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Angel wishes they could meet with Aki on better terms.
“I’m sorry,” they tell him, eyes scrunched closed and fingers twisted together in front of their chest. Their clothes are dirty and torn, and they know that they are a sorry sight. If they were not already aware of their own appearance, it would be evident enough by the startled gasp that leaves Aki’s lips at the sight of them.
“What happened to you?” Aki asks, a little too frantic, hands coming up from their place at his side to grasp gently at Angel’s elbows. His eyes roam Angel’s body from head to toe, then he pauses, and asks again, “who did this to you?”
At this, Angel huffs a laugh, shaking their head. They meet Aki’s eyes, noting the worry within them, and give a one-shouldered shrug in response to his questioning. There is not much to say, really. They both know what happened to Angel. Or, at least, Aki can guess the cause easily enough, Angel knows.
“Angel,” Aki says, a bit testily.
“Aki,” Angel mocks, rolling their eyes, but it isn’t out of aggravation. They don’t want to have to say it; they don’t want to have to watch as Aki’s eyes dim, as the guilt eats away at him from the inside. Angel would rather shoulder the pain themself than to watch as Aki tries, and fails, to come up with a solution to their problem. After all, it isn’t Aki’s fault that they were born a devil, is it?
“You could fight back,” Aki begins, but even he knows that Angel could never do that. “I could say something to the townspeople. If I say something, they might leave you alone.”
“What would you say?” they laugh, shaking their head. All at once, they’re too tired to hold themself up, and Angel lets themself fall into Aki’s chest. He’s quick to fold his arms around Angel’s back, digging his face into their hair and breathing in deeply. “The townspeople adore you, and they trust you endlessly, but it's your word against the teachings of the Church. You’ll never win that battle. Not in a million years, and never with any sort of logic.”
“Still,” he argues, but they both know anything that follows would just be comprised of empty words. Aki quiets down, and Angel regrets coming to see him. Their regret isn’t born out of hatred, or even anything remotely similar to it; rather, Angel feels themself swimming in the guilt of indulging in the comfort that Aki so readily supplies. If Aki had never taken Angel in, then they would still be wandering in the forest, lost and alone, seeking purpose. They love Aki, and they know he loves them, too, but sometimes love just isn’t enough, Angel thinks.
Angel wants to say something self-degrading like, ‘It’d be better if I left,’ or ‘You never should’ve offered me a place in your heart,’ but saying that would only carve a deep wound into Aki’s chest, and Angel could never bring themself to hurt the only friend they’ve ever had. Instead, they twist and dig their fingers into the thin fabric of Aki’s shirt and soak up the warmth of his chest into their bones.
“Let me clean your wounds, at least,” Aki finally says. His words are mumbled into the top of Angel’s head, made nearly incomprehensible through their thick vermillion hair, but Angel has only ever had ears for Aki, so it hardly matters.
Angel shakes their head in response. The movement forces their cheek to press up against Aki’s sternum, and they leave their ear crushed against his chest in favor of counting the beats of his heart. Their rhythmic beat lulls Angel into a sense of security, and their voice is thin and idle when they say, “it doesn’t make any sense to clean them. They’ll heal on their own soon enough. Devil, remember?”
“Of course, I remember,” Aki’s chest rumbles as he speaks, and Angel almost forgets to listen to his words as he continues to say, “I still want to help you with them. Devil or not, your wounds still hurt you, Angel, and I don’t like to see you in pain.”
“Ah,” is all Angel has to say in response to something like that.
Aki must take the noise as confirmation, though, because he’s pulling out of Angel’s embrace far too soon. Despite Angel’s best efforts at maintaining their fierce grip on Aki’s shirt, Aki easily peels their hands away. They’re placated, though, when Aki twists his fingers in between Angel’s own. Aki’s hands are warm, soft despite their callouses, and Angel has to choke down the emotions rising in their chest as they stare down at the sight of their own fingers interlocking with Aki’s.
Their fingers are thinner and shorter than Aki’s, but Angel likes to think that their fingers look like they belong in the spaces between Aki’s own.
Using their interlocked hands, Aki pulls Angel gently through the house and towards his bedroom. It’s a path that Angel has walked a hundred times before, but they always feel a little jolt of something, every time, at the thought that Aki is so willing to let them into his life. Angel stays the night more often than not, seeing as they have nowhere else to go, but lately it’s been too hard to sleep under the same roof as Aki and think about the whispers of the townspeople that follow them.
It isn’t fair that Angel loves Aki, and Aki loves Angel, but at the cost of Aki’s entire life. It’s the one thing keeping them from being together, truly, Angel knows. And it is not of Aki’s fault, either; Angel knows that he would burn down bridges and ostracize himself from the town if it meant remaining by Angel’s side. If Angel would only let him.
They never would, though.
Aki’s hands are gentle as they push Angel to sit on the edge of his bed. At some time, from point A to point B, Aki had gathered a bundle of gauze into his free hand. He sets the bundle down next to Angel’s left hip as he leans in to press a tender, fleeting kiss to Angel’s temple.
“I’ll be back,” he tells them, brushing a few vermillion strands behind their ear with a steady hand. His hand lingers, briefly, while he says, “it’ll only take a moment.”
