windfall | what i desire most, what i fear most

[Angel flusters a little at the sudden close contact, in the same way a cat would jump at spotting a cucumber resting where it wasn't before. He looks over his shoulder when Denji finally backs off, hearing the change in his voice and the way he's moved away from that really-good-feeling spot. What the hell? Was it that wrong of him to simply comment that Denji is better at this...?]

You think that kind of thing would make a human cry?

[What, him simply saying Denji did a good job? Angel doubts he hears that kind of thing very often, anyway.]

People are always either too gentle or too rough with me. You did it just right.

[He turns his head around, looking across the living room and into the kitchen where Aki is packing everything away, trying to clear the counter of their haul. Staring at the pan as he tries to figure out what to do with it.]

...That kind of thing shouldn't make anyone cry.

[ …Eyes rolling up at the disappointment on Angel's face, he strokes the brush down the middle of his wing, gradually inching closer to that inner blade of feathers each time he restarts at the top. Applying the same force, he's being careful to just skirt down the edge, hoping to avoid triggering another surprise reaction. ]

Maybe there's some reason why someone would. [ Denji shrugs, wondering to himself what makes something worth crying over. When somebody you know or a pet dies, that makes sense. Plenty of people have a good cry over that. And, uh, sometimes, if you're kid and you scrape your knee from falling, you'll cry. Maybe it's not a good reason to cry, but it's a reason. Aki probably has something like that, yeah?

Anyway, before Angel can get word in, whether he was going to ask him to elaborate or not, he says: ] Don't ask me, I wouldn't know. I never cried over much when I was full human. That guy's different, I guess.

[ He guesses Angel isn't much of a crier himself, which is why he's as perplexed about these things as Denji is. ]

Hey, you ever seen another devil cry?

[He really doesn't get it. There are a lot of things he thinks he understands about Aki Hayakawa that he doesn't think Denji would understand, but it seems like there are just as many things that Denji understands that Angel doesn't. He drops his gaze, no longer staring at Aki.]

In pain, I guess. [But with tears? With actual emotion other than the fear of death, of being destroyed...?] But not like he does.

[Denji saying he didn't cry much when he was fully human... Does that mean he still doesn't now? He tilts his head to the side, hair spilling over his shoulder as he considers that. But not at all trying to shrug him off. He's still doing a good job of it.]

You've never cried since becoming what you are?

[He's thinking about the bomb girl. If he cried when she died or whatever. But maybe he doesn't know? Maybe he doesn't care. She did try to kill him - Maybe it would be normal not to cry over something like that.]

[ Not like Aki…? Figures. The ability to form attachments to something that isn't their own survival and existence should be incongruous with what makes a devil a devil. Should be. He probably wouldn't believe they had the capacity, either, if he hadn't seen it happen for himself in the flesh. ]

Nah… [ Taking a moment to gather the locks of his hair that'd fallen in the way of his brushing, Denji means to just push it back over the other side of his shoulder, but then he sees something that looks like ice cream clumping his ends together, so he rubs and briefly cards his fingers through to untangle it. Maybe he should be taking this brush through Angel's hair instead of his feathers. ] Do you think something's wrong with me?

[ The question isn't inhibited by any measure of tension or tightness, nothing to indicate that it's a real insecurity of his, though it is. But he'd probably accept any answer from him, even if it's a resounding yes. ]

[When his fingers are suddenly in his hair, Angel pulls forward, away from the touch like Denji just burned him or nicked him with a knife. He looks over his shoulder, giving him a slight curl of his lip (about as much of a glare as someone like Angel is capable of giving), but then Denji asks him that and it fades. It sounds like he's telling a joke. But Angel doesn't really respond to jokes as jokes. So if Denji really did intend it as one, he doesn't care.]

Probably.

[No sympathy in that. He reaches to comb his hair back over his shoulders, the matted bits at the end from when they either got bits of rice stuck in them at some point or soup soaking the ends sticking to his neck.]

I've heard that crying does things inside your brain. It releases chemicals, or stops them up. Human brains always have different chemicals going in and out of them. So maybe crying helps with that.

