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Being a human in demon territory, you really should be more cautious when dealing with any substance that goes into or on your body: food, drink, make-up, lotions - even some fabrics are irritating for your relatively frail human skin. But being the human you actually are, a slip-up here and there is bound to happen, especially when your guard is down. And among the residents of Purgatory Hall, you always feel perfectly safe knowing two angels and another human are keeping an eye out for you.
So, when Luke offered you his freshly-baked cookies for your picnic with Beel, you didn’t think twice about grabbing the bag of frosted treats on the kitchen table. You didn’t even notice that there was another bag, sweetly wrapped and set out cutely on the kitchen counter with a note that read: Enjoy! Make sure to have one before Beelzebub eats them all! in Luke’s careful lettering. And of course, you didn’t even realize that you’d grabbed the wrong bag.
And when you and Beel had eaten your fried red spider sandwiches, washed down with a shared pitcher of demon-ade, the cookies were the logical next step - a delicious one, at that. Of course, your first hint that something was off should have been when Beel refused your offer of more cookies after the first dozen, which were devoured in minutes. Since when does the Avatar of Gluttony turn down food? Only… having eaten a couple yourself, you were already too far gone to note the demon’s odd behavior or to even begin to draw the necessary conclusion: these were no ordinary cookies.
“Beel?”
“Hm?”
The two of you are on your backs, side-by-side on the picnic blanket and staring up at the muted darkness of the Devildom sky that puts the time around mid-afternoon. Only, that’s weird, because it feels like you’ve been here for ages staring at the twilight twinkle of stars that glitter like someone has poked through the woolen fabric of the sky with dozens of tiny needles. Or at least, that’s what it feels like.
“Beel, what time is it?” You ask slowly, squinting at the sky. How long has it actually been? Minutes? Hours? Days? Centuries? Weirdly, anything seems possible at this moment.
Beel hums thoughtfully, breathing deeply as he gazes up at the sparkling celestial bodies as if to read their millenia-old secrets - and hoping one of them is the current time.
“Almost dinner time.” He says at last, trusting the familiar rumble of his stomach over the mysteries of the stars.
“Oh!” You sit up quickly, turning towards the demon, whose eyes are drawn by your sudden movement. “We should go back. You must be starving!” It’s a little strange that Beel himself hasn’t brought it up, you think, given the usual urgency with which he observes mealtimes.
Instead of the nod of acknowledgement you expect, Beel’s face breaks into a smile, and he lays his head back on his folded arms as he chuckles. “Not really.”
You blink at Beel a few time; you couldn’t have possibly heard him correctly. Not hungry? Beel? “What?”
“I’m not that hungry.” Beel shrugs, a smile still tugging at his lips.
“Not…” Suddenly, it seems like the best joke you’ve heard in your entire life. You flop back down on the blanket in a fit of giggles, one hand pressed to your stomach in a mimic of Beel’s typical gesture. “I never thought I’d hear that from you!” It’s so absurd that you can’t seem to stop the giggle fits from bubbling over. “Are… are you still Beel?”
Beel soaks in the sound of your mirth beside him and chuckles. “Still me? Yeah, I think so.” He says, lifting an arm up against the sky and letting it drop back beside you on the picnic blanket in demonstration.
“Well, I’m glad.” You let loose a few more giggles. “I don’t think I’d like an imposter Beel very much.” Your hand finds Beel’s on the picnic blanket on its own, fingers folding into his as you finally quiet your giggles as best you can.
“You wouldn’t?” Beel’s fingers fit more snugly into yours as he laughs. “What about this Beel?”
“This Beel’s my favorite!” You tell him honestly, nestling up against his side, drawn instinctively towards his physical and emotional warmth. You love it when he laughs.
You sigh contentedly as the two of you admire the stars, somehow hand-in-hand. Something feels a little different today, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. The sky above you feels bigger and Beel’s hand in yours feels lighter. Plus, you keep getting these weird impressions in place of thoughts - like you didn’t decide to hold Beel’s hand, you just sorta felt it, and then suddenly it was happening. It did happen, right? You glance down at where your hands are linked. Okay, yes, it did. But you weren’t even really thinking about it. Wouldn’t you usually be far too shy for such a move? Wouldn’t this usually make your heart beat a mile a minute?
