Demon Turned Lover [BxB]

Hibiscus

        It rang, and rang, until I had memorised all the notes of the damned ringtone. Why wasn't he answering his phone? Ezekiel never left it ring for longer than three seconds. My wings abruptly discontinued the flight, but flapped to keep me aloft. I looked down at the town, blanketed but brushed with lights of different colours—red, blues, greens—and I felt a pang in my core. I had a thought.

Mammon would have loved this sight.

In a flash, the wings dissipated and I enabled my body to land in front of the door. I bestowed a series of knocks to the door before wrapping my arms around my trembling trunk. This was the last card I had.

It flew open, and I exhaled of relief.

Victor gaped at me, his jaw slackened, but pity closed it at full tilt, as though he knew already what had happened.

"Can I...come in?"

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩 𓂋 𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

          Blankly I stared at the muted lilac wall by my face, the spine of the mint notebook burdened with my cheek. I had tried everything—even when I felt like doing arrant nothing. Journalling. Taking to my reality. Watching bizarre movies. Aiding Marie on her canvas. Drinking teas. Working out with Victor. Though, impressing the detail of the wall on my eyes seemed to run best. But even so, my mind would start to paint over the chipping with ridiculous thoughts.

        "I wonder what Mammon is doing."

        "Does he miss me?"

       "Is he worried about where I am?"

       Some nights, under the spell of sleep, I would roll over to embrace him, only for nothing to be there.

       I could feel Loki rub his small face against my back as Victor's fists bore down on the double bed. He purred gently, accompanying the dawning kettle.

       "Alright Luka, eviction notice." The demi threw a crumpled up page at the wall, and it ricocheted upon my face. No wonder the wall had been scaling off. I ignored it, tweaking the seersucker duvet atop my jaw.

"Come on, I learnt how to print just to give you that! The least you can do is look at it."

"You mean throw it at me." Thrusting the unwrapping message overhead, I spun on my back. The striped cat hopped over the plane of my stomach, before abutting my side. I read out the bold red writing audibly, "You're evicted from my bed..."

"Yep, so get up!" Victor exclaimed as his fingers latched on to the white duvet, like a grizzly bear about to climb a tree. He wrested it without any printed notice, constructing a gasp in my throat.

I pulled it towards me. "But your bed is comfier than the couch! And you get the bed at night anyway!"

"True, but I miss my bed." He haled it once more, but this time I relinquished the soft lover and bounded to the off-white two seater.

The man set his hands on his hips out of exasperation—his nose no longer wore the square bandage. "Oh come on! I thought that would get you up!"

Marie came out from the square kitchen ahead of the bed, holding two beige cups birthing a steam. "Victor, let him take time to heal. It's only been a week. I had to nurse you for months after a bad break up."

He rolled his eyes at his older sister before flumping on the couch before us.

"I made you, um, some hibiscus tea," she said, tendering the warm cup to me as she sat down.