Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Scarab liked things clean and orderly, and the forest floor is just about the opposite of that.

Upon waking up with his face planted firmly in the dirt, he immediately shot up, brushing it off his face. 

“What the hell? Disgusting…” he whispered. Heaven wasn’t usually a dirty place, so what was this?

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp pain in his head. He quickly closed his eyes again, putting a hand to his aching head before realizing with a start that he was no longer wearing his mask. Something was wrong. The Scarab always had to have his mask. How else would he strike fear into his enemies? This made him more vulnerable to attack. Someone could take out one of his eyeballs!

“God, where…” he trailed off, mumbling. His brain didn’t seem to want to form a coherent sentence right now.

He opened his eyes and was met with the sunlight filtering through the leaves of the gigantic trees that surrounded him, making his eyes hurt as they tried to adjust.

“Where the hell am I?” he grumbled, standing up on shaky legs. “Why–” he put his hand to his head again, his vision going spotty. He leaned himself on a nearby tree, forcing down the vomit that threatened to leave him. He felt lightheaded and his breathing wasn’t entirely normal. And not only was his skull feeling like it was constantly being hit with a hammer, his left hand was really starting to hurt.

He brought it down from his face to stare at it, and was met with a new sight. A blue mark wrapped around his ring finger like, well, a ring, and it was sore. He stared at it for a minute, trying to recall where this marking had come from. As he leaned his head against the tree and closed his eyes, he started to remember.

…

The Scarab’s day had started out like they usually do. Leave his apartment, walk to the training grounds, and glare at anyone who dared to look at him. 

Most of his fellow angels had always feared him (as they should), and his mask only added to that layer of mysteriousness, not to mention him being the only angel always dressed in red, the color of mortal blood. Everyone knew to avoid The Scarab, who always carried a holy weapon with him wherever he went.

It had been almost a century since he had been relieved from his position as a soldier, but that didn’t stop him from keeping up his skills and reflexes. And besides, no one even went to the training grounds any more after Heaven had signed a peace treaty with Hell.

He changed his staff to its battle form, a scythe-like weapon that had been blessed millenia ago, allowing it to harm both demons and angels. He slashed at everything he could, desperate to occupy himself. This was his sanctuary.

So that made it all the more startling when he heard a voice from behind him.

“Hey, Scrabby. What’re you doing here? Don’t you know this is pretty useless now?” they said, making Scarab jump. He turned around and pointed his weapon at the trespasser. His eyes widened as he recognized them. It was Haniel, looking smug as ever.

“That is none of your business,” Scarab replied, lowering the weapon.

Haniel tucked their glowing wings away. “Still a jerk, huh?” they watched as Scarab slashed at a training dummy. God, their voice was like scraping metal on his skull.

“I am not a jerk,”

“I know a few hundred angels who would disagree.” They sat perched on a stack of hay bales, tossing their shiny hair over their shoulder. Bitch.

“Why are you here?” Scarab snapped. Another training dummy was cut clean in half. Either Haniel was going to have to leave or Scarab was going to run like a coward. 

“The bosses have been talking about getting rid of you, you know. I’m sure you’ve heard about it.” Haniel ignored the question and curled a lock of hair around their finger as if this information was nothing to them. But of course it wasn’t. This was Haniel. They cared for no one but themself.

Scarab stopped. “Wait, they’re what?” He finally turned to glare at them. “Why would they even think of doing that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s you’re whole… thing you have going on,” they gestured vaguely and gave a half-assed attempt at hiding the smile on their face.

“ Thing ?” Scarab raised an eyebrow.

“I just don’t think the Saints feel safe with a bloodthirsty angel going around,”

“You say that like you weren’t also a soldier,” Scarab clutched his scythe a little tighter.

“I may have been one, but I moved on. That’s something that must be really hard for you, huh?” Their tone changed to one of fake pity.

Anger bubbled in Scarab’s chest. “Shut up.”

“Why? I’m just trying to be nice!” Haniel got down from the hay bales, meeting him face to face. “I guess I forgot that you only yell at people who do nice things,” they smirked ever so slightly, and that tipped Scarab off the edge.

Before he even realized what he was doing, he changed his scythe to a knife and stabbed it into Haniel’s abdomen, pushing them to the ground. 

“You really think you have the right to do this to me?” Scarab growled.

“I should say the same to you,” Haniel said, spitting out ichor. 

It was all a blur after that, just stab stab stab as the golden ichor got everywhere. At some point, several angels showed up to restrain him. The pained, exaggerated shouts of Haniel must have alerted them. One managed to inject Scarab with some sort of sedative. His vision went dark and everything felt fuzzy.

…

Scarab hadn’t been awake for most of the Seraphims’ decision making. He moved in and out of consciousness, hearing talk of Hell, a prince, and the mortal realm. Whatever drug they had used on him was preventing him from moving and everything sounded like it was coming from another room entirely.

It felt like his brain had turned to mush, hardly able to recall why he was here. He never slept, so why was he doing it now?

He was only barely able to keep his eyes open long enough to catch sight of Michael and Gabriel conversing in hushed whispers, and he could have sworn he saw Evangeline leave the room.

But before he could have any more time to think about this, he drifted off into a light sleep yet again. He felt someone taking his hand and a burning pain that followed, but it was like his body didn’t want to put in the effort to react.

And he was sent away without so much as a goodbye.

…

Scarab pushed his face off of the tree, finally feeling himself wake up. “Ugh, shit…” He hadn’t realized he’d drifted off.

A sharp rustling of leaves came from his right and he jumped, reaching for his staff only to realize he no longer had it. He looked around frantically, freezing once he saw movement. But it was just a squirrel, bounding its way to the nearest tree.

He relaxed his shoulders, his heart still beating rapidly. That was embarrassing.

So this was great. They had taken his staff, his mask, and gave him a weird ring mark. Speaking of which, it had started glowing a soft silvery-blue.

He jumped as a string formed, weaving its way further into the forest. It was attached to his ring marking, and it certainly moved like a normal string when he moved his hand up and down, but when he tried to grab it and pull it, his hand simply phased through it.

He frustratedly pawed at it again and again but it didn’t work.

“Goddamnit,” he said, focusing back on how it led further into the forest. If he wanted to find out what the deal was with this thing, he’d have to follow it. And he had nothing better to do.

Chapter Text

The sun was a lot prettier than Prismo had imagined. He’d only read about it in books on the mortal realm, but he didn’t realize you could actually feel the warmth from coming all the way up in the sky. Or that a beam of it could conveniently shine in your face until you woke up. He also didn’t realize how bad it hurt to look at.

The first thing he had remembered when he woke up was his sister’s distraught face. He groaned, then shielded his face from the sun, catching sight of the mark on his right ring finger.  A bitter reminder of how there was no going back, how all he had ever been was a disappointment. Well, he had a chance to be a new man now. He stood up and walked around in the area he was in, moving into the shade.

“Sorry, Lills,” he sighed, leaning his back against a tree and looking up to stare at the foliage overhead. Little bits of sunlight still poked through. He touched his forehead, feeling as if there was a void where his horns used to be. His head felt so much lighter without them, it was weird.

His memories of the wish and entering the portal were fuzzy, and he was pretty sure that was intentional. Perhaps Mother suspected he’d try to recreate the portal spell to get back home.

He winced at the sore sensation coming from his right hand. He lifted it in front of his face, staring at the blue band around his finger.

… 

It wasn’t supposed to end the way it did. In fact, there was a lot Prismo could have done to prevent it. Suck it up and tolerate Mother, for example.

Prismo had been with his sister Lillie, sitting on her bed while she did up her hair. She was getting ready for a royal ball being hosted in the Palace that evening.

And of course, he wasn’t allowed to participate. Hell, he wasn’t even supposed to be around Lillie right now.

Then Mother came in, wearing a long black and red dress and a silver chain around her neck, only the slightest bit fancier than her usual ensemble. She looked as if she were about to say something, but she closed her mouth when she saw her son.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed, unmoving. Annoyance bubbled up in Prismo’s chest.

“Talking to Lills, what does it look like?” he snapped, then bit his tongue. He was not one to speak out at Mother like that, even if she was being kind of bitchy. Lillie glanced between the two, keeping her mouth shut.

“Ugh, I’ve had just about enough of you.” She moved over to Lillie and helped her with her hair, taking care to remove the colorful little star clips Prismo had bought for his sister on her 900th birthday. “Get out.”

Prismo’s shoulders slumped, but he obeyed. He gave Lillie a glance before exiting and she gave him an apologetic look.

The ball was being held to celebrate the 100th anniversary of Heaven and Hell making a peace treaty. The Seraphim had been invited to attend, and Mother had insisted Prismo stay out of the way so the royal family didn’t make a bad impression on them.

That’s how it was with Mother. Always refusing to be seen with her screwup of a son. And while he knew she was the one in the wrong, he couldn’t help the self-hatred that gnawed at his heart.

When Mother had finished dressing Lillie up like she was her little doll, she made sure to keep her daughter occupied and away from Prismo, with things like asking her what she thought of the decorations, the food, the lighting.

Prismo sat atop the stone wall of the garden when Lillie walked out. She’d snuck a few star clips back in her hair, and golden rings now adorned her horns.

“Look who’s finally free,” Prismo said, swinging his legs and giving her a smile.

Lillie returned the smile and crouched down to stare at the flowers that surrounded her. She plucked a yellow marigold, spinning it with her fingers. “Does this flower look good with my hair?” she asked, holding it to her pink curls.

“Totally.”

“Thanks.” Lillie tucked the flower behind her ear. She sighed.

There was silence for a minute, the two awkwardly looking around until Lillie spoke up again. “Pris, I’m really sorry about Mother–”

“Dude, it’s fine,” he shrugged. “Just good ol’ mother. I’m used to it.” 

Lillie picked another marigold. “Just because you’re used to it doesn’t make it okay.” She plucked the petals off one by one. “There’s no way it isn’t rough on you.”

“Lills, don’t worry about–”

A door burst open, followed by a voice calling Lillie’s name. Speak of the devil (literally). Mother emerged, her golden crown now adorning her head.

“Lillie, darling, I need you–” Mother stopped when she saw Prismo, her eyes narrowing. “Ah. Of course you’re here.”

“And?” Prismo jumped down from the wall.

“ And I prefer you not be. Lillie has better things to do than be around you.” Mother grabbed Lillie’s wrist and pulled her away. “Lillie, you’re going to get dirty and ruined out here.”

“This is ridiculous. Mother, Lills isn’t going to get ruined if she’s around me.”

“Do you really think so? For all I know, whatever… mutation you have could be contagious. If Lillie became like you, I don’t know what I’d do.” Mother didn’t even bother hiding the venom in her voice this time.

“The fuck do you mean ‘mutation’?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

And it was true. Prismo did know, and he hated it.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his temper. “Alright, fine. Since you’re so tired of me, I have a wish,” he said, getting it out before he could stop himself. He’d thought about this for a while, only wanting to use it as a last resort.

Mother stiffened, her grip on Lillie tightening. She wasn’t allowed to deny a wish from anyone who came to her, as long as it didn’t violate the basic wish-making rules. The same applied for Prismo and Lillie, who inherited her powers as the Wishmaster. Lillie preferred not to use her powers, claiming it was cheating at life and stuff.

“Pris, don’t.” Lillie warned. But he didn’t listen.

“I wish I could leave Hell.”

He didn’t know what was worse: Mother’s expression changing to one of slight relief and satisfaction, or Lillie’s look of despair. But he couldn’t change his mind. Once a wish was made, it was made.

“Fine. I will grant your wish.” Mother let go of Lillie and marched up to her son. “But as the Queen of all Hell, I can’t just let demon blood out into the mortal realm. It would be stupid and irresponsible. Come with me so I can get this over with.” She grabbed his arm and Prismo tried not to pull away, her touch making his skin crawl.

…

The Seraphim had been contacted about an hour before they were supposed to arrive, and they had the brilliant idea of chaining Prismo to an angel that had apparently been acting up, and keep the two in exile on Earth for the rest of their lives. Prismo didn’t really pay attention. He was too anxious to just get the fuck out of there and be gone forever.

Mother used a spell to brand him with a blue ring-like mark, the magic stinging as it seeped into his finger. He had to bite his lip to keep a straight face. She created a portal with the help of the Seraphim and sent him through it without letting him say goodbye or apologize to Lillie. The memories got fuzzier around that time, but he could clearly remember how she had sounded delighted to let him go, like she’d been waiting for this moment for millenia. She probably had.

…

Maybe he should have wished for Lillie to join him, so they would both be free. Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut like he had done time and time again for most of his life. But he couldn’t fix this and he couldn’t go back. And now Prince Prismo of Hell was reduced to a human.

It wasn’t that bad so far. It felt pretty normal for the most part, if not nicer. No horns, no more being stuck in the palace except for when he could sneak out, and the mortal realm had a beautiful sun that burned light in his eyes if he looked directly at it. Who could complain about that?

He did a double take when his marking began to glow, a small string appearing from it and trailing through the forest. He tried picking it up between his fingers, but he couldn’t.

Well, there was literally nothing else to do, unless he wanted to rot in this forest forever. He followed the string.

Chapter Text

It was a long time before Scarab reached the end of the string. And unfortunately, it was attached to someone.

He had been walking for a while. His legs were starting to ache as he repeatedly stepped over rotting logs and rocks jutting out of the ground, making his way uphill. The effort made his stomach feel weird. 

Just as he started to believe the string was endless and just meant to torture him and his weak new body, he heard footsteps. This time, they definitely didn’t belong to a squirrel. Scarab was quick to grab a stick, ready to use it as a makeshift weapon and gripping it tightly as he waited for that thing to show itself.

It was a person.

Scarab watched as he stepped into view, their eyes following the string all the way up to him. All was quiet as they stared at each other, unsure of what to make of this situation.

The man was wearing a colorful outfit that made Scarab’s eyes strain, and it didn’t help that he also had the brightest pink hair he had ever seen. One color suited The Scarab just fine, so perhaps the world should take a hint and do the same.

Scarab broke eye contact first, instead staring at the string that connected them both. Reality started to sink in and anger bubbled in his chest. He was chained to someone . Those Heavenly bastards.

“Um… hey!” the man said, offering a smile that Scarab did not return. He never smiled.

“Hello.” Scarab spoke in a steely voice, keeping the temper that got him in trouble in the first place at bay. The fact that someone was staring at him while he didn’t have his mask made his skin prickle.

The man lifted his hand, causing the string to move up with him. “Looks like we’re gonna be stuck together, huh?”

Scarab mulled this over. Clearly, this colorful freak wasn’t surprised at the situation and must in fact have more of an understanding of what’s going on.

“And just who are you, exactly?” he asked.

“I’m Prismo, nice to meet you!” the man held out a hand for him to shake.

Scarab tensed. He knew that name. “The Prince of Hell.” He shook his hand by taking his pointer finger and thumb and delicately moving Prismo’s hand up and down for a moment. “I’ve heard of you.”

Prismo looked away. “Only good things, I hope,” he chuckled weakly.

“So, Prismo , tell me why I’m chained to the Prince of Hell.”

“O-oh, you didn’t… um…” he looked away. “It’s a long story! Really long and kind of stupid. Why are you chained to me? Who are you ?”

Scarab scoffed. “I am called The Scarab.” Prismo expectantly waited for him to continue. “...That’s all you are permitted to know. Now answer my question. I am not afraid to harm a prince.” He pointed the stick at Prismo.

Prismo lowered it with a finger. “Easy there, Scrabby.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“Sorry,” he smiled again. “So I kind of wished myself out of Hell and the catch was to become mortal and get tied to an angel they wanted to punish. And I assume that’s you! So…” he trailed off.

Scarab threw the stick away. “I can’t believe this. After everything I have done to serve, they just throw me away and chain me to– to you!” He turned around, beginning to pace. The headache was starting to come back.

“I’m sorry, man.”

“I don’t need your apologies!”

Prismo sat down on one of the large rocks, picking at the lichen. Scarab looked at the string once more and clenched his fist. Perhaps if he just walked away now and never looked back, he could find a way to get back to Heaven and ignore the string and never see this stupid prince ever again.

“I’m leaving,” Scarab said.

“Are you sure that’s gonna work, dude? I’m pretty sure the string keeping us together is gonna, well, keep us together .”

“I don’t care.”

Prismo shrugged. “Good luck, then. See ya, Scrabby.”

“Never call me that again.” Scarab growled, before turning around and stalking off. Good riddance, Prismo .

…

Scarab didn’t know where he was going, obviously , but that didn’t stop him. He just needed to go away.  

He tripped over a root, hitting the ground hard as he caught himself with his hands. Pain shot through his bones. “Damnit,” he growled, pushing himself back up. The sudden movement had also made his stomach feel just awful again. Based on all his experience so far, the mortal world was a cruel and stupid place meant only to inflict pain.

He stepped over a stream as another squirrel ran from him. Those damn squirrels.

The string was slowly rising off the ground, a reminder that his traveling distance was only getting shorter and shorter, but he refused to look back at it. It only served as a cruel reminder of his punishment.

The weather was warmer than Scarab would have preferred in the current outfit he was in, which he had only just realized was on his body in place of his usual suit, gloves, and boots, but something more casual. At the very least, it was all still red. He pushed up his sleeves and tried to ignore the nausea.

Haniel had it coming and Scarab refused to admit he was in the wrong, because he wasn’t . If only the Seraphim knew about the true nature of that pretentious bitch. If only they hadn’t shown up to piss him off. If only, if only. Scarab replayed the event in his head, going through scenarios of how it could have gone differently. He could have controlled his temper, he could have left, he could have merely threatened Haniel instead of stabbing them. But that thing they had said… ugh, why did he let that get to him? He was truly pathetic. If only–

His ‘if only’s’ were interrupted by the string going rigid, his arm straining from the sudden force. He growled and tugged on it. Surprisingly, it moved and allowed him a few more steps. Well, until the other end pulled back and Scarab fell backwards.

Perfect. The string wouldn’t let him go further and he’d have to just endure Prismo.

…

He had been spacing out on the rock he had seated himself on until the string gave a sharp tug and he was pulled off, his elbow scraping the ground.

“Ow. Jeez,” Prismo said. He pulled back at the string before rubbing his elbow, which was stinging. 

The string became looser, a sure sign that Scarab had started walking back. Well, why wait any longer for him to get here? Prismo might as well just meet him in the middle.

It didn’t take too long before he found a sick-looking Scarab, his arms crossed and refusing to look at Prismo as he swayed on his feet slightly.

“Hey,” Prismo said.

“Shut up.”

“Dude, are you okay?” Prismo asked as Scarab leaned on a tree, a hand over his mouth.

“I’m fine, ” he said through gritted teeth.

“You don’t look–”

“I don’t care if I look awful. I am fine.” Scarab glared at him as he said this, but it didn’t hide the trembling in his legs.

“You look like you’re about to throw up.”

He growled. “Don’t remind me.”

The sky was changing to a pinkish-orange hue, the sun lowering in the horizon. Prismo knew that meant it was about to get dark, so they should probably find someplace to sleep and preferably somewhere comfortable enough that Scarab’s condition didn’t worsen.

“Look, let’s just focus on finding shelter, because I do not want to sleep on the ground tonight.”

Scarab rolled his eyes. “Of course a prince would say that.”

“Do you want to sleep on the ground?”

“...no.”

“See? Get up, let’s go.”

Scarab pushed himself off the tree, clearly trying to hold himself up and look as healthy as possible, but his short breath said otherwise.

…

How embarrassing. Heaven’s best fighter, reduced to a nauseous, dizzy mortal. The sickness had crept up on him out of nowhere, and it seemed to get worse with every step he took.

Scarab focused all his energy on keeping himself composed, unable to listen to the constant blabbering of that stupid prince. He was saying something about the sun, which was currently just below the horizon.

Scarab’s heart was beating uncomfortably from the effort of walking and every quick movement sent his brain spinning. 

Before he knew what was going on, he tripped –probably on his own stupid feet– and would have fallen if Prismo hadn’t steadied him. The touch was surprisingly gentle, at least compared to what he was used to. 

“Get off of me,” Scarab spat.

“Sorry.”

The sky was significantly darker when they found a sign of civilization– a dusty old road stretching along between corn fields.

“Oh, thank god,” Prismo said. “Come on, I’m sure if we follow it we’ll find people.”

Scarab only managed a grunt in response.

The walk was a long one, and Scarab had no idea why his legs hadn’t fallen off yet. Ugh, what a great time to not have wings. The sharp pain in his abdomen and the nausea did not mix well. He dug his fingers into his stomach as far as they could go in hopes of stifling the pain. He saw Prismo almost speak to him, but he closed his mouth when Scarab shot him a glare. It was so annoying how worried he was pretending to be. Scarab would have to remember to never, never be vulnerable near him.

The sky was completely dark now, and they were walking blindly for about ten minutes, until Prismo excitedly tapped Scarab’s arm.

“Look, I see lights!”

Scarab squinted ahead. Sure enough, there were several lit up windows belonging to houses, and even a couple streetlights. It didn’t take long for Prismo to spot a dimly-lit sign with the words ‘Moorestown Inn’ on it. 

A few houses were placed on either side of the road, sitting quietly on the outskirts of the town. Some adults and their grubby little children sat on their porches, chatting about this and that until Scarab and Prismo walked by. Scarab could feel their stares burning into his skin.

Fortunately, the inn was open. 

“Angels first,” Prismo said, holding the door open for his companion. 

Scarab rolled his eyes and immediately went through, sitting down on one of the wooden chairs by the reception desk. No one was currently behind there, but it didn’t take long before they heard a muffled “Oh shoot, someone’s here!” come from a set of doors nearby. A woman burst into the room and ran to get behind the desk. 

If Prismo was colorful, she was absolutely eye-bleed vibrant every-color-of-the-rainbow colorful. She had a rainbow scarf draped across her neck, a large pink and blue cardigan, a rainbow scrunchie to tie up her ridiculously long blonde hair, and each of her nails was painted a different hue.

“Well hello! How can I help you?” she asked Prismo cheerfully.

Scarab tuned out the rest of the interaction. Apparently Prismo hadn’t thought about the fact that they had no money to pay for a room. What a fool. But maybe he could sleep on the chair all night for free. At this point he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He rested his elbow on his knee and his face in his hand, the nausea finally settling down now that he was seated. His throat was dry and his head felt oddly hollow. He would wonder what the hell was happening to his body, but currently he was too busy enjoying the half-sleep he was getting.

“Hey. Scrabs. Wake up.”

Scarab blinked his eyes open and sat up. He glared at Prismo. How dare he interrupt his rest?

“Come on, we’re going to our room.” Prismo held up an old key.

Scarab stood up, his legs and stomach and head all protesting at the motion. “And just how did you pay for it?”

“I promised her I’d do some work for like a day or two and she was cool with it.” he shrugged.

Scarab rolled his eyes. Of course he’d been able to charm his way into getting them a room. He should have guessed.

…

“I am going to be in the bathroom throwing up. Do not bother me.”

Prismo sat down on the couch, watching Scarab calmly enter the bathroom and shut the door behind him. “Good… luck..?”

‘Poor guy,’ Prismo thought. Considering the fact that Heaven was supposedly safe from all plague, famine, and just bad things in general, he could safely assume that Scarab had never been sick before and his immune system was absolute shit. Maybe being sick was an additional punishment.

When Scarab eventually emerged, he immediately collapsed on the bed face down.

“You good?” Prismo asked. “Do you need, like, water or something?”

“I am fine.”

“Dude, you should probably have water or you’re going to feel worse.”

“I do not care.” Scarab covered his head with a pillow.

Prismo turned out the lamp and laid down on the couch, his legs hanging off the end. They ached from all the walking, and it didn’t take long for him to feel the exhaustion sink in. He had a new life ahead of him now and it was going to take a lot out of him.

Chapter Text

The sun had just barely risen when Scarab pushed the pillow off his face. For a fleeting moment, he had expected to see the familiar intricately designed ceiling tiles above him that belonged to his apartment, but the one he was met with was the dull wooden one of the Moorestown Inn. 

He sat up, his arms shaking from the effort and his head spinning. Prismo was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps that pretentious idiot was out charming more people into doing his bidding.

Only when Scarab noticed the glass of water on the nightstand did he realize how bad he needed hydration. He extended trembling hands to grasp it and take slow, small sips for fear of throwing it all back up. God, that had been an unpleasant event last night.

There was a small knock on the door, and then Prismo poked his head in. “Hey, you’re awake!”

“How observant.”

“Are you feeling any better?” Prismo glanced at the half-empty glass in Scarab’s hands.

“How I ‘feel’ does not matter in the least, prince.” The attempts to please him were aggravating, to say the least. He had yet to figure out what Prismo wanted from him by being so ‘nice’.

“Sure it does, Scrabby.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

Prismo sighed. “Look, at the very least are you able to eat something?”

Scarab considered this for a minute. He still felt nauseated as hell and every sudden movement made him feel like he was falling. “No.”

If Scarab didn’t know any better, he’d say Prismo looked concerned. “Damn. Well, uh, get some rest, okay? I’ll check in on you in an hour.” He almost left, but quickly swung the door back open for one final question. “Oh yeah, if anyone asks, your name is Scott! And mine is Prince.”

Of course he named himself Prince . 

Scarab rolled his eyes as Prismo closed the door, laying down and covering himself with the pillow again. God.

…

It had been years since complete strangers had shown up in Moorestown, and even longer since one stayed at the Inn. It was always occupied by the townspeople’s visiting family. So of course, everyone was going to want to get a glimpse of the strange pair that had turned up last night. 

It was early enough that everything was still quiet, though. Lady sat in a lawn chair next to her best friend Bonnie, who was reading a thick book she had been engrossed in for the past few days.

The back door opened and Prince came out.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the mysterious stranger!” Lady teased.

Last night, she had struck a deal with him: he would do yard work for her and her parents for a day, and get a free room. Given the interesting circumstances, Lady couldn’t resist it.

She had told her parents about it and they were, unsurprisingly, delighted. Almost as delighted as they were when they found out she had started dating Jake.

“Hey!” Prince said, smiling. 

“This is my friend Bonnie!” Lady gestured to her right. “Figured we might as well make some introductions to the group before everyone hunts you down.”

Bonnie waved, not looking up.

“‘Hunts me down’?” Prismo raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, yes. Word gets around fast here, and I’ve already heard of people seeing you guys come into town last night. Everyone’s curious to see you guys.”

“Damn. I dunno how Scr– Scott would feel about that. He’s not really a people person, I think.”

“He’s gonna need some luck surviving the coming storm, then.” Lady sipped at her lemonade. “Now! Time to get to work.”

…

The next few hours were spent with Prismo cycling between weeding a garden, fixing a gate, painting it, and checking in on Scarab. The shade of the large tree that sat in the yard was the only thing keeping the sun from cooking Prismo alive.

When the gate was finally in working condition, it didn’t take long before someone swung it open and ran through.

A small human child rushed in the backyard, a wooden sword in his hand. He was missing a few teeth, which showed in his grin. He stared at Prismo for a minute. He looked behind him to a man that followed. “Look, look, it’s one of the guys I told you about!” He pointed at him with his sword, attempting to blow his long golden hair out of his face and failing. “Remember? From last night?”

“Finn, don’t point weapons at strangers! Or anyone, for that matter.” The man said, closing the gate behind him.

Prismo’s eyebrows raised. This man was, by his standards, cool . He had a black leather jacket, dangling earrings, and this general feeling of ‘nice’.

“Oh, Prince, this is my boyfriend Jake!” Lady said, standing up to give Jake a peck on the cheek before sitting back down again.

Prince stood up. “Nice to meet you.” He smiled, hoping he didn’t look too awkward.

“So you’re the guy I’ve heard so much about,” Jake said. “Nice to meet ya too.”

“So… how many people know about us already..?”

“Probably half the town at this point,” Jake said.

“I’m telling you, Prince, everyone is gonna hunt you down! It’s been years since someone new has shown up to stay in the Inn!” Lady called from her chair.

“Yeah, word gets around fast,” Jake nodded, his attention momentarily directed to Finn, who was climbing on the tree and saying something to Lady and Bonnie. “So, what brings you here in the first place?”

Ah, there it was, the difficult question Prismo hadn’t exactly figured out a good answer to yet. “Me and my…” Was Scarab even his friend? He had made it clear he didn’t want to be, but what else was Prismo supposed to call him? “...me and my friend are looking for a new start, I guess. It’s a long story.”

“Well, can’t think of a better place than Moorestown,” Jake said. Prismo was grateful he didn’t question further.

Before the silence could get awkward, another person came through the repaired gate. “Hey, hey, hey! I heard voices!” The guy had yellow glasses that made his eyes look bigger than they probably should have been and his hair was half up and half down, with hints of blond amidst the dark brown. If Prismo was guessing ages correctly, he looked just a little younger than Jake.

“Woah, it’s the new guy!” He ran up and grabbed Prismo’s hand to eagerly shake. “I’m Mike!”

“Prince,”

Mike released Prismo’s hand and beamed. “I actually had a dream about new people showing up. Pretty sure I’m a prophet or something. But it’s so nice to finally meet someone new! Do you like board games?”

“Uhh-”

“Because I have plenty that have been just sitting around and I could use a new friend for that.”

