Burning Passions [ Luciel x Ironic ]

[luciel]

He didn't know exactly how it happened, but one thing led to another and here he was, a simple human disguised under the name Damian Strand, supposedly 18 years old, preparing for a stupid night to do stupid things. He Googled a bunch of silly ideas in which he was sure to hate himself for in another lifetime but for now, it's time for this night. Sent her a gorgeous-fitting red dress? Check. Nude pumps to match it? Check. A shining necklace? Check again. Now all that's left is to send that stupid text message.

"Hey. We're celebrating your birthday today. Don't be late! The Palace, 8:00pm. I'll see your ridiculous girly look there tonight."

Of course, he never really means his teases. It's just how they are after being friends for years -- human years, at least. Tonight, Damian was going to confess. No, he won't tell her he's the one and only Samael summoned and bound by blood and soul by his best friend's father. It's not the first, definitely. This wasn't the first pact between a foolish human and him but this is, by far, the strangest. He was supposed to be a distant guardian. He was supposed to be an on-looker and watched over from afar, or perhaps during his free time, but here he was, preparing a date night for her.

A date night.

To confess his feelings.

His feelings. Demons aren't supposed to have feelings but perhaps disguising as a human for nearly a decade and spending nearly every single day with her changed all that, and now he was stumbling all over the place to give her a perfect night.

Damian checked his watch. 7:30 PM. Too fucking early, but it's okay. He needed time to calm himself down. Why are humans so stupid? Why are their neurons wired differently? You want a girl, go for it. Why does it have to be so hard to get things done? Sighing, Damian opted to stop pacing around the small secluded space in the restaurant which he reserved for their night. The red roses were prepped up on the table, his dress shirt was all neat and pressed. All there is to do is to wait for her arrival.

He texted her, "You better not be late or else I'm getting that necklace back!"

 

[luciel]

The soft lounge music played in a hushed tone and along with it came the seemingly distant chatters of the people. It was a Friday night, after all. Lots of those who belonged in the working force capped off the busy week with a few friends, good food, and sparkling drinks. Damian looked around and observed that he was the youngest 'person' in the hall and he was pretty sure the elder couple on his opposite side were talking trash about how the youth was wasting their parents' money by having dates in an expensive restaurant such as this. It didn't take long before the candle on their table flickered uncontrollably right before burning out, causing a slight panic between the two. Damian was gazing out the window in happened and smirked as the waiters and waitresses rushed to their aid. The commotion died down almost as quickly as it happened.

Damian's phone buzzed on the table and saw Navaeh's message. Of course she'd look ridiculous as ever. Perhaps even more so tonight. Ridiculous. A ridiculous face that launched a fucking demon's heart. Ridiculous. Ridiculously gorgeous. See, now this is why the fallen angels became fallen. It's because of women and their highly unnecessary charms.

Checking on his watch, he saw that it was already 7:50 PM. 10 more minutes to secure his heart in place before it leaps out of this fragile human's body. 10 more minutes before he'd see that ridiculous beauty again. 10 more minutes, the last 10 minutes, perhaps, of being just her best friend. How will this night end, though? Will she accept him? A huge part of him knows she will, because what reasons did she have to turn him down? Well, probably a lot, but he shook those thoughts away. The smaller part of him knows he could easily control her to get what he wants. Hell, if he'll have it his way, he would take her to his place and her clothes would be long gone even before they reach the front door. He had never seen her body. Not even a peek. Damian didn't feel the need to, and it takes away the fun. Tonight, he wondered, will she give in willingly?

Allowing himself to get lost in those petty thoughts made him forget about those last 10 minutes. The next thing he knew, it was already past 8:00pm and no gorgeous lady stepped inside to tease him about this stupid date. At first, Damian paid no attention to it. Navaeh's always late, a trait which he had gotten so painfully used to. He would expect her to be there at 8:30 PM, or perhaps even 9:00 PM, so he proceeded to order a glass of wine first.

The glass of wine eventually became one bottle, and one bottle led to two. People were already started stealing glances to look his way and at one point, he heard another group wondering if he got stood up. No, he didn't get stood up. She was just ridiculously late, as in 2 hours late. He had called her a dozen times but after the last call a few minutes again, her line can no longer be reached. For the first time in his entire human existence, Damian, or Samael, his real name, used his powers to track down her whereabouts.

And she was far, far away.

You could have told me. I would have followed you, damn it!

The following morning, it was all over the news. 5-star Michelin restaurant The Palace burns down due to "gas leak."

As Navaeh's father slept peacefully that night, Samael, in his true form, visited him in his dreams. He didn't linger long, didn't even take the time to visit Navaeh in hers. All he did was point his sword at him and in full rage, he said, "You have given me so much disrespect tonight. All I wanted to give your daughter was the best protection she could ever have. Me. I am no longer going to protect you and her. You have failed her just as you have failed your wife. I will wait for your soul in hell."

[. . .]

If it was the effects of Samael's wrath or just plain, pure karma, Richard wouldn't know. He swore to be the perfect father for Navaeh, to keep giving her a normal life while hiding in a secluded farm in Paris, but those nearly 10 years weren't good to him. His illegal trades and gamblings fell, lots of his contracts became null and void, the FBI were slowly but surely shutting down every drug and prostitution den he had all over the world, and even his legal businesses and groups of companies were going haywire. In the span of nearly a decade, he had lost more than he had earned and to make matters worse, the death threats did not stop.

Richard feared a lot for his only daughter's safety.

 

[Ironic]

Richard’s body was riddled with sweat as he jolted up from his slumber, images of Samael painted in his mind. “Shit…” He muttered to himself before clasping his head. Why didn’t he take the demon so seriously? Guilt poured into his soul, feeling trapped and unwilling to help his daughter, who was sleeping on the opposite side of the plane as him. Her tears were still on her face, dried up and crusty. A long and exhausting sigh left his somewhat parted lips before he slammed back down onto his pillow, fastening his lids shut and trying to forget everything that had happened tonight.

Has ten years really flown by? Navaeh stared out the window of her living room, wondering where the time had gone. A few days ago was her 28th birthday. After that night, when she had to leave everything behind, she lost a piece of herself back with Damian. Not a day went by where she wouldn’t think of him. Paris was a different style of life, and it took her a long time to adapt to it. Hell, she still found it hard to get by around here.

Richard, on the other hand, tried to hide his misfortune from his daughter. She could easily see that he wasn’t doing too well, despite living in a nice home with nice belongings. He grew more secretive, sometimes not coming home for a few nights at a time, alcohol staining his breath. Nothing was ever the same. Navaeh found it hard to keep her composure, occasionally finding herself in arguments with her father. It was impossible to run away from him, knowing that the rival mafia’s would try and abduct her. Plus, Richard wouldn’t allow his only daughter to run off like that.

The burning ball of orange gas in the sky simmered down towards the horizon, the colors of the clouds turning soft and pastel like cotton candy. She would close her eyes and imagine standing by the shoreline back at home, having her mother there, Damian, and her father. Nothing but happiness. No more mafia’s, drugs, none of that. That long-cherished dream inside of her heart burned down a long time ago, and there was no hope in retrieving it.

Navaeh didn’t notice how long she was staring at the sky until it turned black, stars twinkling in her eyes. Her hands grasped onto the necklace she wore for 10 year straight, rubbing her thumb over the indentations of the diamonds before getting up from her seat, heading towards her bedroom to turn in for the night.

Another lonely night by herself. No father around. Just Navaeh and her thoughts.

Inviting her bed was, drawing her in like a spell as she slipped the covers on top of her frame. She moved around for a moment, finding a comfortable position before allowing the mattress to swallow her. The clock read 9:13 PM the last time she checked before her eyes grew heavy and sleep succumbed her.

SLAM!

The downstairs door opened so violently that the entire house shook under its wrath. Speedily the confused girl jolted up, eyes searching around her blackened room only to hear bellowing from downstairs. The clock read 3:08 AM.

“Where’s our FUCKING MONEY?!” A male voice echoed through the walls. He sounded tall, muscular and in charge. His voice made Navaeh’s hair protrude upwards into handstands. Harshly she swallowed down the lump in her throat. “Daddy always ensured no one would step in our house…” She thought to herself, but alcohol could’ve caused him to be sloppy tonight.

“I told you I don’t have it!” The familiar tone of her father’s voice caused her heart to skip a beat. He was here, but he wasn’t alone. It sounded like four men in total were in the house. They weren’t alone.

“Listen here, you fucking liar. You told us you would have it today. Now, WHERE IS IT?!” The shattering sounds of a vase reverberated in her ears, knowing that it was getting messy downstairs. Harshly she clasped her ears shut before leaning her back against the wall, sliding down it miserably. Her knees would bury into her chest, arms folding over them to make sure she wouldn’t fall apart.

“Where’s that pretty little princess of yours? Maybe we can arrange something for the lack of money?” A different male voice pitched in and gave his two-cents. The rest of the group agreed, saying “Yes!”, and even, “Where is the little cunt?” Navaeh couldn’t breathe anymore. The sudden surreal shock flooded in her system, weaving in-and-out of a dream-like state. Was this even reality anymore? How could daddy let this happen?!

“You’re not going to lay a finger on my da – “ Richard’s words were cut short as it sounded like he was tossed like a pesky fly in their way. Harsh footsteps invaded her home, searching for their new prize. Her. Quickly she stood back on her feet, searching around the room for a place to hide, but one of the guys separated from his group and headed up the stairs. Straight. Towards. Her. Bedroom.

“Fuck.” She cursed under her breath, quickly eyeing the window ahead of her. Bolting faster than lightening she would run to the unclasp the locks of the window, using everything she had in her to pry it open. It wouldn’t budge. “Why won’t this fucking thing open!” She cried out, slamming her weight on the damned window. The door handle to her room shook before it was slammed open.

Lust was riddled in his eyes, immediately scanning the body of his fleeing prey. “I found her!” He bellowed out, loud enough for his group of men to hear him from all the way upstairs. Her pupils shrunk as her body shook, trembling in fear. He strode towards her direction, a sadistic smile splitting his lips apart. “Now now, don’t be shy.” He attempted to soften his words as he reached for her, where she aggressively moved away from him.

“Don’t touch me!” She clenched her teeth together as she spoke, eyeing him down, as if that would do anything to help her situation. The other three men made their way to her room, laughing as they saw her attempt to put up a front of courage.

