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“Suehiro.”
The name is spoken with far more grandiosity than deserved. As if it were the name of an individual who carried a weight with their words– or a rhythm to their stride. He knows this is not true. He senses it. Ergo, such a name is not worth being spoken of so impressively. Jouno hasn’t even met this ‘Suehiro’, yet the name causes the corners of his lips to wind downwards into a frown.
Quite frankly, he’s bitter , and he doesn’t know why. To be forced into communication with mortal folk, that was a hassle in itself. But, to have to do so whilst not even having heard of the devil’s name before– it seems humiliatory. Who is Saigiku Jouno to be dealing with such trivial and insignificant beings such as this? He’s not surprised however, he knows they’re still upset with him. Wary, perhaps. He knows they’re testing the waters with this, as to prove he will not repeat previous affairs.
“Not a full name? How am I supposed to do anything with only a last name? Suehiro .” He repeats the name of the fiend as if it were acid on his tongue, his wings stretching out against the artificial wall he stood against.
They were a beautiful blend of gold and predominantly white, they were radiant, and speckled with a hint of red that matched the warm tips of his hair. If you squinted, however, one may notice the slight ruffle of feathers that came with a constant state of annoyance.
“Oh would you be quiet , Saigiku.” The seraphim snaps.
“Is this really the level of competence you’ve struck me down to?” Jouno queries, a feigned disappointment in his tone as his attention drifts to that of his nails, rubbing his fingers over a chipped one in half dismay.
“We told you before, your previous incident will always be accounted for.”
“My previous incident was not wholly a fault of mine–”
“But it was you who failed your job ultimately, no? Underestimating your own capabilities against humankind because of your incessant and selfish desire to–”
“Speak of something else before I tune you out.” Jouno scoffs, almost offended at the surge of audacity he mentally declares he’s been met with.
“For an angel with as sharp hearing as yourself, it sure is selective. ”
“I know you, that is enough practice.”
“Very funny.”
Jouno quietens, for only a moment, brow furrowed as he threads his fingers through his hair in the sudden thought that overwhelms him. There’s a quick switch in his demeanour though, demonstrated by the half smile he can’t help to not conceal when he turns his head to the angel that lingers beside him.
“A full name, please?” He queries, at last.
“What does it amount to you?”
“Quite a bit! I’m very fond of parading an individual’s name around as if it were their head upon a stick.” Jouno muses.
“Will you please? ”
“A name?” He offers a half shrug in response.
“ Tecchou Suehiro.”
With this, Jouno rubs his hands together in the anticipation that exceeds his composure.
“Thank you, I’m sure it should be nothing of real concern, but I’ll check since my generosity is just so unwavering.”
“And your sarcasm is pushing it. Consider how you will choose to present yourself ever so wisely, please.”
“Of course, who do you take me for?”
“We don’t need anymore attention drawn to you after last time.”
“I don’t need your persistent reminders, hinder someone else!” He waves a hand in half dismissal, and half goodbye as he takes his leave.
Upon leaving, Jouno finds himself planted amongst a vast wave of people ; his first complaint. And then, that off-putting, hellish presence overwhelms his senses; his second complaint. It’s nothing a mortal would recognise independently, perhaps that unnamed gut feeling, the feeling that does not cause your stomach to drop, but pushes against the confines of the human mind. Not far enough to cause discomfort, not enough for it to be raised, but enough for a shift in atmosphere that makes someone think twice. A hunch. A hunch that is never considered to be, for its ambiguity.
Jouno tugs at the inside of his sleeve with his spare hand, excited ambition soon turning to irritation as it had been before. He’d never been one to maintain a positive demeanour towards whatever he felt was an inevitable reality. Reflexively, Jouno comes to shield his closed eyes that strain in the bright natural light that begins to plague him, unsure if the oncoming migraine would be to do with the presence of a devil, or the sun itself.
Scratching his head, he almost considers a full recount of the given situation, before he hears it.
“How peculiar..”
Shoving through the great congress of idiots, Jouno remains attentive to the thud of a heartbeat that beats so artificially. It beats lazily, if without purpose, unbeknownst on how to really act. Jouno feels the way he is spared a glance of recognition when he ends up a fair few feet behind the demon. He considers the form that is taken by this Tecchou Suehiro; it is not so telling as they usually are. From what he can gather during his stalkerish pursuit, the man possesses the common sense to, quite impressively, veil his ambience as a demon to the extent of which Jouno almost struggles to sense him.
