Wherever he goes, fire follows | Thomas Doherty

Epilogue.

Three years later

I lied on the couch again with a bowl of popcorn on my hands, ready to watch a movie. I live in my very own house now.

After three years, my daily routine hasn’t changed much; my job, Richard, the problems, everything was still there. But now, add the Devil.

He came into my life to change it completely, and I let him. Space and time have no meaning for my love, not anymore. It is boundless, eternal. Just like us. Our love is a love that everyone wants, a love that is its own light.

The butterflies in my stomach still go euphoric every time I see him. I still blush with every stupidly cute compliment he makes. I still dream about him every night, even when he’s sleeping by my side. And I still run into his arms every time he comes back home, every time something goes wrong, every time I’m celebrating something; just all the times.

Even Thomas, the ‘I’m-cold-to-the-core’ guy, watched love bloom in his heart. I felt honored to know that’s thanks to me. I’m honored to know I make him go full into cheesy mode, even though he doesn’t like it because “he has a reputation to keep.” But the truth is, the Devil has a heart and he gave me a piece of it, as well as I gave him a piece of mine. And none of use regret it.

I smiled nostalgic remembering how it all started, when I said: “If I sold my soul to the Devil…”

I looked at the front door when I heard the sound of keys, and Thomas came in with a grin across his face.

“Are you thinking of selling your soul to me? Again?” he asked amused. “You never learn, duckling.”

I laughed and stood up. I almost run to welcome him. Who would have thought I would see him in a suit again? Well, he wanted to keep my life as normal as possible -as if having the Death to come over from time to time wasn’t weird-, so he kept his job at Richard’s company. How? He’s the Devil, no explanations needed.

He scrunched his nose as soon as he smelled the popcorn. He still doesn’t like sticky or colorful food. I laughed again.

“How was your day?” I asked.

“As usual. Dealing with Richard is still the hardest job I’ve ever had. And I run hell! Nothing should top that,” he complained. “But I bet you’ll make my day better,” he gave me a charming smile.

I smiled and grabbed his hand, guiding him to the couch where I made him take a seat. I sat on his lap and stroked the back of his head. With my free hand I slowly unhooked the first four buttons of his shirt.

“Can’t hold it?” he asked amused.

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “I’m just making you comfortable.”

“Oh, don’t try to play it cool, duckling. You love when I make the love to you,” he grinned.

And how can I not like it?

“You know what?” he said. “We should get down to business and create that antichrist I promised to my dear brother.”

I laughed. “Is that your way to say, ‘let’s have a baby’?” I asked.

“You got it,” he smiled, before pulling me in for a kiss.

It's his lips that make the light in the rest of the room get a little bit darker. It’s his lips that make the world stop spinning. Those kisses are my salvation and my torment. I live for them and I would die with the memory of them on my lips. I knew I would become addicted since the first kiss we shared.

But how was I supposed not to be obsessed with his lips, if wherever he touches, and wherever he goes, fire follows?

((i know it's short and i'm sorry, but i hope you enjoyed it so far!))