Work Text:
Yuji lies, draped at the feet of God.
He presents himself in front of a being that he, along with other angels, cannot ever describe through any human language.
He knows what he’s here for. There’s no use in hiding it– he’s in front of God. And even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t feel the need to hide it anyway. He’ll plead guilty for days on end, knowing what he’s done. No one should beg for forgiveness, for simply loving you.
He loves you.
A voice, a loud but gentle voice, reaches down and into Yuji’s ears. It’s like it comes from inside of his head. No other angel or being that walks the earth can hear it, except for him.
“Yuji,” It rings. It nearly lulls him to sleep. “You know what you’re here for.”
“Yes,” He whispers out.
God does not have a face. And if it does, Yuji has never seen it. But God has a voice, and Yuji thinks that God is smiling right now, just by the sound. It’s soothing, makes him feel better about the punishment he’s about to receive. He doesn’t know what God will make him face in light of loving you, but he doesn’t mind. He’ll greet it with open arms. He’ll never regret what he feels for you.
Devotion. It’s all about his devotion to you.
Yuji lets his eyes slip shut, feels as if the warmth of heaven suffocates him slowly, invading all his senses and clouding his mind. All his memories, all his knowledge- it unravels slowly, like a ball of yarn spilling from its place and undoing itself. He’s losing more and more of it, the thin material slipping right out of his very fingers, but at the very end, he sees you.
You don’t slip away.
—
He is everywhere, that boy with pink hair.
You don’t know his name– you’re always too shy or shaken up to ask, but he’s always there. He’s behind you in the grocery line when you find you’re just a little too short to pay for everything, so he covers the rest of it for you. He’s there when your car gets stuck in the snow, using all his strength to help you push it (his strength is inhuman, you find out). He’s there to offer you a bandaid when your finger catches on a piece of metal on the subway, there when you spill a drink all over yourself and stain your white shirt at the diner- he’s the one who saves the day, as always, giving you his jacket to cover up. He was the waiter passing by.
You’re in front of the same diner now, his jacket folded neatly in your hands, carrying the scent of fresh lavender. You washed it with the intention to return it to him as soon as possible, and perhaps, catch his name, talk to him a little bit.
When you step in and greet the hostess, who is quick to get you seated, you blurt out a weak Wait ! and she freezes in her tracks.
“I’m only here to return this,” You start sheepishly, holding the jacket up. “I didn’t get the waiter’s name, but, he’s really tall and… he has pink hair. I think he’s got some beauty marks under his eyes, too,” Your voice shakes from embarrassment, “That’s all I remember.”
The hostess eyes you carefully. “No one that works here has pink hair, I’m sorry.”
“N-No?” You repeat, feeling your inner hope crumble into pieces. You purse your lips and try to think a little harder… maybe it was the lighting that always made his hair come off as pink? Maybe he was actually blond…
But to be pink every time…
“Ah, um- I think he had blond hair, actually, and uh…” You try to recall any other details that could help.
His necklace.
With every encounter you’ve had with the boy, he was always wearing a dainty gold chain around his neck- it always suited him well, in your opinion. It wasn’t tacky or too flashy, and always neatly tucked into his shirts.
“He wore a gold chain, I think,” You add impulsively, a little too unsure of yourself.
“A blond waiter with beauty marks and a gold chain...” She trails off, then looks behind her shoulder to glance over at all the staff working. “I don’t think anyone here fits that description, but I could go and check, if you like.”
“No! That’s fine, no worries! Maybe he was actually a customer and I just– yeah, yeah that’s all. Thank you so much for your time, though!”
You’re chirping at her like a frazzled bird, face heating up and heart racing intensely from the embarrassing encounter. It wasn’t that bad, but you had to take a few deep breaths after you settled into your car, recovering.
Why can’t I find you?
—
Yuji knows. He knows you’re on the search for him.
He sees you peeking about, observing every single face you can when you’re out in public. He watches as you try, time and time again, searching through his jacket pockets to find any sort of identification. He saw, and even laughed to himself a little, when you deep cleaned your washer and dryer in hopes that something spilled from the pockets and got lost in the machines.
No dice.
He was, quite literally, impossible to find. And he knew that very well– no one could seek him out, he had to be the one to find you. He’s not even human, so you’re just out of luck.
Or, perhaps you aren’t.
A few weeks have passed since you tried to find that mysterious boy at the diner, and now that you’ve slowly given up, you’re starting to forget about him. You haven’t seen him around, and you haven’t run into any issues that he could possibly save you from, so both his jacket and your memory of him are tucked far, far away, in the corners of a closet you don’t usually open.
That is until the plastic bags holding all your snacks from your corner store run rip open, and all of your goodies spill out onto the sidewalk. You huff out an aggravated, tired sigh as you crouch to scoop everything up and fit it all into your arms to your best ability.
