waking up the devil | oikawa tooru

vi. angel dust.

OIKAWA WAS A DEVIL. The more you thought about it, the more it made sense—his peculiar behavior, the way he would appear more than human at times, how he knew so much about the world despite not being much older than you at the time. You could have slapped yourself for missing it in the first place. It had been so obvious—so why, then, hadn't you noticed to begin with?

After he'd kissed you, he'd been roughly yanked back by the man who had stood beside you near the ring. You weren't able to make even a peep, your emotions overwhelming you: anger, curiosity, relief that Oikawa wasn't dead like you'd thought, and finally, settling on betrayal—betrayal that he hadn't told you he was a devil when he'd had the chance.

"What do you think you're doing, Shittykawa?!" The abrupt use of his name and a strong epithet in one sentence had you reeling. He was clearly someone close to him, another devil by the looks of it, and seemed to hold some sway over Oikawa because he had the nerve to look embarrassed about it when he realized what he'd done. "You can't just randomly kiss someone with angel dust in your system! You idiot, what if you'd poisoned her?!"

Oh, so that was the issue. You glanced at the blood running from his nose again, tainted with that silvery gray powder, and tentatively touched your fingers to your face. Dried blood stuck to your face like a second skin, along with the odd substance of that dust; not grainy, but enough of a texture to feel like loose, silky sand. You rubbed it between your fingers curiously and watched it fall to the concrete floor in shimmering flakes.

"Sorry." Oikawa's voice was older, but still held the same sing-song notes, just in a different tune. He was looking at you now, a look of apology on his face; sincere, although it looked bizarre on his face, as if it didn't quite belong there, or if he wasn't used to it. His friend looked like he'd been slapped in the face with a pan and left reeling. "Did you inhale any of it, [Name]?"

He did remember you, then, and it wasn't just a fluke like you'd thought. It warmed your chest for a moment, that he recalled who you were, and then you were warmed by a different emotion: fury. He seemed to detect the rapid fluctuation in your mood, stiffening up and gauging you with new eyes as if he was sizing up someone far more dangerous than he was. Devils had the unique ability to sense emotions, you'd read, and manipulate them for their own gain, the opposite of angels, who sensed them and enhanced the positive ones. You only assumed that Oikawa was sampling your mood to sense your reaction to him.

"No." You didn't feel much else except the smear on your cheek from here his nose had pressed into your skin. There wasn't any powder on your mouth either, just the faint tingling from where he'd brutally kissed you. "I don't think so."

His friend watched the interaction between the both of you with hyper focus. His face was contorted into one of extreme confusion and dawning suspicion, overlaid with a curiosity that needed to be sated. He looked to you then, those severe eyes narrowed in contemplation. "You should still get checked. Even the smallest particles could wreak havoc on human lungs."

You recognized it for what it was—a way to keep you and Oikawa in the same room, technically alone, all for this devil's curiosity and a need for answers.

"Okay." You watched Oikawa visibly deflate in relief at your agreement; maybe not so much curiosity and answers, then. "I guess it would be easier to get it done here than pay the angels at the hospital."

The hospitals were generally run by angels, at least in Eden. While their healing miracles were enough to cure stage two cancer, their magic was expensive—at least to human consumers. For devils, it was virtually unobtainable, ranking somewhere in the millions of dollars for a simple checkup. Kiyoko had told you that the devils had their own underground medical service, far cheaper and more convenient for humans, and that they only requested a favor in return, usually small things like to ferry a message between demon lords or play delivery human for a week depending on the severity of the wound or illness.