Jake chuckled, putting an arm around Mike’s shoulder. “He’s been waiting for someone new to come by,” he said to Prismo.

“It’s actually been a while since I played a board game. I’d love to have someone to teach me!” Prismo said.

Mike grinned. “Oh hell yeah!”

…

It had to have been around midday when Scarab’s body had finally decided to work better. Prismo hadn’t checked in for a while (not that he cared, he really didn’t).

“When you get up, get some food and come find me,” Prismo had told him that morning after checking in on him for the third time.

Food. The Scarab didn’t need food. It had been at least three centuries since he’d last eaten something. But the gnawing in his stomach wouldn’t go away, and he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to try subsiding it.

He didn’t want to admit it, but the rest did help. Walking was significantly easier now, and it was mostly just his stomach and the dull ache in his head that was bothering him. He went down the short corridor that housed only six rooms, entering a quaint living area where a few people were eating lunch and talking about this and that. His eye caught on a bland looking piece of bread and he quickly grabbed it. This would do.

Now where was Prismo? Scarab looked at the string that was still on his finger, emitting a little glow as if to taunt him. He followed it until he came to a door, opening it to reveal a small backyard with way too many people in it, Prismo among them. A few heads turned and he avoided all eye contact. He really needed his mask back.

“Oh, you’re up!” Prismo said. “Are you doing better?”

I swear to god, if he told everyone about my condition… he thought. Were they still angel and demon, perhaps he could get away with a few slashes at his associate. “Can we talk?”

“Yeah, sure,” Prismo stood up and they went to a less populated corner of the yard. “What’s up?”

Scarab picked at the bread still in his hand for a moment. “What is the plan, exactly?”

“Plan?”

“Yes, plan! What are we doing? What do we do now?”

“Well, our original plan was to find someplace to sleep. And I don’t know if we should focus on a new one until you’re all better.”

“I’m fine,”

“I think we should wait another day or two to say that for certain. It’s not common for angels to get sick, right?”

“I am not sick. And no, angels never get sick.”

“Scrabs, you’re a mortal human now, and you can absolutely get sick.”

Scarab scoffed. “So after I am ‘all better’, then what? Just stay here?”

“We don’t have better options, do we?”

He hated to admit it, but Prismo had a point. If they left, they would likely be worse off. Who knew when they’d find another town, and what if they were less welcoming than the foolish ones in Moorestown?

Prismo put a hand on Scarab’s shoulder. “Look, I want to see what happens if we stay. And to these guys, we’re just normal people. I’m normal. I’ll help you with whatever you need but let’s just test the waters. Okay?”

“...fine.” Scarab pushed Prismo’s hand off after a moment.

“Thanks. Now let’s introduce you to the others. I’m sure they’re all dying to meet you.”

Chapter Text

“And here it is!” Mike said, swinging open an old rusty door.

Prismo and Scarab looked in, but the interior was too dark to make out much.

When the sun had begun to lower in the sky, Bonnie had decided to head home, Jake and Finn went back home for dinner, and Lady had gone back inside to help out her parents with the Inn. Mike, Prismo, and Scarab left the backyard to walk around town. The topic of a more permanent home was brought up by Prismo, to which they had all done some thinking (Scarab not included), and Mike had come up with an idea: there was an old cabin by his house that hadn’t been used in maybe fifty years. He was pretty sure it could be fixed up in a good amount of time, and the two could definitely live there. 

Mike went inside, moving around the old furniture with his foot and opening the curtains, the other two following suit. Scarab ran his finger along the fireplace mantle, a sheet of dust coming with it.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Mike said.

“Yeah! Oh, it’s got a kitchen. Hey Scrabs, look!” Prismo called from a doorway at the end of the room.

Scarab sighed and went over, pretty sure he couldn’t care less about a kitchen. The room was small, the linoleum dirty and the appliances coated in dust and cobwebs. He could certainly clean it up, but he didn’t know how he felt about helping out Prismo. They were accepting their circumstances too quickly. This was the start of defeat. After all, why have a permanent home when you’re going to get back to Heaven? 

“So, what do you guys think?” Mike asked, putting his arms around their shoulders.

“It’s awesome!” said Prismo.

“It’s awful,” Scarab said at the exact moment Prismo had spoken. Prismo glared at him. “...but I suppose it will do.”

“Nice,” Mike said, letting them go. Scarab could have sworn he gave him a nervous look. “So, uh, you guys can stay at my place while we fix it up if you want. I’m free most of the time so it wouldn’t take long. And- and I bet we can get the others in on it too!”

“What do you say, Scott?” Prismo flashed a smile at Scarab, who scoffed at the name.

“Ugh. Fine.”

…

“So do you want the couch or the air mattress?” Prismo asked Scarab, tossing him a pillow.

Scarab caught it with ease. “Couch, I suppose.” He wasn’t planning on sleeping, so he might as well take the less comfortable option. Wait, crap. That meant Prismo would get the nice option like the spoiled prince he is.

Mike had gone upstairs to sleep a while ago, leaving the other two to set up camp in the living room. The house was small, just a little bigger than the cabin, and decorated top to bottom in bird related items. 

Prismo switched off the light and laid down on the mattress. He covered himself in a blanket and stared at the ceiling. He raised his hand above his head, staring at the string. It shone perfectly in the darkness.

“Welp, that’s gonna bother me forever,” he said.

“I noticed it isn’t visible to mortals,” Scarab said from his perch on the couch.

“Probably for the best, huh? Like, how would we even explain that without sounding crazy?”

“True.”

“And it makes sense. My… my mom really didn’t want anything otherworldly to leak into the mortal world.”

“Yet she let you out here?”

“I think she just really wanted me gone.”

“Tsch.”

Silence fell on them like a heavy blanket. Stupid Prismo. He wanted to be here.

Prismo shifted slightly, and Scarab could see him looking at him in the vague moonlight. “Hey, could you do me a favor?”

“It depends.”

“I’m a pretty heavy sleeper, so could you like… wake me up tomorrow morning?”

“I suppose.”

“Thanks.” Prismo went back to staring at the ceiling. “Goodnight, Scrabby.”

Scarab grunted in response.

…

It was a long night. With the only other two people in the house being asleep, Scarab had to rely on himself for entertainment to pass the time. It wasn’t hard, considering how much of his existence had been spent doing exactly that, but without his staff or anything to destroy with it, he needed to think of new activities.

He flicked on a dim lamp and paced around the living room for a bit, going through Mike’s extensive collection of what he called ‘board games’, looking at the collection of feathers on the fireplace mantle that had been placed in a glass jar, or the books all piled in a corner of the room.

He picked up one of the books and flicked through it. It was boring, pages going on and on about owls and their different variations and wingspans. There was an illustration titled ‘Snowy Owl’, which had a striking resemblance to Evangeline. Even her smile looked like the beak of the owl. He quickly closed it and tossed it to the side, picking up another book to forget her .

None of them were particularly interesting to him, either being completely dull or finding a way to remind him of Heaven. It didn’t take long before he grew bored of sitting, going back to pacing quietly.

He walked by the window and caught sight of his reflection. In all honesty, he had hardly been able to look at himself this whole time. It was too strange, too foreign. He just stared at himself, the ridiculously human look of his face taunting him. 

He might never see a halo upon his head ever again. Everything he had once been proud of had been taken away from him. No halo, no wings, no mask, no staff. The Seraphim knew exactly what they were doing.

They had gotten tired of their little killing machine and thrown him away. After all, if he was being trouble for everyone, what was stopping them from just making a new toy when they needed it? He was replaceable and he had always been.

He needed a mirror. He needed to know if there was anything good somehow left. He rushed to the bathroom and stared into the mirror. This was a mistake. He looked even worse than the window had made it seem.

Everything about his face was just awful . It hadn’t changed much from his days in Heaven, but his eyes had gone from yellow to more of a green, his face ever so slightly pinker from the mortal blood inside it, and no halo to conveniently obscure whatever he didn’t want anyone to see.  The only thing that remained from his countless years as a soldier were the scars, which had mostly faded with time and were hard to spot unless you knew where to look. 

It was hard to believe someone had once said they loved this face. He was disgusting.

Nothing ever went in his favor, and he couldn’t decide if it was his fault or not. Either there was something wrong with everyone else in existence, or he was the issue. He didn’t want to consider that.

He went back to the living room before he could find a new flaw with his face, sitting down in the corner with the books again, reading through them and trying to ignore the tightness in his throat. His headache was coming back. 

Scarab stared at the string for the millionth time, watching it lead to Prismo, who slept peacefully, covered in three or four blankets. Scarab flipped him off before leaning against the wall and picking up a book again.

…

“Long hallway, huh?” Prismo said, giving Scarab a little nudge.

Scarab gave no response, the same neutral expression plastered on his face as they kept walking. The only indication that he had even heard Prismo was his hand forming into a fist.

They were in the Palace, wandering down the hall to find the key that would unlock their chains, allowing them to be free from each other.

Prismo made a few more attempts at starting a conversation, but Scarab continued to ignore him. 

The hallway only continued, the lights growing fainter and fainter. A small trail of sparkling black ichor decorated the otherwise spotless floor, leading up to a large pool of it.

The two stopped walking, staring at it in silence as a figure emerged from the depths of the inky blood. She snapped her head towards them, showing off a gash where an eye should have been and ichor running down her face and out of her mouth. There were a few glowing stars and yellow marigolds embedded in her matted pink hair, her dress in tatters.

“Hello Prismo!” Lillie said, her smile a little too wide to be normal.

“Lills? What happened to you?” Prismo asked, stepping forward and taking a reluctant Scarab with him.

“There was a bit of an accident with Mother and I. And I have to say, your departure has certainly caused complications for everyone. Wouldn’t you agree, Scarab?” she grabbed Prismo’s free wrist, her claws digging into his delicate human skin as she smiled at Scarab.

Prismo glanced from Lillie to Scarab, the latter of whom remained quiet. “What was –” 

“She was right, you know! You did ruin me. You ruined the only good thing in her life because you wanted to be different. But that’s okay! It’s better like this.” Lillie raised a shaking hand to point at Scarab. “And good luck surviving this one. I’ll see you after it’s all gone.”

He felt hands on him and a faint whispering as everything faded into nothing.

…

Prismo woke up to being nudged in the leg by a book. When he opened an eye, Scarab dropped the book and stood up.

“Finally,” Scarab said. “Up.”

“Good morning to you too,” Prismo said, stifling a yawn. He looked out the window, the sky a very dim pinkish-blue. “Dude, it’s really early.”

“You asked me to wake you up and I did.” Scarab sat down on the couch, his arms crossed.

“You just couldn’t wait to talk to me again, huh?” Prismo teased, flashing a grin at him before getting hit in the face with a pillow.

“I was merely done with waiting!”

Prismo laughed, but it subsided when he got a good look at Scarab’s face. He was irritated, that wasn’t new, but there were dark circles under his eyes and he was biting his inner lip hard.

“Are you okay?” Prismo asked. “You look like you didn’t sleep, like, at all .”

“I am perfectly fine, Prince ,” Scarab hissed. “I slept well enough.”

Prismo had heard Scarab insist he was ‘fine’ enough to know this was absolute bullshit. However, he also knew pressing him on the matter would not do anything to fix the situation. He needed to leave him be for now, but made a mental note to check on him later.

…

“What do you think, Scrabby? It’s pretty… uh, nice.”

“If ‘nice’ means absolutely hideous, then yes. It’s nice.”

“Aw, come on! It’s not too bad.”

“No, no, hold on. It looks just like you, actually,” Scarab said, smirking.

“ Excuse me?” 

Mike had decided to drive Prismo, Scarab, and Jake out to the city to find a good thrift store. They were all pitching in to fix up the cabin and get a few pieces of furniture for it. Well, more like Prismo, Jake, and Mike were pitching in. Scarab was just kind of there, unwilling to do anything because of his exhaustion and sheer stubbornness.

Prismo had just presented Scarab with an obnoxiously teal couch, the floral pattern on it just adding to the unsightliness of it all. The worst part, though, was that it actually looked somewhat comfortable.

Scarab was vaguely aware of the others coming over, talking about the items they had found and the costs and everything. He attempted to rub the fatigue from his eyes, but if anything it only made it worse.

He bit his lip, the sensation enough to keep him awake. Mortals really were weak if they couldn’t go a full day without getting tired. His hands ached for the familiarity of his staff, an item he knew would have been able to keep him grounded.

Without a word, he went off to look at the selection of books in the store. Most of them were worn with age and cheaply bound, but he was able to find a few interesting fantasy stories. Finally, a decent escape from the inconvenience of mortal life. 

…

First things first, get a light on in here, Mike thought, surveying the old cabin. He took an unused lamp from his house and plugged it in, the warm light illuminating the old dusty interior of the building.

God knows how long it’s been since he had a project like this to do. He thought back. It had to have been when he and Oren were building the treehouse…

“So, what’s next?” Prince asked, standing beside him.

“Definitely dusting. And sweeping.”

“Good idea,” Prince grabbed a broom. “Hey Scott, mind helping out?”

Scott was sitting outside on what had been dubbed The Ugliest Couch Known to Man, reading a book he’d gotten from the thrift store. He looked up, glaring at the two for a moment before looking away again. 

“...fine,” he said, getting a rag and a spray bottle.

Scott was certainly a character. He hardly talked to anyone besides Prince, and even then it was always something hostile. He dressed in all red at all times and constantly reached for things that weren’t there, like he hadn’t yet adjusted to the absence of… something. Mike had no clue how to talk to him, but he couldn't help but want to. He was scary, yes, but intriguing.

Mike wanted to know exactly why Prince and Scott always stuck together, where they had come from, what had happened to them. 

Prince seemed to quickly adjust to his new life and friends, always ready to laugh and have a good time. He fit in perfectly with the group. But Scott was the opposite. He always paced around like he needed to be ready to leave at any moment, not willing to engage in any sort of friendly socializing. 

Yet the two were attached at the hip. He couldn’t tell if they hated each other or not.

As they cleaned, Mike made eye contact with Scott and smiled, trying not to look nervous. He had to admit, Scott was a little scary. 

Perhaps he was imagining it, but he could’ve sworn Scott’s harsh expression softened a little. Maybe, just maybe, befriending this guy wouldn’t be as impossible as he thought.

Chapter Text

On the family’s list of rules, the most important ones were as follows: don’t interact with sinners, leave the castle only when you absolutely need to, and never use each other for wishes. 

If someone wanted a wish, you literally could not tell them no (unless, of course, it violated the traditional wish-making rules). If you tried to deny them their wish, that would only make things more painful for you. 

Mother had learned this the hard way, after millenia of figuring out the strange magic she had been blessed with during Creation. When Prismo came along, she figured she could just use him for anything she wanted. That quickly spiraled down into a ton of family issues Lillie didn’t want to get into.

Of course, you could grant the wish in any way you wanted, supernatural or not. For example, if someone said: “I wish I had a glass of water”, you could just go get them one, instead of conjuring it out of thin air. Whichever you felt like.

Lillie never requested wishes. It was cheating at life, as she liked to say. After all, if you could have anything at your fingertips, it made life dull. Unfortunately, even without the wishes she already had pretty much anything you could ask for. Nice clothes, good food, a comfortable bedroom, plenty of books, painting supplies, musical instruments. It was all there.

She craved excitement. Thrill. Secrecy.

For as long as she had been alive, Mother had been strict about when she was allowed to interact with her brother. She claimed he was a bad influence and would only encourage her to do bad things.

For countless years, they would sneak into various places of the castle to play games together, study, or just talk. They had memorized the sound of Mother’s approaching footsteps. Something about almost getting caught made Lillie feel just a little more like a normal adolescent.

Lillie was not familiar with the feeling of anger. It was like her brain had been specifically wired to never get angry. But for the first time she was beginning to feel it soak into her flesh, anger at both her brother and Mother. Prismo couldn’t just leave her like that, without even telling her he was planning it! And the fact that Mother had been so pleased and ready to grant his wish, like she had also planned this.

It was supposed to be a fun night.

She was going to see angels for the first time ever , she got to wear a fun dress, and she was going to sneak out some food for her brother to eat with him in the garden.

Instead, Mother pretended like she had never had a son, the Seraphim had spoken to her about something that was clearly troubling them, likely involving Prismo, and Lillie just sat on the side, watching the various important people of Heaven and Hell speak cordially to one another.

She couldn’t focus on anything but Prismo. She wasn’t even allowed to say goodbye to him. How dare they? Was she not the Princess of Hell? If she wanted to see her brother, she should have every right to!

The next week was spent searching through the library and even Mother’s study for anything that could possibly bring her back in contact with Prismo. She at least needed to know if he was okay. Maybe say goodbye this time.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t found anything yet. And she could’ve sworn every time she got close, Mother would show up. When Mother asked what she was doing, she would always tell her she was studying.

Being a young adult and the Princess of Hell with nothing to do, especially after your only companion leaves, learning, reading, and studying mortals and angels are kind of the only things you can really do. That and playing instruments, but that hurts your fingers after a while.

Lillie pushed open the door to Mother’s study, her footsteps soft as she crept in. Mother was supposed to be in the city today, giving Lillie the perfect opportunity to find what she was looking for.

The bookshelf had no real sense of organization, trinkets placed here and there, on top of the books and in front of them. The middle shelf was unsteady and if the balance was upset, it would fall down.

She skimmed through the titles for a few minutes until she came upon one that caught her eye. Transportation Magic/Spells . It looked more like a thick notebook, written by Mother to keep tabs on one of her powers. Carefully, Lillie pulled it out and placed a golden hourglass in front of the gap.

She tucked the book in her jacket and ran as fast as she could back to her room without seeming suspicious. 

She locked the door behind her and hopped onto her bed, leafing through the book until… ah, there it was. Possibly the exact spell Mother used to send Prismo to the mortal realm. 

Finally, she was doing something exciting again! And maybe her connection with Prismo was making her a disobedient child, but who the hell cares? Mother had been unfair to her son for far too long. Lillie just needed to make sure she didn’t get caught, at least until she figured out how to get to the mortal realm and back safely.

And how hard could that be?

…

“Ooh, does it still hurt?” Evangeline said, poking at where she knew the injury was.

“Ow– yes, it does! Don’t mess with it!” Haniel said, swatting her hand away. “It will heal faster if you’re not constantly opening it again!”

“That’s what you get for messing with him, you silly! If you’d just waited , he would’ve been gone and you would have never gotten stabbed!”

“I guess , but I just couldn’t resist, you know?” Haniel said, curling a lock of their hair around their finger. “Still, good riddance.”

Evangeline tossed her empty coffee cup in the trash and took Haniel’s. “I watched him while they were putting him under that curse, by the way. Did I tell you that? I don’t think I did.”

“Oh really?” Haniel leaned back in their chair.

“He was all sleepy – they drugged him, right? – and they were chatting with the Queen of Hell herself about his punishment! I left before this part, but I heard they put a weird ring looking thing on him.”

“Ring?”

“Yeah yeah, that’s the curse! Tied him to a demon, maybe. Magic string stuff. You know what I’m talking about, right? Best part is, he would totally hate that!” Evangeline giggled, her wings fluttering.

“Interesting.”

“It’s too bad we’re still at peace with Hell. I mean, I would love to see Scarab’s replacement! But I guess they don’t need soldiers so… eh.”

Haniel nodded, staring into space as they thought about how to present this question properly. “Did they… did you see his face at all?”

“You bet! Right after they’d gotten rid of his halo, they took his mask off. Still as cute as it was when we all first met!” she grinned. “Why do you wanna know?”

“I think about him sometimes,”

“Who doesn’t, honestly?” Evangeline threw away the second cup of coffee and stood up. “Okay, let’s go!”

…

It had been about a week since ‘The Incident’. 

The Seraphim kept it as quiet as possible, but word still leaked out thanks to Evangeline. Everywhere Haniel went, there were whispers from Saints and angels about what had happened to them. They couldn’t help but feel proud that they had started the first interesting event to happen in Heaven in a century. They had to admit, with no war going on, there was much less to do. But still! They had moved on! They had moved on from everything .

They made a big deal out of it for the first few days, just to make sure Scarab got a good punishment and that everyone knew how bad he was. It was a decent revenge, honestly. Not their best work, but still.

Haniel’s apartment was dim, the curtains drawn and the TV being the only light source. A boring documentary played on low volume, Evangeline’s head resting on Haniel’s shoulder as she cooed in her sleep. They carefully lifted her up from them, got off the couch, and let her lay down, covering her in that fluffy white blanket she always stole from them whenever she came over.

No matter what they did, one thought never left their mind. A thought they wanted gone, but at the same time… they didn’t.

They went to their room, cursing themself before opening their closet and taking out a dusty box at the top of the shelf. 

They rummaged through the box until they found what they were looking for. A picture from the ‘good old days’. Scarab was in the middle, maskless and standing awkwardly, gripping his staff tight like he didn’t know what else to do with his hands. A faint golden blush was visible on his cheeks. Evangeline was to his right, an arm resting on his shoulder as she grinned and flipped off the camera. And Haniel… they had leaned in close to Scarab right before the picture was taken, their lips so close to his face, ready to make the move for the picture–

Okay, enough torture. Haniel shuddered, throwing everything back into the box and putting it back where it belonged. 

They had been known as an unstoppable trio, all of them created for this in one way or another. Able to slaughter anyone that stood in their way.

Everyone either loved them or feared them. And all that had crumbled when Scarab–

“What’re you doing?” Evangeline said, standing in the doorway with the blanket around her shoulders. “You look so pissed right now. Are you making yourself pissed on purpose?”

Haniel sighed. “I’m fine, Ev.”

She smirked. “Ha! You sound just like Scarab.”

“Damn, I forgot he did that,” Haniel said, a small chuckle escaping him.

“Let’s go back to the couch. I have a new show I think we should watch. It’s either going to be really good or absolute garbage!”

“Yeah, okay. Whatever you want, dear,” Haniel cooed.

“Sweet!” 

Chapter Text

Eight days.

It had been eight days since being attached to Prismo and stuck in this awful body.

Scarab paced around the cabin, nails digging into his arms as he planned out his return to Heaven. He was attempting to train his body to get back to his original strength, sleeping less and less until he was used to it again. He was on a three day streak and was rather proud of it. Small victories.

“You good?” Prismo asked, momentarily pausing from cleaning a window.

“Yes,” Scarab said, his grip on his arms tightening. He was sick of Prismo asking him that.

“Something’s bothering you, Scrabby. We could… talk about it, if you want.”

“No.”

Prismo opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, shook his head, and sighed. “... You know, you don’t have to stay here with me. You can walk off as far as the string will allow you.”

Scarab stopped pacing. Prismo was right. He wasn’t obligated to stay near him every hour of the day! Without a word, he took off for Moorestown, ignoring Prismo’s “See you later!” and heading down the road.

In town, there were small shops lined on either side of the road, mortals going about their day to buy a useless something or other. A few paused their conversations to not-so-subtly watch Scarab go by.

He was used to the feeling of all eyes being on him. The demons cowering in fear as he was about to finish them off, his fellow soldiers ready for The Scarab to make a final move, Saints peeking out of their windows to get a glimpse of him, angels watching as he yelled at Haniel or Evangeline. While he had once been proud to be the center of attention, it had quickly lost its appeal and only made his skin crawl.

With every step he took, he was painfully reminded of the aching in his legs. The longer he walked on them, the more he noticed them hurting. He had discovered this one long night of pacing around Mike’s living room for hours. His legs hurt to put direct weight on and there was a dull pain from walking. No matter how much he rested, it wouldn’t go away. For what was probably the hundredth time, he wished he had his staff or his wings back.

“Scott!”

Scarab almost jumped. That was his name. His stupid mortal name.

To his left was a small bookstore, the door painted purple. Someone had just left it, a colorful bag full of books around her shoulder. Her cardigan was missing today, probably on account of the warm weather, rainbow bracelets decorating her wrists. Lady smiled warmly.

“Nice to see you again,” she said, joining him on his walk.

Scarab nodded, unsure of how to approach this situation. Did she want something from him?

“I heard Mike’s letting you stay at his place for a while?”

“Yes. But only until our own living space is fixed.”

“Oh?”

“There’s a cabin on Mike’s property that hasn’t been occupied in a long time, apparently. He and Prince are repairing it and getting new furniture.”

“Are you helping too?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Scarab bit his lip. “It… it feels too permanent.”

“Are you not planning on staying?” Lady asked. It was a genuine question, not a ‘I’m guilt tripping you into staying because I don’t want you to leave me’.

“I’d prefer not to, but I think Prince has his heart set on staying here forever.”

“What’s stopping you from leaving on your own?”

Scarab tried to come up with a good answer, but settled on: “It’s complicated.”

“I see.” Lady nodded. She adjusted her bag and smiled at him again. “Well, do you want to get some ice cream with me?” 

One thing that angels and mortals had in common was the ritual of getting something to eat or drink with a companion whose company they enjoyed. But Lady hardly knew Scarab. This was one of the first times they’d spoken to each other. Scarab had purposefully been cold and distant from everyone. So why was he worthy of this friendly ritual?

“... alright.” Scarab glanced at the string. If he went much further in the opposite direction of Prismo, it’d stop him from walking.

Fortunately, wherever Lady was taking him was loosening the string. They went to a store with a painted sign above it that read ‘Aunt Molly’s Candy Kingdom: Baked Goods, Sweet Treats, and More’. A little bell jingled as they went in.

The interior was decorated with mostly pinks and whites, a few round tables and chairs placed on the side. Bonnie was working behind the counter, talking to someone who was leaning against the wall and laughing as she ate a red lollipop.

“Marcy, stop! Customers!” Bonnie said, her expression changing to a sweet smile once she turned to Lady and Scarab. “Hello, there! What can I get you today?”

…

“Oh my gosh, really? You’ve never had ice cream before? Ever?”

Scarab shrugged. “I have been with others while they got it for themselves, but I could never be bothered to try it.”

“Do you like it?”

Scarab considered his cup of strawberry ice cream for a moment. “Yes. It melts too fast, though.”

Lady smiled. “Yeah, for sure.” She ate a spoonful from her scoop of vanilla. “So how long have you and Prince known each other?”

“Eight days.”

“Woah, woah, wait. Really? I could have sworn…”

“Prince and I are not friends, we are merely stuck in a circumstance together.”

“The way he talks about you, I thought you guys were close. He really seems to like you.”

“I doubt it. He’s probably compensating.”

“Compensating?”

“Prince is part of the reason I’m in this mess.”

“And the other part?”

“... I was provoked.”

“Hm. I see.”

Scarab poked his ice cream with his spoon. “I suppose in the end it was partially my fault I’m even here.”

Lady put a hand on his shoulder. “Regardless, just know we’re glad to have you here, okay?”

“I doubt that. I think Mike is scared of me,” Scarab frowned. “I’m not complaining, though. I should be scary.”

Lady laughed and tilted her head to meet Scarab’s eyes. “ I’m glad you’re here.”

Scarab looked away. “Why?”

“You’re mysterious and interesting. You make me want to get to know you more.”

“Again, why? How?”

Lady considered this for a moment. “I dunno. You’re just cool! I don’t need a list of reasons to like someone’s company.”

Scarab didn’t respond, instead choosing to mull this thought around in his head. Perhaps he could enjoy the company of a mortal without reason, the way Lady was doing for him right now. She would definitely have a wonderful place in Heaven.

He stood up. “I think I should go. This was nice.”

Lady smiled up at him. “Alright. See you. We should do this again, maybe invite Mike?” she teased.

“Perhaps,” Scarab said, the corners of his mouth turning upwards ever so slightly. “Goodbye.”

…

He was not going back to Prismo yet.

Before he had gotten too far on his journey back to the cabin, an idea had struck him.

All of the Boss’s devoted followers gathered together one day every week to worship, praise, and preach on their interpretations of an old book. They gathered in a special building, one that was found practically everywhere. So, if Scarab was correct, what he was looking for should be somewhere nearby.

He had been thinking of how he was going to make his return back home. He had considered looking for a spellbook, until he realized those were not widely available to the public and much less mortals . Another option was to kill his mortal body and let his soul ascend, but if he did that he would likely end up as a normal Saint instead of an angel, or worse, he would end up in Hell.

Just as his legs were beginning to get obnoxiously painful, he found exactly what he was looking for.

‘Moorestown Baptist Church’.

As he tried to move closer to get a better look, the string stopped him. He briefly thought about flipping it off, but that would definitely look strange to any onlookers.

The other end of the string gave a gentle tug and Scarab relented, following it back home.

…

“You were gone for longer than expected. What did you do?”

“We’re going to church on Sunday.”

Prismo blinked, staring at Scarab as he came in through the door. “Wait, we’re what ?”

It had been maybe an hour or two since Scarab had bolted out the door, leaving Prismo to continue cleaning the absolute mess that was the cabin until his return.

“I found a church and I need to go for research purposes. I would say you could stay behind, but the string isn’t long enough for that.” Scarab sat down on the couch. “It would just be easier for the both of us to go.”

“... You do realize you’re asking a fucking demon to go to church?”

“And you’re asking a fucking angel to live as a human and pretend like I’m fine with it.”

Damn, that was fair. Prismo didn’t want to argue with that. It was the least he could do for Scarab. “Okay. I’ll go.”

“Good.”

Prismo sat next to Scarab. “So, what are you researching?”

“I need to know how to get back into Heaven and regain my status as an angel.”

