TITLE: faith, trust, & pixie dust
GENRE: romance, drama
WORD COUNT: 5k+
NOTE: MY GODDAMN KOKORO 4 FUCKING TENRI
i swear like i almost crieD and I've never wanted to beat an MC's ass (aka keima) so harD PIECEOFSHIT hE MADE TENRI CRY
i've been writing this since 266, 267 ish lol
btw, updates r coming for what a birdsongbut i had to write this first bc im as dicky as keima & i just churned this out LOL
i have strange formatting sorry ahead of time
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"... sorry, Tenri."
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Tenri says good bye to her first love which she's had for ten fucking years at the bitter age of seventeen.
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— and that's pretty much where the story ends.
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(... for now.)
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;-)
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faith&trust w/ a dash of—
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PIXIE
dust / / / / /
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(part i.)
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BUZZ.
BUZZ.
BUZZ.
"— ah, um, Ayukawa Tenri here, I can't... come to the phone right now... so please leave a message after the beep..."
"Hello, Tenri? It's Mama. Somebody needs to stay over at your apartment for awhile... you don't mind though, right?"
CALL ENDED.
CALL ENDED.
CALL ENDED.
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i. she'd call it a beginning, but the story's already ended
When Tenri's door rattles open at three o'clock in the morning, she's horrified, and she proceeds to drop her favorite teacup onto the floor. It shatters like her heart.
He's soaking wet, his hair is sticking to his skin, and his bag just flops to the floor with a soggy thump. When her eyes meet his for the first time in four and a half years, she feels the telltale flutter of her heart making its way to her throat.
He notices her arms shaking.
"... hey, Tenri."
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"Oh," she says softly, "hi, Keima-kun."
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She watches as he makes a personal swimming pool in her front hallway, and she stands up abruptly, her eyes never meeting his again.
Keima blinks when she marches over and starts pushing him in the general vicinity of her bathroom.
Her fingertips tremble against his back, and Keima falls silent.
"— now, go take a shower," she begins stubbornly as she shoves him towards the door. "Introductions later."
"I'm fine," he whines slightly, his fingers already grasping at the edges of his PFP. "And don't we need to talk anyway?"
"You'll get a cold," she replies quietly, effectively ignoring the second part as she plucks the device out of his hands efficiently. "Now, hurry. The towels are in the cabinet."
"I know."
Tenri twitches, frowns. "You've never—"
Keima shrugs with a sigh of resignation as he takes the PFP back with a simple flick of the wrist. "You've always been rather clean is all," and the door shuts quietly in her face.
She laughs softly against the door. "Keima-kun never changes."
"..."
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"— ah, and you'll be sleeping here tonight, or errr... today," she tells him faintly as she flicks on the light. "Sorry if it's a bit messy, but..."
Keima inspects her, his eyes scrutinizing her carefully; she shifts her legs under his stare, her toes wriggling into the carpet uncomfortably.
Keima eventually nods, his face glowing from the PFP screen.
"... thanks, Tenri."
Tenri smiles like hell in her eyes.
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"Goodnight, Keima-kun."
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She's asleep on the couch when he finds her two hours later, the blanket thrown haphazardly around her waist. Tenri snores gently in her sleep, her hair tussled around her, and she breathes gently with the pencil tangled in her fingertips.
There's bubble wrap on the table.
She drools, and he rolls his eyes.
Keima snorts. "Idiot."
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Tenri wakes up in the middle of the afternoon tucked neatly back into a bed, the sunlight streaming in gently through the window.
"Hah..." she breathes as she leans onto her hand absentmindedly, her fingers tugging on her bangs as she closes her eyes again. "... really doesn't change at all."
ii. monsters under the bed
Keima looks incredibly unsurprised when she sprints into the living room, her eyes wide.
"Oh," she says in a tiny voice, her smile a tad strained.
"It wasn't a dream, Tenri," he remarks dryly in reply. She manages to look embarrassed for half a second before she begins towards the kitchen.
"Have you eaten yet?" she chirrups lightly. He hears the slight tremor in her voice, and he glances up from his PFP screen.
"No, but you don't have to worry—"
"— all you need are your games, right?" she finishes lightly, a small smile on her face. "That's not healthy."
He pauses in reply, appraising her as he clicks through his game. "You still seem to think you know me quite well."
Tenri takes out the eggs, and grimaces when it cracks under her fingers.
"Not exactly," she replies, the egg frying against the hot skillet. She brushes her hand against her temples restlessly.
