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Denji wakes up gasping for breath, his hands grasping the sheets tightly and his whole body trembling. His mind hasn’t awoken fully yet, so he still sees blood and hasn’t shaken off the feeling of being smothered.
He hears a distant voice, and for a moment he thinks he’s still dreaming, and he’s in danger. But in his dream his hands were the ones covered in blood, and the screams were coming from underneath him. Familiar voices.
Voices that were drowning his own cries for help.
His adrenaline-driven brain screams for him to get out of that situation and without much thought he lifts his right hand towards his chest, ready to pull the string and attack, to try and save? Kill? To stop it.
But before he can transform, he registers his surroundings, and realizes that his hands are dry, and that there is no one beneath him, just a futon.
“Denji, are you ok?”
His breath is still ragged, and his muscles are still tensed but he feels himself relax at the sight of Yoshida. The other boy probably woke up with the sound of Denji’s movements. The look in his eyes is almost the same as always, dark, but Denji can sense a tinge of worry in them as well, and he almost chuckles when he notices the bedhead he’s sporting, so out of place with the cool and composed image Yoshida usually presents to the world.
“Yeah,” He responds after calming his breath, feeling his mouth dry.
Yoshida hums and Denji closes his eyes, mild embarrassment replacing the panic that’s still simmering inside his body.
Yoshida started staying in Denji’s and Nayuta’s place a week ago. The reason being that Denji started having nightmares that would wake him up feeling such terror that in multiple occasions he almost transformed in front of the girl. Apart from the imminent danger of doing that while cuddling with her, neither of them were getting enough sleep and were exhausted all the time.
It didn’t take long before Yoshida noticed something was wrong.
And being the meddling stalker that he was, he offered to sleep next to Denji so Nayuta could rest in the other room, and Yoshida could calm Denji down. At first the blond boy refused, mainly because he felt a weird feeling around Yoshida, like he was plotting things behind Denji’s back, and just couldn’t comprehend what was his fixation with him, and the second reason being that he dreaded the thought of Nayuta sleeping by herself.
More like, dreaded the thought of him sleeping alone.
Yoshida didn’t offer to sleep in the same futon, and Denji knew it was because the taller boy didn’t want to overstep his boundaries. But it was true that sleeping next to each other helped. Usually, Yoshida would calm Denji down and reassure him that he’s not in danger at the moment, and after some minutes of Yoshida checking that he’s not panicking anymore, they would fall back asleep.
Denji is surprised that Yoshida is still there. Aside from his job, Yoshida has no logical reason to endure the pain that must be being awakened several times through the night.
Denji opens his eyes and finds Yoshida staring at him. He feels that funny sensation inside him, like curiosity mixed with irritation. He coughs and takes the cup of water he keeps next to him, the cold liquid soothing his aching throat and calming his nerves. Then, he looks back at Yoshida, and notices the start of purple eyebags in contrast to his pale face, proof that Denji’s night terrors are taking a toll on the dark-haired boy, even if every morning he lies and tells him that he’s been through worst things.
A glimpse of Aki passes through Denji’s mind, startling him, his dark hair tousled and his eyebags prominent. A memory of the first days after Power moved in with them and they didn’t know how to co-exist in the same apartment. He feels a lump in his throat, so he drinks another gulp of water and places the cup back to its place.
But, even with the water, the sensation doesn’t subdue.
“Why are you still here?”
The question leaves his lips before he can register it. A question that has been on his mind for some time, every time he looked at Yoshida’s face, trying to read his eyes and expression, trying to understand the other boy’s motivations and intentions towards him.
Why do you care?
He could have limited himself to watching Denji from afar, intervening only when Denji would do something stupid. But instead, he was all up in Denji’s business, always following him and acting like he knew things Denji didn’t. But it was convenient, the way Yoshida would offer to pay for some of Denji’s meals, or look out for Nayuta, or even cook them breakfast sometimes.
But it felt intrusive. It felt all too familiar.
“What do you mean? It’s my job.” He grins, like he always does, avoiding dangerous questions and topics.
Denji is tired of it.
“Stop.”
“Huh?” For the first time in a while Yoshida looks genuinely surprised, his mask falling for a moment. Denji has no strength to feel pride for it though.