“Just grab her, don’t even try to do this the easy way.” The gang leader stepped beside the man who found her, not even trying to hide his intentions. In one fell swoop he grabbed her pugnaciously, draping her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She wiggled around, flailing her fists and body around in protest, but the man that found her easily, and without regret, punched her in the face. Like a burnt-out lightbulb, she flicked off. Unconscious. Blood trickled down her nose, but that was the least of their concern.

Heading downstairs, Richard had enough time to regain his strength, and attempted to stop the fleeing group. “Give me back my daughter, you can’t take her away from me like that!” He begged, even going as far and sitting on his knees with hands folded like a peasant asking for food.

“Tch.” The man who was holding Neveah responded simply before kicking Richard in the face, sending him to crash on his back. And like that he was out cold. Like father like daughter.

“Ugh… my head…” Nevaeh winced as her consciousness began to flow again. Her head was drooped down, her chin almost touching her chest. The more aware she grew, the more she could feel her body again. Her hands were bounded together towards her back on a wooden chair, her legs also fastened by the ankles on the legs of the chair. Sweat coated her body, leaving her feeling sticky and disgusting. How long has she been asleep? Her eyes finally cracked open, and even though there was barley any light coming from the room she still had to squint her eyes to adjust to her surroundings.

“Good morning, Princess.” A familiar man stood In front of her, a large pearly-white smile inviting her in welcomingly. “I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here and why you’re, well, tied up.” The men in the background couldn’t contain their laughter, her eyes darting towards the group of men before returning her vision to the man. It was coming back to her now. She was abducted from her home.

“You shouldn’t play with our meal.” The one who caught her out said before flicking a dagger in the air, catching it by the base and not the tip. The ring leader shushed him before turning his head back onto her. “My my… I am sorry for what he had done to you. He ruined your pajamas…” He sympathetically stated before her hues glances down her blouse, noticing blood staining her clothing. Her heart began to pound in her tiny chest, wondering what all they’ve done to her already.

“Relax, it was from knocking you out.” He responded, reading her features and thoughts with her expression. “Let me help you clean that, dear.” He sincerely said, almost believable, until he ripped off her shirt with a swift flick of his wrist. Her eyes closed tightly, trying to contain her scream before opening her eyes again to see her laced black bra. “You’re a lot bustier than I had initially thought… We’re in for a treat.” He licked his lips before giving her right breast a tight squeeze.

“Don’t touch me!” She shouted, biting her lower lip hard enough to leave the striations of her teeth in its tracks. He didn’t listen to her and proceeded to motion over the standby male for his dagger. Shrugging, he tossed him the weapon of choice before he too grabbed it from the base. Using the sharpened blade, he would line it up perfectly towards the tiny strap in the middle of her cleavage. Grazing it upwards, the tiny piece of fabric gave away and allowed both of her breast to pop out form the confines of her bra.

“Damn, I haven’t been this excited in ages!” Another male excitedly stated before cracking his knuckles together, making his way towards his prize.

 

[luciel]

After that fateful night, Samael opted to stay away from human pacts and resumed his usual role: making temptations sweeter and giving more damned souls the power to sin even more. With the human race's extremely low capability to think rationally on most days, this wasn't a hard task to do. Once again, time held no meaning for him. He was back to his usual self, away from the petty emotions of a lowly race. Navaeh was just a distant memory of a time long gone.

Until that familiar call came.

Richard.

It was a desperate cry for help, one which he'd gladly ignore, but being bound by blood and soul didn't allow him to. He had already ignored too much pleas over the years and this one is no longer something he can ignore.

[. . .]

Richard was a lot thinner than how he was when the pact was made. His belly bloated disproportionately and dark circles deeply surrounded his eyes. The side of Samael's lips twitched into a smile but it disappeared right before anyone else can notice. He was glad Richard looked defeated. He was on the ground, knees down, begging at his feet, sobbing as if he wasn't one of the biggest deceptors the world has ever known. Hell, he even got to deceive a high-ranking demon such as him.

"Take me. Take me now," Richard murmured almost incoherently in between sobs.

"Suicides won't work, human." Samael spat. "I don't think I'll give you the easy way out. I want to watch you die a slow, painful death, before I give you to Lucifer." He felt Richard quiver slightly upon his words.

"You don't understand, Samael," He said. Samael only raised a brow.

"Oh? Do tell. What is it that I don't understand?"

"She's gone, and it's all my fault." At this point, one of the greatest criminals and wealthiest bastards this sinful world has ever known embraced a demon's ankle and kissed his feet.

"You're disgracing me. I am not Him for a sinner like you to kiss my feet but I'll admit, this is a little entertaining. I am, after all, your God."

"Samael, you're not listening to me. She's gone and it's all my fault!" Once more, his words drowned away in an uncontrollable sobbing.

Tilting his head to the side, Samael wondered, for a brief moment, who on earth could he be talking about. The realization made his entire being run cold. Samael kicked Richard away hard enough for him to hit the wall on the opposite side of the room. "What. Have you done."

Richard coughed out blood upon impact and after one last spit, he looked up and met the burning eyes of the demon. "Just take my soul and leave! You don't have much time!"

[. . .]

At the distance, he saw her. Nearly lifeless on the floor, blood flowing down from her feminine parts. Her shoulders, dotted with dark marks and red ones, rose and fell slowly but the familiar energy of her soul still lingered. Three men were just about to finish and it didn't take long for them to shake out their manly fluids on her. One stood at the far end of the corner, videotaping the entire... whatever it was. One approached her limp body, spread her legs, and was ready to go at it again.

That was when he appeared right in front of them with an appearance that's mostly demon and partially human.

"I am quite disappointed," he said, his voice deep, hallow, and unearthly, "that no one invited me to this feast. I would want to partake."

One could hear a pin drop from the sudden silence in the cabin. With his back turned from Navaeh, each step he took towards the men resulted to a step backwards from them.

"What the fuck are you?!" One said. The other quickly zipped his pants back up and bolted towards the door, but it slammed shut along with all the windows in the cabin.

"Tsk tsk," said Samael. "That's not a warm welcome. All I wanted was to have what you're having." I could have, long ago, and she could have had a much more pleasurable experience than this. He shook the thoughts away. "Now, since you've all had your fun, why don't I have mine?"

"Dude! Put that down!"

"I can't! I fucking can't!"

"Don't you dare pull that trigger you sonofabitch!"

One of the men had his gun aimed exactly at the gang leader yet his arm quivered so hard from attempting to put it down.

Bang.

"Sonofabitch! You're a monster!" Mr. Gun Man, now crying like a little girl, desperately tried to stop his own arm from aiming the gun at his own end.

Bang.

"Two down," Samael said. "Four to go. Who wants to go next?"


The last four ran around the small cabin like madmen, punching and knocking against every door and wall. Samael, without any interest, followed each one with his eyes. One scratched the wood so hard, his nails started to chip off and bleed. One took out a rosary - to hell with why he had one - and started praying. Samael killed him next. No fancy tricks, no anything, just a soft thud on the floor of a dead body falling down.

Three more.

He could make this entertaining for him and use them as his pawns for a killing freak show but the soft heaving of Navaeh behind him made him think twice. The girl has already gone through so much in one night, she need not see more. For the first time in a long, long time, he turned to her and covered her eyes with his claw-like hand. "Hush now."

Thud.
Thud.
Thud.

[. . .]

The small flat in New York is exactly how he, as Damian, lived in and left 10 years ago. He still used it as a place of sanctuary for years, especially on those times he felt blending in with the human race and seducing the women to satisfy his cravings yet despite the countless women he fucked with at this very room, all it reminds him of are the countless nights of studying and occasional horror movie marathons. Dusty and unkept for quite some time, Samael would have to make do with this unsuspecting location for the time-being. He dusted out the single bed he had and gently laid her there without daring to linger at her face and her features. All he can offer her at the moment was a cape which he used as a makeshift blanket to cover her naked, bruised, and used body. Somewhere deep inside him, he knew he should feel sorry. He should feel mad. He should feel guilt. But none of them lingered inside him as he touched her face. All he had was a hope he could erase the memories of the night, but that was a power he was never gifted to have.

Lost in his thoughts, Samael fell asleep on the opposite end without changing his form into something more familiar.

 

[Ironic]

Everything was a blur after Navaeh’s bra had been removed. Constrained to the chair, clearly powerless in this scenario, she was still clouted with full impact. Her head brutally twisted towards the opposite direction of the attack, blood dripping from the crack in her lip. More stains to add to her collection.

“I don’t know why, but sex and gore is flawless together.” The man in charge specified while his tongue flicked outwards to evenly coat his famished lips. Gripping the base of the dagger firmly he would use the tip of the blade to slide against her skin, piercing her flesh and causing lacerations that made her wail out in suffering. “Quiet, whore!” He demanded before using the base of his palm to crash against her forehead, triggering her head to snap backwards before being knocked out furthermore.

She wasn’t conscious, but her mind was racing in a dream-like state. Hands, long, spiny, creepy-crawly hands searched her body. Her hands that once were knotted up fell, gravity allowing the limbs to fall limp. Next, her legs were unfastened.

Ouch, my body… Why does it hurt? She asked herself, feeling the frosty temperature of the cement flooring underneath her flaccid frame.

Tugging, and lots of it, towards her lower abdominal region. A breeze… against my pelvis… but why? Even her speech was slurred in her head as she attempted to grasp onto what was happening in the real world. The pants and identical laced panties were selfishly removed from her, that’s where the breeze came from.

Hands, more of them. Not just one… two… no, not even three… more than four explored her body. “S-Stop…. Not there…. Please…. A-anything but there…” She succeeded in talking, but her voice was scratchy and hard to interpret. It didn’t matter if she had anything to say, because someone standing beside her punched her in the ribs, causing the wind to huff out of her.

Coughing, gasping. But the torture didn’t end there. WHACK! A third blunt impact to her face, this time towards her temple. Nothing but darkness clouded her vision.

What was that? My legs are spreading… But I can’t move anything. Legs… WHY WON’T YOU WORK?! Concentrating, using every muscle in her body to try and move, but she couldn’t. Why did her legs betray her in a time like this? WORK DAMNIT! I need you to…. No…. Something large was trying to push through inside of her, and it wouldn’t fit. It hurt, it hurt so bad she could feel the hotness of her tears stream down her cheeks.

But he wouldn’t give up, not without a fight. A quick buck of his hips and pure horror shook her body. Get it out! I don’t want this! I… She stopped thinking. Her mind went fuzzy. Was that a punch to her back? Head again? My hair hurts… I don’t remember putting it in a ponytail… It hurts, my head, my chest, my pelvis, my everything!

