Work Text:
* * *
wash wash, wash away
wash my pain away
within the shattered farewell
i washed away all the love
* * *
yoshida didn’t expect it to be so soon.
he’d been preparing for this day for so long that time had lost its meaning and purpose. the moment he received such a cruel mission he actually laughed it off. for the ridiculousness of it, for how absurdly well it fitted him.
it seemed distant at first; months ahead flapping in the wind even with an expiry date. yoshida still didn’t mind. life had actually been quite generous to him compared to other fellow devil hunters, and he knows to be grateful when it’s been long overdue.
he began to mind though when his time no longer involved solitude. for someone who mostly worked alone, public safety actively did their best to go against his inner conventions. he heeded instructions anyway; he adapted well. that was one of the few tricks he’d had to learn in order to survive. as if there was an alternative.
the alternative came later—in the shape of an immortal boy, of golden and disheveled strands of hair, of crooked grins and sunken eyes that he would effortlessly engrave in his mind.
“why are you standing in the rain?”
his voice never carried concern, but yoshida chooses to believe it did that day.
denji arrived in yoshida’s life like a hurricane. unprompted, unsolicited, unwelcomed. shook him off everything he once thought, everything he once sought.
someone so opposite to him in all aspects would be unfathomable to tolerate—bold (and blunt), confusing, irritating, and ultimately flawed. just like all humans were after all. thing is denji wasn’t human anymore despite striving to experience the life that was always escaping from his hold.
so it felt kind of preordained that yoshida’s commitment was to particularly ensure he achieved it.
as if he had any knowledge about it; life was that much of a satire. so he stuck to the basics.
follow your instincts and let them drive you.
“i brought pizza and drinks. eat with me?”
it was always easier with food. especially with an enthusiastic bottomless pit of a stomach like denji’s. not that yoshida complained—he liked watching people eat. being full and sated is something he’d never feel, so it was nice to remain a witness to other people’s blissful faces.
and denji’s was indeed his favourite.
it took him a while to show gratitude with spoken words, though yoshida really appreciated basking in their complicit silence. fleeting glances and knowing grins were all he needed.
until this day.
“would you mind taking a stroll around the school with me?”
it’s hard to feel sated when you bury your own food. when you let it rot, pray for it to serve as fertilizer to better odds, only to cry seeds that thrive and grow thorns.
yoshida simply can’t let it go. as they walk past empty classrooms and flickering lights, there’s only one question that comes to mind.
“why didn’t you choose a normal life, denji?”
such an ironic question it was, since yoshida never chose one, either. either by selfish choice or by pure survival, they both ended up with lives they didn’t want.
denji’s eyes fall heavy and sullen on him.
“every time i’ve tried, something’s come up to tear it off right on my face.”
yoshida notices how denji’s gaze lingers on a classroom—how his palm rests over the doorframe but doesn’t dare to step inside.
“i’ve only walked around an empty school with someone else once before.”
yoshida accepts he’ll never be denji's first in any regard. it’s okay, he’s never been one to fall for utter greed anyway. if anything, he’s glad he’s given the opportunity to even try.
“it was with a girl that time. i had no idea what school was like. never imagined i’d actually get to experience that.”
denji’s words carry a deep melancholy that weighs too heavy on yoshida’s shoulders. denji should’ve had more time.
they both should have, but yoshida’s fine with scattered crumbs.
“you liked her?”
of course he did. denji liked girls, especially if they liked him back. and everybody liked him.
denji smiles whole-heartedly; the kind of smile that pierces and embraces his lonely heart. the only one yoshida wants to treasure in the shadows of a farewell.
“yeah.”
yoshida has so many things to say and yet he can barely give them shape. instead, he relishes how his arm keeps brushing denji’s, and how much he wants denji to keep walking by his side so his warmth and scent would permeate the layers of his cursed uniform.
denji remains unusually mellow and contemplative as their slow steps resonate in the long hallway. contrary to yoshida, he does seem to know how to voice out his inner dilemmas.
“a devil recently told me that i’m supposed to choose between two options.”
yoshida should know when to trust a devil. if denji has to pick sides, he should be thankful it’s coming from one and not a human being instead.
“just like you warned me not so long ago.”
yoshida chuckles half-heartedly. he would never trust himself again, so he can’t blame denji for not having followed his advice.
“i couldn’t choose back then. i was greedy, i picked both, and look where it got me.”
it indeed wasn’t an easy choice. it seemed obvious but it just covered misery. for someone like denji whose body no longer fully belongs to himself, surrendering to indulgence was the unavoidable, predictable outcome.
yoshida wishes he could rewind time and start again, though chances are everything would go the same way.
“it’s just that this time i don’t know what those two options are.”
time does have a way of repeating itself. fate is ruthless, and yoshida knows it well. he can seize his own right there, he can jeopardize everything he’s worked for, he can mistakenly believe he may also get to taste a different life.
but would he feel satisfied?
“i think i’ll never know if i’m making the right choice.”
denji’s words cascade like the rain they’re sheltering from.
too bad yoshida’s already soaked.
“what about making the wrong choice?”
yoshida’s felt selfish before despite blindly trying not to succumb to its claws. yet now he wonders if he really should, if he’s irrevocably bound to. he’s in a constant spiral, a loop that latches on his back and keeps kicking his knees. he dares, he wavers, he retreats. his feelings are always caught in a turmoil of need and restraint, nearly collapsing at any flimsy chance, just like this place is about to crumble in an unforgettable dance.
he might as well go with his best regret. he’ll regret if he doesn’t, he’ll regret if he does. either way, denji will hate him. but yoshida will be thankful, because hatred is better than indifference.
if he can’t set for heaven, he shall gladly embrace hell.
“tell me one thing, denji—if you could die, what would your last words be?”
fortunately for yoshida, that’s the first time denji’s ever heard such insolence.
“why—are you asking me that?”
yoshida sees it painfully clear this time. in his wavering eyes, in his parted and chapped lips.
in a split second, yoshida gives him the kiss that in another life could’ve fulfilled him. in this one, it only carves that hollow deeper. it’s silent, and wet, and agonizing. it lasts long enough to remember, yet it breaks soon enough to miss.
his hands gently stroke his neck before pulling away. denji’s body is cold yet his lips are blazing.
denji must have seen his face and understood, because he doesn’t shout at him. he doesn’t even push him away. his stunned eyes observe him in silence—he’s reading all his buried thoughts, all his lingering wishes. if he keeps staring, yoshida believes he might even steal a shred of his pain.
denji very well recognizes the look of someone who’s meant to leave.
“. . .what would yours be?”
a superior once told him that love and explosions shared something in common—both things happen in an instant and leave nothing behind afterwards.
and yoshida clinged to that thought. but his life had been unpredictable enough; an unfamiliar quality he’d internalized thanks to denji. no matter how hard yoshida had tried to erase it, there was always more room for it to bloom.
he desperately wished it had been true.
because his love for denji will agonize in his ashes so vividly that not even the pouring rain may extinguish them.
“i love you.”
* * *
though i know now
that i can’t erase it
i’m tryna wash away
all the traces of you left
* * *