unmemorable // noragami yato x reader

blue

Not much after the indirect encounter, he started to walk away from the bridge. It confused me, since learning that he can teleport, I wondered why he would bother walking. But I bet that his feet don't give out like mine do after so much travelling on foot. 

He also seemed to be upset, at least from what I could tell from his body language. His head hung low, and I was unable to get a look at his face because his bangs shadowed the light tones of his eyes. He bunches his shoulders and slouched forward while stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He trudged his feet along, and didn't seem to be following the path that Yukine took back to what I'm assuming is their house. His pace was also slow, and his speed captured his mood almost perfectly. But the feeling emitted from his body seemed to be more complex than what he was giving me to work with. Although it was frustrating, I tried to not hold it against him because he didn't know that I even actually existed. 

He muttered to himself occasionally, but nothing that seemed to be a coherent sentence. I wondered how I can hand him the coin now. I'd rather hand it to him sooner, since my colors are so dull that I think that even if he could see me, I'd be partly translucent and fading into the background. But he's not giving me the chance to do so. 

I follow him back to the house, and he pulls open the door slowly and sneaks inside while I sneak in while the door is open as well. He keeps his low posture, and walks up the stairs and over to his bed on the floor. The other boy, Yukine is tucked in to his bed, looking at Yato when he arrives. 

"What took you so long?" Yukine questions, and Yato looks over at him with a serious expression. 

"I had to think," he pushes off the questions easily. 

"Whatever. Not sure what's so special about someone being too cheap to pay for two separate wishes," Yukine fires back, and Yat'os eyes narrow in a harsh look.

"You wouldn't understand. You didn't hear it," Yato whispers in return, and turns his back on Yukine and sits on his bed. 

Yukine also turns away, and tucks his blanket up to his chin. He harshly shuts his eyes, obviously in attempt to block out Yato. I instantly feel bad. Because whatever connection they share, I feel like I'm already ruining it and neither are even sure that I exist yet. Maybe I should just leave if I'm already gonna fuck things up for both of them. But somewhere my selfishness peaks, and I can't bring myself to go. 

When Yukine falls asleep, his breathing gets louder and even. Yato rolls over to his back, and rests an arm behind his head. A single silver beam of light from the moon cuts through the window to illuminate his light washed eyes staring up at the ceiling. After a few minutes, he sits up and leans his head on top of his knees. I take a seat opposite of him, crossing my legs neatly, I try to conclude what he may be feeling. 

He seems deep in thought, and overall seems to be frustrated. It makes me feel sheepish, and I try talking to him again as if he could hear. 

"I'm right here," I almost sound like I'm pleading, "I promise. I'm right here. Look for me, because I'm here."

He lifts his head up, his bangs shifting to naturally fall around his eyes. And for a small moment I believe that he did hear me. That he really is looking for me. But his eyes hold no recognition of seeing another life sitting here. He holds a blank look, and there are only slight emotions swirling in his eyes. 

Being so close, I want to reach out and touch him. I reach out my two hands, and lightly place them on his cheeks. My hands perfectly fit around his face, and his skin is cool and smooth. It acts as a major reassurance to me. That he's actually real, and he doesn't know me but already seems so invested. Maybe it's wrong to string all the my hopes to him so early, but each day has been so tiring but I can't die. And living through my constant demise is one of the hardest things I've had to do. But I also feel like I'm drowning through all of it. 

I let my fingers slip down his face and retract my arm to again go to grab the coin in the same pocket I've kept it in. I was reluctant to let go of him, the biggest reason being how safe it feels to hold the one person that's given me hope. I enclose my fingers around the coin for what feels like the millionth time with the intentions of giving it to him. 

"I really hope this works," I say aloud, not able to stop myself. "I'm resting a lot of my fate on this coin, and you."

It takes a lot of energy for me to reach over and grab his wrist, open his fingers so his palm is up and facing the ceiling. So much so that I almost feel like passing out. I know that's not normal. My strength must be leaving with the rest of me that fades. He doesn't seem alarmed by the unknown force moving his arm, he only raises his hung head up to look straight through me. I'm as surprised as he is when I'm actually able to move his arm and he leans forward intently, returning his expression to a neutral one. I place the coin in the palm of his hand delicately, and by the moonlight, I see what almost makes me think that I'm insane. 

Color. Blue. His eyes are the clearest of blue, and he widens them slightly in shock. In them, I see my own reflection. It's distant, and I can even hardly see the resemblance to myself. Whatever connection the coin pulled me into, I have a feeling that I will be eternally appreciative. 

"Can you hear me now?" I whisper, and for a moment there's no response, and my heart drops. But then he blinks, and continues to blink a few more times rapidly. Then he answers. 

"Yes," he pauses a moment, scanning through which question to ask first, then deciding, "who are you?"

"Y/n," I respond, and feel like crying. My name has always been like a curse to me, an insult to remind me that nobody will know, and nobody will be able to call me by it. Even if I tried, nobody would know who I was. Nobody would know my name. Now that's changed.

"Where did you-," he disregards that question, "are you that...; that voice, belonged to you?"

I nod at his last question. He spoke it in such a way that seemed like he already pieced it together himself, but needed me to confirm it for him. He caught on quick, and his sudden interest suppresses the questions that I have kept inside my head. I continue to stare into the depths of his blue eyes. It's the only color I've seen outside of myself. 

I quickly get so lost in them that I could've stared into them all night. It's the most true shade of blue I could've guessed at. The color is as sharp as ice, but when his eyes look at me they seem to hold warmth. 

"Wait, I have to understand," he shakes his head and his expression goes more serious than before, "what are you? Nothing about you makes sense."

"I'm sorry?"  

"You're whole appearance is faded," he marvels, "you look like a ghost. But ghosts don't exist, spirits do. But they don't look like you do."

"What do I look like?" I interrupt once he mentions it, "nobody's ever been able to see me before. Please tell me. What do you see when you look at me?"

"You look like an angel," he says, "literally. There's this fade of white light that almost makes it hard to see. And you have such a soft face matched with soft features. But something about you is so stunning.. I- don't think I can look away."