“And church is gonna help how ?”

“It’s the only option I have right now,” Scarab said, glaring at Prismo. “Maybe it will point me in the right direction.”

Prismo leaned back on the couch, staring at the ever-glowing blue of the string. His eyes followed it all the way to Scarab’s pale hand, his nails digging into the soft skin of his arm.

“I miss home too,” Prismo said softly.

“Oh really ?” Scarab said, the sarcasm in his tone obvious.

“Yeah, really. There are some things I never want to see or experience ever again, but… it’s hard not to miss the place you grew up in, no matter how awful it was to you.”

Scarab didn’t respond, instead choosing to stare at the wall opposite them.

“I’m… I’m really sorry about all of this. You didn’t want any of this to happen.”

“No I didn’t,” Scarab replied.

They lapsed into silence. 

At some point, Scarab’s form relaxed and his breathing became soft and slow. He must have been more exhausted than he let on. His head rested on the back of the couch, his hand still having a slight grip on his arm.

“Scrabby?” Prismo whispered. 

No response. He was asleep.

…

He was being carried somewhere. Beyond that, he didn’t know much.

Scarab’s first thought was that he was being held by Haniel, but something in his mind told him that wasn’t right. Maybe it was Evangeline.

Whoever it was, they were warm and it had been so long since he had been held this gently and he was so tired. 

His mind drifted back and forth between reality and dreams, his eyelids too heavy to open. He leaned into the touch and let sleep reclaim him.

…

“You didn’t strike me as the religious type,” Mike said, gazing out at the pastures from his perch on the swinging bench.

“I’m not! I don’t think Scott is either!” Prismo said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I think he just wants to check it out but like… I’ve never been to church, I don’t know what to do!”

Inside, Scarab was asleep on the air mattress and covered in a blanket. Once Prismo had set him down, he immediately grabbed Mike and took him outside to talk about Scarab’s whole idea about visiting the church. 

“Why do you have to go?”

“I dunno, he just… wants me with him, I guess,” Prismo shrugged.

“Well I’m sure you’ll be fine. One of my friends actually works there, maybe you’ll meet ‘im.”

“Jeez, you’ve got a lot of friends,”

“We all grew up together, I can’t help it!”

“What’s his name?”

“Oren. I bet he’d like you guys.”

“Even Scott?”

“Oh yeah. Definitely.”

Prismo smiled. “That’s good, at least.” He leaned against the porch railing, the sunlight just barely hitting his fingertips. “Now. Educate me on how to go to church without getting kicked out.”

…

Sunday morning came around quicker than they anticipated.

The service started at 9:30, which was way too early for Prismo apparently , but Scarab relentlessly bothered him about it until he woke up.

Mortals gathered into the pews, wearing their best clothes and holding bibles. They greeted each other with hugs and smiles, but ignored Scarab and Prismo, much to Scarab’s relief. He was not in the mood to be spoken to by a stranger. If anything, they gave him and Prismo weird looks.

They chose a pew in the back, away from everyone but still able to get a good view of the pulpit and the decorations scattered around the room. There were crucifixes on the walls, fake flowers in glass vases, and a few small statues of pathetic mortal interpretations of angels.

Prismo fidgeted with his hands and his jacket, unable to stand still during the worship segment of the service.

The worship made Scarab roll his eyes. As if the Boss needs any more of that…

When they were finally allowed to sit, Scarab’s legs beginning the annoyingly familiar ache, the real service began. Scarab followed along with the reading, a Bible tucked into the back of the pew in front of him available. It was a boring lesson on kindness, and he lost interest quickly. If it weren’t for his need to research, he would tune it all out. Prismo tapped at his knuckles.

But so far, this lead was a dead end.

Prismo’s constant fidgeting with his hands was starting to drive Scarab crazy. Without thinking about it too hard, he put his hand on Prismo’s. Hopefully that would get him to stop.

It worked almost immediately, Prismo’s shock at the contact amusing. Scarab gave Prismo a look that he hoped communicated ‘stay still’, and began to remove his hand until Prismo’s hand twitched and he glanced at Scarab.

Cursing himself internally, he intertwined his fingers with Prismo’s. If this was what it took to keep him calm and still, this is what he was going to do.

When service was over, it was clear that it would hold no useful information to him. He was quick to get him and Prismo out of there, trailing behind the crowd of churchgoers that were ready to go home.

Mike was waiting outside for them, perched on a stone wall that surrounded half the building. “How was it?” he asked, glancing down at Prismo and Scarab’s hands.

Upon the realization that he was still holding onto Prismo, Scarab was quick to let go.

“It was… mediocre ,” Scarab said, crossing his arms.

“That sucks. Oh, wait!” Mike hopped off of the stone wall, looking at someone behind them. “There’s Oren! I’ll go get him!”

Scarab scoffed as Mike rushed past them. He looked at Prismo. “You certainly didn’t enjoy it,”

“It was fine, don’t get me wrong!” Prismo said. “Just… you know. It felt a little weird.” He made a little gesture that Scarab had no idea how to interpret.

“Guys!” Mike came back, bringing someone with him. “This is Oren!”

Oren smiled, the expression strained. He had neatly combed hair and a pair of sunglasses on. Scarab recognized him as one of the mortals sitting up in the front during service. He had kept the sunglasses on inside and he didn’t look all too happy to be there.

“Oren, this is Prince and this is Scott.”

“The new guys,” Oren nodded. “Nice to meet ya!”

He smiled again, a little more relaxed this time, and shook their hands. As Scarab met his gaze, he knew something was up. This mortal knew something important. Oren could be his new lead.

Chapter Text

It had been a quiet night at Moorestown Baptist Church. The young adult’s ministry had had a bible study that evening, and Oren had stayed behind to clean up.

It had been ten years since he had last prayed. Despite growing up in the church his whole life, being baptized when he was too young to remember, always volunteering to help out with the ministries, and participating in every event his father came up with, he had stopped believing. 

He found his gaze wandering to the crucifix that was on the wall behind the pulpit. He sighed, set down his broom, and walked up to it. Almost unsure of what to do, he knelt down in front of it and put his hands together, closing his eyes.

“Um… hey, God. If you’re out there.” Crap, what was he saying? “Look, I really don’t know if you’re real but if you are, a sign would be nice, you know?”

Oren didn’t expect anything to happen. So when he was met with silence, he sighed and began standing up. He was quickly brought back to his knees as the air in his lungs quickly vanished. He coughed, a strange substance coming out of his mouth. He stared at it as it got on his hands. It was a thick, golden and sparkling liquid, and it pooled onto the ground as he continued choking.

After a few more seconds, he was finally allowed to breathe again. The golden stuff was smudged on his fingers and the wooden floor. It began to glow, a mist-like apparition forming from it. It took the form of a creature not unlike a person, only a multitude of eyes appeared on the inside of what looked like their hair. They all stared down at Oren as the creature laughed, stretching out their soft white wings.

“Oh my goodness, it actually worked!” they smiled, curling a lock of hair around their fingers.

Oren stared up at them, wiping the golden stuff on his chin. “What the heck are –”

“Be not afraid, Oren!” they said. “Ha, I’ve always wanted to say that…”

“You know my name? You– you’re real ?”

They smirked. “Oh, yes. Quite real. I’ve been keeping an eye on you for a few days. I have something I need you to do for me.”

“What? I– I don’t know if I trust that.”

“Oh please , of course you can trust me. I am Haniel, an angel sent from Heaven to give you a mission!”

“Look, mate, I dunno about this –”

“Really? Because I happen to recall that minute ago, you said you wanted a sign. And I am here to tell you that this is it.”

“It’s a very vague sign,”

“Then allow me to explain!” They clapped their hands together. “So. We’ve run into a bit of trouble in Heaven and we’ve sent an angel to live here as a punishment. Unfortunately, that was a mistake and they want him back up here! If I’m correct, he should be somewhat near your location. I’d like you to keep me posted if you think you see him!”

“And how will I know who he is..?”

“He always looks pissed, if that’s anything. Grayish-blue hair. Short. He likes the color red. And he’ll probably be with someone else.”

Oren thought about this. “Well, I’ve never seen anyone like this before.”

“I’m sure you will soon!” Haniel put their hands on their hips. “Anyways, I have dinner with someone so I gotta go. Bye.” They snapped their fingers and vanished. In a blink, the golden stuff was gone.

What the hell?

…

It was rare for the Seraphim to be in trouble.

After all, they were the Seraphim . God’s best angels. They were trusted with the creation of angels and managing them.

However, it wasn’t the wisest move to banish their killer angel to the mortal realm as punishment. There were a few options they could have settled for instead, such as removing his memories and reprogramming his mind, but when the Queen of Hell contacted them with means to punish her own spawn, it seemed like a perfect opportunity.

And of course, since the Seraphim were already drowning in the rest of their work, they had spoken to Haniel. After all, Haniel had known Scarab since the very beginning. They knew his weaknesses. They knew how to take care of him.

The Seraphims’ request seemed simple enough: find a way to get him back to Heaven for a reprogramming, preferably without using portals so no mortals got in or out. 

Haniel was still working on the details of their plan, but in the meantime they needed a spy to keep track of Scarab. That’s where Oren came in.

Haniel had been able to find the location of where Scarab had been sent, looking for any vulnerable mortals in the vicinity. That’s where he had found Oren, the child of a pastor who had been looking for a sign from Heaven. When he finally prayed, this gave Haniel the best opportunity to contact him.

Contacting mortals was something Haniel had never been able to do before. The experience was strange but oh man, the look on the mortal’s face when they appeared was priceless. They should do it more often.

Haniel shook their head, eyes blinking as their mind returned to their body up in Heaven. Now that that was done, it was time for them to get ready. They had a dinner date with Evangeline, after all.

It was dark out, a simulated nighttime for the comfort of the Saints, all of whom preferred the day cycle they had back in the mortal realm when they were still alive. It also encouraged the angels to sleep more, a habit Haniel still had to work on. It was a current theory that regular sleep helped angels to be less irritable and think rationally. Haniel wondered who that was directed to.

Opening the front door, Evangeline was standing outside the apartment with a grin on her face.

“Well hello!” she said, grabbing their hand. “I figured we’d walk there together. It’ll be nice.”

“Sounds good,” Haniel said, giving her hand an idle squeeze.

The weather was nice out. It always was. The halos atop their heads provided a warm glow that lit their path where the streetlights of the city didn’t reach. The diner wasn’t too long of a walk, even shorter if you flew, but Haniel was content to go slowly with Evangeline.

As she rambled on about the mild gossip of other angels, Haniel heard something. It sounded like a shout and a thud.

“Evs, wait. I heard something.” Haniel put their hand in front of Evangeline to stop her from walking.

Haniel poked his head into the alleyway, where the sound had originated from. The light shone onto the form of a girl, standing with a grip on the wall like she was trying not to slip. A few bags of trash littered the alleyway. She had likely tripped on them. 

The first thing Haniel noticed about her was that horns adorned her head. Black ones, with a few rings on them. Her tail curled around her leg as she stared at the couple, smiling apologetically.

“Um… whoops.” The girl looked down at the book she clutched in her arms. “My mistake. Wrong place. I’ll just…” she opened the book, flicking through the pages.

“Holy shit, a demon!” Evangeline exclaimed, letting go of Haniel and running to examine the newcomer.

She flinched. “I’m leaving, I didn’t mean to –”

“Haniel, she’s beautiful! Like, the most beautiful demon I’ve ever seen… I think .” Evangeline poked at her cheek.

“You’re not gonna… kill me, are you?”

Haniel rolled his eyes. “No, there’s the peace treaty and all, but–” they pulled out their sword, which lengthened once allowed to breathe– “I have every right to ask you what you’re doing in a realm you don’t belong.”

She swallowed. “It– it was a mistake! I meant to go somewhere else but my spell got messed up and–”

Evangeline took the book from her. “Ooh, it’s a spellbook. A really advanced one.” She skimmed through it before slamming it shut and looking at the front cover. “Dude, where did you get this?”

“My mom.” The girl took it back. “Please, let me go, I won’t return! I promise.”

Haniel raised an eyebrow. “Who are you?”

“I’m Lillie, the Princess of Hell…” she muttered the last part, as if embarrassed of the title.

“No way. You can grant wishes, right? Can you grant one of mine?” Evangeline asked.

“Evs, not now,” Haniel said. “Where were you intending to go, Lillie ?”

Lillie looked away, her grip on the spellbook tightening. “You won’t tell anyone, right?”

“Not a soul,” Haniel replied.

“My brother is in the mortal realm. I really wanted to see him again–”

“Wait. The mortal realm?”

“Yes. He wished to leave, and I overheard that my mother had him permanently tied to an angel as punishment. I didn’t get to say goodbye to him, so…”

“Scrabby’s stuck with the Prince of Hell ?” Evangeline said.

“Is that the angel? Do you know them?”

“Oh I know him alright,” Haniel said. They put away their sword. “Tell you what. The Boss doesn’t want an angel and demon wandering around the mortal realm, so it’s my job to take care of it and get them back without interfering with too many mortals. If you have access to more of these… off-limits spells, it could benefit the both of us. Would you be willing to work with me?”

Lillie blinked. “So, I’ll be able to get my brother back?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then yes. I’ll work with you.”

Haniel shook Lillie’s hand, noting her shakiness.

“I have to go before Mother notices I’m gone… I’ll stay in contact with you, okay?” Lillie said, backing away from them.

“Sounds good,” Haniel said.

“Okay. And please don’t tell anyone I was here.”

“We won’t! That’s a promise!” Evangeline said, putting her arm around Haniel and winking at Lillie. 

“Could you, um, leave..? I don’t want any distractions with this spell. It might mess things up,” Lillie said.

“Sure,” Haniel said. “Come on, Evs, let’s get dinner.”

…

To say it had been a while since Oren had seen Mike would be an understatement.

It had been exactly six months and five days since Oren had last seen his old friend, and he had to admit it was on purpose. Unfortunately, it’s impossible to avoid someone forever if you live in the same small town.

“Oren! Hey!” Mike seemingly came out of nowhere, waving excitedly. Clearly he’d been waiting outside the church for the sermon to be over.

Oren jumped, the mere sight of him making his heart feel weird. Before he could even process what was happening, Mike hugged him.

“Hey, mate!” Oren said, laughing awkwardly.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Mike grinned. “Ah, that’s probably my bad. Getting distracted with… everything. Anyways, I have some new friends I want you to meet! You want to?”

“Oh, uh, sure.”

“Cool!” Mike grabbed Oren’s hand and led him away, Oren feeling his face get warm at the contact.

Oren had noticed Mike’s ‘new friends’ in church. Both of them had looked like they weren’t having a good time, at least until they started holding hands.

“Guys! This is Oren!” Mike said, squeezing Oren’s hand. Oren smiled, feeling his heart rate quicken. Dammit Mike. “Oren, this is Prince and this is Scott.”

“The new guys,” he nodded. “Nice to meet ya!”

He shook their hands, his mind quieting down once the contact with Mike was gone. Scott stared at Oren, like he had something he wanted.

Oren looked Scott up and down. He looked pissed, he had grayish-blue hair, he was wearing all red, he was somewhat short… oh god. Yep. This was an angel, apparently.

Mike put an arm around Oren’s shoulder. “Sooo… I had an idea. We could all hang out at my place, have some dinner, maybe play some board games?” He grinned as he leaned on Oren.

Oh gosh, this was a lot. But Oren hadn’t seen his best friend in months, so what the heck? He could take it. Maybe he could even talk to Scott to get a better understanding of the situation.

Oren nodded, feeling his hands shaking. “Sounds awesome, mate!”

…

It had been a calm night for them. Mike got pizza, and they played board games for a few hours. Scarab had been quite competitive, and Prismo had to admit that he was letting Scarab win sometimes out of pity. Oren tried to strike up some conversation with Scarab, who was surprisingly eager to talk to him. It went well.

When Oren left and Scarab had retreated to the corner to read a book, Mike grabbed Prismo and took him into the kitchen.

“You good, dude?” Prismo asked, seeing the panicked look on Mike’s face.

“No! So like, it’s been a while since I’ve seen Oren. Like, five months, maybe six, and it’s totally my fault! I’ve been so busy with other stuff in my life that I haven’t talked to my best friend in half a year!” Mike said, pacing around the room.

“Life happens, Mike. I’m sure it’s okay.”

“No it’s not! And you know the worst part?”

“Uh–”

“Hanging out with him today made me realize my crush on him is back!” Mike ran a hand through his hair, waving the other around irrationally. “But I can’t tell him!”

“Why not?”

“He works at the church ! I don’t know how he’d feel about another guy liking him…” Mike groaned. “Agh, I hate this! It’s high school all over again. We went to the same school together for a few years and I had a thing for him for so long… I thought I was over him!”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Shit, I don’t know! Do you have any dating advice?”

Prismo shrugged. “I’ve never dated anyone, so I dunno about that.”

Mike stopped. “Wait, really ? You’re not–” he sighed. “You know what? I’ll think about this later. Some sleep would be good for this, right?”

“Yeah, sleep is good.”

“Then sleep it is! I’ll talk to Oren eventually!” Mike left the kitchen, but poked his head back into the doorframe. “Thanks, by the way. For listening. Goodnight.”

“Night,” Prismo said.

Back in the living room, Scarab was sitting in a corner with all the books. When Prismo came in, he stuck a bookmark into it and shut it, glancing up at him.

“You get the mattress tonight, right?” Prismo asked, sitting on the couch.

“You can have it if you want,” Scarab replied.

Prismo stared at him for a moment. He insisted Prismo take the mattress more often than not, and Prismo was beginning to suspect these were nights Scarab wasn’t getting any sleep.

“Nah, you take it.”

Scarab glanced at the mattress. “Are you sure ?”

“Yep. You need sleep, Scrabby.”

“I do get sleep.”

“Then take the mattress.”

“Ugh. Fine.” Scarab set down his book and crawled onto the air mattress, piling the blankets atop himself. He crossed his arms, looking up at Prismo. “Happy?”

“Yes. Goodnight, Scrabs.” Prismo turned off the light and laid down on the couch.

He wasn’t going to sleep just yet. He needed to make sure Scarab fell asleep before him. As the minutes went by, he could hear Scarab shifting around, mumbling to himself.

Prismo got up and sat down next to him. Scarab didn’t acknowledge him until Prismo put his hand on his.

“What are you doing?” Scarab said, distracted enough to stop moving.

“Same thing you did for me earlier, dumbass,” Prismo said, grinning.

Scarab scoffed, staring at the ceiling instead of at Prismo, but keeping his hand right where it was. “Why?”

“I’m not leaving you alone until you fall asleep.”

“You idiot, I won’t be able to sleep with you gripping my hand like that. It’s distracting.”

“Oh is it, now?”

“Yes!”

“I’m still sticking to my word.”

Scarab sighed, glaring at Prismo but not protesting the contact. “It’ll be uncomfortable for you to stay like this. I might take a long time to fall asleep.”

“Alright then, move over.”

“What?”

“Move over. It’ll be more comfortable for both of us if I lay next to you.”

“You’re such an idiot, you know,” Scarab said, moving over.

Prismo laid next to Scarab, who immediately grabbed his hand and intertwined their fingers.

“Yeah, I know that,” Prismo said. “You never let me forget,”

“And I never will,” Scarab said.

“Goodnight, Scrabby,”

“... Goodnight, Prismo.”

Chapter Text

Prismo was very warm, Scarab had realized.

For some stupid reason, holding hands with Prismo did help him fall asleep.

He woke up early enough that the sun hadn’t risen. The living room was just an inky void of darkness. In this moment, nothing existed except for Scarab and Prismo, until Scarab reached up and pulled back the curtain, the dim moonlight shining into the room. 

Prismo was without a blanket and one of his arms was hanging off the side of the mattress. Scarab rolled his eyes and carefully took Prismo’s arm, putting it over his sleeping chest. He grabbed one of his blankets and put it over Prismo before laying down himself.

Under normal circumstances, he would never allow anyone to share a bed with him, let alone be in such close proximity while he was in a vulnerable state. He stared at Prismo, his features illuminated in the moonlight. Why was he allowing this? Was it the mortal in him that betrayed his common sense? What a mess.

His mind returned to Prismo's method of getting him to sleep. He hated to admit that it did work, the peace and unfamiliar feeling of safety being able to wash over him the way it did. It was ridiculous, honestly, how a simple gesture was able to calm down the both of them.

Scarab shivered. The air was cold. He pulled his blankets back over himself and slowly moved to get closer to Prismo. He closed his eyes, his arms wrapping around Prismo's left one. Maybe if he were more awake, he would have prevented himself from such an embarrassing display, but dammit, he was cold and Prismo was warm.

…

By the time Prismo woke up, Scarab was already out of bed and curled up in his usual corner, reading a book. Prismo pushed off a blanket he didn't remember putting on and sat up.

He got a better look at Scarab, who was either unaware of Prismo's gaze or deliberately ignoring it. He looked much more well-rested than he had been in days, and Prismo would even go so far as to say he looked less grumpy.

"Hey," Prismo said.

"You're up," Scarab said, turning a page of his book. "Finally."

"Can't help it," Prismo shrugged. "I like to sleep."

"Clearly." 

"So how did you sleep? Was it... nice?"

"I don't know what you mean." Scarab narrowed his eyes, but his gaze never strayed from the book.

"Sure you do, dude."

"Nope. No clue."

"Come on! It was totally nice."

“I don’t have time for this.” Scarab closed his book. "I have things to do today and I need you to come with me. Do what you need to do, talk to Mike, whatever, but meet me outside when you're done."

"Oh! Uh, okay."

Scarab stood up and went out. Prismo sighed and stood up as well.

Mike was in the kitchen, swirling around a bowl of cereal with a spoon. It didn't look like much had been eaten, him being too busy to focus on breakfast.

"Hey, man. How did you sleep?" Prismo asked, opening a bag of bread to make some toast.

"Good. Sorta. Had a totally weird dream, though."

"Really? What was it?" Prismo asked, putting his bread in the toaster.

"I don't really remember, but it had something to do with an angel. It was kinda creepy. And this princess." Mike shrugged. "Got my mind off... you know who."

Prismo tensed at the mention of an angel. "Oh. That's... interesting. A princess, you say?"

"Yeah. She was talking about dolls... or she was a doll, or something like that. Again, I don't remember."

"... Huh."

"You sure looked like you slept well," Mike said, making a smug face. At first, Prismo didn't get what he meant, and then his face got warm.

"Yeah, Scott wouldn’t sleep, so…"

"You looked pretty cozy."

"I’m surprised he let that happen. He barely tolerates me.”

"I dunno about that. I don’t think someone who 'barely tolerates you' would willingly share a bed with you."

“What do you mean?”

“Come on. You guys are friends, right? You like him.”

“He’s just putting up with me.”

“I doubt it.”

"So, Mike, are you going to talk to Oren?"

"Subject change! You're changing the subject!"

"And you're avoiding my question," Prismo said, sitting down with his toast in hand. "What're you gonna do?"

Mike sighed. "Jeez, I dunno, man. Just... hang out with him more, for now? If he even wants to, that is."

"I'm sure he does. I mean, he looked like he was having an awesome time last night."

"I guess."

"Well, me and Scr– Scott are going to hang out after I eat, so maybe you and Oren should do the same. Or at least, you should text him. It is another day off for you, right?"

"I don't wanna."

"Okay, then. But don't avoid him forever, because he might start thinking you hate him."

Mike groaned. "Why is everything so hard?"

"I wish I knew, man." Prismo glanced at the string. "I really do."

…

After breakfast, Prismo gave a quick goodbye to Mike and headed out the door. He followed the string to find Scarab, who was standing in the shade of a tree.

"So, what are we doing?" Prismo asked, following Scarab as they began their walk to the woods.

"Looking for a good walking stick."

"Cool. Why?"

"Because these stupid mortal legs can hardly hold me after a while," Scarab grumbled.

"I could always carry you, ya know," Prismo teased.

Scarab quickly turned to Prismo. "I would rather kill myself than allow you to hold me!"

"Sure, bud. Sure."

Scarab crossed his arms and returned to walking, refusing to look in Prismo's direction at all.

It was warm out and partially cloudy, the sun currently obscured by a thick white cloud. Cicadas droned on relentlessly, and Prismo had to occasionally step over some that had fallen onto the ground and died. A few squirrels ran from their wake, which annoyed Scarab greatly. What was it with this guy and squirrels?

"How's your reading?" Prismo asked after a while.

"Fine." Scarab picked up a branch from the ground and inspected it for a moment before tossing it back again. "I find Jane Eyre intriguing, albeit mildly concerning. Her life sucks."

"Isn't that like-- the book about the girl who falls for her employer, who's keeping his wife trapped in the attic?"

"Spoilers, Prismo."

"Sorry."

Scarab continued his search, picking up branch after branch, testing their resilience by hitting them against a tree, taking off their bark, and comparing them to his height. Prismo busied himself by kneeling down to look at the little flowers that peeked out from under the carpet of pine needles. The more he looked, the more he saw the little dots of color. Some were white and some blue. One was pink. He picked a few, but left the pink one alone.

"Hey Scrabby?"

Scarab looked over from his newest discovery. "Ugh, what now?"

"Hold out your hand."

Scarab frowned but complied. He put down the branch and held out his hand. Prismo dropped the little flowers onto his open palm, already a bit wilted.

"And what is this?" Scarab asked, glancing up at Prismo suspiciously.

"Uh... a gift, I guess? You like it?"

"No." Scarab put the flowers in his pocket and went back to work.

"What a shame," Prismo said. "Guess I'll have to find you something better."

"Don't bother." Scarab sat down on a large, lichen-covered rock to mess with another branch.

Prismo watched as he stripped off the bark and tested its weight in his hands. His hair continuously fell in his face, much to his annoyance. No matter how much he tried to tuck it back, it would always fall back down. It was in an awkward stage of being too short to put up but too long to know what to do with.

Prismo sat next to him, holding up the hair that was bothering him.

"What are you doing now?" Scarab said.

"Nothing. Just helping you out," Prismo replied. "Do you want, like, a haircut or something?"

"From who, exactly? I don't see you as being particularly skilled in cutting hair."

"It doesn't have to be me."

"I wouldn't let anyone get a sharp object that close to my head. What kind of imbecile do you take me for?"

Prismo shrugged. "Just thought I'd ask. It's not bad longer, though."

"I can hardly stand it."

"Then get a haircut."

"Absolutely not."

"Then what are you gonna do?"

"I don't know! I'm not worried about that right now." Scarab finished messing with the stick and sat up straight again, Prismo's hand letting go and his hair going back down.

"It's a nice color," Prismo said.

"What?"

"Your hair. I like the color."

Scarab looked away. "Alright. I don't know what you're trying to get at, but alright."

"I mean it! It looks cool. It definitely suits an angel."

Scarab stared at his new stick with contempt. "If I were still an angel , I wouldn't need a new staff like this."

"What was your old staff like?" Prismo leaned in to look at it.

"It was a Holy Weapon. Its standard form was just a walking staff, but it could morph into anything I wanted. Those damned Seraphim probably trashed it."

"Woah. Were you like, a soldier or something?"

"Not just a soldier. I was created with the specific purpose of causing the most bloodshed. Demons and angels alike feared me. I was great once."

"Hey, you're still pretty great," Prismo said, putting his hand on Scarab's free one. When Scarab's hand twitched, he removed it. "Sorry, am I being too much? With- with all this touching stuff?"

Scarab stood up. "No. Don't waste time worrying about it." He walked off, using his new walking stick.

Prismo got up and went after him. "Are you sure? I can stop it. Just say the word."

"Yes, I am sure."

They followed a faint dirt path to a pond, and on their way Prismo found several daffodil flowers. He picked one and gave it to Scarab, who took it without a word, their fingers lightly grazing each other.

The sun, now free from its cloud prison, sparkled off the water. A few water lilies were on the surface of the pond, dragonflies darting about. A turtle sat on a log sticking out of the water.

"Nice, isn't it?" Prismo said. "I always liked nature."

"In Heaven, they have their own fancy gardens, and they’re all well-trimmed and perfect. I hate to say that I prefer the... ugh, I prefer the mortal realm's original flora. It feels more real, in a way." Scarab looked down, noticing a small pink flower that had been crushed under his heel. He quietly kicked up some dirt to subtly bury it.

"I agree,” Prismo said.

They stared ahead together for a few minutes. After the turtle retreated back into the water, Scarab grabbed Prismo's hand.

"Let's go," he said. "I haven't eaten yet."

Prismo nodded and followed him, making sure to keep a hold of him. "How are your legs holding up?"

"They're alright, better with the walking stick to lean on."

"That's good! But I can always carry you if you need."

"Oh shut up."

… 

She had appeared once in his dreams before.

In it, she had been on the ground as black ichor leaked out of her eye, which looked like it had been stabbed quite a few times. Prismo had been there, too, and she had grabbed him and spoken about things that Scarab didn't understand.

She stood before him, but stared past him, looking at someone behind him. The more he stared at her features, the more she looked like Prismo, only with this look of innocence that was slowly being killed with every moment she stayed alive. This time, her face was free from injury, a small smile on her face.

"Pris!" she said, rushing past Scarab to hug Prismo, who looked startled and confused. Prismo glanced from her to Scarab.

