holy

viii

24 hours later, and brett was in the worst state eddy had ever seen him.

most noticeably, he hadn't been awake much more than a few minutes to drink some water and mumble incoherently.

his temperature fluctuated every few hours, one moment he'd be shivering under layers of blankets, eddy sitting close to help give off warmth; and the next he'd be pushing the covers—and eddy—away, sweat shining on his increasingly pale skin.

with every passing minute, eddy was getting more and more scared. he tried not to show it, but it was hard.

he tried to busy himself with cleaning his apartment, but then every time he'd turn away from the couch his mind would panic, thinking that brett needed something or that he was getting sicker, and eddy wouldn't know about it.

the thought of brett dying made him feel emotions that he had never felt before, nor did he understand, and that scared him too.

he was scared of the consequences of the angel dying as well—being killed by the archangels or god had certainly never been on his bucket list—but somehow that fear had shrunken in comparison to other fears that eddy didn't quite consciously know about yet.

like the fear of losing brett.

he hadn't realized it yet, but eddy had become somewhat attached to the angel over the past few days. it was nice to have a friend (if you could even define their relationship like that), or at least company in the small apartment. before eddy had come down to earth, he'd complained of boredom and monotony, and brett had been able to get rid of just that. even though he constantly tested eddy's fragile temper, eddy thought it was worth it, just to have something new and exciting in his life. secretly, eddy was grateful for the angel that had made his way into his apartment, and more discreetly, into his heart.

watching brett sleep made eddy restless, but the last thing he wanted to do was leave brett alone. so he decided to preoccupy himself with cleaning up the mess that had been made after he had come home from the park.

it started with picking up broken glass and picture frames, making sure to sweep thoroughly so that leftover shards of glass wouldn't cut brett's feet if he were to get up and walk around again. he also gathered up the remainder of the feathers that were still scattered around the floor, a stark reminder of just how sick brett was.

eventually, he'd made it to the bathroom, flinching back when he opened the door. it smelled so strongly of honey and vanilla that eddy could hardly stand it, and he knew that the angel must have taken a shower while he was gone. but thankfully, it was already spotless, likely thanks to brett, so he shut the door and made his way back to the living room.

after cleaning the entire apartment from top to bottom to release his stress, eddy decided to practice.

he situated himself in a place where he could keep an eye on the angel, but still far enough away that he wouldn't be too loud for brett.

thaïs meditation was the first piece to come to mind. it was simple but beautiful, and quiet enough to play while brett rested.

practicing helped distract him from his worries and before he knew it, he'd been at for hours, fingers flying across the fingerboard absentmindedly.

he was nearly lost in the music when he heard a noise come from the living room. he put his violin down a bit too quickly, and rushed over to see brett coughing as he pulled the blankets back over his body.

but the shivering didn't let up, and neither did the coughing, and eddy didn't know what to do.

then the thought drifted back into his mind.

brett was dying.

eddy sat down on the other end of the couch, trying to keep brett company until the bout of coughing passed. when it did, nearly 5 minutes later, eddy moved to stand up but was stopped by the sound of brett's weak voice.

"eddy," brett croaked, looking in the demon's direction, "come back, i'm cold."

eddy froze for a moment. he really didn't want to get closer to the angel than he absolutely had to, but there was no was he could turn brett down, not when he was so sick.

so he sat back down on the edge of the couch silently.

with what little strength brett had left, he crawled over to eddy, dragging the blankets with him, and rested his head on eddy's lap, closing his eyes.

eddy wanted nothing more than to move away, and brett could tell.

"eddy?" brett asked, his voice small and unsure.

"yeah?" eddy answered awkwardly, not knowing what do to about the fact that there was an angel laying across his lap.

"i think i'm dying." his words were tainted with fear, and eddy's heart broke at the sound.

eddy could feel a painful weight in the pit of his stomach. brett was dying, and there was nothing he could do.

"will you stay with me?" brett pleaded.

eddy didn't answer and just swallowed the lump in his throat.

"i'm afraid to die alone."

after that heartbreaking confession, brett passed out, and eddy had the feeling that he wouldn't wake up again.

as eddy watched the shallow rise and fall of the angel's chest, something burned at the back of his eyes.

then they felt wet, wells of water building up and blurring his vision.

what was happening to him?

after a moment, a drop rolled down his cheek.

what was that?

it was followed by another one, and another, and soon eddy's cheeks were soaked in tears.

he was crying. he'd never done that before.

he wiped his cheeks furiously, angry at the fact that brett was going to die because of some stupid alcohol.

or was it?

eddy berated himself for killing the bartender in a fit of rage. if he were still alive, then eddy could find out what was really in that drink, and maybe brett wouldn't be so sick.

maybe eddy could have fixed him.

there was only one last option, and eddy dreaded it with every cell in his body.

he would have to go to heaven.