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Blitzø was softly snoring in Stolas’s arms. The imp had taken to sleep on the sofa with him some nights instead on the bean sack, even though it was way too small for the both of them – truthfully even too small for Stolas alone. But he would gladly squash himself into the cushions if it meant Blitzø could be comfortable. Near him. As miraculous as that still seemed.
The imp’s presence usually was enough to calm Stolas down but tonight even holding his love in his arms seemed to be unable to quell the thoughts invading his brain and leaving him unable to sleep. Carefully he extracted himself from behind the imp, trying not to wake him. Blitzø grumbled a bit, but turned around and kept snoring. Stolas couldn’t help but bow down and place a peck of a kiss on one of those beautiful horns. This was all he had ever dreamed of, all he had barely dared to hope.
Still the guilt clawed at him. How could he be even remotely happy, while he had made his own daughter miserable with his actions? Sighing under his breath he opened the door to the small balcony of Blitzø’s flat and stepped outside.
Cool night air ruffled through his feathers and he shrunk back into his hoodie. He thought about lighting a cigarette, but the pack was lying inside and if he was truthful with himself he knew they were barely even a band-aid over the gaping wound inflicted on his soul.
A sigh escaped his beak again, this time deeper and he walked towards the handrail. Down below the city stretched, countless lights and reddish smoke, so different from the place he had grown up in. Yet so similar. Softly he started singing his all too familiar lament.
“Out of your cage
you still engage
in hopeless foolery
you got your change
has it been worth it
turning this new page
Still you give me such hope
soothe the pain deep ingrained
as if I could become whole again
yet with all that has changed
just this thought feels deranged
how could anything be
deserved by one as me
Prince, nevermore
you’re waiting for
An end to this grim jest
drowning in sorrow
there’s no tomorrow
you should have always guessed”
“Stolas?”, mumbled a sleep-drunken voice behind him, making him start. Frantically he wiped at his eyes, hoping to dry most of the tears before turning towards the imp.
“I …” Stolas stammered. “I apologise. It was not my intention to disturb your sleep.”
Blitzø rubbed at bleary eyes and stepped through the door towards him. “Whatya doin’ out here?”
“Reflecting”, Stolas whispered, anticipating the well-deserved reprimand.
Insufferable. That’s what he was. Drowning in his own self-pity and not even having the decency to keep it to himself. Stella had been right about that much.
Blitzø didn’t screech at him, like his ex-wife would have. Instead he silently shuffled towards him and climbed onto the railing next to him. Stolas couldn’t help but fidget a little. If the imp was angry, he’d prefer Blitzø to show it openly. His patience with him could not be limitless. And Lucifer knew, Stolas had tried it extensively in those months of living together. He had always had a penchant for the dramatic, for loosing himself in his thoughts and feelings, for histrionics. In short: For being a whiny, self-absorbed little bitch. Blitzø had to notice at one point that Stolas was undeserving of his kindness.
“Didn’t sound all that happy”, Blitzø commented finally.
“Oh.” Stolas withered a bit. “How much did you- I mean … I am sorry for that. I did not mean to sound ungrateful. You are giving me so much, yet I-”
“Nope.” Blitzø’s tail started to flick around in agitation. “Not going there.”
Stolas wanted to apologise again, but of course, even his apologies only served to worsen Blitzø’s mood. So he straightened up and looked at the endless void of the hellish sky with its red dotty stars. He was a weak excuse of a Goetic demon. He was a failure of a prince. He was a cheater of a husband. He was horrible deadbeat of a father. He, He, He. He was only thinking about himself, going on and on like some broken tune.
Blitzø nuzzled against his shoulder, making a feeling bloom in Stolas’s chest, so warm, so tender and hopeful. So undeserved. For hadn’t one of his greatest crimes been the one against this imp sitting right beside him? Hadn’t that been how his downfall had started? How could Blitzø look at him with such softness in his eyes? How could he still want to be close to him, still want to touch one as vile as him? The feeling seethed inside of him, impossible to be contained. And even though Stolas had tried to keep it close to his heart, as to not upset his love any more, the words spilled out.
“I am sorry for having been so monstrous to you,” He whispered. “For keeping you a prisoner.”
“Again with the-” Blitzø interrupted himself and jumped up, standing on the handrail now and pushing his finger at Stolas chest. “When will you finally get it into that hollow bird skull of yours?! It’s fucking fine!”
Stolas narrowed his eyes and glared back. “It is not ‘fucking fine’. I have been using you in the most reprehensible way possible and there is neither any possibility nor the need to gloss over this simple fact!”
“Satan’s fucking taint!” Blitzø grabbed him by the shoulders. “How can someone so smart be SO FUCKING STUPID? So what if we had a contract? We both agreed to it. We both got something out of it. Stop fucking blaming everything on yourself already! It. Is. Not. Your. Fault. If anything we are both at fault here, yeah?”
