Inky ^beta

Brutal’s dreams grew stranger every day. He wouldn’t call them nightmares.. No, deep down he knew that his midnight rendezvous with the angel were all he wanted and more. Yet he never felt alone in those dreams; the Pure in his dreams, there was some comfort to the vivid way that the angel whispered in his ear and promised him the world. It was always Pure, but not quite; perhaps it was Pure with a touch of the freak’s own madness. Even so, he would never dare to fight what felt right.

His most recent dream was stranger than most.

There he was, the very same Pure deluded by sin that would only visit Brutal in the dark of the night. He slipped off the jacket and the sweater beneath once more, stripping the angel of his modesty and unraveling what little sanctity he had left. This time, however, he seemed impatient.

”Mon Brutal, s'il te plaît..” He whined as dramatically as he could, reaching for the freak’s hand and pulling it to his bare waist. ”I need more.”

“Yeah, yeah..” Brutal pulled the angel above him down for a kiss, always enough to melt him completely; this time, however, Pure wasn’t so easily satisfied. “What’s the rush, love?”

The angel didn’t skip a beat. ”Don’t you grow tired of these dreams? Of only imagining what could be..”

The freak froze, suddenly feeling even less alone. “..What do ya mean?”

”You and I both want much more than imagination, ma brute.. Wake up.” Pure- if he truly was Pure, Brutal couldn’t quite tell- leaned slowly towards his ear and placed both hands on the freak’s shoulders, almost coaxing what he wanted out with his thumbs in circles. ”Wake up and touch me like you do in your dreams.”

He wasn’t given much of a choice; the world around him shifted suddenly. There was the same dark room and the same uncomfortable bed, with the only real difference being Pure sprawled in the opposite direction across the bed. He could’ve sworn something was wrong, or at the very least off; he was only granted enough time to see the angel’s sweater rolled up and the flush across his face before everything went to black.

His dreams were never so scattered, never such a mess so long as Pure was in them; when he awoke, he was only left feeling confused, incomplete. He first figured he should’ve done more, that the strange outlier of a dream was his regrets manifesting in a peculiar manner. At least his stomach felt better, he assessed.

“Shit.. did ya use a sick spell or somethin’, darl’?”

He didn’t think much of the silence until he turned over, yawning and stretching out in search of the angel, who had seemingly disappeared.

“..Darlin’?”

It wasn’t unusual for Pure to wander off to pray, he’d already done so a number of times while Brutal slept. Besides, the tether would’ve given them both hell if the angel dared to go too far. Right?

The freak grumbled as he pulled himself out of bed, reaching for the first ax in sight as he crawled out of the shack. Silence was much scarier than the usual sound of the angel’s prayers. He circled the shed once, twice for good measure- disbelief, really- and found nothing; though he doubted Pure could go for a stroll without setting off the tether’s death grip he saw no other explanation, wandering out into the desert alone without a second thought.

No matter how far he walked, paced, sprinted even, the tether never tugged at his neck with divine vice. There was nothing; no connection, no guardian angel.. no Pure.

Brutal collapsed to his knees when he’d accepted it; even if he knew his way back to the shack, he still felt completely lost. There was no warning, no goodbye.. He carried much more regret knowing he’d made the same mistake twice.

His feet made the journey back while his mind was elsewhere. It was hard to blame himself for trusting Pure, a man of unrelenting faith in honesty and grace; but if he couldn’t even place his trust in an angel, was there anyone left for him to believe in?

The wood carving he’d made for Pure stuck out the moment he crawled back into the shack. He dared to take it from its place, rolling it over in his hands as he sat down and considering how he’d destroy it; except he couldn’t, he would never bring himself to do it. The most he could do was hold it in his hands, bury his head in the sculpture as he found the single glimpse of emotion he needed to weep.

Pure had forgotten that Cupid’s own home was a romantic paradise, probably because romance had never really mattered before he’d met Brutal. Practically everything was heart shaped, the walls were a soft pink that contrasted the boxes of chocolate scattered on each and every shelf, some between roses and sparkly rings. He’d never cared so much for any of it before; now, Pure wasn’t sure whether he wanted to jump at the chocolate or wallow in his own regrets.

Cupid himself was, of course, unaffected; the temptations of love and even lust were nothing more than a job to him, the mortal desire was never strong enough to pull him in. Pure was well aware that he could never do the same, maybe even accepting that those irreversible aches in his heart were more than naive infatuation; still, he was beyond jealous of the fact that Cupid was granted such luxuries.

