[ Briskly whispered to Angel, as if he's barely containing himself from reaching over to whop his shoulder or something: ] Don't say it that way. You make me sound like I'm gonna piss myself!
[ The driver's still looking at him, his face now distorted in a cringe, like his main concern is no longer that he's commuting a devil to a theater, but that a teenager may wet himself and soil his backseat on the way there. Pulling a nasty face, Denji fishes inside the open pocket of his crossbody bag and thrusts his Public Safety badge forward, nearly punches it into the side of the guy's face. Probably should have done from the very beginning, but he only got the idea after Angel showed off his papers first. ]
See, dude? We're legit. Now stomp on the gas or else I'll do it for ya.
[ Not so much convinced by either their explanations or fancy documents, but threatened into submission, their vehicle finally begins to pull out into the street with a jerk, tires squealing. The driver seems dead set on avoiding eye contact with either of them during the ride, and making this one as quick as possible. In fact, Denji's pretty sure his foot never eases off the gas once since he entered traffic, like he's speeding just to get them out of his cab. ]
Uh, woah there — [ Denji yelps, bouncing back in his seat, scrambling to get his seat belt on. He glances at Angel. ] Hey, you, get your belt on, too! It's the rules!
[Oh, okay. So it really does work best with human ID. The car jerks forward and Angel jostles in his seat. This would definitely be the kind of situation that would make someone pee, so it's safe to say the driver doesn't think that of Denji.]
[The seatbelt digs into his back when they make a harsh turn and he glances at Denji, watches him pull his own on while ordering him to wear his. But he doesn't like to wear them. His wings don't stretch out enough if they're blocked by the seatbelt and the flat of the fabric feels uncomfortable on his feathers. Plus...]
I heard car accidents are a common way of dying.
[So wouldn't that be nice, to die in a car accident right now. Sure, the driver might die, too, but Denji would probably be okay. Again he jostles to the other side and pushes a hand into the cushion between them, trying to stay upright.]
[Maybe this is what it's like an amusement park rides? He's seen those on big posters downtown. People always look so happy riding them.]
Have you ever been on a roller coaster?
[They jerk to a stop at a red light, the driver tapping impatiently on the wheel until it turns green and he can sprint forward again. Because the devil in the back seat started talking about car accidents and roller coasters and that's got to be a bad combo.]
[ Rollercoaster? Where the hell is this guy's head at right now?
Denji's about to ask if a Rollercoaster Devil counts, but his head whips forward at the abrupt stop, the retractor mechanism in his belt triggering and packing him back from banging into the driver's seat in front of him. The band's so tight it feels as if someone had clove hitched him to his seat. Rubbing a hand under the the belt to stretch it out from its chokehold on his windpipe, he seethes out through clenched teeth — ]
Believe me, dude, in a lousy ass ride like this, a seat belt could kill ya just fine. Might even snap your neck, instant! So why dontcha quit mumbling and try your luck —
[ The driver sets off again, making sharp turns that have Denji gagging in pain, when his back crashes into his seat again, then growling, because he even anticipated his assholery and still got got. Damn it, he can't take this anymore.
Without warning, he launches toward Angel's side of the car, one arm trying to brace against his collar so that he can rip the belt strap across his chest and into the buckle. He wouldn't usually be so forceful about something like this. Life and death, whose clock runs out, when — none of that's ever mattered to Denji. But Aki's snobby voice loops in his ears, "Your job is protecting people, not killing devils." And apparently Angel's safety is the public's safety, even if the current public is a raging dick who should get his license revoked!
Besides, if a civilian died because Angel brushed up against him as he volleyed through the windshield, he'd probably get into trouble… ]
There, now just sit back —
[ "We're here," the driver announces at the same time Denji speaks. "Now get you and your devil out." ]
[Since when would a seatbelt snap his neck? It doesn't even go across his neck! Maybe it would split his stomach open? But before he can debate possible ways to be bisected by a seatbelt Denji is leaning over him and shoving his hands all over his personal space to attach the seat belt and Angel very badly wants to shove him away, but instead his body goes tense and still and teeth are grit tight as he tries to turn away from the touch, like Denji is as poisonous to him as he is to Denji.]
You're so...
[And then the car lurches to a stop as Denji finishes buckling him in and before the driver can finish speaking Angel is up and out of the car, faster than Denji has probably ever seen him moving.]
[He has half a mind to just walk home. This is stupid. He couldn't go two seconds without getting that close to him, so what's going to keep him from dropping dead before the day is over? But it's annoying, because Denji's apparent belief that he can't be killed is worming its way into Angel's brain, too. He doesn't know if his touch will kill a half-devil, half-human. Especially not one who bouces back from the goriest of deaths with a rip of that cord. In fact, he touched that cord and nothing happened. Is it just different, like how his wings and halo are safe to touch?]
[Regardless, they're not things he's willing to test. Casting a glare over his shoulder, he waits for Denji to get out before speaking.]
Do you know how mad he'd be if you died today?
[Maybe if he doesn't care about Angel's personal space he'll consider the impact of his death on Aki.]
[ Denji sends a disgruntled look after Angel's back, his form sailing out of the car like a kite catching wind. He'd be chasing hot after him, face nearly in his feathers, if this stupid driver weren't staring very pointedly at him, waiting for his fare. He watches him snatch the crushed up bills from his hand, recounting the total before staring silently ahead without thanks or farewell, clearly expecting him to also make his departure in the same fashion. Squeals out there just barely after Denji's backed away and slammed the door shut, exhaust spewing out from its rear pipe. Good for him, because given a few extra seconds, Denji would have definitely made time to poke a couple extra holes through his wheels. Jackass.
When he finally turns to focus on Angel, it's… Honestly, it's with great reluctance — from one angry person to another, with him today. But this time, it's actually his fault, he knows. He crossed another line with him. Saw it in the way his wings shifted back, his face turned away like Denji has some contagious respiratory disease, or whatever. So yeah, he's expecting a tongue-lashing of some sort. Just not him to bring up Aki. ]
Are you friggin' kidding me?
[ It was Aki who told him to be careful with Angel. Make sure he gets around safe and crap. Ugh. ]
Who cares if he gets mad? [ Denji stomps past him, shoving his wallet back into his bag. Aki gets mad at him for nearly anything he does thoughtlessly. Dying probably being one of them, maybe, but it's not like it'd mean much to him long-term. Not the way something else would. ] Hate me touching you so much? Put on your own damn belt next time. He'd be sad if you died.
[ He only pauses up ahead to glance over his shoulder, make sure Angel's following. ]
Now come on. We still gotta get the good stuff before the movie starts.
[What does that have to do with anything...? Angel watches him storm off, brows knitted in a perturbed and annoyed stare. His whole point is that touching him is dangerous, yet he keeps doing it. Why doesn't he seem to understand that...?]
[But he follows dutifully behind, keeping a few steps back, farther than he would with Aki. The thing is, usually when he's with Aki, Aki is in uniform, not casual clothes like Denji is. It makes it look less like he's part of Public Safety and more like he's just a rogue devil wandering around in a work suit. Barely any different from a salaryman heading home on Halloween. There are a few quiet mutters around, moreso compared to the other night. Maybe because the area is more crowded...? He doesn't know.]
[Usually he can ignore this sort of stuff but with Denji acting like he does, without a visible buffer between him and all these damn people, he can feel his mood crashing. This was such a bad idea. Such a stupid idea. Why would he even want to see a monster movie, anyway? He shoves his hands in his pockets and lets out a long, beleagured sigh.]
...She said to get butter on the popcorn. [Muttered, before he forgets. At least one good thing may as well come from this. Realizing he didn't specify and usually this is when Aki would give him a questioning look, he adds,] Makima.
[ Satisfied to see that he hasn't run off, he turns back around and leads them past the entrance, as well as the lines of people at the kiosk, still trying to get their tickets. But when Angel says that, Denji's steps come to a halt. Back suddenly straight. He doesn't glance at him again, instead looking around, searchingly — and oh, there it is. The concessions. ]
…Hm. Buttered popcorn sounds good right about now!
[ He says it extra loud, acting like the thought just appeared in his head, freezing out the agitation clear in his posture, and wasn't actually a suggestion posed by Makima — or Angel, her mouthpiece in this case. ]
Ah, that line's short. [ The smarter move would be to direct Angel to stand somewhere vacant in the back, waiting for him, but instead Denji begins maneuvering them the way toward a less populated line. One of the best parts about the theater is seeing the candy selection up close, the waft of popcorn spilling out from the overly full cases, the grilling hot dogs. Denji hasn't been the nicest during this excursion so far, but — well, this thing is for Angel. He should be able to look at stuff without being at distance. Life's boring, otherwise. ]
See, they actually have different flavors outside of butter! I'm like thiiis — [ His fingers pinch, like 🤏. ] — positive ya can get half-and-half of the cuh — curu — [ … ] The brown popcorn. Think about what you want, and we'll get it. Aki gave us extra cash, so…
[The concessions smell really good. He knew there would be sweets but he didn't know there would be full-on food. It's good that Denji doesn't ditch him in some corner but also bad - because now he knows what he can ask for, and he's not great at making quick decisions.]
[Especially when told there can be a combo. A combo, really... But what if he just wants one flavor? But something sweet and salty would be nice, too... Would butter really be that good? But Makima is the one who suggested it, and she probably wouldn't tell him a bad flavor. He thinks. But there's hot dogs, too, and those big pretzels, and not to mention the candy boxes. It's a lot to choose from, and Denji picked a short line. They're at the register in no time and Angel is still only staring at the popcorn machine behind the part-time clerk who, while nicer than the taxi driver, seems just as concerned by the presence of an obvious devil. And a delinquent, judging by Denji's look.]