All of a sudden, the demon makes a beeline for a narrow side alley, and Jouno realises perhaps not with means of escape, though rather confrontation without exit; further meaning, Jouno is likely to be met with hostility. The angel hears the way a shopping bag hangs loosely from the man’s wrist, the plastic crinkling and fluttering with the way it hits his side as he continues down the small passage.
The other man hardly registers the great crack to his spine until he hits the floor with a sharp thud, only then feeling the heel of the angel’s boot digging into his back as he’s knocked back down upon a reflexive attempt of standing.
“Oh grocery shopping,” there’s a cheerful lilt to the angel’s voice as he twists his heel further into the fiend’s back, clearly deceptive in reality– they are both aware of that dishonesty that hangs in the air as uncomfortably as Jouno wished it would, “I love that!”
It’s almost mocking actually, to have kicked the poor sod so greatly that such a measly human body could not simply keep up, and then to then label a devil’s doing as “grocery shopping”. It was as if he was being watered down by the angel. Tecchou expected no less, and what’s worse, is the pathetic sputter he manages in retort, gaping at the spots of blood that drip from his face onto the pavement beneath him.
“Go on then, don’t be shy, tell me your name!” He muses, swinging his arms out in a great gesture of expectancy as if he didn’t already know the answer.
This blissful curiosity is met, however, with a slight hesitancy from Tecchou– a hesitancy that warrants the way the angel’s lips pull into a wide grin of which he chooses not to conceal, an amusement glistening in his saintly guise. There’s a duplicity that comes with this warm expression, though. Tecchou simply cannot place his finger on what . Let alone, even, whatever need is there for such a divinity in living form to be deceiving of?
“Uff, I’m sure you know, angel.” The hellspawn only then realises how irregularly taut his voice is, and the fog that clouds his mind, and vision– and then his shoulders sag, the realisation of his tenseness having occurred to him, and oh, the pain in his chest that darts through his body in a sharp wave as he threatens to move. How could he forget the added strain that comes with this kind of body?
Despite its damaged quality, there’s a softness to the man’s voice that isn’t present in Jouno’s. Dulcet tones that contrast with his standing as a demon, not quite deceiving either. Jouno would perhaps find them homely, if not home to someone such as the man he was speaking to.
“Oh I’m so sorry, are you allergic to formal introductions? This was not brought to my attention!” Jouno steps back, feigning apology as he waves his hands dismissively.
“Tecchou Suehiro. Was attempting to break my back part of your formal introduction, or—”
“Well! Tecchou is a wonderful name, meaning to imply an ‘iron stomach’, I believe. But, how ironic considering your physical state!” He laughs, having ignored Tecchou’s comment as he draws nearer to bend over the man who stiffens in his position on the floor.
Humming, he scoffs, cutting himself off to spare the other man the space he likely desires. It allows Tecchou to readjust, and the short silence grants him the liberty of finally setting his gaze upon the figure before him.
“Not much for humour, then, are you Tecchou Suehiro? That’s quite alright, I’m Jouno , as the courtesy goes.”
The following silence feels like a slap to the face, an insult to Jouno’s so sincere attunement to the brune’s situation.
“So, how bored are you, demon?” There’s a sternness in his voice, but a curiosity that Tecchou can pick out beneath the haze that envelopes him.
“Oh, plenty bored, I’m just minding my own business and here you are, sent to smite me.” Tecchou puffs his chest out, scowling at the angel, who scoffs at his retort.
“How rudely interpreted, and rather dramatic.” Jouno declares. “Such a lack of humanity you display, for what feigns the position of a human being– how atypical, and irritating. Do better next time, hellspawn.”
“Hm.”
Jouno puffed out his cheeks before his expression fell to a pout– not with the danger that might have come, but with the irritation that confirmed his suspicions, meaning his stay was to be far longer than intended.
“Want a medal, angel?” Tecchou deadpans, before scrambling to his feet to avoid the harsh slap that would follow such a jab.