[He has no idea, though. Nor any idea where he heard about that.]

You should try crying about something. Don't you have anything worth being sad over?

[ Aside from the thumb he keeps bent to hold onto the brush, his palms are open and raised when he whips around to stare at him, as if to say he didn't mean any real harm. Even though he's been bad about touching him just a few times, he can still be good. They only lower once it seems Angel's guard has, and then he's back to combing his feathers, more of the softer tufts falling from his back and sticking to Denji's clothes. He blows some air through his nose when one floats up from the drag of the brush, landing on his nose.

Angel's disinterest, and therefore his impartial assessment, is appreciated, to an extent. He isn't trying to pathologize him or play the armchair psychologist; rather, the way he suggests to Denji, to cry, is no different from someone sampling a meal while it's still hot on the stove top and telling you to add more salt. It's nice. Like even though he's confirming Denji's messed up, there really isn't anything wrong with that state of being. ]

Worth… being sad over? [ A flash of the beach, the only real one he's ever been to. Water rising above his shoulders, then the chrome of his plated head, leaving nothing left but the hollow freefall and a girl whose fuse had gone quiet. ] I don't know. Felt pretty crummy a while ago, like it was hard to brush my teeth or hold anything down in my stomach. And all I wanted was someone else to handle all that stuff for me instead.

[ Maybe Angel knows how that feels? He's always walks through life so lethargic. Misanthropic. ]

Didn't cry, though, because after a couple weeks, I got over it. Life's pretty good, so I shouldn't spend it in bed, y'know, that kinda thing. It shouldn't be possible to be sad when I've got three square meals a day, I get to see Miss Makima at least once a week, and…

[ He pauses. ]

I get to touch feathers this fluffy. S'like being at a petting zoo.

[It's a completely opposite way of living life, that Denji has. He references a time that Angel doesn't know in specifics but can take a guess at, or at least extrapolate left an impression on him. References the feelings of his depression, losing hope. But it all coming back because of what he does have. And what is that...? Food, a crush, and soft feathers. Angel stares forward.]

There's so much more, to a life like yours.

[Three square meals a day? Why not make them have 10 courses each? Seeing your crush every day? Why not marrying them, being with them from wake to sleep? And soft feathers, like at a petting zoo? What if you had a coat of them?]

You could be even happier than you are, so happy your current situation seems like sadness. But you're complacent.

[Pot, meet kettle, but he ignores that.]

Maybe that's why you don't cry. Because you don't realize your situation could be better.

[ …A lot of times, certain social cues tend to fall by the wayside of Denji's notice, but Angel has this economy to the way he speaks, this frankness that brooks no room for misunderstandings: critical as they are, these are his genuine, plain fact observations. In the same way he can tell that, Denji can't shake this distinct sense there's much being left unsaid that he probably wouldn't understand, no matter if it were broken down on paper or phonetically sounded out to him.

For example, what Angel means by a life like his. What happiness looks like, if it's not this, if it's not just fool's gold, sadness muted by distance. By a fragrant kitchen, food on the table, people to share it with. Smoke licking up the side of your building, that you can ignore, just because the window is closed.

His brushing doesn't falter as he asks, a little emptily, a little curiously: ] So what's it like, then, to live better? Is it dying? Like you always say you wanna.

[Dying... Does he really think Angel wants to die simply to live a better life? He's such a strange person. Like someone who can't do simple math, who stumbles over two plus two. But maybe he should expect that, based on the decisions he's watched Denji make.]

Humans... really have everything.

[His gaze stays pointed somewhere in the living room, away from where Aki continues cleaning up in the kitchen, the gentle clinking of dishes, the occasional hiss of tap water. The thud of the tap shutting the water off. Drip, drip. Silence.]

You're born, you fall in love, and then you get to die. Yet you don't appreciate those simple things.

[Angel has been pretty specific in referring to Denji as half-human, half-devil, so even he isn't sure if he's talking about Denji, himself, right now. If he's just complaining in general.]

