[ The whole road sports a motley of ambulances parked to the side, lights mutely flashing as a few other waterlogged swimmers are treated for their injuries. Even as they pass by someone calling out their friend's name, begging anyone they can get their hands on for information, or a mother holding her little girl's hand as she wails all throughout the feeling of stitches pushing her split brow back together — Denji barely blinks. It's all he can do to keep his eyes on the sandy gravel ahead of him. He's still disoriented; his head is pounding, everything being said to him echoing pointlessly in his ears, like he's been dunked top-down inside a fish tank.
Denji gets the gist, though. Something bad has happened. People are hurt, and he's one of them. That's why Aki was crying again. Because he couldn't keep himself safe for less than an hour without him. He's so uncool. So —
He tries clambering up on to the foot the stretcher alone, but thinking he's tripping over that first step, the two first responders rush in to help, gripping him by the pits of his arms.
Weak. God, why is he such a weakling?
He knows his siblings are nearby, but he can't bear to look their way. It's embarrassing. Doesn't want them to see the pink glaze stinging his eyes, how his nose is dribbling. That's why it's a relief when the man who'd resuscitated him blocks his view, starts going through the same old motions and check-ups. They listen to his chest, his heart. Ask about his name, where he's from, his medical history, the usual stuff, the stuff he just did a few days ago at the clinic and now he's doing it all over again. When does it stop? Will it ever? Denji makes a disgusted, watery noise at himself. Blinks hard as he scrubs at his nose with the back of his wrist, but the act seems to worsen the clogged sensation in his lungs, crawling up his throat.
"You're okay," the man says, handing his partner the clipboard he was jottings notes down on. Seeming to sense his distress. "You're doing well. Breathe slow."
Denji's not okay. Denji's not doing well. Denji's sick of this shit.
Air blows past his lips, blue and still tasting of salt.
"She —" He juts a thumb toward the other paramedic who throws up a peace sign. He stares at her until the gesture drops. Denji watches the interaction, wary. "She's going to tell your siblings we'd like to monitor you for a few hours at the hospital. One moment."
His mouth snaps closed, ready to object. But the finger held out to his face is an easy indication to Denji to shut his trap.
"We'd like to, but we can't. With this incident, and the rise of other attacks recently, the hospital is fully occupied. You were lucky that yours is a case of non-fatal drowning. You don't exactly fit the cleanest bill of health, but you're awake and you're lucid. No memory issues. If you start experiencing trouble breathing or extreme migraines, we want you to come in and get checked, but I'm not concerned that'll be an issue. You're free to go whenever you're ready." ]
…'kay. Thanks. [ He glances in Aki and Power's direction, noticing the latter of the two on her feet, springing toward him. Aki probably isn't too far behind her. His head staggers down a notch in a quick bow of his neck. ] I mean, thank you very much, sir — urk.
[ Power hops into the back of the vehicle, squishing into his side, nearly pushing him off the stretcher with little care to Denji's own comfort. Body squirming from within her nuzzling, he darts a glance among the other faces there, searching for any form of aid. ]
[It's difficult to get near the situation without feeling like he's intruding. Which is beyond stupid - He can see kids crying and their moms holding them in their laps, shushing them gently even when they aren't hurt. Maybe a scraped arm or a stubbed toe. Shouldn't Aki be right in there, too? Shouldn't they be part of this, not shoved off to one side, watching from a short but too far distance as Denji rubs at his face, his front still soaked with seawater...]
[He's gripping Power's hand so tightly that she finally says his name, snapping him out of it as one of the aides come their way, looking back at Denji briefly as if to double check this is the right group before she turns her attention to Aki. "We want to bring him to the hospital," she begins, and Aki immediately snaps, No. He knows he's gripping Power's hand too tight again but it's for a good reason. If she's so confident about snatching up one of them - ]
[But she's quick to put her hands up in a placating manner, explaining the dilemma, that the hospital is too full. That he seems okay, that he's breathing and isn't looking like he's on the verge of collapse. That his breathing seems a little rough and that they should monitor him, that if it gets worse they can bring him to the hospital. And is that okay? Despite her too cheery tone feeling uncanny in this situation it's actually working to calm Aki down, enough that he loosens his grip on Power's hand to the point that she can slip free and hurry over to Denji, tackling him into a tight hug with Aki calling her name pointlessly after her. He starts to follow but the paramedic stops him, a hand on his shoulder. "He's breathing a little rough, and his pulse is pretty high," she explains, looking over her shoulder at Denji just as his eyes meet theirs. "You'll bring him in just in case anything happens, right? He said you all live down south - You shouldn't travel if he's still in bad shape. Okay?"]
[Absolutely not, he wants to say, because the truth is that Aki wants to go home, now. He doesn't care about this trip or playing hookey or any of the myriad of reasons he finally agreed to this whole thing. The idea of taking Denji to some hospital in an area he doesn't know only for them to suddenly find something wrong with him and that means they have to keep him overnight and then the next night and then a week and then a month and then -]
["You okay?" she asks suddenly, reaching into her pocket and taking out a handkerchief. Fat, wet tears are spilling down his cheeks but Aki looks furious despite it, staring down at the ground with a fiercely knit brow and lips pulled so tight they may as well be gone. "We can - "]
Don't take him. [He mutters it, his voice on the edge of cracking on the last word. With the threat of more cracks following, he quiets for a moment, reaching up to wipe his face on the back of his hand, smearing a few grains of sand over his cheeks before daring to look at the woman again.] He's - We've got medicine. I'll take care of...
[...As if. He got dragged away before he could even get a foot near the water. All he has in his travel bag is some antiseptic and ibuprofen. None of that can help Denji, and if not for all the people around him right now, he wouldn't even be alive right now. Raising his eyes to look at Denji, still far enough away that he'd need three or four steps to reach him, he can't help but think - ]
[What can Aki even do, anyway?]
[He sits with the two of them on the opposite side of the street, the whole area still blocked off but the opposite side is where the shade is, where he tugs them both to with his hands outstretched and grasping each of theirs tight. Denji in between them, he doesn't say a word, only slowly rubbing his back up and down, repetetive and gentle, like he can somehow scoop all the unhealthy out of him, all the badness that's crawled inside him that's made him this way and coax it into one solid lump that he can tug out and leave him with only good, only health, only happiness. It isn't fair, he wants to insist. It isn't fair that he found a new family and things keep threatening to destroy this one, too, before he has any ability to protect it properly. It's just not fair - but it's not like any of this knowledge is new.]
[ Secluded away from the dizzying mass of personnel coming and going, the droves of people fleeing inland, Denji can only submit to the concern swathing both ends of his shoulders. He doesn't have the right to complain about Power's territorial inspection of his arm, thumbing the veins in his wrist to make sure none other than her teeth's taken a bite from him recently; Aki's long strokes across his spine, teary-eyed, devastated, and not acknowledging it, hanging onto him like a kid seeking comfort from a pet he thought lost after a storm. Both of them, buoying Denji. What they don't know is that he doesn't need it, that his heart is heavy enough to fasten him in place.
…All his life, he's had so much to answer for. This part, this solace eclipsed in Aki and Power's combined vitality, their infinite warmth, is just another log to the ledger. That time before with the devil, too, and every other time he's watched pain and fear scar Aki's face, every time Power had to walk slower when he knew she longed to run. Every time Denji knew it was his doing.
A sudden thought: Maybe it's not them buoying Denji, but Denji anchoring them. Dead weight. Holding them back from setting off, two sails bound for the horizon.
It's with that he tries to lean away from them. Straighten out of their little huddle, fingers clenching and unclenching to work the numbness out. He needs to. They need him to, or else they'd be there the rest of the day. ]
I'm okay, [ he says, mainly for Aki's benefit, since he's the one who needs the reassurance most. Even if he's the least likely to believe him. His voice may be hoarse, worn down, but it's level, because that's the part that matters most to his siblings, so he has to stick the landing, make it believable. Meanwhile, his heart thunders in double time. ] Geez, your eyes are runny… Powy, didn't we pack anything, in case he saw someone stub their toe and start bawling for 'em?
[ Power actually nods. Releases his arm in exchange for a nice pat to her head, her nose tilting every so slightly upwards in smugness as she dumps the contents of her bag out into her lap. A tissue lands in his hand, and Denji reaches his arm over, dabbing at the sandy particles stuck to his cheeks, folds its over with a quick pinch of his fingers to bring a clean canvas for Aki to achoo into. ]
[He doesn't want to. Aki wants to turn his nose away and stick it up to the sky. The feeling of either of them caring for him will never not bring with it a feeling that it isn't right, that they're doing something incorrect by rubbing his shoulder or convincing him nothing is wrong. It's treating the symptom and not the cause. All the effort is going to the wrong spot. Denji scrubs at his face and then presents it for him to blow and a terrible thought barrels into him, that in another world, Denji wouldn't be here to ever do something like this again.]
[More wet, messy tears gather in his eyes and his lip quivers, pulling tight and causing his chin to wrinkle. It's not fair, he wants to insist, like saying it out loud will matter at all. It's not fair that Denji is like this, both sweet and clueless and stupid and understanding. He offers the tissue but all Aki can see through the cloud of tears is the way his fingers look pale and wrinkled from the water.]
...Just wanted-- ... [His voice cracks, and Aki's lips pull shut again, now pouting in embarrassment, frustration. He settles his chin onto his knees and then lowers his face into them, rubbing at his eyes against his bare skin. Into the valley of his legs, he finishes what he was going to say.] ...Just wanted you to have fun.
[He wanted things to be normal, for once. He wanted them to experience a vacation in a normal way, playing with other kids and getting to eat a ton of food and getting lost in a new city and falling asleep in starchy yukata in a hotel. But now - After all that, how can they even think about having fun?]
[He shouldn't have let him go in the water. He should have told him to come in with him. He should have stayed out with him. He should have stayed back home. He should have gone to the house with Taiyou.]
[A new crop of tears wet his eyes and he squeezes his legs together tight, the same thoughts barreling into him over and over. You should have gone with him. You should have stayed inside. You should have brought gloves outside in the first place. You should have kept walking when he threw that snowball at you. You should have told him you were happy that he was your brother. You should have done anything - But all you did was stand still.]
