Chapter Text
Iruma remembers reading somewhere before that sometimes you go through life, each moment unchanging from the next, all the while yearning for something new to erupt beneath your feet. And then by chance, your whole world might implode and be rebuilt within a matter of seconds. After the night of the Deviculum, Iruma found himself considering how his world was going to be rebuilt. Though it had been half a week now, it felt like he had yet to move on fully.
Another school day had drawn to a close, and like many days before this, he was on his way home with Azz and Clara, the typical chaos between them ensuing. He felt like a husk walking next to them.
Iruma had been replaying that night’s events in his head relentlessly, and earned some scoldings from Kalego-sensei for zoning out in class. Iruma hadn’t expected to be this hung up on it, at least enough to distract him for a full school day. Well, if he’d been honest with himself, he'd been distracted, ever since that night. It surprised him more that he couldn't see an end in sight. Not only that, but it was only getting worse.
He only vaguely processed Azz and Clara chatting beside him. No matter how lively the two were, or how loudly they bickered, Iruma’s mind was elsewhere. A million miles away, stuck on all the incidents that had happened on that dreadful evening. How they made him doubt himself. As if he were a mere thread snagged on a branch, his senpai's words haunted him, refusing to leave the forefront of his mind. When you’re all alone, he’d said, I’ll be the one to accept you. Blood, flesh, bone and all.
The sight of Kirio’s gaping mouth had sent shivers down his spine.
Iruma felt nauseous, only drawn out of his thoughts by a gentle touch on his arm. As gentle as it was though, it didn’t stop Iruma from flinching away and almost stumbling on a crack. Asmodeus retracted away from him, concerned, with Clara following suit when their squabble abruptly ended. There was a sharp pain in his chest at the sight, and suddenly he felt like he was made of brittle glass and would shatter at any moment.
It pained Iruma to make his soulmates worry like this. Though quick to put on a smile, he could tell it didn’t do much to reassure either of them, Azz especially. He directly witnessed what happened, after all.
Whenever they had a free moment together, Asmodeus would try to bring up the topic of their chance meeting with Kirio. It stressed him out endlessly each time, but Iruma eventually discovered that his secret was safe from the ever-observant head of the class. Azz had gone on and on about the "distasteful threat" of eating Iruma, and seemed to have read no further into it. If his dear friend had connected the dots about his humanity in any way, he certainly didn’t show it. It was a relief, almost, but that didn’t stop Iruma’s stomach from churning with unease.
“Iruma-chi! Tell Azz-Azz that Muffle Wuffle Crackle Bang is NOT stupid!” Clara whined, wrapping herself around Iruma’s other arm like a clingy koala. Present now, Iruma wouldn’t shy away from the touch, but Azz would still shoot her a disapproving glare. She stuck her tongue out at him in response.
Iruma wasn't sure Clara was completely unaware of his dissonance, or if she had been trying to distract him from it. Either way, her efforts earned a genuine laugh from him, and he tussled her hair affectionately. The smile it spread across her face finally eased the tension in his heart, although Azz looked offended at the sight.
“I never said that it was stupid, stupid Clara!” Azz shot back in protest, “I said that calling fried chicken, Muffle Wuffle Crackle Bang, is stupid! Just call it fried chicken!”
There was a glint in Azz's eyes that told Iruma he was envious of Clara’s closeness. Giving up petting Clara’s head to offer his other arm, Asmodeus visibly hesitated. He was likely gauging whether or not Iruma was truly comfortable with it. But Iruma would only continue smiling patiently until Asmodeus wrapped himself around the outstretched arm, too. Then, he had a pair!
In an instant, Iruma felt lighter. A warmth wrapped around him like a blanket, and he held his soulmates close. Everything felt right as they started bickering again, and Iruma's forced smile became genuine once more.
It was a bit awkward to walk like this, given the trio’s differing heights, but he really couldn’t care less. It was like his friends were weighing his thoughts and self back down to earth, keeping him grounded, present. For this, he was thankful, finally able to enjoy a brief reprieve from the mental strife he'd been putting himself through.
They continued talking (arguing) like this for the rest of the way home, only managing to separate once they got to the front gate of Sullivan's mansion. The idea of letting Iruma leave seemed upsetting to both of them, made obvious by the hesitant look they shared. It seemed like his demeanor had been more noticeable than he’d hoped to let on. Waving them goodbye, he was sure he’d have a concerned text waiting for him once Asmodeus got home... and a thousand more from Clara, too.
