Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“I don’t think you’re going to hell.”

This was intended as a comfort whispered into the night after a fight, but to even be doubted that much?  Only later would [Dorian] realize how their words sounded, but by then they too walked too far along the narrowly balanced line of good intentions.  How they had come to this point, then, was a matter of ethereal fears grounded in harsher realities.

It had all started when [Dorian Green’s] family took a vacation, (but if you really wanted to be specific, it had started even five years before that.)  Nonetheless, a family wide argument broke out, with everyone tired from a long day of traveling.  Words erupting from their parents, spreading through their siblings like poison, and lastly themselves joining in some misguided attempt to soothe everybody.

One person, “You’ll probably be responsible for someone’s death one day!”

Followed by, “Well, you’ll go to hell yourself first!”

Then [Dorian] stepping in, “Please, I don’t think her actions are that bad.  Sure, they might not be the most moral, but they’re not deserving of hell surely?”

“You think your sister deserves to go to hell?”

“I literally just said the opposite of that!”

Words flowed over them like water.  As if trying to break through a crashing wave to catch their breath from drowning, they then saw that their parents shoved each other.  As [Dorian] snapped back into focus, they could hear,

“Take that back!”

“No you!”

“You son of a bitch!”

“How dare you use that kind of language in this family?  And insult my mother!”

Underwater, again.

Suddenly, a breath, only to find a storm overhead.

Someone had pulled a knife from the kitchenette cabinet. 

[Dorian] ran to the middle of everything, yelling, “Please just stop!”

Too late, the knife was already driving forward.

Except.

Wait.

It hadn’t touched [Dorian] at all.

Instead, it had paused less than a hair’s breadth away from them.  Not for lack of trying, no, [Dorian] could still see the knife being pressed forward into them. 

They had an ability.

-

After things cooled down, [Dorian] tossed and turned in bed.  Tiptoeing across the hotel room, they crept out the door for a breath of fresh air.  Maybe go to the exercise room, maybe leave for good.

-

Later, simultaneously as the [Green] family frantically was searching for [Dorian], [Dorian] found their answer. 

“You sure the Guild will cover my tracks completely?”

“Positively.  We’ve even set up fake papers and a life for you there, so you better be grateful.  You’re lucky that you have an ability and that your family can afford to lose money.”

“Well, they’re not that anymore.”

“I suppose.”
-

Two weeks later, at the ripe old age of 14, with a new name, a newly found ability, and a deep-seated grief, Dorian Green found unlikely salvation in the demon of Yokohama.

Said 15-year-old demon said to his first subordinate he would personally train,

“I can give you a reason to live, you know.”
They replied, “Show me then.”

And so the friendship of an ethereal demon and a haunted ghost began.

Chapter Text

The door opens.

Aching silence, then

as quiet as a far-off hinge

or dripping pipe,

footsteps echo,

loudly coming closer.

Slowly, the waiting

it quickens,

heart beating in

maddening anticipation –

A silence of breath,

composure outside,

the moment before –