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

[ With the glee of a puppy wondering at snow for the first time, Denji capers around the room, doing exactly would probably be expected of him: opening and closing drawers, sniffing through the welcome amenities, assessing the yield of the loveseat, exclaiming in awe when he probes around the bathroom and presses a switch that suddenly causes red neon lights to emit from the tub — man! Finally some good tidings. Love hotels really are everything and more than he could ever dream of. If only he knew this place was so close by earlier, they should've gone here to begin with. ]

M'kaaay.

[ His voice answers back, setting down a bar of soap he'd been pressing into his nose, despite "non-scented" being printed on the packaging. Don't mind him. A twist of the spigot, and the bath begins filling with warm, steaming water. He'll get in there after he does a more formal cleaning using the shower head. One by one, his clothes contributes to the growing pile on the towel rack, not even hanging properly, just kinda stuffed between the rails. He's testing the temperature of the water when, suddenly, as if struck by a belated realization, he's clambering to stick his head out of the bathroom. ]

— wait, you're gonna drink now? [ And therefore excuse himself from bathing with Denji. Obviously, he's pouting about it. ] You coulda just gotten something at the bar before…

[ Granted, that would have been stealing. But they were already trespassing, anyway.

He checks over at the bath real quick to make sure it isn't overflowing before allowing himself to dally a little longer at the door frame, the side of his shoulder hitting against it. His arms cross as he blatantly scopes out Aki's state of undress — not really lecherously, as evident by his next few words. ]

…Hey, I didn't notice it back there, but… you healed up pretty quick.

[At the bar...? They broke in and fucked on a wall in there, Aki is definitely not going to extend their criminal proceedings by stealing as well. He pulls out a bottle of water and downs half of it while Denji checks on the tub, then exhales heavily when he lowers it. He can feel rainwater dripping down his chest.]

[When Denji speaks again, he looks up.]

...Yeah. I guess so.

[He still feels unusually wired, like electricity is buzzing through every nerve in his body. Aki crosses the room and tosses the bottle toward Denji for him to drink, as well.]

I'm still not used to this stuff, I guess. [His hand took a full night to heal after Denji chomped it, so he knows it's suspicious that the neck that he tore through should be just as, if not longer. But something tells him not to tell Denji the truth. That he'll fret and worry and be annoying about it. He doesn't want to deal with it. Would rather enjoy the strange heat running through him even as goosebumps sprout on his skin. He passes him into the bathroom, glancing at the tub as it still gradually fills before pointing him to the shower head on the wall.]

Come on. [He pulls off his boxers, tossing them toward the hook on the wall. Maybe some warm water will help.]

[ All Denji does is lazily raise a curled hand, the bottle hitting its mark with no issue as he spins on his heel to follow closely after him, the door shutting behind the two of them. Uncapping the bottle, he takes a quick swig — which, of course, nearly empties the rest of the contents inside. He really doesn't know when to stop. ]

Well…

[ It's not that he doesn't notice a single thing out of the ordinary about Aki. He can tell his current disposition is different from his usual, that he's being somewhat standoffish, but… that probably has to do with that plant devil. What was it again? Something about effects on a human can last for up to six hours after dying? Whatever the case, the bottle gets put aside, as do whatever questions he may have regarding Aki's healing rate. Not counting all the other times these past few days, Aki's told him once tonight already that he's bad at reading the mood. Denji can live without being given crap about it a second time. ]

Alright.

[ Condensation films every surface of the bathroom as they step in, humid air hanging densely inside. Not heading for the shower head immediately, Denji pause by the tub, leaning over the edge to twist the faucet, the rush of water into the tub trickling to a full stop. He fiercely waves a hand over, motioning at Aki to come toward him. ]

Hey, hey, wanna see something? [ Rhetorical question. He taps at the side controls of the tub and boom — mood lighting blooms from the bottom. Ha ha! ] It's red! Cool, right?

