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Max Irons & Douglas Booth posed at BAFTA Awards 2016
@murderousdesires
And, all at once, she understands why he is an angel. It seems strange, than, that she should need reminding, for she recognizes the endless warmth that Abel seems to be possessed ofâitâs the same warmth that Junia has.
Her Guardian Angel, her confessor, her savior; smiling down on her no matter what sins she confessed, who had lifted her up on angel wings and taken her to a better place. Who, even after everything, is still the source of all her strength, as she was in heaven. Who has never seemed to blame Evangeline for anything, even when Evangeline blamed herself.Â
She had never hoped that she could find that utter acceptance from one angel, and sheâs shocked anew to receive it from a second. She, who has always been so terribly unworthy: so many mistakes sheâs made, so much time sheâs wasted, so much she has to make up for. Every day, she questions why she has survived. And every day, despite the often terrible strangeness of life after the apparent end of the Holy War, she wonders why sheâs received the blessings she has: her life, when so many have died, but most of allâJunia. Â
Junia who, by the grace of this angel, was allowed to be at Evangelineâs side, no matter how short a time. Surely he is a blessing, too.
And, all at once, it seems even more terrible that the morning at the prison had gone the way it had, that it had ended with the fence between them once again. It had ended Abelâs torment, but it also strips his suffering of its meaningâhe suffered so Junia and Evangeline could be together, and now they are not. The demons won. The demons always win.
She feels terribly guilty, then, but for something different: for not taking his hand, for the look that sheâs put on his face. His words are absolution she had not expected to receive, and her overwhelming gratitude makes her tongue sit clumsily in her mouthâwhat could she possibly say to show him how grateful and humbled she is by his forgiveness, how in awe she is of his grace. She doesnât know, and so she can only settle for what little she has at her disposal: âThank you,â she says, her words thick with held back emotion, the stifled urge to cry happy tears. âThank you so much IâI donât know what to say.â
And she holds out her hand.Â
âHow are youâhow did you cross the fence? If you need a place to hide, I think Junia would vouch for my spare room.â
It was so rare that Abel was allowed to speak so directly to a human like this, to act as a conduit of faith and understanding in such an immediate way; God had often prodded him, encouraged him to spread the word directly as so many others had, but heâd always harbored an irrational fear of what the humans thought of him. Who was he to tell them how to live, what to do with their mortal divinity, if he was so stupid as to be killed by his own family? He was not a shining example of faith, for faith had made him the first murder; heâd always wanted so desperately for the humans to like him -- and in his fear, heâd not allowed them to.Â
And yet here was Evangeline, who was so utterly simple to speak to; she may not have felt the same way, but Abel was so thrilled to be talking to her, to be speaking of forgiveness in such a candid way, was two thousand years of relief. She was helping him just as much as he hoped that he was helping her, simply by allowing him to be an angel in a capacity that heâd been too frighted to be in past millennia. Heâd been entirely useless -- but perhaps this fortuitous encounter, half-shadow and half-light, was just what they both needed in terms of divine redemption.Â
And this was, undoubtedly, more therapeutic than any prayer ever could be; he may as well have been upon his knees before a blessed altar -- there was nothing like a human to reassure him that he had earned his divinity.Â
She would earn wings; he had no doubt. But he could only hope that she would not face such a judgement for a long while. For his sake, for Juniaâs, for the sake of the humans who so obviously cared for her deeply, Abel could only hope that wings would be something she would be faced with years after the humans had been freed; he would be glad to remain in prison if all of the humans could put off facing their mortality for a long while.Â
Evangeline held out her hand, and there was not a moment of hesitation between the offer and his response; he reached forth and took her hand with a grateful smile upon his face. Rather overzealous, perhaps too excited to be merely shaking her hand, but it was forgiveness, understanding, what the relationship between and angel and a human was meant to be in its most base forms. He would, no doubt, tell Junia of this later; her wonderful Evangeline was even more forgiving and understanding than Abel could have hoped.Â
He would undoubtedly root for the two of them; his romantic heart swooned at the idea of Junia and Evangeline escaping together.Â
Carefully, nervously, with unwavering smile and searching eyes, Abel reached forward to place a gentle hand upon the side of her face, palm to cheek, and with a nod, he muttered, âItâs the truth -- nothing more.âÂ
His hand fell away, but his smile remained; perhaps his venture across the fence could inspire something similar in her, or in the other humans, though he would be remiss to become the cause of reckless behavior. âThe fence is down,â he explained quickly, voice rife with obvious excitement, âThe electricity, I mean -- I simply... walked across. Iâm not sure how long itâll stay down, though; I may not have much time on your side of the fence. Are you safe? Out here alone?â
Stay with him forever.
