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

[ It's not as if he likes that this keeps happening between them, that every time Aki broaches the idea that none of this will last, not their time together, not the lifestyle that orbits around being Chainsaw Man and taking care of Nayuta, Denji's first reaction is his worst one. It feels like shit, which is the one feeling that he thinks, he's pretty sure, he can confidently assume that he shares with Aki. Feeling like shit, yeah, that's it. That's the only thing they're on the same page about, it seems.

But his, right now, is the kind where all the energy has sapped from his bones, and the only he can do is pluck the receiver from its dock. Hold it to his ear, barely even to the height it needs to be for him to hear the other person on the line clearly. His throat is still stinging, a self-inflicted rawness dogging each swallow, each time he tries to croak out something that isn't a one-syllable grunt. So he doesn't bother greeting this caller, expecting them to cut to the chase on their own accord. If they're anyone who matters, they will.

"Pepperoni or seafood pizza?"

That's weird. Whoever this is, their voice is familiar.

After that point, the exchange goes back-and-forth like the type of snappy dialogue you'd expect from a stage play: Pepperoni, but who's asking. Yoshida, remember? I dunno, doesn't ring a bell. Okay, what about 'Cake Guy,' then? Oh, yeah, what the hell do you want, Cake Guy, and so on, until Denji finally gleans that the reason he's having this conversation at all is because Nayuta can't decide what she wants from the menu. Because Nayuta is apparently dining with his weird classmate who offered to buy her pizza while she was out walking the pups, despite eating something like brunch with them just a little while ago. It was pretty heavy, too, being barbecue and all. ]

Seriously?

[ Incredulity, of course. His fingers pincer around the bulge at his throat, massaging it an effort to relieve the inner strain to his vocal chords.

"I know you're feeling sick, but if you get here in fifteen minutes, there might still be some leftover."

How does he know I'm sick, Denji wonders, spiral phone cord around his wrist restlessly stretching and withdrawing back into its tight curls. He'd started fidgeting with it the second Aki entered the room. What he says, though: ] I changed my mind, I want both pepperoni and seafood pizza.

[ "Seriously?"

The call ends like that with Denji hanging the receiver up, no mention of anything out of the ordinary. The type of conversation you'd expect between two regular high school boys. He steps over Meowy, who'd taken residence up beside his socked feet, to find a mask or something to put on in one of the drawers in the kitchen.

He passes Aki along the way. ]

…I'm gonna head out. To meet, uh, a friend, I guess.

[He only comes in towards the tail end of whatever he's saying on the phone, so all he hears is something about pizza. It sounds like such a normal conversation that Aki doesn't even really think about it for a moment. Kind of like the normal yet unusual conversations he and Power would have on the way back from work. And then he hangs up and says he's leaving and Aki gives him a look, frowning with a pinched brow.]

You can't. [Like he just said he plans to go to Enoshima on a whim. ...And since when does Denji have a friend? Weren't they arguing about that the day before last?] You're sick. You should rest up first - And what friend?

[He kind of sounds like an overprotective father like this but he ignores that. It's not about spreading a cold, it's about healing from it before he passes out in a gutter or something.]

You just ate, anyway. Go lay back down.

[ Denji misses the look Aki gives him, essentially nose-to-nose with the drawer he's digging through with how he's hunched over. He pushes aside a sewing kit and tugs free a dusty, used face mask that's been in there however long. He puts it on.

So maybe his classmate's a nuisance, not a friend. Aki doesn't need to know that. ]

You — [ Denji grinds his teeth down hard enough to make his jaw pop, his response initially something bitten out, teeth crunching through scrap metal. But he coughs in the middle of speaking, crook of his elbow pressed to his covered mouth, and by way of miracle, it lands with a forced smoothness, emergency brakes. As if he means it like an real suggestion. ]

…You go lay down. Haven't you been up on your feet most of the time? Go take a nap while I'm not in your hair. [ He's at the door now, bending over to stretch out the opening of his shoe to slide his foot in, then does the same with the other. ]

The char siu didn't really fill me up, anyway.

[ It did fill him up, actually. He's just looking for an excuse to get out of the apartment. ]

[That mask is probably going to make his cold even worse with the amount of dust on it. His response doesn't really make sense to him and Aki is smart enough to know Denji just wants to get out of here, wants to be out of the apartment and away from Aki for a bit, but...]

You're sick.

[He grabs him by the shoulder, staring at him pointedly. You don't go out to eat pizza when you're sick.]

I'll go and get you something, if you really want. But you should stay here.

[That'll separate them, right? Though given what he just made him eat, he may come back with ginger pizza or something for Denji.]

