“Woz, you’re here again,” Sougo calls out as he waves at the man standing on top of the jungle gym.

It’s a pretty funny image, this so-called retainer of his, with his ill-fit clothes for the heat of the looming summer and his model-like face, exuding as much of his mysterious aura as anyone perched on top of a children’s playground can. Sougo leaves his bicycle on the sidewalk, skipping down the grassy slope of the park to get closer.

Woz smiles at him and bows in response, but the tension of the gesture doesn’t escape Sougo.

“My demon king, you’ve come looking for me again,” he says in place of a greeting, “surely it’s not to ask me questions you know I cannot answer?” he adds, evenly.

Sougo laughs, absentmindedly kicking the base of the jungle gym. He’s been coming to the park a few days a week to badger Woz with questions about this other world he vaguely mentioned when they first met, yielding rather lacking results despite his best efforts. Woz had claimed he was always near him, so this park rendezvous was not really necessary, but Sougo still hasn’t quite warmed up to the idea that this person is always at his beck and call, just around the corner. Having a concrete place to meet makes things a little less awkward.

“Hm… Not today, no. I’m curious about something else.” He puts his hands on the edge of the platform to lift himself up the first step. Drumming on the surface with his fingers, he looks at Woz in the eye.

“Oh?” Woz holds his gaze, his smiling mask kept in place. His left foot slides back gracefully, shifting the weight of his body. “What could my demon king possibly want to know about?”

“It must be pretty hot up there, with the sun baking this thing,” Sougo points out, knocking on the platform.

“I’m not bothered by such things,” Woz explains, his neck shiny with sweat.

Sougo hums. “You know, a policeman is bound to come and question you for suspicious behavior. This is a children’s playground.”

“I’m good at hiding, so it’s fine.”

They smile at each other in silence. A cyclist crosses the street, the bell of her bike ringing as warning to pedestrians. A dog’s bark can be heard from somewhere on the other side of the park.

Before Woz is able to jump out of reach, Sougo’s hand zooms forward to clamp around his ankle. The man falls unceremoniously on his ass, yelping in a most undignified way.

“Please let me go, my demon king,” he groans, grabbing onto a pole for leverage.

“No.” Sougo’s grip tightens around the wiggling limb. “You’re always trying to run away!”

Woz grunts with the effort of pulling himself away from Sougo. “I’m only following your orders! You told me to keep my distance!”

“I take that order back then! It’s old news! Didn’t you say I’m your king?”

Using both feet to push away from the platform, Sougo pulls as hard as he can on Woz’s leg just as the man stops struggling, dragging him to the edge, and then it’s Sougo’s turn to fall on his ass with a thud. The sky is clear, and Sougo has to put up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. The dog keeps barking in the distance.

Blowing his bangs away from his face, Sougo lifts himself from the grass, half expecting Woz to be gone. But he’s still there, one leg dangling from the edge of the jungle gym. Woz looks down at his lap in silence, fixing the front of his coat. With one hand he smooths the fabric in slow motions, while his other hand holds his book close to his chest. A bead of sweat falls from his brow, and he blinks away the discomfort. He looks back at Sougo then, still catching his breath.

“Alright then.”

Sougo straightens his back. He tries his best to keep himself from breaking into a grin. Victory.

Sougo holds a one-sided conversation with Woz on their slow way home. He walks instead of riding his bike out of consideration for his companion, but the other insists on staying a few paces behind him anyway. He figures it doesn’t hurt to introduce himself properly even if Woz seems to already be very familiar with him, so he passes the time talking about his friends and family and kingly dreams. Woz offers a “hmm” and “is that so” every now and then to signal he’s listening, but mostly stays quiet.

When they reach Kujigojidou, Woz freezes at the doorway, one foot in the building. The sound of activity at the counter seems to bring him back to reality, and Sougo watches him quickly summon his practiced mask of politeness for uncle and his client.

“Welcome back, Sougo-kun. Oh, who’s this?”

“Good afternoon,” Woz begins in a pleasing tone, bowing at the older man, but before he can introduce himself, Sougo puts a hand on his back and pushes him towards the stairs.

“It’s only Woz.” Sougo replies instead, already out of his shoes. He shoves Woz down to sit on the stair landing to get his shoes off too. “You seem busy, uncle, so we’ll leave you to work. Excuse us!” He bows at uncle’s client as he hurries to drag Woz up the stairs before uncle can ask any more questions.