Now, he stands tall above the angel, who he has in fact only just considered the height of. In fact, only now does he consider Jouno’s appearance. It would seem as though he did not present himself ‘wisely’. Or atleast, in the discreet, frankly boring manner he was expected to. Tecchou watches as the angel adjusts the collar of the silk shirt that lay upon his shoulders. The shirt is embellished with a variety of subtle patterns– though almost off white in colour, with the silk material it sits nicely. A light, gold necklace, sits around his neck and over a darker turtleneck that sits beneath, complimenting the gold bell earring that hangs from his ear. Jouno had considered a jacket initially, though casted the idea aside. Who was he to dress for the weather?
“The way you speak sounds awfully akin to the tone of an individual whom wishes to be shot back down to Hell, don’t you think?”
“Don’t be so dull. I think you’re being very unfair for someone who paints himself to be an angel.” Now having stood, he assesses himself fully, rubbing his palm over a reddened cheek that had hit the concrete first, “Actually, ouch? Couldn’t have negotiated with me beforehand?.”
“I didn’t know you were the type to negotiate.”
“I’m not, but that hurt.”
Tecchou’s complaints continue– but Jouno, however, grins before beginning to sway dramatically on his feet, and he thrusts a fist to the air before falling to his knees in great fashion, interrupting the devil’s barrage of issues.
“Oh heavenly Father, blessed is the one whose transgressions are forgiven thus I implore you– Lord, hand me your forbearance! I will not resent your rebuke! How apologetic I am for causing such turmoil to this Earthly being!” Jouno’s mockery fills the air, so suffocatingly that the silence that is Tecchou’s utter disbelief is so quickly followed by Jouno’s next request as his tone shifts. “Shut up, demon.”
Tecchou does so. He does so, and his jaw stiffens with even the concept of retorting anymore. He’s not afraid. Never has he been. What Tecchou doesn’t want, however, is to deal with such a bitter excuse of an unearthly being as the one he’s been met with today. He was only grocery shopping, after all.
“Now, what is it you suppose we do with you?” Jouno makes a steeple of his fingers, grinning through his hands.
“So kind of you to give me the choice.”
“Oh I know.” He beams.
“You never even told me your given name.”
Jouno ignores this, scoffing as he stiffens in stature.
“Well, you don’t have to.” Tecchou half shrugs, finally brushing himself off of the dirt that had accumulated upon the hoodie he’d thrown on, and then having the audacity to walk past the angel as if to make his leave, to which Jouno stops him by speaking again.
“Saigiku.” He says, plainly.
“I’ve heard of you.” Tecchou nods, turning to face the angel again.
“Everyone’s heard of me.” Jouno makes light of, disavowing the reasons why.
“You’re the guy who–”
“Enough, now.”
Jouno cuts the man off so simply, shoving a finger to his lips as if to stop him from continuing anyways. And then, it’s as if Jouno can hear the mechanics of Tecchou’s brain, rusted and striving for some kind of friction that would allow them to work. Unfortunately, said created friction was not worthy of the inch of time Jouno had given the other to think.
“How about you let me stay here–” Tecchou concludes.
“No.”
The answer is simple, abrupt.
“I do not care for negotiation.” Jouno chooses to add, however, as if itching for further conversation.
“Yes you do,” Tecchou decides, leaning in towards the other as if the idea was a secret between the two of them, “stay here for a while.”
It’s playful, almost. Jouno hates it.
“What?” Jouno takes a half-step back, as if to demonstrate how utterly bemused he is by such a question– he almost laughs even, “Why on Earth would I do that?”
“I have a feeling they don’t like you very much up there.” The brune points upwards, emphasising his point.
“Who are you to make assumptions like this?” Jouno frowns, arms crossed over his chest, almost defensively so.
“I’m right, you can go back if you want though.”
Jouno doesn’t spare the moment he’d usually take to contemplate his answer in full– to contemplate it rationally . His response is uttered so simply that even Tecchou does a double take, knowing the way in which such a response could backfire onto Jouno . Tecchou is sure Jouno knows this, too. Jouno thinks– perhaps, perhaps, he doesn’t want to think rationally for once . Maybe he wants to live, just for once , without thinking of the strict confinements he must abide by.
“Entertain me, then.” He says.