[ The mask sucks. It's stuffy, unbreathable, and a muzzle would do a better job, but he'd rather walk around with this thing on his face then go back-and-forth like this. Trying to get his point across, missing the mark, seeing Aki wall himself up, refusing to react. It makes him feel sick, in more ways than this one. Mostly of himself.

In reaction to being grabbed, Denji grabs back at Aki, physically shoving his hand off. ]

Stop. Just stop, just — stay here. Nayuta's with the dude out there. She'll help me if anything happens, or she'll make him help me.

[ He's not crazy about Nayuta getting into the habit of indiscriminately using her abilities on folks, it's not a pattern he wants to reinforce in her, but it's the only thing he can think of to, well, get Aki to back off. But also, to reassure him. Like he's trying to find some middle ground, except he's really bad at it. ]

[Make him? Didn't Denji just say this person was supposedly a friend...? He lets go of Denji when he shoves at him and clearly looks frustrated. He's being childish. Doesn't he recognize that?]

I'm just trying to -

[--look out for you.]

[...What good has that done him, up til now?]

...Fine. Whatever. Do what you want, then.

[He's aware he sounds just as childish as Denji, muttering that at him as he turns around and heads to his bag, sits down as he fishes out a fresh shirt. This is so stupid. Whatever. Denji's basically an adult, right? By his age, Aki was living on his own and making his own decisions. Fucking up and finding out. Isn't that the saying? So maybe Denji will recognize what he actually needs when he gets sick after running out to go eat some pizza with some so-called friend and the devil he insists on caring for. See if he cares. Aki won't tell him I told you so but Denji will know he did.]

Just don't come back late.

[Muttered, as he snaps the shirt flat and pulls it on over his head.]

[ Denji doesn't jockey for the last word, doesn't flip around or flip out. He stares down at his shoes, the mixed up contents of his stomach swimming, churning as whip-fast as a washing machine on its highest setting. He doesn’t feel well. He can’t keep a single part of his story straight to save his life. He doesn't want to leave and he doesn't want to stay, yet at the same time, he wants to do both at once. Is it because a part of him is still stuck back there, lost in last night’s gloom? Unable to make out sense from satisfaction…

Without making any promises to when he'll be back, and without looking at Aki, he steps outside. People pass by on his way to the station, sit next to him on the train and hug their bags. They murmur about yesterday's events, Chainsaw Man making his reappearance after a few days of silence, in equal tandem with stock market predictions, the latest album by some hit idol group, whether the Orix Buffaloes will keep up their win streak this baseball season or not. Cloyingly mundane stuff. Forgettable stuff. Is that what Aki’s been trying to tell him, that who he is to these people, that the thoughts they have about him are as insignificant and changeable as the daily weather forecast?

Slumping deep in his seat, as deep as he can get without outright laying down, Denji pulls up the hood of his sweater, tightening the drawstrings so that the opening is puckered around his face. His eyes close.

When they open next, he's missed his stop.

It takes him an extra ten minutes to beat it off the next stop and loop around to get to the fast food place. He stops short of crashing through the doors to pause and pet the heads of the dogs waiting outside, but it's not long enough a break for him to fully clean away the sweat beading down his forehead and adjust his half-off mask. He means to locate Nayuta immediately, but he spends a bit of time rubbernecking at the entrance — it's one of those family entertainment centers with arcade games, play zones, and a creepy-looking animatronic mascot for kids to rally around. He would have liked coming to one of these days with Aki and Power; if he had, he probably would've dashed for the racing simulation games in a heartbeat. But considering the circumstances, he starts to drift toward the dining booths.

It's easy to spot the cake guy — Yoshida — because, peculiarly, he's the only one sitting there down the aisle. He raises a hand at Denji, something he doesn't reciprocate, making it plain that he isn't in the mood for pleasantries by merely crashing into the seat across from him. There are two half-eaten pizzas in front of him, definitely cold, by the looks of it, but that sort of thing doesn't matter to Denji. He stacks a slice of pepperoni on top of the seafood one, then sticks both into his mouth at once. He really isn't even that hungry, but chewing on something always settles his nerves.

They do talk, eventually. Yoshida tries to lead the conversation with his usual agenda ("Nayuta's out in the playhouse, the way a regular human little girl would and should be — why take that away from her?"), but Denji either rebuffs or ignores him at every attempt. He's only here for one reason, even though his enthusiasm for that reason seems to have dulled since their last conversation, when Denji proposed the idea of an exchange.

"Like I said before," Yoshida says, trimming the crust off a pizza slice with a fork and knife. "This is a trade, Denji. What I have for you depends on what you have for me. Understand those terms?"

Yeah, understood. So what does Denji have for him? What can he get away with saying without putting Aki in a difficult position?

