The Pseudo Semicolon

CHAPTER 18: Akira Alone

Akira:
"Are you sure you're fine?" Akira asked Devland for the gazillionth time.

"Totally. And I'll call you everyday to let you know I'm still alive." Devland chuckled.

Akira was nervous—no, nervous was the feeling you get when you're balancing glass plates on your arms and you don't want it to fall down, nervous was the feeling you get when you're about to engage in your first fist fight with your friend all because he said "Eat shit!" to one gang member.

What he was feeling right now? It was fear; the fear of losing someone you love, the fear of regretting the fact that you let go. This decision split into two roads, and Akira took the one less travelled by,

It's been five days since the incident. He gave Devland some alone time to process things, and he wanted to process things too. Golden boy Maximilian, The Greatest—used as a sacrifice in some fucked up ritual.

This was a cruel story, where the villains were still at large. They could kill anyone they wanted right now and their money and power and status would get them out of jail. Only the victims were suffering.

He remembered visiting Mr. Rogers' house, watching the old lady beat the ground with her knobbly fists and scream at the sky. She had clutched Akira feverishly, her bloody hands dripping scarlet down the back of his shirt.

"Aster—Aster–" The woman had stuttered, clasping his forearms as she looked up at him with wet eyes, "Aster—he's gone. My James is gone. My grandchildren—everyone is gone."

"Mrs. Rogers..." Akira had tried comforting the grandma, but he instead cried along with her. He's always been weak like that; he cried when he saw his mother was crying, he cried when he scraped his knee, he cried when his father was fired from his last job. His heart twisted, his soul ripped itself apart whenever he saw the people he loved crying.

It was a special type of pain.

Akira shook himself out of his reverie and stared down at Devland, searching his brown eyes for any sign of life—but it was gone. It looked the same as it did the first day he met him—dull.

It hurt considering that it used to sparkle so brightly.

"You better come back in one piece, or else I'll revive you and kill you again." Akira tried for a smile, masking his uneasiness.

"I would love to be killed by you."

"Oh?" Akira sat down on Devland's bed, looking up at him with mischief dancing in his eyes, "How about living with me?"

"That—That sounds better. I'll try not to get killed." Devland cupped Akira's face, which made his heart race. God, was he making a bad decision?

Devland leaned down and kissed Akira immediately, setting his heart ablaze. He wrapped his arms around the boy, pulling him closer as he let out a delighted laugh when Devland planted a surprise kiss on his neck. He was pretty sure his face was red.

"Do you want me to come with you to Charlie's house?" Akira asked, trying to hide his desperation, as Devland ran his fingers through his hair, "It's dark afterall."

It was dark; night looming over them with its star-spangled body. She was comforting at times—but not tonight. Tonight, she held a sinister smile with her crescent moon teeth.

"Okay." Devland nodded and the two of them walked out of Devland's house. They talked about random stuff until they reached the bus station, and after entering a bus, they went silent. None of them broached the subject of their discoveries.

Akira looked over at Devland, who was looking out of the window. The boy's cheeks had gotten a little more daunt; he looked more exhausted than usual, his hair looked like it hadn't been washed in days. He was wearing a short red shirt that revealed his midriff and a collared neck with some black pants. His coat was bundled up on his lap.