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Lust closed the door behind him, staring at the emptiness of his room. Well, the room itself wasn’t that empty— his bed was a king-sized one, with pink sheets and a golden headboard.
There was a big mirror on the ceiling, of course. Having sex was way more exciting when he could watch himself getting hammered against the mattress with a cock deep down his ass. A big chandelier beside it to set the perfect mood.
His wardrobe was filled with pricey clothes, from glamorous straight up filthy. Accessories, shoes, he had it all. His drawers had all kinds of fun lubes, some with flavour, some with glitter, and every sex toy in human's existence.
From chains, to dildos, to plugs. Lingerie, sex attachments, candles. Little souvenirs from people he had fucked here— hairties, socks, lipstick tubes, hotel perfume samples. He had everything.
Then why, he asked himself, did the room feel so empty?
He laid down in bed with a deep ache that made his vision spin. He looked at himself on the reflection of the ceiling, and thought about him.
Chastity. His opposite virtue, the one that should be disgusted by Lust's mere presence. The one who should burn when touching him. Lust never felt so powerless.
He had tried to corrupt him, to entice his angelic eyes. But Lust was the one who got charmed in the end.
Maybe it was all part of God’s mischievous plan, to have one of his virtues poison him with prayer.
Maybe Lust was just an idiot.
He closes his eyes, feeling his hands tingle. The realization that had been chasing him every day, from the time he got out of bed to when he fell asleep, the one that had him running terrified every waking moment, seemed to finally catch up.
He loved him.
Lust loved Chastity.
It wasn’t the heat-of-the-moment love, either. It was true love, which made it even scarier.
He realized, with a pinch of regret, fear and excitement all at once, that he’d do anything for Chastity. He’d change his way, resign his urges, respect the virtue's presence.
He allowed himself to search for forgiveness, anything that’d make him closer to the virtue.
A violent sensation erupted within his body— it was like an icy water bucket had been dunked on his scalding flesh. He gasped, eyes shooting open while his torso arched off the bed. Every tip of every finger burned as if dipped in fresh snow for too long.
His fuchsia eyes shone bright, and everything went white.
His ears rang, but it wasn’t the usual ringing inside his head. It sounded like distant, high-pitched singing. He didn’t know where it was coming from.
Lust opened his eyes, and found himself standing up in a limbo of pure white. He looked down at his clothes— a simple, white garment. No shoes, no accessories. His soft hair falling delicately over his eyes.
He opens and closes his hands, feeling his fingers move, trying to get a sense of himself again.
Then he drops to his knees as an excruciating pain explodes on his back.
He screams, nubs of wings tearing his skin, lashing out of him while ripping his clothes, crawling out of his body with full intent. He tried to breathe, his lungs convulsing in agony as fully fleshed wings spread wide open behind him, dripping holy blood, looking fresh and ugly and beautiful, like a newborn hatchling still covered in gunk.
He took a few ragged breaths, clutching his chest for dear life. He looks up, and sees a glowing halo hovering a pedestal.
Could this be it? He thinks. All he had to do was to want to be forgiven. To allow himself to repent. To feel again.
He stands up on wobbly feet, the weight of his wings pulling him back down at every step. He was cold, face smeared with tears and holy blood dripping down his back.
He reaches up for the halo, the singing inside his head grow deafening louder. “I repent,” he breathes, “I repent!”
He touches it, and everything goes black.
His eyes flutter open, and he squints at all the light around him.
It all had been a dream, a sick joke for him to admire and drown like Narcissus in a poisonous lake.
“We were waiting for you,” a voice said, and he frowned.
He was disoriented, trying to make sense at his blurry vision. He blinked a few times, only to see the prettiest blue eyes to ever exist.
He’d recognize those eyes anywhere.
“Chas?” He whispered, throat numb from all the screaming he had done earlier in the dream. “What're you doing in my room?”
Chastity chuckled, his beautiful smile capable of melting the pain he had endured to oblivion. He felt his cheeks flush.
“You’re not in your room,” he simply stated, and turned to the side so he could see all the virtues around him in a circle. “You did it.”
“What…” he mumbled, sitting up with a grunt. “What did I do?”
He glanced to all the virtues around him— he had met all of them at least once, but they hadn’t been too fond of him.
Which was fair enough, to be honest.
His eyes trailed down his body, a pretty pink dress hugging his torso.
“Usually the new ones come in simple white garments,” Chastity admitted, “but I thought I’d make a suggestion.”
“You know me well,” He smiled.
“I do.”
Chastity helped him to stand up, his wings were now soft and plumy like they should be. They touched the ground with ease, and he felt very light. Incredibly light. Like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, the guilt and regret away from his heart.
“I’m so proud of you,” Chastity said, and those words alone made his chest swell, eyes glistening from pure, sincere emotion.
“We welcome you, to the world of light,” Humility said, her eyes soft and full of life.
“Which virtue are you?” Chastity said.
He glanced around, then felt his own skin, searching for an answer within himself. When he looked at Chastity's eyes, however, the answer came immediately.
It was obvious.
“I’m… Love,” he said, the word resonating with all of them, a new power he had to yet learn about.
“Welcome, Love,” Chastity smiled.
Love giggled, holding out his hand.
And when they touched, there was no burning, no shock. It felt natural, like all things should be.
Because Love is patient and kind.
Love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude.
It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful. It does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth.
Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never ends.
As for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away.
Therefore, let all that you do be done in love.