Scarab backed away. This wasn’t a moment meant for him. He moved until he was no longer in the black void, the other two melting away into nothing. With a few blinks, he was on a lifeless battlefield, the bodies of angels and demons littered everywhere, gold and black ichor mixing together. 

The blinding light of a simulated sun shone down upon the angel, bright enough that he needed to shield his eyes with his wings. They ached from a long day of constant flying. He was getting weak again.

Haniel and Evangeline stood by his side, looking out at the death that had sprouted everywhere. This had been their worst battle in centuries, Heaven only barely managing to win. Evangeline had black ichor caked under her claws and black stains on her mouth and chin. Haniel was in much cleaner condition, most of the ichor being on their sword. The eyeball on the hilt stared at Scarab, looking deep into the corners of his mind.

Scarab stood up, his legs stinging from the injuries he had sustained. “When can we go back home?” he asked, hand to his head as he felt a headache coming on.

Haniel turned to Scarab, hand on the hilt of their sword. “You don’t belong ‘back home’. I think you forget this is where you’re meant to be.”

They were right. It was exactly where he was created to be. Exactly where all three of them were created to be. But Scarab more than the others.

His memories of the battle were blurry, but one thing lingered: the euphoria of causing almost all the pain and bloodshed. The strong feeling of purpose that had powered his every move as he decapitated any enemy in sight, finding more and more creative ways to kill them off.

He opened his mouth to speak to Haniel when they grabbed his shoulder and pulled out their sword.

“You’re only meant to cause pain! Remember that. Please.” Haniel stabbed the sword into Scarab’s abdomen and quickly drew it out. 

Evangeline laughed. “Aww, look at your blood. It’s adorable! It’s all red, just like your suit!” She grabbed Scarab, getting his mortal blood all over her fingers and staring at it in delight.

She pushed him away and the world melted into obscurity.

He laid on the ground. It was nighttime in a grassy meadow. He was in a little patch of flowers, some white, some blue, and some yellow. One pink flower was right in Scarab’s field of blurry vision. He dug his fingers into the gaping wound in his abdomen, his breathing fast. He was only able to feel one thing, just as God intended. He was only able to feel hatred.

Red was everywhere. It was on his clothes, on his face, on his hands, in his very soul. This was the color of hate to him. Hate to Haniel, hate to Evangeline, hate to the angels, hate to anyone who tried to treat him like anything other than a weapon. Even if he wanted to feel anything else at this moment, he couldn’t. The anger had infected his mind.

Someone ran to him, and they stopped at his side, breathing heavily. 

"Oh shit. What happened to you, Scarab?" Prismo said, crouching down to gingerly inspect the wound. His shaky hands were warm.

"I will kill you if you mess with that," Scarab whispered, flinching.

"Sorry." Prismo drew back his hands. The world was cold.

Scarab closed his eyes. He needed to wake up. Wake up and end this pain. 

"Prismo," he said. “Prismo, Prismo, Pris… Prismo.”

"Yeah?"

Scarab brought a bloody hand to the pink flower, touching the petals and staining them with crimson. He drew in a pained breath, letting the next three words slip out in a haze of pain and red. "… I hate you."

Prismo put down Scarab's hand. "I know."

His vision faded. He was gone.

…

Scarab sat up. He was in Mike's living room, having just slept on the couch. It was still dark outside. His heart hammered in his chest, an unfamiliar feeling that nauseated him. He forgot to breathe for a moment, and as a result, began to cough.

“You up?” Prismo asked softly from the mattress.

“No.” Scarab touched his stomach, trying to find the wound. The pain still lingered, but he knew it was all in his mind. His fingers found the scar.

"I just had a weird dream," Prismo muttered. “A really weird, awful dream.”

"Tsch, so did I. You're not special."

"Ha." Prismo shifted, and was silent for a moment until Scarab heard him sit up. “Can we, uh, share a bed again?”

Scarab got up, taking his blanket with him. “This is the last time we do this. Ever.” He sat next to Prismo.

“That’s okay with me.”

Chapter Text

The cabin had finally been finished.

The rooms were mostly empty, the living room doubling as a dining room and decorated only by the couch, a jar with a daffodil in it, and a small table, accompanied by two mismatched chairs. In the only bedroom was the air mattress, which Mike had let them keep for the time being, and a corner filled with books that belonged to Scarab.

Prismo had been able to get a job at Bonnie's family bakery, so whenever he was gone Scarab either cleaned the house, read a book, or searched for Oren. It often depended on what the string would allow.

Oren was interesting. As much as Scarab hated thinking about it, he was one of the few people he tolerated being around. He was chill (unless Mike was around), didn't ask Scarab about why he wanted to know so much about Heaven, and was nice to him in a way that didn't feel suffocating.

Scarab knew mortals weren't allowed to go to Heaven or Hell before they died. It was an extremely important rule, and the reason portals and teleportation spells were often kept for only the highest ranking angels and demons. But nevertheless, he persisted. If he couldn't get back to Heaven without dying as a regular mortal, he didn't know what he was going to do.

He looked through as many books as he could, asked Oren questions that wouldn't sound too strange, and even tried to recreate spells, but it all failed. The only thing that happened was an annoying headache.

Prismo had been avoiding him. He knew this and didn't care, because he had also been avoiding the other. He didn't want to be around Prismo and feel anything other than hatred. He couldn't allow it. That would mean surrender.

"Maybe we should take a break, mate. We've been at this for a while," Oren said, reshelving books in the church's small library.

"I'm sure you must have something," Scarab said, crossing his arms.

"Surprisingly enough, this place doesn't have much on the afterlife," Oren shrugged. "I'm serious, we should take a break."

"Why?"

"Well, you don't look alright."

"I'm fine."

"Hey, it's okay to not be alright. I just don't wanna make it worse, you know?" Oren leaned against the wall.

"Whatever. Your concerns are pointless, I can manage."

"Come on, I can tell this is... getting to you. We can do this tomorrow evening, if you want."

Scarab stared at the carpeted floor, poking it with the tip of his shoe. "Alright, fine. I’ll go."

​​"Mind if I join ya?"

"No."

"Alright, let's go!"

Scarab followed Oren out of the room, turning off the light and glancing back at the shelves for a moment.

… 

The walk back home had been mostly quiet, but Scarab preferred it be that way. He wasn't in the mood for idle talk. He could see Oren studying him out of the corner of his eye, as if he were something fascinating that should be watched with caution. But that's exactly what he was, so Scarab didn't stop him or question him.

That's what they never did. Question each other. Scarab never questioned why Oren always got nervous around Mike, and Oren never questioned Scarab's obsession with the afterlife.

With the sun setting, Scarab only had so much time before Prismo came back. He stared at the cabin’s front door, its paint faded with age. Scarab turned the doorknob and opened the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said to Oren.

“See ya, mate!” Oren smiled and went off.

Scarab went inside. It was quiet. Quiet enough that his mind was loud. Loud with thoughts of home. 

He paced around, going through everything he had been able to figure out. He didn't know any working spells, there was no information in mortal books, and death was unfavorable. He was going in circles! An infinite cycle of failure.

He refused to dwell on the idea that he might be trapped here forever. If he stayed in this stupid town for the rest of his life, he'd never have a purpose. Never again would he have his staff or his wings or his mask or halo. He couldn't even keep his own blood. It had been reduced to a disgusting red, a color he had always loved until now.

Maybe if he let himself bleed, some part of him would wake up and realize 'oh, right, I'm supposed to be holy, I must fix this', and his blood would turn golden.

It was a stupid thought, but it comforted him as he paced, his nails digging into his arms. He ignored the feeling of his heart racing and heavy breathing, focusing instead on the one thing he was supposed to delight in: spilt blood. 

Thinking about it, he realized that the more blood he removed from his body, the less mortal he’d be. It was genius, really. He should find something to use for the ‘cleansing’.

He knew that in the kitchen there was a knife, so he rushed in and opened drawer after drawer to find it until he saw a glint of metal. There it was. The perfect object of destruction. He reached in to take it.

The front door opened.

"Scrabby, you good?"

Shit.

… 

He knew he was avoiding Scarab.

 He told himself that he was just giving Scarab space. After all, Scarab had been awfully distant since that night when they had last shared a bed.

Something about seeing your friend bleed out in a dream and telling you he hates you messes you up.

It took everything in him to not hold onto Scarab all night, keeping him safe from... whatever had happened. And maybe he was just imagining it, but Scarab seemed to not want to leave his side either.

But in the morning, it was different. Scarab wouldn't even look at him, and when Prismo tried to talk to him, he would give one-worded responses.

It had been a while since then. They had wordlessly coexisted, Prismo giving Scarab space and Scarab doing whatever the hell he had been up to with Oren. Prismo would be lying if he said that didn't kill him a little.

He was sitting next to Mike on the swinging bench, staring out at the evening sky while his mind raced. As if his constant thoughts of Scarab weren’t enough, the universe seemed to take pleasure in finding every opportunity to make him think of Lillie. The few stars peeking out of the sky right then? Lillie had always wanted to see real stars. The sparkly rocks on gravel driveways? Lillie would collect a few for luck. Those orange lilies he had seen on the side of the road? It was like he was being taunted.

"You okay?" Mike finally asked.

Prismo sighed. "I- I don't really know? I'm just thinking about... stuff."

"I noticed you've been away from Scott for a while now."

"Yeah, I... figured he needs space."

"Did something happen between you two?"

"No, not exactly.” Prismo leaned his head back, staring upwards. “Do you ever have a really vivid dream about someone that changes the way you feel about them?"

Mike nodded. "Sometimes. What was the dream?"

"I watched him die. He told me he hated me. Kinda messed me up, you know?"

"Oh damn," Mike raised his eyebrows. "That… wasn't what I expected."

"And after that, he started acting super distant. So I figured I'd leave him alone until he wanted to be around me."

"He doesn't seem like the type of person to admit he wants to be around you, so you could be leaving him alone forever."

"Sounds like you and Oren."

"Oh stop! Not everything is about me and him! You're always changing the subject!"

"No I'm not. This is, like, the second time I've done this."

Mike rolled his eyes. "I think you should talk to him. Like, about what you're feeling. So he doesn't think you also hate him or something."

"He hates talking about feelings."

"Well you gotta talk about 'em sometime, Prince! So why not now?"

Prismo sighed. "Good point. But what if he doesn't listen?"

"Still talk! If he doesn't listen, that's his fault."

"Damn, Mike, you should take your own advice and talk to Oren."

"Again with changing it to Oren!" Mike groaned. "I will hang out with him if you promise to talk to Scott."

"Deal."

… 

Prismo considered getting Scarab a little gift to win him over. Well, the bakery was closed, it was getting dark, and there weren't any shitty little roadside flowers around that weren’t those orange lilies. So, empty handed, he went back to the cabin.

None of the lights were on inside, interestingly enough. Going inside, it was quiet. If it weren’t for the string leading its way along the floor to Scarab, Prismo would think he wasn’t there at all.

It led him into the kitchen where Scarab stood over an open drawer, reaching in to grab something. He was breathing heavily.

"Scrabby, you good?" Prismo asked.

Scarab slowly turned his head to stare at him. The expression on his face was unreadable and his body was frozen in place.

"Scarab."

Scarab slowly removed his hand from the drawer and closed it. Prismo turned the light on.

"Scarab, what are you doing?"

"Looking."

"For?"

"None of your business." Scarab's voice was quiet. 

Prismo moved closer, his approach slow. "We need to talk." When Scarab opened his mouth to respond, Prismo interrupted him. "It's non-negotiable. And I'm not mad at you or anything. We just need to talk, okay?"

"... Fine."

They went to the couch and sat next to each other, Scarab folding his arms and staring at the floor. They were quiet for a while.

“Shit, this is harder than I imagined it’d be,” Prismo said. He took a deep breath, trying not to fidget with his hands. "So, uh, we had the same dream that one night, didn't we?"

Scarab tensed. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do, Scrabby."

Scarab huffed. “How cruel is that? Even in sleep I’m not allowed to be away from you.”

“Yeah, it’s… not great,” Prismo said. "... I didn't like seeing you die."

"Well I didn't like dying."

Now to ask the question that had been circling around Prismo’s mind for so long. "Do you actually hate me?" he asked before he could stop himself. Scarab froze.

Scarab bit his lip, his nails digging into his arms. "I don't know," he said after a minute.

"Are we... okay?"

"Yes."

Prismo shifted, turning to face Scarab. He offered his hand to him. "You wanna..."

Scarab immediately took it, looking anywhere but Prismo's eyes.

Prismo smiled softly, a bittersweet ache forming in his chest. “Let’s stop avoiding each other. Please.”

“If you insist.”

… 

After taking half an hour to collect himself, holding onto Prismo for dear life, Scarab realized his idea about draining his mortal blood was absolutely ridiculous.

There was no way it would work. If anything, he would just die, and as he'd decided so many times, that was a no. He was grateful Prismo didn't see most of it, because that had to have been such an embarrassing display.

Whatever temporary pleasure would come from his self-destruction, it would only inconvenience him down the road.

Scarab made Prismo stop talking about feelings for the night, to which he complied. It was wrong seeing Prismo so… vulnerable. It made Scarab feel something gross inside that he couldn't exactly identify, but it was uncomfortable nonetheless.

Prismo rambled on about his day in a clear attempt to fill the silence, and Scarab listened, staring at their hands. He kept having to relax his grip, unintentionally squeezing Prismo's hand too hard. Prismo never said anything about it or seemed to mind.

Scarab hated the way Prismo went off on tangents during his storytelling, the way he laughed at his own jokes sometimes, and how he looked at him. Scarab hated him so much. There was no other way to describe it. This stupid prince with his stupid voice and stupid smile and the stupid nicknames he gave him. Hate, hate, hate.

Sure, he had told Prismo he "didn't know" if he hated him, but he had only said that because Prismo looked so worried and Scarab just couldn't make it worse. He'd probably never be able to stop thinking about it if he did.

"So how was your day?" Prismo asked, getting Scarab out of his own head.

"Oh. It was fine." 

"And?"

"And I was with Oren. I was looking for a way back to Heaven, as I'm sure you're able to guess."

Prismo looked away. "Oh, yeah." He chuckled awkwardly. "How's that going for you?"

" Spectacular ," Scarab said bitterly.

"My mom had this really important spellbook full of these complicated teleportation spells. I wasn't allowed to read them, obviously, but now I wish I had. They'd be pretty helpful for you. Or, even better, I got my hands on the book and did a spell myself. Then I could've left without us getting cursed and you wouldn’t even be here and… oh my god I could have done that." Prismo sank back into the couch. "I guess I should have done a lot more thinking. Shit."

Great, it was getting dangerously close to feelings again. Scarab squeezed Prismo's hand.

"You can't change the past. If you could, do you think I'd be here right now? If I could change the past, I would have never stabbed my ex and I would still be up there, so –"

"Hold up, you what?"

"Have I never told you?" Scarab frowned.

"I don't think I knew that," Prismo leaned his head back. "So, stabbing your ex, huh? How'd that happen?"

"I was at the training ground. No one ever goes there, so I wasn't expecting them to show up. But then they did, and they started taunting me. He said something that really got to me and I hate that it got to me. I hate it."

"Damn."

"The one time I ever thought I was in love, I got stabbed. So in return, I stabbed them. They had it coming. He should have known better."

"Why did they stab you?"

"We met shortly after our creation. It was Haniel, Evangeline, and I. We were created as a little experiment, to see how well certain angels would fare on the battlefield. Haniel was better with weapons, Evangeline used her hands and teeth, and I… was different, somehow. It was like killing was a drug to me. I never thought much of it outside of battle, but once I was there, I couldn't stop myself. It felt good in the worst way.

"One day, there was a particularly disgusting incident during a battle, and I was sent to get healed. It was there that I spoke to the other two. Evangeline was infatuated with me from the start, but when I saw Haniel, I just... broke . I don't know why I thought he was so perfect, but I wanted to be around them more and more. It was disgusting.

"So one night we snuck out without Evangeline and slept together. I thought that since others took so much pleasure in it, I'd be no different. But I hated it. Haniel loved it, though, that dumbass. So I never said no to anything they wanted to do with me. And when I tried, they started being an asshole and guilting me into doing whatever they wanted. It only got worse when Evangeline wouldn’t stop flirting with me. I kept my mouth shut until one day when it was too much and I snapped. We had a fight. He won, unfortunately. 

"That’s why he stabbed me. My mortal body decided to keep the scar." Scarab stopped. Prismo had somehow gotten him to talk about feelings instead. Damnit.

"Wow," Prismo said. "I'm sorry about that."

"You had nothing to do with this. Don't apologize." 

"You know, I think that's the most you've ever told me about yourself. So, uh, thanks for trusting me enough to be open about that stuff."

Is that what that was? Trust ? Scarab thought about it. Maybe it was.

"Have you eaten today?" Prismo asked.

"No."

"Let's have dinner, then."

"Alright."

"What do you want?"

"I don't know."

Prismo sighed. "I hate figuring out what to eat." He let go of Scarab's hand and stood up. "Well, let's go suffer through this decision making together. Come on."

Chapter Text

“Is the sky supposed to do that?”

“Do what?” Scarab joined Prismo at the window. “Oh, that. Yes.”

Large droplets of water fell from the dark gray sky, heavy and loud. It was absolutely pouring outside, enough that anyone who went out would probably drown. 

“What’s up with it?” Prismo asked. “Hell doesn’t really have weather, so…”

“I was never made aware of its purpose, it only served as ambience for the Saints as far as I care.”

“It’s kinda cool.”

“Not really,” Scarab said. “It’s just water.”

“Maybe to you,” Prismo said. His eyes never left the window. 

Scarab scoffed and left his side. He didn’t want to indulge in this. He had better things to do than stare at water falling from the sky with Prismo. 

The rest of the morning was spent doing idle tasks such as reading, sweeping, and pacing around the room. It was Prismo's day off and Scarab didn't want to bother Oren because of the weather, so the two were stuck inside together.

Scarab wasn't in the best mood, unable to sit still for too long and looking like he really wanted to kick something. Prismo knew what it was. His attempts at getting back home were still failing and in fact, they were pointless. He was sure Scarab knew it, but would never admit it to anyone. Not even himself.

If there really was a way back to Heaven or Hell, Prismo would have already paid Lillie a visit a long time ago. How long had it been since he'd seen her? He hadn't kept track.

And as far as his dreams went, he didn't have many, but when he did they always involved Lillie. Sometimes they were old memories, like hiding under her bed when Mother came into her room or showing her a secret passage in the palace. Sometimes they were of her as she was now, a sweet princess who told him everything and hoped he would do the same. A girl who was now truly alone. A girl who told him how much she had missed him. With every dream, her face became more and more obscured until she was nothing more than a memory.

Well, maybe when he died, he'd be allowed to see her for a moment.

A flash of light came from outside, followed by a blast of thunder.

"Jesus Christ," growled Scarab. He shut his book, glaring at the sky outside.

"What was that?" Prismo asked, scrambling to the window again to get a good look at what was happening.

"Thunder. Do you seriously know nothing about mortal weather?"

"No, not really. We don't even have the sun back h— back in Hell." Prismo's eyes widened as a fork of lightning flashed across the sky, followed by even louder thunder.

"I swear to god, if that is going to keep happening..." Scarab muttered.

"You scared of thunder?"

"No!" More thunder. "Oh my god." Scarab grabbed onto his hair tight, like he was trying to rip his scalp off.

Prismo got up and sat next to him, touching his hand until it eased up. "Hey, don't do that."

Scarab glared at him, but let go of the death grip on his hair. He settled instead for a death grip on Prismo’s sleeve. 

"You want a distraction?" Prismo asked.

"A distraction?"

"Yeah! It'll make you notice the thunder less, I think. We could..." Prismo looked around the room. "We could make a blanket fort?"

"A what? That sounds stupid."

"No, it's fun! We can get all our blankets— which is not a lot— and all our pillows— also not a lot— and make a little fort to hang out in. You can even have it to yourself if you want!"

Scarab stared at his hand as he considered this, holding onto Prismo like his life depended on it. He tensed when the storm decided to get louder. "Alright, fine. But just because I have nothing better to do."

"That's the spirit!"

… 

The couch had been moved to make a cozy little space between it and the wall that they could comfortably fit into. A blanket was placed over the top and haphazardly pinned to the wall, and another blanket was used for a makeshift door. The floor was covered in the rest of the pillows and blankets. 

Prismo sat next to Scarab, who was sitting with his knees to his chest, a slightly less negative expression on his face. 

“What do you think?” Prismo asked. 

“It’s adequate.” Scarab responded. 

They could hear the rain drumming heavily against the roof. The occasional thunder was still ridiculously loud, making Scarab increasingly more annoyed every time it happened. 

“You okay?” Prismo nudged shoulders with Scarab. 

Scarab chose not to respond, but leaned onto Prismo. He hated that this was still scaring him. How much worse could he get in this mortal body? He could hardly keep himself together during a storm. What kind of angel was he?

“Anything I can do?”

“I don’t know.” Scarab closed his eyes. He'd rather die than ask Prismo for affection. Not that he wanted it. 

Prismo’s arms went around him, pulling him close. Scarab shifted to rest his head on Prismo’s chest, listening to his beating heart. He glanced at the string, harmlessly tangled around them, then shut his eyes again. He was safe. 

“Who’s that girl you think about so much?” Scarab mumbled in an attempt to get his mind off of the storm. 

“What?”

“You dream about this girl all the damn time, it’s annoying. She looks exactly like you.”

“Oh. Lillie.” Prismo squeezed Scarab a little tighter. “She’s my little sister. I guess I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since I left Hell.”

“So you left her behind, then.”

“I wish I hadn’t.”

“I can tell.” Scarab looked up at Prismo, their faces way too close. He quickly averted his gaze. “… Tell me about her, I’m curious.”

Prismo looked away. “I dunno.”

“I told you about my ex partner stabbing me, Prismo. It’s your turn.”

“Ha. Fair.” Prismo began to play with Scarab’s hair. “We were very close. My mom didn’t want us to interact at all, but we still found ways to hang out. She thought that if Lills spent too much time with me, I’d corrupt her with my ‘bad influence’.”

“‘Bad influence?’” Scarab whispered, going back to resting his head on Prismo’s chest. “You’re an idiot, but I wouldn’t say you’re a bad influence.”

“Yeah. She thinks that something went seriously wrong with me when I was created. She wanted a perfect little daughter, but when I wasn’t perfect or a daughter, she was not happy, so she basically replaced me with Lillie. Mother figured whatever was wrong with me would rub off on Lillie if she spent too much time around me.”

“Hm.” 

“She loves the stars. It was always her favorite thing to learn about. She would probably love this place more than me.” He paused. “… I miss her, Scarab. This is all my fault.”

“Don’t blame yourself, it’s annoying. I hate it when you’re annoying.”

“Pfft. Thanks. Sort of.”

“You’re welcome.”

… 

Scarab sat up, face flushed. “What’s wrong…?”

They’d been sitting together for a while. Prismo had held onto Scarab and observed him, the way he tensed at the thunder or refused to make too much eye contact with him in such close proximity. He loved the way Scarab sleepily leaned into his touch. In the soft lighting of the blanket fort and Scarab’s drowsiness, he looked so perfect. There was no doubt Scarab had once been an angel. It made his heart hurt. 

“What do you mean?” Prismo said, trying to ignore the disappointment from the loss of contact with Scarab. 

“Your heart. It’s beating way too fast. What’s wrong?” Scarab rubbed his eyes, attempting to wake up.

“Oh, that’s—” Prismo shrugged, his face getting warm. “I dunno. It just… does that sometimes?”

“And you’re not concerned?” Scarab put his hand to Prismo’s chest. “Can you not feel that?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine! Trust me, I’m okay.”

“Right.” Scarab gave him a suspicious look and retracted his hand. 

“The, uh, storm sounds like it’s quieted down.”

Scarab listened for a moment. “So it has.”

Prismo tried to collect himself. It was pretty silly to get all worked up over a moment of happiness, especially when Scarab had noticed. He hated that being so close to someone could affect him in such a way, but he chalked it up to a lack of affection throughout his long, bleak existence. 

“You wanna go outside?” Prismo asked.

“In the rain?”

“Yeah, why not? It could be fun.”

Scarab crossed his arms. “Fine. But only for a few minutes.”

… 

It didn’t take long for them to get soaked. The rain was obnoxiously cold for how warm the weather was, but Prismo didn’t seem to mind. Scarab, on the other hand, would have gone back inside twenty minutes ago if Prismo didn’t look like he was having the time of his life. 

They held hands and walked around, occasionally ducking under trees for temporary cover. 

“Ah, you look so pissed right now,” said Prismo. “You wanna go in?”

Scarab glared up at him and his stupid grin. Sure, they were both soaking wet and Scarab would definitely be taking a shower after this and the rain felt gross on his face, but seeing Prismo so genuinely enthusiastic about such a stupid thing… he hated it. He couldn’t go back in yet. He just needed another minute to enjoy this feeling that was without a doubt hatred and disgust. 

From their spot under a tree, a drop of water fell onto Scarab’s nose. He was startled, and when Prismo laughed he considered punching him, but in the end he decided the laugh was too quiet and soft to deserve it. 

“No. Not yet,” Scarab finally answered. 

He could take a few more minutes in this awful experience. Maybe another hour. It didn’t matter. 

Maybe Prismo was all he needed right now. 

Chapter Text

“Gabriel. Gabriel, open up.”

Gabriel sat up quickly, his hair sticking to the right side of his face. Shoot, he’d fallen asleep working again. He grabbed the scattered pages of paperwork and arranged them in a neat stack.

“You can come in, it’s unlocked!” Gabriel called, pushing back his desk chair.

The door opened and in came Michael. He frowned when he saw the absolute state that Gabriel’s room was in.

“You need to get yourself together,” Michael said, stepping over a pile of crumpled paper adjacent to the trash can to open a curtain.

“Yes, yes, I know,” Gabriel said. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I just don’t want you stressing over everything. Seraphim are meant to work with each other, not take all the work for themselves.” 

“But–”

“Now’s not the time, anyway. We have a meeting with her.”

Oh, right. In all his work-induced stress, Gabriel had completely forgotten about the scheduled meeting with the Queen of Hell, Luci. How silly of him to lose track of an event that he had put together himself.

“Let’s go get it over with, then,” Gabriel said. He straightened his sleeves and left the room, Michael following behind.

“Don’t you think we’ve been talking to her too much?” Michael said wearily.

“That’s a little mean.”

“She’s a little mean.”

“And this is our mistake that we need to fix! We’ve been doing so well with not trying to kill each other lately and I’d love for that streak to continue.”

Their footsteps echoed throughout the hallways, the cold marble floor and walls uninviting. Gabriel wasn’t too fond of this part of the Heavenly Palace. It was much too professional for his taste. If it were up to him to decorate, there’d be nice rugs and flowers and paintings everywhere. Oh, paintings were his favorite. If he had time, he would try to make his own, but there simply wasn’t a good opportunity for it.

Surprisingly, Gabriel and Michael were the last ones to make it to the meeting room. Normally Gabriel was always the first to everything, so he really had forgotten all about this. Zerachiel sat with her feet propped up on the table, making a casual salute to them both.

“‘Sup, guys?” she said, leaning back in her chair.

“Feet off the table,” Gabriel said, walking by her to his seat. “You too, Jeremiel.”

Michael sat down and put his head in his hands in frustration. Remiel gave him a hesitant pat on the head.

Pretty much everyone was watching Gabriel expectantly. It was times like these that he really wished his siblings didn’t have so many eyes.

“Right! Um, let’s see…” Gabriel summoned a notepad and pen and began to draw out a spell to make the little portal from which he and the other Seraphim could speak to Luci.

“Why do we all have to talk to Luci again?”  Raguel asked. 

“Hey, don’t be like that. We’re not fighting anymore, isn’t that nice?” Gabriel said, finishing the spell. “Don’t answer that. Now look presentable, everyone.”

Gabriel ran his fingers along the inked spell, leaving behind a trail of glowing light. A small portal opened up above it, Luci’s bored face inside.

“Hello, my dear sister! How are you doing this…” Gabriel glanced outside. “… evening?”

“Let’s hurry up and get this over with,” Luci said. “Why do we have to meet on this matter again?”

“For once I agree with her,” Zerachiel muttered, picking at some lint on her sleeve. 

“Just for an update! So that you know exactly what’s happening!” Gabriel said. 

“Right, because I care about that,” Luci grumbled. “Continue.”

“So we officially have two angels working on the extraction! They know our angel very well– though I can’t say they like him at all– and they’re figuring out an ethical way to get him back! It’s also on them to get your son back and I need to know what you want us to do with him.”

“Keep him, for my sanity please keep him,” Luci said. 

Gabriel faltered. “Um, are you absolutely sure about that? No change of heart or anything?”

“No. I have all that I need right here, and that’s my daughter. My son’s infinitely more troublesome than he’s worth.”

“Poor kids,” Michael muttered. Gabriel kicked him under the table. 

“Alright, that’s… a choice!” Gabriel said in his fake cheery voice. “Well, I’m sure we’ll find a good place to keep your son!”

“You’re acting like I’m awful for not wanting my son, but you’re no better,” Luci said. “Tell me, what are your plans with the angel when you get him back?”

