Blood Contract | Diavolo X Reader

11| The Secret Kissing of Sun and Moon

SICK!

Fingers in the back of his throat, coaxing and teasing dinner to crawl forth in spewing fountains. Sweat slicked across pale skin, that ugly, horrible hue of purple lipstick falling with the rolling beads a begging of ill is prayed.

A pillar of light streamed from that place distant, he welcomes himself to another of self-reflection on past mistakes. Kiss them? He kissed them. 

 "Boss, you're worrying me." Doppio says as he sits ankles crossed, watching, on the edge of the bathtub.

"Thut uhp, no uhn ahked youh." Diavolo gags for a moment, yet does not retreat his fingers for a moment as he is sure, now, that was just what he needed to toss it up.

Squelching, coughing, ripped air as a waterfall of colorful chunks lands in splashes. Doppio gags and plugs his nose, looking away, as Diavolo coughs out what is left in the pit of his turning stomach.

The toilet swallows it with a gargling swish, the remnant spit dropping into its vortex. 

"I looked into what Aabha said, like you asked." Risotto appears at the doorway without a sound. "The Kumari are young girls who have a Newari or Hindu deity living within them. (Y/n) was revered as an incarnation of Durga in their youth."

Sure as shit.

Diavolo haphazardly snatches some toilet paper to wipe his mouth with, unrolling the roll significantly. Doppio keeps his nose pinched. "That's cool."

"No it isn't," Diavolo spits into the toilet again, and flushes. "And did you bring my water like I asked."

Risotto puts his phone away. "No. N'Doul and Foo Fighters have the kitchen on lockdown as they clean. (Y/n) has locked themselves in their study."

"Locked?"

"They have not left since Aabha had taken leave."

"And? I'm sure they're back to work."

Risotto didn't move a bit, however, the subtly delivered  change of expression gave away inner thoughts only Diavolo seemed ever capable of picking out.

"You go check on them." He said. "Or Wekapipo."

"They haven't opened the door for anyone yet." Risotto replied. "But I can hear things moving, so I'm sure nothing is too out of the ordinary. Maybe they're just as disgusted with themselves as you are, so they're hiding."

"No," Doppio said, "I think, that they really smiled after. What I saw made it seem like all other were plastic."

"It were," Risotto said.

The talk of what joy could've stemmed from that kiss was enough to make Diavolo sick again. Holding his pride in his stomach he swallows deeply, thickly it all wash's back down with sink water to chase. 

What sour feelings had him to draw upon ill for relief— there was none. He felt only sweet things, giddy love is foreign, misdiagnosed for disgust.

"Who cares. It isn't my problem." 

Neither Risotto nor Doppio said a word. They didn't have to, because Diavolo could hear their thoughts synced to truth, and it were like this:

Oh it is, for whence pulled from the ignition of emotion erupted through your face as flowers blooming in a cold spring. Wonderful things sparkled behind your eyes and your trembling excitement pulled the air from your fluttering lungs. Oh what a heart to have that may beat as fast.

Isn't it your problem, when all you can think is not about is their chapped lips, but the fact that they hit yours. Isn't it when you can still feel their arms wrap around your shape, though their tie pressed into your skin you trace that bruise fondly.