𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄'𝐒 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄? (𝗵. 𝗮𝗸𝗶) ✓

Boys Being Boys

Denji had spent the majority of their little excursion staring into space, and even then his expression was more bored than zoned out. The surrounding roar of the city didn't seem to bother either of the two, and most definitely not Denji, but between them the silence was unfathomable.

He had spared his supervisor a few impartial glances, as if to size him up, or to provoke a reaction, but had grown tired of this game soon enough. Aki appeared to prefer to not look at Denji at all, as if the very sight of him put him off. Together, they made quite the pair, united in their loathing of each other.

"Hey, big man," Denji remarked, bringing their year-long unwillingness to talk to one another to an end. "Does Hanasaki-san have a boyfriend?"

Aki didn't even try to answer, merely concentrated harder on pretending he didn't exist and quickening his pace so that Denji almost had to jog to keep up. This was a particular insult because of the bustling crowds swarming the pavements, and Denji started to get the feeling he wasn't such a hit with the 'big man'.

"Hey!" he called out, now annoyed at his question being brushed away so easily. "Wait up!"

His supervisor slowed down a bit, but didn't provide any verbal response. Denji still remained behind him, winded, and looked up at him questioningly. Finally, Aki spoke directly to him for the first time (not including the time where he had dragged him away from Hanasaki), his words accompanied by a backwards tilt of his head:

"Come with me."

Denji learnt that he shouldn't exactly have asked the marital availability of his superior the hard way.

Turns out bin bags are a lot less soft when you're thrown into them. His back slammed against the huge, crumpled pile, the breath instantly knocked from his lungs due to the sheer force. He winced as he felt metal cans and glass bottles dig into his spine, the thin, rubbery skins of the bags doing little to alleviate the pain.

Aki had revealed nothing as he led him to this dark, mildewed alleyway, but the one thing Denji wasn't anticipating was for him to cut straight to the chase. The way he was presented by both Hanasaki and himself made him seem too mature and calm to attack a coworker out of frustration, but alas, Denji's expectations had led him astray. The sharp hook Aki delivered to his face before kneeing him in the gut demonstrated further that his temper was precisely the opposite of controlled.

And now he was here, in an unmistakable mess, arms wedged uncomfortably between lumps of black shiny plastic filled with garbage. A thick, slow trickle of blood dribbled from his nose, and he shifted about slightly to wipe it, smearing red across his upper lip.

"You need to quit this job," Aki said nonchalantly, standing in front of him, yet not even bothering to meet his gaze. He was too occupied on fishing a box of cigarettes out of his pocket with the same hand that had battered Denji's nose mere seconds ago. "Show up tomorrow, and I'll kick your ass again."

Denji didn't reply straight away. Once Aki had taken care of withdrawing a single cigarette from the box, and had found the lighter in his other pocket, he brought the flame to life with a downwards stroke of his thumb, which both he and Denji watched as he brought it closer to the white paper tip.

"Why though?"

Aki took a deep inhale of his cigarette, releasing the button on the lighter. He put it back in his pocket, and took the cigarette between two fingers, removing it from his mouth so a rush of pale grey smoke could escape from between his lips.

"Look, I'm trying to be nice here; people who start this job without thinking it through end up dead," he began, clearly referring to someone else when he said 'people'. "I've had colleagues who got into Devil hunting for the pay, and it got them all killed by Devils. The survivors are the ones with real motivation."