Gabriel faltered. “We, uh…”

“Rehab, I dunno,” said Raphael. He yawned and rested his chin on his hands. “Trust us, Lu, this’ll be out of your hands real soon.”

“We will never speak of this again,” Luci said. “Take care of it as quickly as possible so Father will leave me alone.”

“You got it! I’ll see you around, okay?” said Gabriel. 

“I’d rather you not,” Luci said, and closed the portal. 

The moment she was gone, the Seraphim erupted in chatter. 

“What are we going to do with the prince?” Michael asked. 

“Will we really put the Scarab in rehab? Will that even work?” Raguel said. “I was thinking more like– reprogramming.”

“I gotta go, I have a show tonight. My new single is coming out tomorrow so there’s, like, a ton of hype. Remi, come help me set things up.” Zerachiel gave Remiel a pat on the head. 

“Sure, okay,” he said, following her out of the room. 

“I’m sure Haniel will know what to do with the Scarab, alright everyone?” Gabriel said. 

“Isn’t Haniel, like, not qualified to do this kind of work at all?” Jeremiel said. 

“Haniel is very qualified. They seem like they’ve grown into a nice, reasonable angel. And they’re not as young as you remember, Jer.” Goodness, all the commotion was giving Gabriel a headache. The sooner he didn’t have to do anything, the better. What a mess. He took a deep breath and stood up. “I will be in my room. Don’t bother me for a few days, please.”

The Seraphim gave their goodbyes as he left the room. The moment they were out of sight, he let his wings droop. There was nothing he wanted more than to curl up in bed and hibernate for the next century. Unfortunately, Seraphim couldn’t get much rest these days, despite the three kingdoms being the most peaceful they had ever been. There hadn’t been something so nice since Eden, but even then there were… issues. 

Gabriel drew his wings close. Now was not the time for reflecting. 

… 

There had been quite a few sleepless nights for Scarab. 

As much as he hated to think about it, it was getting increasingly difficult to fall asleep on his own. Combined with that and the recurring vague nightmares he shared with Prismo, he figured it was better to just skip sleep some nights. 

He stayed up to stare at the string, at his finger and Prismo’s. He stayed occupied with thoughts of freedom and of home. He wanted his tie to Prismo gone. 

So he came up with an idea. 

One night, another night of no sleep, he’d gone to the kitchen and taken the knife out of its place in the drawer. It was small, but used right, it could definitely kill. 

What better way to find his sense of belonging again than to do what he was literally made to do? Killing demons was never difficult before. He never gave it a second thought. And maybe, just maybe, Heaven would take a look at him and think to take him back. 

He could get rid of Prismo and run away, never to be seen by mortals again. No more holding hands with anyone, sharing beds with anyone, or making stupid blanket forts during storms. 

If killing was supposed to feel good, why did he hesitate?

He opened the bedroom door slowly, just barely able to see Prismo’s resting form. He gripped the knife tightly in his hand. He could do this quickly. 

His legs didn’t want to move forwards. He could only stare at Prismo, his breathing erratic. Why couldn’t he do it?

He finally stepped in slowly, his feet making the floorboards creak. He could do this quickly. Come on. 

He stood over him. This was easy. Get rid of him and he could leave. Stop feeling nauseated. 

“Hey,” Prismo mumbled, opening his eyes. If he noticed the knife, he said nothing. “What’re you doing?”

“Nothing.” Scarab moved the knife out of view. “Why are you awake?”

“Can’t sleep.”

Scarab backed up, making his way to the door without revealing the knife. “Me neither.”

“You lonely, then? Come to pay me a visit?”

“What? I am not lonely, I don’t get lonely.”

“Hmm, if you say so.”

“On second thought—” Scarab backed up to leave without revealing the knife, “— I am tired. I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

“Oh. Goodnight, I guess?”

Scarab all but slammed the door and ran back to the kitchen to put the knife away. What was he doing? Why did knives make him this way? God, maybe he really could use some sleep. 

He laid down on the couch, holding the blanket tight and taking deep breaths. 

He didn’t want Prismo to die. He just wanted to go home. 

A tear ran down the side of his face. Then another. He couldn’t stop himself anymore. He attempted to muffle his sobs with the back of his hand, but it didn’t work all too well. 

He curled up and closed his eyes, willing himself to go to sleep. 

This was the worst. 

… 

“So, you remember our treehouse, right?” Mike asked. 

“Of course, mate. How could I forget?” Oren said. 

They waded through the tall grass, the evening cool and calm. Cicadas sang in the far-off trees and crickets chirped at their feet.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been there,” Mike said. 

Oren flinched when their hands lightly brushed together. “O-oh, yeah! Is that where we’re going?” Sure it had been a while since they had been there, but Oren had gone alone countless times, even nowadays. 

“If I can find it.”

“I’m sure I know where it is from here.”

“Really?”

“Yep! I bet it’s not too far off. Follow me!” Oren reached out for Mike’s hand. Just like old times. 

It was probably wishful thinking, but he could have sworn Mike grabbed it a little too eagerly. 

Calm down, calm down. It’s just holding hands. It doesn’t have to be a romantic thing. Calm down. 

Oren led Mike through the grass, trying to keep up the conversation so it wouldn’t get too awkward. 

“It’s not too far from the church, so…” 

“Do you go there often?”

“Look, it’s good childhood memories, okay?”

“Yeah.” Mike squeezed his hand and Oren tried to ignore how warm his face got. 

They walked for a few more minutes, even passing by the church cemetery, until they reached the treehouse. 

It was still standing, but barely so. The ladder was rotting, half the steps broken, wasp nests were all over, mushrooms grew on the exterior, and everything was covered in a thick yellow layer of pollen. Next to the tree was a small square of ground enclosed by a rusted metal fence. It was heavily overgrown with grass, flowers, and what looked like mint. 

“Oh, shit.” Mike nudged an old sign with his foot. “Eden’s still here.”

Oren knelt down to look at the overgrown mint, Mike following suit. “Yeah. I almost started fixing it up again, but…”

Mike sighed. “Well, I mean… we could totally start a new garden together. If you want to, that is.”

“That’d be pretty cool.” Oren tried to ignore how close they were, their shoulders almost touching as Mike looked at the tiny, untamed old garden. 

Eden had always been a small little patch of garden, nothing grown in it other than some herbs and a couple flowers. Some years they’d gotten seeds for a watermelon or pumpkin in hopes that they could grow a big one, like one they’d always see at the county fair that would get prizes for their size. Unfortunately, they never grew much beyond their expected size. 

“Oren?”

“Hm?”

“I wanted to tell you that…” Mike took a deep breath. “I… I’m really sorry.”

“What do you mean?”

“I haven’t been the best friend. I mean, I got so caught up in my own problems that I didn’t talk to you for half a year! How shitty is that?”

Oren’s chest ached. “It wasn’t you, Mike.”

“Yes it was! I was so busy feeling awful about myself and I would’ve stayed that way if Prince and Scott hadn’t showed up out of fucking nowhere.”

“I was the one actively avoiding you. Stop blaming yourself.”

Mike picked at the mint plant. “And why was that? Senior year feelings resurface or something?” His tone was bitter. 

Oren wilted a little at this. That was deserved. “It hurt to see you. Hell, it still hurts.”

“‘S the same for me,” Mike mumbled. “Can we just agree to start over a little bit?”

“That’d be nice.”

“Hug?”

Oren nodded and immediately pulled Mike into a hug. “Let’s start a new Eden, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Mike held onto him tight. 

They didn’t let go for a while. 

… 

Lillie set down her pen, staring down at the spell she'd drawn on paper. Ink magic was simple enough, she could manage this. It was just a simple portal.

"Breathe. You got this, " she whispered.

When she had messed up her spell last time, it had been because her mind had wandered. She had thought about the Seraphim for a split second too long and the portal's destination had shifted to take her to the large, beautiful city that was Heaven.

Now, she just had to focus on Heaven instead of her brother. She pictured the alleyway she'd ended up in, Evangeline's touch, Haniel's sword.

She had finally been free to pay them a visit again. Mother was elsewhere, helping one of her head demons get some sinners under control or something. She would definitely be gone for a few days at the very least.

Lillie had contacted Haniel a few days in advance to arrange their meeting. Now she just needed to make sure she didn't screw this up.

She activated the spell, running her fingers along the paper as the ink illuminated. A portal began to form above it, and she pried it open with her claws. When it was big enough, she stuck her head through, looked around in case anyone was watching, and stepped all the way through.

In front of her was an apartment complex, fairly large and pristine, some balconies decorated with potted plants and others with windchimes. An angel was sitting on one, which alarmed Lillie until she realized it was Evangeline.

Evangeline almost immediately saw her and waved. "Hey!" she called, jumping off the balcony and flying down to Lillie.

"Hi. It's nice to see you again," Lillie said. She squeaked as Evangeline grabbed her hand and ran with her into the apartment complex.

"Haniel's busy right now, so we're gonna go do something together while we wait," Evangeline said. 

"Oh! Okay! That's cool."

On the third floor, Evangeline had an apartment. It was pretty small and feathers were everywhere, along with several claw marks along the walls. Yarn was piled up in one corner of the room, tangled up and knotted. 

"What do you think? Pretty cool, huh?" Evangeline said, sitting down on the couch. She patted the spot next to her.

"Yeah, it's... really nice! Do you knit?" Lillie sat next to her.

"Pfft, not anymore. My therapist-- well, ex-therapist-- said I should pick up a hobby that wasn't destructive but I gave that up real quick. It was boring."

"Oh."

"Anyways, since Haniel is nowhere to be seen, I wanted to show you around. You would love this place, trust me. It's paradise, after all."

"So what are we doing in your apartment?"

"Just wanted to pick up a few things. You wanna leave your bag here? It looks heavy."

Lillie eyed her bag. The spellbook was in there and it was important she keep it with her at all times, but Evangeline was right, it was pretty heavy.

"Sure." She took it off. "You won't look through it or anything, right?"

"Nope! I promise!" Evangeline went to her fridge and grabbed a can of something. "You want an energy drink?"

"Oh, no thanks." Lillie shook her head.

"Cool." Evangeline opened it and took a drink, closing the fridge door with her foot. "So, what do you like? Gardens? Bakeries? Outdoors, indoors? Heaven's got, like, everything!"

"Oh, well, I don't know. I've almost never left my palace, so... I think you're the better judge on what we're doing here."

Evangeline cooed in thought for a moment. "Let's go get some food. Food is good."

Lillie was about to speak when Evangeline grabbed her hand again. Something about it made her feel weird inside, but good weird. They left the apartment and made their way into the streets of the city.

… 

The more she thought about it, the more Evangeline realized she never hung out with anyone new. 

It was partially because new angels didn't need to be made anymore, what with the war being over and all, and partially because Haniel got all weird whenever she started talking to anyone else.

Take Uriel for example. Uriel was an angel that had fought alongside them for a few centuries. She was very sweet when she wanted to be and always found an excuse to compliment Evangeline on something. 

Evangeline had never felt a spark for her. Not the way she had for Scarab, or later, Haniel. She wasn't craving approval from her or a soft touch or maybe a little kiss. She just saw her as a potential companion to add to her collection of friends.

Haniel saw them talking one day and sat next to Evangeline and not-so-subtly tried to get Uriel to leave. This was not too long after their big fight with Scarab. Evangeline's throat still hurt from the cuts at the time, she remembered that.

Another angel she had tried to bond with was Celeste. Now, this one definitely had a spark. It was a small one, but it was there. Celeste preferred the company of mortals to the company of angels, especially after everyone had retired. A hundred years ago, Evangeline had been sitting atop a building, swinging her feet and watching all the mortals go about their day, hugging each other and crying and playing. Celeste sat with a group of small children, letting them put flowers all in her hair and braid it.

Children were interesting little specimens, especially since most angels had never been children themselves. They were all created at full size so they could be sent to do their jobs as quickly as possible. Children never liked Evangeline. They always stared at her or carefully backed away as she walked past.

Celeste was so perfect and beautiful and understanding, though. Evangeline was sure she'd talk to a creature such as herself.

So, she'd flown down from the building and started an idle conversation. It had gone well, they'd even continued talking for a few months until Haniel found out. He'd been sort of nice to Celeste, but one day she just stopped talking to her. Even worse, she started ignoring her. 

But now that she had met Lillie, and Lillie was important to Haniel's job, there was no way they could get rid of her! It was perfect.

God, having a partner was so weird.

"This bakery's a pretty good one! Just get whatever you want and we'll sit down somewhere," Evangeline said, swinging open the door to her favorite place in all of Paradise (besides Haniel's apartment, of course). The bakery was always a perfect place to exist. 

"Alright." Lillie nodded and hesitantly went off on her own to look at one of the many display cases of treats.

Evangeline grabbed her usual favorites, which was pretty much anything that was sweet or had meat, and sat at a small table. She couldn't help but stare at Lillie as she struggled to choose what she wanted.

Evangeline absentmindedly began picking a few feathers off her wings. Jeez, why were there so many of them? Maybe a few more wouldn't hurt--

"Hey." Lillie sat down across from her. "Are you, um... are your wings bothering you?"

"What?" Evangeline stopped mid-pluck before letting go. "Oh, no. They're all good. So, what did you get?"

"Just some cake. I liked the look of the strawberries on top, so I figured why not?" Lillie poked it with a plastic fork.

After that, they were drowning in awkward silence. This cute demon seemed as if she had no idea what to do. Maybe she was scared? How could Evangeline prove she wasn’t that scary? She should start up a normal conversation.

“So your mom doesn’t know what you’re doing?” Evangeline asked.

“No. She’d be really upset if she knew I took one of her books to see my brother. I really don’t want to make her sad, you know?”

“Sad? I think she’d be angry.”

“Either way, I feel really bad for disobeying. I just really miss Prismo.”

“She got rid of the prince, right? Why, again?”

Lillie gave a rough, short explanation of their family’s messed up story and how the prince had finally wished himself out of Hell.

“... and– and we try not to use wishes on each other, see. It’s bad. Exceptions are birthdays and special occasions. I’ve never made a wish, though. It doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Jeez. Your mom’s kinda awful, you know that?”

“No she’s not! She’s just… trying her best.”

“She’s clearly not. I bet if you gave her a good stabbing, she’d come to her senses. That’s what Haniel and I do! And Scarab.”

“She doesn’t deserve that!” Lillie said, shocked. “She’s a good mother, she’s just a little overprotective.”

“Name one good thing she’s done to you or her brother.”

Lillie faltered. “Um… she… well she created me… that was pretty nice…”

“She was waiting to get rid of your brother! That’s an awful thing to do to your… creation…” Evangeline frowned. Isn’t that exactly what had happened with Scarab? The Seraphim had been waiting for an opportunity to get rid of him as he was.

“I guess that is terrible,” Lillie said. “And she never let me be near him. And she pretends like he never existed! It was unfair! He’s my brother!”

“Yeah!”

“And she– and–” Lillie paused, her eyes going blank. The grip on her fork tightened and she didn’t speak for a moment. “Uh… no, I’m sorry. Mother is a very just and wise person, she has her reasons for everything.” 

“… What was that?”

“What?”

“You got all– weird just now.”

“What do you mean?”

Evangeline shook her head. “Nevermind. It’s nothing.”

“Oh.”

“Let’s talk about something else, this is sad.”

…

“Thanks for coming,” Haniel said. “And you said you could come back tomorrow?”

“Yes! I promise.” Lillie nodded. She carefully drew out the ink spell for the portal. “Are you sure this plan is going to work?”

“Of course! I just need to gain the trust of another mortal, and I think I’ve found just the one.”

“Alright. I’ll see you soon.” Lillie began activating the spell, picturing her bedroom in her mind and hoping it’d get her there. “Thanks for talking to me, Evangeline.”

“What can I say, I like to talk–” she was cut off by Lillie giving her a quick hug. Lillie could feel her confusion as she slowly put her arms around her.

Lillie let go. “You guys are really cool. I hope we stay friends.” She smiled and opened the portal, stepping through.

Ah, back in her room at last. She wanted nothing more than to collapse on her bed and get a good rest. She took off her bag and opened it to put the spellbook in.

“Lillie.”

She froze. So Mother had come home early.

Mother put a hand on her shoulder, her claws threatening to dig into Lillie’s skin. “Give me my spellbook.”

Chapter Text

"Did you not hear me? Give me back my spellbook now." Mother towered over Lillie, turning her around. 

Lillie pulled away, her hands trembling as she pushed her things further from Mother. 

"I don't want to," she whispered.

"Don't make me take it, darling," Mother's voice was like ice. She held out her clawed hand. "Give it."

Lillie swallowed and shook her head. "I can't do that."

"And why not? Where were you?"

"I wasn't– um–" Lillie's mind raced as she tried to come up with a lie, but she just… couldn’t. 

"Tell me."

"I was in Heaven," she said before she could stop herself.

Mother grabbed Lillie's wrist. "Now why were you there, of all places?"

"I was talking to some angels because they're going to help me get Prismo back and–" Lillie spoke involuntarily, gasping as Mother's claws dug into her skin and drew blood.

"I thought I told you to stay away from him. I thought I've always told you to stay away from him." Mother reached past her and grabbed the spellbook. "Now I have to go through the work of making you forget these spells."

"No! Don't! The– the others are waiting for me to help them tomorrow!"

Mother let go of Lillie. "You are never speaking to them again. I am locking you in here tonight. This is your only warning.”

Before she could walk away, Lillie spoke up. "Why are you so awful?"

Mother whipped around. "Awful? I am not ‘awful’. I do what I know is right for you.”

Lillie cowered as Mother marched back towards her. “I’ve seen you be awful to Prismo.”

"Why do you care about him so much?” Mother hissed. "I wish you'd forget about–"

"No!" Lillie shouted. The silence that followed was deafening. "You… you can't do that to me.”

“Yes, I can.”

Lillie took a deep breath, tears pooling in her eyes. She was about to do something reckless and stupid, something she might regret. “I wish you didn't have any power over me."

Mother paused. "What?"

Lillie clutched at her chest. Is this how getting your wish granted is supposed to feel? Burning? Her mind was melting and decaying, then building itself back up again. 

She hadn’t realized all the feelings she never had. All the negative thoughts, all the pent-up rage, all the bloodlust, everything Mother purposefully stopped her from feeling... it flooded her mind. She couldn't hear, she couldn't think. For the first time, she was truly angry. Sad. Disgusted. Upset.

Hadn’t Evangeline said something about how she should stab Mother?

Staying composed, Lillie went over to her desk and grabbed a pair of scissors. They had been a birthday gift, a sharp pair infused with holy silver and decorated with bright blue gems that matched her eyes. Mother watched, unsure what to think or do.

“Lillie, darling, what are you doing now?”

Lillie caught her before she could react, grabbing her and stabbing her in the shoulder as hard as she could. She knocked Mother to the ground and grabbed the spellbook. She attempted to run off, but Mother grabbed her by the ankle and she fell. Hard.

“Let go of me!”

“Don’t treat me this way!” Mother hissed, pulling the scissors out of her with her free hand. She pulled Lillie closer to her and grabbed her hair. Lillie scratched at Mother’s arms, but she was unaffected. 

“Oh, look at you. All my hard work ruined. You were coming along so well, too.”

“I hate you,” Lillie whispered.

“I’m going to give you two options, child. Either you apologize and I'll let you stay here with me, or I'll kill you.”

Lillie stared into her mother’s eyes, ones that mirrored her own. This was it. Everything was about to change forever. 

“I’m not your little doll. I will never be your little doll. Without me, you’re just going to make another daughter, but maybe one who’s more brainwashed this time,” Lillie said. “So kill me. Fucking kill me right now.”

For a moment, a small moment, there was a glint of remorse in Mother’s eyes. That’s when Lillie struck. She clawed at her face, feeling nothing but pure delight when she shrieked and recoiled.

But she struck back.

Lillie didn’t notice it at first, just that her face was warm, but she backed up and reached to touch her face. Holy shit. The scissors were lodged in her eyeball. The fucking scissors had stabbed her eyeball.

Black ichor had stained her rug, both from her and from Mother. Mother held her scratched face for a moment but got up almost immediately. Lillie had to act fast.

She pounced on her and dug her claws into Mother’s throat.

“Stop!” Mother shouted. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You don’t have any power over me, remember?” Lillie said. “So I think it’s my turn to have it.” She pulled the scissors out of her face and stabbed them into Mother’s throat.

…

“Mmph, Haniel, go away,” Evangeline mumbled. She pushed off the hand that shook her shoulder.

“It’s Lillie,” whispered a sweet, sad voice. 

Evangeline eagerly shot up from her comfy spot on Haniel’s bed. “What are you doing here, I thought–” her smile faded when she actually looked at her.

Lillie’s dress was bloody, as well as her claws. She was holding a bloodstained towel to her eye. The spellbook was tucked under her arm.

“Hi,” Lillie said.

“What the hell happened to you?” Evangeline said,  speaking in a low voice so she wouldn’t wake up Haniel. She put on her discarded button-up and stepped out of bed, gently touching around the injury on Lillie’s face.

“It’s really funny, actually,” Lillie said, her tail wrapping around her leg as she winced and pressed the towel closer to her face. “Really, really, really funny.”

Evangeline grabbed Lillie by the shoulders and guided her out of the room. “Let’s go clean you up. I’ve dealt with some pretty bad shit. You’ll be okay.”

Lillie said nothing, just allowing herself to be pushed wherever. They entered the bathroom, where she sat down on the cold tile floor and hissed as Evangeline removed the towel.

Evangeline was met with a sticky black hole where one of Lillie’s beautiful eyes had once been. There were a few desperate scratches around the area.

“Holy hell,” Evangeline whispered. “What happened? Seriously.”

“My mom and I had a little fight.” Lillie opened the book and pulled out a bloody pair of scissors. “Holy silver. But she’s not dead, she’s stronger than that.”

Evangeline clicked her tongue. “I’m starting to think that violence isn’t always the best solution to problems.” This was only partially a joke.

Lillie sniffled, rubbing aggressively at her normal eye. “It hurts so bad.”

The soft light of Evangeline’s halo made Lillie’s tears and blood sparkle like little stars on her face.

“Don’t you have a healing spell or something?”

“Not… not with me. And it’s kind of hard to look for one when— when one of your fucking eyes is gone!” Lillie’s voice raised in pitch, more tears threatening to spill.

“Hey, keep it down. I don’t want to wake Haniel.” Evangeline cupped Lillie’s cheek in her hand. “I’ll help clean you up and you’ll try to stay as calm as possible. Got it?”

Lillie nodded, swallowing. She closed her good eye and let Evangeline do whatever she wanted.

“One more helpful thing that I think you’ll want to know…” Lillie said, biting the inside of her cheek as Evangeline started cleaning at her wound with a wet towel.

“What?”

“This means I’m the Queen now.”

Chapter Text

(Seventeen – fifteen years ago.)

Before Jake’s eighth birthday party, Mike had always known Oren as the shy Australian kid from church.

He only ever saw him in or around Moorestown Baptist Church, after all, which Mike only went to on Christmas and Easter. 

The first time they’d made eye contact, Oren was sitting under a table and drawing with Jake and this other girl who had eaten crayons at kindergarten once. Mike couldn’t remember her name. 

Oren looked up from his sheet of paper and their eyes met. He frowned at Mike slightly, but not in a hostile way so much as a ‘why haven’t I seen you before?’ way. 

Mike would have asked this mysterious church kid who he was, but Mom took his hand. 

“It’s time to go, honey,” she said softly. “We’ve got some Christmas movies to watch at home with Dad.”

Mike grinned. He loved Christmas movies.  

A couple years later, the birthday party had happened. Jake had invited practically everyone in his grade and the other kids from town. 

Mike had noticed Oren in the corner of the living room. He had been staying out of all the games, instead choosing to watch them all and chew on his necklace. Mike caught Oren staring at him a few times. 

When the party was pretty much over, Oren had gone to ask Jake something and was immediately dragged over to Mike. 

“Mike, I want you to meet my friend Oren! He likes your nails,” Jake said, a slight lisp from his missing teeth. 

Mike glanced down at his nails, which he’d painted with his mom. They were his favorite color, yellow.

“Thanks!” Mike said. He quickly scanned Oren for something to compliment him back on. “I like your necklace!”

Oren’s necklace was a tiny little cross, just like the ones that were all over church. 

“O-oh, yeah, thanks!” Oren stammered, speaking in that cool Australian accent Mike liked so much. 

“Jake! Marcy’s got something to show you!” The crayon girl (Mike had learned that her name was Lady) shouted from the other room. 

“Coming!” Jake called, running off and leaving the other two alone. 

“Do your parents really let you paint your nails like that?” Oren asked. 

“Oh, yeah. Why wouldn’t they? Do your parents not let you?”

“No. They think it’s for girls.”

“That’s silly. It’s for everyone!”

“Really?” 

Mike nodded. “Of course!”

“Oh…” Oren fidgeted with his hands. “That’s pretty cool. Do you want to be friends?”

“Heck yeah I do!”

…

(Thirteen years ago.)

“Did you hear about Sarah’s daughter?” Mom said, setting down a pot of food on the table. 

Dad sighed. “It’s a shame. She was growing into such a nice young woman.”

“I think it was because of this girl she knows. She’s…” Mom glanced at Oren. “She’s a lesbian.”

Dad shook his head. “We should pray for both of them this Wednesday.”

Oren listened to them both, quietly moving his food around with his fork. He knew of Ms. Sarah’s daughter, he’d seen her in church most Sundays and at the park with her best friend. She was a lot older than him, maybe fifteen. He couldn’t remember her name, but she was always very kind and caring. So if she was so nice, why did she stop going to church? Why did she start kissing girls? Only bad people do that, right?

Oren frowned. He really should pray for her, just so she stays safe. So Ms. Sarah doesn’t disown her. 

He finished his food as quickly as possible, drowning out his parents’ discussion about the corruption of Christian youth. 

“Hey Mom, can I go out now?” he finally asked. 

“Sure. Clean up your plate before you go.”

Oren obliged and cleaned up after himself before quickly struggling to put his shoes on and getting his bags. He ran out the front door with a quick goodbye to his parents. 

It didn’t take much walking before Oren heard the sound of other kids running around and screaming in someone else’s yard. Everyone was at Lady’s again, in the back. 

Oren reached the fence and carefully knocked. Almost immediately, Lady opened it. 

“Oren! You’re late, silly.” She took his hand and brought him into the yard. 

Bonnie and Marcy were chasing each other in circles, Jake was sitting and messing with his dad’s old viola, and Mike was on a picnic blanket drying his freshly painted nails. 

Lady smiled at Oren and went to Jake’s side to watch him play. Oren immediately ran to sit next to Mike.

“I didn’t think you were coming tonight,” Mike said. He wordlessly took Oren’s hand and began painting his nails purple. 

“My parents were just… busy talking and it delayed dinner a little.”

“What’s wrong?” Mike asked, picking up on the nervous tone in Oren’s voice. 

“It’s nothing! Just normal family discussion stuff.”

"You sure?"

"Yep!"

Mike continued painting his nails in silence. 

The group had been getting together like this for pretty much the whole summer. They would all meet in Lady's backyard and play with each other until it got dark, then the boys would go to Mike or Jake's house and the girls would stay there for sleepovers. Admittedly, Oren had been nervous about it at first. He didn't normally do things like this, but Mike was there and he did want to get over his shyness.

He always had Mike paint his nails, even if he had to rub them with acetone to get the polish off later. He didn't want to come home and get a lecture from his dad about 'manliness' and whatever. His parents were already a little iffy about his friendship with Mike.

… 

(Eleven years ago.)

"This one! I want to build it here!" Mike said, gesturing to the tall tree that stood before them. "See, we can put the treehouse up there, the garden down there, bikes there, birdhouse there..."

"Wow. Yeah, that is pretty impressive," Oren said, admiring the spot.

For about a year now, they had been planning out a treehouse they were going to build. It was definitely going to be a challenge and despite Mike's hopes, they were going to need help with it.

"Now that school's out, we can totally get this done in like a month!" Mike said.

"Don't get too ambitious, mate."

"Come on, we can totally do it! We've got this." Mike grabbed Oren's hand and intertwined their fingers.

Oren did not blush. He wasn't gay. “Alone?”

“I want this to just be an us thing, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

“We always do things with Lady, Jake, Marcy, and Bonnie. I mean, that’s cool and all, but… you know…” Mike averted his gaze. “We’re best friends and I want us to do a little something on our own.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Oren leaned onto Mike’s shoulder. “We’ve got this.”

“What should we grow there?” Mike pointed to the patch of dirt where he wanted the garden.

“My mom’s grown herbs before, those are fun. Mint?”

“Yeah! Let’s also do pumpkins. Pumpkins are awesome .”

“You’re not wrong,” Oren said. “This might be kinda stupid, but what if we gave the garden a name?”

“Hell yeah! But what kind of name would you give a garden?” Mike frowned. “ John. ”

“Pfft, no! I was thinking more like… something like Eden.”

Mike grinned. “Eden. I like that.”

… 

(Eight years ago.)

Recently, Mike had learned two new things about himself. One, he loved board games, and two, he was bisexual. Both of these he kept a secret. 