Within the hour, while winding down on his bed before supper, he was already messaging back and insisting he was fine.
Asmodeus: Are you sure, Iruma-sama? Please excuse my impertinence, but you've seemed quite exhausted recently.
Iruma frowned at the message as he read it, unsure how to respond. His fingers hovered over the keys of his hellphone as his notification noise played in rapid succession.
Clara: AZZ-AZZ!!!!!!!! DONT BE RUDE!!!!
Clara: iruma-chi looks really really really tired becuz hes working so HARD!!
Clara: BOO!!! BOO!!!
Clara: you gotta be subtle
Clara: seduction 101, azz-azz, you should pay more attention in class
By the time Iruma finished turning the brightness of the screen down, multiple more messages exploded in the chat. He found his energy to respond dwindled with every new ding.
Asmodeus: STUPID Clara, THE ONLY UNSUBTLE ONE HERE IS YOU.
Clara: LA LA LA LA LA I CANT HEAR YOU LA LA LA
Asmodeus: you can't even HEAR ANYTHING?? This is a TEXT CONVERSATION?????
Iruma set his hellphone face-down on his nightstand as his notifications continued to go off, wiping his hands down his face.
The rest of the evening passed as usual. Dinner was always an escape for Iruma, allowing him the opportunity to fill his belly and not focus on anything else. It was nice to be able to genuinely relax while chatting with Opera and his grandfather. At some point, he thought that he wished he could spend forever like this, in the comfortable presence of his family. It felt so easy, and it helped remind him of a place where he felt like he belonged.
It also helped that his grandpa had no idea how to handle physical boundaries, hanging off of Iruma and constantly gushing over how cute his grandson was. Iruma could only smile and laugh, even as Opera scolded his grandpa for being too touchy. Sullivan would pout, and cry while being dragged back to his seat. Then they’d continue to have dinner, and Iruma would feel better by the second.
Despite learning to read his impassive security devil better over time, he’d still miss the worried look Opera gave him while he and his grandfather shared stories about their day. It did not go unnoticed, the subtle way Iruma would avoid talking about some things, and how he would hesitate when saying others. At least for a little while, with the combined efforts of his family and friends, Iruma seemed to be back to normal. That would ease Opera enough not to mention it, at least not tonight.
Unfortunately, all good things come to an end. The evening had come and gone now. Before he knew it, Iruma found himself lying back in bed, the dark of his room permitting his thoughts to wander once more. It wasn’t often that Iruma found it hard to actually fall asleep, tossing and turning endlessly. Was it possible that his brain was doing everything in its power to keep him awake? Or at least, awake long enough to shake out his senpai’s cruel words?
His words. Kirio’s promise, which seemed to have pierced him so deeply, left a wide hole in his mind where his stability used to be.
Despite his body's best efforts to keep him awake, it wouldn't be enough.
When Iruma’s eyelids closed on consciousness, they opened to a nightmare. It was a scene he had grown familiar with, from seeing it over and over again each night since the Deviculum. The dream always started the same; in an empty, cold void. Soon enough, his senpai would appear before him, like he had that night. Soft-spoken but merciless, Kirio’s taunting words drove through Iruma’s heart like arrows dipped in poison, shaking him to his core and keeping him glued to his spot. The demon's overwhelming presence was Iruma's prison.
Soon, all that existed was the dark, foreboding grave that was his senpai’s mouth. The feeling was always unclear in these dreams, as if muffled by cotton, but it always made his heart race in fear. The only way he could describe the sensation was like being utterly erased from existence — killed in all senses of the word. Welcomed by his senpai’s ravenous maw, the tomb his stomach. “Saved,” as Kirio had put it, and never to be thought of again if not as the human who didn’t belong. The human who thought he could belong, and met a deserving end because of it.
Iruma woke up in a cold sweat, heart threatening to beat out of his chest. When life returned to his body, he’d get up and throw himself halfway out the window, desperately filling his lungs with cold air. He always felt like he had been suffocating, almost as if the walls of the room would collapse around him. Iruma humorlessly wondered if it would feel the same to be devoured, just like the hell his brain seemed so intent on putting him through.