A pair of hands creep into your vision, soft and clean. They wrap around your items on the floor, and for a second, you think this person is going to steal your stuff and run away.
But you look up, and it's him. It’s that flighty, pink haired boy, beauty marks and gold chain and all.
“It’s you!” You sputter, so excited that your things fall from your grasp and tumble back onto the pavement, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. “You! The boy! From the diner, and the store, and- and–”
You’re so excited that you cut yourself off, a big smiling gracing your features, and you feel so elated, so excited and literally overjoyed, just the sight of him being so close to you makes you feel like you’ve swallowed a vial of sunlight.
Yuji, on the other hand, feels like there are sirens and alarms going off in his head. He’s read about this in a book, he’s sure, and he’s nearly positive that Gojo taught his class what to do in a case like this (which would be considered a worst-case scenario; for you to recognize him). Angels are supposed to make their appearances quick, easy, and harmless. Only a little amount of words should be exchanged, and then they should go, leaving behind no trace for their human to follow.
Angels are supposed to be in Heaven. Really, Yuji should be in Heaven right now, and instead of him being here to help you scoop everything up, it would’ve been a different stranger, a stranger that Yuji propelled to help you. It shouldn’t be him.
But Yuji has been cast down to Earth by God, claiming it’d be better for him, a more hands-on experience. He can’t go back until the higher ups within the angelic hierarchy decide that Yuji has learned his lesson and is suited to guide and protect from the Heavens. It’s harder when you’re so far away, but he’s been able to catch you in difficult moments now that he’s here, in a somewhat human manifestation of himself.
His brain goes blank. He remains silent, but flashes you a smile.
“Uh,” You cough out, surprised by his lack of communication. “Thank you for helping me pick all of this up,” You start, and then Yuji thinks that it counts as a sort of goodbye, so he starts backing away.
“Wait!” You call out unceremoniously, as if he’s already miles away. “I need… can you help me take all of this stuff back home? And- and I have your jacket, still. It’s… yours. Yeah. And- maybe, since you’ve helped me out so much, you’d be okay with dinner? N-not in a date way, I just… really feel the need to pay you back…”
He’s intrigued, to say the least. He’s never heard someone talk and stutter so much before, besides himself, of course.
Truthfully, he doesn’t need the jacket. He doesn’t need the dinner, either– he’s not entirely human, so it’s not like he gets hungry. But you need his help, and, well, isn’t that the point of all of this?
“Okay,” He finally lets out, sounding a little robotic before he clears his throat and tries again, “Yeah, of course. I’d be happy to help.”
You let out a happy hum before guiding him to your apartment, and the entire time that the two of you walk there, he’s quiet. You’re going on and on about how hard you tried to find him, and how it’s so funny that he’s always there whenever you need help. He laughs nervously at that.
When you ask him about his name, he hesitates for too long. Really, he shouldn’t tell you. He thinks he’s crossing some sort of line– he really shouldn’t tell you.
But then again, it would be heinous if an angel lied, right? He can’t just lie to you. That would probably be worse than telling you his name, he thinks.
“Yuji,” He lets out finally, a little too late. “Sorry, I… spaced out. My name is Yuji.”
“Yuji,” You repeat, giving the name a test trial before you happily give him your name in return.
I already know , he wants to say.
He’s quiet when you both reach your home, quiet as you cook dinner, quiet as you pad around your cozy little apartment. Though he throws you a soft, appreciative smile when you give him back his jacket.
This is the most silent he has ever been in his entire life. There’s too much going on in his head, he’s unsure of what to do and of what to say to you, but it feels like he’s only entrenching himself deeper and deeper into his dilemma as he keeps agreeing with you, letting you take the lead. His life as an angel really, really does depend on all of this. If he breaks a rule (God knows how many he’s already broken– literally), this could be his first and last gig.
Yuji’s broken from his thoughts as you set down a plate of food in front of him; supper, he presumes.
Yuji has never eaten anything in his life. He’s an angel, a heavenly being, he doesn’t need to eat, drink, take a leak or a dump, doesn’t get hot or cold, doesn’t feel pain. He’s not human, as much as he may look like one.
And, from your perspective, you just assume he eats slowly. Your eyes are all focused on your plate as you take your fork and eat, missing the way he’s observing your every move to mimic you.
He takes the fork into his fingers, slowly and sort of clumsily, but is forever thankful that you don’t notice. He’s about to give up and just grip the end of a fork like a child would, wrapping a whole fist around it, but he picks up on it just enough to slide by.
Yuji has never eaten anything in his life. But as he takes a bite of your food, some of it spilling off his fork and right back onto his plate, he thinks he understands why humans eat so much, disregarding the fact that they need it to survive.