Liking board games was probably dorky as hell, so who wouldn’t make fun of him for that? And about being bisexual… Well, obviously he couldn’t tell anyone. His friends would support him. Bonnie and Marcy were dating, after all, and no one thought they were gross. But his family would quietly disapprove and so would the rest of this stupid town. And Oren… oh god, Oren. Oren was the whole reason he was in this mess. Not long after starting high school, Mike had come to the realization that his feelings for his best friend were not, in fact, platonic. 

He knew Oren was Christian. He knew how his family felt about anyone who was queer. If word somehow got out, who knows how weird it would make things between them? It was better to keep it a secret altogether. 

The group sat together for lunch, as per usual. Mike sat next to Oren, just like he always did. The proximity made his chest hurt but he'd rather die and go to hell than leave his favorite person's side. He stared down at Oren's hand. His nails were painted a dark purple (he had stopped hiding it from his parents about halfway into freshman year) and a faded friendship bracelet was tied around his wrist. What had once been yellow and white thread had long since faded into a muddy gray.

"So, guys," Marcy said, sitting on Bonnie's lap. Bonnie huffed in annoyance, since she had just been about to eat. "My dad's letting me host a Halloween party this year and it's gonna be sick. You guys wanna come?"

"Oh my gosh, that sounds fun! Is it a costume party?" Lady asked.

"Meh. You can totally dress up if you want, but it's not a requirement. Me and Bonnie are gonna do something cool.”

"I'm choosing them out, though," Bonnie said.

Marcy kissed Bonnie's cheek. "Yeah, yeah. I'm just saying, vampires would be so cool.”

Bonnie rolled her eyes, but smiled. 

"Jake, we should do something together!" Lady said. 

"What are you thinking?" Jake asked, chin in his hands as his elbows rested on the table.

Lady thought for a minute. "Um... I'll get back to you on that."

"You gonna go?" Mike asked Oren.

Oren shrugged. "If my parents won't kill me. I'd probably sneak out anyway."

"You sure? I mean, I wouldn't want you to get in trouble because of us again."

"Yeah! It's not like I'll be making out with anyone there, or like worshiping Satan or anything."

Mike felt oddly disappointed when Oren said he wouldn't be making out with anyone. Come on, man, pull yourself together. 

...

"How's it feel?" Oren called. 

Mike got off the ladder and tested the floor of the treehouse. "Pretty sturdy!" he called back. "If I fall, will you catch me?"

"You know damn well I could not!"

"Well would you try?"

"Obviously."

Mike carefully walked around. The treehouse was long finished, but the floor had been giving them some trouble lately. They'd been able to fix it, but Oren made Mike the test subject on exactly how fixed it was.

"It's fine, come on up!" Mike said, sitting down in a corner.

Oren carefully climbed up the ladder. "Remind me how we did this, again?"

"The power of friendship."

"Oh, totally." Oren sat next to Mike. "'S cold, ain't it?"

"Yep." Mike scooted closer and put his arm around Oren’s. “But not you.”

Oren smiled. His cheeks were rosy, probably from the cold. Mike closed his eyes and leaned on him. 

… 

Mike and Oren arrived late to Marcy’s Halloween party. Oren had mentioned it to his parents as more of a ‘fall-themed get-together with a few friends’. 

They were without costumes, just in their usual attire (with a few extra layers due to the weather). Mike was wearing these cool new glasses he’d gotten at the mall. They were tinted yellow and he thought they looked pretty cool. Plus he kind of matched Oren, the way he always wore sunglasses. 

Inside, Marcy was messing with Bonnie’s makeup. 

“Oh, there you guys are!” she said. “Almost thought you weren’t coming.”

Marcy and Bonnie were somewhat matching. Bonnie was in a pink, princess-like dress that matched her bubblegum pink hair and Marcy was in a red and black dress with some fake fangs in her mouth like some sort of vampire princess. 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Oren said, doing that stupid adorable grin of his. 

“Is this everyone?” Mike asked, looking around the living room. There were ten, maybe fifteen people in here. 

“Unfortunately, it’s a small town, as I’m sure you know,” Bonnie said. “Marceline, I think that’s enough eyeliner!”

“Just a touch-up, babe, trust me. But yeah, not many people from school came. We don’t need a whole bunch of people to have a good time, though,” Marcy said. 

“Where’s Lady and Jake?” Mike asked. 

“Upstairs. There’s a few more people up there too. Bonnie, hold still! You’re gonna look so cute when I’m done.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Bonnie muttered, trying and failing to hold back a smile. 

“Come on,” Mike said, gesturing for Oren to follow him upstairs. 

Oren nodded and took his hand. Mike shouldn’t have blushed, they always did this. It was second nature at this point. 

Upstairs, a few people were gathered in a circle playing with cards. Lady and Jake were in cute, cheap matching costumes, Lady being a demon and Jake being an angel. Jake’s sort-of friend Tiffany also looked like some sort of angel, but he had a black cloak on that made it a lot more ominous. An edgy angel, perhaps? Ash was also there for some reason. He was Marcy’s ex boyfriend and definitely hadn’t been invited. 

“Looks like the losers are here,” Tiffany mumbled. 

The two sat between Jake and Tiffany, watching the rest of the game play out. At some point Jake set down his cards. 

“Dude, what are you even doing here?” he asked Ash, who was winning the game. 

“What do you mean? Am I banned from going to Halloween parties now?” Ash said, tossing his hair out of his face. 

“Yes! Marcy didn’t invite you, man!”

“Uhh, well she’s letting me stay here.”

Mike knew what Jake was doing. He was distracting Ash long enough that the game could be forgotten about and he technically wouldn’t lose. Lady also knew this, shaking her head and smiling. 

Mike then made the mistake of looking to his left, where he saw that Tiffany was staring at him. 

“Hey, man.” Mike said. 

“We all thought you and your boyfriend wouldn’t show,” Tiffany said. 

Mike almost choked. “We’re not— Oren’s—”

“Hm? What’s up?” Oren asked. 

“Nothing! Tiffany’s just—”

“I was saying we thought you guys weren’t coming. It would have been a shame, really. Jake and Lady would have been disappointed. And who would they go to for comfort? That’s right, me! Tiffany!”

Oren and Mike shared a confused glance. 

“Oookay, mate,” Oren said. 

Lady put a hand on Jake’s head. “Come on, let’s just get some snacks. Mike, Oren, you guys wanna come?”

“Yeah, come on.” Oren took Mike’s arm. 

As they went downstairs, Tiffany got up to go after them but was distracted by something stupid Ash said. 

…

“It’s pretty late,” Oren said, staring up at the stars with Mike’s hand in his. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Mike asked, watching the way the porch light illuminated half of Oren’s face in an orange glow. 

“Definitely.” Oren pulled Mike into a hug. 

Mike held onto him tight, resting his chin on Oren’s shoulder. When they pulled back, Mike studied his face in the dim lighting, his gaze momentarily drawn to his lips. 

There was a silence between them that was begging to be filled. If there was any time for Mike to make a move, it was now. 

He cleared his throat. “Um, I…”

“Bye! See you guys!” Marcy called from the doorway. 

“Bye!” Oren called back. “What were you saying…?”

“O-oh, it’s nothing! It was stupid. Nevermind.” Mike laughed nervously, his face warm. 

“Ah. Okay.” Oren said, disappointment in his voice. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.” He gave Mike’s hand a squeeze before walking off to go home. 

“Goodnight,” Mike whispered. “I love you.”

…

(Six years ago. Senior year.)

The group was in shambles. Marcy and Bonnie had a pretty bad breakup, Jake’s parents had passed away and he had been left to take care of his little brother on his own, and Oren’s parents were possibly the most strict they had ever been. 

Oren knew why his parents were acting like this. He’d been spending almost all his time with Mike, they could never be seen around Moorestown without each other. They’d never been too fond of his best friend and he was almost certain they suspected he was more than friends with Mike. 

Oren was sitting on the couch, reading a book. He didn’t notice his parents coming in until it was too late. 

“Oren,” said his father. 

Oren shut his book and looked up. “Yeah?”

His mom shot a glance at father before swallowing. “Honey, we want you to answer this truthfully, okay?”

Oh shit . What had he done this time? Oren’s mind cycled through every bad thing he’d done for the past six months. He nodded. “Alright.”

“Are you gay?”

Well, that’s not exactly what he expected. His stomach dropped and all he could do was stare at them. He couldn’t speak. 

His parents looked at each other again with grim expressions. 

“I’m— I’m not,” Oren finally answered. 

“Then why do you spend all your time with Mike? Why haven’t you ever spoken to those nice girls at church that wanted to be with you?” Father said. “I didn’t raise you like this.”

“Mike’s just—”

“You think we don’t see the way you look at him?” Mom said. “Or the way you hold hands, or— or share beds!”

“I’m not gay, okay?” Oren could feel the nausea kicking in. 

“Everyone in town thinks you are!” Mom said. “So tell us the truth. Are you gay?”

“I don’t want to talk about this.” Oren stood up. 

“You’re not going anywhere.” Mom grabbed his arm. “If you leave right now, you’re grounded. We just want to have a civil conversation”

“I doubt this is going to be anything civil.” Oren pulled away from her. 

“No more seeing Mike or your other friends, no sleepovers, and no parties as long as you live under this roof.”

“I do not care.” Oren went up the stairs quickly. He couldn’t handle this. 

“We raised you better than this!” Mom called after him. 

Oren ran to his room and shut the door. God fucking damnit. He’d really let his little crush go too far. First the painted nails, then the bracelets, then the hugs and holding hands and becoming inseparable… he should have never given in. He should have stayed the quiet Christian boy he was meant to be, the one his parents deserved. 

He took deep breaths, attempting to keep the tears at bay. He knew what he had to do to get his life back on track. 

…

“… and that’s why I hate ants,” Tiffany said. Ever since the group had diminished in members, he’d taken it upon himself to bless them all with his presence. 

Oren wasn’t listening. “Oh, yeah, interesting. Where’d you say she is, again?”

“She’s probably outside already. Why do you want to meet her again?”

“Eh, no reason.”

The two navigated through the crowded hallway to get outside. It didn’t take long before Oren saw her leaning against an old car, arms folded and looking around like she was waiting for someone. He had to make this quick. 

Oren had never spoken to her before. He knew who she was and she knew who he was, but they’d never had reason to speak before this. She seemed cool and funny, definitely a reasonable candidate for a partner. 

“Um, hey,” Oren said, walking up to her. 

She squinted at him, or at least that’s what she looked like she was doing. It was hard to tell with the sunglasses. “Hey?”

“Rachel, right?”

“It’s Astra now, actually.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

She took her sunglasses off to get a better look at him. “You’re Oren, right? Pastor Timothy’s kid.”

“Yep, that’s… me.”

“What do you want?”

Here goes nothing. “So this is going to sound weird , but I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me?”

Astra frowned. “Dude, I thought you were gay.”

So everyone can tell. Great. “I— I just— I’m not…”

She rolled her eyes and smiled. “I’m just messing with you. Give me your phone, I’ll put in my number. My parents will be glad I’m finally ‘getting out there’.”

Oren handed her his phone and she put herself in as a contact, her long nails tapping the screen. 

“Thanks,” Oren said, taking his phone back. “This means a lot.”

“No problem.”

…

“Hey, Lady?” Mike looked up from his food at Lady. They were the only ones sitting in their usual spot for lunch (Tiffany was there too, but they tried to ignore him). 

“Yes?”

“Who’s that girl Oren’s been hanging out with?”

Lady slowly lowered her fork. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Mike asked, his heart sinking. 

“That’s his girlfriend, Astra.”

“He asked me about her!” Tiffany said. “I’m the reason they started talking!”

Mike put his head in his hands. “God, this is stupid.”

“You liked him, didn’t you?” Lady asked softly. 

Mike groaned. “So nobody was gonna tell me how obvious that was?”

“We were honestly just waiting for you guys to tell us.”

Mike leaned back to look over to where Oren and Astra were sitting. They seemed to be having a good time, chatting and laughing. Some of Astra’s friends were with them, too. 

“I’ll try to talk to him after school,” Mike said. “I miss him.”

“Me too.”

“So how’s Jake doing?”

“Stressed. As you can imagine, he’s had to quit everything. Including the band.”

“Damn.” Jake had been putting together a band for the past year, the members so far being Marcy on vocals and bass, Jake on guitar, and Bonnie on the drums. He hadn’t been able to find anyone else due to how little the population of teenagers was in town. “What about Bonnie or Marcy?”

“Bonnie’s always busy with studying now and Marcy’s got some new friends.”

“Jesus, it really is just us, isn’t it?”

Tiffany leaned forward. “And Tiffany!”

“… and Tiffany.”

…

Under normal circumstances, Oren’s parents would have forbidden him from ever dating someone like Astra. She was too much of a rule breaker and hadn’t been inside a church for ten years. Luckily, his parents were just grateful Oren had started dating a girl , so they tolerated her existence and tried to be as welcoming as possible when she came over for dinner. 

Astra was actually pretty fun to hang out with. She had some good jokes, great taste in movies, and never said anything like ‘I love you’. 

They walked through Moorestown together, on a semi-date. They’d gone to the small bookshop and picked out a book at random for each other and collected roadside rocks together. It wasn’t too strange, it would’ve been something Oren and Mike would have done. 

“I want a snack, let’s go get something,” Astra said. “Come on.”

“Sounds good,” Oren said, following her. “You sure you know where you’re going, mate?”

“Pfft, yeah I do. This place is so small I have it practically memorized at this point.”

She opened the door to Aunt Molly’s and held it for Oren. “Ladies first.”

“Thank you, kind sir.” Oren grinned and went inside.

Bonnie sat at the front counter most days due to the lack of employees, but today it was someone else. He had bright yellow hair and a hundred-yard stare. 

“Hey,” Astra said. 

His eyes focused on her. “Mm, why is there someone new… who is this… ”

Now Oren kind of remembered who this was. He was Bonnie’s little brother and his name was something weird like Lemon ? He almost never saw him around. 

“Hey, uh, Lemon… kid.” Oren went up to the counter. 

“Lemongrab,” he muttered. 

“Right. Lemongrab. Where’s Bonnie?”

Lemongrab squinted at him for a moment before getting up. “Mm, I shall retrieve her.”

In his absence, Astra went and leaned over to see the different ice cream flavors. “Damn, this place has everything, huh?”

“Yep. Kinda impressive for how understaffed it is.”

Bonnie came out and up to the counter. “Oh, hey Oren.” She had dark circles under her eyes and a pair of glasses on her nose. “What can I get you guys?”

As Bonnie got them what they wanted, Oren tried to get some conversation out of her. Ever since her breakup with Marcy, she’d been pretty distant from everyone, even Lady. She kept giving short responses. 

“So how’s school?” he asked. 

“Fine.”

“Got any plans for the summer?”

“No.”

He could feel Astra watching him. He glanced behind Bonnie and saw Lemongrab staring at him. “Well, uh, it was nice seeing you. Catch you later, Bonnie!”

He made sure to leave quickly. 

…

It was nearing the end of the school year. Oren was counting down the days to graduation. Most of his time had been occupied by schoolwork, Astra, and volunteering at church. 

The tension with his parents had somewhat settled down, and his help at Moorestown Baptist definitely helped.

The further away he stayed from Mike, the better things got. The disgusting, lonely feeling that had settled in his chest and stayed there was worth it if it meant keeping the peace and proving to everyone that he wasn’t gay.  

One evening, he was out walking with Astra. She’d said she wanted to talk about something important with him, but she was clearly reluctant to bring it up. 

They walked in silence, listening to cicadas screaming in the trees and frogs croaking. 

“Oren!”

Both Oren and Astra turned around to locate the source of whoever had just spoken. 

There he was . Mike. It had been a good while since Oren had allowed himself to get a good look at him. He had his hair down tonight. Oren always loved when he had his hair down. 

Oren and Astra waited as Mike ran up to him. 

“It’s been a long time, huh?” Mike said, the faintest hint of venom in his voice. “Is this the girlfriend I’ve heard so much about?”

“Yep. Astra, nice to meet ya.” Astra shook Mike’s hand. “And I assume this is your best friend?” she asked Oren.

“That’s what I used to think, but I guess girlfriends are more important, huh?” Mike said. 

“It’s nice to see you,” Oren said, avoiding Mike’s piercing stare. 

“If it was so nice to see me, you wouldn’t avoid me.”

Astra backed up. “You two settle this, I’m going to the car.”

“It’s not like that, Mike! I’ve just been… busy .”

“Oh yeah, busy hanging out with some random person instead of being there for your friends when they need you the most!”

Crap, how was he supposed to respond to this?

"I-- I thought we had something special. I thought we were close, Oren. But no, I guess the moment you see someone cooler than the rest of us, you decide to forget all about us."

"Mike, that's not what it is. I promise." 

"Then what is it? Why have you been acting so weird? Why are you so selfish?"

"Selfish? I am not selfish. If anyone's the selfish one, it's you."

"Me? Really?" Mike scoffed indignantly.

"Yes! My whole life, from the moment we met, has revolved entirely around you! I did everything you wanted, I went everywhere you wanted to go, I would have let you ruin everything I had if it meant being around you! And I did let you ruin it, in a way."

"You don't get to say that. You willingly stayed with me through everything! I was never selfish. I know you had to go through whatever shit your parents did, but that was a result of your actions, not mine!"

"Then why was everything always about you?"

"I think you made it that way." Mike folded his arms. "And then one day, you changed your mind and decided that it would be better if I didn't exist."

"Well maybe it would have been!" Oren regretted that the moment it came out of his mouth, but he kept going. "I wouldn't have been so confused about... about everything, and my parents wouldn't be so upset with the people I'm with, and–"

"So everything's my fault. Great job, Oren. Up until this year, I didn't think you had it in you to be such an asshole. If I had known what you really thought, maybe I wouldn't have wasted literal years trying to stay by your side forever."

Great, Oren's eyes had started stinging. "It's not what you think, Mike."

"Stop saying that! I'm just– I'm done with you. Goodnight." Mike turned around and started walking away.

"Mike, wait! Please." Oren grabbed Mike's arm in a desperate attempt to keep him there.

"Get the fuck off of me." Mike pushed his arm away and walked off.

Oren stared at him for a minute, then took a deep breath and started heading to the car to drive Astra home.

She was waiting for him in the passenger seat, leaning against the window and watching the sky darken.

"You good?" she asked after a minute.

Oren groaned and put his head in his hands. "Fuck. I messed up."

"... Is this a bad time to bring up what we drove out here for?"

Oren shook his head. "No, it's okay. You can tell me."

"I think we should break up."

Oren blinked. "What? Why?"

"Well, first off, I can tell you're not actually into the relationship. What we have... it feels way more like a friendship. We've never kissed, never hugged, never held hands."

Oren slumped against his seat. "I really am obvious. I shouldn't be surprised anymore."

"That's not it though." Astra frowned, suddenly very interested in the car floor. "I have never felt... romantic feelings for anyone, ever. My parents have been wanting for me to date someone for so long and I figured dating you would make me finally feel that spark, or whatever you call it."

"So neither of us were actually into it."

"Nope."

"Damn."

"You like Mike, don't you?"

"Unfortunately. I don't think we'll be talking again anytime soon, though." Oren finally turned on the car and started driving.

"Another thing I gotta say..."

"Yeah?"

"I'm moving out of state at the end of summer, so I think we're going to have to sever ties. Is that okay?"

Oren nodded. "Hope you have a good time with... life and all."

Astra laughed quietly. "Thanks, man. And who knows, maybe we're friends in another, better universe."

"Maybe in another universe Mike and I would have never made such stupid mistakes."

"Maybe."

…   

The moment Mike got home, he knew something was wrong. He heard his mom sobbing in the kitchen. He quickly wiped away his own tears and ran to find out what was the matter.

"Mom, what happened?" he asked, watching her crumpled form on the floor.

"Don’t go near my room. Your father–” she couldn't finish her sentence, choking on a sob. “I called 911.”

“What…?”

“I didn’t think he would do this. I didn’t… he wouldn’t!”

Mike sat next to her. “You’re not making sense. What happened to Dad?” He already had a vague feeling he knew what had happened. 

“He– he didn’t want to…” she swallowed. “He’s killed himself.”

Mike hugged her. This is not happening. This is not happening. Holy shit. 

“I can’t stand to see him just… there. ”

“I know, Mom.” Mike was going to throw up. This was the worst fucking day of his life.

…

(Two years ago.)

The group was having a reunion. It was Lady’s idea.

After graduation, Mike hadn’t seen them much. It was ridiculous, considering how small the town was, but he spent most days inside wallowing in his own misery. It had only gotten worse after his mom passed away in December a year ago.

He sat on the couch in Jake’s living room, right next to a sleeping Finn. He’d been pretty high-energy all day, right up until twenty minutes after Mike had arrived.

Marcy came in with Bonnie, surprisingly. Mike could still feel the tension between them, but they were willingly talking again, so that was a huge improvement.

Oren was the last to arrive. He entered and nervously accepted everyone’s greetings before going off to stand in a corner.

“You should talk to him,” Jake said, leaning on the couch.

Mike looked up at him. “Who? Oren?”

“Who else?”

“I… I dunno. I don’t think he wants to talk to me.”

“Mike, I want you to listen to me. This town hasn’t got a lot of people. If we all stay mad at each other, we’re going to end up being lonely and bitter. Lots of people from school have moved away, no one’s moving here. Unless you go to the city, these people are gonna be all you have.”

The door burst open. 

Tiffany stood there, pointing at Jake. “Jake! How could you forget about your best friend forever?”

“Who?” Jake said.

“Me! Tiffany!”

Lady peeked out of the kitchen to see what all the noise was about. “Oh, hi! Come in.”

“Anyways,” Jake continued, “you need to talk to him.” He gave Mike’s shoulder a pat and then went to entertain Tiffany.

Mike sighed and went over to Oren, who stared at him like a deer in headlights.

“Hey,” Mike said.

“Hey.”

“How have you been?”

“Pretty bad. You?”

“Same.” Mike leaned on the wall next to him. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Yeah. I missed you.”

They slowly moved closer until they were touching shoulders. Mike tried to keep his breathing steady. He couldn’t cry here, not with everyone reunited and finally getting along.

He was able to keep it together all night. He smiled when they played board games, he laughed when Finn regained his energy after his nap and started running around again and making up games to play with everyone, and he was able to talk to Oren like nothing had ever happened. Jake was right. This was all he had right now. The only family he had left.

…

(Seven months ago.)

It had been a long time since Mike had felt this bad. He couldn't stand being around anyone or anything, yet he wanted nothing more than to hang out with everyone and feel okay.

What was the point of any of this, anyway? He was probably going to stay in this stupid town until he died, because he'd rather do that than move into the city and forget all about his life with his mom and dad and best friends.

He always thought of himself as the most expendable of the group. No one missed him when he was gone. Even Tiffany was more important than him.

Maybe if he was in a better state of mind, he'd realize this wasn't true in the slightest, but he couldn't help feeling awful.

This was the most alone he had ever been.

His entire family was dead. He'd made everything weird between him and his best friend and it had never been fixed. He hated everything about himself.

He started staying home most days killing time so he could get closer to... something. He wasn't exactly sure what he was moving towards.

Jake's occasional visits were probably all that was keeping him alive.

He was so selfish.

… 

(Present day.)

"So, you're gonna think I'm crazy," Oren said, shutting the church doors behind them.

"Crazy? Nah, probably not," Mike said.

"Oh, you will. You definitely will."

"Just tell me already! I won't judge."

Oren ran a hand through his hair. "Alright, fine. So, I recently discovered that angels are real."

Mike blinked. "Okay, maybe I'm judging. I wasn't expecting that."

"It sounds ridiculous, but I have proof. I promise."

"And why are you telling me?"

"I'll tell you in a minute." Oren unfolded a piece of paper with faded ink all over it. It was an old drawing of some sort of glyph.

"What the hell is that?"

"Hang on." Oren grabbed a pen and quickly traced over the faded ink. When he was done, he put his finger on it until it started glowing.

"Oren, what the fuck ?"

Glowing golden shapes formed into a humanoid form, like some sort of golden ghost.

"You're late," they said to Oren. Their attention then turned to Mike. "Oh, you brought him. Perfect!"

"Sorry to rope you into this," Oren whispered to Mike.

"I'm Haniel. Nice to meet you, Mike. I already know your name." The angel smiled, but it faltered and they turned to look at something that wasn't there. "Sorry, I got distracted. My partner says hello."

Holy shit . 

Chapter Text

"This is the liveliest I've seen him in days," Scarab said.

It was the only cool day all week, and Mike had decided to celebrate by bringing Prismo, Scarab, and Oren out to a small creek to enjoy it. Scarab sat on a rock, watching Prismo and Mike with Oren sitting next to him.

"Really?" Oren asked. "What's up with him?"

Scarab could tell something was up with Prismo. He knew he was trying to hide his problems and pretend he was feeling well, but Scarab could see right through his stupid act. He hadn't been sleeping well, this Scarab knew because Prismo was now up before he was, even on his days off, and Scarab had a habit of waking up early .

"I'll figure it out soon," Scarab said.

The two watched as Prismo and Mike collected rocks, looked for crayfish, and kicked water at each other. God, they were acting like children.

"So... Mike really likes Prince, huh?" Oren said.

"Yes. It's annoying how much they have been getting along."

"I hate that I agree."

Scarab studied Oren, the way he picked at his nail polish and continually looked at Mike. "You're jealous, aren't you?"

"What? No, no, I'm– I'm just... yeah, maybe a little." Oren sighed. "I just worry that Prince is going to be Mike's new best friend. I mean, Mike's been waiting for new people to show up for so long, and he's just so attached to you guys."

"Mike isn't interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with Prince, if that's what you're worried about."

Scarab rolled his eyes when Oren started frantically trying to defend himself.

"Why do you think I like him that way? He's just– can't I have a friendship with someone that doesn't involve falling in love?"

"You can. But your feelings for Mike are so painfully obvious that I'm surprised he hasn't caught on,"

"That's.. yeah, that's what everyone says."

Scarab wondered how much about Mike he should reveal to Oren. In the end, he decided to say nothing.

"So why are you jealous, then?" Oren said.

"I am not jealous! That's ridiculous."

"Be serious, mate."

"I am being serious!"

"Scott."

“Fine.” Scarab crossed his arms. “Maybe I’m the smallest bit jealous he likes being around other people.”

“At least you’re being honest.”

Scarab scoffed. 

Oren checked his phone for the time. “Well, Mike and I have something important to do.” He stood up. “Hey, Mike?” 

Mike paused what he was doing, his shoes all muddy. “Yeah?”

“We’ve got that thing really soon, remember?”

Mike thought for a moment. “The… oh, yeah! The thing! ” He gave Prismo a quick hug before running over to Oren. “See you guys!” 

“Bye!” Prismo called as they walked away. 

Scarab gave a simple wave. He could have sworn he heard Mike say something about an angel. He frowned. 

“Do you think it’ll work out with them?” Prismo asked Scarab once they were out of sight. 

“If they stop being so oblivious.”

“Definitely.”

Scarab stood up carefully, his legs aching with the effort. “Let’s go home, I need to lay down or something.” He grabbed his staff. 

“You got it.” Prismo helped him get up the steep ground to level footing.

"So why haven't you been sleeping?"

"What? I sleep."

"Not that well. You're always up too early and you don't ever want to go to bed."

"Don't worry about it. It's not really important." Prismo tried to wave the statement off.

"Don't bullshit me, Prismo. We've been stuck together for a while now, I think it's fair to say that I know you well."

They walked in silence for a while, Prismo staring at the grass below them. Their elbows lightly touched.

"I've been having nightmares," he eventually said.

How? Scarab hadn't had a single nightmare in days, and they were connected, so what gives? "I hadn't noticed."

"I guess we haven't been sharing dreams for a while, then."

Come to think of it, Scarab hadn't seen much of Prismo in his dreams. It checked out.

"What are you dreaming about?" Scarab asked.

"I can never really remember when I wake up, but there's a lot of... stuff involving people I care about. Everyone's getting hurt. It's fine, though, I know it's not real.”

"Hm." 

…

It was worse than a lack of sleep. 

As the evening went on, Prismo began to feel soreness in his throat and dizziness in his head. He was sick. Just what he needed. Maybe if he laid down for a bit, he’d feel better. 

There was a vague pain in his finger, the one with the ring, and it bothered him for a few minutes, until he looked over and saw Scarab aggressively scratching at his own ring, as if it would come off that easily. 

“Dude, stop.”

“Why?” Scarab said. “It’s not affecting you.”

“It actually is. I can feel it.”

Scarab grumbled, not bothering to listen anymore. There was some blood under his fingernail and his finger was pretty raw. 

Prismo got up, ignoring the way his vision went dark and blurry for a moment, and grabbed Scarab’s hands. “Stop.”

Scarab glared at him. “You’re so annoying .” 

“I’m making sure you don’t get into any stupid habits.”  Prismo stood up, bringing Scarab with him. 

“It’s not a habit .”

They went to the kitchen so Scarab could rinse the blood off, which he did begrudgingly. 

“When you’re a demon with sharp claws, you can scratch up your skin easily. If you get into a habit of it, it gets pretty bad.” Prismo grabbed bandages from a cabinet.  “With you being mortal, it would definitely be less bad, but… I don’t want you wearing down your skin all the time. Give me your hand please.”

Scarab obliged and let Prismo take care of his finger, mumbling something about how he wasn’t a child.