It’s only after Sougo locks the bedroom door behind them that Woz snaps at him. “What are you doing?” he squeaks, a wild look in his eyes as he looks around the room.

Sougo thinks he looks a little bit like a caged animal. He puts his hands up to placate him. “I figured we couldn’t really talk in front of them, so I brought you to my room.” He drops his backpack on his desk chair and grabs a hand towel from his basket of clean laundry. “Here,” he says, offering it to Woz, who grabs it without thinking, and proceeds to flop down on his bed face-first. Sougo sighs happily at the cool feeling of the sheets under him.

“Uh.”

“It’s for all that sweat on your face,” Sougo explains, voice muffled by the bed. “You must be boiling under that coat.”

He hears Woz sputter. “I’m not--” he huffs, stopping in the middle of his sentence. The feeling of the bed dipping minutely makes Sougo look up, and he sees Woz sit down on the corner furthest away from him. “Thank you, my demon king.” he says, facing away from Sougo.

Sougo lifts himself to a sitting position, suddenly feeling the awkwardness of the situation weigh down on him. Bringing the mysterious man he had met not that long ago to his bedroom isn’t exactly standard stranger danger procedure. He’s a little too old to be getting lectures on such things at school, but he can still imagine his teacher’s severe face if he were to find out anyway. Still, whatever the truth is, Woz seems to know him too well to be a regular, if supernatural, stalker. Geiz of all people had warmed up to him, too, which was enough confirmation for Sougo that Woz couldn’t be a bad person. And if Woz is right about the strange power they all now hold, then his claims of Sougo becoming a king… The thought is too exciting.

He watches Woz, who delicately dabs on his face and neck with the towel Sougo gave him. He feels less sure about his kidnapping plan now that he’s actually caught Woz. Sougo looks down at the floor when he feels something under his sole, using his feet to push a bundle of magazines under his bed. It’s been a while since he’s had a visitor. He wonders if his room smells okay.

“I want you to tell me about yourself.”

Woz turns his head to look at him, irritation bleeding into his patient tone as he repeats the same words he’s been answering Sougo’s questions with. “I can’t tell you about those things. It’d be interfering with this timeline.”

Sougo shakes his head. “No, I got that already. I just want to know who you are to me, I guess. You can tell me that much, right?”

Something shifts in Woz’s expression. His lips press into a thin line and his gaze lowers to focus on the bed, eyebrows furrowed. When he looks back up at Sougo’s face, his dark eyes make Sougo shift uncomfortably. He fights the sudden urge to leave the room.

“Sougo Tokiwa. You are to be the greatest, most wonderful demon king,” Woz purrs. “I am but your humble servant.”

A breathy laugh escapes Sougo, heart beating with excitement. His dream, his wildest dream, it will become true. It’s fine if his only proof right now is the strange device he always carries in his pocket and the word of this stranger in front of him. It will do for now.

“Ha ha, I’m still starstruck. I mean, I always knew it’d become true, you know? But to hear you say it… It’s a little amazing.” Sougo scratches the back of his head, a wide grin on his face. “You must be my greatest ally then, huh? Thank you for your support.” he muses, giggling.

“I used you.”

Sougo’s laugh slows to a halt. “What?”

“I lied to you. I manipulated you. I betrayed you,” Woz hisses. He stands in front of Sougo now, his figure a dark contrast against the light coming in from the window behind him. Sougo swallows. Woz’s body is slender, but he packs a lot more strength than he appears to have. And Sougo has witnessed how frightening his powers can be.

“W-Wait a second,” he stutters, putting his hands up as panic rises up his throat. Woz takes a step forward and Sougo almost screams, heart racing with fear as he half expects Woz is going to eat him too, the memory of their first meeting fresh in his mind’s eye.

But Woz is at his feet instead, bowing so low his hair brushes against the spot where the magazines had been. “I did not deserve your generosity, yet you forgave me every time,” he says.

Sougo chews on the inside of his mouth. What on Earth is he supposed to say to that? He thought Woz’s answer would be easy enough, something as simple as ‘a friend’. He didn’t expect his little probing to result in a confession of betrayal he doesn’t even have any memory of. Sougo doesn’t know anything about this person. Did he really forgive him? If so, why?