Tenri notices the brief pause in his series of clicks, feels his stare, and she flips the egg.
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Keima sighs as he sets the PFP down. "You're too cryptic, Tenri," he accuses almost absentmindedly, his eyes flashing behind his glasses.
She shrugs with a sweet smile as she sets the food in front of him.
"Some things never change."
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"You're not going to ask why I'm here?" he asks her. Tenri blinks slowly as she glances up from her book. She shifts uncomfortably on her recliner, her eyes peering over at him.
"... not really my business."
He snorts. "I intrude on you at three o'clock in the morning, and it's not your business?"
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"... your business... stopped being mine, I suppose."
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Keima stills.
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"Ah... yeah."
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"— but you'll just let me stay here? At the drop of a hat? A guy you haven't seen in years, and you'll just...?"
Tenri laughs, and Keima decides she's a little different; he's not too sure if it's a good thing.
Her bubble wrap lies next to her untouched, and she squirms in her seat. She arches a brow at him, her book hiding her smile, and he stares back at a girl he's not sure he knows anymore.
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She says it likes it's obvious.
"It's because it's you, Keima-kun."
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Tenri's always been too cryptic.
iii. the affair that never was
"No," she says passively-stubbornly in a very Tenri-classic style as she twiddles her thumbs. Keima looks incredibly exasperated.
"There's only one bedroom."
"Yes."
"And you want me to sleep in it?"
She furrows her brow, and it makes him feel like an idiot. "Yes."
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"Tenri."
"Keima-kun."
"You are stubborn at the absolute worst of times."
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"You're currently questioning my masculinity."
She raises an eyebrow.
"— because you care so very much about your masculinity," she says dryly, and Tenri's tone never used to be dry.
Keima wonders when she changed; he never asks, and she'll never tell.
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Keima stares at the bed. "It's pretty big."
Tenri flinches, and she has an awful premonition she won't like where this is going. She can see it in the mischievous glint in his eyes, in how he's manipulating her to how he wants her to turn.
That look makes her nervous even more than it makes her heart flutter furiously against her ribcage.
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"We could always share the bed," he suggests easily.
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Tenri explodes, her face turning scarlet.
Keima smirks. He's still got it.
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"... sure," she eventually says, an impish smile on her face.
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"— WHAT."
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(— two can play at that game.)
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;-)
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Keima looks stunned, and four and a half years later, it's like the tables have finally turned.
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He swears her smile looks more like a smirk these days.
iv. the gambling table & all its losses
They end up staying in the living room with a bet and the bedroom on the line.
"You'll lose, Tenri," he says as he whacks her on the forehead with his PFP. Tenri jumps drowsily and frowns at him. "I pull all-nighters all the time."
She blinks the sleep out of her eyes and bites back her sarcasm at one o'clock in the morning.
"... playing games?"
He grunts. Tenri peers over his shoulder as he clicks through.
"— of course playing games," he mutters. "It's my life."
Tenri pauses. "You... don't look very happy though."
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Keima clicks a button.
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"It's not your business, right?"
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Tenri smiles like there's a secret; it's all rather bitter for them both.
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"Right."
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She falls asleep at the ripe young time of four twenty in the morning. Tenri, forever cursed by awkward situations despite her docile nature, falls asleep with her arms crooked around his neck, her head nestled into his neck, her legs curled into the couch.
Her warm breath blows into his ear, and Keima scowls and turns red and he hates real girls, really.
Keima sighs from his position on the floor, his eyes frowning at her dark circles and pale face.
"Troublesome."
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Tenri wakes up in a bed, the blankets neatly tucked around her, and a note stuck onto her forehead,
"You Lose."
— and she nearly smiles.
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"Keima-kun, you're (still) a sore winner."
"Hn."
v. if only
Her smile never meets her eyes, and he never smiles much anyway. It's all very quiet in a freezing apartment.
Tenri wonders if that will ever change.
vi. "i-i'm just not domestically inclined"
Tenri can only cook three things— quick bake cookies, eggs, and instant ramen.
Keima just kind of gawks as she opens the cupboards— it's enough damn ramen to last five fucking years.
"Your parameter always seemed like the domestic type," he sputters. Tenri smiles sheepishly.
"I'm... clumsy."
"Flighty."
Tenri purses her lips. "I'm just skittish," she corrects, a faint pink tinging her cheeks.
Keima scowls as she attempts to grab a cup. He can live off of games, but like hell Tenri can.