“We’ll have to take the subway, then.” Tecchou says, sweeping the discarded shopping bag up off of the floor as he scoops the contents back inside.
“What is it you have in there anyways that you could possibly even need–” Jouno asks, though almost makes a statement of– as if to poke fun at Tecchou’s immortality and how unnecessary such a thing as grocery shopping would have been, but he instead switches his focal point to the sentence Tecchou had given him itself, quirking an eyebrow as he speaks again, “and what do you mean by that?”
“The subway?” Tecchou pulls the handles of the bag into one hand as it hangs at his side, fixing his gaze on what was Jouno’s utter perplexity.
“What?”
“You’re joking.” Tecchou laughs this time, warranting a punch to the shoulder of which he hadn’t anticipated.
Jouno scoffs at this, offended, that his apparent ignorance was apparently so otherworldly that the assumption went that he was joking. Worst part being in fact, Tecchou had laughed at him. The audacity behind such a gesture.
“Well, come on then, I’d love to see you navigate the subway station independently.”
Before Jouno could grumble anything rather blasphemous under his breath, he’s found following behind the brune– before he considers it. And then he really considers it. No, he won’t just follow this man around, he’ll walk beside him. They’re not equals by any means, Jouno has no respect for such a creature as Tecchou Suehiro, but he decides that he will grace the man with his effervescent presence, and perhaps entertain the idea of an ‘outing’. An outing, that’s it. It is part of his job, of course, which will soon become a representative of his dominion over Tecchou soon enough– he’s sure.
What harm could the slightest of self indulgence be to anyone?
—
“You didn’t say it was this far of a walk.”
Tecchou stops upon hearing this, eyebrows furrowed as he almost laughs at such a statement, he couldn’t fathom how a man with such little cordiality was ever dubbed an angel . He finds it amusing, nonetheless.
“I’m sorry I don’t know how to explain normal things to someone like you.”
“What does that mean?” He’s almost offended by the remark.
The brune shrugs at this, as if a reasoning should have been obvious– someone like Jouno in reference to the angel’s ineptness within the current environment. To not know the subway was enough for Tecchou to almost pity the man for the little liberties he had.
“Well you’re weird, aren’t you?” Tecchou offers.
Jouno however, ignores Tecchou this time; they’d almost arrived without slaughtering each other, his attempt was not about to be wasted. Though, Jouno stops walking for a moment, rubbing his palms into his eyes, and Tecchou shoves his hands into his front pockets.
“You keep doing that.”
If Jouno’s eyes were open, Tecchou knows he would’ve seen the man roll them in exasperation.
“The light’s just irritating.” Is all Jouno says.
Then, it clicks with Tecchou. He frowns. Jouno’s closing his eyes as he has no better means of shielding his eyes because he’s blind . The light perception he does possess must have been bugging him for the entirety of the time they’d been there. Whilst Tecchou wonders why the other hadn’t uttered a word, he’s no less surprised as he draws a pair of round lensed sunglasses from his pocket, before shoving them onto Jouno’s face and jabbing the bridge to his nose as to fix them in place. Jouno reflexively cringes at this, nose scrunching up as he moves backwards in the slightest, again considers Tecchou’s incessant desire to just do things without communicating.
“What?” Jouno relents.
“The light hurts your eyes? Doesn’t that help?” Tecchou’s sure Jouno can just sense the grin that sets his expression alight.
Jouno’s bitter, actually. Bitter that Tecchou was the one to suggest something, something that wasn’t so unintelligent as to have Jouno drill a hole in the side of the man’s head. And also, he’s bitter that the suggestion worked.
“It does,” the words are almost quietened, as if Jouno can’t bear to embrace the instance where Tecchou is in fact not wrong, “stop doing things without telling me.”
“A thank you would be nice.”
“Shut up.” Jouno adjusts the glasses upon his nose himself, as if to emphasise Tecchou’s futility, before setting off again as Tecchou finally leads him down to the subway itself.
Jouno’s hand snatches away from the cold, chipped metal handrail that had led him down the stairs, and a surge of truly terribly conditioned air washes over the two of them, and Jouno’s nose scrunches up in disgust. The aroma of mixed perfumes and tainted air combined with chatter, the prompts throughout the station on loudspeaker and sundry other things. He’s simply too caught up in the repugnant air of the place to properly gauge where he then stood after being handed a ticket by Tecchou, to then be so promptly snapped out of his musing with the sudden whir of air through the narrow cavity that shot through his ears as the subway train arrived.
