I love you.
Those three words that came out of his mouth, were jouncing around in my head, showing no signs of coming to an end either. I didn't understand why I was stressing about it so much. They were three simple words that could be easily dismissed as jumbled up words released by the drunken mind. Yet, my brain just wouldn't let it go. Like the leaves on an evergreen tree, it clung to the possibility of it being true, and the question of whether I loved him or not. But I didn't! I couldn't. I was confused. My emotions were just a wreck. I was still swamped by all of the newfound feelings that I had mislead myself into this mess.
I grunted as I turned over onto my side, the sound of rustling emanating from my pocket. Damn it. I forgot about the note. I got up sluggishly and pressed my back against the plush headboard before taking out the crumpled piece of paper.
I reached for my phone that had been idling around with my notebook—for God knew how long—under my pillow. It was a brand new model that Ezekiel had given to me as a departing gift, though I hadn't used it until this moment. I glanced at the numbers written messily on the page before typing them into the dial pad. Should I call him? No, he could have been busy. I pressed the message button instead.
Lukie
Claude?
¹²·³⁵
Claude
LUKA how are you
feeling?
¹²·³⁵
Lukie
I'm alright, how
about you?
¹²·³⁶
Claude
im kinda hungover rn
my heads pounding
like crazy
¹²·³⁷
Lukie
How much did
you drink?
¹²·³⁸
Claude
oh alot like we stayed
til 2 it was crazy you
should have stayed
¹²·³⁸
Lukie
Yeah I wish but that'd
be irresponsible of me
¹²·³⁸
Claude
man your really different
from Dante and speakin
of him, is he good? heard
he got into some idk fight?
¹²·³⁹
Lukie
Oh...yeah he did. Some guy
tried to harrass me last night
so he took care of it
¹²·⁴⁰
Claude
for real? damn bro you ok?
¹²·⁴¹
Lukie
Yeah I'm alright. Anyway I'm
gonna go check on Dante
¹²·⁴¹
Claude
gotcha bro. he drank alot
last night. prob has a major hang
over
¹²·⁴¹
I tore the warm duvet away from my body before sliding off the bed, my legs instantly trembling because of the cold. God, did he never turn on the radiators? Whatever, it didn't matter, at least I wouldn't have to take a cold shower. I sauntered out of my room and into the sombre corridor, stopping just ahead of his door. I was hoping that he didn't bring up what happened last night, it would just make things awkward—well for me at least. I knocked on the hoary door, my body already itching to retreat back to my warm bed.
"Come in," Mammon yelled, his voice breaking slightly at the end. My hand hovered over the door hinge as I stared at my distorted reflection on the steel hinge. Should I go in? What if he did bring up what happened last night? What was I even doing—I was only going in to check up on him, nothing else. I pushed the cold hinge down timidly. Mammon was laying in his bed, the thin duvet on top of him outlining his body. His room was quite a mess; a stray white shirt draped over the side of his bed while all the other clothes were strewn across his floor. A corner of the shaggy rug was lifted, exposing the chipped wooden tile underneath.
"Be glad I'm letting you break rule number one."
I laughed as I dragged the black office chair closer to him, clutching the water bottle I took from his desk. My feet dangled above the silver rug as the chair was too high up.
"Here, drink this," I instructed as I handed him the bottle.
Mammon slouched against the headboard and pushed the nude duvet away from him, before removing the bright red cap. I glanced down at my lap as I felt a warm sensation spread over my cheeks. He was shirtless; just my luck. I was used to him being shirtless and I never really cared about it, so why had I cared now? I didn't know whether it was because of what he said yesterday but either way, it was a stupid reason.
"Why are you so red?" Mammon questioned as he pressed the back of his hand against my forehead. I squirmed at the touch of his hand as my nails dug into the crevice between the faux-leather and the handle. I really hoped he didn't catch on.
"Geez, you're burnin' up, 'sure you don't got a fever?"
I let out a sigh of relief as I placed my palm on my cheek, attempting to play off the fact that I was red because of him. "No I probably don't, doesn't matter anyways. How are you feeling?"
"Like shit. I have a fucking headache 'cause I drank too much."