"Just— let me handle it," he says exasperatedly as he snatches the cup ramen from her. Tenri blinks.
"Oh, but—"
"— it's not like I'm great, but I'm a helluva lot better than you and Elsie," he grumbles as he raids the fridge.
She manages to feel a little insulted until, well, he has a damn point. Tenri sulks quietly until he comes up to her with two steaming cup ramen while looking slightly embarrassed.
She stares intently at his face.
"Well... we can just... shop tomorrow."
She folds her fingers gently over his for a second as she steals the cup away.
"Of course, Keima-kun."
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The cashier lady looks ecstatic when Keima appears strictly with Tenri straggling behind him.
"Oh, Ayukawa-san," she squeals, startling Tenri from her intent inspection of the eggs, "who is this?"
Tenri smiles weakly, her hands gesturing in Keima's general direction. "He's a, um... childhood..." she pauses, her brow furrowing thoughtfully, "I— n-nevermind, he's an acquaintance."
Keima gives her a weird look, one that makes her feel as if she did something wrong even though hello, she's abiding by his rules, and then he abruptly corrects her. Tenri stares.
"I'm her childhood friend," he says curtly as he pays the bill. The cashier smiles charmingly and nods.
"Anything else?"
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Tenri wonders.
"No," she says softly, looking down at the ground. "We're— nothing else."
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She fiddles with the plastic bags on the way back. "Since when?"
Keima continues his games, looking remarkably bored. "What?"
Tenri burns scarlet. "I— nothing," she manages miserably, silently cursing her damned awkwardness. Keima appraises her for a few seconds.
"Since—"
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He sounds exasperated.
"— well, I mean, wasn't it just obvious?"
Tenri blinks twice.
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"No," she says bluntly.
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Tenri smiles as he sputters for words, his eyes violently conflicted. She tugs on his plastic bags.
"That's... enough, though," she says happily, and they're both such awful liars.
vii. drowsy days but never sleeping
Tenri goes on an acute boycott of sleeping in the bedroom.
AKA— she refuses to sleep in the goddamn single bed in the goddamn single bedroom of the goddamn single apartment.
It's all a very self-suffering affair, really.
"This argument? Again?!" he hisses at her when she tumbles into the living room and falls asleep against the carpet.
"— dun wanna," she murmurs back, her lips barely whispering the words as she curls into the carpet, her eyes already sliding shut.
"Oh?" he mutters slightly snippishly— this is the thirteenth damn night he's had to drag her back in, and, and, "why not?"
"— you look lonely, I think."
He freezes, his game music fixed abruptly on repeat, his eyes focusing back on a lightly breathing figure.
Keima forgot how to live, but this girl might teach him how to breathe again.
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"Tenri," he whispers in her ear, shaking her shoulder lightly. Tenri grunts in her sleep and turns towards him.
He's about to screech at her because he hasn't reached a damn save point, but—
— she opens one eye sleepily, and her fingertips reach up to brush his cheek. Her touch is surprisingly kind and gentle, her eyes quiet and troubled but all too caring, and perhaps Tenri's always been a mystery to him. Keima stares, his PFP falling into his lap as he grabs at her fingers.
"Sorry, Keima-kun," she says softly.
He never knows what she's sorry for.
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Tenri's smile is slow and sweet and she's already asleep.
Keima sighs, and for the first time in four and a half years, he gives in.
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Tenri wakes up the next morning comfortably curled into her blankets. She sighs, her eyes frustrated as she arises, because goddammit, she has got to stop falling— she stops short.
"— oh," she says in a small voice.
He's fallen asleep in the bed, his chest rising and falling lightly, his glasses thrown off into the corner somewhere, his PFP tucked under himself somewhere in the mess he's made on the other side of the bed.
Tenri flushes red, and her heart beats, but she won't let it go any farther than this— never again. She clenches her fingertips into the blankets before relaxing, her gaze frowning at him.
She hesitates for a few seconds, but eventually her fingertips brush against his forehead, and his eyes slide open as she draws back again, twiddling her thumbs.
Keima stares at her, the blankets wrinkled, the sheets halfway on the floor.
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"Ah, um... good morning, Keima-kun."
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"... yeah."
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She feels the temperature rise with her heart, and she's tap dancing along a thin line between four and a half years ago and now.
viii. you're a sharpshooter, babe
Tenri sometimes watches him play his games in her free time. She sits quietly, a book and glasses in hand, and she stares as he plays.
He's not used to the company without all the insults and jabs at his, erm, entire life.