Hot liquid poured out of her, from everywhere it seems, and the scent of iron stained her nasal passages. Even on the tip of her tongue. It wouldn’t fade away.

Mumbling. And lots of it. Grunts, pants, cursing, and moans. Her body wouldn’t stop moving. The hand’s wouldn’t stop touching. The punches and blades wouldn’t stop. Her heart was slowing down, but it felt soothing, fuzzy almost. Despite her body growing colder, she felt… warm. Yeah… that’s it…. Warm…. The words repeated in her mind, uncaring to what was happening to her. This new feeling embraced her, but it wouldn’t last.

Wait, come back… She reached for the warmth that was slipping away, her hands, slowly starting from the tips, turned as cold as ice. It trailed up to her forearm, her chest, her throat, until it reached to her eyes, where they sluggishly started to jolt to realization. It wasn’t much, but they managed to ever so slightly open, just enough to see a blurry picture of what was going on.

No finger was laid on her for once in… what seemed like years. Someone… no… something large stepped in front of her. She couldn’t see its face, no matter how hard she attempted to fixate her irises on it. Too blurry…

Bloody screams, the kinds that haunted you in your nightmares after watching a good horror movie, pierced her eardrums. Agony, despair, pleading… It was an orchestra of emotions. That body, it turned around, and she wanted to see what it was, this image.

Claws. Long, thick, and strong claws closed her tired lids, accompanied with a soft ‘Shhh…’

Blank.

So warm… Navaeh hummed to herself as she shifted underneath the cape before scowling in discomfort. Like a rebooted computer it took her some time to open her tired eyelids. A few blinks before the image was clear.

Strange. I don’t remember this ceiling. She blinked to make sure she wasn’t dreaming, only to see the same white ceiling. Her body… It was hard to move. Pain perforated her small body, a distressed groan seeping out of her cracked lips.

Since she couldn’t move, her eyes skated around this new environment, only to catch sight of something oddly familiar. No, it couldn’t be a dream.

And like a bullet to the brain, an explosion of memories erupted inside of her confused mind. She was abducted, raped, and tortured. It was hard because she was essentially lifeless throughout the entire ordeal, but that… thing. It was there, and it brought her here to safety.

“Ah!!!!”

She screamed out loud, uncertain of what the hell this was before her. It looked like something from hell itself. Was it here to reciprocate what had happened to her? Did she die and end up in hell? She wanted to run away, but it only aggravated her tired body. It didn’t stop her from rolling off of the bed she was sleeping on, causing a hard THUNK as her body hit the floor. She scuffled away, turning her head repeatedly towards the door then back to the creature sent from hell.

 

[luciel]

A thud and a scream. A stupid, ridiculous thud and a scream. It always ended up like that. Years ago, Damian would sleep on the floor and he'd offer his bed for Navaeh, only to have her falling on him every. single. morning. Once again, the human body felt so stupid and helpless as a lighter girl's weight would cause sharp pangs on his chest. Now, he heard the soft thud again, and a scream, louder than ever before. He opened his eyes and there she was, looking like a lost puppy with his cape as the only piece of clothing covering her. He observed her, making a silly decision to bolt out of the door and glancing towards him as well, perhaps wondering what the hell he was.

"You'd really want to scurry away like that?" He said. With a look of disinterest painted on his face, Samael got up, motioned his arm upwards and along with it, the door opened. "Be my guest. But for your safety, I'd suggest you sit back down, compose yourself, and we'll see about your clothing. Wait here." Samael got up, his long figure towering over the fragile girl as he took big strides towards a closet. He opened it and there they were, some of his clothing from a time long gone -- clothing which, perhaps, the girl would remember. He picked out a black shirt with a pentagram design (silly-drawn, ineffective, shitty pentagram, in his opinion) and tossed it towards her. Silently, he also made his way to the bathroom and checked if the shower was operating just fine. Fortunately, it was. Though he failed to visit this place for months or so, he made sure to keep things as clean as possible for when the time he comes back, perhaps to screw another unsuspecting mortal. This time, he came back with her.

For a moment, Samael remained silent. His thoughts sped up a million miles per second, wondering if he should change to a figure she was more comfortable with, or to continue threatening her with his almost true self. He wondered if he should also tell her that she's alone now, her father gone for her to be saved. Her father, rotting in hell by now, had finally paid for his end of the pact and his betrayal, many years ago.

Sighing, Samael burned up a bluish hue which only lasted for a few seconds. His height shrinked down a bit, claw-like arms reverted back slightly, horns disappeared, until nothing was left but one person she'd need at this time of great despair.

It would be Damian by physique and looks, but his eyes held no emotion. He looked at her, but his gaze penetrated even beyond her soul.

"I'm hurt, Navaeh. Your scream wasn't a pleasant welcome."

Samael, as Damian, moved around the small flat as if she didn't exist. He went towards his desk, put out his smartphone and charged it back to life. Then, he dialed a few digits and spoke. "Yes, is this St. Michael's? (He nearly spat at the name) I would like to create a private appointment earlier today, or perhaps tomorrow. My sister, she..." he paused for effect and gave out a fake sniffing sound. "I don't know, I don't know how it happened, but she was raped. We need to get her treated."

A few more faking moments later, Damian ended the call and put his phone back down on the table. His cold tone was back. "I can't heal, so it's best to have the doctors look at you. No one will do anything stupid, I can assure you that, and none of them will remember you or me afterwards. If you need counseling, just let me know. I'm no expert on that shit, but we can get someone for you. Again, none of them will remember anything after your treatments."

Samael was a seducer, a destroyer, a fallen angel of death. It comes with perks including controlling the fragile and simple minds of people, but a destroyer need not have a power that builds. None of his abilities can help her now, but he was sure some skilled humans can. All he can do is to remove traces of it.

"Silly man, your father was," He said. It was insensitive, given the perile of last night, but Damian's anger got the best of him. For the first time, he looked at her and his eyes looked straight at her without breaking his gaze. "You all could have lived a beautiful life, enjoying the excessive wealth. Hell, he could do his job without anyone ever knowing. But what did he do?"

"He betrayed a demon like me."

 

[Ironic]

Shit! The words inaudible to anyone but herself as the beast shifted from his slumber. Why. In the. Hell. Did she. Must. SCREAM?! Idiot idiot idiot she downgraded herself as its eyes fluttered open.

He did have a point, and she had forgotten that she was undressed. Stating her nudity caused her to glimpse down before squealing, holding the cape closer to her quivering body that now seemed too small to cover herself. Why did he go throughout the time and suffering to rescue her if he was going to treat her so emotionlessly? Oh, right, because he was a SPAWN FROM HELL! Though, it still didn’t appease her request.

The silence was deafening, her ears ringing from the stillness of the air. Her hand was skeptical at accepting the clothing he had chosen for her, but the skepticism was soon replaced by embarrassment for her bare skin. Swiftly she placed it on her torso, the fabric swallowing her in its large size. The scent was familiar, but she couldn’t put her tongue on it. And the design was too, she supposed, as she peeked down at the pentagram before pinching the shirt to inspect it more carefully.

Startled by his transformation, she wanted to look away, but her eyes were glued onto his shapeshifting. That hair… those sincere hands that were once lethal… No… No!

“D-Damian?... Damian?!” Her hands cupped her gaping mouth, head shaking in disbelief. “You, hurt? Huh!” She huffed out a breath of air. Of course, she was surprised to see her long lost friend, the one she was supposed to meet at dinner. Ten. Years. Ago. But the shock of what she had just witnessed overcame every fiber in her body that wanted to get up and rush to his side. Still, her body twitched in yearning to give him an apologetic hug.

Carefully she listened to his phone call, and she wanted to protest, but her body ached when she tried to get up. Blood stained her skin, and it would be wise to get examined by a medical professional. Where does he go if he has a wound? She questioned herself, totally something she shouldn’t be thinking about. Navaeh was one for getting out of course with topics. Random ones to say the least.

”Silly man, your father was.”

Why did he say the word ‘was?’ Her father!

“Daddy? Where is he?!” In the face of her pain she managed to place her palms on the ground sturdily enough to almost stand on both feet. Almost. Landing back down on the floor, she grimaced before imploring him for answers. “Those guys, they did something with him! They knocked him out last I knew. They might have him!” She had to gasp for air as her mouth was running faster than the words could be sounded out.

“He’s out there! We have to get him!” She demanded, uncaring to her current condition. “Damn body, get up!” She growled as she desperately wobbled on her knees, gripping onto the nearest object to help her stand upwards. “Why are you looking at me like that? Come on! Stop fooling around now, I’ll ask questions later, but right now daddy needs us!” She wanted to cry, but no tears regenerated in her glossy eyes.

A deep, sharp pain struck her heart, and she knew the answer, her body did, but her mind hadn’t accepted the fact that he could be…

Dead.

She ignored his comments, even the part where he stated his role as a demon. It didn't matter. Daddy did. Damian was alright, she was... stable. But Daddy?

This wasn't the Damian she remembered. Cold. Still. Motionless. No warm smile, no warm hug. She missed the tight squeezes he gave her way back when. How long has he been a demon?

 

[luciel]

She lost her balance and fell back down on the floor, and all he could do was watch. She started sputtering out words, words which held no meaning to him, and none of her emotional cries tugged on his locked-away heartstrings. "Only ask questions you're ready for, Navaeh." He said. "It will be such an unfortunate thing, you know, to want something so bad and not be able to handle the outcome."

Lust filled his human body. Seeing her there, helpless with his shirt draped on her just about a few inches down her creamy white thighs, a familiar sensation of lust for his very own friend came back. At one point, he nearly lost his composure. In his mind he was already taking that one fabric off, but the events of last night made him remember what laid under it. She was kissed with marks that weren't his and the blood trailing down her leg was proof of it.

Bringing his hands up to his temples to massage the sensation away, Damian stood up and stomped away from the poor girl. From the drawer, he took a black leather wallet and some keys. The latter one he threw towards her. "Keep everything locked, stay away from everyone. If you leave, I'll know, so don't you even dare. Give me a while and while you're at it, rest."

Damian stormed out of the apartment without another word. His black car was still parked in his rented parking space and without even thinking twice, he sped out into the city.

[. . .]

