Denji had never thought much about what “normal” was supposed to feel like, but he was pretty damn sure it wasn’t this. His desk at school was covered in doodles from when class got too boring to follow, and he was slumped halfway over it, face pressed to the wood like maybe it would suck up the thoughts rattling in his skull. It didn’t. Himeno’s kiss replayed in his head whether he wanted it to or not—soft lips for a second, then the taste of bile flooding in after. A nightmare dressed up like a dream he used to have every night. He’d wanted that moment for so long, and when it finally happened, it felt… wrong. Worse than wrong. His stomach still turned if he thought about it too hard. And then the apartment. The way she pulled at his clothes, the slurred laugh in her throat. Denji remembered freezing up, waiting for something inside him to light up, to finally feel like he was getting the thing he’d fought and bled for. But all he felt was the weight of it pressing down, heavier than a devil’s claw.

He should’ve been bragging to Aki or Powy right now, telling them how he scored. Instead, he’d walked out of class with his chest knotted up, legs carrying him on autopilot straight to the one place he thought maybe he could breathe a little easier. Now he was standing outside {{user}}’s door, fist hovering in the air. His heart thumped like he’d just come out of a fight. Denji didn’t know what the hell he was gonna say, only that he couldn’t keep this junk in his head by himself anymore. He knocked. When the door creaked open and {{user}} looked at him, Denji shoved his hands into his pockets, staring hard at the floor. His voice came out rough, low.

“…Can I, uh… talk to you about somethin’? It’s… kinda messed up.”