"Why... did she end up liking you?" she asks one day, out of the blue, her finger tapping the screen gently.
He turns to look at her, and he looks almost surprised. "Typical Route A for tsunderes," he replies methodically.
"...?"
He sighs melodramatically, and Tenri almost rolls her eyes. "In which I instigate the tsuntsun side to bring out and heighten the deredere levels," he says as if it's fact.
"Oh, how do you do that?"
Keima clicks a few buttons. "You don't really have to pretend to be interested."
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"Mm?" she murmurs, clearly not listening as she browses thoughtfully through the manual. She glances up, her eyes clear, her fingers tightly gripping the booklet. He stares.
She smiles gently, her eyes roaming back to the pictures, her finger tapping at the girl's delicate features. "She seems nice, though."
Keima blinks.
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"Oh, did you say something earlier, Keima-kun?"
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"... no."
ix. seeing is believing, but all we see are words
Tenri is still highly embarrassed when he crawls into bed beside her, the mattress shifting in slightly unfamiliar ways. Keima glares at her when he sees it and points accusingly.
"You wanted this!"
She turns red as she tugs on the blankets and stares at the ceiling. "You were being stubborn..." she defends weakly.
"It's common courtesy for a boy to take the damn couch," he grumbles grumpily under his breath as he lays his head down onto the pillow, his PFP lighting up his face.
She smiles half-heartedly. "In games?"
Keima scoffs. "Of course in games, Tenri. Where else would I get such ideas?"
She stiffens suddenly and shifts in the bed uncomfortably. Keima's an idiot, but he notices how she falls silent, and his brow furrows.
"..."
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An hour later, Tenri hears the PFP power off.
"Tenri? I know you're not asleep."
She closes her eyes tightly, her fingers clenching like a prayer, her heartbeat speeding up—
"I didn't," he sighs, and she can feel his stare cause goosebumps on her neck and down her shoulders. Tenri hates how he can always read her so easily— it's like she shouldn't even bother in the first place.
She has half the mind to challenge him and ask what he didn't do, but she's tired, and he's insufferable.
"... never?"
Tenri hates how her voice quavers, hates how he knows what she's thinking, hates how it's always Keima, Keima, Keima, and hates how he never feels anything close to how she felt, feels, will feel.
She can almost hear his halfway smile between the spaces of then and now.
"Never."
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"Oh," she says in a small voice.
His laugh rumbles in his chest, and she abruptly realizes that there's a guy, a dude, a man in her bed— a man with whom she has extremely ambiguous feelings towards right now.
Tenri whimpers.
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She wonders if this makes her a little special.
At the thought, Tenri feels her heart grow warm. He shifts in the bed, murmuring about Yokkyun in his sleep, and Keima's always been dangerous in the worst kinds of ways.
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When he wakes up, her face inches from his, softly breathing, he—
x. burning my lungs and turning fire
"You won't tell me, then?" he asks quietly. Tenri jumps at his sudden entrance, backing into the stove and the pot—
— and she hisses. Keima blinks as she jumps back from the hot stove, tears almost pricking her eyes. The boiling water spills over the edge, the pot toppling to the floor, and Tenri makes a noise as it scalds at her skin as she hops away.
Honestly, Tenri has a first aid kit prepared for these things because she's awfully clumsy, but he grabs her wrist suddenly, and she never gets a chance to do anything.
"Idiot," he complains, shooting her a glare.
"But—
"— I said I would cook, didn't I?"
"— but I was hungr—"
"— don't care," he grumbles as he drags her towards the bathroom. She winces as he slams the door, turns on the shower harshly, and lets cool water run its way down her arm.
Tenri sighs in relief until—
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"Strip," he barks.
Tenri makes a strangled noise in the back of her throat.
"— a-asgsgkfkl?!"
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"— do you want scars on your legs?" he snaps.
"I— I-I don't want Keima-kun to—?"
"STRIP!" he roars, and Tenri delivers an impressive thirty degree kick to his ass in reply because WHAT THE HELL and NO WAY IN HELL, DIPSHIT.
Tenri has some decency, and like hell she'd strip.
"Get out!" she squeaks out delicately, and the door slams in his face.
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When she steps out, her face bright red and herself slightly huffy, he sighs.
"You're a tsundere sometimes, Tenri," he mutters as he starts to wrap gauze around her wrist. "It really doesn't befit your parameter."
"You don't really need to," she protests, ignoring his jab. He shoots another glare at her, and she falls silent.