About an hour and a half later, he came back with a bunch of bags at hand. He picked out a bunch of packed meals from the convenience store, some fresh fruits from the grocery, and some paper bags contained a week's worth of simple clothes for her. It's crazy how even after a decade, he still knows how to pick garments out for her. At one point, she loved dresses so he gave her lots of that, including a red one which was supposed to be gently slipped away and discarded on the floor before giving her a night of loving she'd definitely not forget.

Shaking his thoughts aside, Damian parked his car back on his space and unloaded the items. He carried the clothing and undergarments with one hand and the food with the other. Heading up to the fourth floor and on the last room at the corridor, it only took his mind to unlock the door of his flat. He left the paper bags on the table before proceeding to his study desk. By then, his smartphone was already fully charged.

"Hello, St. Michaels? Yeah, we'll be there today. Kindly have the doctor wait out for Damian Strand. Thank you." He then made another phone call to schedule a cleaning on his flat while they're away.

And with that, he glanced around the room for the girl. "These aren't poisoned, if that's what you're thinking. Eat up and fix yourself."

Somewhere in the bags was a red dress. It wasn't the one he had gotten before, but it was equally gorgeous and the next thing he knew is his credit card was being swiped for the purchase. An unnecessary piece of clothing, really, but it was there among everything else he had gotten.

 

[Ironic]

Dodging her questions and pleas. That wasn’t fair, especially with how hurt she was. Uncaring, not even batting an eye towards her tears. He was always good at coming up with phrases in the heat of the moment, rather it be an argument or something flirtatious.

“What in the hell is that supposed to mean, Damian?” Her brows raised as her eyes widened, hands curled up in fists. She held onto her hands so tightly that the knuckles turned white. “We have to go get him!”

Oh, so now he was ignoring her. “Hey, you, hello?” Her tone turned bitter and sour, one she seldom used on him before. Silence, nothing but the dangling of car keys resonating the room. “Please, Damian! Where’s father?!”

And just like that he left.

“Son of a bitch.” Her teeth nibbled at her lower lip before puffing it out. Don’t think about it. she hushed her worried thoughts, pinching the bridge of her nose between her eyes to soothe her apprehensive mind. Relax? Was he fucking with her? “Pft.”

He left the apartment to her, and whether it was foolish or not, she wanted to search around while the adrenaline allowed her to stand up if she held onto something for support. A petite black stool was within arm’s reach, and she would use it like a cane. The apartment was smaller than she realized, and it could use some dusting.

The first place she searched through was his closet. Unlatching the door, a whiff of his scent caressed her flares nostrils. Bittersweet, nostalgic, but nothing but a memory. She had so many questions to ask him, so much to say, but he wasn’t the same, and perhaps she wasn’t either.

Gently she brought a plaid shirt to her face before burrowing her face into it. Soft, warm, comforting. Everything the old Damian was. Navaeh sighed, mostly out of sorrow than boredom.

The bathroom was next to be inspected. Stepping inside of the small area, she would be met with a reflection of herself. A badly bruised, beaten, and bloody version of herself. Horror painted on her face, realizing the severity of her condition. The shower never looked more inviting, and quickly she turned the knobs, steam quickly rising towards the ceiling.

It wasn’t hot enough, the water, to burn away the phantom sensations she felt on her skin. All those hands touching her at once. Her hands scrubbed harshly at the bruises, but they wouldn’t fade. She wanted to fall apart, it felt like she was falling apart. Her arms embraced her body, rocking back and forth while whispering reassuring words to erase the memories of last night from her mind. The water was beginning to grow colder, and that was when she turned off the knobs and grabbed a nearby towel to dry herself off.

Bland the apartment was. No pictures, no art, not even a spike of his personality to showcase who lived within these doors. Even though he was an ass to her, she missed him.

But he is a demon. She reminded herself. If he was one while they knew each other why should that matter? It was ridiculous but she was quarreling with herself. He’s never been so heartless to me before… It wasn’t even my fault that I couldn’t see him…

When Damian walked back in, she would be sitting on the bed, towel still strapped against her body as her eyes seemed lifeless as they stared at the ceiling. Turning her head to see who walked in, Damian, she would return her gaze above. After he reached for his phone was when she realized she could’ve browsed through it to be a nosey bitch. Why didn’t she think of this while he was gone?

“I’m not hungry.” She calmly stated, though her stomach growled in protest. Navaeh remained silent for a second before sitting upwards.

“You know, you have a lot of explaining to do. How do you act as if I didn’t just see the biggest life-changer of my life? And my father? I have a feeling you know where he is, since you’re not too concerned for his safety.” She narrowed her eyes, trying to depict it within him before he could respond. It was useless. He was so hard to read, even harder than before.

“And why are you so cold to me? After not seeing you in 10 years I figured our reunion would be a little different.” The blood in her veins started to boil just thinking about his recent attitude towards her. “You know that leaving wasn’t my choice. Out of all the people in my life I thought you would understand the most!” Before realizing it she was shouting at him, her cheeks red in fury.

 

[luciel]

Countless words uttered in incoherent shouts flooded his ears, almost making him smile in such an uncalled for situation. He remembered the time when she started speaking in the same way, about how she could have gotten a higher score on some exam if only the teacher listened to her explanations about her essay. Likewise, she said the teacher had lots of explaining to do. Navaeh didn't change, not even a single bit. Her quirks were still there, the same quirks he once fell in love with.

"Your father's dead, I took his soul as a part of our pact." He met his eyes with hers. "I told you to not ask questions until you're ready for them but stubborn as you are, as always, you're scouring through uncharted territories I'm not exactly sure you're ready for." His eyes nearly burned out of annoyance but he sighed and for the first time since they met again, Damian softened up a bit. He stood up from his desk, took the BLT sandwich from the paper bag, and handed it over to her. "You're asking questions, I'm going to give you answers I'm sure none of it you'd believe." He walked over to his window, set the curtains aside, and gazed out at the urban scenery outside.

"20 years ago," he began, "A man named Richard sought the help of Satanists and black magic experts. Most of you people would think these individuals are phonies but some of them, like the guys your father contacted, are real. To put it simply, they gave him the right information to summon a dark entity in exchange of his soul after his death. He could live a good life, give you everything you ever wanted, hell, he could have everything he could ever want and the world won't bat an eye, but at the end of his good life, hell awaits."

He moved away from the curtain and resumed his spot on his desk, all the while ignoring her gaze yet he can feel its weight on him. "He summoned a demon called Samael. Google him, they got him accurately, at least." A soft chuckle escaped his lips before he cleared his throat and continued. "Samael had been in countless pacts since time immemorial and none of which held any meaning to him. It was just an assignment, once which he can do on his free time, but Richard, oh damned Richard, asked him to be his daughter's protector. Samael bound his soul and configured himself to be a human, one which he hadn't done in centuries for the other assignments only needed his guidance and, dare I say, divine intervention, but this one required him to be with the daughter."

Damian's body started to quiver and tears, to hell with fucking tears, threatened to escape but he managed to conceal them back inside. That's when he looked at her. "And that, my dear Navaeh," he said, "is how you suddenly had a guy best friend named Damian Strand. Samael's contract, my contract would have been finished after his death but I..." He choked away the pain. "...I can't leave you there."

Clearing his throat once more, he then glanced at his watch and without another word, he stood up and gently grabbed her wrist. The first contact nearly broke his facade and melted his hatred away but the pain of the past overpowered.

"For goodness' sake, Navaeh. Stop being stubborn and let's go. We have to get the doctors heal you and I promise, I'll answer everything else when you're okay."

That would be the friendliest attitude Damian could muster then. In the meantime, all he cared about was getting her to the hospital so, silently, he took her to his car and they sped off.

 

[Ironic]

Death wasn't a stranger when it came to making appearances. Her mother succumbed to it, regardless of how healthy she was. Murder. She would almost reenact the same fate that ceased her mothers existence, if it wasn't for Damian... or Samuel... ugh, all of these names are confusing. I don't even know what to call him anymore she fought with herself, hands gripping at her chestnut hair before her fingers sprawled out to entangle within it. Her skin grew pale in color, her appetite unexisting once the devastating news slammed into her like a speeding car.

Navaeh hadn't realized she had been holding her breath until a long awaited gulp of air was needed to quench her oxygen deprived lungs. "No, he's not gone!" She fought with him, but the glare in his eyes told her otherwise.

It was obvious he didn't have much time left, and she knew it herself. He was getting older, over drinking and possible over doing it with drugs. His old body couldn't take the heat anymore. But he took away her fathers life, all by forging his soul for a blissful life that he ended up not having. All to protect her?

It was Da... Samuels role as a demon. He's just doing what he's made to do, and her mortal mind couldn't wrap around that idea, not yet. In the midst of his explanation, out of everything he's told her, the only question she could ask, through sniffles and tears, was, "How old are you, then?"


Her mind churned, beginning to flow again once the shock simmered. She was surprised she was handling it better, but if it wasn't for the torture and pain she had already endured from last night she probably would've been a chaotic mess. Stupid old man, so foolish for a life when you'd be damned to hell for eternity. She shook her head. What truly grasped her attention was when he stated her father and his "contract" would've ceased the moment his final breath was taken, not having to protect her anymore...

Yet, he was still here.

"For as heartless as you've acted towards me it doesn't seem like you care all too much." She snorted out before using the back of her hand to wipe away the tears and mucous coating her emotional face. It was hard to come to terms with her mixed feelings, and she was sure that Samuel would understand this for right now. That's what Damian would've done.

She ignored the sandwich offer. How could she eat after devastating news? Whenever her gut retained it's appetite, she would eat again.

After resting for a while she hadn't realized how sore her muscles were until he pulled her upwards, heading towards the door after she placed new clothing on her that he had just purchased; some grey sweats and a comfortably fitted white t-shirt, her favorite clothing to wear while relaxing.

Luckily the red dress was unnoticed for the mean time. It would've broken her heart to see it right now.

---

Usually it took a while to be seen at the doctors, but whatever Samuel did, she was rushed into the back of the clinic in her own private examination room. The lights above were bright, causing her eyes to squint. The examining table was cold, and the thin paper underneath her felt uneasy, cranking with each small movement.

Knock.

"Coming in." A female voice sounded through the opposite side of the door before walking in. Thank goodness it was a female doctor inspecting her. She didn't want another male to skim through her body. The name tag read "Dr. Shaw", the woman appeared to be around her late 40's. Dr. Shaw met her eyes before quickly scanning her face to see the bruises and cuts.