Denji tells Yoshida the worst possible thing he could have in the most inexact terms.

"...He ate something weird. And it made him act 'goofy'...?"

Yoshida does pry a few more bites of information out of Denji through plying him with another round of pizza and soda, but it's like pulling teeth. Once it becomes abundantly obvious nothing more useful can be retrieved, he sits back, plastic cutlery set aside and his plate empty, save for a pile of stale crust. The dude appears to be pondering deeply about something, but Denji doesn't have the patience to give him the breathing room. He kicks his seat cushion.

"Ah, right."

What comes out of Yoshida's mouth is a little more high-level than what someone like Denji can process on the fly. But from what he can gather, apparently there's an operation in the works at an unspecified time from now, Scorched Meridian. Could be as soon as two weeks or three months, nothing's set in stone or written in the stars, but it's planned that Aki play a pivotal role in its execution, and that a lot is currently in motion behind the scenes, especially due to other, at this time, unrelated hands in the pot. Whatever that means.

Their discussion is interrupted abruptly by an irritated shout coming from the playhouse. They both turn to see Nayuta riding on the shoulders of another kid, who appears to be standing on the shoulders an entirely different kid, in an effort for her to climb on top of the shoulder of the animatronic bunny at the center of the establishment. Denji starts to get up onto his unsteady feet, because for all the bread and cheese he's had, he doesn't feel all that better. Go figure. Yoshida seizes his wrist, hand clinging tight enough to leave a mark, like the suction of a tentacle, not to help him, but to impart one last warning: "I'm telling you this as a courtesy, and because I doubt you want Nayuta and Hayakawa-senpai to die. Don't get involved, Denji."

He wrenches away from the touch, not fast enough to keep his skin from goosebumping. Barks at him to never to approach Nayuta again, then quickly, he makes his way over to the trio and pantses the kid at the bottom, no problem. He watches him immediately drop the rest of them. Denji catches Nayuta in his arms, blatantly ignoring the second kid as he cries out in pain. Dramatic. It wasn't that high of a drop. They gather the dogs outside and begin heading for home.

…But about five minutes into the walk, he tells Nayuta to wait, so that he can make a call at a payphone. He also asks her if she has any coins he can borrow for it. ]

C'mon… [ He says, when all he gets is the ringback tone. ] Pick up, Aki…

[It takes about twenty minutes for Aki to place why he feels so itchy and antsy in this place. Being alone without a locked door, without a peg holding the chain in the cement - he could just run out of here. He could just leave. He could open the door and be gone. Staring at the black television screen, he keeps thinking about that, how alone he is in here, how no one looks at him twice here. No one gives him a wide berth, no one looks at him like he's a sick animal on the way to get euthanized. No one clicks their tongue when they sit down near him, like his presence is disgusting to them. Like he's a hurdle they haven't figured out the jump for just yet.]

[But there's nowhere to actually go. He'll just end up coming right back to their front door out of shame and guilt. Even if he didn't, they'd find him in no time. They have enough chunks to track him down with no problem - he assumes. Running is as futile as scratching at a brick wall.]

[At least with the devil gone, Gun isn't rolling around in dissatisfaction in his gut, which is nice. By the time the phone rings he's showered off and changed into fresh clothes, finished the laundry. He lets the phone ring the first time, ignoring it out of courtesy, but when it rings again he frowns and looks at it. He really hasn't ever heard it ring, except just earlier, when that guy called for Denji. He'd like to know more about who this person is, sure, but maybe it's someone else, maybe it's the devil, or a teacher, or... Ahh. Crap. Maybe he can take a message?]

[He picks up the phone just before the second call finishes ringing and opens his mouth to answer - "Hayakawa residence" - but, wait. What should he say? What does Denji use for a name, anyway? He sort of gapes his mouth for half a second before haltingly trying a simple and almost confused,] Hello...?

[ His forehead knocks forward against the payphone plating as he finally hears him answer on the other end. Does it make him feel better to hear Aki? Worse? Either way, he doesn't say anything for a bit as he breathes into the receiver, collecting himself like he'd collect cigarettes and people's dropped coins on the side street. Painstakingly careful. That's probably one of the only times he is.

Finally, he says: ] Hey. [ It takes him another moment to remember that he should identify himself. ] It's me.

[ There, that should be good enough. He wipes at his dripping nose, sniffs. Looks over his shoulder to make sure no one's waiting for their turn outside, but no, it's just Nayuta and the dogs. She isn't even pretending to busy herself with something else, her face pressed to the glass, watching him. He spread his hand at her, waving it slightly, signalling that he just wants five minutes. ]

Um, you not busy with anything? S'fine if you are, I'll be home soon, I just…

[ …Ugh, maybe he should have waited to give himself time on the train to think things over instead of running headlong into this conversation without a plan. ]

Dunno. Just wanted to hear your voice, I guess.