Jolting forwards, Jouno is promptly shoved onto the closest carriage by Tecchou, who follows behind. The angel scoffs at the audacity behind such a shove as he then is left to consider how suffocating it is. He’s almost glad to not be a victim of the sight of torn seats, and the sickly figures that stand together so closely like sardines in a tin can– similarly devoid of any life that painted them to be individuals worth caring for. The man can’t help but almost glare at the contiguous souls.
There is little to no space, and Jouno is quite unfortunately not spared from the smell , like he is the sight .
“Put your hand up.” Tecchou urges, tugging on the hand loop above the two of them.
“What?” Jouno frets, now, admittedly more on edge than he imagined he would have been.
“Physics.”
The reply that leaves Tecchou is nothing that Jouno wouldn’t meet with an eyeroll, and the brune almost senses this distaste up until he finally wraps his fingers around the worn plastic of the hand loops, that chip away even in his grasp. A ‘ding’ of a bell sounds out as he hears the doors shut, and he rocks forwards slightly as the train begins to move. Tecchou observes the poor lighting of the particular cart the two had entered, a flicker that reduces those around them into a total blackness as their figures falter.
There’s a certain silence to the journey that lands Jouno in unease yet again, hence the slightest relief he believes is fuelled only by the way Tecchou breaks this silence. Not by voice however, instead by the rustling that is the other man’s rummaging through the grocery bag, only to pull out a bag of chips.
“Why would you get a shopping bag just for a bag of chips?” Jouno scoffs.
“Wanted to feel the part.” Tecchou shrugs as he replies, muffled by a mouthful of chips.
“Of course you did.” The angel’s tone is almost vacant of the snideness it usually possesses for once, and Tecchou manages to grin at the fact as if it were an achievement.
“We’re off here, just get off when it stops.” He hums, in that now, ever so familiar low voice.
Before Jouno can open his mouth and reiterate Tecchou’s prompt, the other man speaks in place, as if having anticipated the angel’s query.
“Yeah, get off.” Tecchou ushers with a hand.
Jouno however, slips his hand from the loop a half-second too early , eyes cracking open in the jolt that was the train screeching to a halt; not only nearly maiming his hearing, but jerking him forwards too. As he anticipates a both painful yet more significantly mortifying smack to the floor– an arm hauls him back up by the waist as he’s simultaneously guided off the grim carriage, and almost masterfully so. The man hardly registers the regaining of his balance until he’s aware of the way Tecchou stands behind him, his arm– around Jouno’s waist. There’s almost a charm to the way the demon so artfully seized the opportunity, until of course, his arm is shoved away hardly after a moment of it ever being there as an offer of support in the first place.
“Off.” Jouno scolds, cautioning the man as if he were a dog.
“You’re very welcome.” Tecchou quips, but in that same dry tone that Jouno despises as he leads the two out of the station, disposing of the bag in a sidebin, though he stops for that of a half second when Jouno speaks again.
“Thank you.” There’s a genuinity behind the sarcasm that Jouno paints his words in, and Tecchou revels in it.
—
“Absolutely not .” Jouno protests the idea of venturing to a club so adamantly, though not enough to have shattered Tecchou’s proposal.
“You’re very lonely, Jouno.”
“Mind what falls from that tongue of yours, demon,” he snaps in quick retort, jabbing a finger into the man’s chest, “besides, you seem to forget who I am, and what governs my actions.”
“Governs is a very strange word to use in this context.”
“Well, for lack of a better word–” Jouno starts.
“What’s one night to you?”
The taller man shrugs, taking a step forward as to emphasise his intended entrance. Those words however, repeat so vividly in Jouno’s mind as his lips part as if to protest– though for no retort to leave.
What’s one night to me?