"I had no idea she was this beaten!" Her monotone voice finally had some emotion to it. "I'm going to have to remove your clothing and inspect you carefully, do you want your brother to leave the room?" She asked. Brother? Ah, that's right, he fibbed on the phone. It's funny, right now, that it reminded her of the prank calls he always made. They sent her sides splitting from how much she laughed. He was such a funny guy... so charmingly funny.

"I... I'd feel comfortable if it was just us." Navaeh admitted, giving Samuel an apologetic glance. He had to understand that this was a private thing for girls, especially after her body had been abused. She didn't want him to see anymore of her torn body.

Without hesitation, Dr. Shaw shoo'd him out of the room before closing the door. Knowing him, he'd still probably eavesdrop, which was fine, as long as he didn't watch the examination happen.

"I need you to take off your clothing." She sympathetically spoke, before seeing how difficult it was for her to remove her clothing, stepping in to help her. "Oh, my..." she gasped, seeing the marks of her fiasco painted on her body as if it were a canvas. "I know this is a personal question, but did they..." she eyed her pelvic area, but obviously she had been raped, of course they touched there... inserted things there. But what she was getting to was ejaculating. Slowly, Navaeh nodded, but she looked at the ground.

"First thing, we'll have to give you Plan B. It's a morning after pill. It'll reduce the chances of... unwanted pregnancy." She swiveled around before opening the cabinets above the sink, pulling out a plastic container filled with circular white pills. Grabbing a plastic cup she would fill it with water before hanging both to her. As if her life depended on it, no questions asked, she swallowed the pill, chugging the water to try and fade the bitter taste of the medicine. She tried not to think too much on the pregnancy scare.

Gloves snapped onto her hands before they softly placed themselves on her body. Luckily, her wounds wasn't deep enough to have stitches, and only required a jelly ointment for healing. Her bruises would fade away, and no broken bones. The blood that came from her nether regions were due to internal bleeding, but the wounds were already healing. It was cautioned to not partake in sexual activity for a while, but she did prescribe a steroid for inflammation of her wounds and pain medicine.

"I know you look worse, and you probably don't feel the prettiest either, but you're alive and fairly intact. With as many times as you've been beaten on your head, I don't notice anything associated to an concussion. You're alive and well, and you'll be just fine." She smiled without showing teeth before handing her a paper with her prescriptions listed on it. "Take this to the front desk and they will hand you your medicine. Your insurance covers it so don't worry about costs, just worry about healing."

Exiting the room she would meet Samuel... or Damian... whatever his name was, outside of it. "I'm alright, just need to get my medicine..." she managed to say, hoping he didn't hear too much on the opposite end, which he probably did.

 

[luciel]

The drive was a silent one yet the feeling, it felt a little more different this time. For the first time since last night, Samael felt genuine concern for her and, for the first time, he cursed his inability to heal. Why do the archeangels have all the good stuff? They've done nothing but sit on golden thrones and bask on the praises and worships people give them. Oh, right, the heavens weren't too kind on those who did the dirty work.

At the hospital, he respected the privacy she needed, up to the point where he didn't even eavesdrop on the conversation and diagnosis. Dr. Shaw had been under his control from the moment they entered but only as far as erasing every bit of their existence in her memory after the consultation. He wanted the middle-aged doctor to still treat her like usual, like any other rape victim seeking medical attention. He knew she'd be fine. Physically, at least. Mentally and psychologically? He wasn't so sure. The overall process took about 2 hours which he patiently waited out by simply scrolling through the very few social media he had: Instagram and Twitter. Facebook wasn't his thing.

When the door opened and she came out, he put his phone away in his pocket and gingerly took the prescription from her hand. "Out-patient?" He said. "Wow, I thought they'd hold us here for a day or two." Without another word, he went straight to the hospital's in-house pharmacy and took everything she needed -- most of which are Plan B pills she was required to take for a month. Pills or no pills, that wouldn't be a problem. Samael could instantly sense if an unwanted life started brewing up in her even before she could feel a thing, and he could painlessly take it away, too. Still, he opted for the human version and paid for all her medicines.

On the drive back, Samael thought she could use some... time off. Another silent drive led them both to Central Park. There, he led her to one of the park benches that would give them a perfect view of the cityscape adjacent the setting sun. They sat in silence for a little while yet it was also him who broke it.

"You're free now," He said. His gaze looked distant and far away, perhaps even centuries away. "You are not my contract, you never were, but you were..." He chuckled out a sad laugh mixed with defeat. For the first time, he tried to smile, but his lips only ever so slightly twitched and he looked defeated. "You were my weakness, Navaeh. And you could have looked wonderful that night. I could have given you the world, you know. But..." He paused. His words started to sound alien, and he didn't know where these emotions were coming from. Last time he checked, he knew these stupid things are already locked away. "...but my world was taken away."

Shaking his head a bit, he brushed off the feeling away. He then took the keys from his pocket and tossed it to her. "The flat's yours now," he said. "It had always been your second home. You can start anew, live a life, and still be who you want to be. It's not too late, Navaeh."

With that, he stood up and dared to give the top of her head a gentle kiss -- a kiss that nearly broke every fiber of his human self. Along with the setting sun, Samael, in the form of Damian, started walking away.

 

[Ironic]

"You didn't have to do that." She spoke when he paid for her medicine, but the payment was already done with before he could take it back. Dr. Shaw passed them as she talked to a nurse, and Navaeh gave her a thankful smile, only to have a shy grin sent her way. Right. She already forgotten about her. It's better off that way...

Damian was respectful, allowing her the space she needed to process everything in the car ride. Her father was dead, she didn't have a job, no place to go. Maybe I'll sell my soul too. I have no use for it anymore. She thought to herself, thankful that she could speak her mind inside of her head without worry for judgement.

They passed the street of the apartment, and instead, continued to drive. She didn't question his decision. The ride was nice. It was nice to be with him again, even if it meant that he was a demon in disguise. It was still Damian. Her Damian...

If only he realized she fell as hard for him as he did for her.

A park? Weird, and not what she had expected, but appreciated the chance to get some fresh air. He lead the way, and she followed. A nostalgic memory flooded the visions in her head. They had a few picnics before in the past, usually in a park such as this. They'd eat turkey sandwiches she would make and he would tell her of how good they were.

"It's only turkey and bread and mayonnaise and tomato..." Navaeh would argue, but he still loved the lunch meat that she put together for them.

Her memory faded, and he was still there. And as she was thinking about him staying close to her, the words pierced her heart.

You're free now."

Was he tossing her out into the open like a puppy in the process of getting abandoned? She was too shocked to respond, and usually she would retaliate, fight back. She wanted to hear what he had to say though. Keys flung her way, and she could tell he was broken. For the first time in ten years she could see his emotion.

"Damian, you act like I wanted to leave. You know..." she breathed in heavily, not wanting to erupt in tears. "You know, I wanted to be with you just as badly as you did." She admitted, her heart split open as her feelings poured into the cracks of his shattered heart.

But he was walking away.

Just like that puppy in the commercials. All alone. Lost. Wondering where it's owner was going.

"Damian!" She chased after him, and she couldn't believe she was running. Running towards the man she fell for all those years ago.

I can't let you slip out of my life again. Not now... not in a time like this...

Her arms coiled around his waist, her head burying into the middle of where his shoulder blades were. It was so nice to hold him, to smell him. He was so warm, so soft... as she remembered. Damn, she missed him so badly.

"I can't... not another loss... please..." she wept, trying to find the right words to say to make him stay. "Can I give you my soul? To be with you? I don't need the fancy things in life, I just need you. I don't want to be free, I... I don't know how to be."

 

[luciel]

The words. Her gentle yet broken confession seeped deep into his human heart tugging its strings ever so slightly, but Samael, the real Samael, intervened with the fragile emotions. Still, he stood there and listened to every word she said. Oh, how he wished he heard this 10 years ago. How he wish he could have had that silly dinner, did stupid things with her, and maybe, just maybe, they would have had a better life. Him, her, Richard... everyone. He would have gladly became a human for her while still being a devil to that bastard who only thought about his godforsaken money.

The warmth of her embrace enveloped every living cell in his body. Glancing down, he noticed some of the bruises on her forearm and the faded mark of what could have been tight ropes around her wrist. She no longer needed hell. She had gone through it, fought, and came back.

But a pact... it had to be done. Without it, Navaeh was just some mortal he shouldn't be associated it. Then again, if a pact is made, there would be no lights at the end of the tunnel. There wouldn't be angels singing upon her arrival. There would be nothing but the fires of flames and sorrows fit for a foolish soul who was damned enough to seal a demon's contract.

"You never were really free," Samael echoed. He made no move to turn or even return the kind gesture. "All your life, Navaeh, you needed so much protecting and none of it, not even I, could stop what happened."

At the distance, the horizon was slowly losing its bright colors. "Hell does not need an angel like you," He said. This time, he gingerly dropped her arms from his waist so that he can turn around to finally have a good look at her. She had marks all over her body, not all of them seen by the naked eye. He could still visualize the filth of those men all over her and just as the thoughts plauged his mind, the more conflicted he felt inside. She need him, but he... wasn't quite sure if he needed her. Somewhere inside him, he wanted her. He wanted to kiss that horrible night away and be there throughout her recovery but that would defy countless odds. Willingly giving herself up to a demon was almost as close as doing a pact and did he really dare to be that selfish?

Still, as his eyes looked deep into her tearstained own, he knew the afterlife wasn't a concern. She was in hell now, in her own hell in which she cannot escape. He lifted up his hand and used the back of it to trace down her face. She had aged, even more so in the past 24 hours. But, God, how dare he make such a beautiful creation and make them cross paths? He no longer spoke. Instead, he took her hand and led her back to the car. It was another silent drive. 10 years were enough to make him forget how to be human again, but being his guardian, he know the stock knowledge would kick back in soon enough.

[. . .]

The small flat was already cleaned and polished. Samael, still in Damian's form, proceeded to heat up the convenience store meals he got earlier that day. He didn't speak much, except for the occasional times he'd ask her if she was alright. His words barely held emotion in them but, hopefully, she'd see he was trying his best.

"I don't know your preference for clothes now," he began as he took out all pieces of clothing, including the undergarments which he didn't seem to mind. One red dress remained disregarded in its own paper bag which he placed inside his closet. "I just got some basics which you can use in the meantime. We can always go out and buy some more," he said. It was odd having to function with her around again, but the feeling... it wasn't so bad. In fact, he could get used to this once more. Damian moved from one corner of the flat to the other, trying to turn it back into a home with a woman in it, instead of a bachelor's pad of sorts where women would only stay for a night.

