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Every time Yato closes his eyes to rest, the image of Sekki shattering right in front of him haunts him like a particularly venomous spectre, the sound of Yukine's final moments as a single blade ringing loudly in Yato's ear, as if that sound embedded itself into Yato's earbuds and was on its own mission to play itself on a loop until Yato went insane.
He couldn't keep up the charade for long - the dark circles being the first to show up, along with his grogginess and irritable mood. People around the house were beginning to give him strange looks and they weren't hard to miss, no matter how subtle everyone thought they were – he's a God after all. Sure, it was not the first time Yato had lost a shinki, in his long long years of being a God but he definitely hadn't lost anyone like that , in such a cruel way. It felt like a debilitating pain dug a chasm right in the center of his chest, and plotted to crush him inside out until nothing of him was remaining. Being a God for centuries, Yato had assumed he had felt enough pain for a lifetime but he was proved wrong that day. Losing Yukine felt worse than any of the pain he's ever felt before in his painfully long life.
Yato quietly watches Yukine walk around the house as he does his chores, and even he's aware how unlike his usual self that is. But he can't help it – how can he be in a mood for jokes and conversation when every time he sees Yukine's back, he's reminded of how earnestly the younger boy protected him by sacrificing his own life? His chest burns and aches, like someone lit up a wildfire inside him. He's burning at the seams and the sensation is so new to the God, he doesn't know what to do. He's only glad that his precious shinki – who is somehow miraculously alive in front of him and became a blessed vessel for his pathetic self, can't feel his pain because if he did, he's sure Yukine would be screaming from the blight on his body.
He feels more than he sees Yukine turn around – being attuned to his every movement, as the pads of his feet turn around to face him.
"Okay, I can't take this anymore, what is wrong with you?"
His dear Yukine asks, and it's not judgemental, but coming from a place of concern. Yato can tell.
He sighs, deep and weary. There's no one else in the house at the moment so he can't ask Ebisu to pitch in or Kofuku to explain how painful it is to lose a shinki. But it's not as simple as that, never could be, because losing Yukine felt like losing a thousand shinkis. Yato doesn't think he could ever begin to describe this feeling and for a moment he wishes Yukine could actually feel his pain so he can understand.
"I- um, I'm -" Yato tries to speak, to say something but no words come out. He splutters and struggles and feels Yukine's concern grow inside his chest every minute. His pain along with Yukine's (even though the boy's hurting for him) becomes a little too much and Yato weakly clutches at his chest, like a child. Images of Bishamon crying like a little girl at the thought of losing Kazuma and her other shinki plays in Yato's mind and he thinks he wants to cry like that too. Maybe that's the only way to let out this pain that seems to stick to his insides like glue.
"Hey Yato, what's wrong, you're scaring me..." Yukine speaks and Yato almost flinches back in surprise because of how close the boy is - kneeling in front of him, his hand outstretched, unsure of what to do with them because Yato finally notices.
And for the first time in a long time, the God doesn't think, just lets himself follow his instincts. He gently takes Yukine's outstretched hands and places them on his cheeks. Yukine comes wordlessly when he pulls, so sincere, so trusting and the gesture makes something pull inside Yato's chest again.
"Why... why did you sacrifice yourself like that for me?" Yato mumbles but he thinks Yukine hears him all the same by the hitch in his breath and the sudden tightness Yato feels inside his chest. His hands are so small and warm within Yato's own palms as he holds Yukine steadily close to him, giving the younger boy some time to think, while never taking his eyes off him. Yukine's eyes look so round and orange and beautiful, and it feels like Yato is holding the sun in his hands – he might as well be, he thinks. Yukine lights up the world around him and pulls him out of the darkness just when Yato thinks it might swallow him forever, so he might as well be his sun.
"Even if you ask me why..." Yukine begins, and Yato doesn't know if he's doing it on purpose or unconsciously but Yukine's fingers move gently across his cheek, as if cradling him and Yato thinks he's one feeble step away from crying. "I don't even know how to explain it, my body just moved," Yukine says and even though he's looking everywhere but at Yato (probably because he's embarrassed) Yato can feel the sincerity of those words deep inside his chest. When Yukine's eyes focus back on him, he doesn't expect them to steal his breath away the way they do, shining with sincerity and loyalty and something akin to worship? Yato thinks he must have finally gone insane because why would someone look at him like that? A God of calamity like him?
"I swore by my name that I would protect you, of course I couldn't just do nothing seeing you in trouble like that, and I don't like it."
"You don't like what?" Yato asks, his voice wobbly and small.
He watches Yukine flush a little before he answers, "I don't like it when you're scared ! You're a God of calamity for God's sake, you're supposed to be confident in battle and I want to give you that confidence, I want to protect you -
And Yato would like to listen, would always love to listen to his beloved shinki but he's just so overwhelmed with emotion right now and his throat is closing up and his eyes are becoming blurry, so he follows his instinct again and closes the small gap between himself and his regalia, pulling Yukine flush to himself. Yukine falls into him with a squeak, his smaller arms rushing to hold Yato on instinct and Yato's first tear rolls down his cheek.
"Yato?" Yukine asks softly but the God's only able to respond in a heave of breaths and sniffles, his fingers holding onto Yukine's shirt like the younger boy would disappear even if he loosened his grip a miniscule amount. Yukine understands wordlessly, like the wonderful, sensitive gem of a soul he is and just sits there holding him while Yato cries and cries and cries out centuries of pain, trying to flush out that searing pain he feels inside his veins. Yukine's arms hold him tighter as he gasps and he's sure he must have soaked Yukine's t-shirt with tears by now but the younger says nothing about it. Just continues holding Yato as if he's the God who's been alive for centuries, with a tenderness that only comes from a kindred soul.
"Please don't ever do that again," Yato begs for the first time in a long time and Yukine nods silently.
"No promises if you're in danger, but I'll try my best."
"You better."
Yato lets Yukine hold him like that until his tears dry a little.