have to clean up the mess of their activities. But that isn't a concern in Denji's mind right then. He lands shoulder-first into the bedding, flopping a leg over Aki's as he continues rolling his piercing between his fingers.

Rarely the contemplative sort, he looks distant hearing the answer provided to him. It's just that Aki says it so easily. It that makes him want to test and challenge the strength of the claim, the stretch of it. Cruelly, perhaps. Ask him: Would he still be happy if he ate takeout every night? If he started coming home late, not because of devil hunting, but because he was out at karaoke with friends? If he came home looking like a different person, hair dyed and ears pierced?

Or if he told him — ]

What if I'm happy just being like this…?

[What is this? Aki wants to ask. But instead he closes his eyes for a moment, thinking of an answer. It could even look like he's fallen asleep for how long he's quiet with them closed, unmoving and unbothered by Denji's touches. He's debating what to say.]

I think I was at my happiest right after the typhoon devil.

[Power returned home at that time, and they had a couple weeks of calm. Denji was morose for a bit, he remembers. But once that cleared, things were nice for a time. Their home life was okay. He went out to lunch with Angel a lot in that period - their relationship had grown a little more open. Between the typhoon devil and the time Denji was being hunted by assassins, things were alright. Normal.]

[Maybe it was the contrast, between what happened then and what happened next. Everything went downhill after that time period. But for those couple weeks, things were calm.]

But if you asked me at the time... I think I would have said I was miserable.

[He had just lost two months of his life. Two of his friends had died, and he couldn't do a thing about it at the time. He wrecked a company car. Angel told him that strange story about the "vrumm" he remembered hearing in hell. And with Power back home, the terrible twosome had been a pain to deal with all at once.]

I think some of happiness is hindsight. Being able to look back on things... Having moments to reminisce on that make you happy... That sort of thing.

[That big dinner they had right after Samurai Sword. Listening to Denji try and recap all the movies he had seen one day. That welcome party where he got so drunk Power had to carry him home. Trying to teach Meowy how to use a litter box.]

If you say you're happy just as you are, I'll believe you... But your life can always stand to improve. So you have more good things to look back on.

[ Aside from his moving mouth, Aki looks eerily motionless to him, somehow managing to sound older and more far away with each word he speaks, the exact integer of light, sound, and space he’s traveled since they put down Typhoon tallied into his very breath. Denji's fingers have stopped toying with his ear, now resting warm upon his neck, thumbing at his pulse — just another out of many other affectionate gestures he's shared with him tonight, but this one belies the fact that he's needily checking that Aki is still alive, still solid, still there. Not a ghost that'll disappear after saying his piece.

He’s never needed much to get by; he knows how to ration out his happiness and make the inconsequential things, like finding a shiny coin on the street or cracking two yolks out of a single egg, last far past their expiration date. Growing up on the countryside, in lieu of a mother’s presence, calling him back home to a warm dinner, gently chastising him for staying out too late, he could think about how nice it was not to be nagged. How without the assuring weight of his old man’s hand on his head, he could live without those same digits constricting around his windpipe.

But then moving to Tokyo had blown the bad things, the things he'd tried to think of as not so bad, completely out of the water — he'd never been happy like that in his life. Happy enough he could even ignore the misery of others, people like his coworkers who all died after the welcome party, people like Aki who had to keep dragging their feet onward the next day. A happiness so unquestionable, so extreme, everything else could fall by the wayside.

And then he'd lost — no, not lost, it was never his to lose. He'd returned all that. ]

Y'know… [ Denji lowers his hands from him, the downward movement taking his gaze along with it. It's funny, he'd felt pretty content just a moment ago. Now his voice is small. Uncharacteristically, slow and measured. ] You can be weird. And you talk way too much. But you're a pretty good thing, too, Aki. [ He doesn't look up, doesn't want to see Aki watching him tiredly or pinched with something unreadable, or worse, not regarding him at all. ] I don't want you to be something I just look back on someday.

[Aki keeps his stare up on the ceiling as Denji speaks. He surely has some sort of unreadable expression on his face, unhappy and confused yet pleased and understanding. He wonders if, for a time, he was someone Denji looked back on. For Aki, he was. But all he had were what-ifs and woulda-coulda-shoulda. Maybe that's why he feels such pressure to make sure Denji is on the right footing now.]

...I don't want to die with regrets again, either.

[He pushes himself to sit up, Denji's leg splayed over his the main thing holding him down. So he reaches to push it away.]

Come on. We need to wash off. [Their post-coital talking wasn't quite as mellow and pointless as the pillow talk he's used to. He'll let them both shoulder the blame for that even if it's mostly his own fault. Aki tugs at the arm that's over his chest in an attempt to pull Denji upright.]

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