In the fridge, he unloaded the fresh fruits and a box of orange juice. He then prepared the heated sandwiches on the table along with the glass of water and two of her medicines -- a pain-killer and another Plan B. Mostly, Samael moved around without paying much attention to her but he gave her the liberty to do whatever she wanted. She could rest, eat, watch TV, or tease him with his struggles to get things done, for all he cared.

"Well, umm..." When nothing else was left to tinker with and all there was is to face the situation, Damian scratched the back of his head and tried to figure out another way to dodge any form of interaction. "I'm pretty sure you're tired, or even hungry, so uhh..." He shrugged and sheepishly pointed to the food on the table. It's funny how, just this morning, he added more to her misery. He didn't care about her emotions, her pains, and she seemed to be just a distant memory yet now she stood here, they were together again, and all he could do was to learn how to be more like Damian and less like Samael. With Navaeh, he no longer knew who the real him was.

Without another word, he disappeared inside the bathroom and drowned his thoughts away with a nice shower. It took him about half an hour before emerging from it, wearing a checkered boxer shorts and a white shirt. He resumed his spot on his desk and fiddled with his smartphone once more.

 

[Ironic]

Navaeh wondered what was going on through those searching hues as they stared into her own. Damian was always quiet when thinking, and it was noticeable when he was. He made it hard to read him, but she couldn’t doubt that he was thinking about her offer.

And with that, they went home. Together.

---

Now, she was the silent one.

Tucking her legs in towards her chest, her arms would wrap around her small legs as her cheeks rested on her kneecaps. Night time was beautiful in his tiny apartment as she gazed out the bay window she rested on. Lights flickered as cars sped by, the distant noise of the city in the background playing in her eardrums. She didn’t mean to jump when he started to speak, catching her off guard.

“That’s alright, I’m not too worried about clothes right now.” She spoke in a bland way, not really concerned about the style of her apparel. Was this how depression felt? She would question herself as she searched for the answer in the busy streets of New York. Here she was with him, what she wanted, and yet she wasn’t happy.

Damian’s sudden loss for words caused her head to tilt to the side in confusion, looking up at him and not understanding what his deal was. Where’s that confident, cocky composure he just wore not too long ago? Now would be her time to break the stubborn stillness.

Lifting herself up from the bay window she would walk past him and stride over towards the bed. “I’m not hungry. I’m not thirsty.” The ache in her throat and the rumbles in her stomach would have disagreed with her, but she didn’t want to even put anything in her mouth. “I’m just going to lay down. My body still isn’t feeling well.” Removing the covers, she allowed her body to snake onto the mattress before covering her chilled body.

“I don’t want to be rich in money, but I want to be rich in love. With you.” It was random and off topic, but it had been on her mind since they left the park. He didn’t allow her the chance to say it when they were there.

Progressively her cheeks grew hotter, grasping the words that were slipping from her tongue. The mortification wasn’t enough to conclude her words. “If that’s the only way to be with you… take it. I don’t want it. I don’t need it. This soul of mine.” She rushed the words out, knowing that she may regret it if given the chance to think about it.

 

[luciel]

Her words reached the Damian that once was, somewhere buried deep inside Samael. She was willing to make the pact all for the sake of love, the love he was once freely willing to give. He would, once more, but these emotions were, all of a sudden, new to him again. Silently, he watched her take her place on his bed and he would follow, but he only sat at its edge and looked at her as she spoke.

"You're tired and weary, Navaeh," he said. "Someday, we shall speak about this again. For now, do me a favor and heal. Live. When you wake up in the morning, I'll be here."

Averting her gaze, Damian looked at the small space of the slightly parted curtains. The moon shone somewhere far off. He had always been fascinated with the moon. It's lovely, how something which cannot bear light would, once in a while, make the night sky brighter than usual.

Maybe, he would try again. Maybe, he would be her little light in her dark, cruel hell on earth.

Smiling to himself, Damian lifted up his hand and produced a small fire gently floating up his palm. It flickered along with the air coming from the ac, giving his small unit a soft, dancing, orange hue.

"See this?" He said, scooting closer to her yet still maintaining a little bit of space. The fire continued burning. "I once felt a spark of human emotions towards this stubborn little girl. Spending years and years with her, the spark turned into a burning sensation I was afraid I'd lose control of." Along with his story, the fire on his palm grew and turned blue -- the purest and most fiery flame of all. "It burned all over me, a burning passion to just stay by her side. To watch her, to be her human for as long as her lifetime would allow." The soft glows accented parts of his face which would make her see that as he spoke, he looked right at her. "But just like that, the years it took to grow that fire, it was taken away in an instant." Damian closed his hand and in an instant, the blue flame went away.

Silence. He was silent for a moment but after a little while, he produced another small flame. It was so small, like the ones they would usually see lighting candles, it barely gave light to the dark room. "The fire is still here somewhere, Navaeh." He said. "I can feel its warmth deep down. Help me grow this again?" And with that, Damian lifted up his other hand and created small balls of fires that danced around in a circle right above them. He hoped, in a sense, that would help her relax.

 

[Ironic]

"Yeah, I know I'm tired, but that doesn't mean it's my excuse for the way that I'm feeling." She huffed out an aggravated breath of air, wanting him to see that she was true to her feelings and what she wanted. It took weeks, months, even years for unfortunate souls to sign a contract with a demon, but for her, a little over a day. She understood where he was coming from, and he wanted to protect her, but the afterlife didn't matter as long as her mortal life had Damian in it.

But what he did next wasn't what she had expected. The flames that he had emulate from the palm of his hand danced. They were decent sized flames, the diameter fitting his entire palm, but realistically they were small compared to the bomb fires they always had in the summer months... but that little ball of flame was hotter than those invigorating flames in the summer.

Those flames, now blue, shadowed the features of his Face that the light couldn't reach, his eyes glued on hers, and she couldn't look away from his gaze. But, this story did not have a happy ending, and she frowned at the result.

I caused that flame to sizzle...

Alas, there was hope despite the sudden suspense. Tiny it may be, but that flame that now existed in his hands had to have a spark to create a glow. "I want the spark to be as blue as the ocean." She responded. Navaeh wanted to get close to him, to scoot up besides him and rest her head onto his lap. She didn't understand her boundaries yet around him, and she accepted that him resting at the foot of her bed was good enough, let alone a good start to rekindle that flame.


"What other capabilities do you wield?" She couldn't help but ask as her eyes sparkled with the light of the twirling orbs. They looked like little suns. "You'll feel that warmth again someday, but I need to know how to get closer to you. It's... hard." Gently she rubbed her arms, trying to find a way to understand him more. A lot had changed, and ten years didn't seem long but some days it did. "I want to understand you better. I want to change everything that happened that night. I know, I know I can't, but if you put the effort in it too, we can figure it out together."

It was apparent that he was hurting, deep down at least. The exterior wasn't noticeable, but she had hopes he would become the Damian she once knew. Wait... she pondered for a second.

"Is it too much pressure to be someone you're not?" She was referring to his human form. "If you want to be yourself, I'll try to learn to accept it." She offered, and wasn't too sure how he would react with such a ridiculous proposal. "I want you to be comfortable, but I don't understand the demon ways of life besides the contracts." She explained, letting him know that she was trying to be thoughtful about him, not wanting to leave any surface unturned.



"I know it's going to be Rough for a while, but we'll learn. We'll manage." A positive aura radiated from her, and if he wasn't hopeful, she wanted to be that hope for
Him.

"If you want your bed tonight, I'll sleep somewhere else. It was rude of me to claim it without consent." Her heart raced. ".. unless you want to try and sleep together?" Whyyyyyy do I keep talking?! She hated herself sometimes. "I-I'm sorry." She instantly took the words back, wanting to hide under the covers in disgrace.

 

[luciel]

She scooted closer to him as he had kept his gaze on the dancing balls of flames. Freely, Navaeh made a bold move to rest her head upon his lap and her sudden warmth, her sudden sensation on him slowly brought back the feelings he once had. They were still deep down there, but something had already reached them. "I have lived more lifetimes than you could ever imagine," He said. " we can spend this one trying to figure out the flames, the oceans, and whatever it is that makes your kind unique." Not really paying too much attention to it, Damian slowly stroked the top of her head. He wanted to make sure the touches won't revive anything unnecessary in the light of recent events.

"I..." There was an itch in his throat and a deep desire to utter something completely taboo in his kind, yet she could use it, in whatever comfort it can give. "I am sorry about Ri-- your father," He told her. Damian stopped himself from saying more, worrying that he might end up saying things that are quite uncalled for in the situation. He looked at her as she spoke and even if she laid sideways and their eyes didn't meet, he continued stroking her hair gently and appreciated the positivity she was giving him.

Moving away from her, Damian scooted up to the end of the bed where his pillows were and patted the space right beside him. "Nothing has changed, Navaeh. You're still as stubborn as ever." He actually allowed himself to let out a soft laugh. At the other end of the room, his clock indicated it was already almost midnight. "In the coming days, I'll give you the answers you need. Right now, you don't need to know about Samael. Not yet. You need me, Damian, and..."

Just like that, the chains that bound the boy she once knew broke away. Damian didn't know how to be vulnerable anymore. He was, at one point, especially with her. He loved charming her, sometimes even doing it by intention so that she could fall in love with him, but those 10 years... he spent it carelessly. He spent it the way Samael would, not the way Damian Strand would. How many women had laid beside him in the same manner, in the same room? How many has he ended up fucking in this very same bed? Now, all he held was the only woman who mattered yet he couldn't bring out the right words and emotions for her.

In the end, he simply sighed and told her, "I need you, Navaeh."

As if some force enabled him to act on his impulse and emotions, he approached her and gently cupped her face with his human hands. He searched her bright orbs for anything, anything at all that would make him stop, that would make him revive his hate for what had happened, to make him stop falling any further, but all he saw was a beautiful girl; a beauty who was his destruction.

There are so many things left unsaid, things that were supposed to and could have faded away in time, yet Damian never fully realized it was still in him, locked away.

And she held the key.

Lips bruised on the sides greeted his sight but its full form overpowered his rationality. He wanted to taste her, even for a little. He lingered a little bit longer and hoped for her usual retaliation to happen, but in a snap, he couldn't help but lean down and touch her lips with his in a gentle manner. His hands fell from the side of her face down to her shoulders and along her sides, touching every curve of her woman body while making sure he won't be intrusive. He would kiss her a little bit more but as soon as he felt his hands playing with the hem of her sweatpants, he stopped and moved away.

