Horns and sirens echoed outside, the city full of life, drama, problems. Hating the fact that so many people out there were alive and laughing, enjoying the Friday night while Chay wasn't.
Oh hell... I thought I was done with tears...
Weary, swollen eyelids protested as his dark, tormented eyes filled with tears again. The salty crystalline droplets soaked into the pillow - one of the few things he had saved after Kichay's death was the pillow the little human used. The sweet scent had left the fabric long ago. Summer had left him, for eternity, banished just as Kichay was.
Curled up on his side, facing away from the door, Sajery buried his face in the soft blue satin, breathing deep as he sucked in air for the start of more weeping. Wailing.
I'm so scared...What if he denies me? What if he can't even face me?
So many thoughts swirled in his head, all of them throwing themselves at his heart, injecting it with poison - he couldn't let anything get in the way of his plan. Nothing, not even his own self doubts. It would work, it had to work, it had to...
He sat up suddenly, quick as lightning as his face became a glare so terrible, Haziel trembled under it.
Surely tearing apart the room and screaming utter madness would've terrified anyone of the thought to dare enter without permission...
"What do you want?" He was horribly defenseless, it was cruel to jump so much vulnerability.
Cringing badly, the hostile bite of the demon's words pierced deep. Behind thick blond bangs, Haziel set his chin and raised to his full height, "I-I wanted to see if you wanted some company.."
Oh fuck...
Cursing at his wavering voice, the angel didn't even acknowledge the fact that he swore, internally or not. The tray he held in his hands shook ever so slightly; Haziel eyed the demon and his set face of determination softened.
His eyes faded into a memory, without meaning to. So often, so frequently it happened. Forgetting what just occured, Sajery slipped into the bittersweet times.
I said that to him... First time we met... The rink, the skating rink. They turned it into a fucking punk skate park now...
Everything felt numb, the sirens he hated had faded away - a faint humming sound replaced all other noise. Kichay's voice he used to hear, was so quiet, two shades under a whisper. It mocked him, sometimes that sweet voice that called out his name, told him of love, laughed at him. Kichay was laughing at him.
"Am I going mad?"
Setting down the tray, Haziel felt tears come to his eyes; the utter desperation and despair in that question. A shaking hand rested upon the demon's shoulder, the crimson skin contrasted greatly to the pale porclein. No hand flew out to strike him, as it did sometimes. The pain Sajery radiated was so much, far too much. It made him feel dizzy almost. Such an unusual sensation... "I don't know...I don't know, my sweet." The affectionate term was like candy on his lips, pleasing and left a craving for more. Never had he felt this way, the need to give so much love, so much that it rivaled those in the skies. The banished angel slowly crawled onto the bed, and lay behind Sajery, curling his lithe body into the curve of the demon's. So cautious, so careful.
Not once did Sajery strike him this time.