Blitzø still kept talking, but somehow the words seemed to get lost in the static of Stolas brain. His sight went blurry. His breathing hitched in his throat. No. Not now. This was only Blitzø. It was fine. Everything was fine. He was safe, so why-
He was in that cave again, bound by angelic rope. Helpless. Without powers. At the mercy of a killer. Threatening not only him, but Octavia. A sharp pain. Black blood seeping from his shoulder. Another stab. And another.
“Shit! Stolas, what’s wrong?” There was an edge of panic in Blitzø’s voice.
Stolas shook his head and tried to steady himself on the handrail, to stop the trembling of his body and loose the afterimages of the memories assaulting him. His beak quivered, so he pressed it shut. Subconsciously he grasped at his left shoulder, feeling the scars the assassin’s dagger hat carved there, reminding himself it was over and regretting the movement as soon as he realized what he was doing. As fast as he smoothed over his feathers and put the hand back on the railing, he saw in the imp’s eyes the dawning understanding.
“I’m so sorry.” Blitzø’s voice was uncharacteristically small. “I didn’t mean to-”
It was too much.
“Don’t apologise,” Stolas snapped. “Not you. Not to me.”
As if Blitzø had anything to apologise for, when it had all been Stolas’s fault. He gripped the handrail with all the feeble strength he had left. It was pathetic. Why was he so powerless? So naive? So fucking self-centered? All he felt was the burning shame and anger at himself.
At his stupid fantasies. At his sickening weakness.
“I am sorry though.” Blitzø furrowed his brow. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I should have been. You called me because-”
“Because I was stupid enough to let myself get taken,” Stolas ended the sentence for him venomously. “Because of the childish notice of: Oh my, the knight in shining armor will come sweeping in and rescue the prince and it will be oh so romantic. Just like in my stupid fucking stories!”
Blitzø reached out, slowly, carefully. As if he feared Stolas would begin hyperventilating again. The imp should be livid, not try to comfort him! Stolas flinched back, hugging himself closely. Not because he resented Blitzø’s touch, but because he craved it. And did not deserve it.
“And now I cannot protect myself, even if I wanted to,” he squawked. “You had to save me from fucking Andy.”
“There, there.” Blitzø gently soothed him and drew him nearer with his tail. Stolas couldn’t resist stumbling closer of course, selfish demon that he was. Blitzø took his hands in his and drew little circles into his palms. The sensation served to calm Stolas down a bit and his shoulders slumped.
“I cannot protect myself,” he said miserably. “I certainly cannot protect you or Octavia. What use am I, then?”
“It’s not about being of use, Stolas,” Blitzø began. “And you are suffering-”
“I am overreacting”, Stolas corrected him. “It’s nothing to concern yourself with. You, Millie, Moxxie, Loona go into dangerous situations daily. And I am panicking because I got close to death once? It’s pathetic!”
“It’s been a lot Stols.” Blitzø’s claws had stopped drawing little circles and grabbed his hands tightly now, nearly strong enough to be uncomfortable. “And it’s certainly nothing to be ashamed of.”
Stolas felt himself nearly melt at that. The warm fuzziness in his chest, the softness in his heart, the mere hope: He was so close to letting himself get lost in the promise of Blitzø’s embrace. Yet still there was this voice in the back of his head, reminding him he didn’t deserve any of this. That he was not enough. And so he stood there in silence, avoiding the imp’s gaze and busying himself studying the cracks in the balcony tiles.
“You even beating yourself up about writing?” Blitzø asked after what felt like an eternity. “That’s why you stopped?”
Stolas scoffed. “It’s not real, it’s just escaping and I don’t deserve any escape into fairy-tales.”
Blitzø’s grip seemed to get even tighter and his tail flicking picked up too. Still his voice stayed soft. “You deserve to be happy. And wanting to be free is not selfish.”
So he had heard that, too, then.
“It is, in my case,” Stolas insisted. The notice of deserving happiness was too ludicrous to even acknowledge.
“Look.” Blitzø’s voice sounded strained. “We both misjudged the situation – hell, we both misjudged so fucking many things! You beat yourself up, I beat myself up.”
Stolas turned up his beak at that in a sneer. “Well, only one of us deservedly so.”
Stolas knew, he was being petty. Blitzø had been trying so hard to stay calm for his sake. He had tried to be the reasonable one. And those words of his were the last straw that had been needed to light his fuse. Stolas could see the red in the imp’s eyes, the rage. Finally. Finally he was mad at him. As he was meant to be.
“You feel you don’t deserve love?” Blitzø burst out, throwing his hands up as if Stolas’s had been burning him the whole time. “Well, big fucking newsflash, you think I do?”
“What-” Stolas began, blinking slowly. That was not what was supposed to happen. Blitzø was not supposed to be mad at himself.
Blitzø gesticulated wildly, tail swishing from side to side while he paced up and down the railing in front of him. “I push everyone away, I hurt all that get too close, all because I can’t fucking deal with my own problems. I’m horrible and I’m gonna die alone and I fucking deserve it! And you will be better off for it!” The imp’s chest was heaving from yelling all of that in seemingly one breath and finally stopped in front of him glaring. “That is, if I don’t fucking murder you before because I’m a careless, FUCKING IDIOT!”