[ It really isn't that impressive. But Denji's amused by it. ]

[Aki watches Denji eagerly turn on the mood light for the tub, his eyes briefly widening as he realizes something that's particularly depressing to him in that moment: He doesn't know anyone else who would get that excited over mood lighting.]

[...But that was always Denji's way, wasn't it. Even after everything he went through, he's still excited by something as simple as a red glow in a tub. Aki stares at it for a moment, digesting that thought.]

...Yeah. [He picks up the shower handle and turns on the spray, splashing the water on his hand to check the temperature.] Usually those kinds of things have other colors, you know.

[But he isn't about to try and find the remote to change that. The spray is still chilly but he rinses his head down, letting the crap and grime slide down his back and all the dust descend into a slightly dark river by his feet. His heart is still racing, still excited and over-amped. He wipes a hand over his eyes to shed the water and looks toward Denji again.] Have you ever stayed in a hotel before? Other than the one up north. [He means a western hotel anyway, not a ryokan.]

Oh. [ Suddenly, the lights cycle through pink, blue, green, then back again. He accidentally presses something in the midst his unrestrained tapping that starts the jets in the tub, taking him by surprise, his hand slamming down to turn it off on reflex. …Anyway, once he's finished playing with the controls, he turns a few degrees to watch Aki wash off — and inexplicably, stands, moving to reach past Aki and dispense shampoo into his hands. ] Umm, I stayed in that hotel with you all for that one annoying devil.

[ He slept pretty good back then. Until Kobeni tried to stab his guts and sacrifice him. Oh, and he stayed in a house devil one time with Power, too, but that doesn't count, does it? ]

If I stayed anywhere for a mission, it wasn't really for fun — [ Well, they aren't exactly here for fun right now, either. Semantics. ] I mean, you know how it is. [ He rubs his hands together, ensuring that each palm is uniformly lathered, then raises them both up to Aki's hair. ] Lean down.

[ It makes no difference whether Aki acquiesces to the request or not; Denji's treating his scalp to a massage, like it or not, scrubbing gently at his roots before working the suds partway through his hair. He gives any hardened strands a firm rubdown, shaking the gunk from his fingers to join the swill of dirt and whatever else flushing down.

He pauses, like he's about to say something he might regret and he's giving himself the chance to turn back, but it's too late. He's already all in. ]

…You know, there was this one time I went back up north. Tried taking Nayuta, like, to visit your family grave. [ Should he be admitting this? Probably not, right? Self-consciousness pulses through him, makes the movements of his hands a little awkward and strained. ] It went pretty shitty… The ferry ride made her sick. We lost our luggage. She forced the bus driver to throw up as punishment and called me lame when I told her to stop it — it was funny, though. But we couldn't afford the place we stayed at back with the three of us, so we wound up getting taken in by this old dude. He was weird and his breath stunk like old cig tar, but Nayuta liked him 'cause he reminded her of scarface. [ Kishibe is who he's referring to. ] The whole time I kept thinkin' about how I was botching crap up when I just wanted to introduce her to you. [ … ] Somehow, it was kinda nice, despite everything.

[ The reason his face is burning is because of this stupid steam, he thinks, hands withdrawing from his hair to let Aki rinse himself if he so chooses to. ]

But, uh, yeah. That's it. [ Then, breezily, like he's not asking a confidential question: ] So where did you stay? When you were gone.

Edited (i keep adding things pls 4give me...) 2023-10-10 05:19 (UTC)

[It's good that Denji has decided to wash his hair, because it means Aki doesn't have to look at him as he tells his story. A story that, he realizes, he never wanted to hear. He knows about his own mourning period and how he coped. He never thought about how Denji might have mourned, once he found he was alive. What about the others? he wants to ask. What about Power? Did he lump that in with the grave visit up north? How did he remember where to go? How did the grave look? Did he wipe off the snow and leaves, light some incense, leave some offerings? Did his family know who he was? Did they know what he was doing? ...And what did that devil think, being brought to a cemetery halfway across the country?]

