The restaurant was cozy; delicious food, soft lights, gentle music and sweet deserts that made Ira’s stomach ache because he ate too much too quickly. He had no regrets.
After their meal, they took a walk.
Angelo led the way to a park surrounding a small lake, the water dark under the limited supply of streetlights. The lake was surrounded by a black, iron fence, a trashcan overturned not that far away from them. The moonlight above was reflected on the water, an almost perfect replica of the moon sitting silently on it. Ira took a picture before the view changed.
It was a calm, still night. Ira drank in the calmness like a drowning man, trying to force it down his throat until he choked. He wished to bath in it, wished to smother himself with it. He wished for things to always be calm, and simple, and quiet.
Angelo held his hand securely as they walked on the beaten path around the lake, the candlelight flickering in the night. Ira swung their hands, his fingers warm and cozy. He glanced at Angelo out of the corner of his eyes—Angelo was staring straight ahead, almost frowning as he seemingly thought deeply about something. He looked handsome. His eyes were nice like that.
Ira looked away when Angelo glanced at him. He felt Angelo lean closer to him, slowing their pace further. “You alright?” Angelo asked, voice low. Ira could hear the uncertainty as Angelo added, “You don’t regret this? You don’t have to move in with me if you don’t want to.”
“No, I want to live with you,” Ira cleared up right away. He definitely did. He’d missed living with Angelo, even when he’d been living with Ren who was his very best friend in the whole world. He had, he would even dare to say, gotten used to living with Angelo.
No. That wasn’t a strong enough word to describe his feelings. It wasn’t that he was just used to it, it was that he actively enjoyed it.
Angelo smiled at him and gently knocked their shoulders together. Ira stepped on Angelo’s shoe, almost falling over from the shock. Thankfully, he was holding Angelo’s hand and clung onto it for dear life, managing to stay upright, his cane waving wildly in the air. “Shit,” he wheezed when he was finally standing normally again.
Angelo snorted, his eyes crinkling, clearly trying to suppress a smile. He didn’t try very long, finally giggling softly as he brushed his hand through Ira’s hair, his fingers lingering just slightly too long. Long enough for Ira’s stomach to flutter, for his hands to almost get clammy. For his fingers to itch with the need to touch Angelo as well.
And, well, Ira saw no reason to deny himself.
He brushed his hand over Angelo’s cheek, Angelo’s eyes widening to what must surely be a painful degree. They stared right at him, Angelo’s breath audibly stuttering. Ira could see himself in Angelo’s eyes; could feel Angelo’s warmth on his fingers. He finally palmed Angelo’s cheek properly, and the tingling in his stomach, in his hands, didn’t get any better at all.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
He gulped. He stared. He licked his lips. His stomach hurt and his fingers tingled so harshly that he worried he’d been struck by lightning without noticing. His eyes watered from lack of blinking.
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He pressed their lips together, leaning forward and pulling Angelo’s head to down. The first touch was quick, fleeting, just a peck. The second was warmer, Ira’s fingers curling into Angelo’s short hair and grabbing onto it. He closed his eyes, let himself sink in and drown. Allowed himself to forget, to drift, to feel. To be surrounded, to be swallowed, to be cherished, to be fucking loved.
Angelo’s hands sat on Ira’s hips, the touch grounding, heavy, soft. Ira leaned into it, leaned into Angelo, leaned into everything.
He wanted… Fuck, he just wanted.
Letting go, his fingers lingered slightly on Angelo’s cheeks. Ira cleared his throat after a moment, opening his eyes and gazing up into Angelo’s black ones. He saw his own reflection in them, saw his wide eyes and his glistening mouth.
He cleared his throat again and licked his lips, observing Angelo’s gaze follow his tongue.
“Want to go home?” Angelo asked, hoarse. He let go of Ira’s hips, his hand opening and waiting between them. Ira grabbed it, threading his fingers through them once again, and felt his heart skip a beat in his chest.
“Yes,” he said, staring wide-eyed at Angelo, “I want to go home.”
Angelo’s smile was like the sun, like the stars, like a thousand rainbows all at once. Ira’s breath caught in his throat for the barest of moments, his heart tripping and speeding up to illogical speeds if it wasn’t trying to kill itself. His fingers clenched on Angelo’s hand and he almost wanted to run away.
Instead, he took a deep breath and forced his heart to slow down. He regulated his breathing pattern and pulled on Angelo’s hand, restarting their walk around the lake.
In the end, it took them another hour to make their way around it and get home. Angelo’s apartment was located at the middle of the city, where the roads couldn’t be repaved for cars because the houses were too close together, and so folk were forced to walk or (the indignity!) ride bicycles to get around. Not even horse-drawn carries could fit here.
The apartment was on the fourth floor, at the top of the building. It had a small balcony with a black iron fence, and an excellent view of the sky and the blimps traversing it. It was actually closer to the train-station Ira had come from than to the bar Ira had found Angelo at, but he was gracious enough not to comment on this.
Inside, Ira veered straight to the bedroom. He opened two doors before he found it—a closet and a small bathroom—and threw himself right on the bed. It bounced beneath him, thereby passing his grueling test.
