drear | give me a miracle, i just want out from this

[ mon eyes the wings but doesn't reach for one, instead making a 'hmm' noise as he considers what to say to that. will it crush him? he doesn't suppose he'll let it; that would be quite selfish. if he's stuck here, he'll make himself useful somehow.

hopefully.

his hands fold and refold.]

I just need some time.

[that's what he lands on eventually, a slight waver in his voice. how much time? he has no idea. it's not like time itself means the same thing to him as it does to most if not all the people he'll meet from now on. it's hard to think about forever without any of the people you intended to spend it with - whether Sunday or Mananan, whether his very job, whether Popo and Himeko. or aught else.

and it hurts. missing them.

scary.

lonely.

the soft not-happy smile mon wears as a gentle default doesn't change but that might be more of a tell that things are very wrong rather than that things are alright, the way smiles are supposed to be used for.]

[ time to adjust, time to deal with whatever huge changes he's describing as being "stuck on earth". mon definitely still looks squishy, squished, soft. noiz wants to prod the corners of his mouth. but that would probably go over as well as his attempted distraction yesterday. ]

Fine. [ noiz doesn't trust that smile. but fine, at least to the idea of needing time. ]

Tell me what a demon is. Did you used to be an angel?

Oh well...it's.

[having never had to explain what a demon is to anyone, mon finds himself at a bit of a loss. not in his considerably long life has he had this question posed to him simply because the world around them already knew; it was a given. he stares down at his hands, mouth twitching, perhaps reminiscent of a rabbit's nose in fact.]

I'm, actually, I am a hybrid. But I wished to become a demon, so that's how it went for me.

[grossly over simplifying? yes. but it's also not untrue. mon sighs.]

My mom is a demon, you see, and my dad was an angel. But we're not um...I think in movies and things 'demons' are considered evil? We're not. We're kind of like....well we and a lot of Heaven actually work together in a place that's kind of like an office?

[mon laughs a soft sound here, sheepish.]

I think it might be disappointing for some people to hear that.

[ for all his prodding of mon, calling him soft, when he leans across the table to him, all noiz does is bring a finger up to press at his lower lip. ]

You can say you're anything. [ he presses in with his ragged nail, curious of mon's responses, and whether or not there's anything solid under that pliable exterior. ]

Would it matter to you if I were disappointed? [ that would be strange. to care about noiz's opinion. ]

Whatever happens after I die doesn't matter. We'll all die. Someday.

[ mon blinks at the press of noiz's finger and then his nail, flinching slightly for the jaggedness of it but not pulling away, though his speech comes across a little muddled ]

Ermm...ahm...a little? I don't...like disappointing people.

[here he takes noiz's hand in his own, pulling it down to eye the ragged nail thoughtfully.]

That's...true. For humans.

Did you tear it? Should we put a bandage on it or something?

[ it hasn't occurred to mon that when he pulled noiz's hand away, he cut his own lip on his nail, busy and preoccupied now examining the rest of noiz's hand for any possible hurts. mon still hasn't quite gotten the memo about noiz not feeling things, but then, it's not something he's encountered before.]

[ when mon flinches, noiz bends his thumb, pulling it back slightly. why's he so hung up on what noiz thinks? noiz's brow furrows and hes ready to ask, when mon turns the attention back to his well-being instead. ]

You're the one that's bleeding.

[ he flexes his hand in mon's grip a moment before pushing himself around the corner of the table. ]

Even if you're not going to die... [ leaning in, noiz presses his mouth to the small scratch and licks the bead of blood away. ] ...it's salty.