[There's a sound like a heavy wave crashing the shore, a few devil hunters calling for people to say back from the corpse, but Aki doesn't even look up, shivering and shaking as tears run down his cheeks. He wants to go home. He misses his mom and dad. He misses Taiyou. He misses his house, his neighborhood, his school, his bedroom. The little TV set he used to watch cartoons on in the morning while he ate breakfast. Even though he knows thinking back on all of this just makes it all worse, it crashes into him like a tidal wave, forcing each memory down his throat like water flooding his lungs. Is this how Denji felt, too? Or was it more peaceful than this? Did he stop thinking and just surrender? He doesn't want to know.]
[Reaching out one hand from its spot clasped around his legs, he blindly feels for him now, snatching for his hand and gripping it tight. He can feel the steady warmth of his palm like this and the way his fingers move in his grip and it's better than looking at him right now, a better assurance that he's alive. Aki squeezes and squeezes, stuck in those memories of normalcy with only that handhold tethering him to the reality where it's all gone.]
[ Shit. Wrong move. Denji watches dumbly as the damp tissue in his hand waves and tosses with the wind, eventually crumpling with an open and close of his fist. His rejection is an easier pill to swallow than the one sitting behind it: The glittering droplets dredging along his brother's black lashes, soaking his blistered face. Half-drowned in his own sorrow. Partly because of Denji, but he has the feeling that something else, something more abstract and difficult to explain, is at play. Waxing at the root. He rubs the ruches in his fingers together, as if the friction might smooth down the bumpiness in his hands, and with it, stow away his longing to make this better. As if he could. As if that were even within his ability.
But for as long as he's known him, Aki is inconsolable when he cries. Once the tears get going, the storm won't let up. Won't stop pouring down, pushing through the cracks in the sidewalks and roads, rising above sea level to pool together with the rest of the watery depths in the world. Too colossal to be known, to fully wrap his arms around. It's not fair. That they have to go through this every time — it's not fair. ]
It's…
[ It's not your fault, he could counter, resisting Aki's self-blame. None of it was your fault. If you were there, you would have gotten hurt. I wanted you to have fun, too. I wanted you to be safe and not hate this day. The water was so blue, did you see it? Did you get a chance to look? Did you?
His face ducks down just as Aki's hand clamps tight around his fingers, holds him fast and painfully tight, preciously, like a pearl being tucked away inside a cracked shell. But it's the reverse. What Aki is, what he means to them and to Denji. He's not the loach, not the substitute for a mother; he isn't simply a brother to him. He's the bossy kid that would always lecture Denji for using his hands to eat dinner, yet snuck him candy, even after brushing his teeth. The one who let him crawl into his bed after a bad nightmare. The boy who never turned him down if he begged him to play catch. That's the shape Aki takes for him, like when you look at the symmetrical crystals of a snowflake up close —
His shoulders hunch, eyes tensing to erect his own dam against the prickle threatening to spill over into a larger disaster. Except it's too late. Hot oil rushes into the sea, blotting out his vision, devastating the ecosystem. ]
It's okay. [ Stupid thing to say when his nose can't seem to unclog, his throat is sticky and throbbing, but someone has to. Has to make the wish, no matter if it grows up into a lie. ] You, me, Powy. We can come here again. [ His head shakes. A swift correction: ] We will. I wanna — with you. Nothin' bad's gonna happen to any of us next time… 'cause we'll be older. Grown-ups.
[ He hates himself for always charging into thoughtless promises and contracts, not knowing whether he'll be able to keep his end of the deal. But still, he seals it, gaze to the ground as he rests the back of Aki's knuckles against his heart and presses his lips to their bunched up hands, hardly discernible which appendage belongs to who. ]
[Great, Aki thinks to himself, hearing the sound of Denji's nasally voice, the way it sounds when he's trying not to cry, too. Now he's gone and made Denji cry. It would amplify his guilt and despair and frustration if there was any room left to increase them - but when Denji mentions they'll be older, that they'll be grown-ups...]
[It's not the first time Denji has said something like it, no - they always argue about how things will or won't change when they get "older," when Denji doesn't have to listen to Aki's nagging or is old enough to decide, actually, ice cream is okay for dinner... But in a situation like this, where emotions are high, where Denji was almost lost to them, when it felt like he'd truly lose his family again - after all the times Denji has said that he won't grow up, that something will happen before that can happen successfully...]
[Stupid, he wants to snap. Stupid, idiot, dumbass. That he knows just what to say to make his waterworks get worse, that he knows that stupid, pointless hope is like a kryptonite to Aki's superego, the part of himself that tries desperately to keep everything in check and hold his head up high. The mere suggestion, from Denji of all people, that they'll come back here one day in the future when everything is settled, when Aki is a devil hunter, when Denji and Power have graduated, maybe Denji getting a job at a convenience store, Power writing cult hit after cult hit of her messed up and crazy fairy tales... That the future Aki keeps assuring them will happen will actually, truly, happen. It's all he wants.]
[That and killing the Gun.]
[Aki raises his head to look at him, face red and tear-streaked. His brow is knit and his lips pulled into a quiver, tight and full of wrinkles as he tries to keep it to a silent cry as always. Stupid. Stupid, dumbass Denji. He reaches around him, hooking his un-clenched arm around both him and Power and drawing them down into a tight hug. He's already forced them into this today, sure, but he thinks it's warranted. This reminder that, no matter what, they'll have a future to live out. Together.]
You dumbass. [His voice is shaky as he says it, without a lick of harshness. Even as noise echoes around them at the end of the devil attack, as Public Safety arrives to clean up the mess, he doesn't let them go, clinging tight and hard, like it will somehow seal the deal if he's strong enough. Which has always been his logic, so it's not out of character, no. But maybe that he actually lets the hope penetrate a little deeper is.]
[ Denji bows his head, sagging into his brother's wet chest, as if every muscle were fettered down by Power's arms creeping around his sides, Aki's tear-stained face drying against his brassy hairs. To live, and to live among people, with them — on one hand, that's the albatross strung to his neck. On the other, they're a second skin he can't imagine ever shedding. The future has always felt like a poison presented to him in a gilded chalice, clearly not for him, so obviously a trick, one that he’s refused over and over. Now, Denji drinks it like its holy water, the single true remedy.
It doesn't settle well in his stomach and he wants to cough up every drop, but even so. He's just a passenger for the future Aki is setting course for. When his fortune ends and where he disembarks from them, who knows. Even so.
His grip on Aki's hand refuses to let up. The breaths of three kids intertwine together, as in a loom, bound in a triple-threaded knot. Beside them, Pochita sits apart, watching with his wide and alert eyes. Keenly aware of them in a way that doesn't suit any old dog off the street. ]
[ As the beach and its occupants clear out, Denji loses track of time. What is and isn't said between them. All he can really register, for some reason, are the seabirds returning to the skies overhead, circling, cries distant in the background. At some point, they return to their belongings, which are gathered together in a clump off the side of the road with items left behind by other beachgoers. Glancing back to the shore, he can see a devil's carcass laying there, part of its side peeling off and getting dragged into the sea by the waves moving in and out. Though the situation is settled, it doesn't bring any relief. The sun's just a couple degrees off from the horizon; the day, gone and past in a blink.
Back in the shirt he arrived in, Denji hugs the bag Pochita is comfortable zipped inside — it's the one thing Aki permitted him to carry during they're morose journey back to the station. After Denji complains about starving, Power sighs, mumbles something about how even dictator witches must rule with some kindness, then with a big grin, she offers her arm out to him. Denji smacks her away.
A promise to stop by a convenience store on the way home gets made, and from there, the rest of the trip is silent. On the train ride, try as he would to stay awake, his head slowly dips into the window as he goes in and out of a dreamless void. It takes a harsh shake to his shoulder to get him to his feet at their stop. When they at last, reach their doorstep, it's late into the night and Meowy's there to greet them. Power dumps the bag of pre-prepared meals they snagged on their way back on the dining table before rushing at her beloved pet.
Normally, Denji would head straight for the grub (after all, he was the one who wanted to eat to begin with), but he makes a beeline toward the bathroom to get a bath running instead. Doesn't let Pochita trot in behind him or Aki to lend a hand. No matter where he touches himself, there's grimy salt embedded into his skin — he just needs a second to himself to scrub everything off. Coming out of the bathroom, he looks much better. ]
Aki… You busy?
[ But there's a scrunch to his mouth as he finds Aki, fingers rolled into the hemline of his shirt. Denji nervously glances around as he approaches, making sure it's just the two of them around. He drops his voice a register. ]
You know that, uh, guy before? The one that got me to wake up. [ Here, he visibly struggles to get the words out. His eyes stay affixed to the ground. ] That guy… kissed me, right?
[It's a strange return home. The silence, usually only present after an argument, is painful to sit in but Aki has no plans to break it or lift it, even gently. He shakes Denji awake as they near their station, urging him quietly to his feet, offering to take the bag holding the devil, but as always it's a fool's errand with him. He can still see sand stuck to his skin in places, dirtying his hair. He can still see the way he lay there, Aki with no idea what to do, no idea if he was even going to survive in those next few moments. The realization that "saving" someone is as much reactionary as it is preventative. All his life he's focused on the latter as if it would all work out in the end. That he'd never have to worry about what to do in the moment if the moment simply never came.]
[He leaves Denji to wash himself and unpacks their things in the meantime, squatting down in their bedroom as Power eats in the living room and talks to Meowy about nothing. The devil is somewhere - he hasn't been paying any attention to it. So when Denji comes in, clean and warm and yet still full of the same anxiety, they're both alone, their beds folded up in the closet with the intention that they wouldn't be back until tomorrow morning. He looks up at him, his attention answer enough as to whether he's busy or not. Then sits in silence as he tells him the idiotic thing he's apparently been thinking about.]
[Aki lowers his gaze, pulling the duffel bag shut and folding it over on itself. He pushes the straps into the middle and manages to form it into a tight square that can be pushed into a storage box in the closet.]