[He blinks out of his minor stupor when Denji asks where he was, over the year. Definitely not visiting cemeteries, that's for sure. He reaches for the shower head to rinse the soap from his hair and avoid speaking for a moment.]

All over the place, I guess.

[He doesn't remember where he stayed some days because he didn't ask many questions. It was obvious when they were in larger cities but any smaller villages blended together. Accents could have helped but he didn't speak to anyone. Aki sets the shower head down and pushes his hair from his eyes, finally raising them to look at Denji head-on.]

You really visited me?

[Even though he wasn't there. Denji was emotional enough about his death that he went to see his spiritual resting place.]

[He lowers his eyes, bringing his hands up to squeeze the water from his hair.]

When I first turned... I felt like I was a child again. Playing in the snow back home. [He could reach out to grab some shampoo and do the same for Denji, clean him off and get him ready to sit in the fancy tub. But the words tumble out of him, like Denji just dislodged a stick that held the weight of the dam, and he stands still while he speaks.] I remember seeing my little brother and wanting to go over there. He was calling for me - But I felt trapped in place.

[He doesn't mention the rest of it. Playing with Denji and Power, the other people he half recognized from passing them on the street. He doesn't mention how Denji cried, pelting him with snowballs as Aki dropped into the snow and gave up for him. Something to get him to quit crying, like he did with Taiyou when he was a sore loser. Dropped the ball and declared himself struck out. He doesn't want to tell Denji about that.]

Maybe that's where I would have gone. Back up north.

[He almost sounds like he wishes it was the case now.]

[ There's more Denji could say, like how he hadn't really gone to pay his tributes or participate in something as hackneyed as tradition…

He'd gone to see him, to find him, that as implausible as it sounds, he'd hoped that standing there as stoic as a statue or a tombstone would be the paper-thin cut-out of his figure. And that as soon as they reunited, they would team up to find a passage to hell and pull Power out from whatever hiding place, whatever trap door she'd concealed herself inside. She was always so good at running away, it makes sense that it'd take the two of them to find her.

So he waited and waited, ignoring Nayuta's inquisitive gaze, and tried to do what he thought Aki would want him to — because wouldn't that be a surprise for him? To walk and see Denji, of all people, cleaning; Denji, setting aside some orange slices and onigiri, as well as the less traditional crab legs they'd stuffed into their pockets from dinner the night prior, and okay, admittedly taking a break to eat some of the offerings; Denji, with his hands clapped together as he prayed, one eye opened to keep a lookout for someone, anyone, to walk out from the fog, touch their hand to the crown of his head, and tell him he did well. He did his best.

What Denji does instead is reach for the conditioner, squeezing the agent, milkier than the last, into his hands. Applies it to the ends of Aki's hair once it's thoroughly wrung dry, running his fingers through, carefully undoing any tangles he manages to feel out, the way he does whenever he helps Nayuta. ]

We should go again. [ Said as if it's only logical that Denji come along with him, as if it's a possibility within the same reach as Aki's hair spilling through his fingers, his angular knuckles brushing his collarbone. As if Aki still isn't trapped in place. ] If he was callin' for you, maybe there's something there waiting.

[Even through this conversation, he can feel his heart pumping hard in his neck, digesting what he fed his body, trying to process it. It doesn't hurt, not like a growth spurt where your legs ache as they grow. It feels like suddenly putting on a shirt that first for the first time. He stands still as Denji rubs conditioner into his hair and wants to ask, When did you learn that? The guy who was so pumped to take a hot bath when he first came to his apartment, now gently massaging shampoo into the strands of his hair.]

[...He shakes his head gently.]

I don't want them to see me like this.

[Housing the very entity that he swore he'd destroy. The very entity that he let destroy them. Aki can't face them while he's still living inside of him.]