God, Prismo was too tired for this.

… 

As was often the case now, Scarab couldn't sleep. The couch was uncomfortable, he needed extra pressure from the blankets but it was too hot to have multiple, his legs still hurt, his finger was sore from all the scratching he'd been doing, and he felt annoyingly alone.

He quietly went to the bedroom door and opened it just enough that he could stick his head in. He couldn't tell if Prismo was awake or not, but he could see him facing the window. 

Scarab opened the door fully and crept closer, unsure what to do next to get what he wanted.

"Hey," Prismo said, looking over at him. "You good?"

Scarab didn't answer, instead choosing to stare at him while he tried to think of something to say.

"I can't sleep," he said finally.

Prismo slowly sat up and patted the spot next to him. Scarab immediately went right next to him, grateful there wasn't much light in the room. It hid the redness that was probably on his face.

They both laid down, Prismo with his arms around Scarab. Scarab stayed as close as possible, closing his eyes and just listening to Prismo's heart.

This was probably as warm, if not more, than the extra blankets Scarab wanted, but it was so much better. He put an arm over Prismo and tried to pretend he was thinking about this in a platonic, normal way.

"You're the worst," he mumbled. "Why are you always making me feel like this?"

"Like what?" Prismo said, half-asleep.

"Wrong."

"Is that a compliment?"

"No! Shut up."

Prismo laughed softly, tracing slow circles into Scarab's back. He almost seemed like he didn't realize he was doing it. Scarab attempted to stay as still and stiff as possible, not wanting Prismo to know that he liked it. He couldn't embarrass himself like that, not in front of him, especially not because of him!

His thoughts on Prismo had slowly evolved into something he'd experienced once before, when he first met Haniel. He didn't want to think too hard about it.

"You know, as much as it sucks, I'm glad we met. Ideally, I'd want to get rid of the string, but without it, I wouldn't be here with you right now," Prismo said.

"I'd rather have met you in different circumstances, or even better, not at all."

"Do you think we'd get along in those different circumstances?"

"It depends. I'd like to know what other situation could possibly lead to us ever speaking."

Prismo hummed, lost in thought for a minute. "Think, like, an alternate universe."

"How alternate?"

"I dunno. Maybe... maybe I stayed at the castle and the Seraphim brought you to the ball we were hosting."

"Oh, please, the Seraphim would never. That's ridiculous."

"But what if they would?"

Scarab groaned, shifting so that he was more level with Prismo's neck. "You're obnoxious." He ran his fingers down the back of Prismo's neck, feeling a sense of triumph when he got Prismo to lean into it.

"Yeah, well... you like it."

"No I don't."

"You totally do."

They didn't stay in that position for much longer. Laying on his side like that made Scarab's arm start to fall asleep, and he could tell Prismo was trying his hardest to stay awake. He laid next to him, waiting for him to finally fall asleep.

He ran his fingers along Prismo's arm, hoping this would finally lull him to sleep. After a few minutes, it seemed to have worked.

Scarab stared at the string, tangled around them and gently glowing. He took a moment to glare at it, and then shut his eyes and welcomed sleep.

… 

Upon waking up, it didn't take long before Scarab felt the disgusting sore pain in the back of his throat.

He pushed Prismo's arm off him and sat up, stretching out his arms, unfazed by all the bones in his body that were cracking.

That was the best sleep he'd had in forever, and his dreams were vague enough that he didn't remember them. He wasn't even sure if Prismo had been in them.

He went to the kitchen, putting a kettle on the stove to make tea for his throat.

It didn't taste great, so he put in extra sugar and it immediately became better. When his throat still felt awful, he added more honey.

He waited around the cabin for a while, expecting Prismo to be up any minute. He even walked a few laps around the cabin until some knee pain kicked in and he went back inside.

By the early afternoon, he decided he was just going to wake Prismo up because dammit, he couldn't wait any longer.

He sat next to Prismo and shook his shoulder. "You'd better wake up right now or I'm gonna lose it."

"Dude, what..." Prismo didn't even bother to open his eyes. "It's too early for this."

"It's the middle of the day."

"Well, that's too bad, I guess." He coughed.

Scarab frowned, a suspicion forming in his head. Knowing what he did about mortal sickness (which wasn't much), he had a thought that was immediately confirmed when he placed his hand to Prismo's forehead. It was warm, and not Primso-warm, warm- warm .

"You have a fever," Scarab said.

Prismo opened his eyes. "No I don't! I'm fine." He sat up quickly and made a face that said he regretted it. "Ow, shit." He pressed his hand to his head. 

"I think the worst part is that you gave it to me. My throat hurts, so thank you for that."

Prismo started to speak but coughed instead. Scarab rolled his eyes. 

“You are not going to argue with me today,” Scarab said. 

“But I’m—”

“Prismo, if you argue with me I am going to cut your head off. Now stay here while I get you a drink.”

“… fine.”

Scarab went to the kitchen to make more tea, bringing it back to Prismo when it was ready. 

“Does your throat feel better?” Scarab asked after a while, sitting next to the mattress.  

“A little?” Prismo finished the last of his tea. “Kinda hurts to talk.”

Scarab took the mug from him. “Get out of bed, we’re moving to the living room.”

“Why?” Prismo mumbled, attempting to push himself out of bed.

“Talk less. I don’t want your throat to get worse.” Scarab helped Prismo get up. 

Prismo was out of breath and dizzy by the time they got to the couch. He laid down and Scarab got a blanket for him. 

“You’re going to have to talk to me for a minute, actually,” Scarab said, sitting on the floor at eye level with him. 

“M’kay.”

“What do you normally do when you get sick?”

“Shit, I dunno, sleep? And take medicine.”

Scarab frowned. They didn’t have medicine. He’d have to go to Mike’s. 

“Stay put,” he said, grabbing his staff. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Cool.” Prismo smiled when Scarab put his hand on Prismo’s head as a farewell.

Scarab walked out the door and began his short walk to Mike’s. His throat felt gross and sticky, his legs hurt, and he was getting a headache. He missed the way you couldn’t get gross diseases from your eternal roommates in Heaven. 

He knocked on Mike’s door. It took a minute to get any response, and he almost knocked again right before Mike opened it. 

“Oh, Scott! What’s up? You don’t look too great,” Mike said. His usual glasses were off and his hair was down and a little messy. 

“Prince is sick. So am I. Can I borrow medicine?” Scarab spoke in a flat tone. His head hurt too much for him to talk to anyone but Prismo. 

“Sure, come in! I’ll get it for you.” Mike opened the door wider and Scarab stepped in. 

The TV was on, and whatever movie that was playing had been paused. Oren was on the couch, his face red and his hair also messy. 

“Uhh.. hey,” Oren said. He quickly wiped his mouth and smiled. Scarab gave him a look. He was too tired for this. 

Mike came out of the kitchen with two bottles of medicine. “Okay, so this one’s for daytime and this one’s for night.” He handed them to Scarab. 

“Thanks.” Scarab took them. “Bye.”

“See ya! I hope you guys feel better.”

…

“Oh god , that’s bad!” Prismo said, almost spitting out the medicine. 

“Shut up and drink the rest of it.”

Prismo drank the rest quickly, shuddering. “That’s so gross.”

“Less talking.” Scarab took a cup of medicine for himself and quickly downed it. He immediately understood why Prismo hated it. “ Fucking hell .”

Prismo leaned onto Scarab’s shoulder. “So… Mike gave you this stuff?”

“Yes.”

“Mortals really do have it bad, huh?” He met eyes with Scarab. 

“That’s what I’ve been saying this entire time!” Despite everything in him that wanted to suppress it, Scarab smiled and laughed. He actually laughed . The sound almost startled him, but it felt good. Why did it feel good?

Prismo stared at him, mouth slightly agape. 

“Sorry, I don’t know what that was,” Scarab said, quickly wiping at his eyes. He leaned back on the couch, face flushed in embarrassment. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually laughed.

He’d made a fool of himself in front of Prismo and his throat hurt even more now. What a perfect day. 

“No, no, you’re cool!” Prismo said. “I’ve never heard you laugh before. It was…”

“Stupid? Tsch, it was.”

“No, it wasn’t. I liked it.”

“Lying is wrong, Prismo.”

“I’m not lying! Your laugh is sweet and cute and—” Prismo stopped. “Wait, no— Nevermind.”

“ Cute? Really?” Scarab put his head on Prismo’s shoulder, fighting back another smile. “Were you made just to humiliate me?”

“Stop! I didn’t mean to say that.” Prismo groaned. He rested his head on Scarab’s and closed his eyes. “You’re the worst.”

“I should say the same to you.” Scarab ran his fingers along Prismo’s arm lightly. He didn’t know why, it just felt natural. 

“Hm.” Prismo sighed, leaning into him as much as he could without putting his full weight on him. 

“I can’t believe you got me sick.”

“Well if I didn’t, you’d probably keep your distance. Then we wouldn’t be sitting here together.”

“You have a point.” Scarab closed his eyes, trying to ignore just how awful the rest of his body felt. 

“Can we share the bed again?”

“… please.”

Chapter Text

"Stay still, Scrabby," Evangeline said. "If you keep moving like that, I'm gonna mess up!"

"You'd better hurry or I'm kicking your ass." Scarab hugged his knees to his chest.

Evangeline continued snipping at his hair, her movements careful but her skill less than ideal.

The three angels had been sent to the main city of Heaven to receive new weapons, ones that were blessed and made with the best holy silver created. Evangeline hadn't gotten one since she'd expressed her preference for her own claws and teeth, but she insisted on joining Haniel and Scarab on their trip anyways. After all, this was the first time any of them had really been anywhere that wasn't a battlefield.

Evangeline had grown restless. Being cooped up in a hotel room probably wasn't good for her, so she'd taken out her energy on the furniture, which was now covered in bite marks, and suddenly decided she wanted to do Scarab's hair. Scarab had reluctantly agreed to it.

Haniel sat next to the two, his new sword in his lap. It was long, but its size could change if Haniel willed it to. At least , it was supposed to, but they hadn't quite figured it out yet. The eyeball on the hilt stared up at them.

"Haniel, help me with this," Evangeline said.

"Why do you need help? What did you do?" Scarab said.

Haniel moved over, taking the scissors from Evangeline. "Alright, let's see. Wow, you really cut off a lot, didn't you... hmm..."

Evangeline nodded. "I did!"

"I hate you so much," said Scarab.

"What are you gonna do about it?"

"I'll tear your head off." Scarab started to get up, but Haniel yanked him back down again.

"Sit," Haniel said.

Scarab crossed his arms. "Fine."

Evangeline paced around the room while Haniel fixed Scarab's hair. It wasn't too bad, it just needed reshaping and evening out.

When Haniel was done, he removed Scarab's mask and fluffed out his hair. Scarab avoided eye contact, picking at the soft carpeted floor.

"Aww, you look so handsome!" Evangeline hugged him.

Scarab clearly didn't believe that. "...I guess."

"You really do, dear," Haniel gave Scarab's hand a little kiss.

The rest of the evening involved Evangeline play-fighting with the other two, getting dressed up in their nicest clothes, and taking a walk around the city so Evangeline could get her energy out in a less confined space. At some point she disappeared, so Haniel and Scarab took advantage of this and hid in an alleyway to make out for a few minutes. When they came out, they found Evangeline plucking out her feathers on top of a roof.

The simulated nighttime was fairly new to them. Out on the battlefields, the sky stayed the same gray that covered the entirety of the Inbetween (the dimension between Heaven and Hell, obviously). The darkness was beautiful and cozy. Haniel didn't want to leave it.

For the first time, the three angels encountered some of the mortals that they had been eagerly fighting to protect. (Or were they fighting to protect their realm? No one had really given Haniel a straight answer.)

The mortals looked somewhat like angels, but smaller and more peaceful, wingless and without halos. A few mortals were especially small, running around to speak to angels or the taller mortals.

One small mortal ran up to a big one and was scooped up in its arms, smiling brightly.

"Why do you think some are small?" Haniel asked quietly.

"They're children," Scarab answered, busy watching Evangeline crawl up a lamppost.

"... And what is that?"

"Do you seriously not know?"

"No? No one tells me anything!"

"A child is a mortal at its youngest stage. Some are unfortunate enough to die before adulthood, which is why they're here."

Haniel frowned. "Why don't angels get a younger stage?"

"How am I supposed to know?"

Haniel looked back to the mortal children, one clinging to an older. "Why do they stick with the same older mortals?"

"That’s its mother. A caretaker.”

A mother. Hm.

… 

“Is this a regular thing he does?” Lillie whispered, her hand on Evangeline’s arm. 

Evangeline nodded. “We probably shouldn’t leave him alone right now.”

Ever since Lillie had become Queen, the Palace had been an absolute mess. Evangeline and Haniel lived there half the time, mostly to plan but sometimes to help Lillie when she had her ‘outbursts’ . The previous queen was kept in a dungeon somewhere, still alive but barely. It would take a lot more than some decorative holy scissors to kill the literal second most powerful being in Creation. 

The floors were littered with broken furniture and feathers, there were holes in the walls, and scratches on everything . 

Haniel was leaning against the wall, a bottle of some form of alcohol in his hand, half empty. He’d been watching the other two and stumbling towards them as best as he could without tripping on the broken furniture.  

Evangeline gave Lillie a reassuring pat before going to help Haniel. They immediately grabbed onto her with their free hand, mumbling something. 

Lillie shook her head and left, going down the hall and to her room, the only part of the Palace she’d managed to keep tidy. 

There was so much going on in her brain now that she was free. Anger at Mother, anger at Prismo, anger at her anger, stress, missing Prismo, feeling strange about Evangeline… It was a lot. 

She knew it was only a matter of time before the Seraphim realized something was up, and she was dreading seeing them. They would probably want Mother back in power and lock Lillie up instead. 

She laid down in bed, putting a pillow over her face. It wasn’t enough to drown out Haniel’s loud sobbing coming from outside the room. 

The longer she’d been around Haniel, the more she realized they weren’t as perfect and put together as they liked to pretend. This was the second time they’d gotten themselves absolutely wasted and cried to Evangeline. Afterward, he’d pretend it never happened. 

If only Prismo were here. He probably wouldn’t be able to fix this mess, but he’d at least sit with Lillie and tell her something to get her mind off everything. 

What would she do when she saw him again? Would she hug him? Yell at him? Yell at him and then hug him? What would he think about her eye?

She reached up and touched the gross, gaping void where her eye had once been. It was no longer encrusted in blood, but her eyelids were stained black and it still hurt. She used a spell to keep the pain from adding to her troubles, but it made that whole part of her face numb. Evangeline liked to poke at it to see if Lillie could feel it.

She started drifting off, the pillow resting on her chest, until there was a soft knock on the door. Evangeline came in and sat next to her. 

“How’s Haniel?” Lillie asked. 

Evangeline shrugged. “He cried a lot, which I’m sure you heard. He’s taking a nap now.”

“Damn.”

“They’ll be okay.”

Lillie had her doubts about that. She moved closer to Evangeline, smiling when she put a hand in her hair. 

“Are you excited about the plan? I am.” Evangeline said. 

Lillie nodded. “You think it’ll work?”

“Definitely! Just make sure you make my knife a badass one. I love badass weapons.”

“Only the best for you guys.”

“Nice.”

“But…”

“But what?”

“Is it really worth it? To kill the angel? You could even kill him normally, he’d die as a mortal.”

“Eh. No one likes him. It’d be doing him a favor, honestly.”

“… right.”

… 

Lady knew something was up. Mike looked much happier than usual, as well as Oren, and there was a strange glowing light coming from the church at night after they went in together.

If anyone could find out what those two were doing, it was her! Nothing else to do in town these days, after all.

It was late in the evening when Oren and Mike went into the church. Lady had noticed them running in that direction, holding hands. Oren carried a notebook in his other hand, filled with extra pieces of paper that had been folded up and jammed in. 

One of the slips of paper fell out of the notebook as they ran by, and Lady quickly picked it up.

"What's that?" Finn asked, getting up on his tiptoes to get a clear view of what was in Lady's hand.

"I don't know." She turned it over in her hand for a moment, unfolding one of the corners. From what she could tell, it was part of some glyph, the ink faded to almost nothing. Huh. "Hey, Jake?"

Jake looked up from his phone. "Yeah?"

"I'm gonna be right back, I have to... give someone something."

"Okay . But don't take too long, I wanna get home before it's completely dark."

"Aw, come on! I don't wanna go to bed yet." Finn crossed his arms.

"I'll let you have the rest of my ice cream."

"Oh, math!" Finn grabbed Jake's cup of ice cream, sitting down across from him and swinging his legs happily.

Lady kissed Jake on the head. "I'll see you in a minute."

"Yeah, alright. See you!"

Lady quickly walked in the direction of the church, unfolding the paper as she went. She was right, it was some sort of glyph or spell, and it was almost invisible in this lighting.

The church doors were already shut and likely locked, and she didn't want to disturb Oren and Mike by trying to get in. She walked over to the nearest window, but she wasn't tall enough to see through it. What now?

She looked around for something that could boost her up. There was nothing nearby, and she didn't want to go searching.

A faint glow came from inside, as well as three voices, one unfamiliar. She needed to see what was going on, or it would probably keep her up all night.

She ran around to the back of the church, where there was nothing but weeds, old crates that would definitely not hold her weight, and a few large rocks. The rocks would have to do.

She pushed up her sleeves and picked one up, carefully bringing it back to the window and standing on it. Even on her tiptoes, she could hardly see what was happening.

Oren and Mike stood close, talking to some sort of glowing, golden projection of a person. A halo adorned their head, with sad-looking eyes covering it, and soft, feathery wings were folded behind them. They looked irritated, but spoke to the other two with seriousness.

She should go.

She hopped down from the rock and made her way back to Finn and Jake, the paper tucked in her pocket.

"Hey, sweetie. What's up?" Jake asked.

Lady sat down between Finn and Jake, fidgeting with the beads on her earring.

"I was giving something back to Oren and Mike, that's all." Lady shrugged.

Jake looked a little suspicious of her, but didn't say anything. "They're hanging out a lot again."

"Something's changed with them."

"You think they've kissed yet?"

"Jake!" Lady thought about it for a moment. "I mean, they do seem a lot happier."

"That's gross," said Finn. "You guys are gross!"

Lady laughed. "Oh, sorry, Finn. You're right." She put a hand on his head. "We should get you home now, shouldn't we?"

… 

Lady and Jake watched from the door frame as Finn slept.

"So... what was really going on earlier? What were you doing?" Jake finally asked.

Lady sighed, feeling the paper in her pocket. "I don’t really understand it yet. I’ll tell you once I figure it out, I promise.”

"Cool." Jake gave her a quick kiss. "I guess you should go home now, huh?"

"Wouldn't want my parents to worry." Lady hugged him. "I'll see you tomorrow! I love you!"

… 

Okay. She was alone now. Her parents were asleep, her door was locked, she was being quiet... now she could figure out whatever the glyph was.

Lady grabbed the nearest pen (a sparkly blue gel one) and carefully traced along the lines, making sure not to miss any lines or mess up. 

When she had finished, she stared at the paper, waiting for something to happen. She shook it, threw it, waved it, but no glowing light appeared.

She should have expected it, honestly. There was no way that this glyph could actually do something. There was a logical explanation for whatever Oren and Mike had been doing.

She set it down on the floor, reading to give up. Her hand brushed the edge and a soft glow formed on the ink. Startled, she removed her hand and watched the glow vanish.

She touched the glyph again, the glow spreading until it covered the entire page. It took a moment, but something started forming out of the light. Something that could speak.

… 

Haniel was tired.

He was tired of thinking about Scarab all the time, he was tired of Lillie, and he was tired of the Seraphim. 

They laid in bed, ignoring the headache that had formed right before meeting with the stupid mortals. They were alone in their apartment again. Evangeline had decided to stay at the Palace with Lillie instead of sleeping over with him like she usually did. 

They’d figured out a system for contacting mortals. The mortal, in this case Oren , would learn a spell to be used to summon him, as long as Haniel also had a spell of his own set up. Oren would activate the spell, causing Haniel’s to glow, or vice versa. 

When the spell started glowing, the faded and wrinkled piece of paper barely holding in there, Haniel groaned. Was now really the time? Didn’t mortals like Oren have better, more interesting things to do? They only lived for so long, after all.

They smoothed out their hair and put a hand on the spell, getting into a comfortable sitting position on the bed as their vision went white, slowly fading to show a room. 

“Oren, I told you to only summon me for emergencies outside our schedule! What could you possibly—” Haniel stopped. The mortal they were looking at was not Oren. 

Below him stood a woman, dressed in a colorful sweater and overalls. She looked both fascinated and worried. Worst part was, Haniel recognized her. 

Her name was Lady. She lived in a small inn with her parents, she had a boyfriend named Jake (they were both planning on proposing soon), and she loved to spend time with Jake’s little brother. She’d definitely be a good mom. She was kind and caring and not as judgmental as a lot of other people he observed. 

When given permission, Haniel would use a spell to quietly observe mortals. They were supposed to use it for their mission, but they couldn’t help but watch dozens of mortal families go about their daily lives. He’d probably observed everyone in Moorestown. Everyone except Scarab and the prince. 

“What are you?” Lady asked. 

Haniel blinked. “How did you get your hands on a spell?” They were going to be in so much trouble if this got out of hand, and god knows they didn’t need that. 

“My friend dropped it.” Lady circled around his projection. “I always knew magic was real.”

“You do know what you just did was extremely dangerous, right?” Haniel said. 

“I wanted to know what would happen.”

He should just remove his hand from the spell. Get away before more damage could be done. Shit, what were they going to do? Some sort of memory spell?

They quickly took their hand off, their vision going back to show their dim and messy bedroom.

Goddamnit, Oren. 

After a minute, the faded paper spell began to glow again. He tried to ignore it for a minute or two, but it persisted. 

They ignored it. There was no way they could engage with that mortal ever again. Instead, they got up and got themselves a drink, hoping they’d forget all about this. 

Lady persisted in attempting to summon him, so he eventually just grabbed the spell and tore it in half, tossing it in the trash. He could make a new one tomorrow. 

He stumbled into bed, nauseated and cold, covering himself in a fluffy blanket that smelled faintly like perfume. 

They fell asleep with a hand in their hair, humming to themselves in place of someone who wasn’t real. Someone who would never be real. A mother.

Goodnight sweetie, she would have said. I love you . 

“I love you too,” he whispered at some point. “Love you lots.”

Chapter Text

Evangeline was no stranger to weird dreams. She had them all the time. They mostly involved bright colors, the taste of blood, or a bunch of memories merged together to create a disgusting abomination. 

This dream was different because there was nothing going on. Just her in a black void of nothingness. She stood alone, entirely lucid, as the darkness threatened to swallow her up. 

On her finger was a blue ring. Hmm, this was familiar to her, but how?

A long string was attached to it, glowing and stretching on into the distance. She couldn’t see where it led, so she followed it. 

The walk was long, long enough that she could feel her claws just begging to scratch something. The silence aggravated her. 

"This dream sucks," she half-shouted. Maybe she should just convince herself to wake up. If she woke up, she could see Lillie again. Then again, if she woke up she would have to see Haniel too, and she did not want to talk to them right now. 

She continued going, the floor turning into some sort of giant puddle. She kicked the water with her feet as she went.

Quiet voices echoed around her, and small hands began to grab at her ankles. She shook them off and stomped on them.

After a few minutes, she finally reached the end of the string. Attached to the other side was someone she hadn't expected.

He looked a lot cuter these days. His hair was longer, he'd gained some weight, and of course he was without his mask. He stared at her quietly. Must be some sort of idealized dream-version of him.

"Hi, Scrabby!" Her voice echoed all around them. She moved closer and he quickly backed up, almost tripping over himself.

"Why are you here?" Scarab said.

"This is my dream, why wouldn't I be here?" Evangeline picked up his hand and looked at the ring on his own finger. "Would ya look at that. I knew the ring idea sounded familiar… can’t believe the bosses actually came up with this!"

Scarab jerked away. "Don't."

She touched his hair. "Damn, this looks so long. Even longer than you had it when we were younger. I wonder if it really looks like this in the mortal realm."

"Stop!" Scarab said. "Stop touching me."

She rolled her eyes. "Why? You're not real."

"Yes I am! You're the one that's not real!"

Evangeline squinted. This wasn’t one of those shared curse dreams she’d read about that one time she stole one of Lillie’s spellbooks, was it? “… we’re connected right now, aren’t we? I wonder why.”

"God fucking dammit..." Scarab pushed her away. "Just leave me alone, I don't want to talk to you."

He attempted to walk away, but Evangeline followed him. "So how's your little prince doing, huh?"

"How's your bitchass pathetic excuse for a partner?" Scarab snapped.

Evangeline reached out to touch his hair again, but when she saw him flinch she decided against it. "Oh, they're... you know."

"I don't actually want to know. I'm not talking to you anymore, leave me alone."

"Jeez, you're still so mean." Killing him really would be nice, Evangeline decided. He didn't have any use for her, so what was the point in forcing him to exist? Even if he was still cute. 

Scarab kept his distance from her, glancing at her the way he used to right before the whole fight with her and Haniel. 

Evangeline blinked. Her vision was getting fuzzy. The small hands had risen up from the ground again to grab at her. The string faded from existence, and she didn't have a chance to get a word in before she was woken up.

…

"Oren? What's wrong?" Mike climbed off the ladder, sitting next to him on the old, worn floorboards of the treehouse.

"The angel hasn't shown up in a few days. I dunno if I'm getting the spell wrong or if I did something..." Oren sorted through all of the old spells he's spread out on the floor.

He had quite the collection of old spells, just in case he lost one, although it was preferable he didn't. Who knows what would happen if someone got ahold of the spells?

Oren had been continually activating the spells, but after a minute the glow would fade and leave him with a useless piece of paper.

"Do you think something happened?" Mike leaned into him, looking over all the spells and notes.

"Maybe? I dunno." Oren sighed. "Let's just do something else."

"Like what?"

They stared at each other for a moment before Oren looked away.  "Let's go out for a drive or something."

"Cool, okay." Mike helped him gather up all of the spells and notes into his notebook.

Ever since their first kiss, things had obviously been different between them.

Oren had come over one day to watch a movie with Mike. They'd sat next to each other the whole time, just about as close as physically possible. Eventually, Mike couldn't take it anymore. He asked Oren if he wanted to kiss.

They kissed a lot more than Mike would have ever expected. After years and years of repressed feelings, it all came out so intensely. They kept kissing until Scott had shown up at their door for cough medicine or something.

They hadn't talked about it since, but both laid awake at night replaying the memory over and over in their heads.

Now they held hands in secret, did everything together, and of course worked together with the angels.

Haniel had never given them the full specifics on their mission. All they had to do was keep tabs on Scott and Prince, who were apparently an angel and a demon (Mike had a hard time believing that), and keep their connection with the angels strong. Haniel kept saying that their time for helping would be coming soon, and that they even had gifts for them soon, but in the meantime they had to wait.

They spent most of their meetings with Haniel asking questions about Heaven and Hell, life and death, all that stuff, and Haniel had given vague responses.

Oren couldn't help but have a bad feeling about it all.

… 

It had been a few days since Lady's discovery.

In those few days, she had attempted to contact the angel again, copied out the spell several times with slight variations to see if anything changed (they just stopped working), and researched everything she could about angels via the library and her sticker-covered laptop. There was almost nothing.

The next thing she would have to do is ask around, which had been saved as a last resort for a reason. Depending on the person, she would probably be looked at like she was crazy or a witch. After all, who wouldn't be confused by questions like "Do spellbooks from angels exist?" or "I can summon some sort of angel with this spell I sort of stole from my friend. Is that in the Bible somewhere?"

She wanted to ask Mike and Oren, even if they’d get mad at her for getting in on their business. Unfortunately, she hadn’t seen them all day, so that option was off the table for now.

The best place to start with asking around were her other friends. She'd start with the first one she saw on her walk, and if she saw no one she'd go straight to Jake's.

Bonnie and Marcy were sitting on a bench, Bonnie on her phone and Marcy sitting with her legs across Bonnie's lap, also on her phone.

"Sup?" Marcy said when Lady came over.

Bonnie looked up. "Oh, hey Lady."

Lady fidgeted with the strap of her bag. "Hi! Weird question, do you two know anything about angels?"

"Angels?" Bonnie said. "Well, personally I don't believe in them, so I find no reason to waste time learning about them. They're just another form of fake magic junk."

"They’re interesting and all, but I don’t know anything about ‘em. Sorry, Lady. Why do you ask?" said Marcy.

"It's... nothing. Thank you anyway!" Lady smiled and gave them a little wave before leaving again.

On to the next person... and conveniently, Prince and Scott weren't too far away, staring at some potted plants outside the bookstore.

… 

"These ones are nice. I'm telling you, we should buy a little plant," Prismo said, pointing to a pot of red carnations.

"What's the point? It'll just take up more space. And that one doesn't match the others." Scarab gestured to one of the flowers, which was paler.

"I like that one."

"Well I prefer red."

"Of course you do." Prismo playfully nudged Scarab's arm. Scarab responded by touching his arm to Prismo's.

"Lady's coming over," Scarab said.

Lady was walking over quickly. She had her hair down today, and it was somewhat unbrushed. Her hands were covered in ink smudges.

