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there’s a bag of flaming hot cheetos tucked into the crook of your elbow. while brand spanking new bottles of goldslick vodka and red demonus are cradled in the other.
in all honesty, it’s a little sad how excited you are for tonight, practically bouncing on the tips of your toes and grinning like a mad fool. especially since you’d only just seen leviathan this morning, too. but no matter how much time you spend with him, it’s never enough. and you always find yourself counting the hours till your next planned hang-out.
the moment you had stepped inside the self-proclaimed shut-in’s bedroom, you drowned beneath cobalt blue fluorescents. his place is dark enough to have you tripping over dirty laundry and discarded snack boxes cluttering the floor. while you search through swimming shadows for your best friend.
in the middle of the floor sits a curved television surrounded by bedding pieces, an array of gaming counsels, and a tornado of tangled wires. however, your squinted stare has trained upon the hunched-over form planted in front of the glowing screen. with custom, hot pink, ruri-chan headphones pinning down swooped bangs. and the soundtrack to one of his favorite video games blasts loud enough for you to hear from all the way across the room.
with a grin etched into your cheeks, you plop down right beside leviathan. fuzzy socks and thick sweatpants blocking out the chill of the tiled flooring. his focus remains entirely on the screen, though; oblivious to your arrival. while his thumbs continue to smash against colorful buttons, and a string of curses rolls off a frustrated tongue.
a minute passes, and then another, and yet the demon is still too immersed within a zombie infested world to have noticed your presence yet.
it’s the same thing time and time again. you really should have expected this.
when levi hadn’t responded to your text asking what snacks he’d like for the movie night. nor the one you had sent later on stating that you were heading over soon⸻you should have guessed that he was too busy gaming away. maybe even waited it out by taking that evening shower you were hmm'ing and hah'ing about earlier.
but that just wasn’t the case, and now you’re hoping that he’ll die soon. even if he’s pissed off by the loss, at least you’ll be able to receive some of the attention you’re impatient for then.
you heave a hired sigh, already bored with watching him battle. so while levi bashes in rotted skulls with a nail riddled baseball bat. you’ve decided to occupy yourself with your d.d.d, swiping through the devildom’s equivalent to pinterest. where you save a few pictures of similar looking, edgy, tattooed guys to a folder. enjoying a taste of some demon eye candy.
it’s then that you feel a wave of warm breath fan down your neck, and all of a sudden leviathan and you are cheek to cheek. his eyes are trained on the metallic device clutched within the palm of your hand. looking a little sick to his stomach at the man vacationing on your screen.
“what the hell?” you had startled. hand clutched over your heart, which is recovering from an unexpected jump-start.
“sorry,” your best friend grumbles then, retreating backwards. “you humans scare too easily.”
levi’s lips have twisted into a scowl, it’s the first thing you notice. his bushy brows furrowed in either contempt or confusion⸻you’re not quite sure which yet. but he doesn’t look happy. and when the demon continues to persistently avoid your gaze, that’s when you recognize that something must be up.
“what’s wrong?” you ask. but all levi gives you is this owlish look, blinking through a blank expression. as if he’s not quite sure of the answer himself.
a terse silence follows then while you wait for him to feed you more information. to explain the reasoning behind the almost sickly sheen to his skin. yet instead of replying, his stare has dropped to his hands. which have begun to play with the tattered strings of his worn-out sweatpants.
but despite your moments ago inquiry, you know that if he really wants to open up to you, he will. and if he doesn’t have it in him to, you won’t push it any more. as close as you two have become during your stay in the devildom, he still has his limits and you respect that. secrets are okay sometimes.
it all comes spilling out, though. when leviathan just couldn’t stop himself.
“. . . so, you uh. er, that picture you just saved of that guy⸻is he, like, your ideal type? ph-physically?” he itches the tip of his nose then. a nervous tick of his’.
in all honesty, you had expected him to take longer to voice his thoughts. having just unscrewed the cap of the vodka, your lips kiss the bottle when he’d blurted out the question. “is - is that weird? sorry if it’s weird⸻” you take one last swig before shoving the glass between your thighs again, legs folded around it. while one hand remains wrapped around the neck.
you can’t help but feel a little reluctant to admit the truth. it’s such a cliche to be into the tattooed, dark and handsome bad boy⸻but fuck it, inked skin is such a turn on.
you give a lazy shrug, any how. “yeah, he’s my type.”