Your cooking makes him think of a place he’s never been, gives him a feeling he’s truly never felt before. It’s warm– he knows the food is actually warm– but the feeling itself spreads throughout his chest, and it feels like it’s nearly engulfing his heart. It’s almost like he wants to cry, maybe.
He was created and raised in Heaven, and he has never felt something so, so, so… human. To eat. To enjoy food– to enjoy it enough, to eat more. To feel this warmth, this sort of fullness that’s doing good for his heart.
Needless to say, he wolfs down his plate (as politely as he can).
You’re practically over the moon as he shyly asks for seconds, then scarfs it all down quickly before asking if it’s okay to have a little more. And you just nod eagerly, taking his plate and adding some more. Yuji makes a mental note in his head– he really has to tell Megumi and Nobara about how good food is, once he’s back up there.
The both of you finish up and Yuji finally remembers who he is and what he’s here for. He’s only here to protect you– from afar, of course. Dinner with you made him feel like a housemate, like it was a regular, recurring thing.
It’s getting darker and he’s trying to inch closer and closer towards the door, telling you how much he needs to get home, thinks he left the kitchen light on by accident. It’s a little fib, he knows, but he cannot risk this for any longer.
There’s a soft, repetitive pit pat sound that hits your windows, your ceiling, and the walls outside. It’s so gentle that he doesn’t hear it at first, but within seconds, it’s pouring. It’s so rambunctious, it’s like there’s hundreds of people throwing rocks at your building, and when you peek out your window to see how bad the rain is, the street is flooded.
You pull back from the window, looking at Yuji sheepishly. “It’s really bad out there, so, if you want… I mean… you can stay until the rain passes…. I’d hate for you to get caught out there.”
His eyebrows raise.
Is this a test? Is it all a test?
The timing seems a little too coincidental, and if he could, Yuji’d look up at your ceiling (imagining it was God) and give a proper scowl.
He has a difficult time declining all your offers as you smoothen out your sofa, draping blankets and pillows all over to make the space more comfortable for him. You do it silently, eagerly, excited to treat someone who has saved you so many times. He senses it from you, your genuine hospitality and kindness.
It’s getting darker. You can only see the outline of his figure in the living room as you bid him goodnight, tell him to sleep well before you slip into your bedroom.
While Yuji lays on his back, hands folded beneath his head, he cannot help but think about how much the roles have reversed this time.
—
Yuji’s confession reaches you in your sleep, through your dreams.
You’re back at the diner. You’re sitting in a booth, Yuji sitting across from you. He’s adorned in a white gown and golden robe, with a soft, circular glow around his head.
You can’t see yourself, can’t look down at yourself, but you feel a comfortable feeling on your shoulders, your arms. You’re wearing his jacket.
Yuji smiles to himself, eyes avoiding yours as his fingers fumble with an empty straw wrapper.
“I have something to tell you,” He starts quietly.
“Yeah,” You say with disbelief, but your voice comes off as amused. “Yeah. I think you do.”
He doesn’t say anything after that. What he must tell you has already been conveyed.
You think, in your dream, that there’s a lot to unpack. But it’s like Yuji communicates with you silently, slipping his words into your mind until you understand. It almost feels like as soon as the dream began to play out in your mind, you already knew of the secret he carried. It’s a deep-seated knowledge that nearly feels like you’ve been born with it.
The two of you are quiet as your food arrives, as you eat. This time, Yuji doesn’t need to watch and learn from you. He intrinsically knows how to handle a plate, how to eat.
It’s funny, you think, somewhere in the realm of your dream. It’s funny to see Yuji, an angel, fit a huge burger in between his hands, taking a reckless bite. There’s ketchup at the corner of his lips. He doesn’t move very gracefully for an angel.
When the two of you are done, he rests his palms on the table and pushes himself up to stand.
“I have to go now,” He says.
You want to speak up, want to tell him to wait, to stay. But it’s like your mouth is sealed shut, because you can only hear yourself pleading in your mind for him not to leave as you silently watch him slip into the dark corners of your vision. Your heart aches, because you so desperately want to tell him to stay, even just a little bit longer, but you stay quiet.
And just like that, he’s gone. He’s left you again.
The feeling of him leaving shakes you up enough to wake you up. But it’s a peaceful awakening– you're not sweating, gasping, or panicking for air. You simply blink your eyes open, greeted by the rising sun and soft songbirds. He leaves you with a sense of peace and curiosity, as he always has.
You softly step into your hallway, peeking into the living room, checking if he’s there.
He is. He’s up and folding all the blankets you gave him the night before, fluffing your pillows and sorting them neatly on the cushions of your couch.
You make your presence known with a gentle clear of your throat, and he whirls around to meet you. Yuji smiles at you, admiring you in your sleepy state.