[ there isn't much blood, but this is just what noiz does. it's another instance of him hurting people, because he's not good at being careful, and not worth being cared for. he's known this. mon should know it.

there's a second drop of blood welling up. noiz leans in and swipes his tongue over the spot again, using his fingers to hold his jaw in place. ]

[ the way noiz gets into his space so easily is not unfamiliar, and mon watches through surprised eyes as noiz licks first at the initial blood and then at the next. he doesn't quite understand how noiz thinks or acts, or why. but he would never ever think he isn't worth being cared for; one would have to be a truly horrible person for mon to think that, and even then, there's a deep deep well inside of mon that's heavy with the capacity to forgive. as it stands, noiz seems to mon quite a nice person if eccentric. coming back to check on him, bringing food, these are all indicators of kindness and mon appreciates that.

he doesn't quite know if noiz realizes how nice it is of him.

the hand under his jaw is strong and it's not that mon couldn't get away if he tried hard enough so much as that he doesn't think to. noiz reminds him, almost, more of an animal than a person sometimes - the behaviorisms especially. even so, that is blood, so he does lift his own hands, fingertips at either side of noiz's face to still him briefly.]

I'm not sure if my blood would hurt you.

[ because of course that's mon's concern, first and foremost. other things are secondary including how he squashes down inside him that feeling of loneliness that wants to be forgotten any way possible. ]

[ salty was right. noiz lets the blood spread on his tongue, the taste and smell of it not quite what he expected. he's tasted blood before. mon's is a little different.

huh. maybe he's a demon after all. noiz lets mon hold his face, but stays where he is, inspecting his face and the pinch of his small eyebrows. mon's still not telling him to back off. ]

You a poisonous frog or something? [ as he's not being told to do otherwise, noiz sinks down to be closer to his eye level, letting his fingertips press into his skin. getting closer to mon is more interesting than the food. for now. ]

I'll be fine. You should be worried about yourself. You started bleeding so easily.

Wh--what?! No...that's...a frog? Come on.

[ mon giggles because that's a silly thing to say but also because it somehow amuses him regardless? noiz is rather unpredictable and sometimes it just throws mon off but in this case it's kind of cute, if still odd. he blinks as noiz lowers his face closer and eases up on how tightly he frames it with his hands. now it's more like his hands rest lightly against either side of noiz's face, which unbeknownst to mon is not necessarily good - perhaps noiz can't even feel him now? ]

Oh. That's just...not much. I'm strong. Even if I don't look like it.

[ granted, that doesn't mean invulnerable and that's more noiz's point maybe. mon makes up for, or did at work, in his weak defense with his strong offense when he had to but he rarely 'had' to and would just take the damage instead. whether with popo or someone else, mon would sooner let something take a considerable bite out of him before resorting to using his own force - consequences of being a pacifist. but it's not like he can die anyway - unless some particularly crucial memory is taken from him that is - , so there's not much risk is there? ]

[ more like a rabbit than a frog, noiz thinks again. he stares at the small tip of mon's nose, nearly going cross-eyed but not wresting his way out of his hands even when his hold softens. it's not so bad sitting here. he can smell mon, a little, and see his chest rise and fall when he breathes. ]

Yeah, you really don't look like it. [ because of that, noiz now keeps his hands in his lap, his bony fingers loosely interlaced as he waits for mon to change his mind and let him go. ]

You don't do anything when I bother you. It's weird.

[ it's probably true that if mon is like any animal, it would be a rabbit - the skittishness mixed with the need for affection mixed with a sort of don't-notice-me vibe -, though mon himself wouldn't quite get the joke.

mon does let go of him now, letting his own hands fall from his face slowly, as if still deciding whether or not he needs to keep noiz in place. his eyes shift to the hand with the ragged nail, still considering putting a bandaid over it. ]

Well...You're not bothering me. I just don't think you should be consuming demon blood.

[ the way mon smiles at him is not a lie but it's a small, self conscious thing as far as smiles go. lips bleed easily and mon's wells up again without him noticing. it's something he'll have to be more mindful of if he's to be well and truly stuck here -- his vulnerabilities, and what those mean for him. ]

[ physically released, but not of mon's caring. he follows the dart of mon's eyes and wonders what the hell he's so worried about, if he thinks of himself as strong. it doesn't occur to noiz that mon really, truly, is worried about him. ]

Mm. [ it looks exactly the same as human blood, and noiz has swallowed more of that before. usually from his own bloody nose and not someone else's lip, but—he narrows his eyes at the small wound on mon's face before lurching up to his feet. ]

You got a first aid kit?

