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His dad, murderer, Enji is dead. Ashes at Touya’s feet. The last of the embers have faded, but the azure fire still burns beneath his skin. Proof that Touya is alive. Not for much longer.
He glares at the remains.
If Enji was a better father, it wouldn’t have come to this. His oldest son wouldn’t have made a deal with the devil—a heart for the power to surpass his mortal coil.
“Get it over with,” Touya says. He holds onto false arrogance on the off-chance that Hawks won’t notice the tremor in his step as he turns around.
Hawks’ eyes widen, a comedy dressed as innocence. “Woah, do you really think I’m that insufferable?”
Touya’s attention flickers to the unnatural, red feather that falls near Hawks’ feet, then back to the smoked yellow of his eyes.
“Like you aren’t going to draw out my suffering. You’re a demon.”
“Ouch,” Hawks says, but he’s grinning, so Touya’s accusation definitely doesn’t bother him. It makes him feel weirdly self-conscious that Hawks seems bemused, as if Touya is just a yapping chihuahua.
To a demon? Likely.
Hawks flexes his wings, autumnal feathers framing the wild tufts of blond that look enticingly soft. Touya has to look away; the demon’s audaciousness ever-present in those shiny vanes are too similar to an old friend’s.
Touya hears the rustle of impatient wings as Hawks calls out, “Well? Are you going to just stand there? I promise I won't scratch.”
Touya lifts his eyes. A taloned hand is outstretched, beckoning him. It’s not enough to take his heart—this demon asks him to actively jump to his death as well? Touya stares at the leathery palm offered.
Hawks snorts. “I know it doesn’t look like a human hand, but it isn’t gonna bite you.”
Touya isn’t so sure about that.
He reluctantly takes Hawks’ hand. It’s as rough as he expects it to be and makes a sharp contrast around Touya’s pale hand. Touya’s breath hitches as the boy—demon—made of mocking snickers and unruly grins cradles his hand like it is precious glass, smiling softly for reasons he can’t comprehend.
“Ready for take off?” Hawks asks.
So he can move on from Hawks’ nonsensical smile, Touya decides that Hawks must feel the pulse of his food or whatever demons want hearts for, and that's why he is happy.
“Excuse me?”
Hawks flexes his wings before Touya is hoisted off his feet. He clings onto Hawks’ shoulders as the world shifts around him. His protests are lost to the sky rushing past, ears ringing, feet dangling with no safety net beneath.
This is it. A blip in the sky, then a red splatter on Musutafu’s streets.
He’s gonna miss Fuyumi, Natsuo—Shouto, who he was never even allowed to know. Now he won’t ever know.
Traces of Shouto’s scarred face flash like heavy thunder.
His snow-lily mother cracked with veins poking through the petals.
Latent scars on his shoulders.
The gasp of Fuyumi’s ice and Natsuo’s fleeting hope.
The man that made them all, dead.
His eyes burn red with the force that he keeps them open, enduring the pain to summon all the bravery he wants to feel in the face of death.
For their sakes, he had promised.
He looks up at the face of his double-edged messiah, killer, Hawks. Golden eyes and red feathers taunt him with blurry memories of an old, imaginary friend. He itches with anger at the demon’s desecration. But then Hawks meets his glare and smiles, bespelling Touya’s indignation away, sweeping everything aside except for this boy with the sun in his hair and morning glories in his grins.
He mentally kicks himself. Hawks is a demon.
“Touya—” It’s Hawks’ voice, but oddly clear despite the wind turbulence. Oh, right, the psychic demon magic. “We’re landing soon, okay? It might be a little bumpy.”
Bumpy doesn’t even begin to describe their descent. Touya’s stomach turns on itself with loud supplications for a swift death. The taste of vomit crawls up his mouth with a thousand tiny legs that make him gag. He buries his head into Hawks, unrepentantly hoping he throws up on the demon.
Touya chokes on those thoughts as his guts slam into his side. He hears apologies chanted into his hair and attempts to lift his head. It bobs and frays with dizziness that he has to blink away.
When he notices the only thing moving is the insides of his ears, he squirms unhappily in Hawks’ arms.
“Let go of me,” he complains.
Indiscernible gold studies him. He glares back.
Hawks abruptly smiles and releases him. Touya experiences relief for about a second before he’s scrambling for balance. Vertigo, he swears. It has him reeling until a cool touch brushes across his temples, taking it away with presumably unholy methodology.
He pushes away from Hawks and finally looks around. The first thing he notices is the warm string of lights that break the drape of the starless eve. They hang from twine wrapped around a leafy archway above Touya; they shine upon the rest of the entrance lined with pots of saturated plants.
Further in, more twine and lights run between ivory half walls. Vines with red buds crawl all over, too perfect in its messiness. There are more pots of plants and shrubbery—all well-tended to—that make the roof seem cozy. The demon passes him and walks to a table for two with lit candles and a plate of pasta set out in the middle.
A rooftop garden? Sounds like the perfect place to burn. He lets a wry smile slip.
“Gotta love the romantic backdrop to my death,” Touya drawls, approaching the table set out for his murder with weary steps.
Hawks’ eyes widen by a fraction. “Death?”
He shakes his head, amused by the demon’s apparent confusion. “My heart for your assistance was the deal. Humans can’t live without their hearts.”
Hawks stares. He slowly tilts his head down as his body begins to shake. Touya ends up asking if he’s alright before remembering that Hawks is a demon. Of course he’s alright, Touya berates himself. Hawks just laughs even harder.
“I knew you were a sweetheart the moment I met you,” Hawks says.
“I asked you to kill my dad when we met,” Touya deadpans.
Hawks’ expression wavers, something on his mind that he won’t say.
Touya scowls. “You’re gonna kill me anyway, so you might as well spit it out,” he snaps, sick of demons with evasive words and confusing intentions.
Poppyseed yellow falters as red wings flutter lightly. Upset. “I’m not going to kill you, Touya,” Hawks insists with a soft, glass-like expression.
Cool nails brush against his cheek. Touya is caught by Hawks’s gaze as he draws closer, until frost touches his lips and—oh, Hawks is kissing him, Touya thinks faintly. Well, that’s something he didn’t expect.
When they part, Hawks asks, “Go out on a date with me?”
Utterly dazed by this golden ray boy, it takes several moments before Touya processes his question.
“But—your heart?”
Hawks squeezes his hand with a smile.
“Right here.”