...I want one of everything.
[Aki definitely did not give them enough for "one of everything."]
[ The sweat on the part-timer's face is more than apparent, as is the look they pass over their shoulder, seeking help from someone nearby. Likely their manager. But for all this occurring directly in front of him, it goes unnoticed by Denji. That, or purely disregarded. ]
You heard him. One of everything.
[ Aki may not have given them enough, and he may not have been able to make off with his card this time, but there's at least one saving grace on his side. Da-daaan — he holds up his phone device, smug, as if he were holding an authorization badge. The screen is brightened with what appears to be his account details with the theater's rewards program… and an excessive amount of redeemable points?!
At the hesitation still preventing the clerk from beginning the transaction, Denji pushes his device toward them again, shaking it with extra impatience. ]
What's the big deal? Scan my code and get movin' already! That should discount some of the stuff, right?
[ The points were properly collected immediately after his date with Makima, as part of his bid to watch as many flicks as possible to make conversation with her, maybe be the one to pay instead for their next movie marathon. But nothing's actually come of that, since her schedule's always so packed. Anyway, some manager-type does eventually step in to adjust and readjust his rounded glasses at Denji's phone screen, before beginning to ring up one of each individual item, combination meals excluded. So by the end, they have a little gathering of exactly as Angel request, one of everything. One popcorn tub with a divider in the middle of both buttered and caramel flavors, a hot dog, pretzel, churro, pizza slice, a candy box, a soda, some nachos… The list goes on, and somehow they're walking away with all of it.
[Human IDs really can do anything. That's what he thinks when he watches Denji flash his phone at the part timer.]
[At first, Angel keeps taking stuff off the counter as it's handed over simply because he wants to eat it. Once they're walking away and he realizes he has more than half of everything that was ordered and he's liable to drop it all on the ground and lose it all... He's realizing this may not have been the best idea. But.]
I got it...
[He pulls his wings forward, the feathers intertwining in front of him to create something like a net or a woven fabric. Angel carefully pulls his arms out from his sea of food and the wings manage to hold them in place against him, pushing in flat near his stomach so not even a single piece of popcorn can fall out onto the floor.]
Yeah.
[See? This is just like when they killed that boar devil and Aki wouldn't let him take back as much as he wanted to. He could have carried it. But that day they got to have donburi so he can't be that mad about it.]
[When they finally make it into the theater, their seating choice means they have to walk in front of pretty much everyone just to get to their seat. It's crowded but the room is still lit, thankfully, making it easy to navigate, and Angel follows after Denji without complaint, wings holding everything with no problem. They get some stares, obviously, though whether it's because he's a devil or because they have a buffet of food, he doesn't really know. Either way, once they finally sit and he can begin moving everything around in his wings with his hands, Angel actually looks somewhat content. Like he's in his element. Sitting down with a lot of food. This is perfect.]
[There's some mumbling behind them. A few voices from other moviegoers. Is that a devil? Are those wings real? Wait, is that light gonna be on for the whole movie? But Angel doesn't even turn around, taking a piece of popcorn resting against the edge of his wings and tossing it into his mouth.]
Huh, that's pretty nifty… It's like you have double the hands. Like four of 'em.
[ Yes, two normal-sized hands and two giant-sized feathery ones.
For better or for worse, Denji seems to have lightened up a smidge, watching Angel carry most of their freight in. It's like having one of those collapsible grocery wagons or dollies around he's seen at the department store. He's always wanted one, in particular because it looked fun to ride in and have Power pull him around, but now he can sort of see other uses for them!
Astonishment aside, he does take inventory of the glances falling their way, the whispers. They stop by some of the floor staff on their way in for Denji to once again whip out of his Public Safety identification and insist they're present due to "very important recon purposes" on the premises… And even though the two of them looked at one another, as if to ask how one could possibly do "recon" seated in the audience (and front row at that), they agreed to dismiss any concerned reports from moviegoers about there being a devil.
Seated together, Denji begins to arrange his portion of the food around their armrests, the cup holders, his lap and knees — with all of it splayed out, it does strike him as a bit much, but oh well. If Aki were here, maybe he would have thought of the idea of using certain trays as individual plates to split up some their fare up in a kind of sampler smorgasbord, then place the rest aside at their feet or something…
But since he isn't, Denji's perfectly happy with their current mess of a setup. ]
Hey. You should put the popcorn in the middle. I don't wanna reach over you again.
[He's pretty cozy like this. The theater is a little chilly so with his wings wrapped around him he feels warm. They're pretty close to the screen, but so far they're just showing still images of advertisements so it's not so bad.]
[And for once... When Denji asks him to move the popcorn over, Angel only hesitates for a moment. And it's mostly due to not being sure how to do it. He looks at the little boat of a container holding the hot dog that's balanced precariously between his wing and the popcorn bucket and, deciding not to risk dropping it, instead picks it up and simply shoves the entire thing in his mouth, taking the hot dog down his throat in a single bite.]
[Someone behind them who was probably staring at the scene chokes. But Angel swallows, wiping a crumb off his finger, then manages to adjust the rest of the things to be able to remove the popcorn bucket safely as everything else settles in his lap.]
Here. [And he places it beside him, his wings sliding back to give him room to take it without touching them, either.]
[ Denji makes a lightly indignant noise as he watches their only hot dog disappear inside Angel's gullet. He didn't know his mouth could even open that wide — and, hey, weren't they supposed to share that?! Augh, whatever… Power's worse about hogging crap, so it's not as he isn't used to it… And they technically have more than enough other stuff to go around…
Pouting, he essentially punches his whole fist into the caramel side of the tub, grabbing as much as he can fill inside his cupped hand, a few puffy kernels tumbling down to the floor while he stuffs his mouth. It's so yummy, the scowl on his face suddenly disappears as he grabs some more. ]
Y'see? That's the stuff. I thought it was weird and, like, poopy-lookin' at first, but the hard shell's made out of — [ He pauses, thinking. Another fistful mushes into his mouth, sending more kernels into his lap. ] …Actually, I dunno, I mean — I'm not sure. I think it's basically sugar. Pretty sure that's what Miss Makima said. Anyway, it tastes good, right?
[ …The caramel side is about at halfway empty now, so they'll have to make do with mostly eating from the buttered side throughout the duration of the actual movie. In a fashion, eating a ton of your snacks before the movie's started is also a quintessential moviegoers experience. So, really, he's doing a tremendous job at showing Angel the ropes!
When it comes close to time for the lights to dim, Denji reminds Angel to go to the restroom a few extra times, trying to impress upon him how annoying it is when someone gets up in the middle of the movie. Movie theater etiquette and all that, which is rich coming from him, seeing how each time a new straggler funnels into the theater, a shocked look speeding their way, Denji chooses to ignore it. Like, what can they do at this point? Hang a jacket over Angel's halo? Then that'd be blocking everyone's view, and that's more rude! It's better if they just deal with it. ]
Seriously. [ Denji leans over again, voice dropped into a whisper as the lights begin to reduce in intensity. ] You better not pee in the middle of it!
[Each part is a little better than the last. If Denji actually thought he was going to be sharing any of this, or had the intention or willpower to hold back and allow the sharing, then he surely doesn't know Angel and his relation to food at all. He doesn't begrudge Denji for taking anything and, in turn, expects him not to begrudge him for taking anything in turn. He can have the whole side of caramel popcorn if he likes while Angel contents himself with slowly ripping apart the pretzel and eating it like that, occasionally grabbing a piece of popcorn, a sip from the way-too-sweet drink, a piece of candy... There's no real rhyme or reason, sometimes it's just where his hand reaches out to next. When Denji starts bothering him about going to the bathroom over and over, he finally huffs an annoyed sound and the theater goes dark (though their area stays dimly lit thanks to the ever-present nightlight).]
Devils don't pee.
[They do, but that's not really the point right now. He isn't about to explain how his digestion works. Someone behind him (maybe the same guy who watched him deepthroat a hotdog) grunts a quick, "Huh?!" at that statement, but Angel isn't paying attention. The movie is apparently going to start.]
[He doesn't know what he was expecting this movie to be about; the failure to defend your fallen comrades in the face of great destruction brought about by humanity's own hubris and journey toward self-annihilation wasn't it. Angel doesn't know a lot about human politics but it's pretty easy to follow everything. But when the main character's love interest is presumed dead and the man grits himself for revenge against some beast a hundred times his own size and a million times as powerful, Angel can't stomach his growing discomfort. His growing unease in the face of a suicidal attack as everyone around him tells him how stupid he is. How he's not going to win. How it's not worth dying for something like this. They can find another way.]
[But this is a movie, not real life. The love interest is okay in the end. The hero parachutes to safety as the monster is destroyed. Its body descends into the water and everyone is happy. Cheering, celebration. The two lovers reunite in a hospital. There's the tease of something more, of a re-emergence, of a battle that's never truly over. A pithy advertisement for round two, another round of the same story, repeated over and over. As the credits roll, Angel doesn't move, the empty remains of their foodstuff spread around him on the floor, in his lap, on the chair. He stares forward at the names scrolling up the screen, dead silent.]
[ There's a point where he stops reaching for the popcorn bucket, side of his jaw rested on his palm as he stares down the movie projection. It’s a lagging start for him. The scene setting for the main character's self-loathing, jumping then into this exhibition of what's always left after a war, what people always say it was all for: Other people, and the trauma reel that stretches on, outlasting the flagging smoke and flame and nationalist pride. It continues like that, with the action parts not being as much of a focus as he thought it'd be from the poster.
