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Benji frowned and slowly closed his book. “If you chop off your fingers, I’m chopping off your dick. I’m sure you don’t need science to figure out how badly that shit will hurt.”
No word in the English dictionary could accurately pinpoint how mortified Ezra was to hear Benji’s threat. Rather than continue to joke around in his dry, deadpan fashion, he dropped his gaze to his book once more. “I’ll look for a better question...”
Benji glanced up from his own copy of To Kill a Mockingbird, a brow raised. “… You’re not actually considering that, are you?” What good was a lover without fingers?
Ezra returned the glance with a quirked brow of his own, the corners of his lips curling ever so slightly. “At this very moment? No.” He paused to look back down at the book in hand, turning its thin page with a careful swipe of his finger. “... Of course, if it was scientifically proven to be true...”
“… Would you have one of your fingers surgically removed if it somehow guaranteed immunity from all major diseases?”
He stumbled upon a copy of The Book of Questions nearly half an hour ago – and judging by the look of things, he wasn’t planning on setting it down any time soon.
The Darkest Truth About Love from Hannah Jacobs
4th Album 「gene」release 13.11.2013
Resurrection [P.T.P×Masato from coldrain & 葉月 from lynch.]
Credit: kaitokai
Oh, how she had MISSED him. It mattered naught that they found themselves on opposite sides of the spectrum ( for while he was a hunter - she was a DEMON ); their friendship still continued to blossom. Months could pass with out a single word shared between the pair, yet upon seeing each other once more, things would comfortably continue as they were.
& as seemingly DELICATE arms remain still in their hold, the demoness lifted her head, a genuine ( & oh so rare ) smile present upon tender lips. ❛Mm, I’ll let go in a bit, yeah? I feel like you’ll disappear the moment I step away.❜ She offered in evident tease, yet her words held an underlying truth - for she truly didn’t want to lose him again. ❛Come on, I know you missed me, Ezra– Here, if you actually hug me back, I’ll let go of you, yeah?❜ & so forth came the challenge; a glint of amusement flickering through eyes of strikingly pale ice & snow.
Of course. She hadn’t changed a bit -- always taunting, always trying to find a way underneath his skin, no matter how uncomfortable it made him. For a long time, it didn’t bother him. For a short while, it did. Now, he came to figure out that it was her way of expressing platonic affection, and while he was still a lost cause when it came to reciprocating such warmth, he was a little better at accepting it. Maybe, after all this time, HE was the one who changed.
❝I may be fast, but... not that fast.❞ Not as fast as she was, anyways. He lowered his gaze to meet hers (or, rather, meet the bridge of her nose; seems that not even a little change could shake his irrational fear of direct eye contact). Eventually, he breathed a soft sigh -- though his dull metal eyes held some glimmer of amusement. ❝---- Fine. Here.❞
With that, he carefully folded his tattooed arms around the demoness and... drummed his fingers against her back...? Did that even count as a hug? Regardless of what she thought, he firmly believed it did. ❝There. Done.❞
That gentle caress was intoxicating; either that, or the sleep deprivation was finally getting to him. Benji leaned into Ezra’s rough, calloused hand and stumbled forward into his chest. His arms folded around his waist. The familiar musk of smoke and wood enveloped him, reassured him. “Good,” he whispered against his chest.
Strange as it was to admit, having Benji in such close proximity no longer made Ezra nervous. When other people came too close, he would usually become so tense. And yet, as Benji staggered into his frame and wrapped his arms around him, Ezra welcomed him without a second thought. His own arms moved to secure his thin body, helping him stay upright. “Here...” he murmured softly. “You should rest. Want me to help you to bed?”
Benji fought the urge to step back from Ezra. This time he really heard his apology. This time, he was ready. “… Just… Don’t disappear again. Don’t do that again. I–” He bit down on his lower lip and drew his arms up to his chest. “I don’t want you to go again.”
It was a hard promise to make. As long as he was alive -- as long as his father was alive -- he would have to disappear again and again. He would have to leave the state unannounced. Hell, he would have to leave the country from time to time. Maybe... just maybe, he could tell Benji. Maybe he trusted him enough to share every aspect of his life with him.
Right now, though, he didn’t worry about the repercussions; he was more worried about Benji’s well-being. With a careful hand, he reached out and brushed a matted piece of hair from his face, rough pads cradling the gaunt hollow of his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Still hesitant, Benji lingered behind the door. It was a barrier between them. Like a shield. He considered him with tired eyes. “… Couldn’t? Or wouldn’t?” Overcome with his own fatigue, he leaned into the door, eyes closing momentarily. He knees threatened to buckle beneath him. “I waited for you,” he whispered. “I said I wouldn’t. But I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Couldn’t.” Ezra reiterated, watching Benji carefully. True to his word, he was being completely honest with him. It was what he deserved, after all; he looked like he could barely keep himself upright. Slowly, he padded closer, though he kept a safe distance. “Benji... I’m sorry I kept you waiting. I’m sorry for keeping you in the dark... but I’m here now. I’m here.”