"Wait, don't demons have high alcohol tolerances?"
Mammon's eyes widened just as his cheeks were taking on a red tint, "Yeah- but there's a limit to how much, okay."
I chuckled, watching as he stammered and scratched his nape awkwardly. I had noticed that everytime he was embarrassed, he would scratch the back of his neck—I found it sort of...cute. "Have you eaten yet?"
"Nah, I'll probably just get a cereal bar or something," Mammon replied dismissively, setting the half-empty bottle on the treen drawer adjacent to his bed.
"But that won't fill you up. Why don't I make you somet-" The grumbling of his stomach answered my question before I could even finish. We both looked down at his stomach before bursting into laughter, whilst his stomach continued rumbling—almost as though it was mad that we were laughing, and not feeding it.
"I'll take that as a yes," I said as I got up from the chair, the seat squeaking quietly as I did.
Mammon grinned at me sheepishly before shoving the duvet to the other side of the bed, further wrinkling the cream-coloured sheets—and exposing his muscular body even more. I hastily strutted out of the raven-haired's room, my main objective being to hide my florid face from him. God, if anyone ever saw me like this, it would be the end of me.
"You know how to cook?" he asked, each word he spoke accompanied by a footstep.
"Eh, sort of. I know the basics, what about you?"
"Nah, prefer baking."
Baking? That surprised me. Mammon hadn't seemed like the type to bake or cook—I would have thought that he lived off of instant noodles, or maybe other instant foods. "You don't seem like the type to bake."
"Hell is that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know. I thought you would have been like a gym freak that absolutely hates anything sugary," I said, my fingertips gliding across the granite countertop as Mammon plopped on the kitchen stool, taking out his phone.
"I'm offended. You're stereotyping me, just 'cause I go to the gym?"
I grinned at the screen-absorbing raven-haired, "It's payback for thinking I'd disintegrate because of a word."
"Coitus." He glimpsed at me, "Just checking."
I snickered before spinning around, my face timely turning red. I guess I still hadn't formed an immunity to that word. "Do you like savoury foods?"
"Eh, it's alright. I'd choose sweet over savoury any day though."
Wrinkles appeared between my brows. What the hell was I supposed to make him? He wasn't a huge fan of savory dishes, which were my specialty. Though, I knew how to make banana bread—thanks to Kallista—but that would take too long to make. I rummaged through the cupboard, my gaze shifting around the ingredients, hoping that something would come to mind. My eyes fixated on the yellow box with a mouth-watering image of pancakes. "You like pancakes?"
"Uh huh," the raven-haired answered, his eyes crinkling as his lips formed into a smile.
I propped myself on the counter as I reached for the rectangular box on the second shelf. I wasn't an enthusiast for boxed or canned foods; home-made dishes were always better in my opinion, but Mammon didn't have the proper ingredients for it. I pried open the large packet and poured it into the bowl cautiously. A set of grey eyes pierced holes into my back as I poured a cup of water. Well, this wasn't nerve-wracking at all.
I placed the steel skillet onto the cooktop before pressing the button. A set of beeps signalled that it was on. I stirred the batter in a circular motion, neglecting the footsteps that were coming closer to me.
My breath stopped midway in my throat as I felt two large hands rest on my hips. The raven-haired's hands. He pushed my hips towards the oven, squeezing himself through the developed gap. His body brushed against mine, resulting in my face becoming just as red if not redder than the bowl.
"Want some?" Mammon asked as he shook the clear bottle of orange juice, his free hand grasping the white fridge door.
"N-no, I'm alright." I adjusted my attention back to the pan as he ambled back to his seat, this time without going past me. I wanted to wither away, turn into dust particles; anything that would get me away from here. Why couldn't he have just gone that way, instead of pushing past me and doing this me!
I poured some of the batter into the skillet, watching as air bubbles began covering the surface of the pancake. My mind was a complete mess and I hated it. I hated how I wanted his hands back on my hips. I hated how I wanted his body to brush against mine once more. I hated him—or at least, I wanted to. And I made an effort to make myself think that I did, by chanting it over and over in my head till I had about four thick pancakes made. I stacked the them on top of each other on the plain white plate, the yellow rims aligned with eachother almost making it look like a cake. I smothered them in maple syrup; the amber-coloured syrup added a gentle sheen to the golden-brown surface. For something that was out of a box, I had to say that it looked pretty tasty, but I guess Mammon would be the judge of that.
