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The sun had just started its descent not long ago, the blues fading to many shades of yellow and oranges, blending in with hints of a meek, discreet pink and a bold violet strike peeking through the warm curtain of the fading sunlight as clouds that had once dusted the canvas of the sky drift off to unknown places.
It was an overlooked scenario- the sunset.
He found that people were often so preoccupied with either making the most of their day or resting during the night, that they tended to end up forgetting that they had moments such as these where they could breathe. Where they were allowed to.
Short, fleeting moments where they could stand outside under a tree and let the wind brush over and all around them, let blades of grass tickle their fingers and arms and legs, let falling leaves swirl with the breeze and just watch.
To simply Stop. Stop thinking for a moment, letting the world halt for a precious few minutes, in that sweet interval between waking and falling asleep, almost as if they were able to take hold of the Earth into their hands and seize its movements selfishly.
It's nice to dream while awake.
Gradually, the warmth of the sunlight got colder and colder, and the silence grew louder, distant bird calls trailing off before getting hushed by the approaching night.
But, it was peaceful reprieve, that's all that mattered to Shinso. This time of carelessness was his- his to do whatever he pleased.
A soft interlude where everything felt just right.
He sighed as the wind brushed his purple fringe further up, and he took advantage of the opportunity to close his eyes and take in the scent of nature; the small details that would normally pass by unnoticed. The faint moisture of the grass, the texture of the dried fallen leaves on the soil, pebbles here and there that pressed up against his palms.
It was during that instance that he felt cold, hesitant fingers brush against his, hovering shyly beside the sea of grass fields he’d chosen to stargaze in.
Shinso didn't take long to pry open his eyes and direct them at the smaller figure he knew was sat by his side.
Izuku was, admittedly, a whisper of freshness amidst an oppressive heat. Something akin to the arrival of Spring after months of a trying Winter- he was kindness and encouragement where the world could be dreadful and overwhelming. Shelter during a harsh, unforgiving storm.
His turquoise eyes held hope while Shinso’s own were a void- a pair of greedy black holes that threatened to steal away the life in that contained, bluish greenery to himself. He was selfish, terribly so, and he knew it, despised it, but did nothing about it.
But Izuku didn't see it that way.
It was as if he could tell what he was thinking, and maybe he did, because he merely smiled demurely at Shinso’s datk contemplations, his freckles now more accentuated under the fading fiery hues of the sky, almost glowing, like fireflies in the night.
Shinso felt himself exhale as he took in the picture of the boy in front of him- the curly hair, once as white as frost, now donned a splash of blurred colors that mirrored the evening sky above, intelligent, piercing green eyes that shone under the rapidly changing natural lights provided by the hiding sun, like the crystal clear lake he knew was nestled deep into the forest he took to living in.
Izuku's eyes were different however, they had this distinctive glimmer, so characteristic and just so him, impossible to be replicated, even in the perfection of nature itself. He’d seen those irises a thousand times before, and he didn't doubt he’d not mind seeing it a thousand more.
A delicate freckled hand reached out to hold and trace Shinso’s own pale cheeks, and he let his eyelids fall closed, only showing minor resistance to the invisible spell cast on him when puffs of warm air washed over the sides of his own neck, his violet eyes then opening just in time to see an arm secretly encircle his back gently.
Against his better judgment, he allowed his purple hair to fall atop Izuku’s strong shoulders, and his own arms reached out to pull the other figure even closer into an embrace, if possible. He never knew, the distance was always simultaneously as non existent as it was impossible to be crossed.
This was indeed supposed to be his own personal moment – but he was content to share it with the only person he ever felt the want to do so. A bittersweet peace, one he always found himself guilty of enjoying.
They remained close together, arms entangled and legs akimbo, letting the silent voice of the wind and the last light of day encompass them in a gentle hold of its own.
“…you should hate me.” Shinso found himself whispering lowly, almost wishing he'd keep that to himself in lieu of breaking the moment, or that Izuku would fail to catch it, but im vain, as he knew those pointed ears would be able to hear him clearly.
There was a subtle, sudden stiffness in the shoulders he had been seeking comfort in before they relaxed again, almost instantly, an exhale hitting Shinso’s forehead softly.
"I don't. I would never.”
Izuku was kind. Way too kind.
And he had no reason to be- he had no incentive.
He just was.
And Shinso couldn't understand.
“You are a human, yes.” There was a pause, as if the white haired boy was thinking of what he should say next, but Shinso knew that Izuku knew exactly what he wanted to externalize, he always did.