“Beel, do you feel funny at all?” You ask the demon. “I mean, aside from not being hungry. Which actually is super weird…” You turn your face towards him to see the demon grinning.
Beel chuckles again. He actually has a very good explanation for why he might be a little less hungry than usual. He hasn’t felt this way in centuries, but he’s pretty sure he knows what this is. If he’s right, that just means he’ll pay for it later with a rather unpleasant case of the munchies - he’ll have to message Belphie and warn him. But for now, being with you like this isn’t so bad. It’s kinda nice, actually.
“I feel good.” Beel says, squeezing your hand.
“But… what is it?” You ask Beel, turning your body towards him. It seems there’s something Beel isn’t sharing with you. “Tell me!”
Beel turns onto his side to face you, meeting your eyes with his vividly violet ones. Your breath stops for a moment. Have they always been so beautiful? You can’t help but stare into the shining depths of them. Have they always been such a burning pink at the very edges? So deeply indigo in the center?
“I don’t think Luke made those cookies.” Beel says after what feels like an eternity, holding your stare unwaveringly as a warm breeze ruffles his bangs. “I think there was Devil’s Lettuce in them.”
You blink at Beel uncomprehendingly, still a little caught up in the way his eyes reflect the pinpricks of light that live somewhere above the two of you in the Devildom sky. “Devil’s Lettuce?” The words feel silly on your tongue, and you grin at Beel. “Wait, do you mean, like… weed?”
Beel grins back at you. “I don’t know if it’s exactly like what you have in the human world, but I think there are some similar side effects. And some different ones, too.”
Like his hunger quieting, Beel remembers now. And his nightmares fading, until it was like watching someone else’s dreams - from a distance, disconnected, the blood and the horror and the pain held at bay. In the days following the Celestial War, he and Belphie had both sought solace in the new places and experiences the Devildom had to offer. But it’s been so long since he’s even thought to revisit this particular experience that Beel’s surprised he recognizes it at all.
“Different effects?” You ask, trying to read the shifting expressions in Beel’s eyes. He feels suddenly far away, hours or days, and it’s almost scary. You swallow down a slight anxiety. “Different like what?”
Beel shrugs, keeping his memories about his earlier days in the Devildom to himself. They feel too close tonight, like there’s a bend in the timeline that’s suddenly brought him back to who he used to be. It’s not just tonight, though, Beel realizes. He’s been feeling like that a lot lately, ever since they had learned who you really are. You’ve brought the past back for them all in a way that Beel still isn't sure how to wrap his head around.
“It’s been a few centuries at least since I’ve eaten anything with Devil’s Lettuce in it, so I’m not sure.” Beel finally answers.
“Well, I feel pretty okay, I think!” You assure Beel, lifting one arm out in the same way he had to show him that you’re basically in as tip-top shape as you ever are in the Devildom. “I mean, I feel a little weird… like, I have no idea how long we’ve been here like this, but I think I’m okay.” You add, dropping your arm back at your side.
“Oh, that’s good.” Beel says, his expression slipping to something more serious. He had forgotten for a moment to consider that Devil’s Lettuce might not be entirely safe for humans. Maybe he’d had more cookies than he thought to let something as important as that slip his mind. “I didn’t think of what it might do to you as a human, sorry.”
“It’s okay, Beel.” You tell him, snuggling up to his side and resting your head in the crook of his shoulder. “It’s not like you made the cookies or anything. You didn’t know, either.”
Beel sits there quietly for a moment, assimilating the weight of your body into his own until it almost feels like the two of you are lying there as the same person. Your breath feels like his, your legs wrapping themselves around his own are like extensions of his own body. Once again, it’s like some part of him is returning to itself, some long-lost, forgotten pieces that are finding their way home again. Ah, Beel shakes his head slightly to clear away his cloud thoughts; he’s definitely had too many cookies. It’s still pretty nice to lay here under the sky, though, feeling full after a satisfying picnic with you by his side.
You keep the silence, vaguely feeling Beel’s pulse beating against you where your head is resting. Or, maybe it’s your own heartbeat? There’s the gentle movement of Beel’s chest as he breathes - that’s his, for sure, at least. And there’s the warmth of his body, the solidity of him, that keeps you tethered to this specific spot in the park where the two of you had spent quite a lovely lunch, you think fondly. You remember the details of the event as though it happened years ago instead of merely an hour or so earlier.