My hands gripped the sides of the ceramic plate as I tottered closer to the raven-haired. His gaze shifted from his phone to the plate as soon as I set it down in front of him.
"You're not gonna' have some?" Mammon questioned, cutting into his syrupy pancakes.
"No, I'm not that hungry."
"Nonsense, c'mere." He leaped up from his seat and used his thumb to part my lips before pausing, like my eyes had transfixed him. We gazed at one another's eyes, a blush dancing over our cheeks, until he quickly brought the fork to my mouth. "Is it...uh good?"
The sweet taste of syrup slid across my tongue as I savored the fluffiness of the pancake.
"Of course it is." I licked the syrup off of my lips as he sat down, "I mean, I am the one who made it."
"Get off your high chair, all you did was mix and fry 'em."
I laughed. "Isn't it high horse?"
"High chair, high horse, same thing," Mammon answered, looking down at his phone as he chewed.
"Thank you...for saving me last night, I really appreciate it."
"Yeah." The raven-haired glimpsed at me, and I could feel the comatose bloodlust re-emerge. "The fucker didn' hurt you too much, did he?"
I shook my head softly, "No, he just made me feel uncomfortable."
"Thought you angels were capable of takin' care of yourself."
"We are, you just beat me to it!" I exclaimed, my voice tight, "and don't think that just because you saved me, that I'm not mad at you for bringing me there."
Mammon pushed the fork into the gilded pancakes, "Ah come on. Besides that touchy bastard, what was so shit?"
"Bri...flirting with me at the bar."
The raven-haired scoffed, "I'm not surprised, she flirts with everyone. You should have stuck with me instead of that blue-hair-havin' whore."
I screwed up my face at him. "You literally left me at the door, what the hell do you mean?"
"Fuck, yeah. Blame it on Nick and Claude, not me."
"Sure, sure."
"Don't act like you're so innocent. I still remember how agreed with them saying I was fucked in the head."
"I like how you're able to remember that, but nothing else."
The raven-haired looked up from his phone, "Anything in particular that you want me to remember?"
"Yeah! Like when you told them that I was nineteen," I retorted as he pressed the fork on his bottom lip. "Couldn't you have chosen an age that was a bit older?"
"It was off the top of my head, okay? I had to think of a whole fuckin' excuse on why you came to stay with me and plus, how old even are you?"
"Uh." I swiped my tongue along my front teeth, bracing myself for any remarks about me being ancient. In Heaven, the older you were, the greater you were; younger angels considered you a living legend and idolized you greatly, but humans would just think of you as a grandpa.
"I'm like...over a couple thousand years old. Honestly, I don't even know my own age, I got tired of counting."
Expectedly, Mammon's jaw dropped, "Fucking devil, Luka! You're ancient! You're like a fossil but- alive?"
"Tell me something I don't know Mammon. But how old are you?"
"Definitely younger than your ass-"
I rolled my eyes at him, which somehow managed to shut him.
"Okay I'm joking, damn. It's be'n eighteen years since I got here, so I'm twenty-five."
It was my turn to be shocked now. He was bizarrely young for an escapee demon. I would have thought them to be over a century, or at least close to it. "You're awfully young. Compared to me, you're a foetus."
"Ouch? Well, I'm not really twenty-five, it's my human age," the raven-haired restated, "just like you, I don' know my real age, but I'm over a hundred in Hell for sure."
His answer made me sort of pride myself on my semi-working intuition.
"Oh I see. What about your friends? You know...Claude and Nikolai? How old are they?"
Mammon pondered the question for quite a bit before finally answering, "Claude's like twenty- four or something, and Nick's like twenty."
"Oh, wow. They're rather young!" I hushed myself for a second as he continued to eat. Then, I remembered something. My fingers browsed my felted pockets before pulling out a silver cross necklace. It didn't mean much, but I needed to climb up a step on the conversion ladder.