THE WOMAN: As flames took my parents, they ordered me to live. So whatever happens next, I know I must survive! That’s kept me going.
They stare at each other for a long time.
THE MAN: I can’t. They beckon to me in my dream every night. “Hurry and come,” they say. “Why are you still cheating death?”
THE MAN begins shaking again.
THE MAN: What if I’m really dead already? I died long ago on that island… and lie rotting. You and Akiko are just the last dream of a dead man.
THE WOMAN: You are alive!
It’s boring, for Denji. He can’t care about the main character any less, the turmoil inside him conflicted between dying in penance or living for retribution… He doesn't get what the fair-faced love interest sees in him at all. Why she's willing to sacrifice herself for him at the climax, and why he hears other people gasp, seeing her push him outside range of the shockwave following the creature's heat blast.
It's after the climax that Denji begins spending way more time following the story progression of each blink and microscopic movement in Angel’s expression than the actual film he paid actual money for. His gaze flickers over his way several times. The halo crowning the space above his head isn't the only oddity about him, it's the stillness in the way he sits there, well-kept, like something you secure in a glass case under very specific temperatures in dimmed light to avoid discoloring the pigmentation of his wafery frame. When he catches himself thinking something he's pretty sure he shouldn't, his eyes race to switch back to the screen.
Notably, he doesn't look away again until the main character is evaluating his jet right before what feels like the last battle. He's with one of the engineers, seeming to have resolved himself to carry out his vengeance, yet allowing, one last time, for his inner doubts to leak. "That’s funny. Part of me wants to live."
Like it just occurred to him. Like it hadn't been an underlying shadow this whole time haunting him far more than the comrades he left to die. What was it that Angel said last night?
DENJI: What's it like to live better? Is it dying?
ANGEL doesn't look back at him. What did his face look like? Did it sour? Did it reveal something?
ANGEL: Humans have everything. You're born, you fall in love. You get to die.
It's then ANGEL glances at him. Or did he? He did, didn't he?
ANGEL: That's why humans should suffer. There should be a punishment for not appreciating that kind of simple freedom.
DENJI: I think I get what you mean.
No, Denji didn't say that. But it probably doesn't matter what he really said back.
There's a crash as the main character's plane slams headfirst into the open mouth of the lizard creature, choking it for a few seconds, before taking out half its skull in an explosion. Someone in the theater is sniffling, believing the character to be dead, until the screen zooms on his ballooning parachute. A small group in the very back claps and laughs in relief, that feeling carrying throughout the remainder of the movie to its expected conclusion. Nobody moves throughout the credits until the screen fully blackens and the auditorium lights return to its default intensity. People pick up their trash, gradually filtering out of the aisles.
Most of their trays and boxes are empty, so Denji begins stacking those together, dusting off all the crumbs to the floor, while tossing their wrappers into their cups. ]
That was pretty whatever. Like, I get it's a prequel of a sequel of a sequel of something, so the lizard wasn't as powered up, but it still didn't feel like the real bad guy of the movie.
[ He gets up, moving for the exit to the room. ]
It was a solid six for me. But not every movie's going to be a ten out of ten, though. You have to keep watching to find the right one. [ So what if he's just repeating the same lines from his conversation with Makima? She was right. A pause, then he looks over his shoulder, prompting Angel for his own thoughts with: ] Well?
[Denji didn't like it...? Huh. Angel barely paid him any mind during the entire movie, so it's not like he was trying to gauge his enjoyment of the film. But when Denji finally turns to look at him, he isn't sure what to say. Did he enjoy it? Not really. Maybe it was the story, maybe it was the strange monster. Maybe it was the mass amounts of death and casualty that felt as if it only stood to make the monster seem worse. But what did it want? What was its goal? Just destruction and mayhem? Like any other devil?]
[He doesn't move from his seat, hands in his lap and a small kernel of popcorn stuck in his hair. His gaze moved from the blank screen to Denji looking at him, he finally shrugs his shoulders once.]
I think it felt too hopeful.
[As if a monster like that could be defeated by one man's pseudo-suicide attack. No, it would definitely take more than that. But how much more? Can something like that ever be truly destroyed?]
A single person can't hope to ever create that much change.
[He sits up as he says that, stretching his arms over his head. Most of the people have left but he can feel the stares from the ushers, waiting for them to leave both for their own peace of mind and so they can clean the theater. But Angel doesn't move to stand.]
I guess that's why this sort of thing is fictional, though.
[ This guy's so slow. Fully turned, arms crossed, Denji watches as he stretches his whole back out like a cat waking from a nap. At the very least, Angel's leisurely pace doesn't immediately tick him off this time — they're still good on time. No one's at risk of getting castigated if they're reported. Dismissing the looks angled at them by the ushers, Denji moves to hitch a seat up against Angel's armrest. ]
But it wasn't just him, right? He had all those other guys in the ships firin' at the thing, too. Trying to make it easier to take it down.
[ He stares at the screen in front of them, silver and empty. But he can still recall, the look of respect in their when the battle concluded. Of course the main character is going to do what main characters do: steal the show, drive the plot, pull peoples' heartstrings, make even skeptics root for him and salute his journey. They are what they are, and that's why everyone loves them by the end. ]
You don't like humans, anyway. Maybe you just didn't like it because it was too easy for them to be happy?
[ Was it really that easy of a time, though? There were still mass casualties. Homes lost, loyalties questioned. Guilt, fear, hesitation. If anything… ]
My take? The movie was too real for something that was supposed to be explosions and cool lizard powers. It felt like I was watching a history program on TV. Everyone just looked…
[ Hurt. Downtrodden. But what does he know. ]
…Well, it's just a movie. Next time, let's binge things back at the apartment! [ To avoid spending as much money as he is today. Please. ] If you like it when things feel more real, you should watch this nature documentary I saw once. It had, like, elephant mating stuff.
[ With a quick enough pluck to Angel's hair to bypass getting batted off, he tosses the popcorn kernel in his mouth and swings back to his feet. ]
C'mon. You ever been to an arcade? It's not far from here, and it's real close to this one café Power's been nagging me to try.
[It's uncomfortable when Denji, of all people, is able to nail why Angel didn't like the movie as much as he did. But it's not because he dislikes humans. He totally does - but their ability to be happy isn't governed by his opinion of them, either way. A movie that makes it that easy, for two people to avoid certain death and come together in the end... That sort of thing, he feels, just doesn't happen. But maybe that's why it happened on this screen, instead.]
[Apparently Denji expected it to just be the fight scenes, which Angel can forgive considering how excited he was. He's kind of like a dog in that way, just excited to see anything new. Surely that's the only reason he was interested in elephants mating. He's not really fond of seeing other movies after this, but maybe if they weren't so depressing he wouldn't mind. But if they were too happy he wouldn't like them, either...]
[But then Denji reaches towards him and, without understanding why he is, Angel instinctively turns his head as he tries to move away from the touch, trying to see the angle where his hand is going, trying to avoid it at the same time, and it's not going to his shoulder or his arm or anything but his hair. His hair? Right next to his - ]
[There's contact, only for a second, but it's there. The brush of Denji's thumb against the side of his cheek, a graze of skin over skin, and then Denji snags the popcorn that got stuck in his hair and pulls back. Angel doesn't move an inch even as Denji continues talking, blabbering on about some arcade and a cafe as Angel caculates what just happened. Touch, life. Halo. He starts to reach up to it, like by touching it he can better confirm what he already knows. No - What he's sure of. Hand half-raised toward it, but he's too afraid to confirm for real.]
[His eyes finally turn toward Denji and he looks deeply uncertain, almost - upset. Not like he'll cry, more like he's about to kick him again. His stomach is jumbling uncertainly, twisting and sloshing like cream. Or more like sour milk.]
Did you feel that?
[Maybe, just because he didn't, doesn't mean Denji didn't.]
[ Denji finishes sucking the butter from his fingers before meeting Angel's eyes, the color of his hands still healthy and moving as normal. No hint of rot or paleness. Feel what, is the question that's halfway out when the disinterest in his expression is chased away by the look Angel is pummeling him with. Confusion flits into caution. ]
Uh…
[ He thinks back to just a few seconds ago, the way Angel turned as if he were trying to parry his touch or something, how his thumb had glanced off his cheek. Soft, milky. Warmer than he thought. He always imagined the guy would run cold, for some reason.
…So maybe there'd been something brief. A prick. Something like the weakening of a nail before it folds backwards, snaps clean, but it hadn't been painful — just normal. Dead follicles dropping like leaves. Nothing as significant as that one trailer they watched with the two star-crossed lovers meeting after being separated by time and space, only for a brief brush of their fingers to unlock their memories of one another. But the way Angel's looking at him, he's not so sure how well the guy would take that. ]
Was I supposed to feeling something? [ And then, because he's expecting it, like when he dives his hand into Meowy's fluffy belly and she snaps her teeth at him in retaliation: ] Don't get mad at me. [ Or kick him again. ] Finders, keepers — if you wanted to save it for later, you shoulda been quicker. And I only touched you 'cause you turned! So don't hold that against me…
Now, seriously, let's go.
[ For a split moment, it appears he might reach over and lead Angel out by the wrist, since he hasn't seemed keen on making haste so far, but Denji's brow simply twitches and he turns. Tossing their trash on the way out, they go past the atrium to the exit, where the sun finds them at its highest peak. Other exiting moviegoers bring a hand up to their eyes to shield from the brightness, but Denji's a hound. Doesn't think about or mind that sort of stuff, just keeps trotting along down the path he thinks he knows. ]
[It's not like his power stings. It doesn't burn or ache or... hurt, to put it bluntly. But he knows it can be felt. He knows it's like a cold sponge suddenly sucking the moisture from your skin, a chilly breeze sliding through your very bones. But Denji just hops ahead like nothing at all happened. It should have been about a week, based on space of contact and length of time he spent actually touching him. Maybe six days or so. But he's just walking toward the exit like it didn't happen. And Angel suddenly wonders if maybe it's gone.]