"Of course I have to," he sniffs as he daintily spins the gauze around her arm whilst dabbing cooling cream. "It's my fault, kind of."
Her heart hammers against her chest, and she sighs unhappily.
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"Keima-kun... doesn't play fair."
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He shrugs, his hands making quick work as he moves down her legs. She reddens.
"I wasn't playing to begin with," he returns bluntly.
Tenri shoulders slump, his ears turn red, and they both pretend not to notice.
xi. all i wanted was to break your walls
Their routine is a cycle.
It never begins nor does it end; they're stuck in a rut, and Tenri doesn't know when he's going to leave.
She's not sure if she wants him to, not sure if she wants to leave this endless and vicious cycle for her heart, and perhaps that's what scares her the most.
The rut breaks when he grabs her wrist one day, his fingers wrapping easily around it, his fingertips digging into her skin.
"We need to talk."
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After nearly a month and a half of avoiding the subject— all the subjects— Tenri feels her heart sputter to a stop.
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Tenri trembles delicately in his hand, her eyes wide, and he watches as she yanks her wrist away from him as she swallows harshly.
"I—"
xii. you came in like a wrecking ball
KNOCK.
KNOCK.
KNOCK.
"Hey, you need to eat."
"..."
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"Tenri."
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"Please."
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"... I'm sorry."
xiii. and all you ever did was wreck me
Tenri squeezes her legs tightly together, and cries desperately.
She doesn't want to hear it again— all she's— they've— ever been is a rejection.
Ten years of pining, of waiting, of never being able to move on, of never being able to let go, of, of watching him fall for other girls and of, of always letting him.
Four and a half years of trying to let go and let go and let go.
A month and a half of seeing him everywhere, of being next to him, of realizing she could never let him go in the first place.
She can't do this anymore; she's so tired.
"Tenri."
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"Tenri, you don't need to talk or anything. I just want you to listen."
"..."
"Are you listening?"
She shifts on the floor, her throat closed, her fingertips digging into the carpet.
"..."
"Tenri..."
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"I am... single right now."
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Tenri's probably never wanted to beat a guy and throw him out the window so much in her life; her body acts on her own as she throws the door open, her gaze indignant and angry and half crying, because who the hell does he think he is?!
"You—" she begins angrily, because she's never, ever, ever had such a feeling bubbling up into her chest, has never felt so bitter.
She thought she got over this, over him, got over ten years of always knowing.
His eyes are calculating, and Tenri wants to smack her foot into his damn face, because of course he'd know the perfect words to boil her over, to make her, a girl with a really, really, really insane temperament to just break to pieces in front of him.
He would, she thinks bitterly. It's Keima-kun, after all.
She didn't cry back then— she forced herself to move forward. Even so, seeing his damn face just makes everything feel fresh in her mind, and it's breaking her heart all over again.
Tenri stops short and takes a deep breath, her hand back on the door handle. "I need..." she murmurs, her eyes almost horrified as she attempts to retract herself back inside. He stands suddenly, him looming over her, and he grabs her shoulders.
"Tenri."
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When he meets her eyes, she's not crying— but her eyes shine just a little, and his heart feels heavy.
"— why'd you come back," she asks quietly, her voice trembling in the palm of his hand, her eyes dull and miserable, "after all these years... why?"
"I—" he says, and for once, he sees her as the girl with a broken heart.
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"... I was missing something."
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Tenri pauses, her eyes oddly blank.
"Missing what?"
xiv. meaning to be, but there's never any meaning
When Keima falls silent, Tenri pulls back suddenly, her shoulders abruptly snatched back from his hands. She shakes, her shoulders quavering, and when she finally looks back up, he realizes she's crying.
He realizes he's never seen her cry.
"Ten years, Keima-kun," she whispers quietly. "I couldn't get over you for ten years— I wasn't allowed to, you know? And you... all you give me are three goddamn letters."
Tenri glares all of a sudden, her fingers fisting into her dress. "I— all I get are three letters, and the last one— you couldn't even," she asks, her eyes closing, her breathing harsh, "TELL ME IN GODDAMN PERSON?"
"And you're expecting me to just be okay with seeing you and you're just missing something?" she hisses, all of her words melting and sizzling on his skin and suffocating her. She sees him and his eyes and all she's ever done is drown in him.
"Did you expect me to be okay with you falling in love? Did you expect me to just, to just be okay with that? Did, did you expect me to just fall back in love with you? I— I'm not a stupid conquest anymore, Keima-kun, I'm not," she says, all of her words struggling out of her mouth.