He didn't apologize, he didn't speak. Instead, he let out a soft breath of relief and kissed her forehead before lying down on the bed facing the opposite side of her. Damian closed his eyes and willed the sensation away.

 

[Ironic]

If he had lived a lot of lifetimes, then does that mean he once fell in love with another girl too? The thought tiptoed up on her, instigating her stomach to ache from thinking about him loving another girl. It was a quick-tempered subject and she didn’t feel it was needed to question. It was her own insecurities, after all.

If only she knew how many women he slept with in this very bed she laid on.

Out of the time he had to apologies about the loss of her father, he chose to do it now? How was she supposed to reply to that? Nothing could be said in response, only a nod of her head to let him know that she was listening. Better late than never, at least, but it didn’t lessen the throbbing in her heart. She could fall asleep just by his gentle hands caressing her scalp. A soft exhale of approval before she sunk deeper into his lap, savoring this valuable moment.


“Is Samuel not as kind as Damian? Isn’t Damian… Samuel, though?” Navaeh’s stubborn title was rewarded for a reason. She had a hard time of letting information slip passed her, but tonight she would let up on the topics and get into it with him in the morning. She wanted him to drink in her words for the night and sleep on them, giving him enough time to give her an in-depth response. “I’m sorry… I think I’m just not understanding. I wish I could, believe me.” She sat up once he moved away from her, searching his face in a way she hasn’t in a long time.

Lips. Plump, red, lively lips pressed up against her own. They were soft, tender, and gentle. He didn’t apply much force at all into his kiss, testing the waters to see if she would give him an unapproving reaction. Her lips were slightly parted, drinking in his soul as he poured his love into her with that kiss. It may have not been his entire emotions that he felt for her in that kiss, but it was something… enough to get her by. Her sprawled fingers skated up to his shoulders, lightly grazing them before entangling her arms around the nape of his neck. She made sure that she wasn’t gripping him too hard, not wanting him to see her desperation in his protection.

His hands went unnoticed as they explored her feminine curves, the clothes on her body acting as a barrier. “Damian…” She whispered into his mouth, her lips searching his once more before he pushed her away. It was the right thing to do. She didn’t know what she wanted right now, and she shouldn’t be thinking about something so… intimate, especially after her encounter.

After he had laid in his rightful spot, back faced to her, those same fingers that once enveloped around him touched her puffy lips. He kissed these lips… She hummed to herself before tracing the places his lips reached on her own. She wasn’t sure if he was doing it for her own benefit or if he truly wanted to do it, but it made her night nevertheless. Lifting herself up from the bed she wordlessly walked over to the counter to take her medicine before laying back down in bed with him. She faced his back, her hands folded underneath her head as she searched for his thoughts in the back of his head. I want to know what’s going on in that crazy, chaotic mind of yours. She slurred to herself. Naveah wanted to reach out and intertwine her legs with his, coiling them up in a muddled mess of overlapping bodies. His body heat could be felt within the small distance that separated them, and she was so close to closing what space they had, but she stopped herself. Maybe another time when things are settled down.
Y
She closed her eyes and tuned out the world.

---

“Grab her. It’s my turn.” A dark, shadowy figure hovered over her body that laid on the ground. Her pupils dilated before whipping her head around to see the man coming from behind her, gripping her from underneath her arms.

“L-Let go of me!” She retaliated, contorting her body around in unusual movements to loosen the grip he had on her. Unsuspectingly, the shadow’s hands gripped her neck, ceasing her pleas of removal. A wicked smile played on its lips, its intentions written in the striations of its teeth.

“You’re never going to get away from this.” He spat at her, laughing as her cheeks turned blue. Navaeh’s vision was clouded with an arrangement of black speckles, growing fast enough to coat her entire eyes, but he let go of her gullet just before she lost perception.

“Stop! I don’t want to go through this again!” Her itchy voice cracked as she hollered in reprisal, tears flooding her tear ducts before the burning rivers flowed down her face.

She screamed and tossed her body around as the hallucinations overwhelmed her nightmares. It felt real, too real. Her heart was racing to the point It felt like it would burst from crushing pressure. Sweat glazed over her body, her hair knotted as her head whipped around to try and get the imaginary hands off from her neck, wrists, and legs. She could feel every punch, jab, thrust, in her dream as if it were reality. The torture grew more severe, blood and bruises marking her already fragile body. She wasn’t going to make it out this time, and she screamed so loud that it broke her from the spell of her night terror.

Rapidly she sat up like a stiff board, her terrified eyes searching the room to find the men that was just on top of her, taking advantage of her womanly features.

 

[luciel]

That night, Damian laid motionless for hours. He felt her scoot right against his back and the temptation was there to turn, to put his arms around her fragile figure, but his mind was still a mess of emotions at that very moment. As the clock ticked, he felt her falling into deep sleep. He then stood up from the bed, grabbed his pillow and pressed it gently against her before stepping a few steps away from the bed to transform into Samael. He thought alongside his physical transformation would be the one of his heart, but alas, in his demon form with eyes burning with rage, he looked at the sleeping girl and all he could feel was an uncertain peace.

For quite some time, Samael flew around the skies of New York and walked among the clueless individuals in the streets. In hidden corners, he would urge murders. Among crowds, he would ignite the drives of pickpocketers. Somewhere a few blocks down, an accident happened because of a drunk driver. In the distance, up above penthouse condo units, an unsuspecting middle-aged man fucks with a minor because she needed the money. Samael can do this, and so much more, just by the power of his mind. He can control others, but why the hell can't he control his own?

Landing on top of a building, Samael stood along the edges of the roof and watched the quiet world below. A few crimes would be on the news again tomorrow morning, but these crimes weren't new anymore. He could hear the Satanists pray to his master which made him scoff, but it was something he cannot avoid. No one would worship Samael and to his comrades Belial, Beelzebub, and many others who are just like their master, yet it was something they've all come to terms with.

At the farther distances lands and seas away, people were crying out to the devil. Many others, like Navaeh, uttered words like, "I'd sell my soul to the devil" without thinking about the consquences. A few miles away, some angsty teens played with an Ouija Board. Funny, because it was already 3:00am and he wanted to pay them a visit just to give them a little spook but just as he was about to appear to these dark lord fanatics, a nearer cry caught his attention.

Navaeh.

He sped away from the roof and teleported back in his unit to find her sitting up straight, her fear painted all over her face. She assured herself with a self-embrace and looked around and when she does this, she would see Samael in his full figure.

At nearly 8 feet tall, Samael was obviously much larger than Damian but just like his human self, Samael had dark hair crowning his head. At the back of it, two large horns protruded sharply. His skin was pale, almost deathly white, and had intricate marks all over his arms, chest, and the sides of his face. No irises dotted his eyes -- just two burning red orbs which, despite the lack of any indication, looked directly at her with utmost concern. Claw-like hands gently touched her fear-stricken face.

"D-don't... don't be frightened," he managed to say. "Those men, they're burning in hell now. I killed them. No one's going to come for you anymore." At his peripherals, Samael saw his claws and was instantly reminded that, at that very moment, it was him as Samael speaking so softly, comforting her with words he hoped would help.

"It's me, Navaeh." He told her. It took no more than two seconds for him to bring out the figure she had known and loved. Without even a second thought, he pulled her and locked her in her arms. "I'd kill anyone and everyone who's going to come take you away from me again."

 

[Ironic]

Tears obscured her vision, accompanied with her pupils not adjusting fast enough to the sudden darkness of the apartment room. Her breathing was dispersed, uneven patterns that induced a haunting burning sensation inside of her chest. “It was just a dream… a dream…” She was falling apart, her arms briskly gripping onto her upper torso to ensure that she stayed glued together.

I’m surprised Damian slept through that. Her head twisted around to gaze at the spot where he was slumbering, but he wasn’t there. Instead, a pillow took his place. He wasn’t even in the apartment at all. “Damian?” Her vocals rebounded off the enclosed room, only to announce that the four walls declared her insane.

Did he leave her here intentionally? Was that kiss… not enough to appease his appetite? The more the dismal thoughts penetrated, the more she doubted if she was good enough. Two robust feet planted themselves starkly on the floor just a few feet away from her, a bright red glow of light pouring into the apartment. With terror still imbued within her, she couldn’t look away from the demon that stepped foot inside of the room. Was this because I said I’d give hell my soul? She questioned herself, not once thinking it was Damien, as the lofty incubus treads her way.

Not a single muscle nudged in effort to rise and leave. He was so tall that her head had to tilt backwards to keep her eyes fastened onto his burning orbs. The lump in her throat grew heavier, compelling her to swallow forcefully. Navaeh felt herself recoiling to the touch of his thorny fingers, but what chilled her the most was when he spoke.

"D-don't... don't be frightened.”

Why was a hellish ghoul like him talking with such concern dripping from his tongue? But the fear seeped away, that prickly touch now turning soft and gentle, comforting even. She closed her eyes and engrossed the talon-like hand that was pressed against her sweltering cheeks. By the time she opened her lids she would see Damian taking place of the demon, Samael. The once clawed hands now normal human ones.

“I thought you left me.” She whined out, returning the embrace in a frantic demeanor. “What were you doing so late at night?” Concerned questions filled his ears. “I didn’t know where you went. I feared the worst.” She swallowed down the tears that wanted to brew inside of her glossy eyes.

“Samael didn’t scare me. He was kind to me, like you were.” She reassured him, her grip not lifting as she kept him within her grasp. “I don’t want you to have to hide yourself from me. I’ll understand, I’ll learn to cope, just give me time to heal…” Her face buried into the dip in his shoulder, her nails digging into his skin so severely that small crescents left their mark onto him.

“I need you.”

---

Time progressed, Navaeh healing with the help of Damian. She was extremely lucky and grateful that he managed to slip back into her life. Of course, it was under bad terms, but nonetheless he was still here by her side. He didn’t pressure her to do anything she wasn’t comfortable with, even when she could see the frustration in his irises occasionally. Most days she kept to herself, huddled as the post traumatic stresses haunted her relentlessly from that fateful night. The exterior shell was beginning to dissolve away, but at an alarmingly slow rate.

The night was not her friend anymore, the night terrors lingering inside of her head as soon as her eyes closed for the evening. She lost count of how many times she screamed and cried out in her sleep, feeling those invasive hands control her body. She was never weak before all of this had happened, but that occurrence broke her like a once feral stallion. Damian would be there to ease her racing mind, his eyes always ringed with circles from barley getting any sleep, or the stress of her misfortune wearing him down.