That's why humans should suffer, I think. There should be a punishment for not enjoying that kind of freedom.

[ Huh. Interesting way to put his perspective and all, but Denji finds himself staring hard at the creamy feathers striping down, nonplussed. The brush making a short up-and-down sawing motion in the same spot of his wing, instead of bringing it to the arches as he has been up to now. The main reason: He's thinking. Does Angel really want to die and humans to suffer? Or does he just want the freedom to — to have everything? ]

Okaaay, no offense, but you sound mega jealous.

[ …Jealous or not, maybe Angel should have every right to that emotion. Devils don't experience birth the same way humans do, there's no memory of adolescence, no courting rituals for love. Certainly no one to mourn when they eventually lay dead and ruined from some vicious attack — and it will be vicious. It's not accident or disease that will take a devil, after all. ]

I dunno, me, personally? That just feels kinda backwards. Wouldn't people be able to appreciate those simple things more if there were less suffering?

[ He's technically taking a stance here, but Denji isn't really married to it. Mostly because, if there were less suffering, he would be out of the job, wouldn't he? That'd be a shame. ]

Whose fault is the suffering?

[There's no outward reaction to being called selfish, no huff or glower or flinch of his wings (well, aside from before that when Denji kind of misaligns a few feathers with the sawing motion of the brush). He probably is a version of jealous. But that's mostly due to not having much of a choice in the matter.]

Devils only exist because humans are afraid of things. If there was no fear and humans could only enjoy the lives they have, then none of us would have to exist. Everyone could live in peace.

[On both sides - but that's not going to happen any time soon.]

But humans can't enjoy the peace they could have, hence where things stand. It's like a divine sacrament, to suffer and be afraid.

[...He pauses. Considers who he's talking to.]

Then again, someone as happy-go-lucky as you wouldn't be so happy if you didn't have devils to kill to impress a woman like Makima...

[ Oh, good point. ]

Good point, I'd have to go hunt a polar bear or something to impress Miss Makima. But just last week, I learned from TV they're going extinct! So that'd seriously suck ass.

[ They may be apex predators with the strongest bite strength of all the bears, but he'd still like to pet and climb on the back of one. Instead of that other stuff. ]

And, I guess… if devils weren't around, I wouldn't have come to Tokyo — or binged a bunch of cool movies at the theater. [ He would have lived his life without ever finding the one singular film he'd remember for all eternity — or maybe, in another life, he would have found another film, but it wouldn't have been something he shared with Makima. That made them both cry, their faces animated in the light of the silver screen, colored by the depth of understanding of someone else's suffering, feeling less alone — he blinks, suddenly, like he's been under hypnosis and someone's finally said the right word to wake him up.

That's right, they'd cried back then, didn't they? That was the last time Denji ever cried. ]

…Maybe you're right, maybe human suffering is good! 'cause with human suffering, that way devils — [ Devils, like the one throbbing in his chest. Condensation to the clouds, rain to sea — it always goes back to the unravelable link between humans and devils. ] They can have a turn pickin' a card from the deck and have a chance at happiness, too. It's not all rainbows and butterflies and sunshine, but that's what makes getting a winning hand feel even better…

[ It doesn't occur to Denji, because he was born into this game with a bad hand to begin with (and in his eyes, joining together with one only increased his ability to find some semblance of happiness), that the odds aren't equitably spread among devils. Technically, the same thing can be said of humans, too. ]

Anyway, with all this talk — you believe in nature, then? Not nurture, like Aki?

[ A call-back to his earlier question. ]

[He really is the sort who can find happiness even in the worst situations. It's a little sickening, in a way. But it also explains Makima's dealings with him. A simple guy is easy to order around.]

[Angel pulls his wings in, shrinking them back down to their usual size as the feathers fold in while he stretches his arms up. Nature or nurture, huh. For someone like him, only one answer makes sense.]

Of course it's nature. Because I'm a devil, first and foremost, and an angel second.