He’s gone before Angel can process his words, still chasing the feeling of his lips on their skin.
It isn’t long before Aki returns, a bucket of water in one hand and a fresh, clean cloth held in the other. Angel still sits where he had left them, and Angel doesn’t miss the fleeting signs of relief that pass over Aki’s expression. The knowledge that Aki had been worried that Angel would leave behind his back sends a sharp pang through their chest, but they keep their expression neutral. They don’t allow their expression to change when Aki drops to his knees in front of them, either. Angel doesn’t even bat an eye when Aki drops the cloth into the bucket of water, and then uses his newly freed hand to pry Angel’s knees apart so that he can move in even closer.
“Let me see your hands first,” Aki demands more than asks, holding out his left hand impatiently. When Angel does as he requested, laying their right hand into his left, Aki takes the now-wet cloth and swipes it gently over the beading cuts. It doesn’t hurt, not really, but the motion is done with so much unintentional kindness that Angel flinches anyway.
“Ah,” Aki says, softly. “Sorry.”
Angel shakes their head, and then hooks their gaze on the junction between Aki’s neck and shoulder, saying, “it didn’t hurt. You can keep going.”
Aki might’ve looked like he wanted to say more, judging from the way his throat bobs, but he must decide against it, because Angel feels more than sees as Aki goes back to cleaning their wounds. They weren’t lying when they said it didn’t hurt, but it does sting. They don’t flinch again, though. Not at the risk of Aki stopping his tender ministrations.
It goes on for a while, longer than Angel had expected, and they find themself dozing off while Aki gently cleans out their cuts. He keeps a steady, comforting rhythm through it all, and he even lets out a few comforting hums as he moves from one area to another. Angel finds themself hoping that nobody else in the world is ever granted the opportunity to experience this side of Aki; the Aki that is loving and gentle, and oh-so generous with his touch. The Aki that comforts Angel, a being who never should’ve been granted the knowledge of how tender the love of a human could be. The Aki that should be Angel’s alone to cherish and adore.
Or so Angel wishes could be the case.
Angel is roused from their light doze as Aki’s hands land on their thighs, squeezing his body in closer to Angel’s own. Their eyes open to see Aki’s own blue eyes locking onto theirs, but they don’t tense up at the fact. Rather, Angel drops their head until their forehead bumps softly into Aki’s own, noses brushing against each other with the proximity.
“Hey,” Angel says, and even that simple word feels all too heavy in the condensed space between their mouth and Aki’s lips. All at once, Angel is aware of just how close they are to kissing Aki. If they wanted to, if they moved even a fraction of an inch, their lips would slide against his own. And, God, they wanted. They wanted it enough to praise a God who had forsaken them long ago; they wanted to feel their own lips pressing against Aki’s so bad that they would prostrate themselves before the Church if it meant having Aki in that way, even just once.
“Angel,” Aki sounds as though he is close to begging, and it is in this moment that Angel really, truly recognizes the fact that Aki loves them. He always had, and it has always been obvious. Angel has known, of course, that Aki loves them; the question has always been whether Aki loves them more than he loves everything else combined. Maybe it never should’ve been a question at all.
Angel gives in.
The hot press of Aki’s mouth against their own is unexpected as much as it is desired. Angel had never thought too deeply into how it would feel to kiss Aki; they had only dreamed and desired and craved the act of it. The idea of the love behind it. Now, though, Angel knows that if they had let their mind wander into such uncharted territory, then their expectations would have been blown out of the water.
Aki kisses like a man starved; everything about him is screaming more, more, more. His breath leaves his nose in heavy bursts as he surges up into Angel’s space. They barely have a chance to register the feel of his lips against his own before he is pressing for more; he leaves his left hand to grip at Angel’s thigh while his right hand rises to rest against the curve of Angel’s jaw, angling Angel’s head to slot their lips more properly against his own.
Not to be outdone, Angel digs their fingers harshly into the hair at the back of Aki’s head. The movement has him stuttering, thrown off pace, and Angel uses that momentum to bring their other hand up to clasp Aki at the base of his throat and push him away. He starts to resist, wanting to push back towards Angel, but they yank his hair, and he settles down, allowing them to gain a few centimeters of distance between them.
“Breathe,” Angel demands, but the harsh tone is softened by the way Angel swipes the pad of their thumb across Aki’s glistening bottom lip. Aki’s chest is heaving, burdened by the denial of oxygen for so long, but the possessive spirit in Angel preens at the sight. The leave their thumb pressing against the plush fat of Aki’s bottom lip, fixating on the feeling of Aki’s warm breaths hitting their skin.
“Angel,” Aki says, like it’s the only word he knows how to speak. Then, again, “Angel.”
“I know,” Angel replies, and they do. They’re overwhelmed, too. If devils needed oxygen, Angel is sure that they would be gasping for air. The love they feel for Aki is constricting their organs; Angel can feel their body collapsing beneath the force of their need to have Aki as close to them as possible.
“Angel,” Aki stresses, breathing finally coming back under his control. “I love you.”
“I know,” Angel says, again, and leans in to brush their lips very gently against Aki’s own. Their voice is gentle, only for Aki’s ears to hear, as they say, “I love you, too."