"Hi, you two!" she said, a bright but tired smile on her face.

"Hey," Prismo said. "Are you okay? I mean, you look a little tired."

"Oh, just... you know.” She shrugged. “Been really busy these past few days. But I was wondering if I could ask you two something?"

Prismo nodded. "Yeah, sure." He couldn't help but notice that Scarab had stopped touching him now that someone else was around.

"So, this is a bit of a weird question, but..." Lady readjusted her bag. "I was wondering if you guys happened to know anything about angels?"

Scarab's breath caught in his throat and he almost choked, but was able to keep it together.

"Um, angels?" Prismo said, trying his best to suppress the nervous tone that he knew was present in his voice. "What about them specifically?"

"Anything, really. I... heard somewhere that angelic spells exist. Or, spells in general I guess. Not that I believe in that, exactly, I'm just curious!"

Mortals weren’t supposed to know about spells. This was specifically so they couldn’t get themselves into trouble and leave a mess for one of the Seraphim to clean up.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Scarab said.

Lady sighed. "I figured. Thanks anyway, though!" She gave them a little wave and walked off.

The moment she was out of sight, Scarab turned around sharply and went back in the direction of home, taking Prismo with him.

"I have a bad feeling about that," Prismo said. "Do you think she knows something?"

"I hope not. Do you know how bad it would be if everyone in this goddamn town knew what we are?"

Prismo thought about this for a moment. "No, I can't say I really do."

"That's because you're such a dumbass," Scarab mumbled.

"It can't be that bad if people find out, right?"

"Hell if I know. But I'd rather not be known as a killer, and I have a feeling the more religious mortals that live here would tear you apart, with you being a demon and all."

"What makes you think they'd even believe those accusations? Like, for all they know we're just attention-seeking liars."

"I'd rather not take any chances."

"Aw, are you worried for us?" Prismo teased.

"Obviously not. Keep making that face and I will punch you."

They walked along in silence for a few minutes, their arms touching again.

Prismo spoke up. "If we met while you were still killing demons, would you have… you know, killed me?"

"What?"

"I dunno, I've just been wondering that for a while. Like, the answer is probably yes, but sometimes I wonder what would have happened back then."

"A chance to kill a demonic prince would have definitely been too good to let go."

"Would you have hesitated? Even a little?"

"Maybe once I realized how worthless you were."

"Excuse me?"

"Well you're not worthless now!"

Prismo grinned. "Oh really?"

"Shut up."

Chapter Text

"Do you know what you two idiots have done?"

After more than a week, Haniel had finally decided to grace Oren and Mike with their presence again. They looked absolutely awful, with a bruise on their head and all the little eyeballs that surrounded their form were closed and wouldn't open. Their hair, usually well-kept and shiny, was tangled in knots.

"No, we don't! You haven't told us yet!" Oren said. He was getting sick of this angel's bullshit.

"Watch your tone. I'm the powerful immortal being here!" Haniel pinched the bridge of their nose. "Another mortal has gained access to our communication spell."

Oren felt his heart drop. If he'd messed up this bad already, there was no way he was getting out of this unpunished. Haniel was right, they were the powerful immortal being here.

"What? Who could we have possibly–" Mike began.

"Does the name 'Lady' sound familiar to you?" Haniel said.

Shit.

"Lady has our spell?" Oren said. "How? How could she have gotten it? Did she steal from us? How much does she know?"

"She said one of you dropped it." Haniel crossed his arms. "So either you two are going to recruit her, although I have no idea how she would be useful, or we somehow erase her memories of this. Do you know how much trouble you've potentially landed me in?

"We can fix this, right Oren?" Mike said.

"Uh... right." Oren nodded, swallowing. He was going to hell for this, wasn't he?

"And, uh, can you answer one more question?" Mike asked, looking back up to Haniel.

"It depends."

"How are you going to get Scott and Prince--"

"Scarab and Prismo."

"Whatever. How are you going to get them back where they belong? Can't you just use a portal and just pull them through or something?"

"No. I'm not allowed to use direct portals. And you'll find out soon."

Haniel disappeared, leaving Oren just standing there while Mike paced around and complained.

"It's always 'you'll find out soon'. Always!" Mike said. He looked over to Oren. "Oh shoot, you okay?"

"Let's go somewhere and forget all about this again. Please."

Mike took Oren's hand and squeezed it gently. "Okay."

…

As much as Scarab tried to get used to it, there were days when the string would make him consider chopping his finger off.

Even if he could comfortably walk somewhere without Prismo and the string wouldn't protest, just the idea of it was enough to aggravate him. He couldn't get rid of it, he couldn't touch it, he couldn't escape.

More often than not, he found himself scratching at his ring or even biting at it. On the occasions that he drew blood, he would patch himself up without Prismo noticing. It was no use getting him to worry over something so stupid. 

Besides, things were getting better, if you didn’t count that one shared dream with Evangeline. He didn’t want to think about it.

They both slept next to each other every night, occasionally sharing a dream, and tried to make light of the boring summer days in Moorestown. There was not much to do, and everything got old after a while.

Oren and Mike started becoming much more distant, and not just with Prismo and Scarab. Lady, Jake, Bonnie, and Marcy had all noticed their absence. Lady knew more about the situation than she let on, but she wouldn't say anything about it except that she knew they were at least spending a lot of time together again. Pretty much everyone could guess they were either dating or close to it.

It was another typical summer evening, with loud bugs screaming from the trees and grass and mosquitos biting at Scarab’s arms every so often. Prismo and Scarab were going home after a walk around town, Prismo insisting he needed the time out of the house for ‘distractions’, as if he didn’t already spend every waking moment distracting himself with someone or something.

The warm air and being so close to Prismo was making Scarab fall asleep and wake back up every three seconds. He rubbed his eyes.

“Sleepy?” Prismo asked. 

“No.” Scarab linked his arm with Prismo’s arm and pressed his cheek against it. 

Prismo leaned into him. “Let’s eat some food before we go to bed.”

“... Fine.” 

They made it home in a few minutes and Scarab sat down at the table while Prismo looked for some leftovers. 

He let his eyes close for a minute, resting his head in his hands. His mind wandered back to Evangeline. He wanted to believe it really had been a dream, but if it wasn’t, how? He was connected to Prismo alone. 

He could almost feel her hands on him, which brought back too many memories of her behavior before. He opened his eyes again, biting down hard on his lip like that would make the thoughts go away. 

Prismo set down food on the table and then sat down across from him. 

“What’s wrong?” Prismo asked. 

Scarab considered deflecting the question like he usually did. There was no point in talking to Prismo about this kind of stuff, all it would do was make him think about it more. But Prismo did look a little worried and Scarab knew he would probably get bothered about it all night. 

“Do you remember when I told you about Evangeline?”

“Yeah.”

“She was in my dream, but not in the way she normally shows up. She was actually there. It was exactly like the way you and I sometimes share dreams. I’m convinced it was her.”

“Oh shit.” Prismo was intrigued. 

“She wouldn’t leave me alone, though. She kept touching me. Not anywhere especially bad, thank god, but… I don’t want her to touch me. It makes me feel like I’m with her and Haniel again, and I never want to think about that. I hate that—” Scarab’s throat got tight and he could feel his eyes start to water, more out of frustration than anything. He wasn’t going to cry over this, he was going to suck it up and move on. He was going to ignore how unfair it was that people could apparently just come and go in his own mind, a place that should be guaranteed to be private. Maybe he should stab the table or something.

“Are you two connected?”

“I hope not. That’s the last thing I need.” Scarab rested his arms on the table, staring down at his food. 

“I wonder how that works. Maybe I…” Prismo leaned back. “I dunno, never mind.”

“Let’s just forget about it.”

…

They were perfect.

It had taken Lillie some time to obtain holy silver, since it wasn't something she could just conjure up out of thin air.

The two knives were carefully shaped and formed into sophisticated weapons, one being made out of normal steel and decorated with rubies on the hilt, and the other made of holy silver and decorated with diamond.

The plan was morally questionable, but Lillie would take what she could. As Haniel had explained, the steel knife would be used to kill Prismo and send his soul directly to Lillie, whereas the silver knife would be used to destroy Scarab's soul permanently.

She had asked how they would even use the knives in the first place, to which Haniel answered that the two mortals he had working for them would serve as suitable vessels, and the knives were small enough to be sent to the mortal realm without the Seraphim detecting it.

Speaking of the Seraphim...

Lillie spent most of her time working on the knives in Mother's study, where a communication spell from the Seraphim would start glowing almost every day. She ignored it until she knew she couldn't anymore. As time went on, she knew they would only get more and more suspicious of Mother's absence, and maybe they would show up to check on her and see Lillie as the queen instead and she would be in so much trouble and she could get brainwashed again, or worse, her soul could be destroyed just like how Scarab's was supposed to be—

"Pull yourself together." She stared down at the spell. "I can do this. I can lie."

She pulled her hair over her eye, hoping it would cover everything, and carefully put her hand on to answer.

The small portal-like window opened up, where one of her uncles was sitting and staring at it with his eyes half open. He seemed to realize someone had actually answered and straightened up.

"Oh! I wasn't expecting an answer." He looked at Lillie for a good moment. "Lillie?"

"Uh, hey..." Lillie tried to show off her best 'everything is perfectly fine' smile. 

"Where's your mother? We haven't heard from her in days," Lillie's uncle said. What was his name? Gabriel?

"She's... sick. It's really bad. You know how it is."

"Oh dear. Is she alright?"

"Oh, yeah, she's fine! Just... in a mood. You know." Lillie tugged at the hair covering her eye.

“I would assume this means she has no interest in speaking, then?”

“Nope. You’ll just have to wait for… later.” 

Gabriel sighed. “That’s one thing off my plate at least.” His expression softened. "Thank you for answering, Lillie. Please don't hesitate to call us for... assistance. We're family, after all."

"Of course, it’s no problem. Thank you, bye!" Lillie quickly deactivated the spell, immediately crumpling it up and throwing it in the trash.

That was close. She was going to be in so much trouble, but she wouldn't allow that to happen until she got Prismo back. They could do whatever they wanted with her as long she was allowed to see him.

She carefully wrapped up the knives and left the study, looking around every corner for Evangeline or Haniel. As she went, she glanced down the dark corridor that led down to where she was keeping Mother. Sometimes her eyes played tricks on her, forming a dark shape that stared at her, ichor trickling from its throat.

She hurried past.

Evangeline and Haniel were in a hallway, and Lillie could hear them from practically a mile away. Their voices were raised, and she could hear sounds of a scuffle.

"You're just scared!" Evangeline shouted.

"Scared? Why would I be scared? Who do you think I am?" Haniel said.

"Someone who cries every night because they miss their stupid ex!"

Lillie peeked around the corner at them. She didn't want to get in the middle of this.

"Don't act like you don't miss him too! You're the one who's always going on and on about how cute he is in front of me!"

"At least I'm open about it! You just use me as some cheap replacement for him! You didn't want me back then, so the moment he was gone you went for me instead!" Evangeline had a tight grip on Haniel’s wrist.

Haniel was breathing heavily, his wings spread out in an attempt to make himself look bigger. "You are all I have. How do you not understand that?"

"I'm sick of it! You're so scared of me leaving that you don't let me talk to anyone!"

"No one would like you the way that I do! We were literally made for each other. We’re supposed to be perfect!"

“Perfect? Of course you’d view yourself that way. I’m so sorry that everyone gets in the way of your perfect little life!”

“Compared to you, I might as well be.” Haniel tore his arm away from her.

“And what does that mean?” Evangeline stepped closer, her claws sharpening.

“You’re a disgusting monster. That’s how you were made and that’s how you’ll stay. No one else could like you the way that I do.”

Evangeline tackled Haniel to the ground, holding his head down with one hand and pressing her knee into his chest. "Disgusting monster, huh? Do you want me to prove that?"

"We were made for killing. What else would we be?" Haniel winced as Evangeline dug her sharpened claws into his shoulder.

"You know, I think Scarab was onto something when he stabbed you. But he should have gone for the head. That's where it gets good."

Lillie stared as Evangeline lifted Haniel's head up from the ground by the hair.

"Don't," Haniel said.

"Well it's not very ‘disgusting monster’ of me if I don't. And who am I to prove you wrong? You hate being wrong." Evangeline slammed Haniel's head into the ground. "Let's see. I could... twist your neck until it comes off. That might work, right?"

"Stop it." Haniel kicked her off of them, halo askew as they recovered from the blow. They pushed her to the ground instead.  "Maybe I should kill you and Scarab both. I think all of Creation would be better off without two monsters who don't care about anything that doesn't have to do with themselves. I don't understand how I could have ever loved either of you."

"What are you gonna do without us, huh? Cry to your imaginary mom again?"

Haniel froze, their wings lowering. "You… why in the hell do you know about that?"

"I think you forget how often you're around me when you're drunk. Kinda stupid, if you ask me. I mean, seriously? An imaginary mom that you cry for when you're sad." She giggled. “I think you just want me to stay so you don’t absolutely fall apart!”

Haniel grabbed their sword and pressed it into her neck. “You know what? I’ll prove you wrong. I don’t need you and I don’t need anyone, so how about I do everyone a favor and tear your soul apart piece by piece?”

One of them wasn’t going to make it out of this alive. Lillie quickly rushed out. "You two had better stop right now or I'm calling the Seraphim and getting all three of us in trouble!"

"Hi, Lillie!" Evangeline smiled, despite the blade that was cutting into her neck.

"Be quiet. Get off each other." She glared at them both. "We have a mission to work on. You can't kill each other or hurt each other or fight or anything! This is stupid!"

Haniel reluctantly stood up. "You don't know what you're doing, Lillie. It's not your business how we resolve things."

"I think you need to rethink how you deal with things if the Queen of Hell is telling you what you're doing is bad."

Evangline stood next to Lillie. "Yeah, Haniel! Listen to her."

"That goes for you too, Evangeline! You're both so immature! I've been working so hard to help you guys out and all you've done is bicker and use me for magic."

Haniel didn't say anything, they just glared at the other two, turned around, and left.

"I think I should break up with him," Evangeline said.

"It bothers me how normally you're reacting to this." Lillie pushed Ev off of her and started the walk to her room. 

"Yeah, well... that's just the way things are for us." Evangeline shrugged. "Plus, you gotta admit they deserved getting their head slammed to the ground."

“I doubt they did.”

“They always deserve this stuff! You hardly know them.”

"Evangeline, I don't know how you were raised, but I think you should do some reflection and come back to me when violence isn't your immediate solution." Lillie stared at Evangeline for a moment before shutting the door in her face.

… 

It wasn't fair.

Scarab hated Evangeline. It made no sense that they would have a connected dream. After all, why not let Prismo share a dream with Lillie?

He would give anything to see her again and apologize. 

He'd been so selfish and impulsive. This was something he told himself every single day. If he'd given his wish even a moment more to think, he could have wished Lillie out with him.

The front door was loud as he pushed it open and stepped outside, but he didn't pay attention. Scarab was probably too exhausted to hear it anyway.

The night sky greeted Prismo, an endless dark void filled with glittering stars and shapes. Lillie and Prismo had spent countless nights reading up on the Mortal Realm, and Lillie had even once said she'd give up being a princess just to see the stars one time.

Prismo was stupid. So fucking stupid. She was the only thing he had cared about for so long, but in the end he only did something to save himself. He'd never even gotten to say goodbye.

A cold breeze rustled the tree leaves, chilling Prismo's skin. The full moon glowed down at him. Life surrounded him in every way, and he wasn't the one deserving enough to experience it. He was never supposed to know what living was like.

None of this was supposed to be real. He didn't deserve to be breathing this air. He didn't deserve all this love that he'd stolen. Lillie should have been in his place. He could picture her staring up at the sky and rambling on forever about the constellations and galaxies that surrounded them.

He walked down the path. It wasn't fair that someone like him could be here, not when there were far better people.

He didn't deserve any of this. He should just go back home, and there was only one way to do that.

He shouldn't have made friends with anyone. He shouldn't have gotten so close to Scarab. If he killed himself to get back to Lillie, who knows how everyone else would react? He'd just be leaving more people behind.

It would be a selfish act, that's for sure, but what did it matter? He was selfish either way. And besides, Scarab had Mike, Oren, Lady, and Jake. Lillie had no one.

Prismo stopped at a tree, considering the best plan of action to take, which way of leaving would be most successful, and how discreetly he could pull it off.

Tonight wasn’t the night for this. He should go back to bed and think this through in the morning. 

Prismo dreamt of Lillie when he went back to bed. 

It wasn’t really her, not in the way Evangeline had apparently been real.

She sat on the floor of her room, blood dripping from her palms. Two knives laid in front of her. She was unresponsive to anything Prismo said, just staring down at the deep cuts on her palms. Two blurry figures stood behind her. 

Bad things were coming. 

Chapter Text

The flesh around Scarab’s ring was raw. He hadn’t stopped scratching at it in days. 

Prismo hadn’t exactly seemed to notice, being too busy in his own head. He’d been talking less, instead spending most of his spare time sleeping. In their shared dreams, Prismo was often frustrated that he was with Scarab again and not his sister. 

So while Prismo was distracted, missing his family or whatever, Scarab might as well take advantage of it and gnaw at his finger all he wanted. 

It was yet another quiet, late afternoon in Moorestown. Boring, warm, and worst of all, it still wasn’t home. Scarab doubted it would ever be home. Once or twice he had felt happy here, sure, but that was to be expected. Mortals experience a complex array of emotions that Scarab wasn’t fond of. In other words, he was getting too soft and he hated it. He was never soft back home. 

It’s all Prismo’s fault , he decided as he paced the living room. If Prismo didn’t spend every single day with Scarab, sleeping next to him and walking with him and smiling around him, Scarab wouldn’t have felt so… different.

Gross. 

Warm. 

Happy. 

Maybe if stupid Prismo hadn’t been the first one to treat Scarab like a real person, Scarab wouldn’t have had to go through the sickening process of falling in love. 

He stopped his pacing. He really had fallen in love. 

The mere thought of it made his skin crawl. He didn’t want to be in love. It made him want to hide from everything and everyone, trying desperately to stop how hyper-aware he was of himself. It made him feel sick and contaminated and vulnerable. He couldn’t do it again.

Could Prismo tell that he had fallen? No, there was no way. 

He needed to get away from this. Get away from all of this. No Prismo, no Mike, no Oren, none of them. He needed to run away and find some way to turn back into an angel alone. 

The ‘ring’ around his finger had faded to a dull gray from all the abuse it had endured over the course of the day. Maybe if it endured a little more it would go away and the string would disappear and Scarab could make his getaway. 

He checked to make sure Prismo wasn’t about to come out and went quietly into the kitchen. His hands shook. He knew what he was about to do was stupid. That’s why he had never gone through with it.

But at this point, he couldn't bring himself to care.

He swallowed and reached a hand into one of the drawers, slowly pulling out that knife he had always favored so much.

Here goes nothing.

… 

Prismo took a deep breath. 

He was just having an off day! A few off days. An off week, even. 

Rationally, he knew it wouldn’t be smart to just leave Scarab and the others behind while he died to see Lillie again. It was a flawed plan, but it was tempting and nostalgia had a habit of warping the past to seem more appealing. But he couldn’t help it. 

Her face, her voice, it all kept blurring every time he tried to remember her. It probably had something to do with Mother’s spell, but he couldn’t help feeling guilty about it. 

He just wanted a home where everyone he loved was safe and happy and—

The string tugged sharply at his hand. He hissed sharply at the sudden pain. Had Scarab walked out too far? He didn’t recall Scarab leaving the cabin at all.

He left the bedroom and his eyes followed the string across the room, which led into the kitchen. It only got tighter as he went, stinging pain settling around his finger that definitely wasn’t just from the pull of the string. 

Scarab was sitting on the kitchen floor, his back turned, staring down at something in his lap. His breathing was shaky and he didn’t seem to notice Prismo getting closer. 

“Scarab? What are you doing…?” he asked, his voice quiet from dread.

Scarab froze, but didn’t turn his head. He continued whatever he was doing with more urgency, causing Prismo’s finger to hurt even more. 

Prismo grabbed his shoulder to turn him around and see what the hell was going on. 

The first thing he noticed was all the blood. It covered Scarab’s hands and some of it was on the floor and… was that a knife?

“Scarab, what the hell are you doing?” Prismo tried not to shout at him, grabbing at Scarab’s wrist as he cut deeper into the flesh of his finger. 

“Get off of me!” Scarab elbowed at him to get him to let go.

“Scarab stop!”

Scarab dropped the knife and pushed Prismo away. 

The cut was deep, Scarab having worked his way to the bone. He trembled, staring at Prismo with hate in his eyes. 

Prismo quickly grabbed the knife before Scarab could get it again. 

“What is wrong with you? You— you can’t just do that to yourself! You can’t do that to me!” Prismo said. 

“Right, because everything is about you,” Scarab muttered, cradling his hand. 

“Do you really think I’m the one being selfish right now? Are you kidding me, Scarab?” Prismo couldn’t help the way his voice raised, standing up and towering over Scarab. 

“At least you like living as a stupid mortal! I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for any of this.  You get everything to go your way no matter what, like the whole world revolves around you! If I cut off this stupid finger I can leave you to your happy life and be gone, so why do you care?”

“ Seriously? I have been trying so hard to make life better for you, do you think I just want you gone?!”

“I didn’t ask you to! You have no reason to annoy me day after day and yet you do!” Scarab yelled, standing up as well. His hands were balled into fists, itching for the feel of a weapon. “I don’t think you understand how good you have it!”

“Maybe if you—”

“Maybe if I what? Tried to be more like you?” Scarab reached for the knife, grabbing at Prismo’s wrist with his good hand. 

“You’d better not.” Prismo jerked his arm away, causing Scarab to stumble forward and the knife to fall and slide across the floor. 

Scarab pushed Prismo away and ran for the knife, grabbing it. It was getting hard to ignore the wound on his finger, especially considering the blood was starting to get everywhere. 

As Prismo started to approach him again, Scarab lunged forward and pinned him to the floor, holding the knife to his neck. 

“What the hell is wrong with you right now?” Prismo winced when Scarab pressed the knife into his skin a little. “Scarab, I thought— I thought everything was okay now.”

Was he fucking stupid? “You were wrong. Did you seriously think everything was fine? I have been trying for months to get back home! I’ve had to live without my goddamn purpose for so fucking long and I’ve lost who I used to be! You ruined me.”

“I was just being your friend!” Prismo stared into his eyes, ignoring Scarab’s blood as it soaked into his sweater. Scarab knew this tactic too well. He was trying to maintain eye contact to discourage him from hurting him. 

Well, time to prove him wrong. 

“We were never friends , Prismo. I’ve been forced to be around you for way too long.” Scarab pushed the knife in just a little further, enough to get a flinch from Prismo. “You know, it would have been quite impressive back in the day to kill a demonic prince, so I might as well take advantage of this opportunity. You have no idea how many times I’ve had to restrain myself from this.”

Unfortunately, Scarab made the mistake of removing the knife from Prismo’s neck. Prismo was able to push Scarab off and take the knife again. 

Scarab didn’t get up, he just cradled his bloody hand, seething. “… I hate you.”

“I know.”

… 

“Did it work?” Evangeline asked, looking over Haniel and Lillie’s shoulders at the space where the knives had been. 

“Yes, it did,” Lillie said quietly. Haniel just rolled their eyes. 

“Oh, this is going to be good .” Evangeline grinned. She went over to the spellbook, flipping through the pages until she found the correct one. “When do we… you know, do the thing? ”

“Give me an hour.” Haniel stood up abruptly, holding their head up high. “You’ve given me a headache.” They walked out of the room, their arms crossed. 

As soon as he was gone, Lillie turned to glare at Evangeline, but she couldn’t hold it for long. “I thought I told you to apologize to them.”

“Yeah, well… they can suck it. I don’t care.”

“You’re supposed to be working together on this! How will you be able to get this done if you’re gonna be pissing each other off the whole time??” Lillie’s good eye twitched in annoyance. 

“Lillie, we will get it done. I promise.” Evangeline picked at the silver in her claws. 

“You’d better. I’m just about this close to losing it, and if you fuck up and I don’t see Prismo showing up in this castle, I will—” Lillie stopped herself, taking a deep breath. She didn’t want to lose her temper again. When that happened, she usually blacked out for an hour and found another room in the castle completely destroyed.

If she did that, everything they had worked hard for would probably come crashing down in mere minutes. Morale was low, and it really didn’t need to be lower. 

“Look, Evangeline. You can’t mess this up. We’re already doing a pretty stupid plan and I don’t need you two to make it worse,” Lillie finally said.

“You got it, boss!” Evangeline gave her a playful salute.

Lillie sighed. This was hopeless.

…

The drive home from the hospital was entirely silent.

Prismo and Scarab sat in the back of Mike's car, both facing away from each other. Mike glanced at them in the rearview mirror on occasion, eyebrows furrowed.

Neither Prismo nor Scarab had given him a clear answer of what had happened when they showed up at his door for a ride to the emergency room. Prismo tried to imply it was just some sort of cooking accident . What a ridiculous excuse.

Scarab refused to make eye contact with anyone, quietly seething and chewing at his lip instead.

Mike stopped at the cabin, giving them a goodbye as they stepped out. Scarab ignored him entirely, but Prismo mumbled a thanks and an apology.

After Mike drove away, the two stood out in the moonlight for a minute, Prismo trying to find something, anything he could say to help the situation. He was still pissed at Scarab, but the silence was killing him.

"I think I'm just going to bed," he said finally.

"Do you seriously think I care?" Scarab hissed. Now that his finger had been all stitched and cleaned up, the string had relaxed again, allowing plenty of space between the two.

"No. I guess not." Prismo reached for the doorknob and twisted it, but turned to look back at Scarab.

Scarab glared at him. So what if Prismo was waiting for him to change his mind and go inside with him? He wasn't going to give him that satisfaction.

After a full minute of staring, Prismo finally gave up and went inside alone.

There was a disgusting satisfaction at seeing the look on his face, the unspoken hurt, the anger. Scarab felt almost good, and why shouldn't he? Prismo deserved a lot worse than he got. Seeing things go wrong for him for once was amazing.

... right?

Of course it was. Scarab deserved to be happy about this, finally getting away from his god-awful roommate. He was never in love. He would never be in love. Not with him. 

He craved freedom. He just needed a new solution to free himself from the curse of the string, and he didn't care how long it took to get there, as long as he could be away from Prismo.

He walked down the road, ignoring the aching in his legs. The sky was growing dark, the sunset having just disappeared below the horizon.

Scarab figured he would just sit on a bench all night. Anything to be away from Prismo.

Town was quiet, as expected. Most people were inside, eating dinner and enjoying each other’s company, or whatever stupid stuff mortals liked to do. 

Scarab sat down on a bench, pushing down the urge to pick at his stitches. 

The church wasn’t too far away, Scarab could see it from his perch. The lights were on inside, unusual for a Thursday night, and it only served to taunt him of the home he wanted back so bad.

“Hey, Scott,” a voice nearby said.

Scarab jumped and whipped his head to see who it was, muscles relaxing slightly when he saw Lady smiling down at him.

“Can I sit?” she asked.

“... alright,” Scarab mumbled, moving over. She sat next to him, all the bracelets she had on clinking together as she held her hands in her lap.

“What happened?” she pointed a ring-adorned finger at Scarab’s injury, eyebrows furrowed in concern. 

“... cooking accident…” Scarab said, just planning to repeat the same stupid shit Prismo had come up with if she pressed further, although fortunately she didn’t.

“Jeez,” Lady winced sympathetically. She looked around at the quiet town and the shops closing up, trying to think up a change of subject, knowing Scarab wouldn’t want to talk about whatever had happened. “It’s a nice night out, isn’t it?”

“I guess.” Scarab glanced down at the string at the way it stretched down the road and disappeared.

“You wanna go for a walk? I was already planning to do it before I went home, but it would be nice to go with someone else.”

Great, more walking. Scarab sighed. He might as well. His legs could probably handle it, although he wished he’d at least thought of getting his walking stick from the cabin. That would have at least helped. “Alright,” he said, standing up.

Lady followed suit and offered her arm out for Scarab to put his own around. It was a stupid gesture, yet sweet. Scarab linked arms with her and they began their slow walk around town, looking around at the shops and front porches with old, unattended potted plants.

They approached the church at about the same time as Mike, who appeared seemingly out of nowhere and ran for the door until he saw them and quickly ran to a halt. His hand was frozen, in the middle of reaching for the front door.

“Hi, Mike,” Lady said, an edge of suspicion in her voice.

“Umm, hey!” Mike smiled nervously, glancing from Lady to Scarab. “What are– what are you two doing here? I thought you might be home.” Mike looked at Scarab on that last part.

“What does it matter?” Scarab said.

“It doesn’t! It doesn’t.” Mike turned the doorknob. “I’ll see you guys later.”

Before he could step inside, Oren showed up in the doorway. “You’re here. That’s good. What are you…” He turned to see Scarab and Lady, stiffening at the sight of both of them. “Oh.”

Mike gave Oren a confused look.

“You know what?” Oren said, pulling himself together. His posture was different. Familiar . He stood up a little straighter, his head held up like he wanted to be better than everyone else. “Why don’t you come in, Scarab ? I think I finally found a way to send you home.”