"I understood more than anyone else," she tells him softly, "but it hurt, Keima-kun—
"— it... still hurts."
Tenri laughs almost hysterically, all of her confessions tumbling out after fourteen and a half years long gone.
"You had to save the world," she tells him, "but I couldn't stand my part in it all."
Keima stares at her, her eyes glistening, her lip trembling. She's not angry; he can see it in how her shoulders shake, in how she falls down to his level, in how she balances a smile almost delicately onto her features—
"I'm too selfish," and her voice cracks.
They fall quiet again, her hand slack against the wall. Keima doesn't know what to say— he never does in these situations when all he's left with is a broken heart and not enough superglue to put the pieces back together.
"I can't do this anymore," she murmurs as she cradles her head in her hands.
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"... you were never a stupid conquest, Tenri."
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She wonders if he knows that was always the reason she could never let him go.
xv. the arctic circle
The apartment is freezing.
xvi. the merry band of liars and their book of thieveries
A week later, Tenri opens the bedroom door, takes him by the sleeve, and drags him inside.
"You haven't slept much," she says quietly as she settles down next to him. Her hair spills over her shoulders, and she's long outgrown an old habit of sleeping in braids. Keima leaves his PFP on the nightstand, leaving the room startlingly dark, and his fingers brush against her eyes.
"Neither have you," he remarks wryly as he eyes her dark circles. She almost leans into his touch, her eyes almost drifting closed.
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"… are we okay?"
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Tenri's smile doesn't reach her eyes, but her lips brush against his cheek in an almost impulsively fragile manner. She almost laughs triumphantly when his ears turn red.
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"I've always been okay, Keima-kun."
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She's just never liked it.
xvii. not all that is lost is permanent, but it's pretty damn close
When Tenri's sure he's asleep peacefully in the bed (after slipping a few nonprescription sleeping pills into his soup, winkwink), she runs out of the apartment at midnight, the keys swinging around her finger like a carousel.
The door locks behind her, and she never looks back.
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The bartender has a shady smile, the kind that therapists have when they know their patients are long, long gone.
He hands her a shot, the amber liquid shiny and tempting and pretty, and it's gone in a snap.
Tenri giggles.
.
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Tenri feels the dull buzz down into her bones, her legs like jelly as she folds in on herself in a corner of a bar just a few miles away from her apartment.
She eyes the glass absentmindedly, the drink spilling dangerously, her shoes kicked off down below her as she swirls it.
Tenri sees the shadow of a man behind her, his steps heavy and loaded.
"Hey, pretty lady," somebody says, his hand on her shoulder. It's disturbingly hot and cold at the same time. His fingers dig into her skin, the feeling strangely familiar as she sees an apartment, a boy— a man— and...
She blinks drowsily at him, her eyes lost, her drink already slipping and scalding down her throat and into her heart.
The man smiles something dangerous.
"Come with me."
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Keima wakes up to an empty bed, and he's freezing.
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Tenri's never been reckless, Keima pants as he races down the apartment steps and out into the street.
But four and a half years is a long time, and—
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Tenri can't cook, is stubborn, cries, is cryptic and understanding and loves too much and says too little and she watches him play games and she lets him sleep in her bed and lets him come into her apartment at three o'clock in the morning, and all he's ever done is leave her with a broken, broken, broken heart.
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Tenri laughs with hell in her eyes, the tears spilling down her cheeks, the gasps nearly long gone, her heart hiccuping to pieces without any idea on how to put it back together again.
"... okay."
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Keima slams the bar door open.
Tenri blinks, her vision hazy, her hair cascading down her back in waves, her heels off and cluttered on the floor, a man clutching her shoulder, but all he sees are her eyes.
She's crying.
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"What's wrong?" he asks softly.
.
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Tenri tilts her head, the bottle of her beer nearly dangerously slipping and shattering into the countertop.
.
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"... I think I'm lost."
.
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Keima takes a few steps forward, his fingers interlinking with hers, and it's like something he's been missing.
.
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It's always been a god's duty to guide the lost back home.
.
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TBC.
no guarantees on updates bc I'm so aWFUL
UGH i cant believe twgok is over im so sad
this was tons of fun to write, tbh, bc tenri is a babe and they're always gonna be my otp for this series.
(sorry, chihiro, though i appreciate you.)
i hope you enjoyed it; i know it's a lil wonky in the formatting department but mmmM oh well lol
xxx.