What is going through your complicated mind?

How she wished she didn’t have to be so troublesome to him. He didn’t have to tolerate her, but he did. She owed him everything she had, and still thought about giving her his soul in return. A foolish girl she was, unafraid of the consequences. When she felt up to it, she would search around Google for answers when it came to selling her soul. Damian never talked about it, despite how much she pleaded. He didn’t want her to suffer after her life had ended, whenever that would be. Hopefully not soon. Not yet. She needed more time with him.

From time-to-time she caught glimpses of Samael, the fear she first felt when seeing the unfamiliar face began to dwindle. She wanted to get used to seeing that face, even if it wasn’t the kindest demeanor she had seen from him. That was his true self, she would remind herself. It wasn’t fair that he had to lock himself away for her own benefit, and she recapped him about that.

The medicine helped too, and she grew stronger. The pregnancy scare was out of the question, her wounds healed, but the scars that pitter-pattered over her flesh were constant reminders of what she went through. I hope he doesn't look at me any less because I bare these scars. She feared for no rational reason. The connection between them, for her, increased incredibly, and she pondered about that tiny flame he had presented her with a while back ago.

How big is that flame now, Damian?

 

[luciel]

A year. Tomorrow night, it would already be a year since their very unfortunate reunion. A lot had happened within that span of time, including few times she'd see his true form or he'd wake her up in the middle of a nightmare. She'd convince him to keep Samael's actual appearance but he'd shrug her off, telling her he liked being Damian. More than anything, he liked being able to be seen with her. He liked being able to walk along her side, and maintain some sort of facade in front of the humans.

As days turned to months and the months turned to almost a year, Damian softened up to her a little more. Much as she protested, he loved coming home to her with small gifts like new sweats or hair clips and ties for her wavy hair. He had also accompanied her to a couple of check-ups she had and though her psychological scars still remained, Damian was determined to spend this lifetime healing every single one. Once in a while, he'd bring back the high school sweetheart she once had. He'd bring back the Damian of so many years ago, charming her with lame jokes she'd surely not laugh at, had it been from any other random guy. Sometimes, at night, he'd turn on a sappy romantic movie until she'd fall asleep or he'd continue entertaining her with the fire dances she admire so much.

[. . .]

That night, things would be different. Damian was determined he'd give this back to her, the night that was taken away from the both of them. Telling her he had important matters to attend to at work (which she never really knew about), Damian would be unable to pick her up from her final check-up. He was excited to hear about it, excited to know that she was already physically doing well. He could work on the horrors of the mind later on.

At around late in the afternoon, Damian called her through the smartphone he gave her. "Navaeh?" He said, as soon as she picked up. "I'm so sorry, I can't pick you up today. Something came up at work and uhh... just take an Uber back home, alright? Sorry, I have to go." He didn't wait for her respond anymore and with that, he sped off to the mall.

At home, a red dress awaits on the bed. On the floor, the nude pumps laid on top of the box. He also left a small note right beside the dress that says, "Roof top. 8pm. I wanna see your ridiculous face on time this time!"

Damian spent a few more hours roaming around the mall. He bought a new dress shirt for their special night, a simple white long-sleeved dress shirt paired up with a maroon bow tie to somehow match her dress. He also got her another necklace, this time choosing a flame-shaped pendant with a diamond on the middle. He smiled slightly as he observed the piece of jewelry. "Perfect," He muttered. "This is exactly what she needs."

"She's a lucky girl, sir," The saleslady said. The remark only earned a soft chuckle from him. "I just want her to be happy."

----

He was up at their building's roof top as early as 6:00pm. He met up with the saxophone and violin artist and istructed them what they were to play that night. Half an hour later, the catering service also arrived. He had a simple set up at the roof top consisting of a small table draped in a rose pink cloth and a candle at the middle. Their enteree for the night consisted of a high class grade 8 steak paired up with some mashed potatoes, buttered vegetables, and red wine. On his right hand, he held the red velvet box containing the necklace. On the other, he watched his smartphone count the minutes until 8pm.

7:55pm.

"Okay, let's start."

The music started playing as Damian waited just a few steps away from the door leading to the roof top. Dress shirt finely pressed, hair tucked back, necklace box held in place, everything was just how he wanted it to be. He took a deep breath.

"Now, we wait."

 

[Ironic]

It was strange, sitting inside the backseat of the Uber. It wasn’t like Damian to be so sudden with plans, and he caught her off guard. She didn’t mind, and appreciated his hard work. Most of the time she felt useless, unable to work until fully healed. The doctor told her during this visit that she was doing extremely well, and that she could start being more active to help her mindset. Navaeh couldn’t wait to tell him the good news.

Her fingers twiddled together as her orbs scanned the busy city streets. Funny how time flies yet you could picture something as if it happened moments ago. Damian was growing just as she was healing, becoming someone she knew once upon a time ago. She shook her head and laughed to herself, admiring the demon she fell so hard for. Deeply in thought she didn’t notice that the Uber had stopped at the edge of the sidewalk until the driver turned around and announced their arrival.

“Thank you very much.” She would hand him the owed total before stepping out of the vehicle, watching it depart before she met her gaze with the entrance of the apartments.

---

The approving sound of a click allowed the knob of the door to open as she stepped inside of the apartment. Setting her purse down on the counter, she would tuck in a stray hair behind her ear before walking through their home. At first she didn’t notice the dress laying on the bed as she opened up the fridge to see if there was anything to appease her appetite. With no luck, she closed the fridge door before pivoting the ball of her foot around to inspect the cabinets. That was when a hint of red grasped her attention in the distance.

Raising a confused brow, she pranced towards the bed to see the distant memory sitting right in front of her. It caused her to instantly raise her hands to cover her gaped mouth. Just like last time, her fingers sprawled out to skim over the silk fabric of the dress, admiring that he was the one to choose it for her. It wasn’t the original dress, but in her eyes it was still perfect.

On the floor placed neatly on top of the original box was her nude pumps. They were raunchy in appearance and she really enjoyed his sense of style. Hell, he should be a fashion stylist, he could pull it off; Just something to tease about with him later throughout the night. But what really made her smile was the tiny note left for only her eyes to see.

"Roof top. 8pm. I wanna see your ridiculous face on time this time!"

Damn, she loved him with everything she had inside of her.

It was 6:45pm, which left her more than enough time to juggle to get ready. A long, steamy shower to ensure that every inch of her skin was hair free, lathering her body in the scent of shae butter and coconuts. Her hand was as steady as a surgeons as she powdered on her makeup, giving the lid of her eye a winged flick with eyeliner to add to the feistiness of her dress. Those wavy locks of hair of hers was allowed to hang alongside her back, long spiral curls twisting them up neatly.

After adding some final touches of perfume onto her dress she would see that it was 7:56pm. Her heart tremored, her knees growing shaky as she couldn’t help but feel some sort of fear from the last time this had happened. No, it won’t happen again. She reassured herself before smoothing out the bottom of her dress and leaving the apartment before locking the door.

Waiting patiently for the elevator to drop down to her level she would enter inside and hit the button that led to the rooftop, watching the doors close before she was sucked up. The slow jazz of the elevator music rang in her ears, her mind racing as she saw the lights on top of the doors switch as it reached each level. She wanted it to go faster, but she also wanted it to take its time, too. So many conflicting emotions… It was exhausting.

Ding!

Tightly she shut her lids, breathing in deeply to prepare to see what he was up to for the evening. She knew he would be dressed up too. Just as ridiculous as her. My Damian… She smiled before looking upright as the doors finally opened. The rays of the almost setting sun poured into the elevator, obscuring her vision before the silhouette of a figure stepped in the way.

“Oh, Damian.” Her cheeks hurt by the way they curved upwards. She hasn’t smiled this bright in God knows how long. “You look so handsome.” She gasped out, not wanting to tear up from the joy of this night finally happening. The soft music dazzled in her ears as she searched where it was coming from. A live performance just for the two. “You really wanted tonight to be perfect, huh?” She walked closer to him, arms ready to wrap around him until the box he held up in her face stopped her. That’s right, this time she didn’t have a necklace fastened around her neck. She used to wear the first one he had given her, but she lost it during that fateful night. She wished he knew that she wore it for all that time. All those ten years.

Gently, almost too afraid to touch it, she opened the lid of the box to see the unique designed meant for her. “I couldn’t have picked out anything better. It’s… It’s so perfect.” Gingerly she picked up the neck lace before turning around to have her back face him, bringing the jewelry up her chest before wrapping the chain around the nape of her neck. “Why don’t you help me put it on?” She brushed the hair to lay over her shoulder so he could have a clear view to fasten the lock.

Taking his hand, they would both walk towards the circular table with a cute tablecloth draping over it, the scent of the vanilla candle staining her nostrils. She wanted to soak in everything, forcing it into her mind for years to come. The candle wasn’t the only thing she could smell as two expertly plated dishes of food rested in front of each seat. “How about we eat before our meals get cold and perhaps we’ll dance afterwards?”

The pair sat down and began to dig into their meal, the juices of the steak pooling underneath the meat as her knife dug into it. It was cooked to perfection; medium-well, just how she enjoyed it. The savory garlic potatoes exploded inside of her mouth, her taste buds unwilling to handle themselves. The red wine was semi dry and semi sweet, washing down the food that they had just consumed. It was nice, seeing him happy as his eyes twinkled with the reflection of the candle flame. That flame he showed her months ago… it couldn’t be this small anymore. She could feel the burning of it as he sat across from her.

“Shall we?” She extended her hand outwards to him as the wine gave herself a boost of confidence. Her hand gripped at the bottom of her dress, moving it away so she wouldn’t trip on it as she stood up to meet with him. She was certain he knew how to dance, but she wanted to touch his hands, to guide them towards the arch of her back as one held onto her free hand. That other hand of hers tenderly sat on top of his shoulder as their bodies swayed in the middle of the nigh. Slowly the romantic vibrations of the saxophone and violin carried them into dance, her eyes locked onto his as her heart jolted.

Her eyes closed, her head leaning towards his as she collided her lips passionately against his. His breath was sweet, the lingering taste of the wine entering inside of her mouth. She felt alive with each peck of his lips, her chest rubbing up against his own as she closed the space between them. She broke the kiss, breathing deeply before she grew the courage to say those simple three words that carried a grave impact with them.

“I love you…”