“Good morning.”
“Morning,” You croak, eyes landing on his dainty little chain. He sees you focusing on it. You both know what it is.
He’s positive that his message got to you. He coughs and smooths over his shirt before tucking his hands behind himself like a shy schoolboy.
“I have to go now,” He says, again.
This isn’t your dream. This isn’t your dream, so you will yourself to move forward and speak, because you know that you will likely never see him again like this if you let him leave.
It’s a selfish, selfish thing. A human thing.
“You can’t,” You start, reaching forward to hold his arm, but a sudden fear strikes your heart and you let your hand fall. You’re not sure if you can touch him. Yuji’s gaze softens when he sees it.
“I must,” He says simply, though he doesn’t move. He watches your features wash over with some sort of grief, a sort of longing as if he’s already gone, like you’re letting yourself feel it now so that you don’t have to face it later.
“Yuji,” You start again, voice so gentle and tender. The tone of it makes him freeze up, makes him reminiscent of something he has only felt in Heaven. The way you say his name brings him a feeling of prayer, somehow sounding so similar to an angel's whisper of Dear God .
“Stay,” You plead softly.
“Watch over me.” A prayer, he thinks again.
Yuji finds that he cannot deny your request. He is, after all, here on Earth for the sole purpose of protecting you.
—
Living with Yuji by your side is like raising a toddler. It’s teaching him how technology works, telling him the stove is hot, showing him how to use different kitchen utensils. And in return, you learn from him as well. You see light in his eyes, feel kindness from his heart, tenderness in the entirety of his being that is pure, untouched by humanity. He has no hidden motives. There’s nothing that he must keep from you. He’s unabashedly expressive and warm and like a beam of light that resides next to you on your creaky couch.
You give him little lessons about the human world. He shows you unadulterated warmth.
Yuji is filled to the brim with curiosity, and sometimes, you’re nervous that he may burst at the seams. His wonder has a chokehold on him, and on you, too. Everywhere that you take him, he’s pointing things out, asking what certain ads and newspapers and commercials mean. He’s a stranger to pop culture, to history, to the world climate.
You ask him, one day– only slightly irritated by his pestering nature– how come he doesn’t know any of this. You thought that angels may be just as all-knowing as God is; how is it that he has been assigned to keep a human safe, with little to no knowledge on the world a human lives in?
His answer comes out sheepish, almost ashamed. He plays with his napkin, folding it over and pressing it flat. “In Heaven, there’s kinda this idea that- that–” He cuts himself off, biting the inside of his cheek as his hands freeze their movements, like his mind is recalculating.
“There’s this idea that humans live in a tainted world. There is no benefit from learning about it, and I think… I think some angels are afraid that if we learn about it, we will bring that poisoned world into Heaven.”
You only hum in acknowledgment, in understanding. Your heart softens like water being poured over dry, packed up soil, and you feel something unfurl within you. A want, or perhaps more of a need, to show Yuji that mortal life is not all that bad, is planted in you. And despite the obvious gap between you two– a heavenly being and a human, sinful by nature– you’re sure that maybe you can be his beam of light, too.
And so, with your tender heart, you let Yuji pester and question you all he wants. You let him point out things very obviously (and maybe a little bit embarrassingly) out in public, let him peer over your shoulder as you read the news, let him catch up on documentaries and shows that inherently teach him more about the world while you’re gone at work, thus letting him get ahead of you. And when he’s apologetic, you tell him it’s okay, and then the both of you play the media from start to finish again. He never gets tired. Never of the world, of learning, of you.
—
Yuji has learned a plethora of things during his stay with you. Through reading, watching, observing– he’s learned slang, history, gestures, culture; but above all, he has learned that he does not know what love is.
Yuji thought that he knew what love is like. Angels feel love, but it’s different from what he’s seen ever since he came down to earth.
The love that angels carry is the kind that is unwavering, it never dies out, though it is not as intense as the love that Yuji has begun to see. It’s a feeling that every single angel is innately born with– a love for humanity, a love for God. There are no intimate ties or pretty feelings, but it is a love that is known, like an unspoken law. He feels love for you, feels love for people; wants to protect you, guide others, keep everyone safe and keep the peace. That’s what Yuji calls love.
But as Yuji becomes more familiar with human nature and behavior, he cannot help but feel like he’s clueless when it comes to love. He sees relationships, family, small acts of what he thinks is real love occurring between them.
He sees people splitting food in half and into sections to share with others. He sees people with matching bracelets, rings, necklaces. He sees people translating what others are saying so that their loved one can understand. He sees people linking pinkies, sees people on the subway whispering to each other and snickering to themselves, sees children clinging onto their parents. He sees people splayed out on the grass, surrounded by blankets and baskets and plenty of food. He sees true, real, love.