"Hey, I got...something for you."
I only had a year.
"Its a...necklace." I extended my hand, light coming to wear the chain itself. I knew the albino said to take things at a slow clip, but I just couldn't.
The raven-haired's mien changed rapidly as he popped the remaining bit of the pancake in his mouth. "I don' want it. You should know I don't do shit like that."
My eyes went round, even though I had expected that reaction. "But I don't...understand why. You have a chance to...go to Heaven yet you don't take it?"
"And I'm not gonna' take it. Just drop it."
I was hurt, but I couldn't push it anymore. We seemed to be getting along with each other more these past few days, and I didn't want to ruin that—mainly because I would be the one repaying with my life if I had mismanaged.
"I have to go run some errands. I won't be back 'til night," he announced as he stood up, exasperation discernible in his tone.
"Alright. Be careful, Mammon...," I replied as he hefted the navy duffel bag before slinging it over his shoulder.
Mammon casted me a cold smile before heading for the door; a loud thump signalling his exit. It seemed like I always asked him the wrong thing—I had hoped to talk to him in a personal manner, only for his actions and demeanor to stomp on it like some uninvited bug. I let out a weary sigh as I reached for my phone in my back pocket before turning it on—just to be greeted by an abundance of messages from both Claude and a group chat. Curious, I pressed onto the group chat.
Claude
GUYS i was thinking that
we all go on a beach trip before
i go to Oslo
¹³·⁰⁷
Dante
Fuck no I'm not staying in
a car with you again
¹³·⁰⁸
Niko Kaiser
lol
¹³·⁰⁹
Claude
OH COME ON I swear it
won't be like last time ok
¹³·⁰⁹
Lukie
A trip sounds like
fun we should do
it
¹³·¹⁰
Claude
SEE YOUR COUSIN AGREES
¹³·¹¹
Dante
That's cuz my cousins a dumb
ass were not going
¹³·¹²
Sorra Kang
Dante stfu you don't have to
come but Luka can.
¹³·¹³
Dante
no
¹³·¹⁴
Lukie
Why not it sounds
like fun? But isn't it like
the middle of november? It's
gonna' be really cold
¹³·¹⁴
Dante
Exactly and that's why I
dont wanna fucking go
¹³·¹⁴
Niko Kaiser
dan stop the bs. We both
know you that practically
never wear a shirt outside but
now ur complaining?
¹³·¹⁵
Sorra Kang
Hypocrisy at its finest
¹³·¹⁶
Lukie
When are we going?
¹³·¹⁷
Claude
In five days so thursday
¹³·¹⁸
Niko Kaiser
im down but pls don't try and
kill us like last time
¹³·¹⁸
Lukie
what
¹³·¹⁹
Sorra Kang
Shit I cant go. promised to
hang out with nat on
Thursday
¹³·²⁰
Sorra Kang
PFFF HAHAHA GOOD LUCK
¹³·²⁰
Claude
Shut up coldsore we didnt want
you there anyways. Luka you
coming?
¹³·²¹
Dante
No he's not
¹³·²²
Lukie
Yeah I'll come
¹³·²²
Niko Kaiser
make sure u bring
swimming trunks
¹³·²³
Dante
NO
¹³·²⁴
I set the phone down onto the granite counter and stretched my arms, cringing at the cracks that ensued from it. Going on a trip didn't seem like such a bad idea. I could get to know the three even more and of course have a great time—though, it would probably take a lot of persuasion for Mammon to change his mind. I careened to the sink with the plate in hand before turning on the tap. I stared at the tepid water gushing onto the plate that was bedaubed with syrup.
A warm feeling swirled in the depths of my stomach. It felt nice. But what wasn't nice, was that it was because of Mammon. I could still feel the pressure of his hands on my hips. His touch was almost branded into my skin. I rubbed the area, as though I was telling it to rid the feeling. Why was I allowing myself to feel like this? Especially when I knew the feeling of disappointment would flood me later on. I shook my head as I began scrubbing the plate. I couldn't let myself waver; the only reason I was here was to convert him.
Not for love.
And, definitely not for him.