[His legs pick him up at some point and follow Denji out of the theater, out into the harsh sun but Angel doesn't seem affected, just dazed, confused. Staring off into some undefined space. What were they doing next? He doesn't remember. Something about a cafe? Man, he wants to eat something. Watching this half human move through throngs of people so assuredly - turning through the crowd, sliding through tight spots, dodging clusters of people chatting. Angel looks down at his hand, staring at the three lines running across his palm as he walks. Heart, head, life - Is that how it goes? Something like that, he read once. But where did he read that?]
["Are you an angel?"]
[He doesn't look up at first, accustomed to ignoring most human voices since people don't usually talk to him in public because Aki Hayakawa walks in front of him and seems to exude some kind of authority that makes it clear he's in charge of the situation. But when Angel raises his head he realizes Denji is a good fifteen feet in front of him and they're separated by one or two people and the girl who is walking alongside him with wide eyes is much, much closer than he is.]
["Are you?" she asks when he finally looks at her. Angel nods his head, since, well, technically, yes, he'd say he's both. The girl's eyes light up in delight, maybe excitement, and as Angel tries to catch up to Denji, brain thronged with too many confusing thoughts, the sudden accompaniment of a human girl asking even more about if he'll give her a blessing or if she can pray with him are a little overwhelming.]
[ Their conversation in the theater is still weighing on his mind, surprisingly. As adept at sweeping he can't puzzle out under the rug as he is, you'd think this one would fit in well there with the rest of the clutter and the dirt and the indistinct chatterings of the folks at the bureau whenever they see a deceased hunter's belongings walked out. But he can't seem to do that with the dazed way Angel had reached for himself, a question in his eyes — then an answer.
So preoccupied, Denji doesn't realize he really has no clue where he's going until about halfway through their trek. And even after feeling nervous sweat begin to drop from his brow, he still has the nerve to keep walking on, pretending he has an idea of where they're going while pointing at the different sights in his periphery to distract Angel, so as not to seem even more the idiot that the devil probably already knows he is: Look at that store mascot, haha, isn't it kinda funny-looking; oh, I saw some people striking against this dog cafe once; that place is never open during the day, I've always wondered what goes on down there. He has Google Maps pulled up, but his phone data is really slow to connect right now. Damn it.
He pauses in the middle of walking to futz around with his phone, heedless to the people he's inconveniencing. They can walk around him for all he cares. From the corner of his something glints at him from beyond a shop window, and he realizes he's standing outside some cutely decorated anime merchandise store with blind boxes in the display.
Angels…? Oh, they have baby wings on their back… But they're so ugly. ]
Humans really do have weird ideas about you — huh? You — where did you go?!
[ No one's at his side when he turns, which… makes sense. Now that he's stopped to think about it, it was really weird to not hear Angel complain even once about the walking or respond to his titillating commentary. Sure, it's is a bad situation bordering on a fiasco — but that's how Aki would approach it. Denji? Cool as a cucumber. Getting lost in Tokyo is totally normal. It can't be that hard to find a guy with wings and a halo.
Denji stomps down the twinge of anxiety that twisting in his stomach. He curves his neck back to try seeing above the crowd. He doesn't panic, doesn't swivel like a screw coming uncorked in search of Angel. A look here and there. Nothing. Time to retrace the circuit he took them on. He forces his way between a couple holding hands, walks through a family of tourists taking a photo, bumps into some kids sharing a cone of ice cream. The scoop splatters on the sidewalk, and his sneakers track the vague imprint of the dessert as his easy strides steadily power into a full-blown sprint past the crowds, all the people suddenly obstacles to maneuver around. Halo, halo, halo — where the hell is that halo?
Ah.
Finally, he spots him. Really, he could have noticed he was back that way much sooner if he's just turned directly around in the first place, but whatever. It's fine. He shoots off. The picture of Angel's situations clears more and more with each guy (yes, he's aiming for the men) he throws off into the wayside to get to him. What's he doing with a human girl? Why is she looking at him like that? Why is she dressed like that? The questions number in the hundreds, but it's as he sees her begin to reach to touch Angel's hand, maybe to do some type of shared prayer, his thoughts split into zeroes.
His palm pushes into her chest; the strike is reserved by his standards, but it sends her sprawling across the path, wincing hard as she squeezes at her ankle. Denji has his other hand curled around Angel's slender wrist, wrenched away from her — mostly gripped around his sleeve, save for the slip of skin his thumb is pressed into. ]
…Sorry, lady, didn’t mean to touch your br… boob. [ In his head, "boob" sounds less dirty than "breast," apparently. Anyway, he's not apologizing for knocking her down. ] But you can’t grab this guy. He’s, uh, contagious. Tapeworms, y’know. [ After a moment, he helpfully adds: ] He doesn't wash his hands after he pees.
[ He looks at Angel, meaningfully.
Educational TV really does come in handy. Anyone who doesn't think so can suck it. Except his favorite programming hasn't taught him quite yet how to handle a crowd circling around a spectacle, glaring daggers at both the devil you're supposed to be supervising and, uh, you. Yikes. ]
[He gets told all the time that he walks slow, which doesn't bother him because why waste the effort for a brisk pace? Nothing he's ever going toward is anything he wants to meet, so going at his own pace is more than fine in his book. Except when this girl is following him and the gap between himself and Denji keeps growing and he can't see a way through the various humans in front of, around, and behind him to get closer. And she keeps talking.]
["My parents died in a devil attack," she tells him, almost sounding happy about this, but maybe she's just excited to talk to him. Some humans are like that. "The last thing my mother ever told me was to pray every day, and that heaven would send a guardian angel to look out for me. Can you tell me who they are, or how I can talk to them? Oh, are you a guardian angel? Or what kind of angel are you?"]
[He doesn't say anything to her, staring forward with heavy-knit brows as someone passes in front of his field of vision and, once they move, the blond head he was following is gone. His pace slows as he tries to figure out where he went but then someone knocks into him from the back and instead he tries to move to the edge of the sidewalk where a car blares past, too close for comfort. And she's still talking.]
["I heard angels come down from heaven to deliver messages. Maybe I'm not the person you're supposed to give a message to... Can I help you find the right person? ... Hey, maybe if I pray with you, I can find my guardian angel, right? Since I found you, after all. Will you, Mr. Angel?" And from the corner of his eye he sees her reaching down toward his hand, a motion as casual as a wave, a nod, a bow. But Denji was fine. When he touched him, he was fine. Nothing happened. Is it gone? Is she going to touch him and lose nothing? He turns to stare at her, his hand still, serious contemplation in his eyes. Like he might actually let her.]
[And then she's down on the ground wincing in pain as Denji stands beside him, apologizing for the attack to her breasts. Angel looks from him to her and then down at the hand on his wrist. Mostly on his sleeve, but when he turns his hand in his grip it reveals more of his wrist, more nude skin, his palm sliding against Denji's. Even as he tells the girl that Angel doesn't wash his hands and has a parasite infection, none of that actually computes in his brain. Cupping around his palm, fingers folding over the edge of his hand. He stares down at the clasp of their hands in something like awe. It's...]
Warm.
["Did that devil just kick her?" he hears someone whisper harshly, but he doesn't react to it. The girl has sat up and seems to be trying to stand, trying to say something about looking for her guardian angel. But someone else is quick to point out the obvious - "That's not an angel, that's a devil!" And Angel doesn't have the brain power to explain that he's technically both, still stuck staring down at their clasped hands like he just connected the circle of life.]
[ Denji hasn't noticed the new orientation of their hands, nor the way he marvels at something so easy as two hands fitting together, perfectly. No, he's still trying to do his job here. Things are getting out of hand; he has to do something. ]
Angel, devil, human — if you don't scram, I'm gonna chop all your asses into mince meat and make my own version of gyudon! Super ultra Denji special!
[ …So, of course, he's going to feed the terror licking up the backs of the people gathering around them, unfurling as fast as a wildfire gorging on dry brush and vegetation during a drought. Denji's definition of damage control is always going to be fighting fire with fire. To his credit, both spectators and intervening good samaritans do take a step back at the threat, someone dragging the devout girl back by her armpits, despite her cries claiming that Mr. Angel hasn't done anything wrong, hasn't committed any grave enough sins to be considered something so evil. There's his cue to exit stage left.
Not squandering another breath on this crap, Denji yanks Angel along with him, shoving away foreigner taking photos of what they probably believe is a street performance. With that, there's an opening for them to sail right into, running from the ruckus into a narrower passageway off to the side. There's clamor behind them. One person yelling for Public Safety, another shouting out after Angel — the girl's. Ballsier than the rest of them is the person who'd known from the get-go the Angel was a devil, because they try to give chase for the first few meters. But they're not like the freak humans employed at his workplace. When someone like Denji hooks a hand into the rim of an unattended bicycle, swings it out behind the two of them, they're obviously going to get tired. Lose the scent.