“But I am too, a part of me is.” Izuku’s gentle, clawed hands caressed his scalp as he spoke, and Shinso felt a new weight settle near his forehead. “It's ok, Shinso. We are ok.”
Shinso would forever deny the sob that escaped his lips. His memories, haunting in their cruel nature, would then always painstakingly remind him of the shouts he directed at the half demon in front of him, of when he begged for a semblance of hatred or even distaste towards his people for what they took from Izuku’s own kin- demanding the freckled boy to once and for all understand they just couldn't be.
He knew it was a moot point on his part, they’d had this conversation many times already, but Shinso couldn't force himself to let go of it.
Just as he knew he couldn't let go of Izuku. Of whatever it is that they have.
The boy in question only flashed a small, meek smile, before raising Shinso’s chin to eye level and connecting their foreheads together, locking their eyes onto one another.
By then, night had fallen upon them already, the last signs of day light having disappeared long ago during Shinso’s one sided argument.
“You say we can't be.”
The intensity of the stare almost made the human want to pull back and curl into himself, some ancient instinct dictating that he lower his head and keep quiet before those intense eyes, but he trusted Izuku, with his life and heart and soul and just about everything he is and has to offer, and he knew no harm would come to him from the owner of those turquoise irises.
It was a misplaced, naïve trust in the opinions of many others, and it went against everything Shinso was taught from the moment he could process words and what they meant. But he didn't care. Could care less what others thought of this, what they would do to him if they found out.
“But we are- Shinso. It just works. We made it work.”
Shinso's eyes close again for a moment, a shuddering breath rattling his limbs, and in the midst of it all he knows he won't ever be welcomed into a better place when his time comes, because he knows that Izuku is the only person he could ever willingly beg for forgiveness and acceptance, and knows that he's also the only one with genuine kindness in his heart to take him in and keep him safe.
Shinso knows that if the God the church people spoke of was truly real, it would have the most enchanting shade of green eyes he'd ever seen.
Idly, he notcies how his warm cheeks were currently being cupped by cold hands, and that soft finger tips were pressing down gently, but firmly, on them, almost willing their owner's love to seep into his skin through his covetous hold.
“It's something that's ours only.” Izuku whispers, full of certainty and not a trace of hesitation, and it's enough to make Shinso believe him, to pull him back to shore every time he finds himself going under.
He felt his lips wobble weakly, not caring if he looked as pathetic as he knew he did, and just as moisture began to blurry his vision he saw a pair of thumbs wipe them away with utmost care. Not for a single second did he fear that the sharpened nails would harm him.
“How can you just forgive?” Shinso found himself asking as soon as he regained control over his voice, and even then, he internally winced at its raspiness and the unpleasant friction his chords gave his throat.
Izuku looked at him in consideration, a slight furrow to his brow that made Shinso want to whisper apologies and wipe them away with soft touches and hushed words.
“I don't forgive." The half demon confessed, and Shinso didn't dare interrupt him or divert his gaze.
"It's a resentment I'll carry with me for as long as I live- not being able to see my own kind enjoy life to its fullest as they should.” Izuku answered fully.
And the fire that lurked behind his ocean eyes told Shinso it was the truth. That the raging underwater volcano within had no qualms about annihilating those who wronged him or the people he saw as dear.
Only then, was he the demon Shinso had been taught to spot and slain, only then was he the cold blooded, rage riddled beast that yearned for the destruction and obliteration of humanity- not even as revenge-
But merely as a horrific act of unjustified killing, something to assuage the demonic needs and pleasures that wicked beasts of the night yearned for.
Not that any act of killing was excused- except of course the one of the demon race.
That one tidbit had always remained a double edged sword burried into Shinso’s mind for as long as he could remember, and because of that he often wondered if it was that very particular teaching that had made him doubt his education regarding demon kind.
And then not long after that one lesson, one Izuku had found himself stumbling upon his home, bloodied, injured, and sporting pointed ears and teeth. A dagger poised in his hand no less.
Shinso had felt no hesitation then, in grabbing his own rusty blade in a firm grip, waiting with baited breath for the creature to pounce in a maddened scramble, full of teeth and claws and a lust for blood.
Except, the creature's widened green eyes didn't seem to hold a single ounce of the fury Shinso had been trained to seek, none of the dark bloodthirstiness from the knights’ tales he’d heard in the taverns, no imposing aura of death that could paralyze and suffocate you on sight, and no attributes indicating that if you didn’t terminate that foul beast as soon as possible you’d only leave an opening to allow yourself to be torn to shreds.