[Denji sounds like a mess. He must be calling from a payphone, Aki assumes. It sounds tinny like the crappy speaker quality from one of them, but wasn't he going to a restaurant? Aki frowns at the blank TV screen, at his reflection in it. Why did he let him go? He should have put his foot down. Now he's probably going to pass out in the middle of a street.]

Are you alright? Your voice... [Well.] You sound like shit. You should hurry up and come back here, or you'll only get worse.

[In a way, he's trying to distract himself from that statement, that Denji only called to hear his voice. He's just sick, he tells himself. Probably exhausted himself and is blubbering nonsense. Either that, or he's delerious.]

Can you get back alright? Or do you want me to come and get you? [He says it like he's realizing something - that must be what he meant by whether Aki was busy or not. Maybe he's trying to wheedle him out of buying him a cabride home.]

No, you don't… have to… [ That's not strong enough a stance. Denji makes a second attempt with: ] Listen, don't look for me. I'll be fine.

[ The audio quality really does leave a lot to be desired, like he's trying to talk to Aki through two cups and the vibrations of a string. To be fair, it's hard to hear him on the opposite end, too, his voice faraway, speaking to Denji from the tallest mountain peak or something like that.

But what would the difference be face-to-face? Maybe they'd be communicating on different wavelengths no matter what, for all that. At least this way he doesn't have to look at him directly head on. He breathes in, the sound wet and gummy, like a clogged toilet that needs plunging. ]

…Aki, I keep messin' up. Doing things that make you mad or feel bad.

[ Not listening to him, chasing after the opposite of what Aki wants. Giving away his secrets in exchange for a pittance of information that'll bring Denji closer to him, tethered to him, selfishly. He isn't even trying to save him, not really. ]

But I don't think I can stop doin' that. I think I'm gonna wind up making you mad a lot more times, probably way, way worse than mad, but I — all I wanna do is —

[ Look after you. While you're still here, while you're still you. His rambling wavers, he doesn't know how to say this. The important stuff. ]

So don't hate me. [ He feels like there's something constricting his head, pinching at his eyes, making his voice gritty and hoarse. He's never had a cold this bad before. ] Please don't hate me.

[It's hard to hear him clearly with how he's sort of mumbling, the sound of his sinuses getting in the way of certain syllables. But the overall content of what he's saying - to Aki - isn't that important. It's just that he sounds upset. And he's pretty sure it's his own fault. Reacting as he has, over the entire time they've known each other. Maybe this is how he expects him to be.]

[When he recognizes what Denji is asking, he feels a weight fall deep in his stomach, like a brick of lead. Why now? he wants to ask. Why is he saying this now?]

[Denji probably wanted to say the same thing to him last night. He stares into the dim reflection of the black screen. It's hard to make out anything but the vague shape of himself.]

I don't hate you, Denji.

[At first he didn't care about him at all. A lot of instances in his life have specific moments marking drastic changes - that time he pulled the nail; that time he blocked a knife heading to Denji; that time he grabbed Angel; that time he said yes to her contract. And then the one after that. But somewhere in the middle of everything, he really started to care about him. Slowly, then deeply. What is that old saying about a frog in boiling water?]

You can make me mad. I don't care. [He pauses, feeling the words in his mouth before saying them.] If you're happy at the end of everything, I'll come to understand it somehow.

[ Denji doesn’t realize he’s shaking with laughter until he feels the plastic handset juddering uncontrollably against his ear. He tries to grip his forearm to keep it still, but it just makes him laugh harder. A metallic laugh, like what it sound a beat-up car makes when its engine is on its last legs: exhaust wheezing, the clicking rotation of gears that need to be replaced, rusted rods and cranks that never worked properly to begin with. His shoulder leans hard into the booth wall, but the more he searches for some constancy, something to keep him upright, to hold fast to him, the looser his footing becomes, and eventually, he slides to the ground. It's a slow decent, but it feels like he's crashing, like how fast it takes a body to drop after you blow someone's brains out.

Aki doesn’t know what he’s agreeing to, what he’s promising.

But if you had wanted him to, you would have explained yourself better. Right?

A voice points out to him, the way he imagines a conscience would, gentle and soft and precise. Like a scalpel cutting away a cancerous thought; like Makima, crouched at his side, face tilted in good humor, as she let him in on a secret, an inside joke: "Someone like you has no right to wish for a normal life, do they?" ]

Right… [ His breaths are somehow both squelchy and dry as he laughs. Shallow. He runs his tongue against his lips to wet them, but they're already damp and salty. His face is itchy with something. It's so strange. ] Yeah.