He ponders. A peculiar question. What does one night amount to? Whilst not to his liking, it was an experience , a liberty never handed to him as it was now. To not do anything would be a waste. Impeding his entry anymore would have him thinking too much. There’s almost a fretfulness in the way Jouno scoffs, now, much to Tecchou’s surprise, stepping ahead of him as he enters the establishment with as much self-faith as he could muster. Tecchou follows only a step behind, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he watches the environment envelope Jouno in full– likely negatively so, but Jouno’s face remains too unwavering; perhaps out of shock, even.
The dreaded place itself – which is only what Jouno shall call it, because it cannot possibly be a ‘club’, as from what he’s read, clubs are fun , the atmosphere is lively, and there is music that does not promise the mutilation of his hearing like it does here – is awful . It smells of sweat, and alcohol. Perhaps worse. He can feel the lights stabbing through his closed eyes, having shot through his glasses already. It seems almost second nature for these people to worm out of reality and behave like animals, though perhaps such a zoo-like approach is intended.
He hadn’t even noticed the way Tecchou had briefly slipped away until he appears at Jouno’s side again, having acquired a drink for himself as he eyes the shorter man.
“You look miserable.” Tecchou’s voice concludes, blurring into the mess of noise that Jouno is plagued by.
“Oh, I wonder .” He snarks, though does not spend a moment to isolate himself from the other man, in fact he practically strengthens their proximity out of fear of losing the other man.
“Bastard.” He snatches the glass from Tecchou’s hand, and Tecchou watches in fascination as Jouno so readily knocks the glass back, taking far too big of a mouthful for his liking, hissing as he at once considers whether he is to cough the drink up and drench the brune in his own misery, or to swallow it and face the consequences– he chooses the latter.
Tecchou does not once lift a finger to aid Jouno, whose face scrunches up in disgust as he shakes his head, shoving the drink back into Tecchou’s chest.
“Not your favourite then.”
“I implore of you to die .” Jouno retorts.
“Aw, and leave you here now?” This, warrants a punch to the shoulder, that he’s sure if Jouno wasn’t so utterly repulsed by the environment would be one right to the face instead.
Something, however, urges the angel’s second attempt, as he asks for the drink again before taking a smaller, yet no less burning swig of the revolting beverage.
“Get me one.” Perhaps it would take the edge off of such an utterly gross atmosphere.
Tecchou quirks an eyebrow at this, suppressing a laugh as he tugs on Jouno’s sleeve as if to prompt the shorter man to follow closely behind as he leads him to the bar, promptly ordering a drink for the angel.
“It’s my pleasure.” Tecchou muses, drumming his fingers on the bar table as he awaits a very unlikely ‘thank you’.
The other, of course, ignores him as he turns away, taking a whiff of the drink first as if it were a puzzle. This newly founded ignorance towards such a thing is nearly insulting, and every time he takes a sip it is only out of spite for that ignorance– and oh, does Tecchou relish in the expressions the angel offers each time he does so. Jouno had found however, that each sip became more bearable than the last, and he’d argue that he might have begun to enjoy the drink– perhaps he would have admitted so if the lingering thought of whether it was okay didn’t linger so heavily in the back of his mind. The bourbon however begins to soften this concern, earning him a confidence he didn’t know he was capable of.
Later, Jouno finds himself still not accustomed to the loudness, his ‘grand scheme’ not having worked as intended, maybe even having a reverse effect with the way he rubs his temples.
“Are we going soon?”
“You really don’t like it?” Tecchou doesn’t expect a word of reply, for he understands regardless– the question was almost rhetorical, and he accepts so as he ushers the man forwards with a hand pushed to Jouno’s lower back, “Head out, then, it’s nicer out back anyways.”
It’s most certainly dark now as they enter up onto a wooden patio, that likely, seeing as they left through the backdoor, is restricted to staff only– no matter. Jouno only wonders what time it is. That ever so awful music is still present, though quietened bearably so now. It’s cold outside, but almost refreshingly– he’s quick to note how the cool air bites at his now slightly flushed cheeks however. It’s almost pleasant. In fact, he’s actually quite appreciative, almost, and it truly irks him, such a thought.
“So,” Tecchou decides to pry again as he almost did when they first met, “that guy you killed? Maths teacher?”
Jouno doesn’t have the care to dismiss the topic anymore, it’s idle conversation that would be forgotten in due course regardless, “Yeah.”
“Why’d you do it?”
