Chapter Text
Kris woke up with the first rays of sun, same as always. He didn’t bother brewing himself a cup of tea before grabbing his phone and shooting a message to Damon (he did learn the last few times he was here that most people didn’t appreciate being called early in the morning… or ever, really).
Only then did he turn on the radio and make himself a cup of black tea, moving his body along the rhythm of the songs on some oldies rock station, humming to those he recognized.
His phone pinged a few hours later, and he jumped on it in an instant.
Damon
“Well this was a nice one to wake up to! Sure, I’d love a walk down by the lake. Bojan hit me up too, would you mind him joining?”
Kris felt… annoyed. He wasn’t enraged often, despite this bodysuit with all its hormones and neurotransmitters allowing him to feel all the negative feelings he was completely void of up there.
But this demon, he was starting to get on his nerves with his meddling.
Still, it wouldn’t do him any good to say he did mind, because that would just mean the demon was more likely to get alone time with Damon, and that was far more dangerous than putting up with him for a few hours.
**
He made sure to arrive half an hour earlier — he didn’t want to risk the demon meeting up with Damon before him. The demon, however, seemingly had the same idea, because he was waiting right there, coffee in hand.
“Good morning, beautiful!”, he whistled, and Kris just mumbled back a dry:
“Morning.”
Bojan seemed almost worried.
“You don’t seem to be in a particularly good mood today. Are you ever, though? Jeez, I thought being an angel granted with a holy afterlife would make you a bit more chill, but apparently I was wrong”, he poked, and Kris gritted his teeth, audibly.
“It’s hard to be in a good mood when there’s a demon constantly up in your business”, he spewed, but Bojan seemed to not let it get to him. Not that he had the right to mind the truth, Kris thought.
He simply shrugged and said:
“Oh well, you better learn not to let it bother you, cause I’m not going anywhere until my work here is done.”
We’ll see about that, Kris thought, just as Damon appeared, his own coffee in hand.
“Good morning, boys! I see you’ve started having fun without me”, he greeted them both with a kiss, and with some vanity he wasn’t exactly proud of, Kris noticed it was him Damon had approached first and kissed for a little longer.
They started on their stroll and Kris almost froze in place when Bojan asked, so nonchalantly it was frightening:
“Hey Damon, I was wondering, how come I’ve never seen you with a drink yet?”
Kris turned to Damon, feeling so, so sorry for him having to think about it all on this fine May morning. He was about to jump in and say something, but Damon’s calmness surprised and reassured him.
“Oh, I’m a recovering alcoholic. Addict, really, but alcohol used to be my primary poison. So I do appreciate you both drinking your juices and coffees and teas this entire time and, if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep it that way.”
He didn’t seem bothered by the question, but Kris still took this opening to put his hand on Damon’s back and pull him in closer, and Bojan’s snickering look made him smile.
“How long have you been sober?”, he asked, making sure the conversation focused on Damon’s strengths, not his weaknesses.
“737 days now. And I’d say “who’s counting”, but I’m always counting, you know. It helps me stay on track.”
Kris shot him a reassuring smile, but the warm atmosphere was short-lived as the demon chimed in again.
“And… sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable, but I do want to know if I need to avoid doing or saying anything to get you on the wrong track…” he started, and Kris rolled his eyes.
As if.
“What made you go over the edge like that, lose control?”
Kris could feel Damon tensing under his hand, and it took him a while to answer.
“It’s simple, really. I was unhappy and unfulfilled and I didn’t know how to fill the void inside myself except by chasing short-lived, fake highs.”
Kris sympathised with him, genuinely. He knew that was how most people ended up in the throes of addiction: unhappy childhoods, neglecting parents, being left to fend for yourself and thinking you’re useless and unlovable… it must be a horrible way to live, so no wonder many seeked false happiness in drugs and alcohol.
He half expected the demon to chime in with another probing question, something even more likely to get Damon into a crisis over thinking about the past too much, but he kept quiet. His face looked sombre and almost sympathetic, and it made Kris pissed to see just how much he was faking his love and care for Damon, trying to pick up on his weaknesses and push him over the edge.
“I get that”, the demon eventually said, and despite Kris knowing he was constantly faking everything, he did have to commend him for actually sounding sincere on this one.
“So then, change of topic: what makes you happy nowadays?” Bojan asked instead, and Kris was shook to realise it would have been his next question, too.