It would take Iruma a couple hours to fall back asleep. Thankfully, he was spared from experiencing the same nightmare twice in one night.
It seemed to show on his face more with each passing day, how this cycle was affecting him. Asmodeus was hard-pressed to hide his worry, and Clara was becoming clingier. His classmates had checked on him before, and of course he’d told them he was fine, that he just needed to try not to stay up so late. Maybe it convinced some of them, or maybe it didn’t — Iruma tried (and failed) not to think about it all the same. Even Kalego-sensei seemed to take pity on him, which is to say, his punishments seemed to become less harsh as time went on.
Iruma prayed to Derkila that he’d get over this eventually, to be able to move on and focus on climbing the ranks again. For all that Kirio’s words had shaken him, Iruma had still told him he’d be waiting to accept him at his side again. That was a promise he intended to keep.
Despite his best efforts, the night continued to be unfriendly. Iruma tried so hard to forget the distraught looks his grandfather and Opera shared between themselves when he’d leave for school or when they sat for dinner, but even he supposed it was hard to ignore your normally bottomless pit of a grandson refusing to have seconds. Especially when your grandson was Iruma. After excusing himself from the table, he made a point to actively avoid looking at himself in the reflection of passing windows, lest he realize how dark the circles under his eyes had become. It was foolish to think they had gone unnoticed by others, too, but Iruma was too sleep-deprived and exhausted to delude himself any longer. It was all he could do to simply put it out of his mind.
Arriving at his room, Iruma felt like a mindless zombie, hardly present in his own body as he changed into his pajamas and collapsed onto his bed. It was almost a mercy that the tired boy fell fast asleep, the moment heavy head met oversized pillow.
Iruma did not arrive at his usual nightmare. Though he still stood within a void, his eyes strained to make out the shape of a room surrounding him. It was as if the space was so dimly-lit that he couldn’t make out detail, forced to rely on his other senses to navigate. It didn't matter how long he waited, his eyes never adjusted to the dark.
Iruma began walking after some time, hesitant still, with arms outstretched to try and find the nearest wall. It seemed that the abyss beyond, like a fog, seemed to go on forever. Iruma could only hear the gentle click of his heels, and feel how the prickly cold of the room raised goosebumps on his arms.
An eternity passed before he gave up. There was a deep-cutting hopelessness beyond his ribs, a feeling that engulfed him completely, until stress overwhelmed him and he curled into a ball on the floor.
Iruma wasn’t sure how long he sat there, hugging his knees to his chest, before a distant shuffle made him lift his head up.
Amy Kirio stood before him, dressed in the school uniform, the picture perfect image of his senpai that he held so dear in his heart. An unrealistic image, an idealistic representation. He was fully aware of this, but then his senpai smiled at him like he did when they worked on the fireworks together, and all his doubts melted away. It was the same smile when he talked about creating a world without ranks, where everyone could stand on equal footing, before Iruma came to understand what that meant. The same smile that made Iruma’s heart flutter more times than he could count, the smile that he had been unable to stop thinking about, the smile he had yearned to see again more than anything.
A tightness coiled within him, words dying in his throat. The silence was so loud, and felt as if it stretched on forever. And then, finally, his senpai spoke.
“Iruma….kun,”
Kirio’s honeyed voice, that accent so familiar, eased the tension out of his joints. Although Iruma should’ve been afraid, or at the very least wary, he couldn’t help but long to hear that voice again again. He felt himself hanging on to the pause with baited breaths, waiting, expecting.
Instead, the figure of his senpai took a slow step toward him, and then another. Even until his senpai was crouched in front of him, tangible and within reach now, alarms never blared inside his head.
Iruma's eyes followed Kirio's hand as it touched his knee, imploring him to open up, to untangle himself. His legs spread out flat on the floor, and Iruma still couldn’t muster a word as Kirio inched nearer. Slowly but surely, like a predator taking in their prey, his senpai crept forward until he sat over Iruma’s lap. Caged beneath his body now, Iruma was absolutely powerless, yet still without fear. He was drawn in by Kirio’s slitted, teal eyes, enamored by the way he moved. Everything about him screamed danger.
It felt so odd to finally have the choice to escape, to give this dream a different ending than what he’d seen before... More odd to actively not make that choice.
