Work Text:
Hey.
No, too casual. Not that it was supposed to be anything serious; Leo was merely sending a text. Still, the tone just didn’t feel quite right. Considering this was the first message he would send to you in literal years, he felt like it’d be improper to open with something so mundane.
Hello.
Too serious. Too intimidating. Who writes ‘hello’ with a full stop at the end? That was the kind of opening one would use when informing another of terrible news. No, that wouldn’t do either.
A frown made its way onto Leo’s face as he stared at the far too bright screen. This shouldn’t be so hard. He was overcomplicating things, as per usual. It was just a text—nothing more, nothing less. It was just a message to check on you and see how you were doing. He was just curious about what you had been up to. It really wasn’t that big of a deal; there was no need to overthink it.
How have you been?
That was all he wanted to know, so he should just ask that. But he didn’t want to.
Asking that felt too risky, like he was wearing his heart on his sleeve and putting his feelings on display for everyone—or more specifically you—to see. A message like that told you everything you needed to know. That he still, after five goddamn years, cared.
Of course, it wasn’t like he was trying to hide anything from you. He was at a point where he was comfortable enough to be upfront and honest with you. That wasn’t the problem.
The issue was that he didn’t know how you’d reply, or whether you’d even respond at all. Which, by itself, was not a matter of concern. Nonetheless, opening up to you about how he felt only to be left on read was something he’d rather avoid.
Leo’s grip on his phone tightened, a spark of irritation igniting within his chest. It shouldn’t be this complicated—what was he doing? How was he incapable of such a simple task?
A singular text message. That’s all he needed to do. A singular fucking text.
He sucked in a deep breath, letting the air filling his lungs to placate him for a brief moment; just enough to ease the restlessness stirring within him.
It’s been a while.
And it certainly had been.
Leo paused, his fingers warily hovering over the digital touchscreen. The breath he had inhaled not so long ago was now fermenting in his lungs, leaving his lips in the form of a somber sigh, the density in the atmosphere suddenly increasing and sinking weight down upon his shoulders.
Five years. Five entire years where he did his utmost best to avoid looking back on the brief period of time where your paths once crossed. After all, the past you shared with him was long since buried, and he was sure digging its grave would only reveal skeletons he wished to continue avoiding.
He would liken it to roadkill—despite the horror that met him each time he turned back, he found himself unable to tear his gaze away, transfixed by the ghastly scene.
Leo knew that half a decade was an extensive time for him to be haunted by your ghost. The vast amount of time that passed should have rusted the gears of his memory, slowed the turning of the cogs until they came to a halt with a defeated, lifeless screech. Under all normal circumstances, you should be nothing more than a fragment of the past, stored away in a lone chamber of his mind and left beneath gradually building piles of dust.
Perhaps he too had been cursed; an affliction denying him the respite of forgetting.
I still can’t forget about you.
He’s tried to. It’s been some time since he last made an effort, but prior to that, he’d made many attempts to forget you—all unsuccessful.
No, unsuccessful wasn’t quite the right word. He did experience brief moments of victory as he dived into new relationships with fresh faces. Texting, first dates, holding hands at the shopping mall, kissing under the blanket of the twinkling night sky—the emotion he once thought himself to be above instead became one he continuously sought out.
During those moments—his body pressed against someone else’s, his flesh soaking in the warmth that radiated from their skin, the mendacious melody of his name emitted from their vocal cords—he was able to immerse himself in the moment and forget the past that haunted him so. It was then that he could say to them he loved them, while at the same time telling himself he meant it.
No, it wasn’t unsuccessful. But rather... futile.
They all fell apart sooner or later, as broken things tended to do. Each time, he had held together pieces of shattered glass, before the adrenaline pumping through his bloodstream began to dissipate and his arms grew weary. It wouldn’t take long for the pieces of glass to slide apart and fracture at his feet, crumbling into smaller shards than they previously were.
Each time, he’d catch a glimpse of his own reflection in the wreckage surrounding him, only to realize—he no longer recognized himself.
Leo Kurosagi—the demon, the numinous entity above man—was long gone. In its place was not even a mortal, but rather the shell of a person, an empty husk of a being.
I miss you.
Leo’s trembling thumb ghosted over the send button. It was tempting. It was true. It was the purest form of what he felt, an aching cavity in his heart that continuously gnawed at his chest; a perforation in his lungs which rendered the very act of breathing strenuous and excruciating.
But why would you ever want anything to do with a pathetic, miserable creature like him ?
I’m sorry.
Leo’s finger left the screen, instead moving to the side of his cellular device, pressing down on the power button with a weak push.
His phone slipped out of his hand, which hung limply at his side. It clattered against the ground.
Leo joined it soon after, sinking to his knees. An acrid taste filled his mouth, bitterness seeping into his tastebuds and searing a path down his esophagus.
As the nausea-inducing feeling settled into his viscera, his mind gave birth to a singular thought.
If he was ever truly a demon, then this must be the divine punishment he’s been sentenced to.