[It's a good thing that dream ends there- Chikusa's burning cheeks carry into the waking world from his chagrin. So do other things, of course, but that's what morning showers and prayer are for.]
[For a full day, he continues on with what has become his new normal. There are hints of the old, of course, a schedule and dedication to the church he's determined to hold onto even with all that's happened. The new is mainly his prayers for forgiveness, and his quietly awkward attempts to fit into a world he seems so detached from. The promise of time given is a relief, at least, for him to recover from the things he's done.]
[Frankly, he needs it. Kisses and brief grinds of their bodies- that's one thing. But now it feels as if his body has been awakened to desire. Even just taking a regular shower reminds him of eyes roaming his body and a commanding tone that makes him quiver. Pants he once could wear with no problem now feel too tight, reminding him of a pressure trapping him against his own couch. The thoughts torment him for a whole day and then some.]
[Things change on the third day.]
[The third day after his last visit from the demon, after all, is when he finishes checking in on all the individuals and families he requested help for.]
[Honestly, he almost misses the discrepancy. Things check out, at first. If he were less careful, less observant, surely he'd miss it. But... Chikusa is intelligent when it comes to things that aren't emotions or desire. Memorization, numbers, schedules- his mind is a logical one despite religion playing such an intrinsic role in his occupation.]
[It hits him, at the end of his day at the church: there's no possible way anything could have been done, even without his knowing, on the second night he came to him.]
[Cleaning inbetween the pews, Chikusa freezes. A part of his mind recoils from the idea, but it's such a small part. The rest of him starts going over all the information again, letting his body carry on as it is, and no. No he's not forgetting something, not misconstruing something.]
[He was lied to.]
[It's very simple. Unsurprising, even. Demons lie. How long has he been told that fundamental truth? Seen it be proven exorcism after exorcism? Yet even with that knowledge and experience, he withdraws into himself, cold and distant as he returns to his minuscule home. It's almost strange, in a way. He goes about his schedule just like usual, superficially the same as normal, but...]
[It hits him after his evening prayer, laying in bed. Out of nowhere, a surprise sledgehammer to his chest, he sucks in a wet breath and finds his eyes stinging. Even stranger, he finds himself wanting to laugh at his own folly instead of necessarily sob.]
["I'm curious about you." Ha. "A rare human, enough to pique my interest." Ha. He'd denounced them as lies, but did he believe them in the end? Did he want to believe them? Or maybe they were truths, but demons lie so how could you distinguish truth from falsehood in the end? Or maybe he's thinking too much of it in that area. Perhaps it really was the physical that got to him in the end- not only the blinding pleasure but a brush of fingers, a tender encounter of lips, arms wrapping around him like he matters.]
[His life really is so pitifully empty if he's become so hungry for attentions, no matter if they're from a demon.]
[The next day finds him feeling hollow, realization having wiped him clean of everything besides a weariness that penetrates his very bones. It occurs to him, over a simple lunch, that he can't let this continue.]
[He's being used. That much is painfully obvious. He's straying from God's light- has been ever since he agreed to call the demon again. And...]
[...There's no one in his life. Not truly. Even the people who have taken him in as family reach out only as obligation, he knows that now. Still. Still. He has his pride. He's not so pathetic that he'll let himself be strung along by a demon as his only comfort.]
[Bitterness, the burning flickers of anger, and Chikusa tries to distract himself from them. He goes out again, trying to find more things to fill his life. He makes plans in his head, slapdash bones for the future, a future on his own and without any infernal dreams.]
[He thinks over words. A lot of words.]
[And, most importantly of all, Chikusa waits for the next dream to welcome him in his sleep.]
no subject
[For a full day, he continues on with what has become his new normal. There are hints of the old, of course, a schedule and dedication to the church he's determined to hold onto even with all that's happened. The new is mainly his prayers for forgiveness, and his quietly awkward attempts to fit into a world he seems so detached from. The promise of time given is a relief, at least, for him to recover from the things he's done.]
[Frankly, he needs it. Kisses and brief grinds of their bodies- that's one thing. But now it feels as if his body has been awakened to desire. Even just taking a regular shower reminds him of eyes roaming his body and a commanding tone that makes him quiver. Pants he once could wear with no problem now feel too tight, reminding him of a pressure trapping him against his own couch. The thoughts torment him for a whole day and then some.]
[Things change on the third day.]
[The third day after his last visit from the demon, after all, is when he finishes checking in on all the individuals and families he requested help for.]
[Honestly, he almost misses the discrepancy. Things check out, at first. If he were less careful, less observant, surely he'd miss it. But... Chikusa is intelligent when it comes to things that aren't emotions or desire. Memorization, numbers, schedules- his mind is a logical one despite religion playing such an intrinsic role in his occupation.]
[It hits him, at the end of his day at the church: there's no possible way anything could have been done, even without his knowing, on the second night he came to him.]
[Cleaning inbetween the pews, Chikusa freezes. A part of his mind recoils from the idea, but it's such a small part. The rest of him starts going over all the information again, letting his body carry on as it is, and no. No he's not forgetting something, not misconstruing something.]
[He was lied to.]
[It's very simple. Unsurprising, even. Demons lie. How long has he been told that fundamental truth? Seen it be proven exorcism after exorcism? Yet even with that knowledge and experience, he withdraws into himself, cold and distant as he returns to his minuscule home. It's almost strange, in a way. He goes about his schedule just like usual, superficially the same as normal, but...]
[It hits him after his evening prayer, laying in bed. Out of nowhere, a surprise sledgehammer to his chest, he sucks in a wet breath and finds his eyes stinging. Even stranger, he finds himself wanting to laugh at his own folly instead of necessarily sob.]
["I'm curious about you." Ha. "A rare human, enough to pique my interest." Ha. He'd denounced them as lies, but did he believe them in the end? Did he want to believe them? Or maybe they were truths, but demons lie so how could you distinguish truth from falsehood in the end? Or maybe he's thinking too much of it in that area. Perhaps it really was the physical that got to him in the end- not only the blinding pleasure but a brush of fingers, a tender encounter of lips, arms wrapping around him like he matters.]
[His life really is so pitifully empty if he's become so hungry for attentions, no matter if they're from a demon.]
[The next day finds him feeling hollow, realization having wiped him clean of everything besides a weariness that penetrates his very bones. It occurs to him, over a simple lunch, that he can't let this continue.]
[He's being used. That much is painfully obvious. He's straying from God's light- has been ever since he agreed to call the demon again. And...]
[...There's no one in his life. Not truly. Even the people who have taken him in as family reach out only as obligation, he knows that now. Still. Still. He has his pride. He's not so pathetic that he'll let himself be strung along by a demon as his only comfort.]
[Bitterness, the burning flickers of anger, and Chikusa tries to distract himself from them. He goes out again, trying to find more things to fill his life. He makes plans in his head, slapdash bones for the future, a future on his own and without any infernal dreams.]
[He thinks over words. A lot of words.]
[And, most importantly of all, Chikusa waits for the next dream to welcome him in his sleep.]