The Pseudo Semicolon

CHAPTER 13: Questions and Questions

Devland woke up with his whole body in pain. He groaned and sat up on the bed—wait, bed?

Devland looked around the room, studying the peeling wallpapers and the clean study table with rows of books stacked against the wall beside it. There were two doors; one of them was wide open, the delicious smell of food wafting in, while the other was closed. Devland guessed that it led to the bathroom.

He felt movement near him, and looked down at the sleepy face of Akira. The boy was in a deep slumber, his hand draped across Devland's lap as he mumbled something. His black hair curled prettily on the pillow and Devland had the inane urge to reach out and run his fingers through it.

Akira muttered something in his sleep and turned to the other side, exposing his bare back to Devland. The latter saw some disguised muscles moving as the former turned and had to force himself to look away. It was only then did Devland realise that he too was shirtless.

"Fuck—fuckfuckfuck–" Devland panicked, staring at the mirror opposite to him. In its reflection, he saw a frightened boy with dark eye bags brimming his eyes, his blackish brown hair a wild mess. The boy looked exhausted, like he had aged a hundred years, like he was forever grieving over all the things he lost.

Devland scrambled away from himself and let out a cry as he realised he was in nothing but his boxer shorts. What the fuck happened here?

He stumbled towards his pants; desperately looking for the concealer he hid in his pockets. He didn't want to look—he didn't want to acknowledge the scars that marred his thighs, didn't want to acknowledge the scars that marred his stomach. He didn't want to acknowledge the past.

Devland's blood ran cold as he heard Akira's groan from the bed, and in a fit of emergency, he put on the first shirt he could find, covering his body. He looked at the drowsy Akira, his fingers trembling. Did he see?

"What the fuck—Devland?" Akira's eyes widened in shock. He stared down at his chest, and then glanced back at Devland, his mind connecting some dots. "Did we—?"

"You didn't." A feminine voice said from the doorway and Devland yelped. The voice belonged to an elderly woman, with kind black eyes and greying hair. She held a tray in her hand and smiled at Devland.

Unfortunately it didn't help calm Devland. He felt like imaginary pairs of eyes were staring at him, mocking at him and jeering at him because of his scars. He didn't say anything, simply hugging himself and barreling towards the door, running out of the room and the house.

Devland heard Akira yell his name, he felt someone grab his shoulder but he swatted the hand away. He stared at Akira, his eyes wide and frightened, his arms still fiercely trying to yank the sleeves over his scars. Where was his concealer?

"Uh..." Akira started, he was still shirtless, and Devland would've admired the view if it wasn't for this beastly panic attack he was about to have, "Are you looking for this?"

Akira produced the concealer from his pant pocket, handing it to Devland who snatched it away from his palms eagerly. "How–how'd you? —are you wearing my—"

"Yes." Akira said sheepishly, "And you're wearing my shirt. Guess that makes us even."

Devland blushed furiously, immediately dabbing on the liquid as Akira averted his eyes. He applied it gently over the white lines, lifted his shirt and applied it to his stomach and then on his knees and thighs. Now they were all hidden.

"Any idea what the fuck happened here?" Akira chuckled, folding his arms over his chest as he finally faced Devland.

Devland thought for a moment, the memories of last night slowly dripping into his mind, "I have a vague idea; It involves us drunkenly walking down the street towards your house, taking off our clothes and going to bed."

"Nothing else happened?"

"Not that I remember—I was mostly sober. However you did try to set fire to the school and I may have almost helped you do that. I mean—we almost bought some gallons of gasoline."

"That—kinda makes sense. Man, I'm never going to drink again." Akira groaned, though there was a playful twinkle in his eyes.

"I don't know." Devland shrugged as he remembered the way Akira had leaned his head against Devland's shoulder and even had lent him Bobby's jacket, "You're sweet when you're drunk. Way more tolerable than sober you."

"Oh?" Akira grinned slyly, "Am I now? Do you want me to lend you my jacket more?"

"Annnd you're annoying me again." Devland deadpanned, though he felt butterflies fluttering in his stomach. "Fuck, I think I scared your mom. She must be wondering what sort of lunatic I am."

"The type who trespasses dead peoples' houses." Akira jabbed a finger into Devland's ribs, "C'mon, breakfast's ready."

Devland raised his eyebrow quizzically, "What do you mean?"

"Don't think I'm letting you leave this place without eating." Akira threatened as he grabbed Devland's wrist and dragged him inside the house.

Devland found himself sitting on the floor, in front of a small dining table. Akira's mother and Akira shared some banter and his mother politely asked him if he needed more food and if he wanted a spoon instead of some chopsticks.

Devland refused and explained the fact that he could understand and speak perfect Japanese. He ate using chopsticks and tried not to choke on the food. After he finished, he cleaned the bowl and laid it out to rInse at the small basin near the kitchen sink. He gave Akira a quizzical look as the latter seemed to be looking at him with wide eyes. "What?"

"I—" Akira shook his head, breaking into a smile, "It's nothing."

"You better bag that one, son." Devland heard Mrs. Fukumoto whisper to Akira, "Handsome and polite? Don't fumble this opportunity."

Devland secretly grinned, putting on his shoes and walking out of the house after saying his goodbyes. He started walking down the street, Akira at his heels.

"You should listen to your mother, Fukumoto." Devland smirked, "Don't fumble this opportunity."

"Cocky bastard." Akira grinned brightly, running a hand through his hair. He was still wearing Devland's pants, even though it was short. Devland didn't comment on it, secretly liking the fact that Akira was wearing his clothes.

"You have the location with you?" Devland asked instead, enjoying the feeling of being in one of Akira's shirts.

"Mmm yeah, it's a little far out. We gotta take the bus." Akira nodded, leading the way for Devland. They made their way to the little bus station, bickering about one thing or the other and enjoying each other's company.

"First time boarding a bus, princess?" Akira teased as Devland looked around, a little queasy, "Want me to hold your hand?"

"Yes." Devland agreed a little bit too quickly, before clearing his throat, "I mean, perhaps." Then he took a seat beside the window, looking out at the blurring scenery as he ignored him blushing.

'Fuck it.' Devland thought and sneaking a peek at where Akira's hand was, he slipped his own into it. Akira didn't question it and instead gave Devland's hand a squeeze. His hand is warm.

I wonder if mine is cold.

Soon, the anxiousness passed and yet, Devland didn't want to let go of Akira's hand. He felt nervous, his heart beating so quickly and loudly that he was sure Akira could hear it.