It’s so strange that something that just happened should feel so far away, you muse, eyes once again drawn towards the starry sky, which doesn’t seem to have gotten any darker. Why hasn’t the moon set? Has time stopped altogether? You grip Beel’s shirt without realizing, seeking out an anchor to keep you from floating away into the strange time warp.
“Are you okay?” Beel asks with concern. His arm closes around you, pulling your head more firmly onto his chest, keeping you near. The way your fingers dug into his shirt a moment ago worries him. Maybe you’re experiencing some side-effects specific to humans, after all? He frowns. “MC?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” You assure the demon without letting go of your anchor. There’s no reason to alarm him, and you do feel better just by being closer. This time, you’re sure it’s Beel’s heartbeat you’re feeling as you take a moment to sink back down to reality, where you’re here with Beel. His bodily presence is familiar, comforting. Almost… human? “I just had a weird moment.” A moment that you’re sure is related to the drug you accidentally indulged in. It’s the whole experience that’s bringing up some weird thoughts and feelings, though. Is it okay to talk to Beel about it? “Um, I ask you something?”
Beel tilts his head to try to look down at you. You seem extra small compared to him today - or maybe that’s just the way you’re grabbing onto him, a bit like he’s your lifeline. “Go ahead.”
Beel feels your fingers knot themselves more deeply in his shirt.
“Was I what you expected? You know, as a human?” You ask more directly than you’d imagined you could.
What he’d expected? Beel mulls over your question in silence as you listen to your heartbeats. It’s not that it’s a difficult question, but he’s never really thought about it before. What had he imagined you to be like?
The gentle hum of Devildom insects swells in the lull as you wait for Beel’s answer, the first real, reassuring sign that time has passed. It’s a relief, somehow. You find yourself picking out the sounds of each member of the symphony one-by-one, admiring the Hell Crickets with their funny little warbles. Somewhere in the distance, a devil-horned toad croaks. Beel was right, after all - it’s almost dinner time.
“No,” Beel says at last. “You’re not what I expected.”
His answer is flat and honest and leaves much unsaid. Yet, for some reason, it’s exactly what you’d hoped to hear. Beel isn’t exactly what you’d expected from a demon, either. Well, maybe in some ways, but definitely not in others. Not in the ones that matter the most.
“I’m glad.” You tell him enigmatically, your fingers in his shirt relaxing at last.
Why his response out of all possible responses should soothe you, Beel has no idea. But somehow, he feels both understood and that he understands. The two of you stay quiet for the space of several long seconds before Beel speaks again.
“Was I what you expected?”
“No, not really.” You answer easily. “Maybe a little, I guess. I mean, you were a little intimidating, at first. But you’re much more…” Your fingers on his shirt pluck lightly at the fabric, pulling out the right words to use. “You’re more human than I expected.”
“Human?” Beel asks, curious. He’s never been likened to a human before. He’s been an angel and a demon, of course, but never a human. Is that a good thing? Humans are the weakest of the three, or at least that’s what he’d thought. But, Beel realizes, he’d never describe you as weak. Is that the Celestial heritage he sees in you, or something else? Maybe, Beel considers, humans aren’t so small, after all.
“Yeah, I mean, sometimes it feels like you’re just a human, like me.” You explain. But then a new thought occurs. “Oh! Maybe we’re more like you,” Your wide eyes turn back towards the expanse of the sky as something like a revelation hits you. “Maybe it’s not that you’re like a human, but I’m more like a demon!”
Beel laughs loudly, and you can feel it through his chest before you push yourself up onto your elbow to look at him. “What’s so funny?” You ask, giggling and matching his smile with your own despite yourself as his body shakes against yours, his laughter slow to subside. You both seem prone to laughing fits today. “Why are you laughing? I’m serious!”
“You’re not like a demon at all,” Beel explains, trying to contain a few last chuckles of his own as he looks up at you.
“Oh yeah?” You ask, poking him in the stomach teasingly. “And why’s that?”
“You’re too good.” Beel says matter-of-factly, still smiling. “You’re more like an angel than a demon.”
You feel your face grow warm, though you’re not entirely sure being called an angel is a compliment, coming from a demon. When Beel says it, though, it feels like it must be.
“Well, you’re too sweet to be a demon,” You retort, poking the Avatar of Gluttony in the stomach again. “So there.”