He leans forward to look at Woz. Sougo can see the pins shining through his hair, carefully keeping his styling in place. The twist of his braids, pulled only tight enough to keep their shape. The deliberate fall of his long locks. Sougo wonders what his hair feels like to the touch.

“I guess that means I must have liked you a lot then.”

Woz’s bow deepens, his forehead almost touching the ground. “I’m not worthy of such kindness, my demon king.”

Sougo sees Woz’s hair touch the tips of his toes and he twists his feet away, feeling guilty. “That’s enough, please get up,” he tells Woz, pulling him up by an arm. He hasn’t dusted in a while and it shames him to think that Woz’s careful hairdo is sweeping up the dirt. Woz stands up quickly, looking a little lost. It makes Sougo huff out a laugh, and he taps on the space next to him as an invitation. Woz sits on the bed again, fiddling with his book’s cover.

“If I forgave you, then that’s all there is to it, right? And anyway, we’ve just met, so none of that really matters.” He nods once, having reached a satisfactory conclusion. “You believe in my dream, so let’s be friends, Woz.”

Woz shoots him a troubled look but says nothing, lips tightly closed again. He grabs at his book, fingering the clasp. He unlocks it, slides a finger under the cover, and then seems to make up his mind, locking it again. Sougo wonders what the book is about.

“My demon king.”

It’s a curious title, that one. Sougo likes the ‘king’ part of it of course, but he’s not quite used to being called a demon. He looks up to Woz’s face. “Yeah?”

“Do you,” Woz pauses to lick his lips. “Do you like me now?”

Sougo stares at his shiny lips. Certainly, Sougo’s had fun during their recent meetings, but Woz is still a mystery to him. He’s kept himself at a safe distance, their conversations polite but detached. Always drifting just out of reach. His words of encouragement towards Sougo’s dream never fail to fluff up his confidence, but other than that… What is there to like, if he can’t approach him?

There are stress lines around Woz’s frowning mouth. Sougo would like to know what can burden a fleeting person like Woz to the point of wrinkles.

The tilt of his head causes Woz’s hair to fall over his right eye. Sougo snaps his hand up on impulse, itching to sate his curiosity. He runs his fingers through Woz’s hair, digits bent to lightly scratch on his scalp. It’s disappointingly not as soft as he’d expected, but the coarse texture isn’t a bad feeling at all. His hand stops at Woz’s nape, where he grabs at a lock of hair to roll it between his index and his thumb. Sougo hums. “Sure,” he answers, “I think I like you, Woz.”

The undiluted look of shock that appears in Woz’s flushed face makes Sougo snap his hand back. “Um, sorry, I just,” he stammers, stumbling and failing to find a reasonable excuse while Woz stares at him, wide-eyed. Sougo’s hand hovers uselessly between them. After a moment of hesitation, he lets it fall to his lap in a closed fist.

Woz turns his body towards Sougo then. He presses his book to his chest in a white-knuckled grip. His mouth opens, but no words come out. “Could you say that again?” he asks in a low tone after a moment. He licks his lips again.

“What?”

“Your answer. Could you repeat that?”

Some instinct in the back of Sougo’s mind vaguely warns him that the conversation has switched gears. He glances at Woz’s vice grip on his book, unsure if he should take that as a threatening gesture. “I like you,” he offers, perhaps sounding a little more unsure than intended.

Woz’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh”, he lets out, more an exhale than a response. He backs away from Sougo’s personal space, adjusting his posture, and holds his head high, facing away from Sougo in some attempt at nonchalance. “That’s. Kind of you, my demon king,” he adds stiffly.

Sougo frowns. “What was that about?”

Woz clears his throat. “Nothing.”

Sougo rather feels like he’s the last in the line of a telephone game here. It’s more than a little frustrating. He squints at Woz; if his words won’t be honest, perhaps his body will be. He watches him quietly shift his feet against each other, knees pressed together. His book rests on his lap now, firmly kept in place by tense hands. Sougo puts his hand on Woz’s shoulder. “Hey,” he insists, turning him around to take a look at his face. Woz averts his eyes. His cheeks are red.