maybe you imagined it, but you could have sworn leviathan had pouted at your response. arms coming up to wrap around his stomach, almost defensively so.
the plain black t-shirt he wears hangs off his skinny frame, a few sizes too big. that’s nothing new, though. levi’s always dressed to hide his own body. swallowed up by baggy tops and hoodies when not in the required r.a.d. uniform. but even then, he never wore the suit properly.
the crew-cut collar dips around his neck when he shifts in place, seemingly uncomfortable in his own skin right now. revealing the prominent lines of his collarbones; blushed flesh pretty with a ribbon-like choker wrapped around his throat.
and the crush in you leaps out, fawning over how cute he looks. a giddiness glowing upon your face.
“oh.”
levi had sounded so solemn then, drawing your eyes back up to his own. his cheeks are puffed out with air, face scrunched. and not for the first time, you wonder what’s got him so down all of a sudden. but he refuses to give anything else up. leaving you to flounder in the dark.
you could attempt to imagine what’s going on in that wonderful mind of his, but it’d be impossible to know. it doesn’t matter if you think you’ve managed to figure someone out; there’s no possible way to truly know every intimate detail about a person.
even if you’ve memorized his likes and dislikes like the back of your hand. or know what gets levi excited enough to squeal like a little kid . . . even if you’ve made a playlist dedicated to all his favorite songs, and can sing your heart out to each lyric. things have never been, and will never be black and white. people are enigmas; layered puzzles filled with insecurities and fears. and you know, there will always be a blank page in your book of leviathan.
if he doesn’t want to talk about his feelings though, that’s fine. you’re not pressed.
“okay,” you turn back to face the tv then, where his zombie game sits on pause. and take another sip of pure vodka. “let’s just watch the movie. what’s it called again?” asking about his passions and interests never fails to cheer him up in an instant.
leviathan’s bad mood vanishes like a ghost as a brilliant smile takes over his face. there’s an excited sparkle in his eyes, which are a striking bittersweet orange. the sight makes your stomach flip flop.
he’s so fucking pretty.
the jellyfish ceiling lanterns cast speckles of iridescent light to pepper his cheeks; to highlight the curve of every lash and the silky shine to his hair.
“a silent voice! it’s my all time favorite movie. forever. nothing will ever top its powerful script and beautifully crafted story line⸻”
levi’s practically bouncing in his seat right now. pulling his knees even closer to his chest while his head bobs happily. eyes clenched shut in joyful crescents. cheeks chubbed out in one of the most adorable pictures you’ve ever seen.
“i bet.” you mirror his grin before passing him the demonus. to which he’s quick to oblige, downing a few huge gulps to catch up to you.
a few minutes later, the film is all set up to play. opening with aesthetic pastel imagery and elegant, placid piano music streaming from expensive speakers. you’ve curled into his side, a position that’s become almost natural for you. even though it never fails to spark a near anxiety attack on levi’s end.
whenever you cuddle up to him like this, his brain ceases all function, heart throttled upward into his throat. with your head tucked against his shoulder, body swaddled in one of his collectable fandom blankets⸻you’re a constant distraction for him.
when you’re this close, you’re the only thing he can seem to focus on. even while watching his favorite anime’s and music videos. and that, that says a fucking lot.
you wrap your arms around his bicep, trying to get as comfortable as possible. knowing that you won’t be able to move for at least two hours now because movie nights with leviathan mean limited bathroom or snack breaks, and absolutely zero talking. unless it involves your best friend’s random cast and production trivia. or when he just needs to make some weird, compulsive, squeal-type noise whenever he gets too excited over one of the characters.
those are the strict rules. there are no exceptions.
that’s why you had almost gone into shock when levi abruptly cut into some dialogue at the beginning of the story. craning his neck to look down at you, and for once managing to maintain some semblance of eye-contact.