[Once the conditioner is rinsed he turns the shower to Denji, washing him down and letting his grime run down the same drain his did. He's not nearly as disgusting, he thinks, but the dust is like a thin film over his entire skin that he has to run his soapy hand along to coax into flowing off with the water. Sweat, dust, grime, blood. It all goes down the drain until he can turn it on his hair, wash that down too. It allows him to think something he never bothered to ask before, though the question always sat in the back of his mind.]

Have you ever visited your family? Wherever they are.

[ Denji peers at Aki through his dripping bangs and muses, privately, that what he sees isn't so bad. Not a treachery nor a reminder but a body the same as his. One that can endure the cut of steel through bone, teeth through flesh, that may pulse unnaturally with the heart of devil — but the shoulder that his forehead rests gingerly upon is alive, the fingertips wearing away at the waxy residue on Denji's skin are warm. He likes what he sees and his family would, too. He's secure in that belief, but, maybe, that's not the point and, maybe, Aki would hate hearing him say as much…

Before he realizes it, his arms have slowly hugged around his waist, tugging him close, his cheek rubbing needily at Aki. Canine logic, like needling him with affection might ease the intangible troubles on his mind. ]

…Not really. Not much to visit, if ya know what I mean. My folks are — well, my old man is just a cross in the ground. [ By himself, no family plot or anything. If Denji ever actually manages to die for good one of these days, that's probably how his will look. ] Never figured out where my mom's grave is.

[ He heard in passing a while back that her name was engraved in a plot reserved for family on her side, that his dad's relationship with his in-laws was tenuous at best and this probably contributed to his alcoholism. If Denji went back and scoured through public records, he could probably find out her maiden name and visit her. But that thought's never entered his mind. ]

[Denji rubs against him and wraps around his waist and now he can probably feel how hard his heart is pumping, like he just downed two cups of coffee. It doesn't erase his thoughts or his general feelings about his current situation, but the longer Denji leans into him as he speaks, the vibration of his voice echoing up his chest as his hands run pointlessly over his back to remove whatever traces of dirt are left, he can at least file them away for the time being. Think about them later.]

[That his family doesn't have an actual grave marker isn't too surprising, given Denji's status when he first met him. Not even educated enough to know what a fiend was. Still, regardless of how early they died in his life, it's disappointing to hear. He's never mentioned anything about going back to visit and he doesn't sound very interested now. Should he have brought it up, back then?]

[He finally pushes him forward so he can dislodge him, motioning him toward the bath. It's actually large enough for the two of them (probably on purpose) but with how high Denji has filled it, he can tell it will overflow when they both get it.]

Go ahead - climb in. [He, himself, is going to down the rest of the water, trying to will his heart to calm down a little. Just feeling his skin against him was enough to make it beat even faster, stupidly. As if he didn't fuck him twice in a row just now. ...Wait a - ] Did you clean out?

[For some reason he just assumes he did, back in the bar. But this is Denji. He probably doesn't know how. He sets the water down and wipes his lips, motioning him over suddenly, nixing his previous order to get in the tub, his movements a little erratic.] Come here. I can help.

[ He doesn't know how, but Denji does get the feeling that there's a strange lucidity to Aki as he's pushed away. A clarity that wasn't there before when they were both sloshing their way through the deepest congestion of the spore's effects — maybe it's because the symptoms are weakening? His own head is lighter, at any rate. Perhaps not all the way cleared of the cynicism that'd drained their senses earlier, but at the very least, when Aki encourages him to step into the tub, Denji doesn't question it, doesn't feel like his touch is being rejected in favor of the absence of it.

Giving his waist a last squeeze, he lets go. As soon as he's reached the tub and started toeing over, though, he's… being called back? ]

Oh, I was just gonna leave it. [ He kinda figured it would come out on its own when he used the bidet, but if there's another way and if Aki's willing to do some tutoring, then say no more. ] But, huh, okay… Teach me what to do. [ Steps taking him back to his side, Denji attaches to him again with a readiness, toothily grinning up at him. ] Senpai.

