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“Iruma-sama, I need your help! Mother is throwing a couples party and I'm obligated to be present to set an example. There's no one else I can turn to!”
With a baffled expression that would have been adorable in any other situation, Iruma blinked repeatedly. Had he spoken too fast? Certainly, he'd left himself a little breathless in his haste, mental and physical energy eluding him with his displeasure. Not even Iruma's awkward smile could entirely dissipate his apprehension.
“Well...”
The blessing of pleasant eyes was stolen from him as they closed in thought, arms crossed sternly. His antenna wobbled this way and that as though writing out his response. After several careful breaths where Asmodeus felt his heart might stop, Iruma nodded decisively.
“I don't like seeing you so distressed, and if you really have no other choice, I don't mind lending you a hand. What do you need me to do?”
“I...”
His mouth went dry. He hadn't thought this through. Iruma was supposed to say no – he'd braced his heart for it, was prepared to almost revel in the sting of rejection before despair finally set in. Indeed, he had been prepared to ask Eiko to the ball in his stead, the only other friend he could trust to behave appropriately. Truly, the Fates and Iruma's boundless mercy smiled upon them, but... This was all too much.
And, blessing that he was, Iruma only awaited his answer with a patient smile, much more confident than before.
Asmodeus cleared his throat, fist curled staunchly before his chin. “I must ask that you wear the most elegant attire you're comfortable moving about in – I am certain Lord Sullivan will be eager to assist with this. Secondly, if anyone enquires of us our status, you must answer that we are courting. Thirdly, unless you are addressed directly, please leave the social battlefield to me. Are these terms acceptable?”
Simply to spite his nerves, he cracked open a resolute eyelid. This was the perfect time for Iruma to change his mind. If he chose to act upon this opportunity to leave him to fend for himself, Asmodeus would cut his losses and accept his wise decision.
But, to his surprise, Iruma nodded brightly with an enthusiasm akin to being offered a feast. Perhaps, in his heart and mind, he anticipated the exquisite cuisine that graced their buffet tables with every event despite having never attended. Although, perhaps that was to be expected of Iruma, ever the perceptive demon. With Asmodeus's lineage and standing, of course there were bound to be an abundance of pleasures to indulge in.
Hand on his heart, he bowed as deeply as he could manage without upsetting Iruma. “You have my thanks, Iruma-sama. Truly, I cannot express my gratitude enough.”
“Just having you back to your usual self is enough, Azz-kun!”
When Iruma arrived, Asmodeus was beside himself. Heart hammering like a master blacksmith crafting his magnum opus, it was a wonder it didn't beat right out of his chest. Everything he adorned made his abdomen clench with affection, but in elaborate gold and midnight blue, three-piece suit tailored to perfection along his diminutive frame, he felt he might faint. Only in that single instant upon the Royal One's throne had Iruma's majesty ever been comparable to this.
So stunned was he that only Iruma's subtle movements and his long years of decorum allowed Asmodeus to politely extend a hand. As effortlessly as his dodging instinct, Iruma gracefully rested a hand upon his own to be led regally towards the entrance. Were his mother and the remainder of their guests not waiting upon their arrival, he would have liked to tarry a little longer in their magnificent courtyard for the open joy with which Iruma gazed upon impeccable devi-roses.
Although his free hand rose to throw open great mahogany doors, he knew not why he hesitated. This was everything he wanted, was it not? To have Iruma by his side in an intimate setting, to show off his greatness to every noble he'd ever had the misfortune to meet, to bask in his pleasure as he partook of fine food and soaked in the aura of nobility?
...Nay, for that desire would make his Iruma unhappy. Even if he had only agreed for the feast, or to lend his aid in Asmodeus's most desperate hour of need despite his refusal to say 'please', he couldn't make him more uncomfortable than he must already be by drawing further attention to him.
Slender fingers squeezed firmly around his palm. With a start, Asmodeus glanced down at Iruma beside him, met with the most adoring, confident gaze he had ever laid eyes upon.
Heart seized with the force of a great magic beast, he had to bite his tongue to keep his eyes from watering. Iruma was as amazing as ever. A fist clenched awkwardly in the air to keep from gripping his collar, to fight the burn trying to creep up his neck to sully his immaculately curated mask. It wouldn't do to lose composure here, with a foyer full of the most stuffy, stately and highly esteemed demons on just the other side of this door. He had grown up innately aware of their ruthlessness thinly veiled beneath a mask of civility, had played this elaborate social game many times to great effect. Failure was not an option.
