Demon Turned Lover [BxB]

Clothes & foes

        "I think that colour will look good on you. Why do you want black?"

        "Black makes me look skinnier." She draped the pants over her forearm. "But if you think they look good, I'll buy 'em!"

        "You're already skinny enough, Sol," Luka said, dawdling by the racks. He spotted a cropped ruched top with long sleeves, and pointed at it. "That would go well with the jeans, you should get it."

         She pulled it off the metal rack, a faux frown on her face. "What other girl did you go shopping with?..."

         The brunet grinned. Kallista would always bring him when she went shopping, and from there, he learnt a thing or twain. "In Heaven."

         "God, I keep forgetting you're an angel." The woman picked out a black miniskirt and a small maroon halter top. "Is this too sinful?"

         "Sort of?..."

         "Which means Vick will like it..."

          A shudder overcame the angel before the music changed. "Repent..."

         "Hey! I'm just a daughter of Adam, trying to have an Abel and Cain."

         "Cain was a murderer!..."

         "Off to the makeup section!" she chirped, marching off and leaving Luka to stare at her hair-clad back in horror. After teaching her stories of the bible, this is how she repays him?

         Sol uprooted a brown eyebrow pencil, then a cylindrical purple mascara, and then a clear gloss. The brunet hastened behind her before they stopped in front of the lipsticks, adverts of various women about. "What shade do you think'll suit me? I can never pick a right one."

         Luka tilted his head as he scrutinised the numbered shades. The girl had pale olive skin, meaning a dusty red could work. "Try...one-three-three elegant red."

         "What would I do without you?...," she muttered, towing it out into her already tenanted hand. "Now, let's go get you some clothes!"

         His eyes went bigger than the silver highlighter palette. "Me? I already have clothes-"

        "You can never have too many, Luka."

        He with reluctance sauntered behind her across the beige floor. If Sol had chosen tops like that, what had she in store for Luka?

        "You need to look more...badass," the woman blurted, but the hangers screeched loudly in protest. She was picking one amongst the black graphic shirts. "People need to know that they shouldn't mess with you...and your shapeshifting rings."

          The brunet's blood boiled in his cheeks. "Not all thrones have shapeshifting wings..."

          "Wow, subtle flex." Sol slung the shirts over his shoulder before drifting to the tiered racks of jeans. "Baggy jeans would look good on you, even cargos."

          "They seem more of...Mammon's style."

          She grinned at him, bright white of her teeth radiating the dim store. "Even better. You can be matching!"

         "What size are you? Small, so maybe medium. Here!" Instead of suspending it from his shoulder like a pulley, the short woman handed it to him. "Go try it on. Let's go."

         They darted obliquely to the narrow hall, curving around the denim-clad mannequins in the middle and within the mixed changing rooms they went. She ushered Luka in the grey curtained cubicle, then left. He twisted, facing the mirrored walls, fingertips stroking the thin material. He pulled off his black jeans, and  slid on the newfound pair, fixing the papery sweater whose collar made a vertex on his chest. It didn't look bad at all. The brunet played with the pocket flaps near his knees, as Sol launched more shirts and sweater over the curtain.