[ His hand passes over his eyes, just short of touching down. A pained breath snicks in his throat. He doesn't want to see the face he's wearing reflected in any of the silvery surfaces in here. ]

At the end of everything… I'll make it up to you, Aki.

[ As long as Aki makes it to the end, would it matter? If he understood? If he was unable to look at him? Is understanding between people necessary? From his answer, it seems like it must be. But how do you make someone understand that you…

The uncertainties matting together like the unwashed coat of some mangy mutt fall aside for a moment, as a rapid pounding rocks the frame of the booth. Denji jerks his chin up and is met with a man, snappily dressed in a suit and his hair styled in a perfect comb over. His foot taps, impatiently. ]

…Fuck, fine. Time's up. Gotta go. [ A lingering reluctance keeps him there for a second longer. ] I'll get myself home. I'll be okay, so… See ya soon.

[ No thanks, no sorry, not even a real goodbye — like that, Denji returns the telephone to its holding place. ]

Edited 2024-01-17 22:11 (UTC)

[The mottled sound of laughter mixed with crying slices at something hard and brittle. Aki holds the phone tight to his ear, not moving, listening to him, like he can hear something in between each shaky breath, sniffle, and shudder. He's missing something. Denji's trying to say something more and he's missing it. And it's all coming out cryptic instead.]

You - ...

[Make it up to him, how? He doesn't want him to do anything like that. Doesn't want him to think he needs to do anything like that. You're just a kid, he would say if he was in front of him, grab him by the shoulders and shake him. You have your whole life ahead of you.]

[That Denji might go that entire life trying to pay him back... It makes him sick. Wasn't he the one who said he hated owing people?]

I'll see you soon.

[He hangs up once he hears the dial tone on the other end, resting the handle in the cradle carefully. They never had conversations like this, and now it's all catching up to them. He can't understand Denji when he's like this. He doesn't know what it is he's trying to tell him, what it seems like he needs to warn him about. But it was something that bothered him enough that he had to leave despite Aki telling him not to, despite being sick, despite everything else that happened last night. Are you mad at me for that? God, now even he's starting to sound like him.]

[He goes outside to wait, leaned over the edge of the balcony and watching the road. There are still puddles of rainwater from the night before reflecting a dreary sky. He'll probably be cold and wet when he finally shows back up, pants grimy and shirt slick with humidity. That's what the towel is for, resting on the table inside.]

[ On the way back, an unnatural quiet hangs over them. It's never like this with he and Nayuta; they chat, they jest, they quote dumb things from shounen anime and play fight, or he holds her hand to help her jump over puddles, or she points at some stray standing far out of the way and tells him that if they take this street again, they should bring food by.

But today, her thoughts are elsewhere. His fault, he can't help but assume with all his absentmindedness and distraction. The move she pulled yesterday isn't something that's quite settled between them, either, but now isn't really the greatest timing to bring that up. She just watched her him giggle and bawl his eyes out in public, then get told off by some stuck-up salaryman for hogging the phone booth. What must she think of him? Hah…

It's only as they're passing by a konbini that, in an active attempt to lighten the mood, he offers to buy her ice cream. At that, she finally gives him a good, long look.

"Stupid. Your nose is runny, your eyes are red, your voice reminds me of nails on a chalkboard." He winces as she ticks off her hand, feeling a stab in his chest with each point. He's lucky that she doesn't just straightforwardly say —

"And your face is really ugly right now." Never mind.

"We're not going anywhere but home. The dogs are tired of being on their leashes, anyway."

Well, that settles that. Denji is about to continue slugging on, but he notices that Nayuta isn't following, so he stops again. Looks back, because he always will, for her.

"Humans act like they're all that with their fancy charts and rulebooks, but you're not like them, Denji," she says, deadly serious. Like she's issuing orders to an armed force under her command, and not merely her silly, pathetic adoptive brother. "Chainsaw Man doesn't stoop to their level. I said so, which means that's basically as good as fact! So remember who you belong to."

The two of them talk about more prosaic things after that, like dinner and needing to do groceries tomorrow, but the whole time, her words are all he can think about as they come up the road. His gaze flickers up for single moment to catch Aki standing up there on the small deck of their apartment — what's he doing? Smoking again? — but they slide back down to focus on Nayuta in the next instant. She deserves his whole attention, and that's what he tries to give her up the stairs, at the door, tossing his muddy shoes aside as he nearly walks past the table — but then, he doubles back to pick up the towel sitting there. Nayuta doesn't notice him forking from her, busy releasing the dogs, and he goes to run the towel under some warm water. Something to pat his face down with, get rid of all the muck that comes with being sick.