Yuji learns, through time, that he doesn’t know love. Not up close and personal, anyway. He hasn’t felt it, and he knows surely that his love for humanity is not the same type of love that people share amongst the ones they know. It’s different.
So at every waking moment, Yuji tries to see if there is love in the things you do. He watches when you cook, thinks if you’re chopping up the vegetables with love. When you laugh at one of his questions, he wonders if there is love behind it. When you read a book and lean over to him, pointing to a specific line that you think he would like, he wonders, is that love? In the mornings, as he spots the little sticky notes and instructions that you leave for him on the fridge, he asks himself if it is an act of love. There’s a dull itch that resides somewhere in his chest– somewhere that he struggles pinpointing himself– an itch that yearns to know how you love.
He wants to know, and he wants to try.
One evening, after you’ve finished making dinner, the two of you sit across from each other as you eat. Yuji keeps throwing you glances as you munch quietly before leaning over the table and bringing his plate over yours.
Wordlessly, he uses his fork to push some of his food onto your plate.
You freeze, eyes overlooking him.
“Are… are you full?”
He shakes his head before eating more food from his plate. “No. I can’t get full.”
“Then… what’s… what’s this about?”
“I wanted to share with you.”
“Share with me?”
“Yeah.”
You’re utterly confused, eyes flittering from your plate and back up to his face over and over again. He isn’t suppressing a laugh, he doesn’t look guilty as if he’s pulling a funny little prank like the ones he’s seen on your social media.
“There’s more food in the pan, Yuji,” You start, “You didn’t have to give me yours. There’s plenty left… I could’ve gotten some myself.”
You’re missing the point, he thinks.
You clear your throat. “Did you… not like it?”
“No!” He bursts, leaning over the table again, hand reaching out only slightly as if you’ll dissolve away within a matter of seconds. “No– no, I mean, I did like it– I just thought I could share. I thought sharing was nice. A nice thing to do.”
He wants to tell you that he thinks sharing is an act of love, but he bites his tongue and sinks back into his chair.
You smile softly at his words, then give a little hum.
“Thank you, Yuji.”
He looks at you from beneath his lashes, catches the sight of you eating the food that came from his plate. And although his plan didn’t go exactly how he wanted, and the message flew over your head, he thinks this is enough.
—
You and Yuji spend a rainy night inside watching movies and trying out new shows.
The thunder outside is a little muffled as you pick a show, tossing the remote somewhere onto the couch cushion next to you. The entire apartment is dark, save for the flash of lights and images on the TV screen.
The show starts off strong– it introduces the main character, then within a few minutes, shows the character going out for a spunky night and, of course, escalates into a sex scene.
You feel like you’re 16 and watching an explicit scene with your parents. Your eyes avoid the screen and you cough, making it obvious that you’re searching for the remote somewhere in the dark, muttering something about how in-your-face the show is.
But when you glance at Yuji, he’s focused on the screen, confusion and maybe even a little bit of discomfort on his face. He’s quiet, splotches of dark blues and reds reflecting across his face until he finally speaks up, voice soft, “That’s not out of love, is it?”
You turn back to face the screen, eyes locking on one of the characters writhing on the bed.
“Um,” You start, evaluating the situation. “No. It’s- it’s not out of love.”
He gives a gentle hum with a nod before falling quiet again.
You sound far away as you laugh nervously and catch the remote in your hands, fast forwarding the scene till it’s over. The images become blurry to Yuji as he unfocuses, mind caught up in the act of doing things without love being the motive. There’s a newfound awareness that resides in his mind, in his heart, that there are so many things out there that might be lacking love.
He refrains from looking towards you.
He doesn’t want to think about it anymore.
—
Yuji denied it at first. But God is all-knowing, all-seeing.
Yuji loved you just as much as he loved anyone else– he loved everyone. Yet, as the two of you spent more time together, there was just something that rested heavy in the back of his mind that he could not come to terms with. He thought he never would. He thought, maybe, if he tried hard enough, that God would not make him face it either.
It was a feeling. A feeling that grew from that one particular itch in his chest– a feeling that followed him around, crept down his back, up around his neck and mouth until he was at a loss for words whenever he looked at you.
He knew he was in trouble when he spotted his friend, tousled black hair and small golden chain circling around his wrist at the grocery store. Fate is unstoppable.
You had asked Yuji to come grocery shopping with you so that he could pick out what he wanted to eat for the week. He couldn't do anything but agree. But, Yuji thinks that even if he had disagreed, Megumi still would've found him.
While you're looking over your rumpled little grocery list, Yuji swallows the lump in his throat so that his nervousness doesn’t seep through his voice. “How ‘bout I, uh, go get the things I want real quick? I’ll meet you back in the produce section.”