Something so simple, so pure gave him such joy right then and there and it was in his grasp then and thereâfor they were divine and they had the means to stay happy for the rest of their immortal lives; it wouldnât even be that hard to stay with him in this war forever, for when Abel would leave this earth, scarred and torn from his grasp, it would be only a few moments before he followed suit. Like Orpheus before him, and Achilles and Cleopatra and Juliet, it would be inevitable that love would be his demise, and what a sweet ending to his book it would be. For the Angel of Healing would have a whole heart once more, and it beating for someone that was not there would have been a medical anomaly for him.
He looked upon him, beyond the scars and the pain and the encroaching darkness that the prison had offered, and allowed him to relish the fact that in this moment, he was safe and that he was safe with him within the walls of the prison, and even though he smelt of hospitals and blood, he felt like summer to him. Holding Abelâs hand, Raphael gave a smile, for he knew that he was greedy with kissesâwith affection and that even within the walls of this prison, he would give affection where it was needed. After all, the most shameless flirt could easily become the most romantic person in the room, with the right person in their life, and Raphael was proof of that.
Giving him another kissâsomething he was never tired of doing, from the looks of it, he sat down beside him, extricating himself from Abelâs touch for a moment. He put his arm around him then, to comfort, to reassure, because of all the things that heâs studied in his eternity, Abel was the one subject he would have undisputed expertise on, if you had asked anyone who knew him. At least that was what he thoughtâit never hurt him to be wrong once in a while; it just meant that he was learning something new about his favorite subject, and what academic didnât want that?
âNot to derail darling, but you know youâre pretty hot with those scars on.â It was a joke of course, for he had preferred that his skin would be untarnished, perfect porcelain that should never been broken in the first place, but events and circumstances forced them to breakânothing that wouldnât reform completely, but enough to scar. And scar they did. âA shame we donât have any Narcissus to patch that up but I like a man with scars,â he continued, a smile on his face, âMeans any strenuous activity weâll do wonât end up without passion.â
Pressing him to his side, he gave another thought to staying forever with Abel, on some island in the middle of the Pacific where no demon or human could ever find the both of them, would never bring them harm once more, happy in some house by the seas where the waves lapped at their feet and the sun kissed their skin in the mornings. He thought of walking, if not flying through the trees and looking at the stars with new wonder in their eyes and making stories anew to give to whomever passed by their little piece of Eden, if they were to interact with anyone at all. Â With Abel by his side, he thought once more of waking up next to him with sheets around their bodies, not being separated anymore by cold stone and desolation, and having him all to himself for nights on end and for the rest of time.
( Heaven paled in comparison to his thought, making his heart flutter and his blood turn golden as he dreamed this idyllic future next to him. Maybe once they were cast down, Heaven came along for the ride and they had to find it for themselves. )
Raphael cupped Abelâs face, running a thumb on his cheek, his gaze wishing to tell him what he wanted for himâfor their future, but he kept silent, for he had other plans now at the forefront of his mind, other plans that he had to bide his time. Abel was an amazing muse for this sort of thing, for brainchildren born from glamour and stardust, at least he thought so.
âWell,â he started, a wide grin on his face, âIâll stay. Maybe your brother gave us this little mercy, but I will stay until you need me to; youâre the most important thing to me, after all. I love you too much to say otherwise. Every moment Iâm apart is something a little more unpleasant than Iâd like to be without you or your smile.â
âI will always need you to stay.â
He melted into Raphaelâs side with an enormous sigh, relief and gratitude exuding from every inch of bruised and battered skin; where moments before, Abel had been able to focus on nothing but the pain, his arm around Abelâs shoulder and the warmth his closeness provided was enough to make him feel a healed man once more. A healed man with a bleeding heart, a heart that was entirely owned by the man at his side; heâd never be the same again, for one life-changing confession and Abel would never hurt again. There was no question in his mind that this was where he was meant to be, why he had been allowed to keep his faulty heart, even after such a mortifying century without its beating. The stillness of his heart had simply been a necessary purgatory; perhaps heâd been waiting for Raphael his entire life -- it was only a disservice that it had taken him so long to realize it.Â
Abel could only imagine what eternity with Raphael would be like; if only heâd realized the name upon his heart before this, they could have been afforded a taste of eternity much sooner. He could only wonder if Raphael had already known it, if a single night spent releasing inhibitions in Mykonos had clued him in, or if heâd known long before that. A part of Abel was sure that heâd always known, but merely had not been able to understand what it was he knew so instinctively; heâd loved Raphael from the moment they met, from their first adventure, from the first time Raphael had seen his weakness, which he tried so hard to hide. Heâd loved him in Italy, when theyâve visited Sforza for the final time; heâd loved him at the beginning of the war, and he loved him now -- were he given the chance to talk to himself, it would be spent entirely upon scolding himself.Â
