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The night is calm and lonely, not a whisper nor a sob would dare change that. Blissfully unaware, Daigo lay beside his subordinate as he hides just that, one hand hovering in front of his mouth as his lip quivers and threatens to reveal his emotions to the world. Eyes glassy and bloodshot, Mine still gazes at the man before him as if he were the moon itself, dutifully hanging each and every star in the night sky that so lovingly enveloped the two of them. Bright, inviting, familiar; how could he not? A man gone insane would still have a right enough mind to admire the sight before him. And he tells his sleeping form this much, manages to whisper out choked-up syllables that hammer at the bubble of peace the darkness brought, the light of the street lamps filtering in through the sheer curtains he swore he would need to replace in time for the new season weeks ago.
An uncomfortably cold breeze sweeps through the room but Daigo is radiantly warm, bathed in artificial hues of orange and yellow and Mine has to pretend he isn’t aching to kiss the expanses of skin the light has revealed to him, handed him on a diamond-encrusted platter and urged him to take and take and take until nothing was left. He has to hold himself back, shoulders almost twitching from exertion as he pours all of his energy into not disturbing his love, not disrupting his peace with his humanity. Oh, but if all of that didn’t matter, if he was sure he would stay asleep no matter the commotion he caused… If only he was certain, he would scream in pain at the top of his lungs and claw at Daigo's skin, desperate to peel back every layer to discover what makes him so loving, what has caused such a heavenly being to take pity on his poor soul. He would desecrate this holy space and create art of his own, an image fitting for a hopeless sob like him. Mine knew he didn't deserve his kindness, and he didn't want it either. He wanted Daigo to throw him to the wolves and show him he really was worth nothing, that there was a reason he was allowed to taste heaven before he fell into eternal damnation for the final time.
But Mine wasn't stupid, and he knew that he wasn't capable of that. Looking at Daigo's sleeping form, the back that raised ever so slightly with every deep breath, Mine knew the thought never even crossed his mind. It made him want to love him even more, but he couldn't be sure that love even existed. Years from now he would come to learn that love isn't felt, it is shown; love was never a single emotion, all-encompassing and purifying and light. Love was dark, heavy, it was a burden carried by those that would do it ten times over if they could, not caring that they didn't have to. But now, in this moment, love was a distant concept and he couldn't recognize the weight on his shoulders for what it was.
His hand ghosts over Daigo’s bare arm as he allows himself to trace the border between that which is familiar, his, and what the darkness has claimed for its own. The very tips of his fingers dare not make contact with his skin as they glide along the light, slowly but surely mapping the figure the night has laid before him. Mine was sure that if he had truly touched him, grabbed Daigo and anchored himself in the moment, he would burn. He would hiss in pain, and he would have marred his perfect skin with a hideous scar, with proof that he was damned to be loved by a demon. These hands kill, they hurt, not too long ago they traced the empty space beside him wistfully and waited for something, anything. He couldn’t touch him, not in this state. It would go further than just blasphemy, he may even be shot down by a higher power right now just for the thought of it. And yet, a selfish desire roiled in his gut as his fingers twitched, begging to push the boundary and just do it, see if his adoration was pure or if he was to be drowned in guilt for condemning him. Mine almost hated him for it, for fooling him into thinking that a beast like him could ever deserve anything but the cycle of suffering he had endured his entire life. He did something to bring this upon himself, every betrayal acting as a reminder. So why now was he breaking from the script, allowing himself pleasure and happiness at the cost of an innocent soul?
Daigo turned. Of course he would, it was only like him to make the first move. Even with the slightest shift, he had effectively emptied Mine's mind, and for a second all was silent in the world again. Even the slight hum of electricity in the house faded out in an instant, leaving the two of them in a vacuum once more. And just like every other night, Mine’s hand came to fully rest on his arm despite the protests of his mind. Just like every other night, he threw caution to the wind and forgot his self-loathing. If he were to damn the two of them, so be it; he was sure Daigo would follow him down into Hell without a word, the same way he would renounce his very existence once more to see him in Heaven. His movements were uncertain at first, like this was the first time he had ever experienced physical touch, but in a flash his palm had connected and nothing changed. Daigo was still there, sound asleep. Mine was still sat on his side of the bed, breath held but body present. And all was right with the world. He dare not lift his hand to reveal the marred skin that would surely tell him if he deserved this life or not, deciding for just one night to allow this selfishness. He was the master of his own fate for the next few hours, until the sun rose and set again the next day.
The light revealed new secrets to explore, and yet Mine no longer felt compelled to let go of the moon that kept the wild tides of his ever-working mind in check. His hand stay glued to Daigo’s arm, and maybe that’s where it was supposed to stay.