Demonic Influence (I hate my co-workers)

The Second Movement

Eddy was actually about to make himself and Brett something for lunch when it happened. Brett had gone out to his back porch to feed the birds. ("Why are there still birds, isn't it winter? Shouldn't they be migrating right now?" Eddy had asked, to which Brett had cocked his head in confusion and replied, "What do you mean? There are always birds around." It was at that moment that Eddy had realized he was completely right. This was an odd fact that should probably be chalked up to nothing more than the fact that wildlife seemed to be attracted to Brett's angelic aura.)

The raven flew in through one of the open windows, scaring Eddy senseless and dropping a sizable ribbon bound package on the table before flying out again. Honestly, if he didn't know any better, Eddy would have said he had imagined the bird. No normal raven could carry a box twice its size.

Sighing, he approached the box cautiously, ripping the scroll from the top when he had finally deemed it safe to open. The people back at the office loved a good laugh, and this would not have been the first time he had tried to open a box labeled "for work" and instead released a minor plague into the world, or found nothing but reanimated cockroaches, his least favorite of the creepy crawlies. However, this package appeared mostly safe, for now.

Eddy set down the plate he was holding and opened the letter, scanning through it quickly. His brow furrowed. It was from Fred.

Eddy,

I don't quite know how to write this out in a letter, but if this conversation took place in person, it would definitely be way more awkward. There's no real sympathetic way that I can say this, and I will be the first to tell you that I am really bad at sympathy, but it really sucks, what happened to Brett.

I know that statement in itself is admittedly not very comforting, but I can say this: no one in hell really cares about your loss. Oh, that wasn't really comforting either. Usually, this would be the part where I say "we're all so sorry for your loss," but since you hid your boyfriend from us, we never really got a chance to meet him. Also, if I'm being honest, they really just didn't care that much. You can't really blame them for that.

This letter was getting stranger and stranger by the line. Eddy wondered offhand if Fred had been drinking recently.

I bet you're wondering how I found out so quickly. Word travels fast, and it's not every day that heaven finds themself short an angel. I heard they're really broken up about it, and mad that they're going to have to find a replacement. I hope you can find a replacement as well, for the hole Brett must have left in your chest.

Eddy could almost feel the long awkward pause. Fred was wrong, this was just as weird as it would have been in person.

I hope that wasn't insensitive. Anywho, the kids at the office put together a package, with no cockroaches this time, I promise. I made sure myself, seeing as grief is a terrible thing and you're probably already suffering enough already.

Eddy could hear the back door creak open slowly, then close again. He didn't look up, he was beginning to understand the sounds of Brett's house. Brett walked through the room then, absentmindedly waving his arm in Eddy's direction. "I'm feeling a little weird, gonna go lie down," he called out.

"Okay, I'll let you know when I have lunch ready," Eddy responded. He could hear Brett shuffling around for a couple moments more before he finally plopped down in his room somewhere.

I assume he used to cook for you, since you definitely shouldn't be cooking for anyone, so we've sent you a care package. The lasagna might be a little squished, but it was made with love. And only a couple of organs.

Eddy made a face. He could hear Brett rustling around in the other room, tossing and turning. Maybe he should make him tea... that always used to make him feel better when he felt under the weather.

Eddy continued to move around the kitchen, glancing down at the letter every so often as he began to make the tea.

I know it's also incredibly awkward to ask when you think you're going to be able to work in a letter like this, but quarterly numbers are almost up and you're so close to a promotion. I know the pain of loss can be near unbearable, and of course we'll give you some time to recover, but if you could just work a little more overtime, maybe cover Beth's shift, you could easily make the numbers.

All the best, and good luck with reorganizing the shambles that were once your life,

Fred

Eddy dropped the tea bag into the boiled water and threw a bit of honey into it. He picked it up carefully, to avoid spillage. It was at that moment that he heard a shriek from Brett's room. He was immediately on red alert.

"Brett?" He called out cautiously, starting to walk in the direction of the shriek. The repetitive nature of the frightened call from another room and the nervous response was starting to concern him. The house seemed to be holding its breath.

And then, "I'm fine!" Brett all but squeaked out, just as Eddy was just about to open the door. "Nothing's the matter here, no sir!"

Eddy paused, steaming tea still in hand. "Are you sure? You sounded upset..." He waited another moment. "I have tea..."

"No I'm fine, I-i just fell off the bed." Brett responded.

"I didn't hear a thunk," Eddy replied, more to himself than Brett.

"Seriously, I'm fine now, thanks! You can leave, I'll come out for lunch in a little bit," Brett called back through the door, which was open only a crack. Eddy could see Brett's shadow moving behind it, frantic.

"But I have the tea now," Eddy countered, fingers itching to start pushing on the door.

"Really," Brett squeaked back, voice about an octave higher than it should have been. "I'm okay." What is going on?

Eddy sighed. "Bro, I'm coming in, okay? I'll give you like five seconds or whatever, but I'm coming in." He counted to five, slowly. "Alright, ready or not, here I-"

The words died on Eddy's tongue as he pushed the door the rest of the way open. Brett was standing in the middle of the room, shirtless. He was holding a small trash can, and though frozen completely in place by Eddy's confused stare, he appeared to have been stuffing the small plastic container with something only moment's before.

This wasn't even the most surprising part. It looked like a pillow had exploded inside the room. White feathers were scattered everywhere, covering almost every open surface, as well as strewn throughout Brett's disheveled hair. Brett gave Eddy a small, very awkward smile. "Umm... they don't make pillows like they used to?" His eyes looked red and puffy, and even as Eddy watched, he halfheartedly leaned down and picked up another small handful of feathers, shoving them almost robotically in the comically small trash can.

"Brett," Eddy whispered into the open air, definitely not dropping the teacup because this was most definitely not a dramatic comedy, "What happened to your wings?" 

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A/N: Ta-da! I hope you all like it, this is more or less the beginning of the second part of the story! I couldn't help it, I was so excited that I posted it early. Lots of set up going on here. Can you figure out what's happening? I'd love to hear what you think! :D