Demon Turned Lover [BxB]

Coitus

       Before I knew it, two weeks had passed since I first entered Mammon's apartment. I expected those days to go by slowly, as all I would be doing was moping around, but I was wrong. You see, I had taken those two weeks as bereavement leave. Like a human mourned their deceased ones, I mourned myself, and Elise. I couldn't stomach that I was inside the very apartment she was in before she perished, and that I was biding with the cause of her death also—I knew it wasn't his fault, yet couldn't help but pour the blame on him. Like a domino would fall too after the one before it fell, I was next. I wanted there to be meaning behind my timely expiry. But now, I was plainly going to be known as one of Mammon's ill-starred guardian angels. My successes, my failures, they would all be no more, as would I and as was Elise. I didn't want the ones I loved to march on with life like they had with Elise: I didn't want my brother to treat me like a late mentor he'd accredit. I didn't want Kallista to find another. I didn't want Ezekiel to think of me as an old memory. I didn't want to be forgotten.

       And because of those reasons, I told myself that I needed to try, for Elise, for Mikkel, and everyone back home; to stop myself departing from their minds. That was why I was sat on the middle of this bed, empty-eyed and surrounded by innumerable pages of ideas. It looked like I was caught as sacrifice in the midst of a ritual—hopefully a ritual to summon audacity to act on those ideas.

       Mammon, however, forged on with his days as usual, blasting loud music each dawn and yelling expletives unexpectedly. Clearly, he didn't mind that I had shut myself in this room, perchance he was even happy.

       I flinched as soon as I heard the sound of obscene music coming from the kitchen, though took it as a cue to get up. Although a fortnight had passed, I still hadn't got used to hearing such salacious songs. I told myself not to pay attention to the carnal lyrics, but how could I when the music was so loud? It was practically trying to force its way into your ear canal. I groaned, sweeping all the latin-filled pages with my hands till they were a pile of superficially unnecessary pages. Until now, my bed had looked like the evidence board of a detective.

         I hopped off the bed before adjusting the rose bracelet on my wrist and lumbering to the beige wardrobe. I had a long day of evaluation before me, and I needed to look at least semi-presentable for the Lord. I pulled out a mustard shirt, unfolding it before pushing my head through the hole.

       "Yo guardian angel, you-"

       I swiftly tugged the mustard fabric from covering my eyes, leaving it around my neck as I peered at Mammon. He was openly staring at my naked torso, a rouge travelling to his cheeks instantly.

       "Why are you...red?" I asked, flustered as I fixed my shirt.

      "I- came back from running a few laps." He propped himself on the doorframe, looking away. I was going to question that, but I would rather not experience what would result. "Gotta' stay healthy and shit."

       "Good for you." I neatened my hair slightly with my hand before shutting the doors of the wardrobe. "Do you need something?"

       "Yeah, actually. I need you to stop being antisocial and actually come out of your fuckin' room." The raven-haired, still red, invited himself—and the smell of cologne—into the bedroom and immediately headed towards the double bed.

        I freed a soft chuckle from my throat and pressed my back against the wardrobe. "What happened to rule number three?"

        "My rules don't apply to me." Mammon grabbed the pile of sheets from the ombre blue duvet and began riffling through them. He brought them closer to his face, apparently attempting to make sense of them, "The fuck are these?"