Tell Me I'm an Angel (Frerard)

Entry Five: His Name is Frank

Entry Five: His name is Frank

A week has passed since my encounter with that mysterious angel.

I had completed another assignment, but much to my disappointment, he hadn't made an appearance. I was desperate to see him again, but I had no idea how to track down angels, and I didn't want to ask in case I roused unnecessary suspicion. I had casually mentioned it to Bob, but he had just given me a quizzical look and said that he had never thought about it before; angels usually just found us, not the other way around.

So I found myself in a coffee shop on my next free day, looking up eagerly every time the bell over the door jangled out, hoping to catch a glimpse of dark hair and tattooed arms. I knew it was pointless, I wasn't on assignment, so he had no reason to find me, but I couldn't quench the hope that unfurled in my chest every time someone new walked in.

After staking out the door for almost an hour, I began to get dejected, and I stared down blankly at my hands. What was I doing here...my obsession with this angel was border-lining on pathetic.

At first, I had only wanted to find him again so I could die that much quicker...but if I was completely honest with myself, that wasn't the only reason I was yearning to see him again.

He had struck a chord inside me, and his refusal to destroy me had woken me up. When I finished my last assignment, I still felt like a piece of shit - don't get me wrong, but then I imagined his flawless face, and some of my depression had lifted.

I ached to hear him speak, to watch his beautiful lips form words that would enrapture me. I wanted to feel his wings, stroke their soft downy feathers in a tender caress. I knew these musings were ludicrous, I was a fucking demon, and he would never let me get that close to him, but it didn't stop me from picturing it in my seriously messed up mind.

I took a long sip of my lukewarm coffee and heaved a sigh of contentment. Becoming a demon hadn't dampened my love of the addicting drink, it still felt like heaven running down my throat. The only thing that had changed was that I didn't feel the buzz caffeine used to give me, but it wasn't necessary anymore.

Did I mention that demons don't need to sleep? I was constantly in a perpetual state of awareness, sometime I chose to sleep in Hell to pass the time, but it wasn't necessary anymore. Bob told me if we stayed on Earth too long, we would begin to feel drowsy again, just like we began to hunger for food as well, but so far, I hadn't spent enough time on the surface to feel any negative effects.

After emptying my now cooling cup of coffee, I gave up on the futile hope of my angel randomly appearing in this god forsaken coffee shop, but before I returned to Hell, I decided to engage in another pointless addiction.

I lit up my cigarette and drew a long pull into my lungs, which were now impervious to cancer. Closing my eyes in satisfaction, I blissfully exhaled, and when I opened my eyes, I swear to god...or Satan I guess...that I almost shit myself.

Standing in front of me, looking even more attractive then I remembered, was none other than my angel.

"I thought you were never coming out of that coffee shop."

Those were his first words to me, and I will certainly not forget them. The memory of our conversation that followed will never fade, but on the off chance that amnesia is some hidden side effect of being a demon for too long, I will write it down here just in case.

"Would you laugh at me if I said I was waiting for you?" I couldn't believe I had actually had the ability to articulate words, I was so shocked by his arrival that I had been sure I would be struck speechless.