#lemegeton as a light before sleep reading

[likeprongstostars]

forced to draw canon universe born to put them im silly AUs

[bluewindfall]

📝 <3

Thank you so much for the ask!! :D I have so many wips, so it was hard to choose haha. This one is kind of abandoned for now, but I might rewrite it someday when I have time.

Bits of gravel click against the asphalt, shivering in time to the tremors of the train passing overhead. It’ll be several hours before this city sleeps and only a few more until it wakes again. He’s become fond of that restlessness lately, whenever he’s waiting. 

A car honks, and soon, others at the intersection join in its dissonant cacophony. 

It’s summer. The air is ambivalently humid, not hot enough to make him sweat but nonetheless stifling. 

He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, leaning closer to the alley wall when a pedestrian strolls by. The thrumming bass from a nightclub three streets down sounds like a heartbeat, settling into his bones when he rests his head against the brick wall. 

There’s a gnawing ache to all of this—doubt given a name and a face. He might never get used to it.

“What changed your mind?” 

Yukio twists, snatching the can of coffee thrown his way. 

Kamiki sets a tote of what appears to be library books on the ground. What she intends to find in all of those, he can’t guess.

“I met him the day after you left,” Yukio mentions as he cracks the can open. “He said he knew who I was.”  

Another train thunders by, rattling the links of the metal fence at the end of the alley.

He doesn’t check the can to see if it’s been tampered with, in the same, careless way he let that demon in the cell reach his hands out through the bars. It’s as thoughtless as it is misguided. 

He feels possessed, coming here, harboring these dangerous fragments of recollection. This is a test. He needs answers, but he does not know the questions. 

“What did you remember?”

Kamiki’s deep red eyes look sharper under the shaded glow of the street light. “Someone important to me. I had to leave.” She crosses her arms. “Keep thinking. The more you think about it, the more you’ll remember.” 

Yukio takes a sip of coffee, regarding the label skeptically when the sweetness lingers on his tongue. It must have been expensive. 

“Someone liked that brand before,” Kamiki answers for him. “It probably wasn’t you.” She nudges the sack of books with her foot, and the linen pants she’s wearing swish around her ankles. “I found these in the fiction section.”

Yukio catches a glimpse of two titles along the stack of book spines. “Lemegeton.” The name is familiar like an odor or texture, dampness and metal. 

“Read them if you want,” Kamiki offers. “I borrowed them for two weeks.” 

“Thank you,” Yukio decides, reaching into the bag to take one. Its cover is worn and stiff, old yet unread. 

Kamiki heaves the bag over one shoulder, holding her other hand out for the coffee. “Quit drinking it if you don’t like it.” 

The crescent edge of the aluminum can gleams as Yukio tilts it. Whether it’s the coffee or something else, he doesn’t know. 

“It’s fine,” he decides. “I’ll drink the rest.”

Kamiki shrugs. 

He can tell there’s more she wants to say, but so far, she’s only ever warned him about one thing. 

“Watch out for a guy with pink hair,” Kamiki mutters as she leaves.