Chapter Text
A man knelt near the altar, hands clasped tightly. Hair styled in a neat way, bangs covering his closed eyes. His breath was even, people might mistake him for sleeping, if not for the quiet murmur escaping his lips.
A silver-haired demon stood near the wall. Teal eyes glanced around the room and saw that the man wasn’t alone. Several others were present, some kneeling like him, others sitting. Each prayed with varying degrees of devotion.
The priest was giving his sermon about something unimportant, and the others chanted back his words. Till paid them no mind, instead he focused back to Ivan, the nun who had his attention. He stepped closer to the taller man, wanting to only hear his voice.
As the priest concluded his sermon, the praying part came to an end. Ivan opened his eyes that’s vacant of emotions, and moved to a comfortable sitting position. In front of him was a large wooden carving of a man with angel wings painted in white facing the room.
Till spoke, “I'm way more handsome than that statue.”
Ivan lifted his head and turned toward the voice. Blank stares shifting in adoration, finally taking note of the demon’s presence.
Till was immediately reminded of the stars in the night sky. How they flicker gently, creating a sense of depth and fleeting beauty. How easy it was to get lost in the galaxies that were his eyes.
Ivan bit the inside of his mouth, trying not to grin. His voice was low, careful to not let other people hear. “Of course, that’s not you.”
Till grumbled even more. “Then why did he get a statue and not me?"
The novice tried to stifle a laugh, which ended up in a loud snort, earning him a side eye from the priest. He spared an apologetic glance at the priest and tried to control herself.
After regaining himself, he whispered back to the demon, “You should be proud of that, because no art in this world could capture how good you look in the world of the living.”
Sensing Ivan’s distraction, the priest shot him a silent glare. He straightened and resumed listening to the priest's next speech.
Till suddenly felt grateful that other people couldn’t see or hear the demon, so that they couldn’t see the blush creeping out on his face. Only Ivan could, that’s the special privilege that he had.
He pretended that he didn’t notice the grin on the nun’s face.
After what felt like wasteless time, the mass ended and he watched as Ivan bid each of the other people goodbye, and to see them again next week.
He scoffed. Those people shouldn’t come again. There’s no point, the god they were praying to wouldn’t grant any of their wishes nor did the god heard them.
Even gods, demons, deities run on businesses. A transaction was needed, a bargain chip, a payment, an exchange. You need to pay something to get your wishes granted, just a simple prayer wouldn’t do.
Till’s eyes rested on Ivan who apologized to the priest. The priest scolded him a bit for being distracted during the sermon. After the priest left, he saw Ivan grab a broom and began sweeping around the place.
Till cursed the priest to have nightmares for 3 days.
Sometimes, Till wondered, why did he offer that pretty man protection for free? The blood payment he paid has long since expired. He no longer had any obligation to stay by his side.
In times like this, he closed his eyes, recalling the memory: a young man surrounded by people, masked hiding their nose and eyes. A large gash running from his clavicle to his chest. The crowd cheered as he gasped for life.
Till thought, What a foolish attempt at a sacrifice. With modern knowledge, people should have known only the one whose blood was offered would gain a demon’s favor. It was common sense—the blood formed the contract.
The people cheered when he appeared, abandoning Ivan’s bleeding body to clamor for their own desires. They asked for more money, power, or to take revenge on their cheating husbands. Whatever.
He ignored the greedy ones and went straight to Ivan. His eyes were lifeless but Till wasn’t sure if it was from the blood loss or from the resignation. When he asked what he wanted, the weakened man answered. “I want to be free.”
And with that, Till killed all the people inside the room except for Ivan. They tried to run and screamed at the demon for being unfair. But when was there a time a demon was known to be kind anyway?
“It’s done. You’re free from those people now and you’re free to do whatever you want. Bye.” Till said nonchalantly, as if it’s just a regular Wednesday to him.
Just as he was about to leave, he took another look at Ivan and saw how the once lifeless eyes shone with red hues.
With whatever energy left from him, Ivan tried to stand and moved closer to the demon. His legs failed to support himself and he fell, hurting his elbows that instinctively braced for the impact.
Ivan tried to stand up again, but his leg refused to move. He tried using his hands to support himself, which he failed to do.
He gasped for air and coughed a lot before making eye contact with the demon.
Till stood there watching as Ivan struggled to get closer to him. He was especially mesmerized with his eyes, how those once empty eyes were filled with sparks. Within those, he also saw a tint of red, signalling fires that burned with desires to fight.
Without knowing it, he stepped closer.
And with that, he was reminded of the reason why he stayed. He remembered healing Ivan’s wound but it still left a scar on his pale skin.
It was the reason why Ivan preferred to wear modest clothing, it didn’t cover all the scars, especially the one that was near the neck area, but it was enough to let people know that he didn’t want to talk about it.
It was a shame, Till thought, Ivan should wear more revealing clothing. He should show more skin, show off those scars to the world. If there’s someone who made fun of him, Till was ready to make their life a living hell.
Because despite all the painful memories tied to the scar, it was still his first connection with Ivan. Call him selfish, yes he was. But if Ivan didn’t want to, he wouldn’t force him.
He was still annoyed though, with the fact that Ivan forgave the people who had hurt him before. They were already dead, he said. They already got their punishment, he said.
Anger began building up inside of him. Ivan should have been more bitter than he was, but he wasn’t. There’s a limit to how apathetic someone can be about their past. Ivan should allow himself to blame the situation instead of himself.
Ivan was stupid, he should have let out his emotions by screaming or asked him to torture their souls in hell.
Till caught himself before he was getting distracted even further. Ivan was safe now. Till was there to keep him safe from future dangers.
He noticed Ivan already finished with cleaning the place and now got ready to go home. Ivan passed him a nod as a cue, and Till followed his steps by his side.
While walking, Till asked, “Why won’t you leave that crappy place?”
“It’s not crappy! It’s a place for worship.” Ivan faked a gasp, he acted like he just heard a scandal about huge artists on TV.
Till could never understand why Ivan still chose to go to church when he already had him around. So he asked her. Ivan’s body tensed before she answered, as that was how he had been told to do since childhood.
Ivan stopped talking and Till started to regret asking. He felt like there was something more behind the reason.
The walk got a bit awkward and Ivan noticed the tension so he tried to lift back the mood by teasing the demon, “Well if you want a church dedicated to you, you can say so in the first place. I will be your first follower.”
“Do you think someone would follow a demon who only brings death?”
He entertained the idea of having a follower for a bit, before feeling repulsed. People’s greed was a nuisance. They were never satisfied and always wanted more. He’d learned that the best solution was to silence them early; the dead couldn’t desire for anything.
A soft voice pulled him back from his thoughts. “I will.”
Till looked at Ivan, who smiled at him, which revealed his snaggle tooth which he adored. His features softened by the moonlight glow.
He held his breath, captivated by the tender look on Ivan’s face. Till wanted to keep this sight in a painting only for his eyes to see.
Ivan continued, “You are my savior after all.”
He didn’t mind Ivan being his follower, something about the idea excited him.
One thing he also liked about Ivan, is his voice. How his laughter feels like feathers. It was warm and rich like honey. His voice had the power to enchant someone like a siren, and Till was a willing victim.
It delighted and sent shivers down his spine at the image of his prayers being meant for him only.
Till grinned back at her, “That doesn’t sound bad.”