The quiet days are interrupted by rain's chatter. A hum that fades whenever car engines talk over it.

The news anchor expects sunny days to be far from arms reach.

Aki thinks otherwise.

With a sun hiding as if it feels sheepish, clouds shroud over already gloomy Japan, blanketing your city with a comfortable darkness. The faint squish of a cigarette is surreptitious, it's vestige of ashes hidden underneath a plant pot.

Aki waves away the puffs of grey smoke; adjusting his tie before two, lone rhythms permeate through your apartment's tranquility.

The tall man is the first to knock on your door in a long time. Scrunched brows, calm face, his signature look.

“Hey, really need a place to crash.”

He proclaims tacitly.

“It's a downpour,” he says.

Aki knew he was going to drown.

And it wouldn't be from the flood.

Your eyes widened in surprise yet, welcomed him in. It had been awhile since smoke lingered in your doorway.

“You look like you need a hug.”

He only grins as you chuckled, referring to you as a fiend.

“It's been a rough week,” He sighs, dark circles mirroring his eyes desolate of any light. Dismal weather made everything else seem gloomy, much like the expression he wore on his face.

He was hiding something.

Aki felt like there was a massive sinkhole in his heart, each second a fleeting moment where ephemeral iridescence tried to usher him away to the bottom of a blooming well.

Yet hd doesn't hesitate to slump on your couch, pulling you in with a choreographed plop on the soft cushions.

It's a dance you've memorized over the years. Unbuttoned blouses, tangled blankets. “Hey. Does this ring a bell?” A soft chuckle courses from your reddened ears to your body engulfed by a devil hunter's warmth.

“I miss you.” His chin rests on the dip of your shoulder, his shirt damp, his breath tickling

“But I'm here now. Beside you.” Here it is. the calm voice amidst crashing waves that undulated him in suffocating gentleness. It belonged to you, a someone all for himself.

Nevertheless, there's no obvious limp, no bedraggled look. Only a provocative stare that leaves you as empty as you found him.

“I know. But why is there distance still?” Barely above a whisper, his lips trace the flesh of your neck, as if pining for nothing more but to melt in your embrace.

2 years, was that enough? To ask for a lifetime is a bit too greedy, he thinks. Everything has been stripped away from him, but mortality as an expense for power and a fleeting sense of might—Aki can't help but want to splurge a little.

“I just want to stay with you.”

“Here. Right now.”

He looks away, blue eyes avalanche. “But I'm not in the mood for more sullen topics. I just want to run to you and act like all of this is sane. To feel as if it's all a blur that I try my hardest to remember but just can't.”; “Honestly.”

Honeyed, would you prefer that? Sickeningly saccharine. What was he thinking?

You're in an entirely different order, this is old-fashioned. This is cursed. Everyone he loves is the first to leave, he doesn't want to go— like a flickering candle holding onto its last breath.

After the words leave his mouth, a deafening silence stretched between you; the pitter patter of raindrops ceasing.

The whole world was holding its breath awaiting your response, a crucial moment that makes him want to press rewind. Tell himself off for not thinking it over. “That's selfish, Aki.” Is all you ever say.

Was that it? Does it take every fiber of your soul to pull away and tell him to take the long way home? But another goodbye isn't something you can risk. Everything's expensive nowadays. And your docility was a tough pill to swallow.

Aki can't spit out what he wants to say—instead, he chews his words. Water them down for you to understand. Then his hold gets a little tighter—crushing.

But it wasn't because he was afraid someone might take you away.

“I know. But with you I can act like this, can't I?”

It was because he didn't want to leave just yet.

“You'll let me. Right?”