Beel blushes from your compliment, his smile genuine. No one ever has much to say about him that isn’t related to food. But that is what defines him, isn’t it? His hunger? That’s what makes him a demon: the gnawing, sickening, insatiable hunger with which he could devour the whole world if he's not careful. But… it doesn’t feel so terrifying when you’re with him. As far as Beel’s concerned, that’s just another point in the angel column, for you. That and the fact that your scent reminds him of something Celestial. It’s pleasant. Nostalgic, even.
“Thanks, MC.”
To your surprise, you’re suddenly being pulled back down onto Beel’s chest, your head tucked under his chin and his arms tight around you.
“You also smell more like an angel than a demon.” Beel states.
Your pulse jumps as Beel inhales deeply, making you rise and fall on his chest.
"I smell like an angel?” You ask, unable to hold back another giggle, which you bury in his chest. “What does that even mean?”
“Hmmm,” Beel’s hum is low and content as he nuzzles his nose into your hair to fill the pause. “It means… It means I like it.” His lips move against the top of your head as he speaks, and you can’t help but feel a little like he’s about to take a taste.
“Beel!” You admonish him with a giggle. “Please don’t eat my hair!”
Beel chuckles before giving your hair a playful nibble, and the happy sound makes your heart full.
“I mean it!” You laugh as you reach up a hand to smooth the places where Beel’s mouth has mussed your hair. “I won’t be happy if you give me an impromptu haircut.”
“I won’t.” Beel promises. He brushes his lips against the top of your head in a semblance of a kiss, and you suddenly go quiet, feeling at once peaceful and incredibly alive. It’s only now that you notice that one of Beel’s hands pressed to the small of your back has pushed up the hem of your shirt and rests there imperfectly, fingertips grazing along the softness of your bare skin.
“Beel?”
“Hm?”
“What do I… feel like?”
“Feel like?”
You nod into Beel’s chest, still distracted by the tickle of his fingers, which have neither slowed nor sped up. It feels almost alarming to have Beel touching you so softly, given the way it’s making your heart pound, but you’re safe with him. You’re always safe with Beel. You tuck your face beneath Beel’s chin to hide a small hum that runs through you at the gentleness of his touch. You feel his voice in his chest as he answers you, and the vibrations almost distract you from his actual words.
“You feel… human.” Beel says at last, exhaling breath you didn’t know he’d been holding. “Your body temperature is right for a human, but… you’re also very soft.”
Soft… scent of an angel… These aren’t ways you’ve ever heard yourself described. Were they coming from someone else, they might even sound infantilizing. But the way Beel says them, you don’t think that’s what he means; it sounds more like he’s admiring you than making you feel small. Plus, it’s just a matter-of-fact that demons and humans are made out of different stuff, isn’t it? And you just happen to be made out of more fragile materials. Though, really, it’s not like Beel feels less soft, you think, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the warmth of his fingers at your back. He doesn’t feel anything other than human. Not that you can tell, anyway.
“I don’t get it.” You say at last, shaking your head slightly. Maybe it’s the Devil’s Lettuce, but you’re having a bit of a time comprehending how you and Beel are really any different at all, at the moment. When the two of you are side-by-side like this, it feels so easy, so natural. It’s almost like you feel the same, somehow. “You don’t feel any different from a human to me, either.”
There’s a brief moment of instability as Beel shifts your position until you’re perched on top of him, his hips nestled between your thighs. Now, looking down at him from your new perspective, you suddenly see the parts of Beel that are definitely not human: black horns and an iridescent shimmer of wings that peek out from his sides.
“What about now?” Beel asks with a blush.
“W-well,” You stutter on your reply as you look down at the demon who now lies beneath you. Had you actually forgotten that Beel has horns and wings? It’s not like you’ve ever really interacted with them before, or touched them. Not on purpose, anyways. You shift in your spot as you examine Beel, gaze sweeping over the foreign parts of him with curiosity, Beel’s initial question completely slipping your mind.
“Have you always had wings? Like, even in the Celestial Realm?” You ask Beel, admiring the way they seem to gleam in the light of the Devildom moon.
“No, I got them after the fall.” Beel replies, watching you reach out a hand to touch them for yourself. He can’t quite control the little flutter that they give as your fingers make contact, gliding along the veins of his wings gently, almost reverently.