“Well that’s easy enough”, Damon replied, seemingly more relaxed now. “My work, my friends, and simple things like walking by the lake with two pretty boys by my side. What else could I possibly ask for?”, he flirted, and both Kris and Bojan chuckled.
“But enough about me. What do you guys do? What are your passions?”, he asked, and Kris and Bojan immediately replied, not a second later, in unison:
“Music.”
They looked at one another, pleasantly surprised to learn they had the same hobby while here on Earth. Unless he was lying, as demons do, Kris made himself consider the possibility, so he was quick to check it.
“You, too? What do you listen to?”
He was half-expecting Bojan to name some modern artists Damon likely listened to, to get under his skin just a bit more, but the answer was quite surprising.
“The Beatles, mostly, though I do love Queen as well. I love their voices, their words, their harmonies... everything, really. In another life, I may have been a singer”, he finished, an aura of sadness suddenly in his eyes.
“Oh, you have to sing for me some time, darling!”, Damon chimed in, but Bojan didn’t really seem to be listening to him as he asked:
“And you? What do you listen to, honey ?”
The sudden, unexpected pet name sent shivers down Kris’ spine when it really shouldn’t have. It was just the demon annoying him, but it was almost as if he’s heard that voice, those words before…
He shook his head. A deja vu , nothing more.
“The Beatles are my favourite, too. And David Bowie, of course”, he replied, looking at the demon now, knowing he should be focusing on Damon instead but unable to tear his eyes away from that
Tortured, the word is tortured
Pretty face.
“Well you two are just a match made in heaven, aren’t you?” Damon jumped in, looking lovingly between the two.
“You know, if you’re ever up for it, I’d love to have you as models. Both of you, though I feel your aesthetics would differ quite a bit.”
Bojan seemed interested enough as he inquired:
“Oh? What would they be? Stick up the ass for Kris and angel wings for me?”, he asked with a sly smile.
Damon chuckled at that, and Kris hated that the demon was so smooth and funny and disgustingly charming when he wanted to be.
“Actually”, Damon said looking at Kris, “I feel like he’d be more of an angel. I see him with flowers and in colour. And you…” his voice turned slightly darker as he looked back at Bojan.
“You I see surrounded by fire. I don’t know why, I just… Feel like I can often see shadows dancing on your face, as if reflecting a burning flame you’re trying to extinguish, but can’t.”
Oh he’s good, Kris thought, but then he looked at Bojan to find that same troublesome expression from before, one that almost made him feel sorry for the demon.
Feeling sorry for a demon? Snap out of it, he schooled himself, shaking his head.
“I see how that would make sense” was all Bojan said. He shot them a smile soon enough, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, as he said:
“Maybe we should do it someday, why not.”
They spent the rest of the walk chatting about this and that, but Damon eventually bid them farewell as he had work to do, leaving them alone once again.
Kris contemplated just turning around and going home, but it was only 1pm and he didn’t really feel like it, if he was being honest.
“How do you listen to music?”, Bojan suddenly asked, and Kris was confused for a second.
“With… my ears? What, do you think we have antennas or something?” he asked, genuinely confused, and it was now the demon's turn to roll his eyes.
“Oh my god, you literal idiot. I meant do you collect records? Do you listen to cassette tapes?”
Oh, Kris thought, feeling himself blush at the lack of understanding.
“No, I… just find a good radio station and listen to it that way.”
Bojan seemed shocked at the prospect.
“Are you kidding me? Are you even trying to appear to be a 20 something old guy, grandpa?”, he asked teasingly, and Kris should have told him to go and fuck himself before turning on his heel and leaving, but for some reason unbeknownst to him, he stayed to hold his ground.
“And what’s wrong with that, exactly?”, he asked, staring at Bojan like the sheer passion of his anger might be enough to obliterate the creature.
“Well, nothing, if you’re 80 in human years. But nothing can ever beat the way records sound as if the band is right there in front of you, like you’re looking at them on stage, what with all the crackling and detailed, not overly produced sounds.”
Kris gave it a thought only to realise that
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a record being played while I’ve been down here.”
That made Bojan stop and open his mouth dramatically.
“Kris, honey” there it was again, that sense of having been here before, of having heard this before
“You have to come with me.”
He turned around and was on his way while Kris stood still, frowning in disbelief.