He may have been naive, he may have been young at heart, but Abel was old enough and smart enough to know that this was where he was meant to be. Abel would happily take a hundred lashes more if it meant that he could spend a moment longer in solitude with Raphael. No amount of time with him would ever be enough; but if they were afforded forever, it would be a wonderful start.Â
âI donât know what Iâd do without you,â he sighed, cheeks remaining an ostentatious pink at Raphaelâs lascivious -- but always good natured -- comments, concerning the strenuous activities the both of them were like to engage in once his back was healed and his ribs sturdy once more. The mere thought made his heart go wild, thumping against the ribs still preserved; there was not a single thing about Raphael that did not send his heart running rampant in a way it never had before. As if his heart had not been running at full steam before, as if Raphael truly, literally, completely was his other half, and the warmth he provided was the only thing keeping it sustained. It was Raphaelâs mind, his heart, his soul that made Abelâs archaic heart feel young once more; he could be blind and he would know him by touch alone. âDoubtless I would have withered away long before today -- but even now, I have no plans to. Couldnât leave you behind without me. Thereâs no world without the two of us.âÂ
The two of them, in any circumstance, could endure anything and everything. Were they damned to spend eternity in these cells, it would be enough, as long as it was Raphaelâs voice on the other side of the wall, and Raphaelâs arms into which he fell in the yard every day at high noon. They could whip him, beat him, threaten his life on an hourly basis, and as long as he was afforded a mere glimpse of that charming smile, he would be sustained. It was doubtless that he was utterly gone for Raphael; the unwavering smile which adorned his face at the simplest touch was evidence enough of that.Â
âIf we were to leave here, right now,â Abel mused, âwhere should we go? Where would you want to go? I would follow you anywhere you pleased.â He laid his head upon Raphaelâs shoulder, sinking further into the space beneath his strong arm, hand falling to his knee and thumb rubbing in absent circles upon the rough fabric of his trousers. âI think I would like to go somewhere warm, somewhere near the ocean. Somewhere with lots of sunshine, somewhere private, where we could just... be. It would be lovely to just be for a while, just the two of us. Iâd love to learn to surf. Or to be able to talk to a parrot, at least once. Do they really talk back?â He laughed once, hand flying to his ribs as the movement made him cringe. âI remember the sunset over the water being the absolute best. I wonder if Cain would ever visit -- no matter, though; itâd be perfect with just the two of us. The two of us and a parrot.â
âSo, yes -- always stay. No matter what.â
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He was coming in.
An imperceptible twitch ruffled Cainâs wings where they were draped over the back of his chair, some last vestige of fight or flight when he had chosen, at least for the mean time, neither. He could feel Abelâs eyes boring into him through that suddenly oppressive darkness, sensing that he had been recognized despite the fact that both of their faces were for the moment obscured. They had never been able to hide well from each other, even if Cain had tried. For now all he could do was stay seated, hovering over the rim of his mug, and track Abelâs progress as he stepped up the short front walk and reached out for the door handle. Cain found himself poignantly wishing that he wouldnât follow through. What game was Abel playing at, after all these years, still trying so hard to make their relationship work, trying to rouse some familial feeling in Cainâs chest when it had never been there from the beginning? That ancient frustration was simmering up again; Abel never would have had to die if heâd just left Cain alone the way he wanted. Deeper inside him, the thought that Abel had never had to die after all and Cain forced it down again with the practiced ease of someone well used to suppressing such thoughts.Â
Cain had no regrets and he had always prided himself on it: the fact that he could look back on every wrongful deed heâd committed without a twinge of guilt. Guilt was for those who had fallen too far to know themselves anymore. Guilt was what took over when one allowed their thoughts to creep towards what they could have been instead of coming to terms with what theyâd become: something low and vile, something more at home in the gutter than in the light of undeserved forgiveness. Guilt was the mirror reflecting the slimy rind of what was left in place of oneâs soul. It was a mirror Cain refused to look in. He didnât need it to understand the truth of who he was. What he did need was for Abel to find it in himself, in his stubbornly good heart, to see who Cain truly was and come to terms with it, release himself from his self imposed attachment. Though, he thought with a grimace as the door bells tinkled, Cain had made many mistakes recently. He should never have gone to his knees to hold Abel on that bloody floor. He should never have given him that kind of blind hope that Abel would hold fast to with the tenacity of a bulldog for centuries.Â
Then Abel was there- right there, sitting across from him and making small talk, asking about his sleeping habits of all things and slowly, cautiously, Cain turned his head to tear his gaze away from the empty black street and focus instead on the face of his brother. There was so much to see there, not just his familiar features but the quivering uncertainty in Abelâs lips, the conflict in his eyes, the perspiration on his brow. Too many things to look at, and the eyes were the most distracting, enough so that he found himself needing to look away again, back out at the flickering lamp, back into himself where the contact would be only as intimate as Cain would allow it to be. There had to be some control, some boundaries set in place, where would he be without them?Â