Fingers curled decisively around the back of Iruma's hand, just barely loose enough to not whiten the flesh: he would protect Iruma from these vultures no matter what.
Warmth caressed the back of his hand in kind. Again he gazed down at his silent support, and this time, Iruma nodded. Tonight, victory would be theirs and theirs alone.
Asmodeus steeled himself with a careful breath. Heavy doors fell open with just the slightest push, eyes closed regally against countless stares as the room fell silent. He sensed more than heard the bows of lesser nobles, and relied on great practice and instinct to not bump into anyone as they made their way to the centre of the hall. To his credit, Iruma's hand remained lax and comfortable, although no doubt regrets were swimming around behind those curious eyes. When his mother's perfume assailed his nose, his free hand rose to his chest to take his bow; beside him, Iruma swiftly did the same.
“Now that our guest of honour has arrived,” Mother's peremptory tone addressed the hall, “this gala can begin in earnest. Ensure that you all enjoy yourselves appropriately as you forge new and meaningful connections!”
Sound returned to the ballroom with her subtle command, couples talking playfully amongst themselves and laughing with their associates. As he subtly surveyed his surroundings, however, fewer demons lined up to approach him this year. But plenty of curious or ill-meaning stares fell upon his Iruma, every iota of self-respect and allegiance within him resisting the urge to bare his fangs. Iruma, bless his heart, politely returned the stares as he'd been instructed, his smile surprisingly calm given the situation.
While the chats were largely forgettable, when one affluent noble complimented Iruma on his tenacity, Asmodeus was powerless to keep himself from puffing his chest with pride. It was all he could do to not sing his praises, although when it became appropriate to compliment him, he gushed with adequate enthusiasm. Every conversation that had steered its course inched them closer to the buffet table neatly decorated along the far wall.
Moments before they met their objective, however, Mother intercepted them. She was all smiles despite the fork barely raised from her sample plate, sharp eyes barely hidden behind overfluffed lashes as her attention never left his Iruma. Sickly sweetness crept into her tone.
“So he finally took the hint, Alice-chan?”
Cheeks burning with as much passion as indignation, although they paled in comparison to the heat of Iruma's arm in his own, he nodded sharply. “Iruma-sama is no less than splendid in all aspects of life.”
It truly astounded him that Iruma seemed remarkably relaxed even when the faint curl of Mother's lip gave away her smirk, although she was gracious enough to hide it while hosting. “For indulging my son and allowing him to shine so brilliantly, you have my heartfelt gratitude.”
“Oh, it's nothing, really!” Iruma nodded deeply just like they'd practiced, free hand set upon his heart to keep from rubbing the back of his head. “I couldn't leave Azz-kun in that state.”
Mother's smile was much more genuine this time, even as she spared him a momentary glance before resuming their conversation. She would soon take her leave, her desire to interrogate Iruma outweighed by the demands of etiquette in high society, and that moment could not come soon enough.
So often she kicked off these dinner parties with some grand announcement and light boasting on his behalf, before allowing him to make a speech. At least she respected Iruma's needs enough to not draw unnecessary attention to them this time.
Just as predicted, she eventually bid them a generous farewell to tend to her other guests. Once he was certain she was out of earshot, a miniscule sigh escaped him. Gentle squeezes on his forearm had him glance down into the most reassuring eyes imaginable.
“I can't imagine this being easy on you. Hang in there, Azz-kun.”
Genuine pride bolstered the strength in his rigid back. Skilfully they floated over to the buffet table where Iruma, despite his insatiable hunger, exercised great restraint in the civility with which he imbibed. Resounding taps of metal on glass quietened the bustling crowd as all eyes narrowed in on Mother's effortless poise.
“Nothing pleases me more than ensuring my guests have a good time. So, now that you have all mingled and met the prospective partners of our many lords and ladies, I bring you the moment we've all been waiting for: the dance!”
Lively cheers erupted in a muffled wave across the ballroom, underlay by gentle pulses beneath their feet as the music assumed an upbeat tone. Fork captured mid-bite, bright cobalt eyes widened up at him, and Asmodeus cursed himself internally. Did Iruma not know how to dance? Given Lord Sullivan's disposition, it had only been natural to assume that he had taught Iruma the basics. It should go without saying that his friend had experienced a high-class event such as this within his lifetime.
But... Iruma rarely held himself like a noble. Quick to embarrassment rather than mask mistakes, he often made amends or even apologised. Little he did spoke of self-preservation or entitlement. Frequently, his actions were deemed to be 'undemonly' or 'causing trouble', although Asmodeus surmised that those complaints against his person were solely from one specific teacher.