He doesn't stick his head out the balcony door until he's made sure Nayuta has a movie to watch. That should keep her preoccupied for a while yet. He saws the towel against the back of his neck, fidgeting. What should he even say? That it looks like it's going to rain again tonight? That he shouldn't stay outside too long? No… He doesn't really have the right to it.

Shutting the sliding door behind him, he takes up residence near Aki. Not too close, not too far. ]

…You lost in the view?

[ He repeated this line once before, ages ago, but if Denji remembers, he doesn't make it obvious. ]

[Of course Aki remembers it. He remembers too many details about that trip because it was so unlike any of the others he'd taken up until that point. The first trip he wasn't consumed with regret, obsessed. He tilts his head to look at Denji, not moving to approach him. Not smoking, though.]

It's a nice neighborhood.

[Last time he'd told Denji to shut up. Gotten annoyed at him, then told him about how that trip had been so different. How his and Power's antics had distracted him from his usual gloomy thoughts. It felt like the first time he hadn't thought about Gun in years.]

[But Denji hadn't understood. And he still doesn't understand. On top of that, now Aki doesn't understand him, either.]

Your voice sounds worse. I'll... [Like the smoke from a cigarette, his words trail off in a steady, slow stream. No, he's not going to talk to him about that again.]

...Was it worth it for you, going out?

[He's not asking judgmentally but his tone is hard to read even to his own ears. He's still annoyed he left, but whatever it was for, hopefully it helped him somehow.]

[ Back then, they hadn't been able to see a single thing out there, the details that make up a life scrubbed from sight, lost behind all that white. A blank canvas, like how the movie screen looks right before something frightful, or dazzling, or mythical takes up the full resolution of what's right in front of you. But in that moment right before the lights dim and the curtains pull back, the beginning is all up to your imagination — yeah, that's how it was.

Back then, sitting across from Aki had reminded him a little of what it felt like sitting next to Makima in the dark and watching her cry. What it felt like to share something with someone. But now…

Denji deflates slightly, thinking it over. Was it worth it to shill out for information that doesn't tell him who in the government Aki reports to, where they're taking him next, where he's been, why. Not even north from south, up from bottom. Essentially, a defunct compass.

Really, thinking about it, how Yoshida smiled all throughout, pretending to be helpful… Ugh! His arms stack on each other atop the rails, a nice cushion for him to press his face into and groan, blocked nasal passages and everything. ]

Who knows…

[ Who knows, but he'll make it worth it. It's why he won't apologize for running out like that. Disobeying him. ]

I guess I'll just find out.

[...That's more ominous than he was expecting. He was just going to see a friend, right? Coupled with the stuff he was saying on the phone, now he's really starting to wonder just who this friend is.]

[Aki stands upright and wraps a hand around Denji's shoulder, tugging him away from the balcony.]

Come on. You sound like you have a plugged nose.

[He pulls at him to come back inside, sliding the door open and making brief, but direct eye contact with the devil. She looks away at the same moment he does, both of them sort of... not quite huffing at each other, but clearly dissatisfied by the other's presence. With a continued tug, he aims to get Denji back to the bedroom and back into bed. He needs to find him actual, decent medicine.]

Denji - You're too young to make any mistakes that matter. [He stands over him, watching him to make sure he doesn't sit up or try and do anything but lay flat in the bed.] You keep saying a bunch of cryptic stuff today. Just focus on getting some rest.

[ Denji's steered back inside and to bed, the silent exchange between Aki and Nayuta occurring without a single ding going off on his radar. He did a lot of thinking on his own today, so this should be okay. Having someone tell him to go to sleep and him being able to agree that, yeah, sleep is exactly how it wants to spend the rest of the night. What'd really be nice, though, is to have a day where nothing happens at all, where he doesn't have to play chicken with Aki and he can commit all his hours to dozing for once. He feels like he had a few days like that before. Except the only reason he was able to do something like that was because Aki was treating him like a kid, wasn't it? Like he is now…

It doesn't sit right with him, but thanks to the cleaning Aki did earlier, the fresh covers are too perfectly warm for him to fight either his own youth or Aki's insistence at the moment. ]

…Yeah, okay.

[ Drowsy, half-lidded eyes follow Aki wherever he flits to when they're inside the bedroom. Sleep may be a skip away, but he can't bring himself to simply fall into it without knowing where Aki will be the whole time. Where he might go. ]

Where are ya sleepin' tonight? Outside?

Outside?

[He repeats it with surprise, almost indignation, but that fades when he watches the way Denji is staring up at him, sleepy and like he's moments away from being taken by it. Going out really was a bad idea. He should have done more to stop him.]

I'll be in the other room. You can wake me up, if you need to.