âYou must have a death wish.â Cain said softly, finally, taking a long sip from his still-steaming cup. The bitter taste settled heavily on his tongue and he welcomed the sensory distraction of the scalding heat as it traveled down his throat. âSneaking out like this, coming into town, alone.â One more small moment of weakness, just a quick glance over Abelâs body, still broken in so many places, moving so slowly back towards health. Cain had given Raphael the best Judasâ prison could muster in terms of tools but unsurprisingly healing had not been top of the list of priorities. But Abel had survived loosing his wings hadnât he, when so many had succumbed then and there from the trauma? There had been just as much blood then, sticky and dark and pooling around Cainâs feet, so much he hadnât been able to comprehend where it had come from or how his brother could have keep going when his veins surely were running empty, when he had no life blood left to give and -. The images pulled him back even deeper into his memory and Cain had to physically shake himself out of it with a jerky toss of his head, fingers flexing irritably around his mug.Â
âThereâs more coffee behind the counter, sugar too.â He muttered. âI take mine black.â
And upon beholding the glorious Cain, Abel felt... imperceptibly empty.Â
A strange feeling this was, one that stood in stark juxtaposition with the usual overabundant flush of emotion that filled him at the mere thought of his brother. His fingers drummed upon the coffee mug between his palms as he waited for the familiar sting of uncertain emotion to permeate the empty space between his ribs; it had taken his heart years and years to start once more after it had started the first time -- perhaps this was a similar hesitation, something in his genetic makeup that made him hesitate, that made him slower than the others. Abel had always been slow; perhaps this comfortable descent into purgatory ( was purgatory meant to look like a coffee shop? was this the quintessential human resting place, transition point, place to wait? ) was merely a strange manifestation of his certain slowness. Perhaps it was the bastard child of his one-step-behind and his determination to see his brother as this -- as someone who could simply sit in a coffee shop, in a diner, upon plastic seats and on the opposite side of a table stained with crayon marks and coffee splatters.Â
It reminded him of the train station heâd once found himself in, a small place, a dark place punctuating a long string of railway just outside Bavaria. Heâd taken the train as long as he could, as long as it would run, but once the train had stopped, heâd been left there with artfully hidden wings and a single bag to make him appear more human. There had been a horribly dingy coffee shop nestled in the back corner -- and that was what it was; a corner, and nothing more -- with one working light and coffee that tasted more light lighter fluid than what his beloved humans so relied on. Abel had been convinced that this was what purgatory looked like; the end of a line to nowhere, slowly fading light, hunched backs and eyes unwilling to see him there. But purgatory was here; this could be the only explanation for Cainâs docile attitude, his placid face ( as placid as he could possibly be considering the norm ), his notable lack of aversion to Abelâs sitting down before him. He could not help but wonder if the both of them had died in the night, if this was all part of Godâs divine punishment for the both of them.Â
But God was dead -- and Cainâs wings, at least, seemed to have an opinion. They were not as dead as God; they were merely in purgatory of their own design.Â
âWell, Iâm not alone anymore,â he noted absently, staring down into his empty mug as if it would offer some answers as to why Cain was here, what he was meant to say to him now. Abel was already off to a horridly false start, where conversation was concerned; though Cain was there in body, he was certainly not present in spirit, nor had he ever been. Abel could only imagine how desperately his dear brother must have wanted to be free of him, to be left in peace once more; heâd wanted it so desperately before that heâd killed him for a little peace and quiet. And here he was now, disturbing his peace and quiet for the sake of simply being able to look upon him as he had not been able to before. He could just barely feel Cain sizing him up with equal hesitance, though he could only be sure that their reasonings were vastly different. He was so thin, so sallow; he could only wish at being allowed to voice such concerns, as a brother was supposed to be able to do. They were supposed to be a lot of things -- but were they to conform to every expectation, Cain would not have made such a concerted effort to heal him just nights before. Abel knew better than to say so, however; silence was thanks enough.Â
Tightening his grip around the mug, Abel slid to the end of the booth again; he nodded to Cainâs cup, taking a chance by invasively peering down into it, âIâll just bring the pot over; you look like you need a refill.â He was not about to comment on his brotherâs ghastly coffee order; Abel had never seen the merit of black coffee, for it just seemed a waste of a delicious drink. Biting his tongue, he rose from the booth once more, making a hasty and awkward cross to the pot behind the counter, casting cursory glances at Cain over his shoulder every few steps, as if his brother might disappear should he look away for too long. Upon his toes, he reached over the counter for the coffee pot and a few packets of sugar, feeling quite akin to Stella in a moment of amusement as he crossed back to the booth, nearly stumbling over a displaced chair for he was more determined to keep his eyes on Cain than on just where he was watching. âAm I allowed to ask what youâre doing here?â he wondered aloud, filling his cup and shamelessly dumping two, three, four packets of sugar into the mug. He was tempted just to let it be; but curiosity killed the angel. âThe coffeeâs good here,â a sip, a nod, âI donât blame you.âÂ
September 3 Paradise, WA; Luciferâs Manor 5:40 PM OPEN: all
Heâd been hesitant to even leave the room that all the angels had been gathered in, but the thought of just staying made him more uncomfortable than heâd cared to bear.