[ He says it like a joke, as if they both know that the respect associated with the title is moot here. ]

[Why is he a senpai for this. Is he his ass-cleaning senpai?? Post-sex care senpai??? Aki stares at him with a degree of annoyance for the term.]

[Of course he refuses to use the term when it actually matters and only does now when it doesn't... Aki leans down and settles on one knee, one hand going around Denji's waist as the other reaches for some tissues from the sink.]

It's just... sometimes it comes out unexpectedly. I don't want you to do it in the tub. [This is so gross. He's never had to teach someone how to do this. He reaches between his legs and prods gently at his hole before pressing two fingers inside, scraping gently at him.] Just relax. It's easier to do it when you're standing up.

[ As far as Denji's concerned, Aki is his senpai in everything. In this specific context, he's definitely his come maid senpai, though. Or some other silly discipline he would hate to be his senpai in.

But, um, anyway, this position is sure… interesting…

Interesting enough to wrest the playful lilt of senpai from his lips, replacing it with — ]

Aki?!

[ Squeaking, Denji's hips jerk away at that first contact, not expecting Aki to actually be groping inside him for this, no matter how gently. He'd visualized an explanation, maybe even a real-time demonstration involving Aki spreading his own cheeks and showing him the best way to angle his fingers in to mop up the mess. Him doing it for him, and having such an up-close and personal view to boot, is objectively the most embarrassing approach to this, even if it's allegedly the easiest.

With a fwoo of air, Denji tries to loosen his muscles, a hand squeezed at his shoulder to maintain his balance as the first few swipes are drawn away from his hole. The next time he makes eye contact with him, his mouth is sulkily pursed together. ]

Thanks for telling me to relax after you've already stuck your fingers in there…

[...Right, yeah, he should have said something first. Aki glances up at him when he startles and yelps, then... stares for a moment too long as he mutters his complaint at him, lips pulled together tight in a pout like that. He tears them away after a moment and focuses back on the matter at hand.]

Sorry.

[Fuck, he's so cute. Damn it. Aki exhales and warns,] Alright, relax again. [Then breaches the muscles again, feeling around inside of him for all the release he spilled just half an hour before. The sensation of his fingers inside him is oddly addictive, the way he can feel him responding to his touch, even the ways his body moves based on what his hand on his hip feels. He has half a mind to start peppering kisses along his thigh as a pseudo-apology but holds back thanks to the waning effect of that devil. That might be the only reason he doesn't start pressing in more fingers, though.]

[Once he's clean inside and out, Aki stands up and washes his hands at the sink, tossing the tissues away as he tells Denji over his shoulder to go get in the tub. He can tell he's getting half-hard just from that brief moment, an embarrassing realization, so he'll use the short time while he washes his hands to will it away.]

[ His fingers swab inside of him, methodical, intent in the purpose they're serving. Not seeking out a reaction or his pleasure. That's what Denji's sure of, anyway. If their positions were reversed, he's not positive if he'd be able to pull the brakes so easily, assert the same ounce of control. He thinks about the countless times he's stirred one of his digits through a still cooking meal while Aki wasn't looking, popped the taste into his mouth, then curled his fingers back in for another sample. Yeah, he wouldn't be able to — oh.

Denji twitches, lets out a single dry breath when he feels him stroke right past the bump of his prostrate. Shit, it feels like his fingers have a direct string of contact to his spinal nerves from the way one touch is all he needs to spike a shiver through him, multisensational somehow, like it's something he can actually hear echoing in his ears, cutting up roof of his mouth. Is he doing this on purpose, flows to the edge of his mental shoreline for a wishful moment, because if Aki's not toying with him, he really wishes he would. Then, with his hand releasing from him, the thought regretfully ebbs away completely. ]

…Thanks.

[ If he sounds a little breathless, that's definitely Aki's imagination.