He wasn’t sure when Kirio had gotten closer, but their lips were pressed together in the next moment, as if he had blinked and time skipped ahead. Suddenly, Iruma could feel his senpai’s hands on his body. His uniform was unbuttoned, fabric tugged from his chest, and the chill of the room spread to his now bare skin. Iruma only found reprieve from the cold in the form of a warmth on his shoulder, and discovered that Kirio had begun to kiss the skin along his collarbones. When had they moved on from his lips? He longed to feel them again.
Iruma’s mind was still processing at half speed when sharp teeth abruptly pierced his tender flesh. His every nerve felt like it had been lit on fire in an instant, the chill banished from his bones. The noise Iruma made hardly sounded of his own.
Kirio continued to bite him all over, ravenous, lapping at and sucking up the blood that poured from every newly opened wound. His senpai never said another word, leaving Iruma feeling like there was a pressure in the air begging to be popped. And yet, Iruma couldn't seem to find his voice either. It was an entirely wordless exchange, bodies pressed against one another; a silent understanding and agreement shared between them both.
He was being devoured.
Iruma was doing nothing to stop it. Bits of himself, becoming lost within somebody else.
Iruma felt calm, even as Kirio took his body apart piece by piece, heart and soul, like every inch of his being was gourmet. It was peaceful almost, being eradicated like this. Why hadn’t it felt like this before? The sensation was indescribable, hazy, murky, unknowable. Intimate. Why? Why was it different? Why was he so warm?
Iruma's eyes shot open, jolting like he’d been struck by lightning. The feeling that ripped through him was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. He barely managed to lean over the side of the bed in time before violently discarding what was left of his dinner onto the carpet.
Opera was beside him in seconds, like they’d been on standby outside his door, like they’d known something like this would happen. Had he screamed, or made any noise at all? How much did they know? Iruma barely had time to process the frantic questions filling his head, busy emptying his stomach onto the floor until there was nothing left in him to give. He felt weak and boneless when it was over, vaguely becoming more aware of Opera’s hand rubbing slow, soothing circles against his back. Iruma couldn’t muster the strength to look at them, for fear of them asking about what happened.
But of course they would. The dreaded question always came, as nothing escaped Opera's perceptive eyes. He'd been such a fool.
“Iruma-sama, are you alright?” They tested, when Iruma finally managed to regain control of his breathing. At some point, they’d procured a glass of cold water for him, which Iruma was chugging down like he’d been lost in a desert for months. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Opera’s ears laying flat against their head, making Iruma’s heart twist painfully.
He couldn’t find an answer. Opera was patient, and would normally let him take all the time he needed to put what he was feeling into words, but they seemed to quickly realize that an answer wouldn't come. He couldn't put it past Opera to see through him despite that.
“... Alright,” they resigned, with a subtle slump of their shoulders, “but, please, I think it would be best for you to speak with someone you trust about what you've been dealing with.”
Like a knife to the heart. Iruma knew Opera well enough now to understand this was not an easy suggestion for them to make. They probably wanted Iruma to open up to them completely, to rely on and accept support from his family. Iruma wanted that too, but… not with such confusing feelings swirling around in his head, and an uncomfortable tightness in his pajama pants. Iruma pulled the plush comforter higher up his body, praying Opera wouldn't read into the flush that burned his cheeks.
It took some time to convince them that he would be okay, and that they didn’t need to stay by his side all night. They only stayed until he was able to force a smile and insist that they should get some rest, too. As likely as it was that they still weren’t convinced, Opera left all the same. After cleaning up the mess beside his bed of course, much to Iruma’s further humiliation. Then they finally bid him a goodnight, and left Iruma to deal with his new, insistent issue.
That is to say, he tried his best to ignore it, and go back to sleep. To no success.
Shame permeated down to the marrow of his bones, disgusted with himself for how his body had reacted. What’s wrong with me? He thought, face pressed against his pillow. The fabric was wet from his tears, and his body ached like he’d just run a devi-thon with Sabnock on his shoulders.
Iruma’s night passed slower than it ever had before, drawn on by the ticking of his hellish alarm clock. Time was merciless, forcing him to eventually reckon with another night of no sleep, or a guilty relief that would haunt him for the rest of his life.