He’s tired. So tired. Tired of not sleeping soundly, tired of not feeling like the Chainsaw Man that everyone adores, tired of being haunted by ghosts he can’t even fight, tired of being reminded of those that he cannot reach anymore through Yoshida’s actions.
“All of it, stop.”
The implications of Denji’s words hit Yoshida and they look at each other for a few seconds, both aware of the weight of the conversation they’ve been avoiding. The tension hangs heavy in the air, and even with the moonlight being the only source of light, the two boys can see each others puzzled expressions well.
“Why?” Yoshida’s voice sounds so small that Denji is now the surprised one. Seeing Yoshida, who’s strong and reserved, who carries himself like he has everything figured out, asking for a reason to stop being close to someone like Denji is baffling.
But Denji knows exactly why. Dwelling in his feelings is something he doesn’t enjoy doing. It prevents him from enjoying the things he didn’t have before, like a good meal, a warm bed, someone to hold while sleeping. But the nightmares remind him of the things he’s avoiding.
The memories he tries so hard to avoid.
Yoshida is a living reminder of that. Of what he had and was taken away from him.
He shouldn’t have it, doesn't deserve it. He’s fine with taking care of Nayuta, of providing her with all the things he was denied once. Because he knows how nice it is to be taken care of, to be hold.
“It’ll kill you.” He responds, and before he can stop it, a few stray tears slide down his face. He doesn’t sob, or fully cry, he doesn’t have enough energy. He just wants a good night sleep, but he feels like he might puke.
Yoshida seems to think for a moment, and suddenly stands up, startling Denji. He’s leaving, he thinks, and it should bring relief, but instead it makes the lump in his throat grow, and his hands are shaking, moving slightly towards his large frame.
He’s leaving. He repeats inside his mind, and then, who’s going to cook Nayuta’s breakfast tomorrow then?
But Yoshida doesn’t leave, instead he approaches Denji’s futon and slides next to him. The warmth of the other boy’s body makes him wake up from his stupor and look at him with confusion and mild anger.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He growls, trying to move far from the other boy without leaving the futon.
Yoshida smiles, and Denji notices that it’s not his regular shit-eating grin, this one is softer, smaller, and much more intimate. The anger leaves him slowly, exhaustion compelling him to not put any more stress on his body, and Yoshida waits patiently, reading the blond's physical language.
They avoid each other’s eyes, both a little scared of the situation, of the implications. But despite feeling weird, Denji also feels calm, after being upset for most of the night, the presence of the other boy is no longer distressing.
He jumps a little when he feels a hand on his face, stroking his cheek softly. He looks at Yoshida’s eyes. They used to annoy him, they were too dark, too unreadable, and they gave the impression that Yoshida was someone cold, perhaps cruel. But now, those same eyes looked like the night sky, vast. They’re still scary, but not to Denji.
He kind of sees himself on those eyes, his reflection.
“I want to stay.”
It’s merely a whisper, but it hits harder than a punch in the face. Denji clenches his fists and sighs, he wants to hit him, to call him an idiot. To scream 'You’re going to die, it’s not a joke!'. Not as an empty threat, but because he believes it, how can he not?
How can he forget when every night he dreams of it?
Instead, he closes his eyes.
“That’s your choice then.” He grumbles. He feels Yoshida’s breath against his face when he laughs and decides to ignore it.
Without another word, he feels Yoshida’s arms surround him tentatively, and at first his body makes a futile attempt to shrug him off, but exhaustion sinks into his bones, and he simply stops struggling, sinking into the welcoming heat of the dark-haired boy’s body. He feels light, warm and a little sleepy.
Safe.
He doesn’t even flinch when he feels the soft pressure of Yoshida’s lips on his own. His brain doesn't panic, it just feels loved. He lets himself be kissed and hugged, liking the feeling of someone holding him and caressing him like he’s something precious, like he doesn’t have blood on his hands.
He guesses Yoshida is not exactly in a position to judge him.
He knows there’s something haunting and unsettling about the taller boy, but he’s not a coward. If having him allows Denji to feel warm and calm, if it allows him the feeling of being held by someone that isn’t afraid or using him, he can handle it.
He can take it. That’s his choice.
They fall asleep like that, and for the first time in a while, Denji doesn’t have any more nightmares for the rest of the night.