[Aki is patting his hands dry on his pants as he heads over, having given them time to hog the front of the doorway while they chatted and brushed like this is some kind of sleepover, but he's getting tired. Angel gets to his feet and stretches his whole body, joints in his back cracking as he does. Aki asks, "Are you two done? It's time to go to bed." And Angel nods. Looks behind himself, down at some of the feathers that dropped onto Denji from before.]

Thanks. [But he's not picking those up, instead walking back into the bedroom to figure out how they're sleeping. Aki tells Denji to go and get his bed, but he doesn't seem as annoyed as he was before with both of them in there. More like he's come to accept it.]

[ The nature of devils, their intrinsic hate for humans that has existed long before wood could take the shape of anything that wasn't a tree, before thought could be inked to parchment — he knows that's what Angel claims to believe in, and he thinks he sorta believes in it, too, like when he'll see a good looking guy and hate him on the spot, that kinda thing. It's just, does nature have to be so singular? ]

Uh, yeah. No prob.

[ Denji's still holding the brush when he looks up to see Aki return and Angel leave behind his molt of feathers, right there at the entryway. He doesn't want to pick these up, either…

But also it seems like Denji doesn't have to, since Aki's kicking him out to drag his futon over to his room. Or at least that's his understanding. He's not just gonna slam the door right behind him once he leaves, right? Eyeing Aki furtively, he slowly inches around the pile, brush dropping on top of it, as if looking out, in case he pulls something fast on him, then rushes over to the next room over. Seconds is all it takes before he's rushing back out again, his stampede raucous as he comes running into Aki's bedroom, the futon picking up lint behind him from the way he's lugging it. ]

— Safe!

[ Denji shouts, sliding back in, like someone making it back to home plate. He drops his mattress down right at the side of Aki's bed, meaning that at any time he gets out of bed in the night to go to the bathroom or get a glass of water, he'll have to walk over him. And Denji will know, like some kind of guard dog intent on tracking their master's movements. ]

[Aki watches Denji slowly scoot around him, unsure what the motion means or what his plan is here, but it seems like neither of them are planning on picking up the feathers and he knows they're going to clog the vacuum. He squats down to begin picking them up, scooping them up in handfuls, but then comes Denji rushing right through the door with his bed and whizzing past him, sending them all up into the air in a flutter. Aki leans back to dodge out of the way, then groans when he looks into the room. Angel is sitting on the end of his bed, staring down at Denji, who has commandeered the most floor space. This room is barely big enough for one person, let alone three.]

The neighbors are seriously going to kill you, one of these days... [The feathers successfully gathered, he tosses them into the bin in the corner of his room, passing Angel a look next. Where, exactly, does he plan to sleep?]

[But Angel seems to understand the question, answering simply, "I'll find a spot. This bed is too soft, anyway." Which... fine, he trusts him to at least not kill him (or himself) in the middle of the night, so Aki passes him and sits by his pillow, carefully stepping over Denji's bed in the process.]

Do you still snore...? [He only heard it once, after they had that huge feast and all slept in the living room. But he was drunk that time and could ignore it. Power was way worse, anyway. It's going to be so annoying if he needs to get up in the middle of the night... At least Angel has a nightlight, which casts a dim glow in the room when he reaches over and shuts out the lamp.] Whatever, just try and keep it down tonight.

Hey, that's def — defimition! [ Defamation. ] I only snore when I've had lots to eat. [ The way that he doesn't consider the sheer amount of sweets and junk food he's packed away in his stomach tonight "lots"… ] If it's so loud, just stuff your ears with cotton!

[ Ignoring all else, Denji begins fluffing up his pillow, his blanket, and the bedding of his futon with the giddy fastidiousness of someone excited to be getting exactly what they want. Which, right now, is —

…Uh, he's not sure. Probably, he's happy to be spending so much time in Aki's room for the first time, but it's been kinda nice to do things with just guys. He shares a room with Power every night, but that's different, that's more like rooming with a sibling that keeps hogging all your stuff and threatening to kill you. Not like a real slumber party.

Anyway, even though he's practically buzzing with energy right now, once his face smacks down against his pillow, he'll probably be out like a light. He is who he is. It's as he's getting comfy under his covers that he pauses. Looks at Angel.