Elijah found himself wandering the manor, drinking in the details of the building. Everything was so⊠ornate. Almost to the point of gaudiness, if Elijah were to be truthful. He didnât have any intention of actually escaping. He didnât know the layout of the manor, and he certainly wasnât going to run around blind and potentially run into someone he didnât want to. Of course, wandering around blind didnât really lessen his chances of doing that either. It was more that he was operating on the hunch that, if he were just wandering and not looking like he was trying to escape, any demons that he had the misfortune to run into wouldnât see him as a threat.
Wandering down the unnecessarily detailed hallway, ghosting his fingers over the things that caught his interest, Elijah was so absorbed in trying to memorize the details that he didnât hear anyone coming up the hallway. When heâd clued in that the steps he was hearing were not his own, he jerked to face the oncoming person.
Retracting his hand as if heâd been burned by the gilded pieces. âI- I wasnât⊠doing anything,â the lie stuttered out of his mouth, thoroughly unconvincing, and he looked wide eyed at the person heâd carelessly let find him.
It was lucky that heâd gotten away after leaving Stella; diversion had turned to lucky escape, for the rustle of black wings followed him around every corner. It was also quite lucky that heâd not come face to face with his brother. From what heâd heard, whispered by allies around dark corners and enemies behind closed doors, heâd sunk his claws into a human as well -- the newly minted cynicism in the back of his mind, as feeble as it was, could not help but wonder if they would soon find the human dangling from something by the neck. The louder and more positive voice at the forefront of his mind, however, was certain that the human would be returned to the dining room unscathed, for he still maintained an undeniable hope in his brotherâs moral fibre.Â
He was more inclined to focus upon the familiar figure before him, however, for he would recognize the slope of Elijahâs shoulders anywhere. It would be rather precarious to call out to him now, so Abel hastened forward, fingers trailing along the crown molding upon the wall at his side. Were they under different circumstances, he might have stopped to admire the gaudy artwork upon the wall, but ensuring Elijahâs wellbeing was of the utmost importance.Â
He started at his fellow angelâs quick turnaround, his own hands flying up in a mirrored surrender, and for a moment he merely stared at him, apologetic and startled, for Abelâs nerves were frayed and he was rather ashamed for skulking behind Elijah in such a way. âOh dear --â Abel stuttered, âIâm so sorry, Elijah, I didnât mean to -- itâs just me.â Abel was the least threatening presence here, surely. âIâm not one to judge for snooping; are you alright?â
âItâs all about good timing and luck â but I suppose an empty stomach helps. Food can be pretty convincing,â Holly replied, walking around the diner to get to the kitchen door. The girl had missed her motherâs cooking, especially when she craved something familial. Something of comfort, and flavor, like her motherâs apple pies or roast dinner. The blonde didnât even have the chance to learn some of those recipes ( they were burned down, like the rest of the house ).Â
With her spare hand, Holly pushed past the door, knowing it hadnât been locked. People in Paradise werenât going to steal from the diner â the diner had been sacred. A spot for socializing and normalcy. They didnât need anymore crime, not when those beasts were the ones that brought havoc upon everyone.Â
She turned the kitchen lights on, adding, â.. I can teach you! You can put anything you want, really. I like putting chocolate chips in the batter while itâs cooking â make the chips melt into the pancakes. And then all you need is powered sugar, some whipped cream, and syrup to finish it off.âÂ
Holly let go of his hand, rummaging through the fridge of find some batter. After searching for possible toppings and add-ons, all the ingredients were gathered on the counter ( chocolate chips, blueberries, strawberries, etc ). The ballerina reached for a pan, replying, â⊠Only if Iâm hungry. Otherwise Iâll usually end up wandering around town. Itâs pretty quiet during the night â sometimes, Iâll even watch the sun rise.âÂ
Sleep evaded her, for multiple reasons ( most of them involving bad memories ).Â
Heâd never seen such an enormous kitchen; all chrome, all notably sterile, all expansive like some sort of industrial machine specifically created to produce pancakes. Abel noted a long rack of sorts upon the opposite wall, all holding aprons which bore names, upon closer inspection; he could not help but linger on the apron that bore the name tag âSTELLAâ. As Holly set to work behind him, he ran his thumb over the worn laminated name, a minute smile playing on his lips; he was in their world now, an observer who was simply lucky to be there. Not to mention a starving observer -- the demons seemed to take a particular amusement in withholding food, so Holly was a doubtless life saver.Â
âChocolate chip pancakes,â he hummed, turning back to Holly and patting his stomach theatrically; as if on cue, his stomach gave an impassioned rumble, thoroughly helping his cause. âAnd that is why I love humans -- you come up with the most wonderful things!â Heâd never put chocolate in his breakfast before, unless he were to count the time heâd convinced Raphael to eat ice cream for breakfast with him for a whole week. Theyâd made themselves thoroughly sick, but it had been a delicious process.Â
Abel sidled over and hopped up onto the counter beside her -- hopped, more like struggled, for grace and ease were not his forte; especially not with weak ribs and a severe lack of coordination -- and reached across to take a handful of chocolate chips. âDid you cook often, er, before?â Abel was always quite hesitant to ask about the lives of humans before the Fall, but Holly was so young, and he could hardly resist. âYou look like a professional.â
times when you ask yourself who is CUTER: douglas booth or riley the kangaroo?