“hey, i have an idea.” he had winced when his voice cracked. you quirk an eyebrow while he nabs up the remote and hits pause. “if you, uhm, want to. i have some markers⸻i was just thinking that you could, i don’t know . . . dr-draw on me.”
with an almost frantic nature, he observes you. soaking up every single tick your face makes. from the quirk of your lips upward, to the flutter of your lashes, and the swoop of your bangs falling in front of your eyes. he watches with intent, anxiously so. afraid to see anything that might suggest you hated the idea.
and so, so, so fucking terrified that you might have realized the true intentions behind his spontaneous offer. but levi just couldn’t get that picture of the smoking hot, tattooed, leather jacket wearing bad boy out of his head.
the model was burned into his brain, taunting him. and although leviathan knows he could never, ever compete⸻being the exact opposite of what you had said was your ideal type⸻he feels this incessant need to at least try.
to try and get you to see him as something other than just the hermit and best friend.
but despite his many claims of being proud of it, he can’t help but feel insecure just being himself⸻a yucky otaku. especially when around anyone else; his brothers, regular demons, the celestials, and you. compared to the others, he’s nothing short of pathetic. levi feels so fucking worthless all the time and he doesn’t know how to fix it. how to change.
and no matter how much you assure him that he’s perfect the way he is, leviathan won’t believe it. he can’t. there’s no way you could actually mean that. not when he’s still just . . . him.
an anxious shut in.
a sorry excuse for a demon.
a fucking loser.
but just for tonight, he wants to pretend that you love him. even if he has to play the part of someone else.
per usual, levi’s been over-thinking his every word, his entire being, and fretting about. worrying if you think he’s weird(er) now, or if you’ve found him out for what he truly is. all while you’d given a simple shrug before climbing up from the floor, blanket slipping down your shoulders.
you let out a short-lived yawn before responding: “that actually sounds like a lot of fun. where are the markers?”
“there should be some in the top left door of my desk.”
you turn on the lights on your way over, following his directions and plucking out a black inked sharpie. however, when you had returned to the other, you expected him to extend out a wrist, or maybe the whole arm. but instead, levi hooks his fingers around the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head.
being this exposed before you, the embarrassment is feverish; scorching hot along the back of leviathan’s neck, the bulbs of his cheeks, and the tips of his ears. every part of him feels lit aflame. palms slicked with sweat, to which he wipes them off on his thighs out of nervousness.
but despite the terrible, awful anxiety that’s consumed him entirely; stopped his heart as it blares red sirens in his skull. leviathan forces a shy smile and braves through all of his insecurities for you.
he pats the spot behind him, coaxing you to come closer. you scooch over, eyeing his slumped form. more than a little surprised he’s comfortable enough around you to go shirtless. even though in the past, he’s insisted on covering up completely even at the beach.
but you’re not about to complain. not now, nor ever.
levi doesn’t wait for you to say anything else but instead un-pauses the screen. hoping to drown out the internal, negative voices incessantly going off on him by watching his new favorite animated film. and by downing the red demonus you’d gifted him as if he’s dehydrated and it’s the first drink of water he’s had in months.
his dumb brain keeps telling him he’s ugly, and whispers about how disgusted you probably are seeing him like this. so frail, thin, and weak. and even though the merry tune smothered against your tongue says otherwise, the voices won’t leave him alone. they never do.
but there’s nothing he can do now.
he has to do this. in hopes that you might finally see him in the way he’s so desperate for you to. that you might, by some miracle, realize that what you’ve been searching for has been right in front of you the entire time. and you’ve just been too blind to see it.
maybe it’s the alcohol coursing through him, warping his sense of reason. or maybe he’s just that painfully in love with you he’s willing to try anything. everything. either way, levi bites down hard on his tongue. clenches his jaw and forces his focus back onto the tv. fingernails digging harshly into the skin of his palms.
leviathan has to do this. all for a maybe.
even though he can’t see you anymore, his body is acutely aware of your every move. the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as your eyes trace along the bumps of his spine, then trail upwards again to the hunch of his shoulders. grazing the outline of his ribs that poke through almost translucent looking skin.
and then, there’s the cold, wet sensation of the first touch of ink to his flesh.
the movie passes by in a blur, and although you agree, it was a beautifully tragic story about love and loss. you could only remember bits and pieces of it; too focused on the task at hand to pay proper attention. doodling in a trance-like state over the expanse of leviathan’s soft, porcelain skin.
having taken inspiration from the aquatic themed bedroom, you drew sharks, jellyfish, mermaids, and koi. getting up half-way through to go find a blue and purple marker to accent the plain onyx lines. then you proceeded to highlight shimmering scales and delicate, furled fins. by the time the lengthy movie had ended, leviathan’s torso had transformed into an ocean of not-so-shabbily drawn sea creatures.
capping the sharpies, you admire your work. “i think all of those art classes finally paid off.”