[ the constant welling up of blood is annoying. it's distracting him from the food. noiz scruffs at his own hair under his hat, annoyed as well by his own discomfort, before stepping away to rifle through mon's medicine cabinet, regardless of permission. ]

Um...I do but...er...

[ in the end mon just trails off, watching noiz rummage around before also getting to his feet to walk over and hover just a little behind him. ]

There should be a box of bandaids in there.

[ he's thinking in mind of noiz's nail, which could easily cut noiz himself or just get caught on things the way ragged nails do -- clothing, upholstery, whatever. better to let it heal covered slightly. ]

[ noiz has been through a fair amount of people's private property. he finds the band-aids just as mon speaks up and grabs it. the small papers rustle in the box, and he shakes out two of them. ]

Come here. [ from his pocket he retrieves his handkerchief. it's clean and folded, the way he keeps it out of habit. there aren't a lot of other things he keeps from his childhood, but the handkerchief—well, it's clean enough to press to mon's mouth, though noiz does it roughly enough to make his head move back. ]

Oh but you probably only need o--

[ is what he starts to say before noiz begins to take care of him. it does indeed cause his head to move back, wide eyes a little wider because he was caught off guard. but again it strikes mon that noiz is nice. he's 99.9% sure noiz wouldn't say that about himself but that's okay. mon blinks at him, unable to speak, though he reaches for the bandaids... ]

Why don't you ever do anything for yourself?

[ he's never selfish, but nor is he, noiz thinks, independent. whatever news he'd gotten about the angel-demon shit had cut him loose and he seems like a dinghy caught in the eddies. that makes no sense. you only have yourself to depend on in the end.

the dot of red on the white handkerchief spreads for a few seconds, until the pressure causes it to slow and stop. noiz's eyes slide to mon's quiet reach for the band-aids. ]

Put it on yourself.

[ he pulls back with the handkerchief, turning aside to immediately rinse it under cold water to reduce staining. ]

[ when noiz turns to wash his handkerchief, mon has to both stop himself from offering to clean it for him and also from dropping the bandaid which he almost does. he holds onto it though, peering down at the tiny paper plaster that he had intended for noiz. will it even stay on his mouth?

he peels it back and then applies it as best he can. it seems rude to not do so after noiz went through the trouble of staunching it. but he does fish out a second bandaid which he has at the ready whenever noiz is done!]

I ...I do things for myself. Or, well, I mean... I did. But I wasn't thinking much about it, honestly.

C-can I see your finger?

[ the plaster works, or at least it looks like it does. noiz's experience doesn't cover proper wound care. speaking of which, he's fairly sure he doesn't have any injuries to be treated, but he follows mon's directions and gives him his whole hand. ]

You'll have to do things for yourself again.

[ maybe it was just the shock, because mon did have a part-time job and everything before the news he'd received. ]

You going back to that coffee shop? Seemed boring.

Mmm. [ mon takes noiz's hand and gently applies the plaster over the ragged nail! there. he also gives his hand a gentle squeeze as if to reassure him about who knows what, then lets him go. his own hands end up folded in front of him, as if not sure what else to do. ]

Maybe. It wasn't boring for me. But I'm not sure, honestly...if I'll go back.

[ it's as simple as this really: mon doesn't know what he wants to do because what he wants he absolutely cannot have. he knows there is a degree of pointlessness to lingering on it, but it's only been a day and he somewhat cannot help it. he ducks his head. ]

I thought maybe I'd wake up and it would have been a dream.

[ he admits this very quietly. ]

[ that was it? noiz looks at the band-aid for a second. ]

Hm. [ right, he's clearly not accepting it yet. the huge change for mon, whatever it actually was, is something noiz can—understand, in a way. coming to this city after running away from home meant changing his life entirely. he'd woken up every morning for a while to an unfamiliar ceiling.

noiz says what he believes. ]

Every day's real even if it sucks. If you keep letting life kick you around, someone's going to actually kick your ass one day.

