How to love a devil

edgy

"Colette. Colette!"

Sleepily I blink in Edgar's face. I'm still lying on the edge of the roof, but not on Edgar anymore, he's standing next to me.

"The gift shop is closing now; you have to come downstairs." he says to me again without emotion.

"Hm? But we still have to clean up and put back the shelves." I wonder.

"I'm done with that, I didn't want to wake you up, so I did it myself. But now I'm finished so I had to do it. Are you coming now or what?"

I get up without a word, we go downstairs and through the tidy shop. Everything is clean; the shelves are back where they belong, and the counter looks like a counter again.

Wow! Edgar really did everything on his own. To let me sleep.

My cheeks are glowing and I'm relieved when we go outside through the door, and I can lock it. It's pitch black outside now, the few streetlamps in Star Park glow dimly in the darkness and only the distant sounds of moving cars can be heard.

"Shall I take you home, looks uncomfortable tonight, especially for you." Edgar asks me with his usual lack of emotion.

Hey, does he think I'm weak? I may look like a flimsy doll in my dress, but I have my book with me and as long as I have it, I can kill anyone who tries to harm me!

Still, I accept Edgar's offer because, oddly enough, I like hanging out with him. So, the two of us go out of Star Park and into the darkness.

"Where do you actually live?" Edgar asks me.

"Outskirts of Block 23."

"Doesn't sound like much space."

"That's right, but I'm alone and I'm not at home much with school and the gift shop anyway."

"What about your parents?"

"I don't have parents anymore."

There's a brief silence after I say that, and I swallow internally myself. Whenever I must tell someone that, everything inside me tightens.

"I'm sorry. I did not know."

"It's okay, they died when I was very little. I hardly remember anything."

"Do you have other relatives you grew up with, or siblings?"

"No, and no siblings either. All I know is that my grandmother was a devil, but she was dead when I was born. I grew up in an orphanage until I could afford my own apartment thanks to this job. I guess I adopted myself ha-ha."

"You were in the orphanage too? I had not thought of that."

Edgar is looking at me now with an expression I'm used to from many people, it's the but-how-can-you-be-so-happy-look. To be honest, I can't really answer that question myself. Yes, my parents are dead, and I've been an orphan for as long as I can remember, but I have my own apartment, this incredible job at the gift shop, Hero Academy and Brawl Stars. So, I can count myself lucky.

But wait, what was that? Edgar was in the orphanage too?!

"Edgar, you were in the orphanage?! Did you get there because your father went to prison, and what about your mother, do you have any siblings?" I fire up.

And again, far too many questions! How do I always manage that?

"Yes, I was in the orphanage when I was little. My mother was a psycho. A freak with some rare disease. My father was a thief who went insane from alcohol and drug use until he drunk and took my mother's life in an argument. I was about 3 at the time when he went to prison for murder, which is why I ended up in the orphanage.

Yes, I have siblings, or something like that. A little half-sister, Bibi. Her father found out about me after three or four years and adopted me. I then lived with them for a few years until I had to move in with Byron to go to Hero Academy. That wasn't possible with Bibi's father. You know him for sure, his name is Bull and he's also a brawler. In any case, he also has dirt on his hands, commits minor shoplifting, riots, runs a biker gang and so on. He said it would be best for me if I moved to Byron because he could support me better on my way and stuff."

Incredible! A sad emo with a sad past.

I can feel a tear running down my face and hope it won't be seen in the dark. Edgar has been through far worse than I have and talks about it as if his story were a synopsis for a book launch. I know how hard it can be in the orphanage and I know all too well the feeling of a four- or five-year-old feeling lonely and unloved! It's unbelievable that Edgar can rattle off his life story so dryly and apathetically!

I gently take his hand and gently he presses my fingers into his. So, we walk the last streets to block 23. We stop in front of the illuminated entrance door and look at each other.

Shit!

I didn't think about wiping my tears away and apparently a few more trickled down because Edgar is examining my cheeks. Then he wipes the tears from my face like I did with him before.

"Thank you for accompanying me." I smile at him. Edgar pulls his scarf over his face and mumbles something that should probably mean "Good night".

"Good night" I call and wave after him.

Unbelievable! Edgar has never spoken to me for so long and so much. Even better, he told me something about himself and it somehow sounded as if he didn't just say it would entrust it to anyone.

Tired, I climb the steps to my apartment door and ask myself just one last question.

When Edgar held his scarf in front of his face and mumbled, did he blush, or was it just the light over the door?

But the light is white, isn't it?