Even after Aki tells Denji to enter the tub without him, he stays standing there for a few seconds, blinking and briefly dazed by the vacancy between his legs before he somehow carries himself over to the bath. It's not as hot as it was earlier, which means the temperature is perfect as he submerges himself up to his shoulders, the water sloshing over the edge as Aki accurately predicted. He flicks the lights of the tub on, hoping it might obscure how stupidly turned on he is. He doesn't need Aki making fun of him. Stealing a glance at his turned back to check that he's not making his way over yet, Denji ignores his erection to experimentally press a finger to his hole, which opens up to him without any resistance.

It's not really the same, though, and he'll hastily pull out of himself the moment Aki arrives. ]

[Denji gets to poke around for an extra minute or so as Aki cleans off, finally turning around and surrendering to his half-hard state and hoping Denji will just... think it's what he normally looks like or something. He heads over to the tub and maneuvers to climb in, the sink of his body causing more displaced water to spill over the edge.]

[...This temperature is perfect. He sighs in relief, sinking down to his chest and feeling his muscles relax.]

Larger tubs... really are a luxury.

[Just think if Denji wasn't even here. He could stretch all the way out. As it is, his toes and legs are touching his, both knees bent on the opposite side of the tub.]

[ Denji doesn't watch him dip inside, so fortunately for him, he doesn't actually notice the erection he's wearing. He's slumped forward, the ends of his air floating up on the surface of the bath, as he blows bubbles into the water and attempting to appear casual after fingering himself while Aki was away. ]

Ah, yeah… I feel like I could fit all the dogs in here.

[ It's definitely not big enough for that many animals at once. ]

It'd be nice if we had one like this back home. Then we could soak together every time. [ That doesn't sound weird to say. He's pretty sure, anyway. Even before they had sex, their boundaries were hardly existent. So why does he suddenly feel so shy about where they currently stand right now? What's normal to say, what's normal to expect from each other. Denji doesn't have a clue about those things. ] Like, it'd save time, I mean! Instead of taking turns and waiting…

[ The volume of his words trails off. He falls quiet, looking at the border of their toes, Denji's curling in to meet Aki's. Smiling stupidly to himself, thinking about how just that type of contact felt out of reach but a couple of days ago, and now he's here. Normally, he'd keep talking about nothing to fill the space and the silence, but he's kinda made some big leaps into adulthood lately — and as an almost-adult, obviously, he can appreciate serene moments like these, too, without ruining it. He can do that for Aki. He can shut up. That's what he's always telling him to do, so he'll do him a favor just this once. ]

[All the dogs with all their fur and everything else... No way, could they ever all fit in here. And besides...]

You're supposed to wash dogs outside... With a hose, or something.

[He's not sure why he's gone so quiet all of a sudden, but it's always odd when he does, when it's not from him pouting. Fingers slipping below the surface, Aki pretends to scratch at his leg, instead checking on himself. Yeah, he's mostly soft again thanks to the warm water.]

Denji... Come here.

[This is for him, he tells himself. Him bringing up doing this back home, the lie about it saving time... He's not so stupid. He still remembers how he asked if he could sleep beside him just that previous night, how he attached himself to his body and clung to him until he fell asleep. This is the same thing, he tells himself - it's just for Denji, not for himself. He doesn't mind either way. If he does want to lay against him or not. It's not that big of a deal either way. But he spreads his legs apart, giving him the space if he wants it.]

[But only if he wants it.]

[ He figured that, since Aki was behaving differently, he was in one of his moods — brooding, like when he caught him just staring out into the unending flurry of snowflakes during their trip, the view as entrancing as white static playing on a television set. Just like that time, Denji could be quiet when he wanted to be, when Aki needed him to be. But being beckoned over…

His gaze lifts, as if he's surprised to hear him call his name. But he isn't. How can he pretend this isn't something he'd been hoping for? If he were to compare the phrases, "he wants it" and "he wants Aki", he wouldn't be able to find a single difference between the two.