It’s Sougo’s turn to burn holes through Woz with his stare. “Huuuuh?” He hangs on to Woz’s shoulder with both hands now, playfully shaking him back and forth, a toothy grin growing on his face. “What’s this?” he asks, “Wow, you enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

“Please don’t tease me, my demon king,” Woz mutters, distress clearly painting his features. This side of Woz, Sougo thinks, is much more amusing than his enigmatic front. Woz leans away from Sougo in a weak attempt to escape the situation, but makes no moves to actually leave the room or make the other let go of his arm.

Sougo takes this as an invitation to press on. “Is that like a thing we did?” he taunts, “I’d praise you for good behavior or something?” Sougo laughs at the strangeness of the idea. Being a king seems to come with bizarre responsibilities, like transforming into a masked hero to fight terrifying monsters, or keeping his retainer happy with positive verbal reinforcement. Well, nothing he can’t handle. He’s having fun.

But his teasing doesn’t have the desired effect. The stress lines return to Woz’s face. “No, you didn’t…” Woz trails off, hesitating. “It wasn’t like that,” he says with finality, offering Sougo a polite smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He raises a hand to his shoulder to gently push Sougo’s hands away. “It’s time for me to--”

Sougo fists his hands on Woz’s sleeve to pull at it in one firm motion that makes the man go quiet. He releases him after a beat, pressing the abused fabric against his arm with an open palm in a hasty attempt at smoothing it. Placing his right hand on the bed, he shifts his weight to it as he leans in close to Woz’s ear. Sougo cups his left hand around his mouth as if he wants to share a secret no one else should hear.

“Woz,” he whispers, “I like you.”

He hears Woz take a shaky gasp. Sougo wants to see what kind of face Woz is making, but something tells him if he were to move away now Woz would vanish before he could take a look at him. He moves a little closer instead, a few loose strands of Woz’s hair tickling his lips. “I like you,” he says once more. “I like you, I like you.”

“Please,” Woz sobs out with a shudder. He crumbles under Sougo’s words, head lowered as much as he can, facing away from Sougo but not yet running away.

Sougo scoots closer to him, chasing after his ear. Woz’s hair is a pleasant discomfort against his face. “Please what?” he coos. Woz shakes his head vigorously in place of an answer, curling into himself as he leans further away Sougo.

That won’t do. Not ungently, Sougo grabs Woz by his wrist, pressing his index and middle fingers against it. The speeding thrumming of his blood draws a giggle out of Sougo. “Your heart is beating so fast, Woz,” he marvels, mirth affecting his tone, “would you like me to say it again?”

He’d have missed it if he wasn’t looking, but it’s there. Woz gives him the most minute of nods. Sougo pouts. “You have to say it out loud or I won’t do it,” he says, voice gentle but firm, the fingers at Woz’s wrist drawing lazy circles on his skin as if to encourage him.

Woz makes a little noise, and then he’s glaring at Sougo from behind his shoulder. Sougo grins. It’s as if he’s taming some creature. He briefly considers that maybe he should be a little more cautious than he’s acting, poking and prodding at Woz as he is right now, the professed traitor’s previous displays of strength looming in the back of Sougo’s mind as a warning. But Sougo feels like he’s catching on fast to what the dynamic between them is meant to be like. Used to be, will be, whatever. He’d rather not think too much about the implications of time travel. Right now, he’s only interested in the way Woz’s face is burning. It’s alright to keep pushing, he decides.

“Have mercy,” Woz whines.

“Be a good boy and ask properly.”

Woz closes his eyes tightly. He takes a deep breath, makes an effort to relax his face, and in the most neutral voice he can muster, he begs. “Please... Please tell me again.”

A warm feeling spreads through Sougo’s chest. Woz is very endearing like this. “I don’t know, you don’t sound like you mean it.”

Woz gapes at him, appalled. “M-My king!”

Sougo laughs, setting Woz’s hand back down over his book and giving it a light pat. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he says, “come here.” He grabs on to his sleeve, delicately this time, just enough for Woz to feel the pull of it. Woz moves back into his space without complaint, closing his eyes again and keeping his head low. Sougo closes the space between them, shifting his position to discreetly nuzzle Woz’s hair. The warm smell of sunlight clings to him still, and something else too. A faint scent that reminds Sougo of the times he’s dozed off in the library. It’s comforting, familiar.