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i like you // i love you // iâm indifferent toward you // youâre one of my best friends // youâre like family // you are family // i dislike you // i hate you // iâm jealous of you // iâm scared of you // i would adopt you // iâm attracted to you // iâd date you // iâd sleep with you // iâd marry you // iâm worried about you // you confuse me // youâre annoying // i respect you // i want your respect // i feel protective of you // iâd like to cut loose with you // youâre good-looking // iâm suspicious of you // iâm hiding something from you // youâre fun // youâre boring // youâre nice // youâre mean // youâre smart // youâre stupid // i think youâre a better person than me // i think iâm a better person than you // i want to apologize to you // i want an apology from you // i wish iâd never met you // i never want to forget you // i want to get to know you better
A kiss upon the lips, given freely had managed to lift his spirits, a veritable smile on his divine face when Abel had given it to himâhe was utterly weak for him, he realized; he could tell him to leave and he would do it however much he hated it. He was his own little Eden in a sea of chaos, keeping him afloat with every little dramatic thing that the demons managed to throw at him and his immortal family, and he was grateful for it. Shoving the shirt to his side, he couldnât help but stare a little bit more at him, a devilish grin upon his face. It would not do well to openly do this here, but he never could help but look at Abel whenever he had the opportunity to do so, eyes grazing over skin and thoughts running a bit wilder than heâd like.
But he had a job to do, and he couldnât start compromising his work ethic for every pretty angel that he had to heal. ( Maybe that could use some exceptions in the future. )
He slowly and gently started turning him over, carrying all of his weight and trying to not burst the new stitches, for even with angelic blood running through them they were going to take a while more to heal up and it would not do for it to unravel now. Laying him flat on his stomach gingerly, he started to look at his back this time, at once flayed flesh, now matted with scars like a battlefield on some distant place. Forgiveness, he thought, should never look like ruin, however much the world would beat on it. He started to look, his eyes grazing over skin when he finally found itâthe wound that was troubling Abel.
If it was possible, he blanched even more at the opening, clean-cut and precise as the last one, but deeper and angrier, a mark used in sadism, in glee. For a moment, he was transported back to France, to de la Mort, and a sickness formed in stomach, instantly vanquishing the lightness in his heart as he kept on staring at it for what seemed like an eternity, feeling like he was drowning under a sea of blood. ( Flashes in his mind; an A on the chest, careful cuts on the body, holding someone that was bleeding and trying to get them to open their eyes. ) He took in a gasp of air, and started to get to work at it. The sooner he finished him up, the sooner he could hold him and love the pain away; what was he good for if not that?
Testing the wound if it was as deep as he thought, pinching the skin and looking for possible infections inside, he moved mechanically and measured up what he would need internally, for this was going to hurt for him. âBrace yourself, dear,â he instructed, using the available alcohol to clean the wound, and started to stitch the wound back together, an arduous process considering the length of it. Muttering encouragement and praise as he sewed it shut, it seemed like  it took a lifetime before he had to cut the thread and finish up the wound with some gauze.Â
( He never wanted him to get hurt againâbut what are the chances of that actually happening? Â )
Pressing his lips to the base of his neck, he gave a hum and started to turn him over on his face, trying to seem more composed than he currently was, and gave him a bright smile. âWell, arenât you the best patient? Donât do anything strenuous for a while, nothing that could impact your shoulder or stomach,â he advised, rattling off basic procedure, âIâm sorry you even had to hurt like that, darling.â
He kissed him then, something deep and loving, to bite back against anything that could do him harm. If kisses could heal then, he may never have let his lips lift from Abelâs. âTo help you feel better,â he said cheekily, âA spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down, after all.â
He could almost feel Raphael stiffen, along with the stagnant air around him, at the sight of the carnage that had befallen his back; Abel did his best to adjust himself, to flatten his shoulder and gingerly hold his ribs and fresh stitches off the stone floor. Abel stared down at the stone, brows furrowed and quivering fingers pressing against the floor, wishing he could reach around to Raphael once more to assure him that it was fine, that he would be healed in no time. As long as his Angel of Healing was here, he could survive anything; the added strength that came from such archaic blood made the healing easier, but something about Raphaelâs gentle hand soothed his soul in a way that nothing scientific ever could.Â
