The Reality Of Nightmare (BxB)

CHAPTER XVII: REBELLIOUS MORTAL - PART 1

CHAPTER XVII: REBELLIOUS MORTAL - PART 1

"I'm a twit
Degenerate young rebel
And I'm proud of it."
- Lady Gaga, Bad Kids

I'm all alone at this apartment, looking at the city of Brooklyn with a heavy feeling gnawing inside me. I've been staring, been watching the mortals through this floor-length glass. My heart has already calmed down yet my head is still flashing vivid images of the demon pushing me back at the counter, his face inches away from mine.

Inside my stomach is a bunch of butterflies fluttering wildly; just the thought of him does something inside me. I feel different. The feeling inside my chest is unfamiliar – it's confusing me. I want to explore this more, to know more about this feeling but to be honest it scares me. I'm afraid to know what this is. When I see the demon, Slate, I feel fuzzy and dizzy, and my heart races. My heart does a somersault whenever I see his perfectly-sculptured and beautiful face.

There are times, I realize, that I just want to run my fingers across his hair, to feel it against my fingertips, to feel how soft it is. Then I get this urge to run the pad of my fingers across his skin as they remind me of a China doll's. Then his eyes – they are a shade of dark brown, and they are amazingly beautiful. I could stare at it all day and never get tired of it. Yes, I admit that I get scared whenever he's around, but I also feel calm and secured whenever he's around. He had saved me thrice now – when I was sent down on Earth, he helped me, let me bathe myself, gave me clothes, hell he was even the reason why I got money to pay the landlady when I escaped because I found out that he was a demon; the second one is when I attempted to escape out of his grasp, and these unfriendly monsters tried to kill me when I successfully got away, or so I thought, and he appeared to save me; the third time is when he rescued me from Maki, though I still don't know if he's a bad kind of demon or a really, really bad kind of demon.

I have already cleaned the unit, from my room and to the kitchen. They are already cleaned, and I'm sure not even a single dust there is. Now that I have nothing to do, the only way to entertain myself is to watch the people fussing over the hot weather and yelling at the other passersby. I could watch television, but I wouldn't find anything worth watching since I really don't know how television works. It's a mortal device, so it will have mortal channels, and when it comes to mortals, I only have limited knowledge.

"I'm an Angel of Love," I hear myself saying, pouting. "I should know something, right?"

Though I'm only talking to myself, I'm hoping that someone's going to answer my question. Clearly I should know something, right? But when I rack my brain for any information about love, I come up with nothing. Of course I have no idea about love; that's the reason why I was sent down here on Earth, to learn the purpose of love. Or is that it? I remember my father saying that.

The night has come, and the moon is now giving light to the dark sky, which is a shade of a deep violet. Stars are visible, too, but since the clouds appear to be darker, as if it's going to rain, they are slightly visible.

Hours and hours have passed yet the only thing I've done, after cleaning the unit, is to stare and watch the people outside, watch the streets filled with honking cars, and watch the skyline. I have watched the sun slide down until it cut through the horizon, and watched the moon rise. Slate is yet to come home.

The clock reads 7:34 in the evening; I'm now looking at the door front door, as if expecting that Slate would open that and come inside, instead of looking at the busy streets of Brooklyn. I heave a sigh, shaking my head and muttering under my breath. Why am I hoping that he's going to come home? He said to me that I should not wait for him. Clearly that's another way of saying that he's not going to come home, right?