“They’re beautiful…” You tell Beel in a near-whisper, feeling the surprising strength and solidity of his wings that, to all appearances, seem as fragile as ricepaper. There’s so much detail to them, you think, tracing the intricacies of them with quiet fingers. They’re unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. Beel chuckles at the tickle of your touch, and you pull back your hand sheepishly, avoiding Beel’s gaze.
"You can touch me, MC," Beel says, raising his head to look at you better. "I don't mind."
Your eyes flicker to his, and you see that Beel is being honest, if a bit self-conscious. And just like that, your hands are moving before your thoughts give them permission, and you’re hesitantly reaching out your hand to touch one of Beel’s horns, black like obsidian. You’re surprised to find it not at all cold, like you’d imagined. It's smooth but for the ridges and dangerously sharp at the tip, you realize, testing the point of Beel’s horn with the pad of your thumb.
“Beel, what are your horns made of?” You ask, running your fingers along the length of one, feeling the strange material and shape, in awe of the way they seem to soak in the starlight.
.
“Um,” Beel’s brow knits together for a moment, recalling his demon biology 101 class. If only he hadn’t been so hungry during that class, maybe he could better answer your question. “I don’t remember, MC. Sorry.”
“What makes them dark?” You ask, unconcerned at having had one question go unanswered.
Beel frowns slightly to himself. “I don’t know. But not all demons have dark horns like this. You’ve probably seen a few different kinds by now.”
You have, and you nod in affirmation, unreasonably satisfied by this lack of an answer. Closing your fist around the horn, you slide your hand down to its base, feeling a shift from Beel beneath you and hearing yet another low chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” You ask him.
“It tickles a little when you touch them,” Beel says with a smile, his eyes closed. “But it’s not bad.”
“What does it feel like?” You ask, curious. Your fingers slip from the base of his horn to his hair, brushing the bright locks there and twirling them lightly between your fingers. From the look on Beel’s face and his lightly tinted cheeks, you imagine that it must feel a bit like being petted; the expression he’s wearing is so much like the one Cerberus gives you when you manage to calm him long enough for a thorough brushing.
Beel reaches out a hand for the one you have tangled in his hair, holding it up and splaying your fingers. “Hmm,” He hums as he taps the end of your fingernails with his pointer finger. “Maybe like that? I can tell you’re touching me, but it’s different than when you touch me somewhere I can really feel it. Like if you touch me here.” Beel takes the hand he’s still holding and brings it to his chest, your palm pressed flat against his shirt. You both blush lightly, and Beel chuckles, smiling. “I think I like this better.”
Your heart thumps offbeat from Beel’s own beneath your hand. Your gaze lowers from Beel’s pink face to where your hand sits, his larger one still around your wrist. His shirt suddenly feels so thin, and near the neckline, you see dark stripes peeking from behind the fabric. That’s right! Horns and wings aren’t the only demonic features Beel has.
“Beel, can I see your tattoos?” You ask, your focus shifting suddenly and easily.
Beel obligingly removes his shirt so you can get a better look at the dark marks that stripe his shoulders, chest, and stomach. He watches as your eyes take them in methodically - it reminds him of the look you get while studying a particularly challenging spell; brow slightly knitted, your bottom lip worried between your teeth. He’s seen this look on your face dozens of times over the past few months as you’ve worked diligently on your coursework.
“Did they hurt?” You ask Beel somberly, reaching out to trace one of the inked black stripes with a gentle fingertip. They’re so stark against his skin, you think. Stong, almost aggressive. Your eyes linger on one stripe and then the next, taking inventory of the marks on Beel’s chest as it slowly rises and falls.
“Ah, no.” Beel says, heart fluttering at your soft touch on his bare shoulder. “I didn’t feel a thing.” The delicate path of your finger feels magnified, somehow. It’s like being tickled with a handful of feathers, but they have weight, solidity, and that only makes the sensation more powerful to Beel. He watches you closely.
You allow yourself the indulgence of your inspection, breath caught in your throat as your gaze wanders over every detail of the demon. Why does it suddenly feel like you've never really looked at Beel before? Because right now, you're hyper-focused on every single triviality, all the small secrets about him you never knew before. Not just his demon parts, either, but the delicate fringe of his eyelashes, the tension in his lips when he speaks, the way his hair doesn’t quite tuck behind his ears, the small specks dusting his shoulders…
Wait…
“Beel, you have freckles!” You exclaim delightedly. Once again, your hand has a mind of its own, and you’re rubbing a thumb over the delicate, barely-there spots on his shoulder. They’re quite pale; it’s no wonder that you haven’t noticed them before.