There’s a short silence as you look up from your list and into his eyes, registering what he said. He cuts you off before you can even start, “I won’t take long.”
I’ll come back, I promise.
He thinks he played it off smooth, thinks you won’t notice the way his finger is strung onto his golden chain as he drags it back and forth. You’ve never seen him touch his ‘halo’, ever. You know him too well at this point, and even coming to terms with that fact has your chest swelling with something unspeakable.
“Okay,” Is all you say, soft and tender like you want to tell him you hope he’s okay. Just the tone of your voice has him short circuiting, hesitating to step back and leave you all alone in front of the chips display.
He lingers for a moment, eyes full with an emotion you think might be similar to what blooms in your ribcage. And then he’s backing away, turning around to head off and fetch what he wants, and even though he’s only walking away from you in a grocery store, you can’t help but feel like there’s something more to it. He’s bound to walk away at some point. As you push your cart to the pasta aisle, you really think about how he has been crafted by God and you are not the match for him.
Yuji approaches Megumi a few aisles down, knowing he’d trail off there– an angel’s intuition. He walks towards him with a sort of drag in his step.
“Hey, Megs,” He starts casually, eyeing the boy in human form. Yuji's lips quirk up as he reads over Megumi’s t-shirt.
“Didn’t know you, uh, liked The Cure.”
Megumi clenches his jaw.
“You need to come back.”
Yuji tries playing dumb, eyes scanning over the shelves of food like he’s going to pick something out, like Megumi is an old college friend he happened to cross paths with in the store, like there’s no deeper meaning to the situation. He tries to play dumb like a human does. Megumi thinks, for a second, that Yuji does play the role of a human pretty well.
He wouldn't ever tell him that, though.
“Come back?” Yuji asks lightheartedly, as if the sight of Megumi and his greeting sentence didn't make him feel scared for his life.
It would be one thing if God confronted Yuji on a one-on-one basis. If God were to be the first to move its chess piece, waiting for the move Yuji will make in return.
But God is peering down at Yuji from the other side of the chessboard, beckoning him to start the play. It’s all in Yuji’s hands, now.
Yuji now knows that his inner dilemma regarding you has been cast out into Heaven like it’s some sort of soap opera, similar to the ones he watches with you. He’d feel much better if only God knew- but Megumi knows. And if Megumi knows, then so does Nobara. And if the both of them know, then it’s more than likely that every angel he’s ever brushed past is aware of the situation.
He knows that Megumi has come to save him out of fear. It was Megumi’s choice to touch down on the Earth and track down his best friend to save him before it was too late. And the thought of that, too, made Yuji feel something he’s not sure he’s ever felt before– queasy.
Like heavy goop spun in the center of his stomach slowly, tantalizingly.
“You’ve been here for far too long,” Megumi starts, eyes narrowing, “In that place for too long.”
“ Place ?” Yuji snips back, expression ridden with irritation as Megumi lets the words leave his lips with only a little bit of disgust.
“It’s not just some place, Megs,” Yuji defends.
“It’s my—” Home.
“Your what?” His friend pushes, eyebrows raising to encourage him. He knows that once Yuji says it, his fate is sealed and he’d be pulled away from you forever.
“It’s nothing,” he quickly decides, retracting from his previous statement as his attitude dissolves. “I’ll go back, soon.”
“Soon.”
“Yes, soon,” Yuji says exasperatedly, tired of Megumi pushing him into a confession that would change both your life and his. “I’m going back,” he repeats to reassure Megumi, and maybe to reassure himself as well. If he were to be honest, he hadn’t really thought about when he’d head back to Heaven. He never thought about it after you had asked him to stay.
“Okay,” Megumi says with hesitance, like he doesn’t believe his friend.
And out of spite, he adds, “Don’t go falling for that– that human , Yuji. Come back home.”
Megumi turns on his heel and walks away, rounding the corner of the aisle, and as much as Yuji wants to follow after him and give him the lecture of his life– the they’re different lecture– he knows the boy is already gone. If he wanted to track him down, he’d have to chase him down in Heaven.
At home.
Yuji mentally reminds himself where his home is, where it’s always been, but his heart knows better.
When he catches up with you, seeking you out in the produce section, a sudden feeling of serenity washes over him, gently and slowly as his eyes focus on you. He gets the feeling that it’s okay – it’s okay that God knows, that Megumi knows, that the entirety of Heaven knows that he has overstayed his welcome. Because although the Earth may reject him, and the Heavens will pull with tooth and nail to get him back, you will always be there. You’ll be there– waiting in the produce aisle, picking veggies. You’ll be at home, cooking up something he mentioned he liked. You’ll be at the bookshop, sorting out different books you think might help him in understanding the human world a little more.