Denji takes them farther out, making one last sharp turn before they finally crash on some vacant street corner by a vending machine. Breaths coming out in puffs, he wrangles his hand out from Angels and slams his full arm against the cool machine, leaning his forehead against his wrist. ]
[Angel snaps out of it enough to recognize they're in a pickle and when Denji starts running, he follows at the same pace - surprisingly, maybe, but he can be quick when he needs to. He briefly considers lifting him up and just flying out of here, but he seriously hates using his wings like that and that kind of sighting would probably cause even more trouble... So running it is, all the way until they finally make it away from the crowd and can pause for breath, Angel nearly copying Denji's pose as he leans over and wheezes, both hands on his knees. One feels so much warmer than the other. Like he left it in the bath for too long while the other is cold and dry. Even as his breath is still heavy and face pale, he lifts that warm hand and stares at it, then raises his eyes to look at Denji.]
["I didn't think a devil and a human could actually live as one," he'd told Aki Hayakawa once. Maybe it was a slight, an attempt to rile him up, annoy him. But Aki didn't take the bait, simply saying, "It's useful in some ways. He recovers just like you devils do. It's like nothing can really kill him."]
I touched you, and you didn't die.
[Given the amount of time they ran with the full contact of his touch, he would have taken over a hundred years at this point. But he feels no different, can't feel any new life in his halo. And Denji is still standing, acting like nothing at all happened.]
[It's still hard to believe, but it's getting easier. Or maybe he just sees Denji as a willing test subject. Angel steps forward, raising both hands and placing them on Denji's cheeks, palms flat on his skin. Nothing. He squeezes a little, really pushes in - and nothing, nothing happens, no siphoning, nothing. It's like touching a glass window and seeing the idea of warmth inside without actually feeling the heat of the fire within. He moves one hand up to push Denji's hair back enough to expose his forehead, doing the same with his own, and pushes them both together, like the skin on his face might be different from his hands. Nothing.]
...You aren't dead.
[Said with his forehead still pressed into Denji's. He doesn't sound disappointed or upset or angry about it, though. There's still that quiet awe in his tone as he speaks.]
[ His eyes round, uncomprehending. Wallet, half out of his bag so that he can chuck change at the vending machine for a few cold drinks, suddenly tumbling to the toes of their shoes, where an unspoken DO NOT PASS perimeter has always been. The one Denji's been skipping in and out of all day, never expecting Angel to follow after. So of course it comes as a shock: The fingers diving through his hair, patting his face with hands as small as a child's brushing away invisible lines in the sand, instead sinking in, shifting through the grains to find sea glass to take home. But Denji's not that stupid. He knows Angel's looking for something else — or maybe he's already found it. Maybe that's why he isn't letting go.
…Oh, who the hell is he kidding. Even from up close, Angel's eyes inches away and redder than the lips of a rose, Denji can't read him any better than he can read Makima or the old man. Or Aki. ]
…You aren't pushin' me away.
[ It doesn't come out as an outburst, his voice quietly strained. Uncharacteristically, so. The connecting point of their foreheads is… Warm is putting it too kindly, it's sweltering and his clothes suddenly feel a few sizes too small, that must be why he can hardly get his words out. Crap, they shouldn't have ordered so much food back there. Double crap, he shouldn't have left the apartment without checking the weather forecast.
A nearby shop owner exits from their storefront to take out the trash, gives them an odd look, and quickly shuffles back in as Denji plants a hand dead center of Angel's face and shoves him into the vending machine, hard enough for it to shake and pop out a free drink. If he weren't busy frantically yelling and gesturing at Angel, he'd be rejoicing. ]
I mean, I've been telling you guys that this whole time! You think it was just for snots and hiccups? [ …Shits and giggles. He can't even think straight enough to get the idiom right. ] I can't die!
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ The driver's still looking at him, his face now distorted in a cringe, like his main concern is no longer that he's commuting a devil to a theater, but that a teenager may wet himself and soil his backseat on the way there. Pulling a nasty face, Denji fishes inside the open pocket of his crossbody bag and thrusts his Public Safety badge forward, nearly punches it into the side of the guy's face. Probably should have done from the very beginning, but he only got the idea after Angel showed off his papers first. ]
See, dude? We're legit. Now stomp on the gas or else I'll do it for ya.
[ Not so much convinced by either their explanations or fancy documents, but threatened into submission, their vehicle finally begins to pull out into the street with a jerk, tires squealing. The driver seems dead set on avoiding eye contact with either of them during the ride, and making this one as quick as possible. In fact, Denji's pretty sure his foot never eases off the gas once since he entered traffic, like he's speeding just to get them out of his cab. ]
Uh, woah there — [ Denji yelps, bouncing back in his seat, scrambling to get his seat belt on. He glances at Angel. ] Hey, you, get your belt on, too! It's the rules!
no subject
[The seatbelt digs into his back when they make a harsh turn and he glances at Denji, watches him pull his own on while ordering him to wear his. But he doesn't like to wear them. His wings don't stretch out enough if they're blocked by the seatbelt and the flat of the fabric feels uncomfortable on his feathers. Plus...]
I heard car accidents are a common way of dying.
[So wouldn't that be nice, to die in a car accident right now. Sure, the driver might die, too, but Denji would probably be okay. Again he jostles to the other side and pushes a hand into the cushion between them, trying to stay upright.]
[Maybe this is what it's like an amusement park rides? He's seen those on big posters downtown. People always look so happy riding them.]
Have you ever been on a roller coaster?
[They jerk to a stop at a red light, the driver tapping impatiently on the wheel until it turns green and he can sprint forward again. Because the devil in the back seat started talking about car accidents and roller coasters and that's got to be a bad combo.]
no subject
Denji's about to ask if a Rollercoaster Devil counts, but his head whips forward at the abrupt stop, the retractor mechanism in his belt triggering and packing him back from banging into the driver's seat in front of him. The band's so tight it feels as if someone had clove hitched him to his seat. Rubbing a hand under the the belt to stretch it out from its chokehold on his windpipe, he seethes out through clenched teeth — ]
Believe me, dude, in a lousy ass ride like this, a seat belt could kill ya just fine. Might even snap your neck, instant! So why dontcha quit mumbling and try your luck —
[ The driver sets off again, making sharp turns that have Denji gagging in pain, when his back crashes into his seat again, then growling, because he even anticipated his assholery and still got got. Damn it, he can't take this anymore.
Without warning, he launches toward Angel's side of the car, one arm trying to brace against his collar so that he can rip the belt strap across his chest and into the buckle. He wouldn't usually be so forceful about something like this. Life and death, whose clock runs out, when — none of that's ever mattered to Denji. But Aki's snobby voice loops in his ears, "Your job is protecting people, not killing devils." And apparently Angel's safety is the public's safety, even if the current public is a raging dick who should get his license revoked!
Besides, if a civilian died because Angel brushed up against him as he volleyed through the windshield, he'd probably get into trouble… ]
There, now just sit back —
[ "We're here," the driver announces at the same time Denji speaks. "Now get you and your devil out." ]
no subject
You're so...
[And then the car lurches to a stop as Denji finishes buckling him in and before the driver can finish speaking Angel is up and out of the car, faster than Denji has probably ever seen him moving.]
[He has half a mind to just walk home. This is stupid. He couldn't go two seconds without getting that close to him, so what's going to keep him from dropping dead before the day is over? But it's annoying, because Denji's apparent belief that he can't be killed is worming its way into Angel's brain, too. He doesn't know if his touch will kill a half-devil, half-human. Especially not one who bouces back from the goriest of deaths with a rip of that cord. In fact, he touched that cord and nothing happened. Is it just different, like how his wings and halo are safe to touch?]
[Regardless, they're not things he's willing to test. Casting a glare over his shoulder, he waits for Denji to get out before speaking.]
Do you know how mad he'd be if you died today?
[Maybe if he doesn't care about Angel's personal space he'll consider the impact of his death on Aki.]
no subject
When he finally turns to focus on Angel, it's… Honestly, it's with great reluctance — from one angry person to another, with him today. But this time, it's actually his fault, he knows. He crossed another line with him. Saw it in the way his wings shifted back, his face turned away like Denji has some contagious respiratory disease, or whatever. So yeah, he's expecting a tongue-lashing of some sort. Just not him to bring up Aki. ]
Are you friggin' kidding me?
[ It was Aki who told him to be careful with Angel. Make sure he gets around safe and crap. Ugh. ]
Who cares if he gets mad? [ Denji stomps past him, shoving his wallet back into his bag. Aki gets mad at him for nearly anything he does thoughtlessly. Dying probably being one of them, maybe, but it's not like it'd mean much to him long-term. Not the way something else would. ] Hate me touching you so much? Put on your own damn belt next time. He'd be sad if you died.
[ He only pauses up ahead to glance over his shoulder, make sure Angel's following. ]
Now come on. We still gotta get the good stuff before the movie starts.
no subject
[But he follows dutifully behind, keeping a few steps back, farther than he would with Aki. The thing is, usually when he's with Aki, Aki is in uniform, not casual clothes like Denji is. It makes it look less like he's part of Public Safety and more like he's just a rogue devil wandering around in a work suit. Barely any different from a salaryman heading home on Halloween. There are a few quiet mutters around, moreso compared to the other night. Maybe because the area is more crowded...? He doesn't know.]
[Usually he can ignore this sort of stuff but with Denji acting like he does, without a visible buffer between him and all these damn people, he can feel his mood crashing. This was such a bad idea. Such a stupid idea. Why would he even want to see a monster movie, anyway? He shoves his hands in his pockets and lets out a long, beleagured sigh.]
...She said to get butter on the popcorn. [Muttered, before he forgets. At least one good thing may as well come from this. Realizing he didn't specify and usually this is when Aki would give him a questioning look, he adds,] Makima.
no subject
…Hm. Buttered popcorn sounds good right about now!