Stolas ears rang from the vehemence of those two last words. But more than that his heart ached. He had known that the imp had issues. Had known of the darkness he carried around. But never before had it been laid so plainly before him.
“That is not at all what I see, when I look at you,” he finally managed to get out.
Blitzø crossed his arms and looked away. “Well that is what I am. So get fucking used to it.”
Stolas could not help himself anymore. He gathered the imp up in his arms and Blitzø seemed surprised at first but then returned the embrace.
“Wow, great job, Blitzø”, he muttered to himself. “Making this about yourself again.”
Stolas pressed his head against Blitzø’s and looked into his eyes, a sad smile forming. He had always thought each other so different, so contrary in their being. Right now though, it felt like gazing into a warped mirror. How could a being so wonderful have so much hate for himself? Distantly he wondered, if that was what Blitzø saw in Stolas, too. If all was just a matter of perspective, to see a monster or someone worthy of love. And if so: Who was right? Regarding Blitzø he knew the answer. Regarding himself …
“Don’t put yourself down so much,” Stolas whispered.
“Well, you started with that bullshit.” Blitzø shifted in his arms and buried his head in his chest feathers, avoiding to look at him. His body felt fragile suddenly, on the verge of breaking. A quiver went through the imp’s chest and Stolas pulled him closer. Carefully carrying the imp as if handling something precious, something invaluable – after all Blitzø was exactly that to him – Stolas made his way back to the balcony door, opened it with one claw and slipped inside. He settled down on the couch, the imp still securely contained in his grasp.
Blitzø was crying. Even if he tried to hide it, Stolas knew. He softly stroked Blitzø’s back while the imp buried himself so deeply into his chest as if he wanted to crawl inside. As if by instinct Stolas started to hum a lullaby under his breath, trying to calm his love. It was not unlike the lullaby he had sung to his daughter so many years ago, when she had still been a nestling. And as it had served to soothe her, it seemed to have a similar effect on Blitzø. Slowly, after a painfully long time, the shaking lessened.
Still with his head buried in his chest Blitzø mumbled something. It was soft, oh so soft, barely audible and certainly not intended for Stolas to hear. But his hearing was exceptional. And so he had heard something that was not his to know.
“I killed ma,” Blitzø had sniffled.
Stolas placed a kiss on the imp’s forehead, right on the heart-like tattoo. He could not fathom what had convinced Blitzø he carried such guilt and he knew all too well simply denying it could never clear the imp’s conscience. Even knowing felt like an invasion of Blitzø’s privacy, like taking advantage of his vulnerability. Blitzø was not ready to take on this darkness yet. But whenever he would be, Stolas would be there for him.
“I’m here,” Stolas whispered. “I love you, Blitzø.”
The imp finally turned his head at that and even though his eyes looked a little bit swollen he managed a smile that seemed genuine, before pressing his face back into Stolas’s feathers.
“Wuv u too, birdie,” Blitzø slurred.
There it was again. The warmth, the tenderness, the sheer uncontainable love with which his heart seemed to be overflowing. The hope that he could, in fact, become whole again and not stay the broken mess he was right now.
They could try getting better. Together.
For now Stolas would allow himself to be content to hold his love in his arms, hopeful they could face the future, no matter what pain it held, standing together side by side.
The end?
***
“Can’t sleep,” Blitzø grumbled after a while and rolled around to look at him. “I know you’re awake, too.”
“I am,” Stolas confirmed softly nudging his beak against Blitzø’s nose.
“Wanna read one of your stories to me?” Blitzø asked.
“Oh!” A surprised hoot escaped before Stolas hurriedly cleared his throat. “That’s … I don’t know. I told you, they are stupid.”
Stolas could feel his face heating, self-conscious of the pink that had to already be tinting it.
“Let me decide that.” Blitzø grinned, beautiful and toothy and his usual cocky self with a mischievous glint in his eye. “You’re cute, being all nervous.”
“I wouldn’t even know which to choose”, Stolas stammered. “And some can get really intense and- Did you call me cute? Stop teasing-”
Blitzø’s grin only seemed to widen. “The smuttiest one then.”
The imp climbed on top of him, sitting on his chest with a cat-like grace and pinning him beneath, while his tail began to search around below the sofa. He found the notebook of course and dangled it before Stolas’s face.
Stolas couldn’t help but gulp. There seemed to be such heat in this little room, all of a sudden. He blinked, trying to focus on the words on the pages instead of the imp being so close to him – being so much better than anything he could ever write, so much more than even his wildest fantasies.
“He froze, breath caught in his throat, as the other man leaned in. He could feel his warm breath ghost against his trembling beak,” he began reading, his voice unnaturally shrill even in his own ears. It didn’t help that he felt Blitzø’s breath caressing his cheek, making his feathers stand on end and making it fucking hard to concentrate on anything else. Still he kept trying. “His own breath faltered as their lips touched, his lover's breath hot and needy. Their breaths ... intertwined into one breath.”
They kissed, then, tongues twisting and searching for the other. And while it was sloppy and maybe even a bit desperate, it also felt real. It felt like a first kiss. And maybe that was exactly what it was.