The eyes Shinso saw were the eyes of a tired young boy, looking no older than his own 10 years old self at the time. Eyes of someone who had endured many hardships, and knew the value and worth of the things they could have a hold of in this life.
He looked into a horrible beast's eyes, only to find something terribly human.
Something that looked just like him when he peered into the cracked mirror down the hallway.
Shinso had not been killed that night, far from it. He’d received pleas for help, to let the demonic creature stay at least until dawn and to be able to have a small portion of food before he could then disappear from his life, promising never to be seen again.
After their initial stranged first meeting, and the ensued growing closeness of their foreign bond, the purple haired boy always told himself that he had never, not even for a second, considered turning the demon in while the miserable soul was unconscious in his dining chair, trailing blood over his old and rotting furniture.
But that would be a lie.
He was poor, hungry, and an orphan. His parents had been killed in a demon attack years ago, leaving him alone to fend for himself until he could enlist in the guard and train to be a knight and exert revenge.
That had been Shinso’s plan.
But the tone of voice of the young demon had made him stop- because he’d used that voice one too many times throughout his short life, when he was even younger still and begging passing knights and tavern maidens to help him, to give him whatever scrap of food they had, to point him in the direction of shelter, anything and everything, only to be scoffed at and turned away.
That, and the fact that the demon had no horns.
Which meant he was a half demon, and no one in their right mind would want that kind of relation with such vile creatures.
He’d heard of unpleasant stories- of higher ranked knights who had their disgusting fun, their voices full of pride for themselves and disgust for the demons as they recounted their time spent together to lousy, drunken crowds who had nothing better to do.
But never had anyone kept the aftermath. No one dared to, no one in their right mind would want to.
That half demon was important, somehow.
Shinso back then had schemed throughly, mulling over that bit of information endlessly, but after a week of having Izuku stay with him he threw it all away, resignation coiled into his ribs, but not an ounce of regret at his decision.
One night however, the white haired boy had vanished, and hadn't returned for months, and Shinso had found himself stuck between a cowardly relief that he wouldn't be found out by knights, and the hurt of being left behind so unceremoniously by someone he had trusted to stay. He'd raged between the two before the dread settled in and the thoughts of a dead half demon had taken over his mind.
Before he could spiral further, said half demon showed up again, once more bruised and tired, though not as gravely. Shinso wished to say that their reunion was happy and loving, teary eyed from relief, but the memory he recalled was sour, it being the first time he'd let loose his biting words onto Izuku, uncaring of the damage. Izuku had smiled tightly through it all, eyes brimming with unshed tears as vaguely explained it was just how things were.
And somehow, they just made it work.
Maybe Shinso realized early on just what those periods of time living with Izuku were to him, what they truly meant, but he’d never had the will or strength to externalize the thought.
That someone was using their monthly time as an escapee to talk with him instead of getting the fuck away.
And Shinso, starved, desperate, cruel and selfish, couldn't bring himself to truly part with that precious time, not even as he once again screamed at the half demon to get lost, to run before he reported him, before he killed him himself.
The rusty dagger in his hand had trembled terribly as he'd pointed it at a freckled throat.
“You think too much.”
Abruptly snapping his head back to face a frowning Izuku, Shinso sighed softly before burying himself further into the other's comforting embrace, allowing his sight and his mind to rest finally.
“That's coming from you? Have you forgotten about your mumbling?”
He heard soft laughter above him, and he felt the chest he was laying on move accordingly, the heartbeat only slightly accelerated. Shinso felt the corners of his mouth shift into a half smile, content with the change of direction of his racing mind.
“Seems like we both are messes.”
Wether Izuku truly meant it or not, Shinso thought that the innocent statement couldn't be any more true.
They were indeed two messes, and while Shinso liked to dream, he knew they’d never find normalcy in their respective strangeness. His eyes closed tightly to the point they hurt.
“… are you going away soon?”
Even the wind seemed to still at the question, and it persisted as that for a short eternity, with only the stars to judge the two boys who had dared to judge them back.
“…I'll come back as soon as I can.”
Shinso hefted himself up, and traced a finger down Izuku's forehead, dragging it around and contouring his jawline before finally taking his chin with his hand and tilting it up gently, just as the other had done before to him.
“Because it's the way things are?” He said with faux bite. He'd long accepted things as they were.
Two smaller hands tangled themselves in his purple locks, and pair of turquoise eyes closed themselves as a shaky breath left Izuku's mouth.
“Because it's the way we made it.”
With the moon to witness, they let themselves unite in a slow, gentle kiss, almost as if they weren't kissing at all, as if afraid to move on any further.
Maybe they were.
But it's the way they chose to be.