No.
[A forthright answer that's both true and blunt in a way that could be cruel. He stares down at where the duffel bag was stored, at how easily it fit right back into its designated place. Nice and neat and out of the way. He reaches over and tugs the closet door shut, turning around to face Denji. His expression is steady, unwilling to get worked up by a stupid question.]
It's called CPR. He was blowing into your lungs. It's not...
[It's something Aki realized in that moment that he didn't know how to do. He knows how to bandage people up, understands the ideas behind blood flow and how to stop it. He didn't understand how that paramedic jumped into action, the rhythm with which he began pumping Denji's chest. The brief pauses as he leaned over him and blew breaths down his throat, tilting his chin far back that it made his thin throat puff up with each push of air. Those things were never in the home healthcare books he read. They always simply said, Call an ambulance if someone isn't breathing. Problem, response.]
[As the sort of kid to climb up the cabinets to get something he wants rather than deign to ask an adult, the sudden realization that the cure for such a thing was so physically simple, something he could learn if he simply tried...]
...If I'd have known how, I would have done it, myself.
[ Aki's explanation of the procedure is concise and factual. What couldn't be easier to accept? Denji wasn't able to breathe on his own. Someone had to share their air with him. That's it — the sanctity of his first kiss is still intact, he's alive, and now his family is safe and back home. He doesn't have to think about what happened, how his mouth tingled like cold needle tips pressed to his lips when he came to, the lingering taste of someone else's breath clinging to his soft palate.
But then Aki goes and says what he says. Denji eyes him, puzzled by the proclamation. ]
You? But — you're my aniki. [ A slight laugh makes its way into his voice. He can tell Aki's joking. His sense of humor is so fudged. How is this guy ever going to get married? Denji creeps further into the room, kneeling beside the outlet where his phone is charging with the rest of his possessions. Tries to act real natural about checking his messages, even though a bunch of them are just marketing texts he's forgotten to unsubscribe from. ] I get that this CRP-thing is just what those rescue guys do to help people, but still… That's like some serious mouth-on-mouth action. You'd really go at it with another dude like that?
[ Aki doesn't always have to be the one to come to his rescue, but if he made that point, he'd get a tongue-lashing for sure. ]
It's probably better that a pro was there to handle things, anyway.
[There's that word again - Denji only started saying it recently, didn't he? Aki would blame it on him watching yakuza movies or something like that, but both times he's heard it lately have been in these high-emotion situations. So... So, what does he mean by it?]
[For a moment, the desire to understand that competes with listening to what Denji says next. Would he go at it with another dude? His brow pulls taut, lips thinning out.]
It's not kissing. I already told you. Kissing isn't like that.
[And Aki has kissed before, after all. The girl who asked him to a festival a couple years back had hurriedly planted one on his lips after he walked her home - Until that moment, he thought it was a group outing, since a lot of their mutual friends had all gone together. Aki hadn't mentioned it to either Denji or Power but word got out before long through the gossip mill thanks to her telling everyone, to his chagrin. It also soured any chance of him dating her after that. But, because of that one, brief and chaste kiss on a chilly night when he was thinking about a hundred other things, he can assuredly confirm that the medic did not kiss Denji.]
I'll probably learn how to do stuff like that, eventually. And I'm not going to not help someone just because it's a guy.
[He pauses. Lets some of the tension bleed out of him, content with the way he shut down both of Denji's concerns. So he can now lean over and push his palm into his forehead - not quite a smack or a shove, just a somewhat punishing push.]
And quit calling me aniki. You sound like a troublemaker.
[ Denji remembers hearing about it, Aki's first kiss. He was still in middle school at the time, so what happened didn't reach his ears until months into the second term. It'd vexed him back then how easily his brother kept those details to himself, how he'd had to stop just out of sight in the hallway, eavesdropping as Aki's friends hung out in their bedroom, teasing him about his wasted first kiss. Any instance of bringing it up to him thereafter ended in Denji being stone-walled, obviously. Leave it alone. You should be focusing on passing your high school entrance exams, not who's kissing who, yada, yada.
It'd rubbed him wrong. There's always something more important to focus on, but sometimes what happens when you walk into a room and notice the furniture's been moved is that you can't stop remembering how your home used to look like. You can't stop fixating on the dark impressions left behind in the floor. He'd felt that way when Aki joked about getting laid, and it rubs him wrong now, picturing Aki rushing to someone else's aid, pushing into their chest, his arid breaths swathing that person's tongue and rushing to their lungs. Whether it's a kiss or not, he doesn't like it.
Witheringly — that's how Denji looks at Aki, the back of his head leaning into the wall. Unresisting the weight warming his forehead. ]
What's your problem?
[ Weakly sighed, though he doesn't bat the hand away. He can't really deny that he's troublemaker after today's events, or even after the events of the past few weeks. His face shifts away, the ends of his freshly shampooed hair poking out from the slits between his digits. ]
That's just what you are. There were guys like you who I grew up with. [ Guys, he says, but they were very much older men. Strong and muscled, irezumi engraved around healed over scars. Or sometimes the other way around; scars streaking through the elaborate ink canvasing someone's back, down their torso, over their thighs, wounding the illustrations, but never their fierce loyalty to the clan. There were some folks who liked beating Denji down, but some of them used to look out for him. Drag him back up on to his scrawny legs by the scruff of his collar, dust his head off after a tussle. ]
They looked out for folks, like you do. But I think they had a whole bunch'a other guys backing 'em up.
[ Denji purses his lips together, listening for either interjection or objection from Aki before continuing. ]
D'you think I can do that for you, too…? Help you helping people.
[Aki isn't thrilled to be compared to dregs like the ones he imagines Denji was surrounded by before they came into each other's lives. Even from the beginning, he was disturbed by his logic threads and stories he'd tell about how those people behaved and treated him - missing fingers, tattoos peering over the collars of their shirts, chiseled physique built by punching man instead of devil. Aki has no desire to be anything like that, so when Denji asks if they can be like that, summarizes them down to simple folks who helped other folks, his instinct is to curl his lip.]
[But he keeps it flat. Doesn't remind him that he was rubbing shoulders with hoodlums at that age. It won't help in this moment - he can tell Denji's upset with this discussion, and Aki's response to it. He lets him ask that question and then lets the silence hang for a moment.]
I don't know.
[He doesn't know what that looks like. For one thing, he has no desire to let Denji anywhere near Public Safety, or even private devil hunting. Someone with his constitution could never survive even basic training. But he's already dug into him too much about that, already cried over all of that, so it's not worth sprinkling more salt on the wound, or aggravating the stuff that's already poured in deep. He settles back on the floor, staring across at him like trying to discern a puzzle. A role for Denji...]
...You know, there's not really a point to Public Safety if there's no public. [Though Denji will never accept the request to sit by the sidelines and watch - not forever, anyway. So he goes on.] If I was doing this by myself, without both of you, I might not care as much. Or I might have given up by now. But I want to keep living with you, and coming home like this. [He's never good at talking emotionally about this stuff. He rubs at his back with his knuckles, frowning.] I don't know what the best kind of role for you is, or if I want you to be "backing me up" in that kind of way. But I still want you to be there.
[ Wanting him to follow his dreams, knowing he'll make it no matter what happens, but still desperate to be involved in his story in some way. Remembered, considered, prioritized. It's a rocky pedestal Denji holds Aki up to, all the time, without really meaning to. Sometimes he can ignore what he does, what he gets away with. Sometimes, when Aki's speaking to him so carefully and kindly, he feels it — his own complicity in driving him on this path.
He knows Aki is telling him that it's alright, he doesn't need do more than he already does, in so many words. But… ]
That's enough for you?
[ Denji sets his phone aside, face down. The floor creaks with the new redistribution of weight as he moves on his hands and knees, plopping down, sitting with his arm curled around Aki's elbow. Head rested on his shoulder, the rise and lowering of his shoulders rubbing against him as he releases a breath, full and unbroken. ]
I want us all to be like that, too. [ Rather, that's all he wants. The dinners, the kidding around, nights spend packed in front of the TV. Aki knows this, which is why he's telling him it's fine, he can keep doing what he's been doing. Still, Denji just wants him to remember: ] But, y'know, if there's anything that comes up — you could practice with me, the stuff you gotta work on. It'll be like all those times we helped you run lines for that play, yeah? I'll be more serious about it, since I know it'll be for your real big kid job. Hell, if you gotta learn CPR, CRP, and all that, I've already got experience!
[Of course it's enough for him, Aki hears himself say, but the words never leave his lips. He doesn't want anything but that. He wants Denji and Power to live full lives, healthy and happy, doing what they want. It's a selfish desire because, to Aki, such a future isn't possible without the destruction of the Gun Devil. And that future can't happen without him going to Public Safety. And the best chance of getting there, of getting a shot at the Gun, is to go to Tokyo.]
[Like everything in his life, it all comes back to one devil.]
[Denji curls himself around his arm and settles against his shoulder and Aki sits still so he can, even tilts his head to the side until he's comfortable. He doesn't have it in him after everything that happened today to shut him down, but the promise to help him learn CPR gets a short, amused sound out of him. He raises his free hand to set on his head, carefully and gently straightening out his wet hair.]
I'll hold you to that, you know. You'd have to let me kiss you.
[Teasing, lighthearted. He won't tell him there's no chance he'll take him anywhere near that sort of world after today. That he would have been happier if someone else had died if it meant Denji hadn't been hurt. Yeah, if it had been like last time... Like last time, when that devil had killed that other student. Would he throw someone in the line of fire to protect one person? For Denji, yeah. For Power, yeah. And that's not right, he knows. He knows it's selfish and cruel, to weigh one life against another and instantly make a judgment. So he says nothing of it and simply keeps them out of the situation.]
You can sleep with me tonight, if you want. [There's a brief pause.] I won't get mad at you this time. [So long as you don't tell me I'm like your mom, he doesn't say.]