Water splashes as he partially rises from the tub, reorienting himself to easily scoot into the space and rest his back against him. Powy and he used to do this a lot. It wasn't something he would get all weak-kneed over — by then, skinship with her had lost most of its luster. Had become a fact of life, something as habitual as looking both ways before crossing the street or scanning your metro pass at the turnstile.

This, though. The crown of his head nuzzles upward against Aki's jaw. He likes this. ]

…I've been wondering. Do you still feel alone? Even when you're with me?

[He hasn't had a lot of times like this with Denji, where they're this close to one another. Skin to skin. With his heart still pumping hard, the fresh flesh from the meat chunk dissolving into his body, it should be like molten iron hitting a hot stove, steaming yet fluid, he thinks. It should feel good. But it's not that it feels good, not exactly. It just feels warm. Even compared to when they slept next to one another, this sensation, of having Denji rub his head against him like a puppy scenting its owner, feels much warmer.]

Alone...?

[In this moment, no, he doesn't really feel alone. In a cosmic sense he still feels lonely, he knows, the sensation that this will eventually end and he'll go back to what he was doing. The lonely feeling of the unknowable future. But alone, right now?]

No.

[He adjusts his arms to settle around his shoulders as he leans back into the slope of the tub. The water still feels pleasantly warm, not burning to the touch.]

I think... That devil before had something to do with the feeling of failure. Or of something not being worth it, like it's futile. That sensation of being between a rock and a hard place, where nothing you do gets you anywhere.

[He never was good at naming devils. He never really had to worry about that sort of thing. Killing them was his job, not understanding them. But look where that got him.]

I think I've always felt that, though, in some ways, deep down. The fear that nothing I do will amount to anything. But - for that brief moment, when all I could think about was that feeling, I think I accepted it a little more than I had before. And instead I just thought about eating char siu together.

[With Denji. That's the difference, he thinks. The nihilism of enjoying the present moment with the people you're with. When he's alone, what is there to enjoy? So no, he thinks - he doesn't feel alone.]

[ Talking this close to his ear, he can actually feel there's no hard edge to Aki's voice, no tension stiffening the lines of his chest against his back as he puts down each word, gravity pulling the breath of every one into Denji's skin. The weight of it. Really, he wouldn't have pushed if he'd just left his answer at a solitary No. But Aki speaks with this awareness of his own feelings and what external influences have on him that Denji himself hasn't yet quite learned, and truthfully, it's nice. Being let in. Like he's peeking his head inside an older sibling's previously locked room and no one's telling him to get out. ]

You accepted it… [ That none of it mattered? The leaving someday, the government secrets, the gun flesh. ] Was that part of what made you change halfway through like that earlier? Acceptance?

[ Fingers draw aimless circles against Aki's inner wrist, the left one, the one he said he still didn't work so well when he asked Denji to tie up his hair. His thumb sliding over each bump of his veins, reminding him of the devil's vulnerable roots hidden beneath a layer cement. He's never heard the word futile before (or detritus, which still sounds a little made up in his head), but from his description, that sounds like a good name for something so annoying. Something so grounded in his everyday struggles.

Because he thinks he felt something like that, too, kinda. Like a — a rat trying to get through a tunnel that keeps getting smaller and smaller. And if he wanted to make it to the end, he'd have to turn into something that could fit. Like, who knows, an ant. But if he did that, then the path ahead would switch up — like, suddenly the floor would be turning to lava. And, in the end, no matter what he did, no matter the parts of himself he had to discard just to make it through, there would always be something about him that would be wrong. Inadequate.

However, if Aki wanted to touch someone like that, someone like him, then… ]

…I'd still get char siu with you after this, y'know. I'd still… [ Run away with you, he nearly says. Doesn't, though. Choosing instead to raise his wrist to his mouth, pressing a kiss near the joint. Lingering there, as if he wants the feeling to wear down into Aki's bones — then making a soft sound against his skin, faintly intrigued by the elevated pulse. ]

Are you nervous?