Perhaps, you’ll be there, welcoming him with love?
You bring him back to Earth with a soft little hey, almost like you’re shy. Yuji thinks that he can think about all of that later. For now, he can focus on you. He dumps all of the things he said he’d get into the cart as he tries to smoothly, flirtatiously shoot out a “Hey yourself.”
It makes you laugh. Quietly, given that the both of you are in the middle of the store, but you laugh.
And, Yeah, Yuji thinks. Maybe you’ll be there to greet him with love.
—
Time is running out, and Yuji is getting desperate.
He knows that he doesn’t have an actual time limit, knows that there is no specific hour and minute that he must go back to Heaven– but he knows that the longer he drags this out, the more painful his punishment will be. He has strayed from God’s word, from his original purpose, as now his entire life revolves around you, and more recently, loving you.
The boy is torn.
Day in and day out, he shows his love to you in ways he thinks you’ll understand. He’s learned enough from his little observations to try and practice, to convey his feelings for you. His heart is set on you. All he wants is to make that clear.
He’d like to hold your hand more often– and not just when you’re guiding him through a crowd, or leading him to a store. He wants to hold your hand simply because he can. Wants to hold your hand on the couch, in the subway, across the dinner table. And he does. He’s shy at first, looking at you for any sign of discomfort, but he gets his green light and holds your hand. Whenever. Just because he can. Because he wants to.
He shares his food with you (again). Helps you comb your hair. Tries to help you pick which outfit you should wear for a picnic. Offers to carry you when your feet get tired from all that walking and exploring (you’re too shy to take up the offer, so instead, you lean against him completely as you walk and he steadies you). Wipes the crumbs off your lips. Sometimes, he even thinks about picking them off with his own lips– or maybe his tongue? Eats the candy you don’t like, so that you don't have to toss it all away and waste it. Holds both of your hands between his hands when they're cold. Helps you put lotion on your back on the days that you’re especially tired and don't wanna reach. His face gets warm as he does this, your bare back exposed to him as you press a towel to your front and wrap one around your lower body. Gives you space when you ask, and bundles up with you on the couch if you ask.
With every single one of these things, he’s telling you that he loves you. And at first, as he became more responsive, open and touchy, you thought your mind was only playing tricks on you. You thought that he was only mimicking what he saw on TV and what he learned about the world. You only thought he was doing these things to appear more human.
But, he just is. He’s human– or, almost human. He wants to be human enough to be with you.
You realize this tonight, as he helps you brush your hair out after a shower. You were already tired from a stressful day at work, and as you arrived home to Yuji you mumbled that you'd skip dinner and just go to sleep. But he caught you before you could dive into the comfort of your bed, pulling you closer into him as he mumbled into your hair to let him help you take care of yourself.
You were drained, nearly falling asleep in the shower as the warm water kissed your skin, lulling you. It took forever to move– to scrub, to rinse, to clean your hair. A tired part of your heart wanted to ask Yuji for help, but a sensible corner of your mind told you that you probably shouldn't.
Not that you were uncomfortable with the idea, but a part of you was nervous– what would he say, what would he think? Would he think you’re showing him a tainted world, trying to muddle his light by asking him to step in and help? To let this angel see you undressed, touch your bare skin, let you slump against him in the heat.
Lazily, you managed to get clean and turn off the shower.
Yuji hears your muffled voice call for him from the bathroom. He’s a little nervous, perhaps the good kind of nervous, as he approaches the bathroom.
You open the door and it's a little foggy, the heat clouding you both and giving you a little bit of a glow. You smile sheepishly up at him and he can only blush back, a warm feeling sneaking up his spine, over his shoulders and down his chest.
“Can you…” You start, gesturing towards the bottle of pretty scented lotion on the bathroom counter. “Can you help me? And… my hair, too…”
You sound so sleepy. Yuji just wants to wrap you up in his arms and sleep beside you.
He sits you down on the toilet, warming up the cream between his hands before running his palms down your arms, around your shoulders. He notices your towel dropping lower and lower down your chest and makes sure not to look.
He sits on his knees and kneads the lotion onto your legs, making you laugh when he slathers it all over your feet. You apologize for giggling and twitching but then playfully remind him You’re my angel after all, you must look over me . It's not a demand, only some gentle banter, but Yuji thinks (and is too nervous to voice) that he would take care of you regardless. Angel, human, demon– he would watch over you time and time again.
You get up and turn around so that he can help moisturize as much of your upper back as he can, swallowing nervously as your towel slips lower and lower. And before it can travel dangerously low, before he thinks he feels his temperature rising, before he can comment on just exactly how hot the bathroom is (which would be a first– he’s not very sensitive to temperature) you’re weakly skipping into your room to slip on some pajamas.
