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Dagon rolled with the ebb and flow of the current. He would submerge into the water now and again—as he always did. Any sound he may have made was drowned out by the lapping of the waves against the shore.
Kenjaku, too, was left to his devices and lounged in one of the lawnchairs, reading a magazine without a care.
There was nothing in particular going on that day. Most of them had been out for the majority of the day, with the exception of Kenkaju and Dagon.
Mahito had returned not long ago. Surprisingly, he hadn’t said hello, and instead quietly went and sat down on the sand not far from Kenjaku, facing toward the sea.
While always pleasant, the beach inside Horizon of The Captivating Skandha proved to be all the more rewarding during the winter. It was mid February, after all. Not that the colder weather made any difference to Mahito, weather elements hardly mattered to him–or to any of the other curses, really. But the sun always felt good.
Mahito lifted fistfuls of warm sand and watched it slip through his fingers.
“Geto, what’s Valentine’s Day?” He asked suddenly.
“Hearing about that around?” He didn’t look up from his magazine. Mahito nodded but Kenjaku hadn’t seen it.
“There’s a lot of people giving gifts. Treats. People seem happy,” Mahito said.
“It vexes you, I’m sure.”
“It does.”
Kenjaku lifted his head.
“It’s when women give chocolates to the man they love.”
“Oooh.”
“And men reciprocate this on White Day.”
“When’s that?”
“A month later.”
Mahito mumbled meekly in thought. There was a moment’s peace before he shot up and twirled around.
“How ‘bout we do that?” He gleamed, lacing his hands together and teetering forward.
“I’ll give you those chocolates.”
“I didn’t think you’d want in on the fun.” Kenjaku replied casually.
“Let’s do it.” Mahito urged.
Kenjaku hummed sweetly, as if to consider it for a moment. “No.”
Mahito’s hands fell and his posture drooped. “Why not?”
He simply didn’t want to, but he didn’t say that. “Why would you like to celebrate a human holiday?” He proposed instead.
“You’re not my keeper.” Mahito immediately deflected sullenly.
Kenjaku snickered quietly enough that he couldn’t have heard.
Silence once again settled before it was again disrupted by Mahito.
“Do you like chocolate?”
“I do.”
“Then I’ll get them for you.”
“You needn’t.”
Kenjaku didn’t need to see him to know he would have looked frustrated. Regardless, he stopped and peered at the curse, amused and satisfied. He looked back down and continued reading without so much as a word. Mahito watched him disappointedly before he spun back away from him and sank to the ground.
He seemed to pout for a minute, hunched over.
Then Kenjaku heard him hurl—sounding wet and vile like it usually did.
Then he was fiddling something in his hands.
Kenjaku could only wait in dreadful anticipation as to what kind of thing he was sculpting.
He was working at it for a good while, which had at least allowed him to finish most of the magazine, skimming through all of the uninteresting bits.
The distant fleshy and crackling sounds of Mahito’s construction finally came to a halt and Kenjaku listened to the kicking of sand as he approached and finally looked up as a shadow casted over him.
He extended a grotesque display of flowers in his hand.
“As a token of our—” he paused and his eyes wandered to the side in thought. “Companionship.”
He fixed his eyes back at Kenjaku and lightly shook the bouquet, beckoning him to take it. He accepted it and admired it with a gentle expression, but Mahito couldn’t tell if he was pleased or unimpressed.
Though they were fleshy and slightly deformed, he could recognize the flower he tried to imitate.
“Tsubaki?” He asked.
Mahito nodded. “Do you like them?” he chimed.
Kenjaku smiled smugly. “I suppose they
are
in season.”
Mahito scrunched his nose in a slight glower.
Some of them bore a mouth on one of its pedals—they gasped and wheezed quietly. Kenjaku assumed he’d given them mouths to keep them alive.
One of them had an eyeball right in the center where the pedals came together. It had no eyelids and was bloodshot. It darted around before pinning its gaze onto him. Even with it lacking a face entirely, he could see its anguish.
They were well crafted, he could admit. Though a little misshapen.
He rotated the flowers in his hand for another moment in careful consideration.
“I like them.” He finally answered.
Mahito gave a small and hushed giggle.
Kenjaku turned and gently placed the bouquet of flesh and bone onto the sand just beside the chair.
“Aw,” Mahito whined. “You’re not gonna hold it?” Kenjaku sighed pleasantly in response and settled back.
Mahito briefly hesitated before he leapt onto the lawn chair, plopping right down on Kenjaku's thighs, straddling him. The whole chair was jostled by it and Kenjaku tried his best to mask his irritation, but his shoulders sank with a heavy sigh nonetheless.
Mahito timidly wriggled further up his lap and leaned forward.
“Kiss me.”
“No.”
“So cold! Even after that lovely gift I made you?”
There was a pause.
“You think I owe you a kiss for it?”
“Is that not how it works?”
He gawked at him, his eyes innocently darted about, taking in every part of Kenjaku’s face before meeting with his eyes again. Kenjaku only smiled back with that oddly serene and somehow demeaning grin of his. With no further reaction, Mahito lifted his hand and tapped his lips with his finger. “On the mouth,” he instructed.
“Choosy.”
They sat quietly before Mahito leaned in closer–uncomfortably close. Their noses almost touched. Almost.
It stayed this way for a bit. Mahito eyed him expectantly and eagerly. Kenjaku stared unflinchingly at the curse directly in front of him which breathed against his skin.
Mahito tilted his head and slided forward ever-so-slightly. Kenjaku remained rigid before Mahito finally closed the sliver of distance between them.
Naturally, he wasn’t a good kisser, but Kenjaku nevertheless reciprocated. It was short, but alarmingly gentle and tender.
Kenjaku softly broke away and Mahito moved in to try once more but he only calmly retreated further from him. Mahito leered at him, disappointed and flippant. He leaned back and seated himself back on Kenjaku’s legs, unsatiated. “All I’m gonna get?”
“Yup.”
Huffy, he hopped off from his lap. Now free, Kenjaku rested his hands across his stomach and crossed his legs. Mahito took the lounge chair just next to him and laid across it, turning his back to him.
He peered over his shoulder. “I’m looking forward to White Day,” he said. “You better get something nice for me.”
“Of course,” he lied.
Naturally, he wasn’t going to. But Mahito isn’t one to forget about these things, either.