The question is spoken in mock curiosity that Jouno can’t help but grin at the genuine intrigue that pulls at the tone of Tecchou’s words.
“Clearly I don’t like maths.” He says, simply.
They both share a laugh, one that Jouno doesn’t cut short for once.
“How’d you kill him?”
A pause.
“I’m supposed to say he fell, someone grovelled on my behalf.” He inhales sharply when he considers how that certain someone might respond to his absence.
“I didn’t imagine you were the type to have people who tolerate you that much, I’m happy for you.” Tecchou says.
“She doesn’t tolerate me. She’s more akin to an old lady I’ve been forced to play bingo with so many times that she’s come to pity me and my predicaments.”
“Oh the plot thickens, from friends to family .”
Ignoring this jab, he quietens, but there’s a persistent humming in the back of his mind, urging him to speak , to free his thoughts for once and let them slip from his tongue as easily as the thoughts themselve should form. The silence is comfortable, tranquil– nothing he hates, but Jouno’s thoughts for the first time fumble over this silence, and they yearn for him to speak , for him to speak something of truth that he needn’t hide beneath such a strict veil anymore. And he does.
“I hate whenever you open your mouth, Tecchou.”
It’s the first time Jouno’s actually used Tecchou’s given name without that jeering lilt to it. He clicks his tongue, noting Tecchou’s silence that clearly serves as an indication of the brune’s interest– that he’s listening .
“I like your voice, and I like what you say on occasion– but I hate you .”
Another pause.
“I should hate you.” There’s almost a rigidness to his words, as if something is asking him not to speak, but he can’t help himself as he almost trails off.
What is one night to him?
“But you don’t?” Tecchou picks up.
Anybody not paying enough attention would decide that Jouno had nearly laughed, but Tecchou recalls the sigh that follows, one of what the brune interprets as something close to exasperation instead. It’s strange, this response, and he can’t quite decipher it as usual. In fact, he hardly registers the hands that so ungracefully cup his cheeks, all too ignorant to his predicament as he’s pulled level with the angel, whose lips soon press against his own. He understood it was coming from the start, but there’s not even a moment where Tecchou is able to comprehend the kiss, until Jouno pulls away from him– and Tecchou finds himself ever so woeful of the way he’s engulfed by the shock of the moment, and he soon aches again for the strange warmth he’d been handed so abruptly. Part of him wishes he was able to wallow in the instant a second more.
As Jouno stands back, his lips part with an audible click, with no words to follow however. His mind goes numb, for a moment. Should he apologise? Was there a quintessential way to go about what comes next? He hasn’t even considered how Tecchou would feel. When he finally does speak as to break the silence that drills holes into the side of his head, there is no appropriate couth to his response at all.
“I don’t think I was drunk enough for that.”
“Well, now—” Tecchou starts.
“Shut your mouth, you—” he fumbles over his words as the heat that dusts his cheeks rushes to his head, “you fiend .”
“Not sure if I should give you a pat on the shoulder for that conclusion or not.”
He feels bad . Bad for Tecchou , none other. The way Tecchou’s gaze hangs over him isn’t overwhelming either, it feels sympathetic almost. Jouno hates it. Why would he be sympathetic? They’re not supposed to do that. There was no way to erase what had transpired– he felt guilty, and he felt sick . "I need a drink." A sharp inhale urges Jouno to turn on his heel to grab the handle albeit almost shaking as he swings it open, paying no mind to the man he leaves outside.
“You said you didn’t like it inside–”
Perhaps, this was not quite the ideal venture that Tecchou imagined it would’ve been for the angel.
Only vaguely does Jouno recall the onslaught that ensues– that is, how he so lazily, and no less uncomfortably than before hunches over the bar table and drinks; he was more than sure half of this consumption were the drinks of strangers whom simply hadn’t the mind to pay attention anymore, lost not dissimilarly to him. Then– he remembers, through the fog of it all, having stumbled to the bathrooms of the clamorous place, sinking down against the wall upon realising the way his knees had faltered in simultaneity with the way his heart thudded so tremendously against his chest. There was a suffocation that accompanied how utterly nauseated as he sat, his brain funnelling to him every irrational outcome he could fathom.