If it had failed, it could have really bummed him out.
“Passed inspection?” Angelo leaned against the doorframe, raising a dark eyebrow at Ira.
Ira smiled, rolling over until he was on his side facing Angelo, holding his head with his hand. He made a seductive move seen in many movies, where the seducteer pats the bed before them and wiggles their eyebrows. It was very effective.
Angelo walked up to him and sat down. He looked at Ira for a second, then quickly kissed Ira’s forehead. Ira’s freehand came up to cover the area, his mouth opening a little. He quickly got his act together though, flopping down on his back and crossing his arms over his chest.
“I’ve missed you,” Angelo suddenly said, for no reason at all. Ira glanced at him, then looked back at the ceiling because he couldn’t take that open, soft look. He thought Angelo didn’t used to be like this; wasn’t he a demon or something at some point? Wasn’t he pretty cold-hearted and cruel? Didn’t he try to catch Ira and keep him captive? Wasn’t he…
Ira’s mouth spewed, “I’ve missed you, too,” while he was thinking, thankfully not saying all those things. He bit his lip, worrying it with his teeth as his eyebrows furrowed. Angelo, proving he was truly fearless, took Ira’s distraction as an opportunity to flop down next to him. Ira heard his shoes strike the floor, and in response, toed off his own ratty shoes. He had to give them an extra kick to actually get them off the bed.
He felt more than saw Angelo fall asleep, first slowly and then all at once, the way sleep tended to happen. Ira breathed, controlled, and turned his head to watch Angelo.
The human was sleeping soundly, face relaxed and open. He breathed deeply, his chest rising and falling with the motion. His hand was laying on the cover between them, Ira’s own hand traitorously trying to get closer, but he ruthlessly destroyed its aspirations. Rather, he eyed Angelo’s face in silence, trying to etch him into his memory.
“You’re infuriating, you know that?” he asked into the night. Angelo didn’t react, didn’t even twitch. Ira nearly smiled, but that felt too much like foolishness for him.
(How the fuck had he gotten here?)
He turned over, facing the window. Closing his eyes, he zoomed in on his Host.
His Host was standing before a corpse, a knife dripping with blood in her hands. She was covered in it, too, positively dripping with it. Ira’s gaze flashed to the cops on the other end of the alley, shocked into freezing. Finally, the older, stockier one pulled out a gun and yelled, “Don’t move!”
Ira’s Host waved the knife and yelled, “I didn’t do it!” making the other cop finally get out of her stupor and raise her gun as well. With two guns pointed right at her and only a knife in hand, his Host gave a frustrated yell and ran off, quickly disappearing into the labyrinth of alleys the city offered.
“Shit, shit, shit,” his Host kept muttering under her breath as she ran, keeping a hold of the knife all the while. She wasn’t totally stupid, as the previous successful mission testified. Sadly for her though, that meant the Tutorial Mode was off. And Ira could spend all his time with Angelo, ignoring her very existence—without a single word of reprimand from his boss.
Sweet.
The role his Host was playing this time was simple; she was a private detective who was mistaken as the murderer when she happened to walk in on a just murdered person. This most recent murder wasn’t the one though, this was the fourth one his Host had walked in on, seeing as she had to keep breaking in to examine the crime scenes. Since she was the one wanted for the murders.
Success at this mission was just as simple—she just had to find the real killer, clear her name, put the actual murderer behind bars, and finally be given a key to the city for catching such an unscrupulous serial killer.
Without getting caught herself, of course. Or murdered by the murderer. Or killed by the cops. Or get into any trouble with the law, really (aside from trouble she already was in). Ira… didn’t actually know how this mattered to the story, he quite frankly hadn’t looked over the information yet.
Which wasn’t his fault! He had found Ren like two minutes after landing in this body and so he kind of got a little caught up in the joy of living with his best friend. Then he found Angelo, and the same thing basically happened all over again. Essentially, Ira was too happy being with his favorite people in this world to pay any attention to his shitty Host or her stupid mission. He was sure it sucked, anyway.
Although the murder thing was maybe a little interesting…
His Host ran into a building, dramatically slamming the door behind her. The patrons occupying the bar startled, glaring at her. She ducked her head and proceeded to the back of the room, hiding away in a corner like a shady murderer. The knife was now hidden inside her jacket’s pocket. Ira wondered what would happen if the bar’s occupants realized that she was carrying around a knife where the blood hadn’t even dried yet.
Horribly, probably. A shame that wouldn’t happen.
Thanks for the chapter
Thank you for the chapter! ❤
Why are all of ira’s host such a pain in the ass 😭
This was written in the last chapter of the previous Arch
At least, the new host doesn’t seem so annoying like the previous hosts and more intelligent.
dear author, I hope you are doing well? for so long there was no continuation about Ira, we missed =*
hi! yes, i’m well, i’m just incredibly busy with schoolwork. I had to sacrifice something, and IWL’s chapters are the longest, so… it’s on hiatus until the end of March (potentially it might be extended through April, we’ll see).
good luck! we’ll wait
While I was reading this, a song called Real Good Life just started playing in my playlist lol.