Even if those hands dug about in his opened flesh with little warning, sending stiff shoulder flinching downward. âSorry, sorry,â he gasped, eyes reeling and stars dancing before his eyes. âCould we just... skip this part and... and let me kiss you again?â But Raphael was clinical and professional, and there was no doubt that he would relent before Abel was well on his way to being healed. He could only be thankful for that; he would much rather endure a bit of pain than wallow in the feeling of half-healing for the rest of his endless life. And if it meant that Raphael would be proud of him, he would do absolutely anything; he could remember clearly allowing his hand to be crushed in a heavy door simply so that he could go to Raphael to have it healed. He had discovered then that the easiest way to seem tough was to not cry when bones were being set ( heâd cried later that night ) and Raphaelâs pride at his bravery had become a drug that heâd quickly hooked himself on without reservation.Â
Brace yourself, dear.Â
It was really a quite short moment of warning, for before Abel could truly brace himself, rubbing alcohol was poured into his wounds, audibly sizzling into the torn muscle and exposed bone. All thoughts of making Raphael proud evaporated in favor of a startled cry, back arching down into the dirt and stone, palms flattening against the ground at the level of his eyes. His cry filled the cell, reverberating around stone and metal, and he squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his teeth and balling his fingers into fists upon the stone. Turning onto his cheek, he craned his neck to look back at Raphael, mindless and panicked response to the pain paralyzing his back. It would all be worth it, he told himself; he would be healed; Raphael would be proud; he could hold him when it was all over, and the pain would be forgotten and forgiven. It was blinding for a moment, but as the needle and thread began to pull him together, with Raphaelâs hand bracing his unbruised skin, Abel began to come back to his senses.Â
Abel pressed his forehead to the stone again as Raphaelâs lips pressed a comforting kiss to the base of his neck. âI didnât brace myself,â he huffed, a weak laugh and a shake of the head, with sandy hair hanging in a curtain over his face. With a groan, he did his best to help in rolling over once more, though he was largely useless, for he was oh so tired and embarrassingly weak. Nevertheless, he made a concerted effort to reach up and turn up Raphaelâs lips at the corners, the ghost of a smile upon his face. âAll better,â he smiled, voice small, but full of all the enthusiasm he could muster, âYouâll have to help me keep from tearing them up; we both know how much I love strenuous activity.â His face flushed as he realized the certain implications of his words, though he was quick to speak again to cover his accidental flub. âThank you for fixing me,â he squeezed Raphaelâs hand, smile turning honest, and less pink than before.Â
( raphael had fixed him in more ways than one; did he know that abel was held together by strings that he had placed there? )
He kissed Raphael back with all the energy he could muster, neck craning forward and hands cupping his face; it was better medicine than anything he could have ever asked for, and made him feel warm and whole all in one. âAnd youâre sweeter than sugar,â he grinned, leaning forward as best he could to give him another peck upon the lips ( greedy and thankful as he was ) with fingers brushing black curls from his brow. âDo you think theyâll let you stay? At least for a little while -- if only you could stay here all night. Nothing hurts when youâre here; feels good as new. Could you just stay forever?â
Stay here forever, with him forever, together forever; forever, forever, forever. Forever seemed like a reasonable order when Raphael was added into the equation. Before him forever had seemed like a punishment, an endless reminder of betrayal and servitude, but Raphael was purpose, Raphael was healing, and Raphael was forever. But if he could stay here for just tonight, just to help him heal a little quicker, he would be grateful.Â
Abel was light. Lighter than he thought possible for a person to be, but he quickly reminded himself that he wasnât a personâ he was an angel. A being that was more than human, so much more than human. Dominic pulled him up and immediately noticed the way the other backed away from him when he was upright. The whole thing wasnât all that surprising, who wouldnât back away from a person that had assaulted them only days ago? There was this strange feeling in the back of his throat⊠It tasted like bile and was something he didnât experience often. He swallowed, ignoring the way that guilt felt going down the back of his throat. How sad was this whole thing? One loss in a fight made him feel normal human emotions again.Â
Pathetic.
The tone of Abelâs voice pissed him off and the scowl on his face made that clear, but he no longer had any impulse to attack him. That was all it was at the end of the dayâ an impulse to hurt someone else the way heâd been hurt. Abel was vulnerable and the easiest thing in the room to prey on. Now that he had been a victim at the hands of two demons, he decided that he wouldnât prey on the weak again. Alright that is total bullshit, but he was trying to do something better.