[ He says it extra loud, acting like the thought just appeared in his head, freezing out the agitation clear in his posture, and wasn't actually a suggestion posed by Makima — or Angel, her mouthpiece in this case. ]
Ah, that line's short. [ The smarter move would be to direct Angel to stand somewhere vacant in the back, waiting for him, but instead Denji begins maneuvering them the way toward a less populated line. One of the best parts about the theater is seeing the candy selection up close, the waft of popcorn spilling out from the overly full cases, the grilling hot dogs. Denji hasn't been the nicest during this excursion so far, but — well, this thing is for Angel. He should be able to look at stuff without being at distance. Life's boring, otherwise. ]
See, they actually have different flavors outside of butter! I'm like thiiis — [ His fingers pinch, like 🤏. ] — positive ya can get half-and-half of the cuh — curu — [ … ] The brown popcorn. Think about what you want, and we'll get it. Aki gave us extra cash, so…
no subject
[Especially when told there can be a combo. A combo, really... But what if he just wants one flavor? But something sweet and salty would be nice, too... Would butter really be that good? But Makima is the one who suggested it, and she probably wouldn't tell him a bad flavor. He thinks. But there's hot dogs, too, and those big pretzels, and not to mention the candy boxes. It's a lot to choose from, and Denji picked a short line. They're at the register in no time and Angel is still only staring at the popcorn machine behind the part-time clerk who, while nicer than the taxi driver, seems just as concerned by the presence of an obvious devil. And a delinquent, judging by Denji's look.]
...I want one of everything.
[Aki definitely did not give them enough for "one of everything."]
no subject
You heard him. One of everything.
[ Aki may not have given them enough, and he may not have been able to make off with his card this time, but there's at least one saving grace on his side. Da-daaan — he holds up his phone device, smug, as if he were holding an authorization badge. The screen is brightened with what appears to be his account details with the theater's rewards program… and an excessive amount of redeemable points?!
At the hesitation still preventing the clerk from beginning the transaction, Denji pushes his device toward them again, shaking it with extra impatience. ]
What's the big deal? Scan my code and get movin' already! That should discount some of the stuff, right?
[ The points were properly collected immediately after his date with Makima, as part of his bid to watch as many flicks as possible to make conversation with her, maybe be the one to pay instead for their next movie marathon. But nothing's actually come of that, since her schedule's always so packed. Anyway, some manager-type does eventually step in to adjust and readjust his rounded glasses at Denji's phone screen, before beginning to ring up one of each individual item, combination meals excluded. So by the end, they have a little gathering of exactly as Angel request, one of everything. One popcorn tub with a divider in the middle of both buttered and caramel flavors, a hot dog, pretzel, churro, pizza slice, a candy box, a soda, some nachos… The list goes on, and somehow they're walking away with all of it.
But they're going to have to share everything. ]
Dude, you're tipping over on one side…
no subject
[At first, Angel keeps taking stuff off the counter as it's handed over simply because he wants to eat it. Once they're walking away and he realizes he has more than half of everything that was ordered and he's liable to drop it all on the ground and lose it all... He's realizing this may not have been the best idea. But.]
I got it...
[He pulls his wings forward, the feathers intertwining in front of him to create something like a net or a woven fabric. Angel carefully pulls his arms out from his sea of food and the wings manage to hold them in place against him, pushing in flat near his stomach so not even a single piece of popcorn can fall out onto the floor.]
Yeah.
[See? This is just like when they killed that boar devil and Aki wouldn't let him take back as much as he wanted to. He could have carried it. But that day they got to have donburi so he can't be that mad about it.]
[When they finally make it into the theater, their seating choice means they have to walk in front of pretty much everyone just to get to their seat. It's crowded but the room is still lit, thankfully, making it easy to navigate, and Angel follows after Denji without complaint, wings holding everything with no problem. They get some stares, obviously, though whether it's because he's a devil or because they have a buffet of food, he doesn't really know. Either way, once they finally sit and he can begin moving everything around in his wings with his hands, Angel actually looks somewhat content. Like he's in his element. Sitting down with a lot of food. This is perfect.]
[There's some mumbling behind them. A few voices from other moviegoers. Is that a devil? Are those wings real? Wait, is that light gonna be on for the whole movie? But Angel doesn't even turn around, taking a piece of popcorn resting against the edge of his wings and tossing it into his mouth.]
no subject
[ Yes, two normal-sized hands and two giant-sized feathery ones.
For better or for worse, Denji seems to have lightened up a smidge, watching Angel carry most of their freight in. It's like having one of those collapsible grocery wagons or dollies around he's seen at the department store. He's always wanted one, in particular because it looked fun to ride in and have Power pull him around, but now he can sort of see other uses for them!
Astonishment aside, he does take inventory of the glances falling their way, the whispers. They stop by some of the floor staff on their way in for Denji to once again whip out of his Public Safety identification and insist they're present due to "very important recon purposes" on the premises… And even though the two of them looked at one another, as if to ask how one could possibly do "recon" seated in the audience (and front row at that), they agreed to dismiss any concerned reports from moviegoers about there being a devil.
Seated together, Denji begins to arrange his portion of the food around their armrests, the cup holders, his lap and knees — with all of it splayed out, it does strike him as a bit much, but oh well. If Aki were here, maybe he would have thought of the idea of using certain trays as individual plates to split up some their fare up in a kind of sampler smorgasbord, then place the rest aside at their feet or something…
But since he isn't, Denji's perfectly happy with their current mess of a setup. ]
Hey. You should put the popcorn in the middle. I don't wanna reach over you again.
no subject
[And for once... When Denji asks him to move the popcorn over, Angel only hesitates for a moment. And it's mostly due to not being sure how to do it. He looks at the little boat of a container holding the hot dog that's balanced precariously between his wing and the popcorn bucket and, deciding not to risk dropping it, instead picks it up and simply shoves the entire thing in his mouth, taking the hot dog down his throat in a single bite.]
[Someone behind them who was probably staring at the scene chokes. But Angel swallows, wiping a crumb off his finger, then manages to adjust the rest of the things to be able to remove the popcorn bucket safely as everything else settles in his lap.]
Here. [And he places it beside him, his wings sliding back to give him room to take it without touching them, either.]
no subject
Pouting, he essentially punches his whole fist into the caramel side of the tub, grabbing as much as he can fill inside his cupped hand, a few puffy kernels tumbling down to the floor while he stuffs his mouth. It's so yummy, the scowl on his face suddenly disappears as he grabs some more. ]
Y'see? That's the stuff. I thought it was weird and, like, poopy-lookin' at first, but the hard shell's made out of — [ He pauses, thinking. Another fistful mushes into his mouth, sending more kernels into his lap. ] …Actually, I dunno, I mean — I'm not sure. I think it's basically sugar. Pretty sure that's what Miss Makima said. Anyway, it tastes good, right?
[ …The caramel side is about at halfway empty now, so they'll have to make do with mostly eating from the buttered side throughout the duration of the actual movie. In a fashion, eating a ton of your snacks before the movie's started is also a quintessential moviegoers experience. So, really, he's doing a tremendous job at showing Angel the ropes!
When it comes close to time for the lights to dim, Denji reminds Angel to go to the restroom a few extra times, trying to impress upon him how annoying it is when someone gets up in the middle of the movie. Movie theater etiquette and all that, which is rich coming from him, seeing how each time a new straggler funnels into the theater, a shocked look speeding their way, Denji chooses to ignore it. Like, what can they do at this point? Hang a jacket over Angel's halo? Then that'd be blocking everyone's view, and that's more rude! It's better if they just deal with it. ]
Seriously. [ Denji leans over again, voice dropped into a whisper as the lights begin to reduce in intensity. ] You better not pee in the middle of it!
no subject
[Each part is a little better than the last. If Denji actually thought he was going to be sharing any of this, or had the intention or willpower to hold back and allow the sharing, then he surely doesn't know Angel and his relation to food at all. He doesn't begrudge Denji for taking anything and, in turn, expects him not to begrudge him for taking anything in turn. He can have the whole side of caramel popcorn if he likes while Angel contents himself with slowly ripping apart the pretzel and eating it like that, occasionally grabbing a piece of popcorn, a sip from the way-too-sweet drink, a piece of candy... There's no real rhyme or reason, sometimes it's just where his hand reaches out to next. When Denji starts bothering him about going to the bathroom over and over, he finally huffs an annoyed sound and the theater goes dark (though their area stays dimly lit thanks to the ever-present nightlight).]
Devils don't pee.
[They do, but that's not really the point right now. He isn't about to explain how his digestion works. Someone behind him (maybe the same guy who watched him deepthroat a hotdog) grunts a quick, "Huh?!" at that statement, but Angel isn't paying attention. The movie is apparently going to start.]
[He doesn't know what he was expecting this movie to be about; the failure to defend your fallen comrades in the face of great destruction brought about by humanity's own hubris and journey toward self-annihilation wasn't it. Angel doesn't know a lot about human politics but it's pretty easy to follow everything. But when the main character's love interest is presumed dead and the man grits himself for revenge against some beast a hundred times his own size and a million times as powerful, Angel can't stomach his growing discomfort. His growing unease in the face of a suicidal attack as everyone around him tells him how stupid he is. How he's not going to win. How it's not worth dying for something like this. They can find another way.]
[But this is a movie, not real life. The love interest is okay in the end. The hero parachutes to safety as the monster is destroyed. Its body descends into the water and everyone is happy. Cheering, celebration. The two lovers reunite in a hospital. There's the tease of something more, of a re-emergence, of a battle that's never truly over. A pithy advertisement for round two, another round of the same story, repeated over and over. As the credits roll, Angel doesn't move, the empty remains of their foodstuff spread around him on the floor, in his lap, on the chair. He stares forward at the names scrolling up the screen, dead silent.]
no subject
As flames took my parents, they ordered me to live. So whatever happens next, I know I must survive! That’s kept me going.