You're not gone for long, coming back so he can help you with your hair.
The mirror starts clearing up, steam fading away as he carefully runs a comb through the damp strands, careful to not yank on your head and to make sure the bristles don't bite at your ears. You’re reading the back of soap bottle label to keep your thoughts occupied, to keep you from thinking about how nice this is, to keep you from thinking about how much you love this, how much you love him—
Yuji quietly announces that he’s finished, and out of some newfound courage, he circles around to face you and presses a kiss to the top of your head.
The both of you freeze, the moment feeling far too intimate and normal and right, like the two of you belong together.
He steps back, sort of dumbfounded by his own actions, opening his mouth to apologize. He tries to come up with an excuse fast, thinks of playing dumb and telling you he saw it in a movie and thought maybe he should try, as if he doesn't know the meaning behind such an action.
But you only smile bashfully at him, take his hand in yours, and tell him, “Let’s go sleep.”
After all, you knew that he knew what it meant.
—
It’s the first time that Yuji has ever laid in the same bed as you, and it pains him. It pains him because you look so comfortable, clinging onto his arm, and he knows he cannot stay. His little silent love confession earlier had spoken for itself. He knows he can't push it off for any longer, knows that he must reap what he sows. Carefully, he pries you off of himself, stopping his movement for a moment to get one last look at you. And he thinks, well, it wouldn't hurt to do it one more time, right? Since he’s going to face punishment, may as well do it anyway.
Yuji smiles at your sleeping form, leans forward, and kisses the top of your forehead. His voice is cracked and dry as he weakly mutters an I love you against your skin, another confession that’ll reach you in your dream tonight.
He makes his way out of your bedroom and plants himself in the living room, in front of the couch. Yuji kneels, elbows resting on the couch cushions as he shuts his eyes and prays. He prays, and prays, and prays– and then he’s gone.
The living room is quiet, and empty. You’re alone in your apartment again.
And Yuji lies, draped at the feet of God.
—
Yuji confesses, unabashedly, to his creator.
He loves you. He loves you in the way that humans do. He tells God nervously that he loves you in a way that he’s not sure he’s supposed to, but he does, anyway.
And through confession, God is forgiving.
Yuji's not sure what’s going to happen. Truthfully, he doesn’t want to know. He doesn't want to think about it– about his actions, about God, about what’s coming for him. Even if and when (he suspects) he faces pain, he just wants to think about you.
His mind feels muddy and weird and every single memory he has becomes warbled, and he's grabbing at his hair and cradling his head at the feet of God. He’s not sure what's happening, and then, he’s not exactly sure where he is. But his silent wish is granted, because as all these things he knows start fading away, he sees you clearly. He sees you, you, and you, and his heart feels so happy. And he stays happy, even as he feels like he’s tripping and spiraling into some sort of darkness.
It’s dark. He’s quiet. He’s asleep.
Yuji wakes but doesn't open his eyes, tries to think about what's going on. There are clear images and memories of you upfront in his mind, but all of his other memories seem distant and hard to grasp, like an oncoming sneeze that never releases. Flashes of light, of people he thinks he knows… he’s not sure. Scruffy black hair, short and smooth orange hair. Robes, gowns, soft cushioning on the ground that nearly feels like clouds….. he can't put his finger on it.
When he opens his eyes, he’s laying on a couch in a living room. Your living room, he realizes. He scrambles to get up, to situate himself, and when he sees you sleepily creep out of your room, he dashes towards you.
Within seconds, his hands are all over you, awkward and clumsy, unsure of where to stay until you guide them to cup your cheeks. His lips are on yours, and he’s leaning into you so intensely that you have to grab onto his biceps to balance yourself. You sigh into the kiss, happily so.
Everything clicks for him. He knows he’s meant to be here. He’s got this faded idea, some faded memory that regards him being different than you, but he wastes no time to dwell on it now. He can think and talk about it later.
You kiss, and kiss, and kiss, and then kiss some more. He’s devouring you– kissing you slow, then kissing you fast, then peppering kisses all over your face. He’s no longer afraid to try out everything he’s seen.
When he finally pulls away to let the both of you breathe (for some reason, he feels his lungs begging for air– an unfamiliar feeling) you laugh shakily, on the verge of asking him heaps of questions.
But then his stomach rumbles. It rumbles, something that you're sure has never happened before, and Yuji says so naturally like he’s felt it his whole entire life, “God– I’m so hungry.”
The two of you cook, then eat, then kiss some more. He gets up a few times to pee. Later on, he burps shyly into his curled up hand. He tells you he’s a little cold, asks you to come over and let him hold you (for the sake of warming up).
And you know– you know, with all your heart, that he’s yours. He’s yours for forever, for however long the two of you will live.
Later on that night, you thank the Heavens.