[Though, until the devil goes to bed, he'll probably spend some time on the balcony. Maybe have a cigarette. Aki squats down and pulls the covers up to his neck him before checking his forehead again with the back of his hand.]

...Just get some sleep. I'll still be here. [Said for both of their benefits.]

[ Despite waffling between wanting to be near him and pushing his presence aside, despite lashing out, doing everything possible that'd make anyone else turn tail, anyone else look back at him and guarantee nothing — Aki says he's still going to be here? With his hand taking his temperature, he must feel the moment Denji's body fully slackens, eyes beating for a moment before sliding shut, like his reassurance brings a relief greater than any kind of over-the-counter drug. And that's how Denji falls asleep: breathing more like the gurgle of a stew reaching boiling point, dull shivers making the covers move every so often, but otherwise, every other part of him at rest.

Aki will still be here. Perhaps not by choice, perhaps because he has nowhere else to go. No one else to go to. But it still makes him feel the slightest bit better, though it doesn't last for long.

Hours of tossing and turning pass, fever-induced inflammation causing his muscles to ache, no amount of repositioning able to quell his unconscious fits. He thinks someone forces him to drink water, or maybe it was more of that ginger drink. At one point, someone moves the towel warming his neck to his forehead, too. Unless, maybe, he did that on his own. He could have. He throws the covers off at another point, then whines when he's submerged in cold until small hands throws the blankets back over his form — that would have been Nayuta for sure. He never notices Aki leave or Nayuta settling in, but they both must have entered and exited the bedroom at different intervals.

It's either late night or early morning, time feeling more like a suggestion than a metric, when his fever finally breaks. Whatever it is, it's dark out and there isn't a single squeak coming from the apartment. He squints through the daze of sleep at the ceiling. The first thing he notices is that no one is next to him; the second thing, there aren't any dogs snuffling near his ear, rearranging themselves in their sleep, or licking his face; the third, he really needs to go piss. He turns his head and sees Nayuta's futon separate from Denji's for once, dogs crowded on her side of the room. That explains it.

Stirring from his spot, Denji blindly shuffles out, makes it to the bathroom without issue. Once he's done, he gives his hands a quick rinse, observing the water build between them, then splashing his face. Face still dripping, he sits some of his weight against the sink, collar stretched down to catch up with a friend he hasn't for a while: Pochita. Voice hushed and solemn, not unlike someone sitting in a confessional booth speaking their worst sins to a priest, he briefly goes through the usual pleasantries, then deviates to things like asking if he's getting closer to being happy, to making anyone else happy — as Chainsaw Man or Denji. And he is, isn't he? He has to be…

He flicks the bathroom light off as he comes out, heading back to the bedroom, but stalls at the minute. Reroutes to where Aki's sleeping — he told him that he could wake him up before, but he doesn't really want or need to. All he wants to do is slip under his covers and stay there until light sheathes into the room, and that's precisely what he does. Because he doesn't want to spread his germs to him, he'll be good and not even try to cling to him; he just settles in next to him, side-to-side. It'll be like Denji isn't even there. ]

["You should stay away from him until he's feeling better," he told the devil for some reason. "I don't know if you can get what he has. Since he's not fully human."]

[In response, the devil scoffs at him, not looking away from the cartoon on the TV. "Only stupid people catch colds. I won't get one."]

[For a moment, he thinks about correcting her. No, he could say, stupid people are immune from colds. But she'll turn it on him. Ask how an idiot like Denji got sick. He's repeating the lessons he learned from Power, he realizes, rolling his eyes as he pulls open the balcony door. Going along with what they say when it doesn't matter. And right now, it really doesn't.]

["Aren't you going to make someting?" she asks when he reaches back to shut the door. Aki pauses, looking at her questioningly. "Later. For dinner."]

[...it really does feel like a repeat of that apartment. He glances down at one of the dogs who is sniffing at the balcony door, shaking its head in the breeze and trying to squeeze past Aki to get outside. Aki pushes the door open to allow it. "I'll make something in a few hours. But keep it down for him." She grins like she just tricked him into something but Aki doesn't question it, leaving the door open. At some point, a few more dogs come out and join, panting in the sun and laying in patches of it. It's not big enough for himself and more than two dogs, but each of them seem to try and puddle up in the nice weather. Better than last night, at least.]

[Before dinner he goes in to check on him, but he seems to be fast asleep still and decides to let him stay that way, replacing the rag with a fresh one to keep his head cool. He feeds the devil and she feeds the dogs and takes them out for an evening tinkle, then scribbles about on some form of homework before vanishing into the bedroom with all the animals. Aki finally changes the TV to the news, realizing again - this is just like back then. Waiting until Power and Denji wandered to bed to finally watch the news. There's barely anything of note. Something about a celebrity cheating scandal. He doesn't even know who these actors are. When he finally lays down to sleep, it takes too long and he's restless.]