They stare at each other for a long time.
THE MAN:
I can’t. They beckon to me in my dream every night. “Hurry and come,” they say. “Why are you still cheating death?”
THE MAN begins shaking again.
THE MAN:
What if I’m really dead already? I died long ago on that island… and lie rotting. You and Akiko are just the last dream of a dead man.
THE WOMAN:
You are alive!
It’s boring, for Denji. He can’t care about the main character any less, the turmoil inside him conflicted between dying in penance or living for retribution… He doesn't get what the fair-faced love interest sees in him at all. Why she's willing to sacrifice herself for him at the climax, and why he hears other people gasp, seeing her push him outside range of the shockwave following the creature's heat blast.
It's after the climax that Denji begins spending way more time following the story progression of each blink and microscopic movement in Angel’s expression than the actual film he paid actual money for. His gaze flickers over his way several times. The halo crowning the space above his head isn't the only oddity about him, it's the stillness in the way he sits there, well-kept, like something you secure in a glass case under very specific temperatures in dimmed light to avoid discoloring the pigmentation of his wafery frame. When he catches himself thinking something he's pretty sure he shouldn't, his eyes race to switch back to the screen.
Notably, he doesn't look away again until the main character is evaluating his jet right before what feels like the last battle. He's with one of the engineers, seeming to have resolved himself to carry out his vengeance, yet allowing, one last time, for his inner doubts to leak. "That’s funny. Part of me wants to live."
Like it just occurred to him. Like it hadn't been an underlying shadow this whole time haunting him far more than the comrades he left to die. What was it that Angel said last night?
What's it like to live better? Is it dying?
ANGEL doesn't look back at him. What did his face look like? Did it sour? Did it reveal something?
ANGEL:
Humans have everything. You're born, you fall in love. You get to die.
It's then ANGEL glances at him. Or did he? He did, didn't he?
ANGEL:
That's why humans should suffer. There should be a punishment for not appreciating that kind of simple freedom.
DENJI:
I think I get what you mean.
No, Denji didn't say that. But it probably doesn't matter what he really said back.
There's a crash as the main character's plane slams headfirst into the open mouth of the lizard creature, choking it for a few seconds, before taking out half its skull in an explosion. Someone in the theater is sniffling, believing the character to be dead, until the screen zooms on his ballooning parachute. A small group in the very back claps and laughs in relief, that feeling carrying throughout the remainder of the movie to its expected conclusion. Nobody moves throughout the credits until the screen fully blackens and the auditorium lights return to its default intensity. People pick up their trash, gradually filtering out of the aisles.
Most of their trays and boxes are empty, so Denji begins stacking those together, dusting off all the crumbs to the floor, while tossing their wrappers into their cups. ]
That was pretty whatever. Like, I get it's a prequel of a sequel of a sequel of something, so the lizard wasn't as powered up, but it still didn't feel like the real bad guy of the movie.
[ He gets up, moving for the exit to the room. ]
It was a solid six for me. But not every movie's going to be a ten out of ten, though. You have to keep watching to find the right one. [ So what if he's just repeating the same lines from his conversation with Makima? She was right. A pause, then he looks over his shoulder, prompting Angel for his own thoughts with: ] Well?
no subject
[He doesn't move from his seat, hands in his lap and a small kernel of popcorn stuck in his hair. His gaze moved from the blank screen to Denji looking at him, he finally shrugs his shoulders once.]
I think it felt too hopeful.
[As if a monster like that could be defeated by one man's pseudo-suicide attack. No, it would definitely take more than that. But how much more? Can something like that ever be truly destroyed?]
A single person can't hope to ever create that much change.
[He sits up as he says that, stretching his arms over his head. Most of the people have left but he can feel the stares from the ushers, waiting for them to leave both for their own peace of mind and so they can clean the theater. But Angel doesn't move to stand.]
I guess that's why this sort of thing is fictional, though.
no subject
But it wasn't just him, right? He had all those other guys in the ships firin' at the thing, too. Trying to make it easier to take it down.
[ He stares at the screen in front of them, silver and empty. But he can still recall, the look of respect in their when the battle concluded. Of course the main character is going to do what main characters do: steal the show, drive the plot, pull peoples' heartstrings, make even skeptics root for him and salute his journey. They are what they are, and that's why everyone loves them by the end. ]
You don't like humans, anyway. Maybe you just didn't like it because it was too easy for them to be happy?
[ Was it really that easy of a time, though? There were still mass casualties. Homes lost, loyalties questioned. Guilt, fear, hesitation. If anything… ]
My take? The movie was too real for something that was supposed to be explosions and cool lizard powers. It felt like I was watching a history program on TV. Everyone just looked…
[ Hurt. Downtrodden. But what does he know. ]
…Well, it's just a movie. Next time, let's binge things back at the apartment! [ To avoid spending as much money as he is today. Please. ] If you like it when things feel more real, you should watch this nature documentary I saw once. It had, like, elephant mating stuff.
[ With a quick enough pluck to Angel's hair to bypass getting batted off, he tosses the popcorn kernel in his mouth and swings back to his feet. ]
C'mon. You ever been to an arcade? It's not far from here, and it's real close to this one café Power's been nagging me to try.
no subject
[Apparently Denji expected it to just be the fight scenes, which Angel can forgive considering how excited he was. He's kind of like a dog in that way, just excited to see anything new. Surely that's the only reason he was interested in elephants mating. He's not really fond of seeing other movies after this, but maybe if they weren't so depressing he wouldn't mind. But if they were too happy he wouldn't like them, either...]
[But then Denji reaches towards him and, without understanding why he is, Angel instinctively turns his head as he tries to move away from the touch, trying to see the angle where his hand is going, trying to avoid it at the same time, and it's not going to his shoulder or his arm or anything but his hair. His hair? Right next to his - ]
[There's contact, only for a second, but it's there. The brush of Denji's thumb against the side of his cheek, a graze of skin over skin, and then Denji snags the popcorn that got stuck in his hair and pulls back. Angel doesn't move an inch even as Denji continues talking, blabbering on about some arcade and a cafe as Angel caculates what just happened. Touch, life. Halo. He starts to reach up to it, like by touching it he can better confirm what he already knows. No - What he's sure of. Hand half-raised toward it, but he's too afraid to confirm for real.]
[His eyes finally turn toward Denji and he looks deeply uncertain, almost - upset. Not like he'll cry, more like he's about to kick him again. His stomach is jumbling uncertainly, twisting and sloshing like cream. Or more like sour milk.]
Did you feel that?
[Maybe, just because he didn't, doesn't mean Denji didn't.]
no subject
Uh…
[ He thinks back to just a few seconds ago, the way Angel turned as if he were trying to parry his touch or something, how his thumb had glanced off his cheek. Soft, milky. Warmer than he thought. He always imagined the guy would run cold, for some reason.
…So maybe there'd been something brief. A prick. Something like the weakening of a nail before it folds backwards, snaps clean, but it hadn't been painful — just normal. Dead follicles dropping like leaves. Nothing as significant as that one trailer they watched with the two star-crossed lovers meeting after being separated by time and space, only for a brief brush of their fingers to unlock their memories of one another. But the way Angel's looking at him, he's not so sure how well the guy would take that. ]
Was I supposed to feeling something? [ And then, because he's expecting it, like when he dives his hand into Meowy's fluffy belly and she snaps her teeth at him in retaliation: ] Don't get mad at me. [ Or kick him again. ] Finders, keepers — if you wanted to save it for later, you shoulda been quicker. And I only touched you 'cause you turned! So don't hold that against me…
Now, seriously, let's go.
[ For a split moment, it appears he might reach over and lead Angel out by the wrist, since he hasn't seemed keen on making haste so far, but Denji's brow simply twitches and he turns. Tossing their trash on the way out, they go past the atrium to the exit, where the sun finds them at its highest peak. Other exiting moviegoers bring a hand up to their eyes to shield from the brightness, but Denji's a hound. Doesn't think about or mind that sort of stuff, just keeps trotting along down the path he thinks he knows. ]
no subject
[It's not like his power stings. It doesn't burn or ache or... hurt, to put it bluntly. But he knows it can be felt. He knows it's like a cold sponge suddenly sucking the moisture from your skin, a chilly breeze sliding through your very bones. But Denji just hops ahead like nothing at all happened. It should have been about a week, based on space of contact and length of time he spent actually touching him. Maybe six days or so. But he's just walking toward the exit like it didn't happen. And Angel suddenly wonders if maybe it's gone.]
[His legs pick him up at some point and follow Denji out of the theater, out into the harsh sun but Angel doesn't seem affected, just dazed, confused. Staring off into some undefined space. What were they doing next? He doesn't remember. Something about a cafe? Man, he wants to eat something. Watching this half human move through throngs of people so assuredly - turning through the crowd, sliding through tight spots, dodging clusters of people chatting. Angel looks down at his hand, staring at the three lines running across his palm as he walks. Heart, head, life - Is that how it goes? Something like that, he read once. But where did he read that?]
["Are you an angel?"]
[He doesn't look up at first, accustomed to ignoring most human voices since people don't usually talk to him in public because Aki Hayakawa walks in front of him and seems to exude some kind of authority that makes it clear he's in charge of the situation. But when Angel raises his head he realizes Denji is a good fifteen feet in front of him and they're separated by one or two people and the girl who is walking alongside him with wide eyes is much, much closer than he is.]