“–Travel?” Benji murmured softly. His grip on the doorknob loosened. When he was a child, his father frequently traveled for work. He toured the state with his business (and sometimes his band), and for weeks at a time they would go without a word. His dad had always been trustworthy. Was Ezra, too?
The lock clicked and the hinges squealed as he finally pulled open the door. His vintage print t-shirt hung loosely on his slim shoulders. “Why didn’t you call?”
Finally! Ezra was getting somewhere. Just as soon as he had feared Benji’s disbelief -- and, worst of all, his rejection -- he heard him stir behind the door. As soon as the lock clicked out of place, he released his grip from the doorknob, taking a step back to allow him some space. Once the door had finally eased open, though, Ezra felt his stomach lurch.
Benji was worse off than he thought. Even though it had only been a month, he had lost so much weight. His hair lacked its luster. His clothes were unkempt. Even his eyes -- usually so full of ferocity and light -- seemed dull and lifeless in their sockets.
Ezra winced. “I... I’m sorry. I couldn’t use my phone.”
Benji furrowed his brow as he followed each of Ezra’s words. He could hear thickness of his hesitation. For whatever reason, talking about his absence was making him nervous. He didn’t want to. Had he run off with someone new? The idea of Ezra hopping beds (across the country) tugged at his heart.
“Work,” he repeated coldly. For only a moment, he considered the viability of Ezra’s story. That was all he needed to determine that it was utter bullshit. “Try again.”
Fuck. Benji didn’t believe him. Even though he was honest, he didn’t believe him. A brief spark of frustration burned silently in his throat, but he quickly extinguished it with an analysis. Perhaps he was too vague. He knew how Benji preferred direct, brutal honesty... but admitting to his true identity in the middle of the apartment hallway was not exactly the smartest idea. God only knew what kind of characters lived across the hall from them.
Regardless, he took a moment to steel himself before he continued, his voice low. “I’m serious, Benji. My job... sometimes requires me to travel -- sometimes at the last minute.”
At the prolonged silence, Benji was under the impression that Ezra would hightail it back to his own apartment – or wherever he had been for the past few weeks. All he could think of was retreating into his solitude. What he hadn’t expected was for Ezra to wait patiently outside of his door, begging for a chance to talk.
Benji struggled to find an answer. He brought a fingertip to his lips and traced the seam. “… Fine,” he managed, eyes wrenching shut. He could feel, even see, Ezra’s piercing, gunmetal eyes on him. “Tell me where you went.”
And there it was: the single bomb that would decimate all of Ezra’s well-constructed city. How he dreaded this day. How he hoped it would never come. Unfortunately, that was the nature of secrets: secrets were meant to perish, no matter if it was at the hand of truth or the hand of Death itself. For a moment, he stood in resigned silence, his dull gaze falling so hard upon the floor that he could almost hear the resounding thud. To say another word would have him -- and possibly Benji -- marching to the gallows.
However, to stay silent would betray his trust and leave him condemned to solitude for the rest of his life.
In that moment, he honestly had no idea which was the greater risk.
❝---- I was out of town.❞
He finally spoke up, his eyes falling shut. Hesitation stalled each word.
❝… I... had work to do.❞
No Light, No Light | Florence + The Machine
Utterly & entirely DISTRACTED, the demoness knew not of who approached; she merely wanted to be left alone. & as the figure continued their casual stroll, the entirety of her body tensed. Lithe fingers instantaneously shot out with the unwarranted contact, swiftly curling around the attackers wrist. ❛Seriously? Did you not hear a WORD I just said–? ❜
Words fizzled upon her still tongue, eyes of seeming luminescent colours flickering towards familiar visage. ❛– Ezra?❜ Oh, her wish of solitude was suddenly forgotten; her petite frame all but JUMPING at his, slender arms soon curling around his form as she pulled him in for a tight hug. ❛Ezra!!❜
-------- Ouch.
He had forgotten how STRONG she was, this figure of darkness. It was no fault of hers, by any means -- it wasn’t like she asked to be this way (at least, that was the assumption he decided to stick to; it was a decent safety net to cast when it came to most preternatural creatures). It was the reason why he fought back his instinct to retaliate, no matter how unpleasant it was to have his carpal bones ground together between her fingers. He had at least hoped she would come to her senses eventually.
And come to her senses she did. Before he knew it, she had released him -- and before he knew it, she had secured him into an entirely different hold. Of course his first instinct was to FLINCH, but eventually, he allowed himself to relax. He even went so far as to pat the top of her head, awkward as it was.
❝Ah--... Yeah. It’s me.❞ He muttered stiffly. ❝... Can you let go of me now?❞