Eventually, Bojan realised he wasn’t following, so he sighed deep and came back to where Kris was standing.
“Dude, we’re not vampires, okay? You don’t need permission to cross my threshold, and you’re an angel already, aren’t you? What do you think is gonna happen if you come to my fake home and listen to some Beatles, I’m gonna turn you to the dark side somehow?”
And Kris knew it was ridiculous, of course he did; he also knew being alone for the next six hours until the sun has set and he was called back up was more ridiculous than sharing that time with a demon (not that there were any rules about it, either, mind you), so what was holding him back?
Whatever it was, he decided not to give it much thought as he said:
“Okay, demon. Lead the way.”
**
“Coffee?”
Bojan’s home looked antique, but not in the way he kept old things around and didn’t bother fixing them up. In fact, it all seemed recently refurbished and neatly taken care of. He was sitting in the small living room looking at the kitchen counter, where Bojan was already about to make himself a coffee.
“Tea, please. And how many coffees a day do you drink?”, he asked, remembering a big cup he saw him with yesterday.
“Tea… of course you’d take tea, old man. Would you like me to fetch you some morning paper too, milord?”, he asked teasingly before turning to put the kettle on, and Kris simply rolled his eyes.
“Mighty, coming from someone whose house looks like he’s living in the ‘20s… 19 20s.”
Bojan actually chuckled at that, and it made Kris’ human heart beat a little bit faster. Stupid, really.
“Touche. Okay, tea it is, then. And to answer your question, sometimes three, sometimes five. I love coffee, proper black coffee. You know, like my soul”, he concluded, winking, and there it was again, Kris’ heart skipping a beat.
God, he hated the way demons were always charming.
“I’d say that much caffeine isn’t good for you but, you know, not like it will kill you or anything. Not anymore, at least. Who knows, if you did that in your past life, too, maybe it did.”
Bojan came around carrying tea, milk, and his own coffee, sitting down next to Kris, and he seemed genuinely interested when he asked:
“Do you remember it, at all? Your past life?”
Kris shrugged.
“Not really. I get some bits and pieces… a deja vu of sorts, like you said yesterday. But definitely not enough to get anything coherent from it. Sometimes I dream of it but when I wake up I can barely remember it.”
This seemed to spark Bojan’s interest.
“You dream? Up there?”
“Sometimes. I don’t have to sleep or dream, but sometimes I do drift off. I can’t control what I dream of, though, but it’s never unpleasant.
Don’t you? Dream?” he asked, finding himself interested in the demon’s after hours, too.
Bojan swallowed, and suddenly there was a frown on that tortured face.
“Not really.”
Kris waited to hear more, but figured Bojan wasn’t going to share, not with the way he was looking.
“So, did you just invite me here to question me or are we gonna listen to some music, too?”, Kris asked, the tension in the room suddenly palpable. Bojan seemed to be grateful for the change in topic because he jumped up, looking through his records, and Kris found himself getting up to take a closer look. Bojan didn’t seem to hear him, because once the record was on and he turned around, he seemed surprised to be standing face to face with Kris.
“Oh… well hi there ”, he said, his handsome face back to its usual charm.
Kris wasn’t sure why he couldn’t speak or move, not even so much as to roll his eyes.
Bojan stood still for a while, too, as the record played behind them.
“Oh, right, you’ve never seen records before, correct?”, he eventually said, apparently trying to find a way out of the weird situation.
Kris shook his head.
“Not really, no.”
“Well then, look away”, Bojan said, moving so Kris could take a look at the records and the gramophone playing Lucy in the Sky.
Kris wasn’t sure where the hours went; all he knew was that by the time they were done talking about their favourite music and listening to endless records, they were both about to be called up.
Kris was calm and waiting, as he always was; after all, he was about to be floating in endless joy and peace.
Bojan seemed fidgety, and not for the first time, Kris wanted to ask what it was that he’d be going up to. But before he could figure out how to do that, Bojan just said:
“Thank you, Kris. For making my day fun.”
Incredulously, Kris just wanted to hug him and tell him it was going to be fine, and they’ll see each other tomorrow, come what may.
Then he thought better of it and just nodded.
“You’re welcome.”
**
That night, he dreamt again, bits and pieces of his old life, he assumed. When he woke up in his bed, he looked at his fingers with joy, pride, and a sense of missing.
He could have sworn he was holding a guitar just a second before.