["Are you?" she asks when he finally looks at her. Angel nods his head, since, well, technically, yes, he'd say he's both. The girl's eyes light up in delight, maybe excitement, and as Angel tries to catch up to Denji, brain thronged with too many confusing thoughts, the sudden accompaniment of a human girl asking even more about if he'll give her a blessing or if she can pray with him are a little overwhelming.]
no subject
So preoccupied, Denji doesn't realize he really has no clue where he's going until about halfway through their trek. And even after feeling nervous sweat begin to drop from his brow, he still has the nerve to keep walking on, pretending he has an idea of where they're going while pointing at the different sights in his periphery to distract Angel, so as not to seem even more the idiot that the devil probably already knows he is: Look at that store mascot, haha, isn't it kinda funny-looking; oh, I saw some people striking against this dog cafe once; that place is never open during the day, I've always wondered what goes on down there. He has Google Maps pulled up, but his phone data is really slow to connect right now. Damn it.
He pauses in the middle of walking to futz around with his phone, heedless to the people he's inconveniencing. They can walk around him for all he cares. From the corner of his something glints at him from beyond a shop window, and he realizes he's standing outside some cutely decorated anime merchandise store with blind boxes in the display.
Angels…? Oh, they have baby wings on their back… But they're so ugly. ]
Humans really do have weird ideas about you — huh? You — where did you go?!
[ No one's at his side when he turns, which… makes sense. Now that he's stopped to think about it, it was really weird to not hear Angel complain even once about the walking or respond to his titillating commentary. Sure, it's is a bad situation bordering on a fiasco — but that's how Aki would approach it. Denji? Cool as a cucumber. Getting lost in Tokyo is totally normal. It can't be that hard to find a guy with wings and a halo.
Denji stomps down the twinge of anxiety that twisting in his stomach. He curves his neck back to try seeing above the crowd. He doesn't panic, doesn't swivel like a screw coming uncorked in search of Angel. A look here and there. Nothing. Time to retrace the circuit he took them on. He forces his way between a couple holding hands, walks through a family of tourists taking a photo, bumps into some kids sharing a cone of ice cream. The scoop splatters on the sidewalk, and his sneakers track the vague imprint of the dessert as his easy strides steadily power into a full-blown sprint past the crowds, all the people suddenly obstacles to maneuver around. Halo, halo, halo — where the hell is that halo?
Ah.
Finally, he spots him. Really, he could have noticed he was back that way much sooner if he's just turned directly around in the first place, but whatever. It's fine. He shoots off. The picture of Angel's situations clears more and more with each guy (yes, he's aiming for the men) he throws off into the wayside to get to him. What's he doing with a human girl? Why is she looking at him like that? Why is she dressed like that? The questions number in the hundreds, but it's as he sees her begin to reach to touch Angel's hand, maybe to do some type of shared prayer, his thoughts split into zeroes.
His palm pushes into her chest; the strike is reserved by his standards, but it sends her sprawling across the path, wincing hard as she squeezes at her ankle. Denji has his other hand curled around Angel's slender wrist, wrenched away from her — mostly gripped around his sleeve, save for the slip of skin his thumb is pressed into. ]
…Sorry, lady, didn’t mean to touch your br… boob. [ In his head, "boob" sounds less dirty than "breast," apparently. Anyway, he's not apologizing for knocking her down. ] But you can’t grab this guy. He’s, uh, contagious. Tapeworms, y’know. [ After a moment, he helpfully adds: ] He doesn't wash his hands after he pees.
[ He looks at Angel, meaningfully.
Educational TV really does come in handy. Anyone who doesn't think so can suck it. Except his favorite programming hasn't taught him quite yet how to handle a crowd circling around a spectacle, glaring daggers at both the devil you're supposed to be supervising and, uh, you. Yikes. ]
no subject
["My parents died in a devil attack," she tells him, almost sounding happy about this, but maybe she's just excited to talk to him. Some humans are like that. "The last thing my mother ever told me was to pray every day, and that heaven would send a guardian angel to look out for me. Can you tell me who they are, or how I can talk to them? Oh, are you a guardian angel? Or what kind of angel are you?"]
[He doesn't say anything to her, staring forward with heavy-knit brows as someone passes in front of his field of vision and, once they move, the blond head he was following is gone. His pace slows as he tries to figure out where he went but then someone knocks into him from the back and instead he tries to move to the edge of the sidewalk where a car blares past, too close for comfort. And she's still talking.]
["I heard angels come down from heaven to deliver messages. Maybe I'm not the person you're supposed to give a message to... Can I help you find the right person? ... Hey, maybe if I pray with you, I can find my guardian angel, right? Since I found you, after all. Will you, Mr. Angel?" And from the corner of his eye he sees her reaching down toward his hand, a motion as casual as a wave, a nod, a bow. But Denji was fine. When he touched him, he was fine. Nothing happened. Is it gone? Is she going to touch him and lose nothing? He turns to stare at her, his hand still, serious contemplation in his eyes. Like he might actually let her.]
[And then she's down on the ground wincing in pain as Denji stands beside him, apologizing for the attack to her breasts. Angel looks from him to her and then down at the hand on his wrist. Mostly on his sleeve, but when he turns his hand in his grip it reveals more of his wrist, more nude skin, his palm sliding against Denji's. Even as he tells the girl that Angel doesn't wash his hands and has a parasite infection, none of that actually computes in his brain. Cupping around his palm, fingers folding over the edge of his hand. He stares down at the clasp of their hands in something like awe. It's...]
Warm.
["Did that devil just kick her?" he hears someone whisper harshly, but he doesn't react to it. The girl has sat up and seems to be trying to stand, trying to say something about looking for her guardian angel. But someone else is quick to point out the obvious - "That's not an angel, that's a devil!" And Angel doesn't have the brain power to explain that he's technically both, still stuck staring down at their clasped hands like he just connected the circle of life.]
no subject
Angel, devil, human — if you don't scram, I'm gonna chop all your asses into mince meat and make my own version of gyudon! Super ultra Denji special!
[ …So, of course, he's going to feed the terror licking up the backs of the people gathering around them, unfurling as fast as a wildfire gorging on dry brush and vegetation during a drought. Denji's definition of damage control is always going to be fighting fire with fire. To his credit, both spectators and intervening good samaritans do take a step back at the threat, someone dragging the devout girl back by her armpits, despite her cries claiming that Mr. Angel hasn't done anything wrong, hasn't committed any grave enough sins to be considered something so evil. There's his cue to exit stage left.
Not squandering another breath on this crap, Denji yanks Angel along with him, shoving away foreigner taking photos of what they probably believe is a street performance. With that, there's an opening for them to sail right into, running from the ruckus into a narrower passageway off to the side. There's clamor behind them. One person yelling for Public Safety, another shouting out after Angel — the girl's. Ballsier than the rest of them is the person who'd known from the get-go the Angel was a devil, because they try to give chase for the first few meters. But they're not like the freak humans employed at his workplace. When someone like Denji hooks a hand into the rim of an unattended bicycle, swings it out behind the two of them, they're obviously going to get tired. Lose the scent.
Denji takes them farther out, making one last sharp turn before they finally crash on some vacant street corner by a vending machine. Breaths coming out in puffs, he wrangles his hand out from Angels and slams his full arm against the cool machine, leaning his forehead against his wrist. ]
Dude. What was that about?
no subject
["I didn't think a devil and a human could actually live as one," he'd told Aki Hayakawa once. Maybe it was a slight, an attempt to rile him up, annoy him. But Aki didn't take the bait, simply saying, "It's useful in some ways. He recovers just like you devils do. It's like nothing can really kill him."]
I touched you, and you didn't die.
[Given the amount of time they ran with the full contact of his touch, he would have taken over a hundred years at this point. But he feels no different, can't feel any new life in his halo. And Denji is still standing, acting like nothing at all happened.]
[It's still hard to believe, but it's getting easier. Or maybe he just sees Denji as a willing test subject. Angel steps forward, raising both hands and placing them on Denji's cheeks, palms flat on his skin. Nothing. He squeezes a little, really pushes in - and nothing, nothing happens, no siphoning, nothing. It's like touching a glass window and seeing the idea of warmth inside without actually feeling the heat of the fire within. He moves one hand up to push Denji's hair back enough to expose his forehead, doing the same with his own, and pushes them both together, like the skin on his face might be different from his hands. Nothing.]
...You aren't dead.
[Said with his forehead still pressed into Denji's. He doesn't sound disappointed or upset or angry about it, though. There's still that quiet awe in his tone as he speaks.]
no subject
…Oh, who the hell is he kidding. Even from up close, Angel's eyes inches away and redder than the lips of a rose, Denji can't read him any better than he can read Makima or the old man. Or Aki. ]
…You aren't pushin' me away.
[ It doesn't come out as an outburst, his voice quietly strained. Uncharacteristically, so. The connecting point of their foreheads is… Warm is putting it too kindly, it's sweltering and his clothes suddenly feel a few sizes too small, that must be why he can hardly get his words out. Crap, they shouldn't have ordered so much food back there. Double crap, he shouldn't have left the apartment without checking the weather forecast.
A nearby shop owner exits from their storefront to take out the trash, gives them an odd look, and quickly shuffles back in as Denji plants a hand dead center of Angel's face and shoves him into the vending machine, hard enough for it to shake and pop out a free drink. If he weren't busy frantically yelling and gesturing at Angel, he'd be rejoicing. ]
I mean, I've been telling you guys that this whole time! You think it was just for snots and hiccups? [ …Shits and giggles. He can't even think straight enough to get the idiom right. ] I can't die!
(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)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
not me losing this notif 💀
no worries!! dw notifs are so easy to lose track of 😭
(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)
(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)
(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)