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“It hurts, Father. It hurts.” Little Parker was desperate enough to come seek his father in his office, one small hand nursing a damaged wrist. He fell off from one of their front yard trees and broke his hand. One of the guards had scolded him, muttering about spoiled brats who can’t just behave and play with their ‘stupid toys and expensive crap’. Sure, Parker had toys. Lots of them. His father’s money provided him with everything he needed.
Everything except attention.
He always wondered why Father doesn’t speak to him much. Did he do something wrong?
Oh how he missed his mommy’s hugs. She would probably kiss his pain away at once.
“The clinic is right downstairs, son. You go to the doctor.” Mr. Robbins didn’t even look up from his paperwork. Oh wait, he did, for one second, just to throw his child a disapproving look. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”
Little Parker thought of his classmates and friends at the playground. Of how their mommy and daddy immediately come to them when they get hurt. Of how his uncle rubbed Cousin John’s back to comfort him whenever he cried.
He didn’t need the doctor. He needed Father to wipe his tears, pull him in an embrace, and tell him that it’s going to be alright.
It was one of the guards who pulled him out of there. The next thing he knew, Parker was being shoved against a medical bed. He felt heavier, more rugged and more weary. His curls tickled his cheek. When did they get so long? He had no way of knowing. The entire room was covered in suffocating darkness. But he could feel it, somehow, that he wasn’t the injured eight year old anymore.
Suddenly, a gloved hand shot up from the void and snatched his wrist. Parker let out a scream, it almost drowned out the voice trying to shush him. He recognized it. Their family doctor. She was kind to him. But even her feathery light touch and soothing voice did nothing to comfort him.
His sentiments must’ve had offended her because Parker was hauled roughly off the bed. He landed face down on the pitch black floor. His throat seized up when one by one, pairs of hands rained on his back. Some were gentle caresses, others were gripping his skin painfully.
“Poor little Parker wants to be held.” One voice echoed, like it was coming from the pits of whatever this void was. The others broke into a laugh. “Poor little Parker wants to be loved.”
Like a prayer, they chanted their mockery over and over, their touches becoming erratic as their voices overlap each other. The words crawled up along Parker’s skin like insects. Very soon, the insects will reach his ears, nose, mouth and whatever hole they could crawl into....until they finally settle inside his brain to haunt him forever.
Parker tried to bring up his hands to cover his ears but soon, hands started grabbing his arms to stop him.
“STOP!” somebody thundered above everything else.
And then, with a loud boom, the many hands that groped him suddenly flew off his body.
A light flickered on at a distance.
Blood red.
Underneath it, a silhouette of a tall man stood still, watching him.
Fear should’ve gripped him but surprisingly, he felt his body going lax at the sight. Parker knew He would never hurt him. He? What was his name again? He wasn't sure. Did he ever tell him?. All he knew is that He was his salvation.
“Beautiful human.” a silky baritone greeted, a voice just on the edge of being humorous. “What have they done to you?” He asked in such a tender voice that made Parker want to break down crying and lay out all his suffering.
Sobs tore out of him. There was this...hole, in his heart. All his life, it has been longing for something he couldn’t understand. But for once, he felt fullness again as soon as He knelt down in front of his shivering body,
“I-It..it hurts.” Parker cried pathetically.
“Oh, I know, dear one.” The newcomer moved closer. Parker felt his breath hitch at the handsome, bearded face staring back at him. “But after your suffering, I promise you a beautiful life ahead.”
“Will you be there as well?” Parker swallowed nervously, gaze fixed on the smile on Mephisto’s lips. Mephisto, yes. That was his name. The smile fell, and Parker’s world stopped for a second, only for Mephisto’s face to gradually stretch into a gorgeous grin.
“Yes, Parker. I’ll be there with you...” Mephisto lovingly tucked Parker’s hair behind his ear before his palm met a wet cheek. It was scorching hot. Parker winced but didn’t move an inch away from the touch. It was painful, yet it was the only thing that ever brought him comfort. “...every step of the way.”
Mephisto gently laid his forehead against Parker’s as flames erupt all around them.
Parker Robbins woke up feeling lonelier than ever. He shot upright from the floor he was sleeping on, eyes scanning the room in the hopes of finding the silhouette from his dreams somehow materialize. Nothing. Only a cheap plastic table and a small TV stared back at him.
“Me...Mephisto?” he tried, voice weak, trembling, and pathetic. “C-Can you...can you show yourself to me?”
Silence. Not even the whispers answered back.
Parker slumped against a wall. The only thing from his dream that became real was that certain ache in his chest.
A sweaty hand ran up his face, and then through his wet curls. He wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Look at him, he meets one suspicious dude who gave half a fuck about him, flirts with him, treat him to an impromptu pizza date and he start acting like a needy bitch?
But could anyone blame him? Mephisto had given him more attention...and praises during the first five minutes of their first meeting than his own father in the twelve years they lived together.
Parker would’ve been contented with that but the handsome, enigmatic man needed to ask, ‘Do you mind if I stare at you?’ with the intent of saying that he’s beautiful. He had to utter a quick question of his own to cover up the sound of his heart rate dangerously going triple.
He hasn’t stopped thinking about him since then. Not when he had a taste of how it feels to be between someone’s arms when Mephisto put the hood on him. And now, Mephisto consumed his every waking thought. It was no wonder that he would follow him in his dreams as well.
Here’s the thing, Mephisto was perfectly aware of Parker Robbins lying to him. Hell,—no pun intended—the lad didn’t even realize that he was lying to himself. Wealth, stupid, disgusting, greasy wealth as something he wanted the most when he actually grew up having it? It wasn’t like his father kicked him out of the house without stuffing his son’s pockets with enough to get by.
No, the thing that Parker Robbins desired the most, was love.
Attention, respect, touches, praises, all of it falling under that desire. Unfortunately for the tricky devil, Parker was indeed pretty enough for him to let go of his bullshit and actually give the mortal what he deeply wanted, for a hefty price of course.
Ah, just what is it that draws him much towards this mortal?
Mephisto couldn’t wait to play his game, to run his sinful hands all over the other man, ink his symbols on Parker’s luscious body, make him feel special with his touches, count the freckles on his lovely face like he’s counting the number of souls he damned.
He couldn’t wait for the day when Parker’s obsession with him will run so deep that if someone rips off the hood, a piece of Mephisto himself, off him, he could only cry and cry about how much it hurts.