[ Kissing Aki — that's a thought he never foresaw he'd have to consider. But it's not one he confronts with any true revulsion. He should, maybe, knowing their relationship, what he means to him, that he's another boy his age, but he doesn't. It doesn't feel strange to imagine, like he could do it right now if the need called for it, right as they are, with his head nuzzled into his shoulder. All Denji would have to do is lift his chin, inch forward, and brace for impact. ]
Don't kick me out this time…
[ His nose turns in for one fast moment — it's hard to say if he's trying to scrub the image from behind his eyelids, or if he's just trying to find a way into Aki's skin, wedging himself underneath. Could be that he's caught between both compulsions. Sighing, he reluctantly pushes apart from his brother, hands rubbing at his sides. His fingers sure are cold. Is the heat really on? ]
I'll help rollin' the beds out.
[ He probably shouldn't be helping with anything, but he shoves aside that niggling feeling, sliding the closet wide open. Remembering that they would have been spending their night at a ryokan, had circumstances not soured, he sighs again while pulling one bedroll out, the sound stringing out of him long and uneven. Denji avoids exerting too much of his energy by simply scooting each futon out from the shelf where they're stored, letting them flop at his feet, making sure to shift back in time. With a bit of pulling and maneuvering, the beds are all wind up set in a row. ]
Pochita can have the third one all to himself tonight, [ Denji says, glancing Aki's way. More or less an excuse to search for his approval of his handiwork. ]
[Aki notices it, even if he doesn't want to. Denji sounds weak. He sounds like he does after these episodes, and Aki has learned not to outright comment on it. He knows he'll get defensive or disagree or complain that Aki's being too pushy, too paranoid. That he's fine. He leans back on his knees to call out to Power, tell her it's time for bed. She shouts back that she'll be there soon, once whatever dark bidding she's doing has been accomplished. When he turns back and sees all three beds laid out, he's a little surprised - but when Denji says one is for the devil dog, he doesn't question it or comment.]
Put on some socks, so your feet stay warm. [Even with the chilly weather, he's still in a tee and long sweats. He has a feeling Denji is going to shove his hands under his shirt at some point in complaint about being cold... Well, it's worth it, if he can keep him close tonight. Monitor his breathing and wake up quickly if anything goes wrong.]
[When he pulls back the covers, he reaches out to find Denji's pillow to tug closer before patting the bedding for him to come in. The light, left on its dimmest setting so Power can still find her way in, casts an eerie glow in the room, more orange than yellow, dark corners darker than usual. He sets his head down and thinks aloud:]
In Tokyo, we can probably get full beds, off the floor and everything. It'll be warmer, and easier to clean... [Then trails off, the image cementing itself easily beside the many others he's voiced about their near future. Certain and detailed. It's calming, in a way.]
[ Aki's reminder reaches Denji right as he's settling into bed, causing him to pause, slide a tired look his way, before then lumbering back up and toward their dresser. He returns with balled up socks in hand, butt unceremoniously landing on the edge of the futon with a puff of the sheets as he slips them on. The future — their dreams for it, distant and not — always has a way of stealing into their conversations at this time of night. He doesn't always enjoy hearing Aki pine for it the way he does, like it's a star so luminous, he'd happily walk straight into its supernova without hardly a second thought for whether it's safe to.
Tonight, it's fine. Of course, he'd rather hear the contentedness in Aki's voice over his watery gasps, his strangled sobbing. His misery.
Shadow looming over the bulk of the room for a moment, Denji walks on his knees to get to the open plot of space Aki presents to him. He stretches his arm high above his head, yawning — somehow, just that small effort stains his sight with bleary dots. It was the same when he was moving around the beds, but it's easy enough to blink away, so he does. ]
Can we still share beds in Tokyo? [ His hands tuck under the back of his head, neck rolling so he can try to make out Aki's expression in the dimmed room. ] I get you'll be out hittin' the town at night more often, but I can keep your bed warm for when ya get back.
[The joke about kissing was just that - a joke, jumping off Denji's misunderstanding around CPR. It didn't faze him and didn't mean anything to Aki. So when Denji mentions sharing beds in Tokyo - a place that's always meant "adulthood" in Aki's mind - he looks surprised, tilting his head to look down at him, see if he's kidding. But no, he even goes on, comments on Aki being out later. Keeping the bed warm for him.]
No, that's...
[He sets his head down, feeling his face grow warm. What had they talked about before...? Right before Aki got mad at him. He promised he'd always come home at night - that part. And then he'd been surprised that Aki was thinking about eventually having sex. But, does that connection not even occur to Denji? Probably not... Probably, given their relationship, he'd never even think of it as anything but platonic. But how would he explain it if that ever got out to someone else?]
[He can see it now. Trying to rise the ranks of Public Safety, talking to his future boss when, all of a sudden, Denji calls to ask him something inane and meaningless, and finishing off with, "'Kay, see you tonight! I'll keep you side of the bed warm!"]
[His face feels way too warm. Aki huffs out a breath and turns into Denji's hair. Almost nullifying the meaning of what he says next by essentially squeezing in closer.]
[ Virtually no separation between their limbs, warmth fans out from Aki's body, every blow from his nostrils tickling some part of his skin, the insistent licks of a flame. Like this, he's all the more aware of how cold his own arms and legs are in contrast, the goosebumps spreading all over him, up and down — it makes him want to nudge the icicle tip of his nose into Aki's cheek, express just how glacially he wants to keep him there, this young, frozen in ice. He wants to coil around Aki, put his hands under the narrow valley of his back, over his stomach, feel the heat of the moving organs beneath, but he — swallows. Can't let himself. Because their brothers, because Power could walk in any second and jump in, because he needs to — grow up. His arms stuff down the covers, hugging around his own torso. ]
…Was just a joke. [ Denji leans slightly away from him, focusing on their closed window blinds. The vague silhouettes of their neighbors returning to their apartment, soft laughter coming from outside. ] I wouldn't do that if you brought someone home… I'd be good.
[ He can imagine it: One night, watching a girl arrange her shoes next to Aki's in the entryway. Pretty, nice smile, dimples. The type to leave a good impression, no matter who she's meeting. She'd already have their names memorized, know to add a 'great and mighty' before Power's name. She'd come with personalized gifts for each of them. They'd have dinner, and the whole time he wouldn't be able to keep his eyes off them, the shared looks with her, keeping track of how many times his brother muffles a snort over some inside joke only the two of them know. They'd bump shoulders washing the dishes together. At the end, she'd tell Denji it's okay to call her 'big sis'.
He can imagine all that. What he can't imagine is how an adult Denji would behave, how he could easily and openly accept his brother being stolen from him without lingering too long by the door when Aki leaves to walk her home to the station. ]
But, uh, what… do I have to do? [ To become the person Aki wants him to be? ] — To be an adult? 'sides getting a job.
[That definitely wasn't a joke but Aki doesn't point that out. He doesn't comment on the idea of him bringing anyone home - honestly, he's never thought about it. They've have friends over, once or twice, and that wasn't anything special. But a... girlfriend?]
[He doesn't know how to respond to the question for a moment. There are a lot of ways he could tell Denji to become an adult. Make his own decisions, for one, but they have to be grounded in common sense, not Denji-sense. Go grocery shopping on his own without a list and don't come home with extraneous items. Those kinds of things. He's good at enough things like waking up on time, eating a full meal, and keeping himself clean, but...]
You just... need to make smarter choices.
[With his position, he can see Pochita over Denji's head, curled in a little ball but still with that ever-present chainsaw sticking out of his head. He wouldn't put today's episode in that pile of bad choices, no, but he does wonder how things could have changed if he'd simply gone back to the beach with him. Ugh, it's not a useful thought process and he's cried enough today. He reaches over Denji's body to grab the edge of the comforter and pull it in closer, wrap them both up tighter. Power is still in the common room, he can hear, but he's not keen on waiting up for her. He drapes his arm over Denji's side and presses his hand on the small of his back, searching for the sensation of his breathing. Denji has scooted away from him a little but the touch, purposeful or not, attempts to draw him back in close.]
And you will. Once you get more experience and stuff. I'm sure.
[ Is that what he's been doing when he's not hanging out with them?
Experience-gathering. Making smart choices like getting a job, forming ties with people his age, with the same interests, and sculpting his body into one that'll eventually but put in the line of fire as a member of Public Safety — going places where Denji can't play the part of his clingy shadow, always traveling in his orbit, trying to make a dent. Knowing where he's at, if he's safe. Does Aki really think Denji can achieve a similar day-to-day? A life in which he can accomplish things on his own, independent from him. It's always been easier to seek him out, rely on Aki's intuition rather than stretch the limits of his own and reap the repercussions of being wrong. Doing the wrong thing. Failing the wrong person. But if someone like Aki believes in him…
Denji's still thinking about that as the comforter curves, and he's rolled closer into his chest, the hand squished to his back earning Aki a shiver, then an annoyed hum. His cheek rubs into the pillow to weigh his gaze on him, the tips of his hair, splayed out up top, skim the miniature spears decorating Pochita's saw, but he doesn't mind it. When it comes to him, Denji knows he's safe. They made a promise. Even if Aki won't be there one day to look after him, Pochita will.
Aki may be skeptical, and he may have every right to be, Denji thinks to himself, brushing down a few stray antennas from Aki's fringe. But Pochita's a good devil. ]
You said there was a job I could do before… [ Said, whilst playing with Aki's hair. Parting his fringe down the middle. ] Do they let dogs come hang out?
[It comes back to him after a slow moment, the logging job he'd mentioned. How he'd thought that Denji could use Pochita for that - But now, after today, the entire concept is crazy to him. There's no way he'd let Denji go and do a job that dangerous, that strenuous. Even if he's just sawing logs into strips and not felling any trees, he has no desire to let him get into any kind of trouble. Definitely not after today.]
[But the memory of their last conversation when they were like this is still a little fresh. How their argument had begun, how their arguments tend to begin nowadays. Talk about the future, about what they expect of one another. His nose twitches when a stray strand of hair falls between his eyes as he tries to keep a neutral expression. He doesn't want this to get either of them riled up.]
Who knows... We're still on vacation, you know. ["Vacation" while Public Safety tries to locate a devil running amok, sure, but it's a vacation nonetheless.] Tomorrow I'm going to get some sweet potatoes to roast. You can help with the barbecue again.
[Distract him with something fun, yeah. Denji and Power can stoke the coals and wrap the potatoes in foil and Aki can watch them, mindful of any stray fingers getting too close to the grill. He closes his eyes but doesn't bat his hand away. If anything, the idea of tomorrow isn't solely an image to distract Denji, alone.]
[ Here he is trying to think seriously for once about the tenuous future in which they're able to be together, happily, without conflict, and Aki wants to talk about sweet potatoes…
Despite himself, he sighs out a low puff of air — relieved. Well, it's true, they won't be turning into adults anytime soon, even less likely in a single night, no matter how much they plan or anticipate what changes will arrive come graduation time. He still wants to talk about the job again, eventually, since that seems to be the clear first step his brother was hinting at for Denji to make his debut as an aspiring adult, or whatever. Besides, you know, getting a girlfriend.
…Huh.
Wordlessly, and without warning, Denji swiftly ducks his head down, disappearing below the covers — and tugs wide the bottom hem of Aki's shirt, swooping inside the opening, the topmost strands of his crown sprouting out from the collar. He's thin enough that he's able to do this without stretching the material out too much. Quietly, Denji's arms surround Aki's middle, sliding up the defined stroked of his back, just as he predicted that he would. Face turned against his sternum, he mumbles: ]
Since we're all on vacation, maybe we should invite your friends over from soccer. And that fortune-telling thing — you know, like that one girl who remembered my name.
[Even though a warning before he does stuff like this would be nice, Aki only groans lightly, unseriously, as Denji burrows his way beneath his shirt and pops his head out through his collar, the blond locks tickling his nose and making him tilt his head back. He doesn't push him off or do anything to make it seem like he dislikes this, but he puts up enough of a show of being annoyed, like he's simply allowing it to happen, like whenever Denji rubs himself all over his front or wraps himself under his coat. Things they both should have grown out of long ago but still haven't. Well - What else is new?]
The girl who... [He remembers her after a moment, having to dig back for who else was there that day.] Oh, her... I guess so. Ah, Denji, your fingers are cold. [He shivers once, turning his shoulder a little further away to give him more room.] Yeah, we can invite them... I'll send out some messages tomorrow morning. You can invite whoever, too.
[Not that he expects him to. Denji's always been an unusual sort with friendship. Clingy once he gets close enough, but slow to build that connection. Pair that with his outlandish behavior and that he looks and acts like a troublemaker, most kids stay away from him, until Aki comes around. He raises a hand to pat his head over his shirt.]
If your chest hurts, or it's hard to breathe... [He trails off, closing his eyes. He doesn't want an argument now, so he settles on,] Just make sure you're comfy.
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no subject
Denji gets the gist, though. Something bad has happened. People are hurt, and he's one of them. That's why Aki was crying again. Because he couldn't keep himself safe for less than an hour without him. He's so uncool. So —
He tries clambering up on to the foot the stretcher alone, but thinking he's tripping over that first step, the two first responders rush in to help, gripping him by the pits of his arms.
Weak. God, why is he such a weakling?
He knows his siblings are nearby, but he can't bear to look their way. It's embarrassing. Doesn't want them to see the pink glaze stinging his eyes, how his nose is dribbling. That's why it's a relief when the man who'd resuscitated him blocks his view, starts going through the same old motions and check-ups. They listen to his chest, his heart. Ask about his name, where he's from, his medical history, the usual stuff, the stuff he just did a few days ago at the clinic and now he's doing it all over again. When does it stop? Will it ever? Denji makes a disgusted, watery noise at himself. Blinks hard as he scrubs at his nose with the back of his wrist, but the act seems to worsen the clogged sensation in his lungs, crawling up his throat.
"You're okay," the man says, handing his partner the clipboard he was jottings notes down on. Seeming to sense his distress. "You're doing well. Breathe slow."
Denji's not okay. Denji's not doing well. Denji's sick of this shit.
Air blows past his lips, blue and still tasting of salt.
"She —" He juts a thumb toward the other paramedic who throws up a peace sign. He stares at her until the gesture drops. Denji watches the interaction, wary. "She's going to tell your siblings we'd like to monitor you for a few hours at the hospital. One moment."
His mouth snaps closed, ready to object. But the finger held out to his face is an easy indication to Denji to shut his trap.
"We'd like to, but we can't. With this incident, and the rise of other attacks recently, the hospital is fully occupied. You were lucky that yours is a case of non-fatal drowning. You don't exactly fit the cleanest bill of health, but you're awake and you're lucid. No memory issues. If you start experiencing trouble breathing or extreme migraines, we want you to come in and get checked, but I'm not concerned that'll be an issue. You're free to go whenever you're ready." ]
…'kay. Thanks. [ He glances in Aki and Power's direction, noticing the latter of the two on her feet, springing toward him. Aki probably isn't too far behind her. His head staggers down a notch in a quick bow of his neck. ] I mean, thank you very much, sir — urk.
[ Power hops into the back of the vehicle, squishing into his side, nearly pushing him off the stretcher with little care to Denji's own comfort. Body squirming from within her nuzzling, he darts a glance among the other faces there, searching for any form of aid. ]
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[It's difficult to get near the situation without feeling like he's intruding. Which is beyond stupid - He can see kids crying and their moms holding them in their laps, shushing them gently even when they aren't hurt. Maybe a scraped arm or a stubbed toe. Shouldn't Aki be right in there, too? Shouldn't they be part of this, not shoved off to one side, watching from a short but too far distance as Denji rubs at his face, his front still soaked with seawater...]
[He's gripping Power's hand so tightly that she finally says his name, snapping him out of it as one of the aides come their way, looking back at Denji briefly as if to double check this is the right group before she turns her attention to Aki. "We want to bring him to the hospital," she begins, and Aki immediately snaps, No. He knows he's gripping Power's hand too tight again but it's for a good reason. If she's so confident about snatching up one of them - ]
[But she's quick to put her hands up in a placating manner, explaining the dilemma, that the hospital is too full. That he seems okay, that he's breathing and isn't looking like he's on the verge of collapse. That his breathing seems a little rough and that they should monitor him, that if it gets worse they can bring him to the hospital. And is that okay? Despite her too cheery tone feeling uncanny in this situation it's actually working to calm Aki down, enough that he loosens his grip on Power's hand to the point that she can slip free and hurry over to Denji, tackling him into a tight hug with Aki calling her name pointlessly after her. He starts to follow but the paramedic stops him, a hand on his shoulder. "He's breathing a little rough, and his pulse is pretty high," she explains, looking over her shoulder at Denji just as his eyes meet theirs. "You'll bring him in just in case anything happens, right? He said you all live down south - You shouldn't travel if he's still in bad shape. Okay?"]
[Absolutely not, he wants to say, because the truth is that Aki wants to go home, now. He doesn't care about this trip or playing hookey or any of the myriad of reasons he finally agreed to this whole thing. The idea of taking Denji to some hospital in an area he doesn't know only for them to suddenly find something wrong with him and that means they have to keep him overnight and then the next night and then a week and then a month and then -]
["You okay?" she asks suddenly, reaching into her pocket and taking out a handkerchief. Fat, wet tears are spilling down his cheeks but Aki looks furious despite it, staring down at the ground with a fiercely knit brow and lips pulled so tight they may as well be gone. "We can - "]
Don't take him. [He mutters it, his voice on the edge of cracking on the last word. With the threat of more cracks following, he quiets for a moment, reaching up to wipe his face on the back of his hand, smearing a few grains of sand over his cheeks before daring to look at the woman again.] He's - We've got medicine. I'll take care of...
[...As if. He got dragged away before he could even get a foot near the water. All he has in his travel bag is some antiseptic and ibuprofen. None of that can help Denji, and if not for all the people around him right now, he wouldn't even be alive right now. Raising his eyes to look at Denji, still far enough away that he'd need three or four steps to reach him, he can't help but think - ]
[What can Aki even do, anyway?]
[He sits with the two of them on the opposite side of the street, the whole area still blocked off but the opposite side is where the shade is, where he tugs them both to with his hands outstretched and grasping each of theirs tight. Denji in between them, he doesn't say a word, only slowly rubbing his back up and down, repetetive and gentle, like he can somehow scoop all the unhealthy out of him, all the badness that's crawled inside him that's made him this way and coax it into one solid lump that he can tug out and leave him with only good, only health, only happiness. It isn't fair, he wants to insist. It isn't fair that he found a new family and things keep threatening to destroy this one, too, before he has any ability to protect it properly. It's just not fair - but it's not like any of this knowledge is new.]
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…All his life, he's had so much to answer for. This part, this solace eclipsed in Aki and Power's combined vitality, their infinite warmth, is just another log to the ledger. That time before with the devil, too, and every other time he's watched pain and fear scar Aki's face, every time Power had to walk slower when he knew she longed to run. Every time Denji knew it was his doing.
A sudden thought: Maybe it's not them buoying Denji, but Denji anchoring them. Dead weight. Holding them back from setting off, two sails bound for the horizon.
It's with that he tries to lean away from them. Straighten out of their little huddle, fingers clenching and unclenching to work the numbness out. He needs to. They need him to, or else they'd be there the rest of the day. ]
I'm okay, [ he says, mainly for Aki's benefit, since he's the one who needs the reassurance most. Even if he's the least likely to believe him. His voice may be hoarse, worn down, but it's level, because that's the part that matters most to his siblings, so he has to stick the landing, make it believable. Meanwhile, his heart thunders in double time. ] Geez, your eyes are runny… Powy, didn't we pack anything, in case he saw someone stub their toe and start bawling for 'em?
[ Power actually nods. Releases his arm in exchange for a nice pat to her head, her nose tilting every so slightly upwards in smugness as she dumps the contents of her bag out into her lap. A tissue lands in his hand, and Denji reaches his arm over, dabbing at the sandy particles stuck to his cheeks, folds its over with a quick pinch of his fingers to bring a clean canvas for Aki to achoo into. ]
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[He doesn't want to. Aki wants to turn his nose away and stick it up to the sky. The feeling of either of them caring for him will never not bring with it a feeling that it isn't right, that they're doing something incorrect by rubbing his shoulder or convincing him nothing is wrong. It's treating the symptom and not the cause. All the effort is going to the wrong spot. Denji scrubs at his face and then presents it for him to blow and a terrible thought barrels into him, that in another world, Denji wouldn't be here to ever do something like this again.]
[More wet, messy tears gather in his eyes and his lip quivers, pulling tight and causing his chin to wrinkle. It's not fair, he wants to insist, like saying it out loud will matter at all. It's not fair that Denji is like this, both sweet and clueless and stupid and understanding. He offers the tissue but all Aki can see through the cloud of tears is the way his fingers look pale and wrinkled from the water.]
...Just wanted-- ... [His voice cracks, and Aki's lips pull shut again, now pouting in embarrassment, frustration. He settles his chin onto his knees and then lowers his face into them, rubbing at his eyes against his bare skin. Into the valley of his legs, he finishes what he was going to say.] ...Just wanted you to have fun.
[He wanted things to be normal, for once. He wanted them to experience a vacation in a normal way, playing with other kids and getting to eat a ton of food and getting lost in a new city and falling asleep in starchy yukata in a hotel. But now - After all that, how can they even think about having fun?]
[He shouldn't have let him go in the water. He should have told him to come in with him. He should have stayed out with him. He should have stayed back home. He should have gone to the house with Taiyou.]
[A new crop of tears wet his eyes and he squeezes his legs together tight, the same thoughts barreling into him over and over. You should have gone with him. You should have stayed inside. You should have brought gloves outside in the first place. You should have kept walking when he threw that snowball at you. You should have told him you were happy that he was your brother. You should have done anything - But all you did was stand still.]
[There's a sound like a heavy wave crashing the shore, a few devil hunters calling for people to say back from the corpse, but Aki doesn't even look up, shivering and shaking as tears run down his cheeks. He wants to go home. He misses his mom and dad. He misses Taiyou. He misses his house, his neighborhood, his school, his bedroom. The little TV set he used to watch cartoons on in the morning while he ate breakfast. Even though he knows thinking back on all of this just makes it all worse, it crashes into him like a tidal wave, forcing each memory down his throat like water flooding his lungs. Is this how Denji felt, too? Or was it more peaceful than this? Did he stop thinking and just surrender? He doesn't want to know.]
[Reaching out one hand from its spot clasped around his legs, he blindly feels for him now, snatching for his hand and gripping it tight. He can feel the steady warmth of his palm like this and the way his fingers move in his grip and it's better than looking at him right now, a better assurance that he's alive. Aki squeezes and squeezes, stuck in those memories of normalcy with only that handhold tethering him to the reality where it's all gone.]
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But for as long as he's known him, Aki is inconsolable when he cries. Once the tears get going, the storm won't let up. Won't stop pouring down, pushing through the cracks in the sidewalks and roads, rising above sea level to pool together with the rest of the watery depths in the world. Too colossal to be known, to fully wrap his arms around. It's not fair. That they have to go through this every time — it's not fair. ]
It's…
[ It's not your fault, he could counter, resisting Aki's self-blame. None of it was your fault. If you were there, you would have gotten hurt. I wanted you to have fun, too. I wanted you to be safe and not hate this day. The water was so blue, did you see it? Did you get a chance to look? Did you?
His face ducks down just as Aki's hand clamps tight around his fingers, holds him fast and painfully tight, preciously, like a pearl being tucked away inside a cracked shell. But it's the reverse. What Aki is, what he means to them and to Denji. He's not the loach, not the substitute for a mother; he isn't simply a brother to him. He's the bossy kid that would always lecture Denji for using his hands to eat dinner, yet snuck him candy, even after brushing his teeth. The one who let him crawl into his bed after a bad nightmare. The boy who never turned him down if he begged him to play catch. That's the shape Aki takes for him, like when you look at the symmetrical crystals of a snowflake up close —
His shoulders hunch, eyes tensing to erect his own dam against the prickle threatening to spill over into a larger disaster. Except it's too late. Hot oil rushes into the sea, blotting out his vision, devastating the ecosystem. ]
It's okay. [ Stupid thing to say when his nose can't seem to unclog, his throat is sticky and throbbing, but someone has to. Has to make the wish, no matter if it grows up into a lie. ] You, me, Powy. We can come here again. [ His head shakes. A swift correction: ] We will. I wanna — with you. Nothin' bad's gonna happen to any of us next time… 'cause we'll be older. Grown-ups.
[ He hates himself for always charging into thoughtless promises and contracts, not knowing whether he'll be able to keep his end of the deal. But still, he seals it, gaze to the ground as he rests the back of Aki's knuckles against his heart and presses his lips to their bunched up hands, hardly discernible which appendage belongs to who. ]
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[Great, Aki thinks to himself, hearing the sound of Denji's nasally voice, the way it sounds when he's trying not to cry, too. Now he's gone and made Denji cry. It would amplify his guilt and despair and frustration if there was any room left to increase them - but when Denji mentions they'll be older, that they'll be grown-ups...]
[It's not the first time Denji has said something like it, no - they always argue about how things will or won't change when they get "older," when Denji doesn't have to listen to Aki's nagging or is old enough to decide, actually, ice cream is okay for dinner... But in a situation like this, where emotions are high, where Denji was almost lost to them, when it felt like he'd truly lose his family again - after all the times Denji has said that he won't grow up, that something will happen before that can happen successfully...]
[Stupid, he wants to snap. Stupid, idiot, dumbass. That he knows just what to say to make his waterworks get worse, that he knows that stupid, pointless hope is like a kryptonite to Aki's superego, the part of himself that tries desperately to keep everything in check and hold his head up high. The mere suggestion, from Denji of all people, that they'll come back here one day in the future when everything is settled, when Aki is a devil hunter, when Denji and Power have graduated, maybe Denji getting a job at a convenience store, Power writing cult hit after cult hit of her messed up and crazy fairy tales... That the future Aki keeps assuring them will happen will actually, truly, happen. It's all he wants.]
[That and killing the Gun.]
[Aki raises his head to look at him, face red and tear-streaked. His brow is knit and his lips pulled into a quiver, tight and full of wrinkles as he tries to keep it to a silent cry as always. Stupid. Stupid, dumbass Denji. He reaches around him, hooking his un-clenched arm around both him and Power and drawing them down into a tight hug. He's already forced them into this today, sure, but he thinks it's warranted. This reminder that, no matter what, they'll have a future to live out. Together.]
You dumbass. [His voice is shaky as he says it, without a lick of harshness. Even as noise echoes around them at the end of the devil attack, as Public Safety arrives to clean up the mess, he doesn't let them go, clinging tight and hard, like it will somehow seal the deal if he's strong enough. Which has always been his logic, so it's not out of character, no. But maybe that he actually lets the hope penetrate a little deeper is.]
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It doesn't settle well in his stomach and he wants to cough up every drop, but even so. He's just a passenger for the future Aki is setting course for. When his fortune ends and where he disembarks from them, who knows. Even so.
His grip on Aki's hand refuses to let up. The breaths of three kids intertwine together, as in a loom, bound in a triple-threaded knot. Beside them, Pochita sits apart, watching with his wide and alert eyes. Keenly aware of them in a way that doesn't suit any old dog off the street. ]
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Back in the shirt he arrived in, Denji hugs the bag Pochita is comfortable zipped inside — it's the one thing Aki permitted him to carry during they're morose journey back to the station. After Denji complains about starving, Power sighs, mumbles something about how even dictator witches must rule with some kindness, then with a big grin, she offers her arm out to him. Denji smacks her away.
A promise to stop by a convenience store on the way home gets made, and from there, the rest of the trip is silent. On the train ride, try as he would to stay awake, his head slowly dips into the window as he goes in and out of a dreamless void. It takes a harsh shake to his shoulder to get him to his feet at their stop. When they at last, reach their doorstep, it's late into the night and Meowy's there to greet them. Power dumps the bag of pre-prepared meals they snagged on their way back on the dining table before rushing at her beloved pet.
Normally, Denji would head straight for the grub (after all, he was the one who wanted to eat to begin with), but he makes a beeline toward the bathroom to get a bath running instead. Doesn't let Pochita trot in behind him or Aki to lend a hand. No matter where he touches himself, there's grimy salt embedded into his skin — he just needs a second to himself to scrub everything off. Coming out of the bathroom, he looks much better. ]
Aki… You busy?
[ But there's a scrunch to his mouth as he finds Aki, fingers rolled into the hemline of his shirt. Denji nervously glances around as he approaches, making sure it's just the two of them around. He drops his voice a register. ]
You know that, uh, guy before? The one that got me to wake up. [ Here, he visibly struggles to get the words out. His eyes stay affixed to the ground. ] That guy… kissed me, right?
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[It's a strange return home. The silence, usually only present after an argument, is painful to sit in but Aki has no plans to break it or lift it, even gently. He shakes Denji awake as they near their station, urging him quietly to his feet, offering to take the bag holding the devil, but as always it's a fool's errand with him. He can still see sand stuck to his skin in places, dirtying his hair. He can still see the way he lay there, Aki with no idea what to do, no idea if he was even going to survive in those next few moments. The realization that "saving" someone is as much reactionary as it is preventative. All his life he's focused on the latter as if it would all work out in the end. That he'd never have to worry about what to do in the moment if the moment simply never came.]
[He leaves Denji to wash himself and unpacks their things in the meantime, squatting down in their bedroom as Power eats in the living room and talks to Meowy about nothing. The devil is somewhere - he hasn't been paying any attention to it. So when Denji comes in, clean and warm and yet still full of the same anxiety, they're both alone, their beds folded up in the closet with the intention that they wouldn't be back until tomorrow morning. He looks up at him, his attention answer enough as to whether he's busy or not. Then sits in silence as he tells him the idiotic thing he's apparently been thinking about.]
[Aki lowers his gaze, pulling the duffel bag shut and folding it over on itself. He pushes the straps into the middle and manages to form it into a tight square that can be pushed into a storage box in the closet.]
No.
[A forthright answer that's both true and blunt in a way that could be cruel. He stares down at where the duffel bag was stored, at how easily it fit right back into its designated place. Nice and neat and out of the way. He reaches over and tugs the closet door shut, turning around to face Denji. His expression is steady, unwilling to get worked up by a stupid question.]
It's called CPR. He was blowing into your lungs. It's not...
[It's something Aki realized in that moment that he didn't know how to do. He knows how to bandage people up, understands the ideas behind blood flow and how to stop it. He didn't understand how that paramedic jumped into action, the rhythm with which he began pumping Denji's chest. The brief pauses as he leaned over him and blew breaths down his throat, tilting his chin far back that it made his thin throat puff up with each push of air. Those things were never in the home healthcare books he read. They always simply said, Call an ambulance if someone isn't breathing. Problem, response.]
[As the sort of kid to climb up the cabinets to get something he wants rather than deign to ask an adult, the sudden realization that the cure for such a thing was so physically simple, something he could learn if he simply tried...]
...If I'd have known how, I would have done it, myself.
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But then Aki goes and says what he says. Denji eyes him, puzzled by the proclamation. ]
You? But — you're my aniki. [ A slight laugh makes its way into his voice. He can tell Aki's joking. His sense of humor is so fudged. How is this guy ever going to get married? Denji creeps further into the room, kneeling beside the outlet where his phone is charging with the rest of his possessions. Tries to act real natural about checking his messages, even though a bunch of them are just marketing texts he's forgotten to unsubscribe from. ] I get that this CRP-thing is just what those rescue guys do to help people, but still… That's like some serious mouth-on-mouth action. You'd really go at it with another dude like that?
[ Aki doesn't always have to be the one to come to his rescue, but if he made that point, he'd get a tongue-lashing for sure. ]
It's probably better that a pro was there to handle things, anyway.
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[There's that word again - Denji only started saying it recently, didn't he? Aki would blame it on him watching yakuza movies or something like that, but both times he's heard it lately have been in these high-emotion situations. So... So, what does he mean by it?]
[For a moment, the desire to understand that competes with listening to what Denji says next. Would he go at it with another dude? His brow pulls taut, lips thinning out.]
It's not kissing. I already told you. Kissing isn't like that.
[And Aki has kissed before, after all. The girl who asked him to a festival a couple years back had hurriedly planted one on his lips after he walked her home - Until that moment, he thought it was a group outing, since a lot of their mutual friends had all gone together. Aki hadn't mentioned it to either Denji or Power but word got out before long through the gossip mill thanks to her telling everyone, to his chagrin. It also soured any chance of him dating her after that. But, because of that one, brief and chaste kiss on a chilly night when he was thinking about a hundred other things, he can assuredly confirm that the medic did not kiss Denji.]
I'll probably learn how to do stuff like that, eventually. And I'm not going to not help someone just because it's a guy.
[He pauses. Lets some of the tension bleed out of him, content with the way he shut down both of Denji's concerns. So he can now lean over and push his palm into his forehead - not quite a smack or a shove, just a somewhat punishing push.]
And quit calling me aniki. You sound like a troublemaker.
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It'd rubbed him wrong. There's always something more important to focus on, but sometimes what happens when you walk into a room and notice the furniture's been moved is that you can't stop remembering how your home used to look like. You can't stop fixating on the dark impressions left behind in the floor. He'd felt that way when Aki joked about getting laid, and it rubs him wrong now, picturing Aki rushing to someone else's aid, pushing into their chest, his arid breaths swathing that person's tongue and rushing to their lungs. Whether it's a kiss or not, he doesn't like it.
Witheringly — that's how Denji looks at Aki, the back of his head leaning into the wall. Unresisting the weight warming his forehead. ]
What's your problem?
[ Weakly sighed, though he doesn't bat the hand away. He can't really deny that he's troublemaker after today's events, or even after the events of the past few weeks. His face shifts away, the ends of his freshly shampooed hair poking out from the slits between his digits. ]
That's just what you are. There were guys like you who I grew up with. [ Guys, he says, but they were very much older men. Strong and muscled, irezumi engraved around healed over scars. Or sometimes the other way around; scars streaking through the elaborate ink canvasing someone's back, down their torso, over their thighs, wounding the illustrations, but never their fierce loyalty to the clan. There were some folks who liked beating Denji down, but some of them used to look out for him. Drag him back up on to his scrawny legs by the scruff of his collar, dust his head off after a tussle. ]
They looked out for folks, like you do. But I think they had a whole bunch'a other guys backing 'em up.
[ Denji purses his lips together, listening for either interjection or objection from Aki before continuing. ]
D'you think I can do that for you, too…? Help you helping people.
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[Aki isn't thrilled to be compared to dregs like the ones he imagines Denji was surrounded by before they came into each other's lives. Even from the beginning, he was disturbed by his logic threads and stories he'd tell about how those people behaved and treated him - missing fingers, tattoos peering over the collars of their shirts, chiseled physique built by punching man instead of devil. Aki has no desire to be anything like that, so when Denji asks if they can be like that, summarizes them down to simple folks who helped other folks, his instinct is to curl his lip.]
[But he keeps it flat. Doesn't remind him that he was rubbing shoulders with hoodlums at that age. It won't help in this moment - he can tell Denji's upset with this discussion, and Aki's response to it. He lets him ask that question and then lets the silence hang for a moment.]
I don't know.
[He doesn't know what that looks like. For one thing, he has no desire to let Denji anywhere near Public Safety, or even private devil hunting. Someone with his constitution could never survive even basic training. But he's already dug into him too much about that, already cried over all of that, so it's not worth sprinkling more salt on the wound, or aggravating the stuff that's already poured in deep. He settles back on the floor, staring across at him like trying to discern a puzzle. A role for Denji...]
...You know, there's not really a point to Public Safety if there's no public. [Though Denji will never accept the request to sit by the sidelines and watch - not forever, anyway. So he goes on.] If I was doing this by myself, without both of you, I might not care as much. Or I might have given up by now. But I want to keep living with you, and coming home like this. [He's never good at talking emotionally about this stuff. He rubs at his back with his knuckles, frowning.] I don't know what the best kind of role for you is, or if I want you to be "backing me up" in that kind of way. But I still want you to be there.
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He knows Aki is telling him that it's alright, he doesn't need do more than he already does, in so many words. But… ]
That's enough for you?
[ Denji sets his phone aside, face down. The floor creaks with the new redistribution of weight as he moves on his hands and knees, plopping down, sitting with his arm curled around Aki's elbow. Head rested on his shoulder, the rise and lowering of his shoulders rubbing against him as he releases a breath, full and unbroken. ]
I want us all to be like that, too. [ Rather, that's all he wants. The dinners, the kidding around, nights spend packed in front of the TV. Aki knows this, which is why he's telling him it's fine, he can keep doing what he's been doing. Still, Denji just wants him to remember: ] But, y'know, if there's anything that comes up — you could practice with me, the stuff you gotta work on. It'll be like all those times we helped you run lines for that play, yeah? I'll be more serious about it, since I know it'll be for your real big kid job. Hell, if you gotta learn CPR, CRP, and all that, I've already got experience!
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[Of course it's enough for him, Aki hears himself say, but the words never leave his lips. He doesn't want anything but that. He wants Denji and Power to live full lives, healthy and happy, doing what they want. It's a selfish desire because, to Aki, such a future isn't possible without the destruction of the Gun Devil. And that future can't happen without him going to Public Safety. And the best chance of getting there, of getting a shot at the Gun, is to go to Tokyo.]
[Like everything in his life, it all comes back to one devil.]
[Denji curls himself around his arm and settles against his shoulder and Aki sits still so he can, even tilts his head to the side until he's comfortable. He doesn't have it in him after everything that happened today to shut him down, but the promise to help him learn CPR gets a short, amused sound out of him. He raises his free hand to set on his head, carefully and gently straightening out his wet hair.]
I'll hold you to that, you know. You'd have to let me kiss you.
[Teasing, lighthearted. He won't tell him there's no chance he'll take him anywhere near that sort of world after today. That he would have been happier if someone else had died if it meant Denji hadn't been hurt. Yeah, if it had been like last time... Like last time, when that devil had killed that other student. Would he throw someone in the line of fire to protect one person? For Denji, yeah. For Power, yeah. And that's not right, he knows. He knows it's selfish and cruel, to weigh one life against another and instantly make a judgment. So he says nothing of it and simply keeps them out of the situation.]
You can sleep with me tonight, if you want. [There's a brief pause.] I won't get mad at you this time. [So long as you don't tell me I'm like your mom, he doesn't say.]
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Don't kick me out this time…
[ His nose turns in for one fast moment — it's hard to say if he's trying to scrub the image from behind his eyelids, or if he's just trying to find a way into Aki's skin, wedging himself underneath. Could be that he's caught between both compulsions. Sighing, he reluctantly pushes apart from his brother, hands rubbing at his sides. His fingers sure are cold. Is the heat really on? ]
I'll help rollin' the beds out.
[ He probably shouldn't be helping with anything, but he shoves aside that niggling feeling, sliding the closet wide open. Remembering that they would have been spending their night at a ryokan, had circumstances not soured, he sighs again while pulling one bedroll out, the sound stringing out of him long and uneven. Denji avoids exerting too much of his energy by simply scooting each futon out from the shelf where they're stored, letting them flop at his feet, making sure to shift back in time. With a bit of pulling and maneuvering, the beds are all wind up set in a row. ]
Pochita can have the third one all to himself tonight, [ Denji says, glancing Aki's way. More or less an excuse to search for his approval of his handiwork. ]
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[Aki notices it, even if he doesn't want to. Denji sounds weak. He sounds like he does after these episodes, and Aki has learned not to outright comment on it. He knows he'll get defensive or disagree or complain that Aki's being too pushy, too paranoid. That he's fine. He leans back on his knees to call out to Power, tell her it's time for bed. She shouts back that she'll be there soon, once whatever dark bidding she's doing has been accomplished. When he turns back and sees all three beds laid out, he's a little surprised - but when Denji says one is for the devil dog, he doesn't question it or comment.]
Put on some socks, so your feet stay warm. [Even with the chilly weather, he's still in a tee and long sweats. He has a feeling Denji is going to shove his hands under his shirt at some point in complaint about being cold... Well, it's worth it, if he can keep him close tonight. Monitor his breathing and wake up quickly if anything goes wrong.]
[When he pulls back the covers, he reaches out to find Denji's pillow to tug closer before patting the bedding for him to come in. The light, left on its dimmest setting so Power can still find her way in, casts an eerie glow in the room, more orange than yellow, dark corners darker than usual. He sets his head down and thinks aloud:]
In Tokyo, we can probably get full beds, off the floor and everything. It'll be warmer, and easier to clean... [Then trails off, the image cementing itself easily beside the many others he's voiced about their near future. Certain and detailed. It's calming, in a way.]
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Tonight, it's fine. Of course, he'd rather hear the contentedness in Aki's voice over his watery gasps, his strangled sobbing. His misery.
Shadow looming over the bulk of the room for a moment, Denji walks on his knees to get to the open plot of space Aki presents to him. He stretches his arm high above his head, yawning — somehow, just that small effort stains his sight with bleary dots. It was the same when he was moving around the beds, but it's easy enough to blink away, so he does. ]
Can we still share beds in Tokyo? [ His hands tuck under the back of his head, neck rolling so he can try to make out Aki's expression in the dimmed room. ] I get you'll be out hittin' the town at night more often, but I can keep your bed warm for when ya get back.
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[The joke about kissing was just that - a joke, jumping off Denji's misunderstanding around CPR. It didn't faze him and didn't mean anything to Aki. So when Denji mentions sharing beds in Tokyo - a place that's always meant "adulthood" in Aki's mind - he looks surprised, tilting his head to look down at him, see if he's kidding. But no, he even goes on, comments on Aki being out later. Keeping the bed warm for him.]
No, that's...
[He sets his head down, feeling his face grow warm. What had they talked about before...? Right before Aki got mad at him. He promised he'd always come home at night - that part. And then he'd been surprised that Aki was thinking about eventually having sex. But, does that connection not even occur to Denji? Probably not... Probably, given their relationship, he'd never even think of it as anything but platonic. But how would he explain it if that ever got out to someone else?]
[He can see it now. Trying to rise the ranks of Public Safety, talking to his future boss when, all of a sudden, Denji calls to ask him something inane and meaningless, and finishing off with, "'Kay, see you tonight! I'll keep you side of the bed warm!"]
[His face feels way too warm. Aki huffs out a breath and turns into Denji's hair. Almost nullifying the meaning of what he says next by essentially squeezing in closer.]
You'll have to grow out of it, eventually...
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…Was just a joke. [ Denji leans slightly away from him, focusing on their closed window blinds. The vague silhouettes of their neighbors returning to their apartment, soft laughter coming from outside. ] I wouldn't do that if you brought someone home… I'd be good.
[ He can imagine it: One night, watching a girl arrange her shoes next to Aki's in the entryway. Pretty, nice smile, dimples. The type to leave a good impression, no matter who she's meeting. She'd already have their names memorized, know to add a 'great and mighty' before Power's name. She'd come with personalized gifts for each of them. They'd have dinner, and the whole time he wouldn't be able to keep his eyes off them, the shared looks with her, keeping track of how many times his brother muffles a snort over some inside joke only the two of them know. They'd bump shoulders washing the dishes together. At the end, she'd tell Denji it's okay to call her 'big sis'.
He can imagine all that. What he can't imagine is how an adult Denji would behave, how he could easily and openly accept his brother being stolen from him without lingering too long by the door when Aki leaves to walk her home to the station. ]
But, uh, what… do I have to do? [ To become the person Aki wants him to be? ] — To be an adult? 'sides getting a job.
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[That definitely wasn't a joke but Aki doesn't point that out. He doesn't comment on the idea of him bringing anyone home - honestly, he's never thought about it. They've have friends over, once or twice, and that wasn't anything special. But a... girlfriend?]
[He doesn't know how to respond to the question for a moment. There are a lot of ways he could tell Denji to become an adult. Make his own decisions, for one, but they have to be grounded in common sense, not Denji-sense. Go grocery shopping on his own without a list and don't come home with extraneous items. Those kinds of things. He's good at enough things like waking up on time, eating a full meal, and keeping himself clean, but...]
You just... need to make smarter choices.
[With his position, he can see Pochita over Denji's head, curled in a little ball but still with that ever-present chainsaw sticking out of his head. He wouldn't put today's episode in that pile of bad choices, no, but he does wonder how things could have changed if he'd simply gone back to the beach with him. Ugh, it's not a useful thought process and he's cried enough today. He reaches over Denji's body to grab the edge of the comforter and pull it in closer, wrap them both up tighter. Power is still in the common room, he can hear, but he's not keen on waiting up for her. He drapes his arm over Denji's side and presses his hand on the small of his back, searching for the sensation of his breathing. Denji has scooted away from him a little but the touch, purposeful or not, attempts to draw him back in close.]
And you will. Once you get more experience and stuff. I'm sure.
[He's like... half sure.]
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[ Is that what he's been doing when he's not hanging out with them?
Experience-gathering. Making smart choices like getting a job, forming ties with people his age, with the same interests, and sculpting his body into one that'll eventually but put in the line of fire as a member of Public Safety — going places where Denji can't play the part of his clingy shadow, always traveling in his orbit, trying to make a dent. Knowing where he's at, if he's safe. Does Aki really think Denji can achieve a similar day-to-day? A life in which he can accomplish things on his own, independent from him. It's always been easier to seek him out, rely on Aki's intuition rather than stretch the limits of his own and reap the repercussions of being wrong. Doing the wrong thing. Failing the wrong person. But if someone like Aki believes in him…
Denji's still thinking about that as the comforter curves, and he's rolled closer into his chest, the hand squished to his back earning Aki a shiver, then an annoyed hum. His cheek rubs into the pillow to weigh his gaze on him, the tips of his hair, splayed out up top, skim the miniature spears decorating Pochita's saw, but he doesn't mind it. When it comes to him, Denji knows he's safe. They made a promise. Even if Aki won't be there one day to look after him, Pochita will.
Aki may be skeptical, and he may have every right to be, Denji thinks to himself, brushing down a few stray antennas from Aki's fringe. But Pochita's a good devil. ]
You said there was a job I could do before… [ Said, whilst playing with Aki's hair. Parting his fringe down the middle. ] Do they let dogs come hang out?
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[The job he'd said before...]
[It comes back to him after a slow moment, the logging job he'd mentioned. How he'd thought that Denji could use Pochita for that - But now, after today, the entire concept is crazy to him. There's no way he'd let Denji go and do a job that dangerous, that strenuous. Even if he's just sawing logs into strips and not felling any trees, he has no desire to let him get into any kind of trouble. Definitely not after today.]
[But the memory of their last conversation when they were like this is still a little fresh. How their argument had begun, how their arguments tend to begin nowadays. Talk about the future, about what they expect of one another. His nose twitches when a stray strand of hair falls between his eyes as he tries to keep a neutral expression. He doesn't want this to get either of them riled up.]
Who knows... We're still on vacation, you know. ["Vacation" while Public Safety tries to locate a devil running amok, sure, but it's a vacation nonetheless.] Tomorrow I'm going to get some sweet potatoes to roast. You can help with the barbecue again.
[Distract him with something fun, yeah. Denji and Power can stoke the coals and wrap the potatoes in foil and Aki can watch them, mindful of any stray fingers getting too close to the grill. He closes his eyes but doesn't bat his hand away. If anything, the idea of tomorrow isn't solely an image to distract Denji, alone.]
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Despite himself, he sighs out a low puff of air — relieved. Well, it's true, they won't be turning into adults anytime soon, even less likely in a single night, no matter how much they plan or anticipate what changes will arrive come graduation time. He still wants to talk about the job again, eventually, since that seems to be the clear first step his brother was hinting at for Denji to make his debut as an aspiring adult, or whatever. Besides, you know, getting a girlfriend.
…Huh.
Wordlessly, and without warning, Denji swiftly ducks his head down, disappearing below the covers — and tugs wide the bottom hem of Aki's shirt, swooping inside the opening, the topmost strands of his crown sprouting out from the collar. He's thin enough that he's able to do this without stretching the material out too much. Quietly, Denji's arms surround Aki's middle, sliding up the defined stroked of his back, just as he predicted that he would. Face turned against his sternum, he mumbles: ]
Since we're all on vacation, maybe we should invite your friends over from soccer. And that fortune-telling thing — you know, like that one girl who remembered my name.
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[Even though a warning before he does stuff like this would be nice, Aki only groans lightly, unseriously, as Denji burrows his way beneath his shirt and pops his head out through his collar, the blond locks tickling his nose and making him tilt his head back. He doesn't push him off or do anything to make it seem like he dislikes this, but he puts up enough of a show of being annoyed, like he's simply allowing it to happen, like whenever Denji rubs himself all over his front or wraps himself under his coat. Things they both should have grown out of long ago but still haven't. Well - What else is new?]
The girl who... [He remembers her after a moment, having to dig back for who else was there that day.] Oh, her... I guess so. Ah, Denji, your fingers are cold. [He shivers once, turning his shoulder a little further away to give him more room.] Yeah, we can invite them... I'll send out some messages tomorrow morning. You can invite whoever, too.
[Not that he expects him to. Denji's always been an unusual sort with friendship. Clingy once he gets close enough, but slow to build that connection. Pair that with his outlandish behavior and that he looks and acts like a troublemaker, most kids stay away from him, until Aki comes around. He raises a hand to pat his head over his shirt.]
If your chest hurts, or it's hard to breathe... [He trails off, closing his eyes. He doesn't want an argument now, so he settles on,] Just make sure you're comfy.
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(no subject)
1/2
2/2
(no subject)
1/3
2/3
3/3
1/2
2/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/3
2/3
3/3
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/3
2/3
3/3
(no subject)