—
Jouno is certain that every muscle in his body had just rejected the very action of simply sitting up on the mattress he had a moment before nearly felt glued to as he rubs his palms into his eyes, a wave of nausea rushing up to the back of his throat where he swallows all too dryly. And when he stands, then does he feel the balloon of pressure that builds up in his skull, threatening to burst and send him to the floor with the waver it causes in his stance. He doesn’t even have the mind to contemplate where he is as he exits the room, passing through a hallway that entered into a kitchen.
“Morning, thought you died, honestly.”
Jouno drags a hand down the side of his face as dramatically as he could manage with the fatigue that wrings him out so thoroughly. He knew Tecchou would likely chew over how hilarious whatever truly ensued was.
“Don’t act like this was a nice little sleepover for you, explain what happened.” He’s sure he would have snapped at the man, again if he had the energy.
“Well, I lost you for a while and then I found you on the bathroom floor pitying yourself.” Tecchou replies almost complacently he watches the way Jouno’s nose twitches in vexation when two bowls he pulls from a cupboard clink together when he sets them down.
“Explain more exhaustively, this time?”
He’s more stressed than he’d like to admit. Not only has he burdened Tecchou, but this carelessness has caused such a setback he’s sure will come with great consequences. He can almost imagine the words that will taunt him for the coming months, something along the lines of ‘your negligence has outwitted you again!’ followed by several ‘this ineptitude will no longer be tolerated!’– how exhausting of a concept.
“I brought you back here, gave you the bed, and took the couch for myself because how could I not accommodate a man of God like yourself?” He frowns upon noticing the way Jouno remains so bitterly silent, as if expecting more, “You kissed me, got embarrassed, decided that another drink would cure that embarrassment of yours, and then I had to carry you here because you were so drunk, and then–”
“Shut up! That is more than enough.”
“Then you projectile vomited across my bathroom floor.”
“I do not like you.”
“It was almost impressive.” He hums, anticipating a slap that fortunately never arrives as he pulls a box of cereal from under the counter, emptying the box into the two bowls with milk before shoving a bowl across the other side of the table, urging Jouno to sit.
Before following up with another retort of somesort, Jouno stops in his tracks. He rewinds Tecchou’s initial sentence, plays it over– and again . The nonchalance that came with Tecchou admitting such a thing had him almost skip the fact that he’d kissed him. There he is engulfed by a wave of iniquity again. It takes him prodding at the cereal aimlessly for at least two minutes for him to finally speak.
“I’m sorry.”
It’s a brittle, truly poor apology.
“Can you not apologise? If anything I’d rather you apologise for vomiting on my floor– or kicking me in the back and causing such a nasty bruise?”
“I didn’t mean to though.”
“Yes you did.”
“I meant it but I didn’t mean to —”
“Give it a rest , you speak enough words with that expression of yours,” he sighs, as he peers over at the full bowl of cereal that Jouno still hasn’t touched, “I wanna guess you have a few days anyways, it’s not that any suspicion will have been raised so far.”
This plants Jouno into a quietness Tecchou could hardly comprehend he had generated, and he almost considers putting the untouched bowl aside– or taking it for himself in lieu of the cereal going soggy. Though, his last act of thought brings reason for a smile to tug at his lips as he takes the other man’s spoon up to his face. It’s no surprise to him how Jouno practically dodges the spoonful regardless, waving a hand in the brune’s face dismissively.
“Oh, put it down, moron. ” He scoffs, but there’s finally enough gaiety behind it that might just even pass as a laugh.
“I’ve never known someone so stubborn that they won’t eat, especially whilst as hungover as you are.”
The taller man persists, nonetheless, shoving the spoon up to Jouno’s lips again before he caves, finally taking the mouthful nearly spitefully. Tecchou celebrates his victory only briefly as the bowl is pushed back to him.
“You have it, I’m not hungry,” perhaps it’s more the migraine talking than Jouno himself as he instead reaches for the glass of water sitting on the table beside him, “I still fear I’d throw it up again.”
“Oh yeah, ‘would be a shame for you to redecorate my bathroom floor a second time.” He snarks, wincing at the prompt kick to the shins he had warranted.
Despite it all, Jouno can't help but think of how he has only ever held the depravity of a demon in utmost contempt, and furthermore how Tecchou had proved him so damningly wrong.