[That's probably why he wakes up when he hears mumbling. It's coming from the bathroom, he realizes, blinking blearily in the dark as he listens to Denji's faint voice. What is he doing...? Maybe he's talking to the kid? He thinks to sit up but then the door opens and he settles back, eyes closing. Only one set of footsteps, and they stop. Pause. Turn. Maybe he's hungry, Aki thinks tiredly, and considers opening his eyes to tell him there's a plate for him in the fridge. Ginger-baked chicken. Usually he likes chicken. And it'll help him recover. Then the sheet to his bedding is lifted and Aki's eyes blink open, head turning to look at Denji in sleepy surprise.]

What're you doing...? [He rubs at his face, still bleary-eyed.] You don't feel good? [He reaches out to feel for his forehead, but ends up bonking him in the head due to the misjudged distance.] Sit still. [Like it's his fault.]

[ The thwack makes his nose itch, but that's it. No sneeze, no runny sniff. He doesn't swat back or move out of the way. Doesn't recoil from him at all, his entire lower half already wolfed down by the the sheets and sinking deeper still, blankets drawn up over both their shoulders. Denji turns on his side to face him, a plaintive sag to his expression. Remnants from his crying earlier, yeah, but mostly, he's just tired. If Aki happened to, or hell, if he even purposely wanted to chuck his hand in his face again out of nowhere, harder, meaner, Denji would probably let him. Lucid and clear-eyed, waiting for it to happen — except nothing harder than a gentle pat to his forehead ever lands. He lets that happen, too. ]

Nah, I'm better. [ It's up to Aki whether to take his word for it or not. He's cooler, though, if that means anything, his cheeks no longer saturated by a bothersome flush. The hand he reaches toward Aki's face, a parrot to his gesture from just moments ago, is the same temperature as the room they're in. Rugged fingers touch down against the backs of his eyelids, carefully pushing the sheer skin, trying to make them close. You know, in that way soldiers do to their fallen comrades in war movies. ] Go back to sleep.

[ …He'd be surprised if that manages to work on him, stubborn asshole that he is, and regardless of if it does or not, the contact glides down from Aki's eyes. Begins trailing the slope of his nose, just the barest touch of his nails skimming the dip above his mouth, thumb catching his lower lip. Stalling there, grazing his thumb back and forth, like he's dragging the moment out.

Denji doesn't always speak clearly, and several times in the past, Aki's berated him for it in professional settings. But here, he enunciates every syllable of every word: ] I know you don't need to hear this from me. But I don't hate you, either.

[With his hand over his eyes it's easy for Aki to want to slip back into his fitful sleep. They stay closed even when Denji lowers his hand, curls into him, traces his lip. He's expecting him to say something, can feel the atmosphere of Denji preparing something to say. Thankfully he's still awake when he finally does.]

...I know you don't.

[He opens his eyes to look at him, briefly, then closes them again and lays back. Exhales quietly through his nose.]

You're acting like a dog who just dug up a garden.

[Pacing back and forth, anxious, grinning with stress because he knows whatever he did was bad. Is that why he was laughing on the phone...? Like he does a lot, he draws a conclusion about Denji and it's the wrong one.]

I'm not mad at you about the box. Or going out. Or... whatever. So stop beating yourself up over it.

[ …So no fight, after all. Maybe Aki's really that tired, or maybe Denji's always been just a little off-center about the kind of person he is. It wouldn't be the first time he got the facts wrong. Wanted something to be true that wasn't, because it'd be simpler that way, because if Aki were more stubborn, more of an asshole, like how he's known other men to always be, smiles cut from contempt, an easy to pinpoint hatred in their eyes — then he wouldn't wonder why.

Why isn't he mad? Why doesn't he hate him? If he doesn't hate Denji, does he…

Face half-buried in his shoulder now, his own eyes closed, Denji sets his hand lower. Much lower, palm slowly sweeping up and down his navel. ]

…Yeah. I won't beat myself up over it. I'll just beat you off, instead.

[ He says it like it's the only natural course, like it makes sense to him. And it does, really. The only way the thoughts in his head won't boomerang from corner to corner is if he isn't thinking at all. And the easiest way to not think is to do sex stuff.

Forget that not a few seconds ago, he told him to go back to sleep. Technically, he still can if he wants, and if he starts snoring, Denji won't even get mad at him or anything, either. That'd be kinda dickish, knowing what he knows from today. Knowing what he did. ]

Edited 2024-01-24 00:01 (UTC)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject