Archive of Our Own ^beta

Pressing into the fabric of his pants, Aki’s hands circle around his thigh, making lazy, mindless circles that Angel cannot help but stare at. Well kept cuticles and cut fingernails remain his sole focus as they discuss the intimate details of Aki’s impending death. 

Angel wishes he could look at his face. His eyes. Wishes he could bear the weight of that metaled cobalt gaze. Though he’s seen it many times before, spent hours questioning his own intentions for finding a rather normal pair of human eyes as fascinating as he did, Angel refuses to look now. If he does, he may begin thinking earthly things. Carnal things.

Nevertheless, Angel redirects his scant energy towards Aki’s scarred knuckles as he finishes telling his fatal tale. 

“I see…” Angel exhales, not really processing the information. He cannot conceptualize Aki dying. Rather, he won’t. It’s a dark, twisting path Angel is certain will melt away the locked iceboxes he categorizes humans into. “So Chainsaw-kun will murder you and the Blood Fiend in a future that can’t be changed…”

Aki nods. His hand slides further up, sticking to the fabric. His palms must be sweaty. He must be nervous. And though death had visited them many times before, stayed longer than welcome and greeted all of their colleagues, Angel still didn’t know what was enough to make a man sweat. 

“What do you expect me to do?” Angel asks, voice perhaps a bit harsher than he’d like. “Gonna ask me to stop him without my arms?”

“No. I came here to tell you what will happen after I die.”

At last, Angel seeks his gaze. Thick, heavy bags droop underneath his eyes as an invisible hook pulls his lips into a deep frown. A wrinkle between his brows serves as the only sign of aging. The simple fact is that Hayakawa Aki will not have the privilege to grow crows feet and smile lines. He will not age past 24, if he even survives long enough to reach that two-year mark. He will not grow old like humans should. Neither will Angel, but at least Aki once possessed the potential to. Potential stolen by fate or future or death or just plain cruelty.  

But a clock ticks, ticks, ticks, counting down their minimal seconds together and Angel now cannot look away from the trainwreck of a man sitting before him. Hand grasped in fabric, the other missing from existence, Aki remains stalwart and certain of a death he cannot escape. 

“After you die...” Angel repeats, carefully.

Aki’s face does not change. He’s finally accepting the inevitable. 

“Devil hunters without both arms are advised to resign,” Aki explains like he’s reading the newspaper aloud or searching for an item on a menu. It holds no weight, no sway. Angel doubts he even realizes what he’s saying when he continues, “but since you’re a devil, the worst case for you is that you’ll be disposed of.”

Again, Angel cannot conceptualize that kind of death. He used to. Often. Death meant peace. No work. An existence where there weren’t devil hunters and contracts and tasks to complete. Life is a lot simpler in death. At one point, Angel was ready to accept when his time was up.

He cannot say the same now. Though he does not regard his existence with any amount of importance, he stil ldoes not envision the day when he is… disposed of. What a waste that would be, given a boy with no time to spare sacrificed two months of his own to allow Angel to live a little while longer.

An idiotic move, sure, but Angel’s obsession with the hand that grabbed his own remains persistent, even as that same hand removes a letter from his coat pocket and places it on the nightstand. 

“Now I’m not certain if this will work,” Aki says, “but if it comes to that, have this envelope opened.”

Angel squints at the foreign white paper. “What is it?”

“A letter of recommendation from Captain Kishibe and I,” Aki explains, leaning back in his chair. “With this, you have a chance at becoming one of the devils that Public Safety hunters make contracts with, like Fox or Future.”

The thought only rests for a moment as Angel considers making a contract with some poor Devil Hunter who seeks power and destruction. Weapons crafted from human lives are nightmarish creations that, in all actuality, no one should wield. 

And what would Angel even receive in return for allowing some poor soul to carry his sins? Blood? Skin? Body parts he merely consumes to keep himself alive?

No, Angel would rather die than forge a contract with someone terrified to even come near him lest the graze of barren skin take away days or weeks from their otherwise meaningless lives. He sees how humans loathe him. He watched as they don gloves and masks to protect themselves as if Angel is riddled with some incurable disease.

Humans, of course, except for Aki who sits mere feet away and shows no signs of fear. Aki, who touched him, in a suicidal craze or otherwise, but makes no regrets about the action. Aki, who has gone well out of his way for Angel again and again.

Aki, who wants Angel to live. 

“That’s nice of you,” Angel says as he attempts to read Aki’s otherwise fallen face. It is a kind gesture, after all. But Angel still cannot fathom why a man would extend kindness towards a devil. They don’t deserve such niceties.

Angel shifts his gaze towards the ceiling and watches as the fluorescent light in the corner of the room continues to flicker. It’s done so for the last few days and even despite some mild protests, no one has come to fix it. It’s annoying. At this point, Angel would fix it on his own if he could. But the Darkness Devil stole more from him than just arms. Rather, there’s a type of freedom that’s been stolen from his bare hands, or lack thereof. 

“You know,” Angel begins, watching Aki from the corner of his eye, “I heard from my caretaker that out of all of Public Safety, it’s Hayakawa Aki who hates devils the most.” 

Aki shifts uncomfortably in his chair. Right now, the last thing on his face is hatred or anger. Grief and somberness hang in the air like a putrid odor, filling the crevices of Angel’s otherwise stagnant room. The flickering fluorescent lights cast both of them in a sickly green, but even so Aki remains blue. Bluer than those captivating eyes. Bluer than the tidal wave of emotions that strikes Angel as he simply looks at the man sitting before him. Malice that once laced itself through Aki’s every word and action has faded into obscurity, leaving in its stead only palpable despair. 

Angel pauses for a brief moment to regain his breath. “I guess the rumors aren’t true.”

Aki stands, his chair scraping against the linoleum tiles and disrupting the otherwise stillness of the room. Angel looks at him. His stance. His loose jacket arm. Aren’t they a couple of freaks?

“I’m going to meet the Gun Devil the day after tomorrow,” Aki announces. “This might be the last time we see each other. So—”

“Wait.”

Angel sits up, surprised by his own voice lurching out and keeping Aki in place. He cannot restrain him with his arms, but Aki stays regardless with the first emotions peeking through his marbled expression. 

“Sometimes,” Angel begins, struggling against  every single part of himself that screams, don’t do this. Don’t open up. Don’t tell him anything. It’ll only be worse when he leaves. And though there’s some truth in that, there also remains the deathly vision of a future where cobalt eyes shout for mercy with the other villagers and victims Angel has murdered in his time. He sees it so clearly, too. Angel can’t cause that pain.  

“The humans my power killed and turned into weapons show up in my dreams,” Angel admits. “...and they blame me for doing it. If I just let you die, I have this feeling you’ll start haunting my dreams too.”

Aki takes a breath. Angel pinches his brows together, summoning all he can to continue. 

“I want to do everything I can to help you stay alive,” Angel says at last, rushing through the words as if that would make their weight any easier to carry. Devils are not created to care or worry; humans bear that burden, and Aki is more human than most. So though it goes against the wish of his creator and every other aspect of his essence, Angel remains firm on trying to help him. 

“We should bring this to Makima together,” Angel suggests. “ She might know a way to avoid your death.”

Aki nods. “Okay,” he says, gratitude the only word really to describe the softened expression that comes over him. “We’ll go first thing in the morning tomorrow.”

“Yeah? And what are you doing today?”

“I think,” Aki shifts his weight, fingers idly thumbing over one of the buttons on his jacket, “I think I want a normal day. A last one. I… I didn’t get that before. When the Gun Devil killed my family. And who knows when I’ll get killed?” 

“You could have hundreds more normal days if you ran away,” Angel says as a last resort. 

Aki shakes his head. “It’s too late for that.”

Angel looks down again. He wants something to fidget with. Something to take him away from the intimacy of Aki’s gaze. “What do you have planned?” he asks without much reason. He should have no interest of Aki’s life outside the confines of the Public Safety headquarters, and yet there’s so much to be discovered about the man Angel’s been haphazardly referring to as his ‘buddy’ as if that could begin to describe the myriad of words and expressions threatening to leap off his tongue when he so much as thinks about Aki. 

“I’m not sure to be honest,” Aki admits.

Nodding, Angel lets himself bite the bullet, knowing that ultimately his statement is a death sentence. “Can I come with you?”

---

Aki does not own gloves. 

He should. The thought has crossed him before. Many times, actually. Mostly after the typhoon devil. Mostly after he reached out and had his first touch of fatal flesh. 

Back then, two months was eternal. It was everything . It was time he’d never recover, things he’d never do, a tenth of the small world that Future promised. 

Now, two months is a fever dream. Some place he cannot reach as the mere thought of it slips through his fingertips, completely out of his control. Aki doesn’t know if he’ll live until tomorrow, let alone fulfill the sentence provided by the Curse Devil. 

So, really, he doesn’t worry about brushing against Angel’s skin for a second or two. Won’t change much in the grand scheme of things. 

Angel, evidently, doesn’t feel the same way. Each close encounter forces a flinch that Aki tries not to take personally. Peeling away the layers of the hospital gown reveals more scars than either of them anticipates. Aki would be an idiot if he didn’t notice Angel’s body. Wanton desires have never led him before, but perhaps a change is due as Aki steals looks in ways that are hardly buddy-like. 

Angel shivers as his small, pale frame comes into light. Small, but not frail. Never frail. There’s a quiet strength in the way Angel holds himself. Though he attempts to hide it with slouched shoulders and nonexistent eye contact, Aki cannot deny the reluctant tenacity in his every word and movement. 

Without words, Aki helps him dress, despite the hassle of only one arm between them. Angel doesn’t help much. He barely even shifts as Aki works around him. Refusing to meet eyes, Angel allows Aki to do as he pleases and all without the gloves to make the actions safe in any way. 

“I know one way you can avoid being killed by Chainsaw-kun,” Angel begins as Aki begins the laborious task of buttoning his shirt. 

“What is it?” Aki asks, voice a bit too urgent as he meets Angel’s gaze. 

Angel, without much emotion or conviction, simply says, “Quit Public Safety and run far, far away from here.”

Aki stops for a moment, letting the words sink in. Immediately, his eyes go towards the strand of Angel’s hair caught along his nose. He can’t brush it away, nor does he seem to notice it’s there. Aki wants to tuck the strand behind his ear out of kindness if something else.

Although, even kindness seems bleak right now. Everything is bleak. 

Aki can seldom remember a time where his heart hung so heavily. Where he could physically grasp impending doom as granules of life, of time, of everything he held dear slipped away from him. The future lives in Aki’s right eye, showing visions of death and destruction, but he still didn’t know what to make of his final days. 

It’s terrifying. 

Yet, Aki’s hands are bound with contracts and responsibilities beyond his control or comprehension. Obligated by some ineffable commitment to see the job through. Some unknown desire to protect Denji and Power. Everything he does is for them. They deserve a good life, and Aki would give it to them, no matter what it takes. 

But the impending fight with the Gun Devil is not a solution. It’s a call to war. 

So, really, how is Aki supposed to leave it all now?

Angel continues, not bothered by unruly hair or anything else. “And if Chainsaw-kun comes chasing, just run to the other side of the world,” he says with a bit of urgency laced in his tone. He’s not very persuasive, but he’s trying. And Aki still listens, trapped by the notion of it all, as Angel finishes, “I mean you have both your legs, so you could do it.”

Releasing a breath, Aki nods along. Returning to buttoning Angel’s shirt, Aki focuses his energy towards getting him dressed. He hums in response. 

“I’m not joking,” Angel insists. 

Aki gnaws on the inside of his cheek. 

“I mean it.,” Angel pushes.  “Seriously. Unlike me, you can go anywhere you please. It’d be nice to get a normal job and live a normal life.”

Aki tries to imagine it. They could settle down in a paper town, somewhere that doesn’t actually exist because that’s the only place that would take them in. A countryside, backroad place with a big porch where Aki could drink his coffee in the morning. Wide open fields as far as the eye can see with plenty of room to live and grow. An idyll life. 

The issue comes from the fact that Aki cannot envision that future alone. Voices need to fill that empty house as Denji and Power would quickly make it their home, too. Laughter and stupidity serve as the groundwork for their conversations, but Aki wouldn’t want it any other way. 

And, if he looks hard enough, he sees Angel there too. 

Laying out in the fields, flowers tickling their skin, Angel looks radiant without any stress weighing on him. He smiles, putting the sun out of business. 

It’s everything. It’s infinite. And it’s horribly, terribly unreal. 

A normal job and normal life are mere facades for the truth that he’ll die in only a handful of months from now. And was there really any point in fulfilling some terminal desire with the Gun Devil at large and Public Safety breathing down their neck?

“I’m good,” Aki says at last. “Here, I have Denji, Power and Makima-san…”

Angel sits back a little bit. “Makima?”

Aki nods. 

“Oh…you like Makima, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Angel presses his lips together. “Why’d you start liking her?”

“Because…” Aki stops. The answer slips from his tongue, gone before he can even conceptualize it. 

He can speak of the day he met Makima, her kind smile and soft words a comfort to a child wrecked by war and revenge. Now though, as he thinks about his latest interactions with her, he cannot envision her grace or poise. Rather, Aki can only see the distance between them. The walls she’s constructed to keep him and Denji and every other member of the Special Division at arms length. In fact, Aki can hardly recall a time where that distance didn’t exist. Sure, she’s their supervisor and that kind of behavior should be normal… but it’s strange nonetheless. Her power and strength only separates them. There was little to connect them in the first place he supposes. 

Aki shakes his head and lets Makima fall away from his mind altogether. She’s not here right now. Angel is.

He’s always been there. 

Aki finishes dressing Angel, leaving his shoes a loosely cobbled mess and his tie a forgone formality considering one arm leaves too much room for error. Angel doesn’t seem to mind and none of the other officers make a comment as they leave. 

Signing out Angel for the day is routine at this point, but Aki leaves the time of return blank. He can’t find it within himself to limit their interactions, and the officer checking over the paperwork doesn’t even give the form a second glance. 

After that they’re off, facing the world one step at a time. And though Angel complains most of the day, constantly reminding Aki how tired and hungry he is, even that has some normality that Aki has long sought after. It’s nice, in the oddest of ways. 

He does treat Angel to some ice cream, learning very quickly the best ways to feed it to him without a mess. Angel follows along with Aki’s whims otherwise, coming with him to relax in the park and see the little ducks in the pond. 

This, too, is nice in a strange way. Really nice. 

---

Angel doesn’t quite understand the minds of humans. Aki especially. He follows along though with draggin feet as they wander around the city. It remains a mystery what Aki does on his days off, but if it's anything like the excursions they had today, the bags under his eyes and the tired gait only makes more sense. 

Still, Angel waits for the moment this will stop. The sentence must come to an end at some point; there’s no use in delaying the inevitable when it’s clear Aki will toss him aside and move on, driven by revenge and vindication and other useless trials that will only cause more pain when the effort is no longer valiant, when the war isn’t won with a quick battle, when the sentence finally comes to an end… unless it doesn’t; unless something ridiculous keeps it going; unless Aki keeps looking at Angel out of the corner of his eye, pretending they don’t make eye contact every single time it happens, that something electrical and physical passes between each minor connection, pretending this isn’t leading to something devious and vile because in that case,  Angel will only prolong this certainty of Aki’s impending death—the certainty that their time together will draw to a close, the certainty that a chainsaw will rip Aki to shreds and there will be nothing left for Angel—because even if they hold on to these present moments and make the most of what they’re given, at one point or another something will change and Angel won’t know what to do anymore if his life suddenly—

“You alright?” Aki asks, disrupting Angel’s endless rumination. 

“I’m tired,” he complains, shifting around in his uniform.

“Okay,” Aki says, “I just need to run to the store real quick to grab a few more things for dinner.” 

Angel raises an eyebrow. “I’m coming home with you for dinner?” 

Aki freezes, panic stopping him dead in his tracks. It’s kind of endearing how the simple sentence strikes him wholeheartedly, while even the most dangerous of threats wouldn’t make him pause for mere milliseconds. 

Nevertheless, Aki softly asks, “Did you not want to?” 

“No, that’s fine,” Angel hums. “Surprising, but fine.” 

Aki sticks his hand in his pocket. “I could drop you back off at Public Safety if you’d really like, but I figured a home-cooked meal would probably do you some good.” 

“Yeah,” Angel agrees and Aki nods in response. 

Although, if Angel watches close enough, he can notice the small ways in which Aki relaxes. His shoulders drop just a bit, and his expression loosens from its usual pinched, contorted nature to reveal a sort of peaceful side so rarely seen. 

Angel simply watches on, the taste of ice cream still lingering on his tongue as they go into the grocery market and begin picking out vegetables for dinner. There’s nothing more normal than going to a grocery store and listening to the outdated city pop blast over outdated PA systems. To the humans, at least. For Angel, it’s a wildly new experience that he merely absorbs as he stands at Aki’s side as he scans over the produce. 

“Why’d you choose that one?” Angel asks, not particularly interested in the science behind cabbages but bored otherwise. 

Aki picks up a head and shows it off. “It has all these blemishes on the outer leaves.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Yes.” Aki looks to him, eyes quickly searching over him until the strangest shade of red begins to dot his ears. “It doesn’t mean the inside is always bad, though,” he adds hastily. “I mean, with cabbages, yes, usually, but not always. It’s ah… I’m going to get this one.”

He grabs another and heads down the aisle, Angel falling behind him with a small smirk.

They end their shopping soon after and begin the trek back to the Hayakawa residence. Before Aki opens the door, Angel knows he’s trespassing. The home is the conglomeration of different energies to form a sacred space for only those who occupy it. Even as a visitor, there’s something invasive about his presence. 

Aki apologizes for Denji and Power’s behaviors beforehand, but it's truly worthless to prepare him for the two as they bombard him with questions and wild eyes and loud voices. Aki pushes them away, forces them to calm down, but it's little against Denji’s new found desire to interrogate him through some idiotic video game. 

Angel watches him play for a while, not really interested in the colorful shapes on screen, but he does manage to throw in a general comment every now and again to keep Denji going. In all honesty, he slips away into a light sleep, the whirring of the aircon and the sounds of cooking proving a worthy white noise to comfort him despite the novel climate. After all, Aki created this home too. If there was somewhere Angel could begin to relax, it would be a place Aki built. 

---

Power swings her legs from the cabinet, not bothering to avoid kicking Aki’s side as he satuees some vegetables. She gnaws on a piece of raw meat, the only thing she’ll willingly do when she’s assigned to help make dinner. 

Looking at Angel asleep in the living room, Power lets out a hmph before focusing back on Aki. “You have brought a devil here,” she states, not even bothering to question it and skipping all the way to blunt accusations. 

“Yeah,” Aki says. “Is that a problem?”

“A devil,” she repeats.

Aki sets down his spatula. “You do realize that you’re a fiend and Denji is some hybrid creature, right?”

“Exactly. We are not devils. I would like to keep it that way.”

Aki rolls his eyes and adds the meat Power’s been so valiantly protecting into the main pot. She lets him grab it away, but keeps her eyes firm on Aki as he adds spices and aromatics. 

“The Angel Devil,” Power begins, “is seldom the type to endorse humans. I am surprised you even brought him to this abode.”

Aki shrugs. “Well. Shouldn’t you know how awful it is to only live in Public Safety?”

“Are you suggesting he moves in? Where would he even reside?”

“He’s not moving in,” Aki insists, perhaps a little more defensive than he ought to be. 

Power raises a suspicious brow. “Oh? Why are you perspiring then?”

“What?”

Power leans in closer, those devilish eyes of hers going dark. “Your perspiration levels increased. I can smell it. You have been acting strange the moment you walked in the door, which means you are hiding something. As the greatest detective in the world, I have deduced that you and the angel devil are quite involved with one another. Could it be that you actually—”

Pushing away her face, Aki can physically feel the heat climb up his neck and to the tops of his ears. It’s a rather embarrassing sight, one that causes Power to cackle and Denji to call for her to shut up from the living room. She doesn’t cease, instead quite literally falling to the ground as she clutches her stomach from the overbearing laughs. 

“I cannot believe it!” Power shrieks. “You! And the devil! Together! How foolish you are for falling—”

Aki crouches to the ground, shoving a hand over Power’s mouth to quit her endless yapping. 

“Shut up you fiend,” he hisses, hoping their conversation is buffered by the cabinets. At the very least, he hopes Angel is a heavy sleeper. 

Like the she child she is, Power licks his palm in a petty act of rebellion. Aki yanks his hand away, wiping the spit on her arm in his own lame retribution. Power manages to calm down a bit, eventually rolling over to lay flat on the cool kitchen tiles. She snorts. Aki rolls his eyes. 

“You have entered quite a strange world, Topknot,” Power giggles, baring her sharp teeth at Aki in a cheeky smile. “I refuse to allow another to reside in our home, however. It would get too cramped for Nyako.”

As if on cue, Nyako meows from the living room and they both poke their heads over the counters to see the commotion. She simply stares up at Angel before settling down in his lap. At last, he awakes, sending Aki a panicked look with eyes begging for mercy, but Power’s already on it. 

“You traitor!” she screams from across the room. “After all I have done for you! Why must you retreat to the enemy?”

Nyako meows again in response, and Angel can’t even respond before Denji calls for him to keep watching the game.

The whole interaction strikes Aki as rather domestic. The way Angel goes along with Denji’s dumb demands. How Nyako cuddles up to him, no fear about life spans or touches. Hell, even just the way Angel seeks out Aki’s gaze every now and again, soft eyes and hidden smiles dotting a silent conversation as if they’re both saying, this is nice. Because it is. It really is.

“Aha!” Power screeches. “There!” She slaps at Aki’s face until he manages to pry away from her violent hands. 

“Power, what the fuck is going on with you today?” Aki shouts back. 

“What is wrong with me? What is wrong with you! You are smiling! I am not used to such a wretched sight!”

Aki shakes his head. “Just shut up. I’m not talking about this anymore."

Power stands for a moment, pouting, until she rolls up her sleeves and grabs the spatula from Aki. “I still do not understand his purpose,” she grumbles

“Yeah? And what’s your purpose?”

“It is quite simple,” Power says, pushing up glasses that aren’t even there. “I will become president of the whole world.”

“Can’t wait to see how that’ll turn out for you,” Aki mumbles as he checks on the rice. 

Power stirs the curry around a little bit more, lips curling together. “The devil accompanied us in Hell… correct?” 

Aki closes the lid of the rice maker. “Yeah. He was there.”

“And he helped to defeat the Darkness Devil?”

Aki tries not to think about the blood pouring from Angel’s eyes and mouth. He tries not to think about their limbs ripped away as if they were dolls built only to be broken by their creator. He even tries to not think about the horrible way Angel looked for him, looked for a solution, even in their bleakest of moments. With Power near death and Denji fighting on his last breath… Aki was paralyzed with the mere thought that he’d caused so much death and destruction once again. That he lost once again. 

And poor Angel had to witness the whole thing as he nearly allowed the abyss to swallow them both whole. 

Yet Angel held no animosity towards his indecision and frailty. Why?

Aki can’t begin to describe his feelings concerning the incident to anyone, let alone Power of all people, so instead he answers her question with a simple, “Yes.”

Power nods in response. “I suppose he is alright then.”

Aki shakes his head, saying, “Yeah, he’s alright,” in a passive sort of agreeance as if he needed Power’s approval of him. 

Even so, as they finish cooking everything together (Aki doing most of the labor, of course, since he doesn’t enjoy being poisoned), the thought holds with a sort of warmth over something as simple as a blessing. 

---

Without any sort of formalities or thanks, Power digs in first, attacking her food with only the gluttony witnessed in predators. Denji at least holds for a moment, a flurry of words before he too digs in. 

Aki holds off for a moment altogether, forming a trinity before he even picks up a utensil. He often performed the motion on their occasional lunch outing, but it seemed so natural and small that Angel is almost certain it comes without notice or awareness. 

Nevertheless, Angel says a silent prayer to whoever will listen, mostly thanking Aki for the meal. He turns to him after, watching as he lifts the spoon to his mouth. 

“Feed me,” Angel instructs. Aki complies. 

It’s a bit routine at this point, albeit a little ridiculous, but Aki still spoons the curry into Angel’s mouth before taking a bite for himself. Denji is rather quick to point out how it’s an indirect kiss, and Aki is even quicker in shutting him up. Angel tries not to think of the significance himself. The cycle is slow, but filling, even if they have an unfortunate audience watching their every move. 

Power and Denji keep their eyes on Angel, not even attempting to hide their prying curiosity. Aki tells them to quit staring and they follow his instruction for a second or two, long enough for Power to sneak her vegetables onto Denji’s plate and for Denji to clearly reason out something in his head, but the peace doesn’t last very long. 

“So like,” Denji begins, pouting his lips, “what’s yer deal?”

Angel haphazardly looks to Aki.

“What do you want to know?” Angel asks back.

“You don’t have to encourage him,” Aki says. “Seriously, Denji, can you at least try to respect the guests we have?”

“I’m bein’ super respectful, what the fuck?” Denji argues back. 

Power raises her hand. “I should be respected more!” she demands. “Quake in fear before the almighty Blood Fiend!”

“Says the chick that was crying over takin’ a bath just last week!” Denji argues back. “No, I wanna figure out what’s goin’ on between you two.” He points out towards them, squinting as if that makes him even slightly more intimidating. 

As if on command, Aki’s hand gets just a bit too close for comfort, causing both of them to jump back before contact is possible. 

Denji’s eyes go wide and he points again. “Like that! What the fuck?”

“Denji,” Aki says. 

“What?”

“Eat your food before it gets cold.”

Begrudgingly, Denji takes a bite. Angel lifts an eyebrow, genuinely surprised at the sway Aki holds over literal demons, but Aki doesn’t say anything about it. Like it’s just a natural thing. Like this is just some normal dinner they’re all having. 

“Angel’s powers take away life force,” Aki explains. 

With a mouth full of food, Denji asks, “And that’s why you can’t touch anyone?” 

“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” Aki chides as Angel answers, “Yes.”

Angel watches as Power raises her eyebrows suggestively. Aki sends her a silent death threat back, but Denji doesn’t seem to notice anything going on. 

“What does that even mean though?” Denji continues. 

Angel shakes his head. “It means each touch with a human is deadly. If I touch someone for even a second or two, I’ll kill them and their life force is later imbued in the weapons I create.”

“Wait, does your power work on me?” Denji asks, food trailing out the edge of his mouth. 

Angel frowns. “I’m not sure, to be quite honest. It doesn’t work on devils. They don’t really possess life spans, not in the same way humans do."

“Ooh! Scary,” Denji coos. “Here, I wanna—” He leans over the table and pokes Angel right on the cheek without warning or fear. In fact, it’s so casual that he sits down again and starts scooping the curry into his mouth like he had been a moment prior, clearly unconcerned with the potential that his life could’ve been cut permanently shorter. 

Angel does not feel that tug in the pit of his stomach though. The one that comes when precious human life enters his bloodstream and adds pointless power. He does not even receive the inevitable guilt that surfaces after contact. There’s truly nothing. 

Aki, on the other hand, does not take the action lightly. “Denji, what the fuck?” he shouts. “Don’t touch people without asking. Especially if it puts you in danger.”

Denji yawns. “Yeah? How much did I even lose?”

“You didn’t,” Angel says, the fact spilling from his lips as a cold, harsh, and incredulous truth. “You don’t have the lifespan of a normal human, devil, or fiend.” 

Denji cheers as Power gasps dramatically. “What? What if I touch you?” 

Before anyone can stop the action, she reaches over and pokes Angel as well before Denji yanks her back by the hair.

“Did it work? Did it work?” she demands. 

“Powy! He’s gonna kill you!” Denji shouts. 

“You lost a week,” Angel confirms. “The power isn’t as effective on fiends.”

Power gasps. “You devil! Give my life back!”

“I can’t.”

“Powy!”

“‘Tis your fault!”

“My fault? It’s your fucking fault for touching him!”

“You touched him without consequences though!”

“Chainsaw-kun is strange like that, I wouldn’t follow his actions.”

“Hear that? I’m special, bitch!”

“Shut up!”

Aki stands. The abrupt motion causes the table to shake, and Angel’s drink goes down, spilling over the center of the table. He’s powerless to stop it, even more so as three pairs of eyes recenter themselves on the now lone standing man. Their overlapping conversations cease to a halt, and Aki clears his throat. 

“I’m stepping outside,” he announces. He takes his leave and Angel watches his retreating figure step through the living room and out to the patio, slamming the door shut behind him. Through the half-tilted blinds, Angel notices the spark of a lighter before the silhouette steps away. 

Angel is left with a fiend and a devilman both staring at him with slackened jaws. 

Denji slowly removes himself from their fight and retreats to the kitchen to grab a towel. He shoves it in Power’s face. “It’s your turn to clean,” he announces.

“‘Tis not!” Power argues back. “I helped with the cooking, so ‘tis your turn to clean! Or, better yet, we shall make the devil do it!”

“Look at him,” Denji says. “Angel can’t do nothing without arms.”

“Aki makes do.”

“Because he still has one arm, dipshit!”

“I’m not helpless,” Angel cuts in, not sure what possibly motivates him to defend his honor to Denji and Power of all people. “There’s no need to pity me or my situation. I’m fine.”

Denji sighs and kneels down. “It’s not pity, ya know,” he says as he begins to wipe up some of the spilled water and food. “I think Aki would kill us if he saw you helping since you’re a guest and all. He’s weird like that.”

Power nabs a piece of meat from Aki’s plate before grabbing it and taking it to the kitchen with her own. “Topknot has made his intentions very clear when it comes to you.”

Intentions? Angel looks towards the closed door, mind racing with things he shouldn’t want or need. 

“Is he always like this?” Angel asks. 

Denji and Power spit out contradictory answers that send them into an argument Angel has no interest in hearing. He stands instead, stepping through the living room and towards the patio. 

Angel taps at the door with his foot, but no response comes. He waits, impatient, and winds up to kick again as it slides open to reveal Aki behind it, cigarette hanging off his lips. Already in motion, Angel’s leg goes nowhere and he begins to fall forward without anything to balance himself. Aki reaches out, placing a careful hand on his chest to keep him from falling anymore. 

Their eyes meet for only a millisecond, Aki’s hand burning hot between the thin fabric separating their skin. Angel lets his feet readjust, but Aki doesn’t remove his hand. He doesn’t move at all. They’re caught in this fleeting moment in time where cotton, just mere cotton, is what keeps them apart. 

Curiosity blooms, as does the heat on Angel’s cheeks, as Denji and Power scream from the kitchen. The words are lost as the world comes back all at once. Angel consciously takes a step back, not wanting to cause any accidental damage, as Aki’s hand retracts into his pocket. 

“Sorry,” he grumbles. 

“It’s okay,” Angel says. 

Aki steps back and Angel follows him onto the patio, the door sliding shut and sealing them off into their own world. Taking a long drag of his cigarette, Aki continues to walk over until he they reach the other end of the porch out of sight from the kitchen. 

Angel leans against the railing, a touch of wind catching in his hair. He can feel Aki’s eyes on him, feel the weight of confused desires, but ultimately Angel doesn’t have much to say. 

“Do you want a cigarette?” Aki asks to mediate their silence. 

“I’m okay,” Angel says. “I never really liked the taste. Too bitter.”

Aki nods. “Yeah…” he takes a few more puffs before putting it out on the ashtray. He returns to Angel’s side, and they both stare out towards the city before them. 

They fall into a mutual hush, not sure what words even suffice to understand one another. Angel has never come this close to a human before. He’s never invaded their homes, never tasted their home-cooked food, never… he’s never felt this safe standing beside one, either.

Angel shivers as the wind picks up. Without question or latency, Aki takes off his jacket and slides it over Angel’s shoulders. It doesn’t fit well with his wings and all, but the thought remains and Angel almost has to laugh at how silly it is. 

“Won’t you get cold?” Angel asks, a bit teasingly. 

Aki shakes his head. “I grew up in Hokkaido. I’ll be fine.”

“Hokkaido… up north? In the country?”

“Yeah.”

Angel tries to imagine Aki in the snow, flurries all around him and nose pink from the cold. With land sprawling around them, not a single skyscraper in sight… it’s a life neither of them really know. 

“So you are a country mouse,” Angel decides. 

“I guess,” Aki relinquishes, eyebrows scrunched together. “I’m like you, though. After my family died, I was taken to Tokyo. I probably wouldn’t even be here if not for Public Safety.”

Angel sighs. He knows it’s futile. He knows his argument won’t stand. And yet… and yet a part of him can’t resist bringing it up again. “It’s not too late,” he says, hoping the words land. “You can still run away. Go back to the country.”

Aki doesn’t even give it any thought this time. “I can’t…”

“I know,” Angel pleads, “that Power and Denji and Makima are here, and you can’t leave them behind, but is that really what’s best for you?”

“Angel—”

“Actually, I’ll stop.” Angel shakes his head. “I don’t know why I even brought it up again. Sorry.”

Aki’s grip on the railing tightens. He sucks in a breath. “If…if I left…I’d be leaving you behind too.”

“Would you go if I went with you?”

That stops Aki for a moment. And though the words are heavy, laced with emotions Angel has never quite reckoned with, he doesn’t back down from them. It brings a sort of calmness despite its plain absurdity. Angel cannot truly fathom the privilege of remaining beside Aki, but it wouldn’t be for him. 

“I know I would only slow you down,” Angel admits, “but you deserve the chance to escape.”

Aki’s eyes shift downward. “I can’t leave the others behind. I’m sorry. If you have the opportunity to live freely though, you should take it.”

Angel nods, fully aware that day will never come. 

“And I’m sorry for walking out during dinner,” Aki offers. “They shouldn’t have been invading your space like that.”

“It’s fine,” Angel shrugs. 

“You don’t have to brush it off so easily; they invaded your space, that’s not alright.”

Angel raises an eyebrow. “You don’t have to get so upset with them, though. I should’ve been clearer about the consequences so Power didn’t have to lose any time.”

“That wouldn’t have happened though if they were being more careful,” Aki insists. “They were rude.”

“Seriously? It just seemed like curiosity to me. You should be grateful that my power doesn’t kill everyone.”

“Grateful?” Aki scoffs. “Why should I be grateful that Denji of all people isn’t affected by your power?”

Angel looks up at Aki, trying to gauge his expression. He can see the pinch in his brows, see the curl of his lips and it doesn’t make any sense. “He barely touched me. Once. Why are you so upset?

“Because it’s not me!” Aki admits. “Because I want to touch you without consequences. Is that really so much to ask for?”

Cicadas sing a late-summer song, their chirping filling the air with a kind of lullaby that makes Angel’s mind go blank as it tugs, relentlessly, on something he’s not supposed to remember. The ebbing and flowing of waves. The laughter of children. A foreign tongue. A pretty girl’s confession. 

The noise gets drowned out though by the sounds of the city. Traffic keeps chugging along, and people talk from the streets below in a chorus of their own, reminding Angel he’s no longer free to revel in the countryside, but rather he’s forced to engage with urban mice and dirty humans. 

Not Aki, though. Never Aki. 

No, Aki has always lived in this frozen box in Angel’s heart from the moment he offered him a handkerchief with no worry for his own life. 

“It’s safe through cloth, right?”

Such simple words that sent Angel spiraling down the path less travelled, down the path to his own certain destruction. 

Words that Angel clung onto as a typhoon circled around them. As Aki reached out a hand, unafraid, and refused to let Angel perish. Even when it wasn’t safe. Even when there was much more to lose than a few measly days. 

“I want to touch you without consequences.”

Laws of physics and nature dictate that every action has an equal opposite reaction. 

Aki touches Angel, and he loses months of his life. Where was the justice in that? 

It’s stupid. And pointless. The world is a cruel, strange place. Angel has no right to remain here as he does, the feeble object of another’s desires, and yet somehow this is his reality. This is the man he’s chosen to stand next to. The man who’s chosen him. 

What a strange, strange thing. 

“I don’t mind if you touch me,” Angel says as a sort of pitiful consolation. “Through cloth or some other kind of barrier of course… but you can do whatever you want.”

Angel holds his breath, holds on to whatever he can, as Aki turns to him with newfound motivations. He raises his hand from the railing, carefully, slowly, and lets it hover over Angel’s cheek. Angel stills underneath the almost-touch, desperately aware of the sole fragments of air between them. 

Pulling his hand back, Aki visibly restrains himself from moving any further. “I should’ve bought gloves,” he says under his breath, barely loud enough for Angel to hear. 

“What?” he asks in response. 

“Nothing.” Aki brushes it off, but doesn’t allow himself to look away. 

Angel doesn’t fear things very often. Perhaps that’s a side effect of existing as the manifestation of fear in itself. But something about this unknown they’re diving into is mortifying. Angel likes knowing what’s next; the rapid thrumming of his heart is simply no way for a devil to live. 

So he falls back on what he knows, and simply says, “I’m tired.”

Aki nods, understanding. “Yeah. It’s been a long day. I can walk you back to Public Safety, if you want.”

“Why?” Angel says back too quickly. “They don’t actually want me there; they just want my power.”

“Right…” Aki fidgets with the end of his shirt. “You’re more than welcome to stay here, if you want. I can set you up in my room.

“Okay.”

They head inside and Aki makes quick work of stripping the bed to replace the sheets. From there, they get ready for bed, and again Aki’s forced into helping Angel with even the most menial of tasks. He doesn’t complain though as he brushes his teeth or digs out old clothes for him to wear. He doesn’t even complain as he cuts holes in the back of the shirt to let Angel’s wings rest comfortably. Aki’s rather nice about the whole situation, down to the moment when he goes to leave. 

“Power may start screaming in the middle of the night,” Aki warns as he heads for the door. “Denji’s usually good about calming her down though, and I’ll make sure she doesn’t storm in here if it even comes to that. Otherwise… do you need anything else?”

“Are you sleeping on the couch?” Angel asks. 

Aki nods. “Figured it would be easiest.”

“Why? It’s not like I take up your entire bed. And that couch is uncomfortable.”

Taking a hesitant step back in the room, Aki raises an eyebrow. “You’re okay with us sleeping in the same bed?”

“I told you I didn’t care if you touched me,” Angel reminds him. “I meant it.”

At last, Aki shuts the door behind him. He pads through the room, flicking off the light as he goes. Angel makes some more room for him, and Aki slips into bed, carefully, trying his best not to disturb the novel climate. 

They sit there for minutes or hours just taking in each other. Aki makes all of the first moves. He moves in closer. He draws the blanket over them. He even uses the topsheet as a thin barrier that lets him graze over Angel’s cheek with a featherlight softness and grace. The material’s just fine enough to let the heat from Aki’s hand pour through, a remarkable sort of feat. 

For the most part though, it’s just silence. It’s taking a breath away from the rush of Public Safety and the threat of the Gun Devil. And despite the ticking clock of their interactions, Angel still allows himself to be present in the moment. 

Moonlight lazily streams in from the window, the light catching on Aki’s eyes. Angel flicks his gaze between each of his pupils, trying to determine what the hell is going on inside that man’s brain. 

Even knowing how brash and careless he is, knowing how he jumps in without warning, knowing the lengths he’ll go to keep the people around him safe and happy… Angel still isn’t prepared for the next words that leave his lips. 

“Can I kiss you?” Aki asks, shattering the silence, ripping it apart shred by shred with such a loaded fucking question Angel has no idea how to react. 

The implications of such an act hangs in the air, the same way Aki’s dwindling time left on this earth hangs on a wire ready to be cut. He’s willing to sever it. He’s willing to dive right in, fully cognizant of the consequences, and for what? A few seconds of relief? A few moments where everything could finally feel right?

If Angel is completely honest with himself, this isn’t even the first time he’s considered it. No, the thought is a well-known one, battered and worn, drawn up time and time again as Angel has considered it more than he’d ever admit in times of distress and self-pity. 

Of course, it was always an impossibility. Some far off dream that would never happen. Angel would make sure of it. 

But there’s something about the melancholy that laces itself through Aki’s voice and actions and words that pulls Angel closer, pulls his defenses down, even in such a ridiculous thought. 

“No,” Angel says, fearing his own heart from yielding an answer.

Aki sucks in a breath, stealing the literal air from Angel’s own inhale. “Why not?”

“I’m not letting you lose any more life because of me,” Angel insists. 

“I don’t have much time anyway.” Aki’s gaze falls to Angel’s lips. “I… I am going to die by Denji’s hands. There’s no changing that.”

Angel shakes his head. “You don’t know that.”

“I do. I can feel it. And I know it’s coming soon. Shouldn’t I do something I want to with my remaining time left?”

Angel bites his lip. Yes, he screams. Yes, yes, yes. He says, however, “Why me? You could have anyone you want, kiss them as much as you’d like, hold their hands, fuck them… so why would you give up all of that, give up months of your life, for a mere kiss from me?”

“There’s no one I want but you,” Aki surrenders. 

The world is a cruel, cruel place. It always has been.

But Aki remains before him, offering up much more than Angel is worth, and he cannot deny the feelings locked in his chest, finally thawed from the warmth of Aki’s hand as it wraps around Angel’s back and eliminates the space between them. Angel cannot deny anything anymore. 

“Okay,” he says at last, heartache filling his warbled acceptance. He doesn’t want to steal away Aki’s life; he only wants to be there for the time he has left. 

Aki’s eyes light up. It’s the only time Angel has seen such vigor and happiness line his expression. “Yeah?”

Angel nods. “If you really, really want this, I won’t say no. Even if it proves you’re some suicidal maniac.”

“It’s not that,” Aki says, the words a soft lullaby on his tongue. “I just want to kiss you.”

“Do you still hate devils?”

Aki tilts his head forward, inching in past that invisible barrier they’ve been so good about keeping. It’s useless now, as blue eyes liquify into pools Angel could swim in. “Not all of them.”

Angel remembers a time when Aki hated him. When he loathed the Gun Devil and saw his new buddy as nothing more than a mere pawn only present to further his ploy. Resentment slipped away though, leaving the passion and erasing the hostility to have Aki’s devotion towards revenge turned towards Angel. He was a follower now; a devout man that called upon the heavens for something as meaningless as a kiss. 

Now, as Angel gazes upon the mere mortal before him, he weakens. “I’ll only allow it for three seconds though, okay? I know you’ll want to keep going, and I may attempt to as well, but you have to promise me that you’ll pull away after three seconds, okay?”

“Okay,” Aki agrees. 

Angel stares into him. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” Aki confirms without hesitation. “It… it won’t take away everything, will it?”

“No. At least, it shouldn’t. I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Aki sucks in a breath. “You want this too, right?”

Angel doesn’t say anything. He fears an answer wouldn’t begin to describe his affection, so he simply comes in even closer and finally, incrementally, allows their lips to touch. 

One. 

If this were a perfect world, Aki’s lips would be soft. They would melt into Angel’s, pliant and willing, the taste sweet like candy. This wouldn’t even be their first kiss; by now, Angel would know the action well, but still cherish the gesture and beg for more. 

But they do not live in a perfect world. Far from it, in fact, as Aki’s breath isn’t sweet, but rather lingers with cigarettes and the scent of his toothpaste. And his lips are rough. Chapped. Hard as they work against the devil’s without attention or care. There’s a sort of desperation in the act, a kind of anguish that Angel latches onto with his own reciprocated greed. 

The whole ordeal remains an odd combination, certainly one Angel wasn’t expecting, and yet some part of him quickly becomes used to the flavor and movement because it’s so inherently, unabashedly Aki. Nothing else would fit him so well. 

For a first kiss and a second touch, it’s intimate. Only lips are connected, and yet Angel can feel the heat radiating through his entire body, even as the pit of his stomach sinks below the floor, the telltale sign that Aki’s life is slipping away. 

Nevertheless, Angel holds on. He savors it. He drinks up every tiny increment of time, every miniscule movement Aki makes, and lets it drive him to new levels of warmth that were impossible to even imagine before. 

Two. 

It is not enough. Angel is a devil, after all. A selfish being spurred by his own desires and there is only one man who can satisfy his insatiable hunger. Voracious tendencies have rarely driven him before—a sample of flesh here, a taste of skin there—but never before has Angel felt this high. Ascending beyond the realms of possibilities, Angel sinks his teeth into the present moment and tries not to bite off more than he can chew. 

No devil or mortal or god alike could begin to imagine what a rush kissing Aki is like. Their combined powers couldn’t come close to the subtle gentleness that shows itself despite the harshness of his lips. 

It’s a kiss. That’s all. 

Yet Angel yearns, violently, for more. More. More. 

Aki provides. 

He makes even the smallest moments worthwhile as he lets Angel consume him whole. It’s one thing to dream of a situation like this for months, it’s a whole other experience to physically feel every movement, every touch, every noise and taste. 

The longer they stay like this, the more Angel holds on, the more he destroys the very thing he wants to hold against his chest. 

It’s cruel. They live in a cruel world. 

Tragedy should plague the unholy and evil beings of this world; it should not come upon humans like Aki. And though Angel is still a devil, he doesn’t take the soul lightly. He tries his best to keep others from harm. To save himself from harm. Is that really so wrong?

As Aki comes closer, as Angel takes even more from him, neither can exist much longer like this.It’s a fatal act. It only causes pain. 

But Angel still wants more. 

Three. 

Angel holds on to what he can. The taste. The sensation. His imagination fills in the parts that don’t actually exist. Angel doesn’t run his hands through Aki’s hair, untying the knot and fingering through the loose strands. Aki doesn’t cup his jaw, dragging him in closer as their legs don’t tangle together, cloth remaining the fickle barrier between lust that only continues to amplify. 

Though reality is soft and simple, merely two sets of lips pressing together in fear of anything further, Angel’s mind wanders into an impossible unknown. 

He doesn’t deepen the kiss, licking into Aki’s mouth and grinding forward, getting closer, closer, closer until there’s no more room to budge. Aki doesn’t make the smallest sound, enough to get the message across to keep going. Heat doesn’t course through them, an unbearable, intolerable heat that begs for them to strip away these oppressive layers so they can touch skin to skin, actually feel one another rather than trap themselves to fragile binds.

Angel isn’t used to such need. To exerting such effort. He doesn’t know the feeling of wanting so much and receiving so little. 

He just wants Aki all to himself. 

It’s not real, Angel screams at himself, panting into Aki’s open mouth. Don’t make it real. 

He pulls away. If he holds on any longer, he’ll steal every last moment of Aki’s life away. 

Somehow, Angel finds it within himself to calm his desires despite the constant thump of his heart against his ribcage and despite the blush that refuses to go away. 

Aki falls to his back, eyes staring up at the ceiling. He smiles. It's the prettiest thing Angel has ever seen. Even so, guilt fills him as the stolen time sinks into his bones, filling his blood with unwanted power. 

“Was it worth it?” Angel asks, hoping for the answer he most certainly won’t hear. 

Aki softens, eyes wide with desire and yearning and everything he cannot have. “Every second of it, yeah.”

Every second. Angel cannot bring himself to say how Aki has lost 7,884,008 seconds of his life for only three seconds of contact. 

And yet, Angel would do it again in a heartbeat. If Aki moves forward right now, if he presses his lips against Angel again, he won’t pull away. He couldn’t. He would kiss Aki until there was absolutely no time left for them. And what a waste that would be. 

Or… would it? 

Would that be such a sin? To die in the arms of an angel?

…Then again, Angel has no clue how Aki actually considers him. He could be nothing more than an act of relief, a simple way to release some pent-up energy from the stress of devil hunting. Other officers had their own vices: drinking, sex, mania, suicide… maybe this was Aki’s way of keeping that insanity alive. 

That’s stupid, Angel tells himself, because it is. Aki, though rash and self-destructive, does not take from others for mere joy. He’s not a devil, after all. 

A devil like Angel who only wants to take away Aki’s last moments and keep them all to himself. 

It’s not an active want, despite its newfound presence at the forefront of Angel’s mind. Still, he can’t help but think about Aki’s death and the horridity that would come with the Chainsaw’s hands. 

If Angel did it, he’d make Aki’s death worthwhile. Not only would it be effortless and painless, but they could touch. Again. And that in itself is almost enough to make Angel kiss Aki once more. 

There are some true benefits to it though. If Angel kills Aki, it’ll be a massive fuck you to fate and future. If it was going to constrain them to these marginal touches, the least they can do in return is destroy whatever plan was laid out that included Denji killing Aki and Power. 

Angel shakes his head, chiding his own thoughts. He’s still a devil. And there’s still a real boy before him, watching his every miniscule movement. A beautiful boy, with a beautiful life, and Angel has no right in keeping it for himself. 

They don’t fall asleep for a long time. No, they speak of childhoods and upbringings, of futures and dreams, of favorite things and pet peeves, of what any of this even means. They speak until their tongues are dry, and continue to speak a little more even after that. It’s all they can do. It’s the best they can manage without grasping onto one another for dear life. 

Aki’s hand runs lazy circles along Angel’s shoulder, side, and back. Their legs remain tangled together, only sheets protecting them in the most dangerous of circumstances. 

Eventually the night does greet them with a comforting lullaby, and Angel somehow ends up even closer than he thought possible. 

For the first time in a long time, Angel’s dreams aren’t filled with visions of ghosts and lost souls. Instead, he falls into a peaceful lull with Aki’s breath on his cheek and his body wrapped around him, a clear mind that offers simple harmony. 

---

That night, Aki envisions a life never intended to happen. 

A kiss on the cheek proves as a first sign that something is off, but Angel’s radiant smile fills Aki with unknown happiness and pride, forcing him to drag Angel in close despite his efforts to wiggle away with a squeal. 

They kiss and they laugh and they fuck like real lovers do. Like a regular couple, not bound by senseless restraints or contracts or devils. 

And it feels so natural too. Aki knows each place to poke and prod that shows Angel's secretly ticklish nature and he knows to kiss him on the nose to receive a cute, disgruntled look as they get ready for the day. 

It’s a seamless thing, a life filled with absurdity in its complete normality, and yet Aki can’t find it within himself to critique the things before him. He doesn’t question why he savors every kiss and touch with Angel so much. He doesn’t question why the house is eerily quiet when they make breakfast. He doesn’t question their countryside view while drinking coffee together on their front porch. He doesn’t even question his normal job or his normal life until he’s facing an image he shouldn’t know. 

The future rules, a voice echoes. Aki can’t place the sound. The world spins around him, all white walls and frenzied brushstrokes, until Aki comes face to face with destiny itself. 

There is a man with a gun strapped to his face. 

A man, barely recognizable, but a man. 

It’s a lithograph print. An exhibit displaying Modern American artists. 

“The Road to Life,” Angel says. 

Aki looks at him, startled. “What?” he breathes. 

“The piece. It’s called, The Road to Life. It’s right here.” He points to the placard. 

Instead of a description, Aki sees his own name. He sees the day September 12, 1997. He sees the man with the gun in his head. 

“Aki?” Angel says, worry laced in his voice. 

Aki grabs his hands and pulls Angel in close. “Promise me that no matter what happens, you’ll stay with me.”

“I promise,” Angel says without hesitation. 

“Swear it. Swear that you’ll stay with me and I’ll stay with you, no matter what.”

Angel nods. “I swear it.”

Aki wraps him in a hug and presses a kiss to his forehead. Like this, they’re safe. Like this, even men with guns strapped to their faces don’t stand a chance to simple dreamt promises. 

---

Angel thinks about Lucifer sometimes. The Morning Star. The Light Bringer. The Fallen Angel. 

There is something poetic about their similar situations, but in all honestly Angel doesn’t consider them all that alike. In fact, upon hearing of Lucifer’s situation, Angel actually laughed. Maybe it was pity, or some uncanny feeling of shared experiences soon to come. 

Oh to fall for something as simple as free will. Angel has no idea what such a thing is like. Public Safety stripped him of freedom, but somehow left his wings. Some say Lucifer wanted to be like humanity; Angel can’t imagine a worse thing. Humans are dumb and dull and deserved to suffer. Why save creatures that did so little for him?

Another tale says Lucifer was cast out because he refused to kill devils. Angel cadn’t imagine himself doing that either. Devils, like humans, are rather worthless. Nothing salvageable about a species that would tear away his arms and nearly cause his demise. 

One legend states that Lucifer’s punishment was to perpetually fall in love with a human. At first, Angel thought that was idiotic as well. 

But now, as Angel steals moments with Aki, as he holds five months of stolen life in his body, as he gazes upon him with the awe and reverence humans should hold for celestial bodies… well Angel can’t help but feel like the fool after all. 

Of course Lucifer would fall in love with a human. Of course. Of course, of course, of course. 

Existence is a curse, after all and Angel has been cursed since the moment he awoke surrounded by dead bodies and a pair of intense eyes that stole away his free will. 

But, then again, Angel is not merely a fallen angel. No, he exists as both angel and devil, as saint and sinner, as man’s greatest desire and their greatest fear. He is a living, breathing juxtaposition that embodies the sacred and the profane. 

And, really, isn’t that just humanity in itself? To live as a contradiction, to have both the good and the bad? Angel’s no better than humans in that sense. 

He fell. 

In many ways, that is. Angel fell for humanity. He fell for a simple man. He fell from grace, with scraped knees and broken bones, and yet there was still a man willing to welcome him into his home.

Angel extends his phantom limbs, caressing Aki’s cheek with a quiet sort of comfort. He imagines the feeling of his smooth skin pressed underneath the pads of his fingers, the slight stubble that pricks up overnight. He wants to run his fingers through Aki’s loose hair, rolling the coarse strands over in his hands, and letting it fall back down into loose shapes. 

 Angel wants. And Aki, in more ways than one, provides. 

---

Aki’s mother was Christian. A devout woman who wore a cross around her neck, the golden lines a strange sight he’d stare at long before Taiyo got sick and before the gun devil took everything away. While the exact color of her eyes and the shape of her face became traces of memories, blurred fragments that he could not recall try as he might, the sight of the cross remained as striking as ever. 

She read him bible stories at night, voice smooth and calm. Aki listened, unsure the difference between fiction and faith, even as his father demanded she stop. He did not believe in one god or another, but the Hayakawas were still buried in a Shinto cemetery. Even now, Aki doesn’t know why.

Nevertheless, those sacred tales stuck with him. They came to him in odd moments that his mom would probably say is God showing His presence, but Aki would rather call it as a moment of recollection. Of restarting. Of remembering what was lost, but now is found. 

As he watches Angel’s chest rise and fall, rise and fall, with slices of morning light cutting across his face as it tears through the haphazard curtains, breaking apart as it catches on his nose, his feathers, his hair. He is glorious and divine in a way Aki didn’t even know was possible. In ways that make him question God for a punishment so horrible. 

Consequences fit actions. God is callous, but fair. So Aki screams to the heavens above, what did he do to deserve a life like this? 

Then again, maybe only God was powerful enough to make something as mystical and hallowed as Angel. Maybe there was some lesson to be learned about looking but not touching. 

Eve bit the apple and Aki kissed the angel; who could judge the greater sin? Both sought the forbidden fruit, but perhaps Aki’s transgression came in the lust that remained well after the act. 

His mind wandered, as did his hand, subconsciously going to touch Angel’s cheek without thought until Aki yanked it back at the last moment. 

According to the Bible stories, angels came in dreams. They told people, do not be afraid. And yet, the fear persisted. Enough to warrant the phrase. Enough to conjure a devil with wings and a hellish touch despite such an angelic appearance. 

Did people truly fear Angel? Aki couldn’t even imagine the thought. Even with his life flitting away from him, Aki never worried about what he may do. Fear is the last thing running through Aki’s mind as he witnesses Angel’s quiet breathing in his own bed. 

If Angel himself visited Aki in a dream and told him to not be afraid, Aki wouldn’t know how to even handle himself. Aki had been living in a dream since the first moment he met Angel, after all. A fucked-up, endless dream where angels could lie with men, and devils weren’t truly that awful. 

God is callous, but fair. God granted Aki the wonderful gift that is Angel. Shouldn’t that be enough?

Angel stirs, eyes blinking lazily as they adjust to the light. He groans and snuggles further in the blankets. “What time is it?” he grunts. 

“Early,” Aki says. 

Angel exhales. “I’m going back to bed. Wake me never.”

Aki snorts, trying to let the joke slide away from him without thinking about it too much. His mind plays dangerous tricks though as it wanders into horrible inevitabilities that will come once Aki has passed. 

The lunch they shared comes back to him. Their conversation concerning the cycle of devils and how to call upon one with mere apprehension. Maybe it’s obscene to wish for a devil upon the earth, he didn’t care. 

In his next life, Aki hopes to fear angels just for the chance that his angel will return to him. 

His angel. 

Aki chokes back his feelings before they can spill outwards again. He falls onto his back and rests, allowing for even just mere moments the idea that he could be with Angel again. Resting for a few moments, not quite drifting off but not awake either, Aki calms himself with pointless thoughts until Angel rises beside him. 

“Angel?” he says, voice still rough from sleep. 

Angel stretches his back, wings circling behind him as he lengths them to their full extent. They take up most of Aki’s room, white feathers glowing in the morning light, until he folds them back behind them in one fell swoop. 

“Why did you save me that day?” he asks. His voice is soft and mellow, sinking into the place where he once laid and wrapping Aki in a sort of unknown, but welcomed, warmth. 

Aki presses his lips together. “I told you, I was tired—”

“—of watching people around you die,” Angel finishes for him. “I know. But I’m not a person; I’m a devil.”

“I know.”

“But you stopped calling me Devil,” Angel continues. “You call me Angel.”

“Yeah.”

Angel’s eyes scan over him, trying to gain some understanding, some reasoning that Aki can’t really provide. 

“Why are you this nice to me?” Angel asks, begging for explanations he’ll never receive. “Why am I here? Why did you kiss me? I don’t understand it. I don’t understand you. ”

Aki lets out a breath. “I don’t know. Honestly. But…when I was a kid, I used to pray for an angel to bring me good news. I’d lost everything, and I’d given up hope for the longest time, but then I saw you. And, yes, I know somewhere deep down you’re a devil, but you’ve always been more of an angel to me. Always. And if you told me to call you by a different name, I’d do that too, but nothing really sums you up better than calling you an Angel.”

“You really think that?”

Aki nods.  

In a motion almost too quick to see, too quick for someone as languid as Angel, he mounts Aki’s torso, swinging his legs around and settling himself on Aki’s hips. Angel leans in close, gaze firm and fervent, and forces Aki to look back. 

“Before Chainsaw-kun or anyone else can harm you, would you like me to take away your pain?”

Aki stares up at him, expression unchanging. An angel quite literally hovers above him, speaking of death and last wishes, and Aki still can’t find it within himself to be afraid. 

Raising his arm, Aki lets his fingers trail across Angel’s calves, careful to keep it away from the place where his pants bundle to reveal bare ankles. Trespassing all known barriers, he keeps his eyes on the revealed skin even as his hand moves across the cloth and makes its way across Angel’s thigh and at last finds place on his hip. 

Angel doesn’t tell him to stop, or that it’s dangerous, or anything. He just holds Aki’s gaze firm, not backing down from his words. 

“I could kiss you again, if you’d like,” Angel continues. “Or hold your hand. Whatever makes it easier.”

“No,” Aki says. “You said it yourself, I’ll show up in your dreams. I don’t want that for you.”

Angel shakes his head. “When you’re gone, I think it’d be a privilege to see you in my dreams.”

“It’ll be nightmares, Angel. I’ll haunt you.”

“Maybe. But at least it won’t hurt. If Chainsaw-kun kills you, it will be agonizing pain. You won’t go peacefully. It doesn’t matter what happens to me afterwards anyway. Public Safety will probably come after me as soon as you’re gone.”

Aki’s eyes go wide, filled with newfound torment. “Don’t say that. Kishibe and I’s letter—”

“—is nearly useless when I don’t end up making a contract with anyone. It’s a nice gesture, but I refuse to give my powers to people who fear to even come near me. It’s not worth the effort. I’d rather die.”

“Would you make a contract with me?”

Angel’s expression softens. “If you’d want one, yes. I don’t know what you gain from a contract with me, but I’d do it.”

Aki takes his hand off Angel’s hip and raises it to his cheek. It hovers there, only millimeters of space between them, but he can still feel his skin without the actual contact. 

“I don’t even know what kind of abilities the Angel Devil can provide for me, but if it’ll help keep other people safe, especially from powers like the Gun Devil, I’ll give up whatever it takes. Whatever you’d want.”

“I think you’ve already given me what I want.”

Aki lets out a breath that could almost be mistaken for a laugh. A humble one, but still a laugh. “See, all I want is to make sure that when I’m gone, the only person it will hurt is me. I don’t want you to cry for me. I don’t want anyone to. I just want you to be safe and happy.”

“And to think that you were the man that hated devils the most.”

Aki shrugs and Angel rolls off of him, landing back on the bed with a sigh. “I’m tired,” he announces.

“I can go make us some breakfast,” Aki says. “After, we can go speak with Makima.”

Angel presses his lips together. “Right.”

Aki rises, allowing himself only one last moment to gaze over Angel’s perfect frame. A part of him knows this won’t ever happen again. That he’ll never see Angel like this again. They’ll never wake up in the same bed, and they’ll never kiss, and they’ll never feel at home. 

Yet that vision of a life together persists from Aki’s dream, and though it’s a futile thought, it’s still enough to let Aki get up and make his way to the kitchen. 

Aki doesn’t want to scar anyone. He doesn’t care how he dies, as long as it doesn’t impact the people around him. He’ll crawl into a hole and die alone if it means no one has to suffer the unbearable pain that comes with loss. 

But life doesn’t always work that way, does it?

Aki mediates in his own thoughts, mind racing with guilt to the point where he doesn’t even notice Denji’s presence until he’s right behind him, idly scratching his stomach and unbothered by anything else.

“Fuck!” Aki curses, quiet enough to not wake the rest of the house. “Can’t you announce yourself?”

Denji snorts. “Not my fault you’re a scaredy-cat.”

“Whatever,” Aki says, brushing it off. Even Denji’s idiocy couldn’t break through his impenetrable mind. “Did Power act up at all?” 

Denji shakes his head. “Nah, she was good. Not happy we had to clean the kitchen, but not like dying in the darkness or anything.”

Aki gnaws on his lip. “Sorry. I know I left everything in a mess. I’ll clean the last of everything today.”

“Ahuh, sure ya will,” Denji teases. 

“What does that mean?”

“Actually? Ya know what? I bet you will. Trying to show off and everything, I see you. Sly dog.”

Aki shakes his head. “Are you going crazy too? What are you talking about?”

“You and the Angel Devil!” Denji smirks, as if he knows something. As if that tiny, insignificant, petulant brain of his could understand the intricacies of Aki’s turbulent emotions that tear apart his long-standing ideologies and thoughts. As if he could possibly, ever begin to understand the extent to which Aki cared, and the confusion that ensued after such a marvelous revelation. 

But Denji, simply put, is not the brightest bulb in the box. He’s childish and uncouth, and Aki is rather tired of explaining himself. 

“Shut up,” Aki responds, eloquent as ever. 

Denji spits out a laugh. “Damn, bitch. What are you getting all defensive for?”

Aki shrugs and pulls out some eggs to start making breakfast. Denji gets to work making coffee, and Aki can’t help but watch him out of the corner of his eye to make sure he doesn’t add anything strange again. Last week, he added cinnamon to the grounds which proved an unfortunate concoction that Aki swallowed down in a dumb act of niceness. 

Still… Aki admittedly will miss mornings like this before the chaos becomes too much. Not that Denji was ever peaceful or calm, but in the weeks since the Darkness Devil, he’s mellowed out enough to take care of Power and help Aki with some of the smaller chores. Even now, he helps crack the eggs knowing the difficulty it provides Aki with. 

Denji pours each of them a mug of coffee, filling his own cup to the brim with excess milk and sugar to even swallow it down, and Aki takes a sip, letting the bitterness hit the back of his throat. Not perfect, but better.

“Do you remember how you agreed to follow my orders?” Aki asks, focusing his attention back on scrambling the eggs. 

Denji picks at his ear, clearly uninterested in the conversation. “Yeah I guess so.”

“Every order,” Aki clarifies. “Yes?”

“Sure, yeah,” Denji supplies, raising a brow. “Why?”

Aki tightens his grip on the spatula. “When the time comes, I want you and Power to watch over Angel.”

Denji coughs up his coffee. “The fuck?” he questions. “Dude, I know you’re like dying or whatever but it’s too early in the morning to be talking shit like this. What do you mean by ‘when the time comes?’ Are you seriously that close bein’ dead?”

“I don’t know.”

He can’t tell Denji of his vision. He… he can’t. He’s a kid. A devilman Public Safety officer but still a kid. 

“Damn,” Denji exhales, shaking his head. “That’s crazy.”

“Yeah…”

“Y’know, when I agreed to follow your orders, it was back when you were all like,” Denji drops his expression into a frown, obviously trying to copy Aki’s demeanor, “ My family was killed by the Gun Devil. I’ll remember that you want to make friends with a devil. I’m dark and broody, blah blah blah.”

Denji wiggles an eyebrow at him. Aki rolls his eyes. 

“What are you implying?” Aki questions. 

Denji drops his facade. “Dude. If you really want us to watch after a devil after you're dead, that's gotta mean something. I’m dumb, but I’m not stupid, I know what’s goin’ on between you two.”

“You really don’t.”

“‘Kay, maybe not, but something is different about you,” Denji says. 

Aki gives him a look. “What?”

“All I’m askin’ is what changed?” 

It’s a loaded question. One that Aki can’t answer right away. He tries to consider it, tries to determine where exactly he began to shift, but he ultimately comes up short for one specific moment where his life actually turned. 

What changed is that Aki’s trips to the grocery store now include a short excursion to the condiments aisle in case he finds a new jam Denji might want to try. What changed is that Aki learned how to purée the vegetables into the curry sauce so Power wouldn’t detect their presence, but still get the nutrients she needs. What changed is that Aki’s laundry increased threefold, and it’s difficult to keep someone at arm’s length after washing their bras and underwear as even the most intimate parts of a person become rather ordinary when tossed together in a load of delicates. What changed is that Aki lost and lost and lost time and time again, and even the people he thought he could rely on left him too, for no fault of their own of course but still. But still. They’re gone, but Denji and Power remain. They’re still fucking here. What changed is that his apartment never saw a moment of silence or rest and Aki didn’t realize until the two of them went on an overnight patrol that he doesn’t really like a quiet house. He doesn’t like a world where they’re not here. What changed is that he received the touch of an angel and he wanted another. He’s selfish in that regard, seeking a kiss, a graze, a fuck that isn’t his to have or keep, but how could a devil be that horrible but appear so angelic? When they actually saw Aki and didn’t shy away from telling him the truth? When he was there… when he was just fucking there. 

But Aki cannot voice these words with an ounce of eloquence or poise, so he gives Denji a shrug, averts his gaze, and answers, “Nothing.” It’s the same fib he told Makima lifetimes ago. “I’m the same guy I’ve always been.”

Denji presses his lips together. “To be honest, I just want you to say you were wrong.” 

“I was wrong,” Aki says. It’s curt and too quick of a response and sends Denji snorting. 

“Damn that was fast!” he retorts. “I was expecting some kinda resistance. Didn’t think you’d admit you were wrong, like, ever.” 

“Yeah. Well.”

Aki can feel Denji’s silent questions push against him, but he has no energy to say anything else. 

Nyako trots in the kitchen, meowing for her own breakfast. Power follows after her, much too energized for the morning as she starts talking about some wild dream she had. Denji only matches her energy as he feeds the cat, and Aki watches on feeling like a complete and utter idiot. 

Why does he love this so much?

There’s nothing particularly special about the way they go about their lives. Nothing special about the food they eat, the conversations they have. It’s chaos most days, chaos that Aki can’t say he enjoys. 

Yet there’s still something so mundane about their acts of breaking bread and sharing their time together.  A sort of mundanity Aki clings to even as revenge calls him back again and again, violent and tragic as ever. 

---

Angel follows Aki through the rest of his morning routine. They eat breakfast together. They drink coffee. They brush their teeth. They take a shower. 

Neither think too hard about idiotic things like implications considering neither of them know when this kind of morning will happen again. Even in this newly familiar domestic realm, Angel cannot imagine another day like today. 

Even as Aki strips away the cloth barriers that they put up to keep their skin apart, Angel won’t allow himself too much thought away from the present moment before him. It’s much more intimate this time, and Aki doesn’t stop his eyes from wandering from scar to scar, muscle to muscle. Angel shivers in the cold, wings impulsively wrapping around them, but Aki levels the playing field by stripping himself too. 

In all honesty, it should be much more sensual than it actually is. Bodies are bodies, made from the same sinew and blood, and Aki washes them both with careful attention. He shampoos their hair and lathers their skin, careful to keep wandering hands away. They’re quiet through the whole thing, Aki’s instructions the only sound other than the running faucet. 

Outside, Denji and Power giggle, crude comments hidden through shushes and hollers that prove ineffective in quieting the other. Aki rises at one point to make a comment, but Angel just laughs instead.

“You shouldn’t let them get to you so much,” Angel says as Aki shuffles back to him.

Aki shrugs, running the water over his hair again. “I don't, it's just… I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

Angel has to keep himself from bursting out laughing altogether. He’s exposed, yes, and in some unfamiliar environment with a man he allowed to kiss him… uncomfortable was the last thing Angel would use to describe his experience. “I’m fine,” he assures. “I am cold, though.”

Aki turns up the heat and finishes up, both of them taking one too many longing glances towards the other.  

It’s a baptism of sorts, with all the powers of regeneration and rejuvenation that Angel needs to see the day through. A sacrament shared only through two rather strangers, holy and sacred for them and them alone. 

For the first time in Angel’s entire existence, he wishes he were human.

Though they’re dumb and idiotic, they’re endearing. And they’re sweet. And if Angel was human, it would mean that mornings like this would be a guarantee. 

Instead, Angel spends every moment violently aware that the likelihood of another day like this is slim. 

They dress. They say their goodbyes. They begin their walk to the station, loose shirt arms catching together in the wind. They sit beside each other on the train. Aki lets Angel drink from his water. He complains about the weather. Aki agrees. 

At last, they arrive on the beach. Aki waves to Makima below. They walk towards her, oxfords sinking in the sand. Denji tied their shoes. Power tied their ties. Both of them are made from the hands of people they’ll never see again. 

Aki pleads to Makima. She doesn’t heed his request. Instead, she asks him to give her everything. And he does, much to Angel’s horror as sights of a distant beach and a group of strangers flood his mind. There was the one he loved; the one he could not save. 

Angel doesn’t know where he finds the energy. Vigor floods through him. Rage. Revenge. Perhaps he’s learned a thing or two from watching Hayakawa Aki, as this time refuses to lose his beloved again. 

He instills a weapon with stolen seconds, with five months of Aki’s own life, and wields it towards Makima. It doesn’t help. His actual exertion and attempt doesn’t help. She still wins. 

Even as life and humanity slip away from Angel, as the lives he’s taken are stolen from his chest, as everything he knows goes to black, a part of him remains. A part of Aki remains, too. 

An unknown promise made only in one man’s dreams. 

Somewhere, beyond time and Heaven and Hell and all that Angel knows of what life entails, there are hands grasping other hands. Skin brushing against other skin. 

There is a house Angel has never seen, and a life he’ll never experience. His barren, chilled hand holds onto Aki’s. Knuckles red from the frost and cheeks rosy with blush, Aki steps forward, pulling Angel along with him. In their stead, angels rest carved in the fresh-laden snow. Before them is warmth and the hopefulness of certain impossibilities. 

Angel lets a smile slip through, tightens his grip on Aki’s hand, and trudges forward into the unknown.