Suddenly: ] Do you wanna sleep with me? [ That sounded weird. Rephrase that. ] Do you wanna sleep on the other end of my bed. [ That didn't even sound like a question, but whatever. ] I might kick you, but there's space, I guess.

[Aki gives Denji an odd look at his suggestion and it only fades a little when he rephrases it. Angel's expression doesn't change as he stares down at him, eyes moving over the base of the futon, like a cat debating getting up.]

I'd be pretty upset if you kicked me. [He might get a groan or something. Wouldn't that he awful? But Angel climbs to the edge of the bed and slides down onto the end of the mattress, brushing his hand over the top of it up test how firm it is. It seems to pass his muster, and Aki tosses a blanket down from the bed to him and he pulls it over himself, his wings stretched out toward Denji in a sort of shield, but it looks more like a pile of pillows than anything.]

[Aki stares down at them both for a moment, a sort of frown on his face, but he doesn't say anything about it. Just lays down on his back with a sigh. Says a single Night and stares up at the ceiling. Sleeping with other people in his room feels so strange.]

[ He peeks his head over the top of the bed frame, curiously watching Aki's form, then moving his attention to the other end of the bed, the imprint of his foot under the blanket nudging up against Angel's wings. Outside the room, he hears the front door open, the chirr of Meowy greeting Power. She'll probably raid the rest of the fridge before claiming the empty bed next door, he thinks, and he listens as exactly that transpires. Once the noise of her fiddling around fades, he drops back.

The first to crawl into bed, but the last to settle in.

He said before that the countryside was quiet, so quiet you could hear the peep of a pest skitter, but it's weird. This apartment feels quieter, even though this is the most people he's seen inside of it.

Denji doesn't kick, but he does snore, roll over, and rearrange himself until his feet are tangled in his pillows, a plumage of feathers tickling the tip of his nose, the hairs of his brows. It's a wonder he hasn't been shoved aside yet. But maybe it's only a matter of time. ]

[It's a quiet night, until Denji starts to snore. Aki sleeps through most of it and he'd probably sleep through all of it if something else didn't wake him up first. He blinks up at the ceiling blearily and doesn't quite know what he's looking at for a moment, if he's still asleep or not. But when he comes to enough to recognize what's happening, Denji lets out a nosehair-curling snore and Aki shifts, leaning over and nudging him. He's hitting his leg, he realizes. He must have rolled and turned a full 180 degrees...]

Denji. [He's whispering, because you're supposed to, and also because his throat feels like cotton. Maybe he did drink too much. Again he shakes his leg from where he leans off the bed.] Denji. Look.

[Because right now, above them, Angel is putting on a light show. Not consciously, judging by how he lays still with his head over his arms, but his halo is glowing and pulsing in a way that reflects off the ceiling in a nearly blue wave. And wave, indeed. The way the light shifts, the ceiling almost looks like the ocean with an island in the center, where the hole of his halo is. The light ebbs and flows against the center and out from the ring, mimicking a constant roll of waves.]

Aah? Whussit?

[ His words formulate in a scratchy sound, like sieving sand through a tray. Same as Aki, there's a strange texture in Denji's mouth as well, but it's more like… fluff? His jaw slides back and forth, rolling the thing up against the roof of his mouth until he's able to pull it out, the brown of his eyes finally bleeding open to squint at it. Feather. Why's the white look a different color, though?

That's when Denji finally notices the spread of light overlaying the entire room, undulating. He arches his neck, staring up. ]

Woah… Reminds me of one of those projector-things from the movies. [ If all they showed were a spectrum of waveforms and patterns. That'd be pretty sick, actually. Denji could be entertained by that stuff for hours. ] You think it's like a mood ring? Or, like, what it looks like inside his head when he's dreaming?

[ Then again, maybe it isn't exclusive to just his dreams, considering what happened earlier. Regardless, he begins crawling closer to the halo. He's not going to touch it, because Aki will likely raise hell about it. If not outright lunge at him, he thinks, wryly. But maybe he can get away with something else — for science!