“lol, i hope so.”
his chuckle is deep and raspy after having been quiet for so long. and like magic, flowers bloom within your chest. the affect this boy has on you⸻you swear to diavolo you’ll die of a feels overload one of these days. and it will all be because of a certain purple haired demon.
this is the most you’ve ever seen of him, and if you’re being honest⸻the most intimate you two have ever been, as well. and you’ll say it again: inked skin is such a turn on, and leviathan looks hot. if you could gather your courage, you’d make out with him this very second. take his lip between your teeth and scatter kisses all along your own artwork.
when you reach out then, fingers ghosting along the markings, leviathan inhales sharply. stiffening. your touch sends shivers coursing up his spine and he’s quick to swivel around to face you. brushing off the brash action with a wobbly grin.
while you had forgotten all about the bottle of vodka you’d brought with you; levi’s chugged right through his demonus. clearly a little tipsy as of this moment, if the droopy eye-lids and his face being painted in pink says anything. he even hiccups, peering over at you through long lashes.
“did you. did you, uhm, like the movie?” the slurred question comes out almost like an afterthought. as if, for once, his interests are the last thing on his mind.
at first, you’re slow to nod your head. and then you snap back into reality. swift to compliment the film so he doesn’t grow disappointed: “yeah, yeah. it was heartbreaking.”
“right? it really, really hits you where it hurts!”
levi’s head lolls then, nerves washed down with the red liquor. and if it hadn’t been for the poison filtering through his veins, he never would of spoken his mind so boldly now. but drunk words are honest thoughts.
“so. am i, er, your ideal type now?”
“what?”
“yo-you said you like guys with tattoos, right? well . . . i kind of, sort of⸻shit” he’d blanked for a moment, struggling to re-collect his thoughts. “you inked me. so am i hot now?”
you squint his way, allowing yourself a moment to process. that’s the reason he’d asked you to draw on him?
“wait, wait, wait. lmao, of course you don’t like me. i don’t know what i was thinking.” leviathan flops down then. with gentle hands, you ease his head up from the hard floor and into a more comfortable position upon your lap.
a gash of a frown mars his face as leviathan continues to stress: “i don’t even own a leather jacket.” your reflection in his orange eyes has become glossed over; a far off, hopeless expression contorting his features.
it’s hard not to hate how miserable he sounds.
you don’t fail to realize that this goes beyond not owning a leather jacket, or having sexy tattoos. the way levi views himself has never sat right with you, and it makes you all the more heartbroken to have to listen to him beat himself up.
leviathan lets out a muffled whimper. turning over, he buries his face into your thigh and grabs onto your hand. he begins to absently play with the decorative rings slipped over your fingers then. and he seems particularly obsessed with the fan ring he gave you, some kpop band name engraved into the silver.
“you’d never like a yucky otaku like me, (m/c). you’re so perfect that it’s probably insulting for me to even think about having a chance with you.” he mumbles, only clinging onto you tighter. “i know you could never see me like that. but, lol, like a fucking loser i keep hoping you will anyway.”
you press your lips together, biting back a mournful sigh. wishing he’d just shut the fuck up already. because you can’t stand to hear him talk so highly of you and so poorly of himself in the same breath.
but you’re not sure what to say. what could you even tell leviathan to fix eons of self-hatred? to convince him that he is lovable. that he’s not pathetic, or yucky, or a loser in any sense of the word.
that you love him more and more with every random fact he blurts out of excitement. when you’re the first person he thinks of showing off his new merch to. and with each second you spend at his side, playing video games, binge watching his favorite anime’s. and gorging yourselves on so much junk food and alcohol it’s sinful. you fall harder for him.
that your favorite memories of the devildom all coincidentally involve the shy, geek of a demon that’s currently drunk in your lap. on the verge of tears as he unabashedly spills his feelings for you.
although your tongue has failed you, you begin to tenderly comb back his bangs. brushing them to the side so you can get a clear view of his handsome face. with a pin prick to your heart and an ache in your throat; you lean over to press a kiss to his temple.
leviathan’s eyes drift closed then. a listless, melancholic twinge of a smile to shape his mouth. and you have no doubt that when he awakes tomorrow morning, he’ll have forgotten all about this moment. considering all the demonus he’s consumed tonight.
but he snuggles even closer to you. squeezing your hand as a yawn parts his pretty pink lips.
“ . . . you couldn’t ever love me like i love you.”
“i already do.” you whispered back.