âEven if it was, do you think Iâd say something? The last thing I need right now is a fucking demon asking me questions about you.â He runs a hand through his hair, peering down the street into the dark. Why did this angel have to appear and become his responsibility. âDo you need a place to hide or are you trying to find someone in town?â A pause. âI owe you one good thing after what happened, I guess.â
He immediately realized, with a strange jolt of reality, that this had put them both in a strange limbo, in which they could not quarrel, and Dominic could not take out his aggression. There was a wall between them, which looked startling like his own brother, and which kept them a safe distance apart. The scars upon his shoulders and the barely-healed bruises that littered his torso like haphazard prison tattoos throbbed in protest against his critical gaze, for he was scowling as if he wished Abel to burst into flames beneath the hard judgement of shadowed eyes. Absently, a tentative hand came up to brace his ribs, holding them together as if they might tumble from him should Dominic step any closer.Â
One good thing. Were Abel a different man, he might see the conditions behind such an offer, but he was himself, and so all he could feel was grateful. âI would not turn down a place to hide for a while; I can only imagine who might be looking for me now.â He quite wanted to see Stella and Holly, and to investigate the strangeness of the new figure in Paradise, but he would not pass up the opportunity to patch up a wound were it given freely. âSafe is subjective, surely, but I would appreciate a chance to breathe for a moment.â
âIf itâs not too much trouble, of course.â
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I like you // I love you // Iâm indifferent toward you // Youâre one of my best friends // Youâre like family // You are family // I dislike you // I hate you // Iâm jealous of you // Iâm scared of you // I would adopt you // Iâm attracted to you // Iâd date you // Iâd sleep with you // Iâd marry you // Iâm worried about you // You confuse me // Youâre annoying // I respect you // I want your respect // I feel protective of you // Iâd like to cut loose with you // Youâre good-looking // Iâm suspicious of you // Iâm hiding something from you // Youâre fun // Youâre boring // Youâre nice // Youâre mean // Youâre smart // Youâre stupid // I think youâre a better person than me // I think Iâm a better person than you // I want to apologize to you // I want an apology from you // I wish Iâd never met you // I never want to forget you // I want to get to know you betterÂ
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he is almost divine in the literal sense god-adjacent heaven-born with nectar lips and a golden heart his swift-footed grace your swift-falling heart the star-filled sky lit up like a song called fate it is hard to tell where gazes stop and touches start (and oh- even his pulse is quick) the gods take what they will but this this is yours alone and all the prayers melt into his collarbones like rain sometimes his eyes are storms and his rage is rather disquieting but this is what happens when you bottle up the sun and use it as a candle: it burns he makes you better and he makes you forget for all the holy exhales and altars of âalwaysâ you are but mortal lovers in a godsâ war
we were like gods (except for the blood rushing through our veins)
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I like you // I love you // Iâm indifferent toward you // Youâre one of my best friends // Youâre like family // You are family // I dislike you // I hate you // Iâm jealous of you // Iâm scared of you // I WOULD ADOPT YOUÂ // Iâm attracted to you // Iâd date you // Iâd sleep with you // Iâd marry you // Iâm worried about you // You confuse me // Youâre annoying // I respect you // I want your respect // I feel protective of you // Iâd like to cut loose with you // Youâre good-looking // Iâm suspicious of you // Iâm hiding something from you // Youâre fun // Youâre boring // Youâre nice // Youâre mean // Youâre smart // Youâre stupid // I think youâre a better person than me // I think Iâm a better person than you // I want to apologize to you // I want an apology from you // I wish Iâd never met you // I never want to forget you // I want to get to know you betterÂ
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I like you // I love you // Iâm indifferent toward you // Youâre one of my best friends // Youâre like family // You are family // I dislike you // I hate you // Iâm jealous of you // Iâm scared of you // I would adopt you // Iâm attracted to you // Iâd date you // Iâd sleep with you // Iâd marry you // Iâm worried about you // You confuse me // Youâre annoying // I respect you // I want your respect // I feel protective of you // Iâd like to cut loose with you // Youâre good-looking // Iâm suspicious of you // Iâm hiding something from you // Youâre fun // Youâre boring // Youâre nice // Youâre mean // Youâre smart // Youâre stupid // I think youâre a better person than me // I think Iâm a better person than you // I want to apologize to you // I want an apology from you // I wish Iâd never met you // I never want to forget you // I want to get to know you betterÂ
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I like you // I love you // Iâm indifferent toward you // Youâre one of my best friends // Youâre like family // You are family // I dislike you // I hate you // Iâm jealous of you // Iâm scared of you // I would adopt you // Iâm attracted to you // Iâd date you // Iâd sleep with you // Iâd marry you // Iâm worried about you // You confuse me // Youâre annoying // I respect you // I want your respect // I feel protective of you // Iâd like to cut loose with you // Youâre good-looking // Iâm suspicious of you // Iâm hiding something from you // Youâre fun // Youâre boring // Youâre nice  // Youâre mean // Youâre smart // Youâre stupid // I think youâre a better person than me // I think Iâm a better person than you // I want to apologize to you // I want an apology from you // I wish Iâd never met you // I never want to forget you // I want to get to know you betterÂ