My Soul Belongs to AkaRen/Renkaza

like the Tsubaki flower

Renkaza Week - Day 1

Prompt: Flowers

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The  one who started rap-tap-tapping on my downcast brow,

Kyoujurou awakes to the sensation of cold fingers smoothing along his brows, he cracks his eyes open, the chirping of birds and faint sunlight snuck into his room through thin doors. Kneeling beside his futon, he folded his blankets and tucked it into the cabinet on the side of the room, he slid the doors open to reveal their home's backyard, the short, trimmed grass glistened under the sunlight, pink, red flowers danced in the bushes as a breeze passed by, leaves rustle, tossing and turning on the ground of the garden, and out of Kyoujurou's view.

He straightens his back, putting his hands on his hips and inhaled deeply. Exhaling the tension, he feels more awake as he stares out at the garden, and the blue sky adorned with white clouds.

Was  it you, I wonder? Am I wrong‚ I wonder?

He didn't wake up to the sensation of someone caressing him in his sleep.

There was a silhouette, pale skin with dark tattoos on his cheeks, gazing softly with moonlight reflecting off his smooth skin, and jerking his hand away when Kyoujurou stirs from his sleep.

He lets his wonders run free for a moment, letting himself slip through the boundaries and morals of a demon slayer, a Pillar, the heir of the Rengoku family.

He was just Kyoujurou at that moment, the Kyoujurou who lets himself fall into the affection of a demon over and over again.

When he steps out of this room, he was Rengoku Kyoujurou again, the honorable Flame Pillar from the Rengoku family.

I want to open my eyes‚ but I'm still scared.

He so wants to accept that he had become addicted to the demon's presence, his affection, his laughs, and his light touches on Kyoujurou's skin.

Yet, he was afraid to admit that he had fallen in love with the demon that had killed and devoured humans.

Yet, he longs for their blood-stained fingers to be intertwined. He longs for the soft pink locks rubbing against his shoulder, its colors similar to the Tsubaki blooming in his garden. He longs to share the tea made from the flower's leaves with him, who laughs so carefreely that allows them to forget who they were for a moment.

Sunset... somehow‚ it's sad,

Kyoujurou observes the sunset as he returns from a mission, his uniform dirty with dust and splatters of blood, his Nichirin sword stilly by his side, hanging at his hip. His fingers were swelling, with a cut on his upper arm that was already treated by one of the villagers after his fight with a demon, he barely dodged the collapsing building while shielding a girl with his body when the demon emerged from between the walls.

Just one lone moment, he was Kyoujurou, wishing for a certain demon to appear in his room, sitting on his futon, with that stupid smirk that never failed to make his stomach jump.

To share small talks like friends, do certain gestures like lovers, to embrace each other like family, to share peace and quiet with each other, just as themselves, Kyoujurou and Akaza.

He doesn't know how much time they have left. He doesn't know how many nights they have left with each other. And he hates that he wishes Akaza could be here with him every night.

There was Akaza's name, his throat tightens and he swallows, his chest throbbed as he forces himself to quicken his pace.

Please,  wait for me,