[Was that what made him change...? Probably not. More like his ability to trust Denji in that moment - but he doesn't want to admit that when he's lifting his hand from the water, bringing it to his lips and pressing the artery right against them. It feels overly intimate, like when he kissed the barrel. Something he doesn't think he can get used to. And then Denji hums like that, asks if he's nervous, and he realizes it's still pounding like he ran a marathon and only just stopped. He just can't get him to relax.]

It's... No. I'm not nervous. [He turns his chin to press against the side of his head, casting his glance elsewhere.] I... swallowed it. [Ugh. It feels embarrassing to admit. Like he should be shamed for it.] The chunk. So it's...

[There's a brief pause. He stares hard at the opposite wall, lit up by the color shifting from the water, reflection shifting each time one of them moves a little bit. He's not still hard, is he? Surely that went down enough.]

...We can still get char siu. [Like Denji, he doesn't bring up the idea of running away. Char siu is one thing; running away is a different story.]

[ …So that's how he healed. He chose Gun, after all — even though he gave him what he could, even though he offered more — how could Denji be so stupid? How could Aki? Aki, the guy who is always preaching against thoughtless risk, always playing by someone else's rules — ]

You're being serious.

[ Denji drops his wrist, closing a hand against Aki's thigh, squeezing as if he's trying to smother the instinct to blurt something out of irritation, as he shifts to look at him flat in the eyes. Aki's the lecturer, though, the one who knows every rigid system and procedure in the book by heart, not him. He should know that he's taking a leap here, so Denji won't waste his breath reminding him. ]

Well, how does it feel? [ Brown eyes freeze for a moment as he resettles, flick down, then back up again. God, he wishes they were still talking about char siu. ] Besides, uh, the hard-on.

[...He's really that upset about it, huh. Aki barely moves as Denji throws him that look, the frustrated stare like he just betrayed him. Somehow, it feels like he did.]

I can't explain it - It just... [He trails off when Denji calls him on being half-hard, his eyes darting away with more shame at that than the admission for what he ate.] ...It's blood flow. My heart has been beating harder since I - So, some of it went down there. That's all it is.

[He's telling himself that and mostly believing it. He just came in him twice, for crying out loud. How could his body be ready again already after that?]

I felt like I had to. Like I'd - lose it if I didn't. [Beat.] Lose the chunk, not - not myself. [He shouldn't be this embarrassed with Denji, of all people. He should be able to defend himself. But when is the last time Denji gave him a look like that where Aki actually felt he deserved it? This might be the first and only time.]

[ Physical conflict is where Denji knows himself best. Screaming, burrowing his way through the bellies of devils like a tapeworm, running on their bloody sewage for motor oil — there is where he feels most attuned to his sensations, his feelings, his perceptions of the world. To his judgment. Here, half-turned in Aki's lap, he feels awkward, a freshwater fish swimming in seawater. Wet from head to toe, but he's not sure if it's the sweat or the bath. Angry, but unsure if he's entitled to it. He nearly asks why he didn't just give him the bullet if he was afraid of losing it, but the answer is obvious: he didn't trust him. Which, fine. He knows Aki thinks he's irresponsible. And it isn't as if Aki lied to him…

He was just selfish for once, and Denji's always telling him to do selfish things. So why can't he shake off his disappointment? The effects of that stupid plant should be on its way out, so this rotten, wretched coldness crawling up this back, that's his, that's all Denji. Agitated, he pushes his hair out of his face, the water slicking it back and dripping down the bridge of his nose. ]

Alright. [ And because he has to say it again, almost to psyche himself up: ] Ugh, alright! I kinda wanna punch you.

[ To the point. Just as to the point as the way his fingers suddenly run down Aki's shaft, squeezing around his balls. Petulant. Rolling in his palm like a lucky pair of dice. ]

But I won't. So make it up to me instead.

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lol np!

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