He tilts his head to set his lips by Woz’s ear, raising his hand as if to cup his mouth again. Instead, he begins to play with Woz’s hair, softly pulling at his sideburns. His hair there is softer. “Hey, Woz,” he asks, “do you like me?”

“Yes, of, of course,” Woz babbles under his breath, nodding in frantic affirmation, “I like my demon king more than anything in the world.”

His earnest response makes Sougo’s stomach flip-flop. He can feel his own face grow hot. Woz’s eyes remain closed, and for some reason Sougo feels grateful that his reaction has gone unnoticed. He swallows to clear his throat. “Eh? That much?” he asks, impish.

Woz’s efforts to nod his answer out double, hair falling in disarray. “Yes, yes.” His hair tickles Sougo, who giggles blissfully, scrunching up his nose at the feeling.

Sougo’s fingers trace a path down Woz’s neck, thumb caressing his jawline, and travel all the way around to the other side of his face to stroke his cheek. He can feel Woz’s trembling breath ghost over his palm. Sougo is delighted by the way Woz has lost all composure under his ministrations. “My retainer is too cute,” he murmurs, “I like that. I like you a lot, Woz. My cute retainer, my Woz.”

Like clockwork, Woz’s whole body jolts at his words. Sougo snickers. It’s so amusing to him, the way Woz responds to a little affection. He wants more of these charming reactions. Sougo presses his lips against the shell of Woz’s ear, against his sideburns, against his cheekbone. Woz makes some unintelligible noise, and when Sougo presses his hand against Woz’s cheek to turn his head towards him, he feels Woz reach up to grab at his forearms to steady himself. Sougo pauses to take him in. Woz’s flushed cheeks, his lips parted into a half-formed question, the look of helpless confusion in his eyes. It makes Sougo twitch.

He kisses Woz. It’s a clumsy act, having no experience in the matter, and he bumps their noses together before he figures he should tilt his head into a better angle. Sougo looks at Woz straight in the eye, watches shock mellow into submission, lashes fluttering as they close. Woz relaxes and leans into him, his lips pressing chastely against Sougo’s.

It’s too much all of a sudden. No, it’s not enough. Sougo feels warm all over, wanting to see more of this person’s soft side. His hands find their way onto Woz’s shoulders, firmly grabbing them as he pushes Woz down onto the bed. Woz’s grip on Sougo’s forearms tightens, but he yields without complaint, eyes squeezed shut. Sougo pecks at his lips, and Woz responds earnestly, blindly puckering his lips towards Sougo, head rising from the sheets.

Oh, he’s too cute. Sougo can’t help himself. He bites on Woz’s bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. Woz lets out a startled moan, hips bucking up. His book slips from his lap, falling to the floor with a loud thud.

They stand on opposite sides of the room in a second, catching their breath. Sougo’s heart beats as if he’s just run a mile. Woz stares at him warily, like Sougo’s pulled out a knife on him. He sucks on his torn lip, a stray drop of blood running down his chin, and fingers at the door’s handle to fiddle with the lock.

Sougo savors the coppery taste in his mouth. He takes two measured steps towards Woz, towards the bed, and he kneels down to grab the forgotten book. Sougo stays kneeling, sweeping a hand through the cover, tracing the symbols that adorn it. It’s the first time he’s gotten a good look at it. He looks back at Woz, offering him a hesitant smile as he stretches his arm towards him, treasured book on hand. Woz stares at the book, then at Sougo, and after a pause he approaches him, reaching for the book as soon as it’s within grabbing distance.

Sougo doesn’t let go right away. He pulls on the book. “Come visit me again,” he mumbles, losing confidence as he puts his hopes into words, “okay?”

Woz licks his lips. He nods once. When Sougo lets go of the book, Woz’s scarf surrounds him in an instant. He’s gone in a flurry that sends the papers on Sougo’s desk flying.

Sougo drops back onto the bed. The spot he buries his face on is too damn warm. He struggles out of his tie, unbuttoning his shirt halfway down his chest.

There’s a knock on the door. Uncle’s muffled voice comes in from behind it. “I brought iced tea for you and your friend.” He hears the sound of a tray being set on the floor, uncle’s fading footsteps as he walks back down the stairs.

He turns his head to look out the window. The sun suffocates the day away, no cloud in the sky to stop it.

fin