Come to think of it, he had neglected to mention the finale ahead of time, had he not? Perhaps it was by his own hand, then, that Iruma was out of sorts.
...No matter. After all, Asmodeus had promised to take the lead if any such situation arose. Effortlessly his dignified hand proffered itself to his friend, a lifeline for all expectations and demands of the ball. If ever his Iruma faltered, just as he had lifted Asmodeus from his shames and set his heart ablaze with his untouchable light, so too would Asmodeus raise his saviour back onto the path on which they trod.
The relief that flooded Iruma's charming face swelled through his own heart as he grasped his invitation, rose graciously to his full height while Asmodeus drew him carefully from the table. Sweetly he followed, guided by some unholy quantity of faith.
Ever one for formality, with his arm still extended, Asmodeus deeply bowed.
“Iruma-sama, may I have this dance?”
It seemed to take all Iruma had in him to suppress a giggle as he returned the bow, grip marginally tighter around his hand. “It would be my pleasure.”
When they righted themselves to press close together, his head dipped to whisper comfort in his friend's ear. “You need only follow my lead.”
'I trust you' was murmured back, breath hot on his cheek. Asmodeus flushed. Joined hands languidly enticed the rest of their arms outward to honour the musicians' efforts.
Nervous now in their proximity, unwilling to overstep his station but unable to say anything more, he hoped Iruma understood as his free arm slid across the small of his back. Had he not been equally out of place, the hue of Iruma's face would pulverise his heart where it almost matched his nails. With a bit of coaxing, however, a damp, overwarm hand eventually found its place beside his heart, and once-uncertain feet fell into step with his own. Perhaps all their many days of walking to and from school had finally born fruit, naturally accustomed to the rhythm of each other's stride. Oh, how marvellous!
Onward the night crawled in each other's arms, although neither could place when it had shifted from awkward to comfortable, or when his partner's dwindling energy had finally levelled out. All he knew was that, with Iruma's cheek pressed lightly over his steady heart and the warmth of him all around, he was content. Truly, it had been far too long since he last felt at ease in his own home, longer still while in the presence of his mother.
Asmodeus knew not whether others' eyes still lay upon them, for his own had fallen closed long ago to capture this simple bliss. And even if they did, let them stare, for Iruma was his for now and that was all that mattered. Let him sate his buried yearning, let him cast aside his fears to simply savour the rare reprieve he had been granted. There was no better place or time to taste one's desires than in this hall of want.
Although playing pretend broke his heart, he had never been more ecstatic. Never would he forget this night with Iruma, especially if it was the only time they would ever be close like this. Soft hair tickled his nose and chin where his face had inadvertently fallen, his scent no less divine, pure contentment invoked by its very nature. Even at this distance, he could just barely catch the lovely tones of Iruma humming along with the music, a side so rarely seen. He could only give in to selfishness as he greedily savoured every quiet note. Everything that his king had to offer, whether intentional or not, he would bask in with every grateful fibre of his being.
The night passed without incident, the pair of them standing on one side of the door while Mother and David stood at the other, all giving thanks to their guests and accepting their parting words. Asmodeus revelled in countless comments of what a fine partner he had earned himself, entirely genuine when he thanked them for recognising his splendour. If any cared that the flames of his heart most assuredly crept through his cool facade, they considerately failed to bring it up.
When the final guest had bid them farewell and passed through the outer gate, and his family had returned to their manor with little more than a squeeze of encouragement on his shoulder, he realised that this is what the night had been leading up to. Alone, with his Iruma, surrounded by his mother's lilac flames hovering just high enough to cast their seemingly endless devi-roses into a muted rainbow of hues.
Still hand in hand, he led his Iruma gradually along the white gravel path, but not before they stepped into a manicured alcove that not even his mother could peer through and carefully loosened his cravat to breathe a powerful sigh that had yearned to escape all evening. Iruma guided him to the lone stone bench that sat a little further in, stood sweetly over him to ensure he was alright. To think even now, after he had made him endure such a lengthy and accursed night, he still cared enough to put Asmodeus's needs first... Fingers curled tightly against his knotted throat.
“You know...” He was perfect. Even without the glint of his eyes, mired in darkness where the generous moon haloed his glorious silhouette, his voice and shadowed finger scratching timidly at his cheek gave away his mood long before his words did. “This may come as a surprise, but I had a really great time tonight. I'm glad you invited me, Azz-kun. Thank you.”
“As am I.” He smiled freely when he gingerly squeezed Iruma's hand, long forgotten in his own. “Thanks to you, this is truly a night to remember.”