[ and hey, it might be noiz! but. not right now. noiz glances at the band-aid on mon's lip before dropping his gaze to where he's resting his own hands in his lap. covering up the nail protects noiz, but that's not a thought that occurs to him. mon probably did this to protect himself. ]

...sorry. I was—I would've tried to not hurt you again.

[ for a second, mon just stares, confused, having not yet replied to anything noiz has said and now duly confused by his apology. ]

You don't need to be sorry...it was an accident.

[ or at least that's how mon saw it! he blinks again before looking away at nothing in particular. ]

I don't know what you want me to say.

[ this comes as a kind of admission, mon's hands restlessly fidgeting. he's vaguely aware that it's possible what he's said might annoy noiz even more, as if mon is implying he'd tell him whatever he wanted to hear. but this is somehow both true and not true at all. even mon himself couldn't explain. he lowers his head, frowning slightly at the floor. ]

But I'm not 'letting' life do anything. It's doing to do it with or without my permission.

[ it may have been an accident, but it was one he could have averted if he could feel ahead of time. noiz does nothing but look at mon while he replies. the distraction of tugging on his lip piercings or biting the inside of his mouth is too good for him.

noiz doesn't want him to say anything in particular. he just listens, brows furrowed. yeah, life does whatever it wants, but... ]

Do you want to give up?

...

[ he knows he doesn't so why he hesitates even mon isn't sure. maybe it's that it's the kind of question he wonders if he'd have answered differently if he'd chosen the tendency of an angel, or if that even makes a difference. then again, knowing the angels he does, well, they're more stubborn than he is by far. also more dramatic. as demons go, mon is nothing special in his head even if Idea has always complimented him to no end. the one thing he thinks himself imbued with is in fact persistence or resilience, topic depending.

he shakes his head once, soft but obvious. ]

No. I don't think so, not exactly. It's just...

[ again he laughs that sort of wet sort of inconsolable humorless sound. ]

...well I don't want to give up.

[ in the end he doesn't say what he was going to: it's just that I'm scared...and I'm lonely, and...

that's not something to burden anyone else with too deeply if he can help it. ]

[ coming back from giving up is pretty fucking hard. but mon's saying he doesn't want to.

it's a start. noiz, just a few years ago, might have pressed it further and further, but he's learned by the help of others that it might be more helpful to support than push. admittedly, he'd pushed plenty before, but mon wasn't that much of a wreck then.

(besides, kissing is a different matter.) ]

Fine. [ so he has conviction of some kind. noiz settles back, making to return to the food. he does want to say something else, something helpful and soft like aoba would, but there are too many prickly weeds to clear out before he can get there.

he goes instead for a pat to mon's shoulder. despite his best efforts it's firmer than he wants it to be. ]

...don't, then.

I won't -- [ the pat to his shoulder has mon lurching forward - not too much, but well, too much to hope that noiz didn't notice. mon appreciates the effort; he can both tell and feel that noiz is trying for him in whatever capacity he can, and that means a great deal to him.

it's a common and rampant belief that 100% looks the same no matter who wears it, but this simply isn't true. mon knows this very very well and over his rather long lifespan it's always served him to remember it. of all the mistakes he could make, he'd like taking people for granted or assuming things about their efforts, not to be one of them.

watching noiz settle, mon does the same, resuming his small sips at the soda he'd taken up before. he does mean it - that he won't give up, that he'll figure it out. but it'll be gradual even if mon wishes it could be faster, more direct like a sudden fall or running start. it's an idle thought: when will he feel hunger again? there's a lot to question - whether it's to do with his mood or with any potential change in him from being earthbound so long, so on and so forth.

and of course the kicker is there's no real way to Know other than to wait and see. sort of.

taking another sip, mon's brow is furrowed as he thinks about all of this, his legs folded up under him criss-crossed, foot tapping absently in that nervous-tic motion. ]

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