Leaning his face into the ringlet's glow, he blows a steady fwoo of air at it, then immediately flicks his eyes upward, hoping to see if it'll make the wave ripple. Like a breeze nudging a flame. ]

[Aki disagrees that it's like a mood ring since Angel is pretty clearly conked out, though he sits up slightly as if to confirm he's actually still asleep. It's thanks to that movement that Denji gets away with blowing on him without Aki stopping him, as he's too far away to yank him back and hiss some kind of warning about how Denji needs to stop touching him all willy-nilly - but when he blows against the ring of light Angel lets out a low groan, rolling onto his back with his eyes squinted, the blue glow slowly fading back into its usual neutral color. He blinks his eyes open and stares up at Denji. Tired, exhausted, and hair wild as if he just went through a wind tunnel.]

What're you doing... Did you open a window? [He grabs the edge of the blanket that's gotten tangled in his legs and pulls it over himself, squeezing his eyes shut.] I was dreaming good, you ruined it.

["He blew on you," Aki tells him, though clear from his tone he really didn't expect a blow on the part of his body he's always assumed isn't really... capable of feeling would make him wake up.]

Yeah, I blew on you, [ he echoes Aki, utterly remorseless about waking him. Squatting beside Angel, his face pops upside down, right above him. Bright-eyed with curiosity. Really, how lucky Angel is that Denji doesn't give back into the impulse to send another puff of air at his halo, see if that somehow sends a breeze through his hair or something. ]

What were ya dreamin' about? Your weird hat was short-circuiting. It looked — pretty. Like the sky or really, really clean water. [ The kind that he's only seen in nature programs, some environmentalist going on about how in so many years, this type of view will be all gone. ] Or a disco ball! [ Or a night light. He could go on and on about like items, but probably nothing could possibly be comparable to the shapes they just then. ] It woke us up and everything.

[ Normally losing shut-eye would make him bitchy, but he doesn't appear to mind right now. ]

Can you turn it on again for us? I wanna see it.

[Hat? What hat? Angel stares up at him blearily, the sight of him so close and right over him decidedly unwelcome. He pulls the blanket up further, all the way up to his nose. Like he can hide from his annoyance.]

I can't control it like that. It does what it wants to do. [From where he sits on the bed, Aki's brows knit tight at that. Because what the hell does that mean.] I was having a nice dream. No one was bothering me. It was nice. And then you woke me up.

[He doesn't expand on the idea that he can't control his own halo, so Aki finally speaks up, asking, "What do you mean, you can't control it?" Angel lowers his eyes to look at him, visibly annoyed.]

Can you control when you fart or poop? [He rolls over onto his side, away from them both. No matter which way he turns, though, his halo stays put over top of his head, parallel to the floor.] Don't be silly. I'm not battery-operated... Just think of it like snoring.

[ Angel's annoyance fully soars above his interest and his awareness. Denji is openly preoccupied with eyeing the halo oddly, what with there being no apparent movement as the slenderer devil shifts around. Not that he has any right to be weirded out, being the person he is. ]

Happy snoring?

[ Bit of a rhetorical question. It's only happened twice, but that's the only thing he can think of to be the only common denominating requisite for his halo to illuminate: that Angel be relaxed enough. Maybe it's his form of tail-wagging or belly-flopping. ]

So this thing. [ He keeps changing his position, twisting his neck to peer at the inner lining of the halo, like the difference in angle might explain something. ] It's like made outta your skin? And you can feel stuff happening to it?

[He's still going... He rolled over and made it obvious he planned to go back to sleep and Denji is still going. Angel sighs loudly.]

It's not my skin. And of course I can feel things that happen to it. It's part of me.

[He glances over his shoulder and shoots Aki a look, almost like he's asking for help but it comes off more annoyed that he isn't doing anything about it. For his part, however, Aki seems privately interested in the questions Denji is asking, since they're things he never knew. Or thought about, but still.]

...Can't you feel if something happened to your chainsaws? But they're not made of your skin. It's like that.

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