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In the void, there was no day, no night, no ground to walk upon. There was no way of telling up from down, only great fields of light and shadow. Nida laid in his arms, her face buried in the crook of his neck, her long, dark hair splayed out over his shoulder and chest.
She was so quiet here, and that had frightened him for a while, as on Earth she was talkative, always fidgeting with something. At first, he would shake Nida awake, ask if she was well, if she was hurting or sad or bored or all the things he had expected to feel when sentenced to eternal oblivion. Instead, she just told him that she felt warm and peaceful, let him kiss the top of her head, and drifted back to sleep. Then his fears eased up, and he let himself rest.
It took Gaap a little while to realize that when Nida snuggled close to him, years passed. Even in Hell, time felt real, but here it slipped from him, centuries merging together like hours of sleep or dull workdays. Not that it mattered.
There were worse ways for a demon to spend eternity than lying in a bed of light, comfortable and warm, with a beautiful girl in his arms.
Sometimes, after a few decades, Nida would wake and ask if they could go and explore, see what was out there. He knew better, that it was only the same white sky, a few patches of darkness, some heat, some cold, nothing more. All he had seen of Earth was the north of England, but even from seeing one little town he knew that if Nida was expecting to find something similar to her home planet, she would not find it here. But, walking through the void was never dull with Nida. On those days, he would don that old fur coat and they would walk. She would open up, tell stories from her life before, groan at his jokes.
Gaap wasn’t too skilled at showing affection, it was a trick he’d never learned, but Nida made up for what he lacked, kissing him, tugging on his sleeves to try and coax him to dance.
At first, taking a human form felt like a punishment on top of his impossible task. For some reason, he had expected the image Nida desired to be an angelic being, or some sort of god, preferably more powerful than a fledgling demon like himself. Why would a human wish so deeply to see another human, when there was infinite beauty and strength in the world?
That was what Gaap had thought. It wasn’t purely a vanity thing, getting used to his appearance, though he was quite vain (it was one of the most desirable qualities in a demon, after all). He knew enough about humans to know that he was one of the prettier ones, what he wasn’t used to yet was the squishy skin, the lack of horns, how short and slow he was now. The fact that he would always be this way. It was a little overwhelming, especially here, where he could never change back to what used to be his true form. But, when Nida looked at him, she smiled. She smiled with her eyes, her face flushed, running her soft hand along his cheek.
Against the white glow of the sky, she looked absolutely stunning. Not like an angel, that was too cliché, and the angels would surely never approve of her sharp eyes and that badass red jacket she wore. Nida was too tough to be an angel, too soft to be a demon. She had to be one or the other, as he had felt her heart give out as the bombs hit, lifted her out of herself, held her hand as they walked into the light together. Little white lies were not a demon’s forte, but as the entire business of death seemed so distressing, Gaap never regretted his decision to tell Nida that he was allowed a living companion in his trip to the void rather than let her realize she had died and become Hell knows what.
Gaap had regrets, sure. He was a hellborn demon, a relative rarity among the evil, horned dead, destined for greatness. He was so young, barely as old as Nida when his supervisor sent him to make those sacrifices, he didn't understand the value of human life or what the apocalypse would even mean. He had to fake his fear of the bombs. If he had known even one human, even a dead demon, formerly human, he'd understand what was at stake. Not like he caused the bombs, or anything. That was the folly of the politicians. He just stood by and watched, as the world burned, as Nida died. It hurt a bit.
What a shitty demon he was, Gaap thought whenever he reminisced like this. Sentimental. He always shuddered at the word, thinking about the cuss-out his boss would give him for the way he was acting. He was a demon who deserved to be cast out of Hell. He was hardly a demon at all.
Hardly a demon at all. That part didn't sound too bad. Separated from any berating or punishment, it just felt accurate. Hell had felt fine, Earth had felt fine, the void felt, again, just fine. He wasn't too tied to places, or, as he was beginning to learn, how he looked, whether he was evil, good, or something else. Nida seemed to be the same, boundless, happy where she was, safe here with Gaap. She shifted a bit against his chest, laying an arm over his shoulder, sighing softly. He closed his eyes, content.
See you in a couple years, Nida. I'll be right here.