Beel turns his face to look where you’re touching him, then drops his head back onto the blanket with a chuckle. “Oh. Yeah.”
“Does Belphie have them too?” You ask, mesmerized by the pattern of dots that cover his shoulder like small grains of light sand. He’s soft up close, you think. Soft and smooth. You rein in a sudden impulse to count each and every freckle - or maybe play connect-the-dots.
“No,” Beel answers, looking up at the starry sky again, feeling your touch like it’s something both far away and incredibly close. “Belphie’s never had them.”
“Never?” You ask absently, your fingertips chasing the scattering of freckles down Beel’s shoulder to his arm, where they disappear beneath his light arm hair, or perhaps altogether.
But there’s no answer; Beel’s mind has floated outward from your touch to some distant memory you can’t share with him - impressions of his days in the Celestial Realm and its brilliant sunlight bathing his face. If he closes his eyes, the Devildom’s warmth can almost be taken for Celestial sunlight. Beel smiles. If he tries, he can almost hear the tinkling laughter of someone who he hasn’t seen in a very long time, and nearby, the soothing voice of his twin says something that makes Beel want to laugh with them.
But the gentle exploration of your hands slowly tugs Beel back to the present, where he becomes aware of your palm gliding down his forearm towards his wrist. He watches you inspect him, your eyes following your hand like you’re in danger of losing focus at any moment. You once again have a serious look about you that Beel isn’t sure how to interpret, not when it’s aimed at him so intently.
Slowly, you reach for one of Beel’s hands and take it in yours. It’s only fair, right? To let Beel touch you too? You lift his hand to your own chest, over your heart, and release it, granting Beel permission to touch you, if he likes. “I’m not a demon,” You say, as if it’s somehow important for Beel to understand. “Or an angel.”
Beel blushes deeply, but he understands. “That’s true.” He nods, his gaze never wavering from yours. He can feel your heart thumping beneath his palm through your shirt. It pulls him all the way back to the present where he’s here, with you. Maybe it’s still an effect from the cookies, Beel thinks, but suddenly the world doesn’t feel so big, and the past doesn’t seem so far away. Not with you beside him.
“Beel?”
“Hm?”
“I… want to kiss you.”
Your own words surprise you, and your eyes widen. Sure, you’d been thinking about it for some time, you suddenly realize, but that doesn’t mean you should just say so! You feel your face heating as your confession hangs between the two of you, the hum of Devildom insects providing a peaceful interlude as you await Beel’s response.
“I’d like that,” Beel replies at last, a smile slowly appearing. “A lot.”
You’re unsure whether you should go down to him or Beel should come up to you, given your current position, but then Beel’s hand is slipping around to your back, and he’s pulling you down to him gently, close enough for you to feel his breath fan your face.
“Beel…”
The kiss is soft, and neither of you pulls away. There’s an awkward moment, and then you’re finding the right rhythm, a gentle give and take that suddenly feels as natural as breathing. Your hands seek out Beel's warmth in the broad expanse of his chest, the soft and strong column of his neck. Meanwhile, his lips keep your thoughts from wandering too far away to consider the feel of his body under yours.
When you finally part to take a breath, you blink through the cloud of sensation to take in the pretty gleam of Beel’s eyes in the moonlight, the smallness of your palms pressed to his bare chest. Did that just happen? Was that real? Everything still feels a little hazy at the edges, a little like time is standing still. Did you and Beel just kiss? And was it so amazing?
Beel gives you a small smile that reaches his eyes. "You're tasty."
You giggle, the ‘Beelness’ of the comment making you forget to still wonder if any of this is really happening. "Like an angel, or a demon?"
"Like a human," Beel replies instantly, a warmth in his chest and his cheeks. "Like you."
You expect him to elaborate, but Beel doesn’t say another word. But maybe there aren’t any more words that need to be said, you think.
“Like me,” You repeat, once again strangely satisfied with the simplicity of Beel’s response. “I like that.”
Beel’s smile widens, and suddenly you’re being brought down close again by warm hands. Beel’s lips are nearly on yours again when he pauses with a smile. “I like it too.”