“Please, make yerself at home.. It’s good ta have ya back.” The love angel leaned in to give a cordial kiss on the cheek before sitting a polite distance away from Pure, who sank into the red cushion sofa like it was quicksand. “Ya must be exhausted. Sure, I’ve never been on dream duty, but I imagine it ain’t fun.”

“Non, it isn’t,” Pure was relieved to admit it, knowing Cupid was the only angel who would ever listen. He started to feel comfortable again, meeting the love angel’s glowing smile with a dry laugh. “It is almost funny.. You’ve made their dreams come true, and I’ve shielded them from their nightmares.”

“Well, I’m sure ya did a fine job,” Cupid patted his shoulder, inching cautiously closer. “Takes a real strong angel ‘ta be in that line ‘f work and make it out in one piece.”

Pure didn’t feel so strong himself; the weight of his sins made him feel like the weakest angel of them all. “Merci..” He looked away, only to lose his focus in the box of chocolates left open on the table.

“Now that yer back, I’ll try ‘n talk ‘em into lettin’ ya help me out ‘round here for a while. Helpin’ people fall in love, it’s a real doozy.”

The other angel didn’t hear much else. If he had his way, he would’ve snatched the box for himself then and there. Unfortunately, he knew better; that didn’t stop him from imagining the taste though, dreaming of Brutal feeding him those chocolates and reassuring him that he wasn’t going completely insane.

“Pure..- Pure, are ya listenin’?” His head snapped back to Cupid like a deer in headlights, failing miserably to cover his tracks.

“Hm? Of course..”

“..Yer droolin’.”

“Ah, mer-“ Pure bit down on his lip before the curse slipped. “..my apologies.”

“How ‘bout I give ya a break.. I’ll go talk to ‘em myself.” Cupid patted his shoulder once more, floating back onto his wings with a few worried glances before he paused at the door. “Stay as long as ya want, I know that cubicle ain’t exactly the dream.”

Pure leapt on the box of chocolates like a starved animal in an instant. Cupid was right, after all; this was the closest anyone could get to luxury in heaven, and he wouldn’t take it for granted.. Even if it wasn’t exactly his own idea of paradise. The journey back to heaven was exhausting on its own, but it was the meal- Pure might’ve been the only one to consider nothing but chocolate a meal- that made him even sleepier. It made sense of course, no other angel indulged like he did; he was just as lucky that he was suddenly privy to the one and only bed in the entirety of heaven.

Pure remembered the way; considering Cupid didn’t sleep in the bed himself, the bedroom was nothing more than another accessory to his eternal career, and so Pure had entered a number of times in search of something the much busier love angel needed. He felt bad for Cupid, that he’d never even used his own bed, which Pure quickly discovered was as comfy as a cloud. He wished Brutal’s bed was this comfortable.. but his cuddles made up for it.

”You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Before he knew it, the angel was whisked away into his sleep, and his demon companion’s will. ”Why did you even leave in the first place?”

“I am forever indebted to the lord, my loyalty is to him first and fore-“

”Will you shut up already?!” The demon hissed, bitterness and disappointment spilling into his words. ”You don’t even realize how much of a fool you are, how grave the mistake you’ve made is. Do you think this is it, that everything will go back to normal now that you’ve returned? What about him?”

The demon didn’t grant him much of a choice, painting the image of Brutal’s shack around Pure’s dream state, eerily silent and somehow messier than usual. Weapons thrown about, the freak sitting alone in the dark staring at his own battered fists. His eyes were red, a strange sight for the oblivious angel to behold; none of his sins had made him feel this guilty.

”Do you think he’ll just move on? You know you aren’t the only one to betray him like this, and yet he trusted you just the same.. you swore you’d never leave him, you died for him.. Are you proud?”

Even in his dream, he couldn’t move; no, the demon would force him to face his faults no matter what.

”Answer me.” He felt a hand grip his jaw, far from the teasing caress the demon had offered before.

“Non- non..” With all that the demon made him see, with all that he’d already experienced in his return, he couldn’t even pretend to accept this reality for much longer.

“Pure?! Are ya alright?” A familiar voice tore through his dream, echoing despite his other half’s resistance.

”Merde, that… crétin!” Though the demon’s grip loosened, he wasn’t finished just yet. ”Please, mon ange.. go home before it’s too late.”

The angel’s eyes shot open and everything was a blur, he could hardly even tell that he was in Cupid’s arms until the love angel yelled for him again.

“Are ya alright? Did somethin’ happen? Crikey, I knew ya didn’t look so good but I didn’t know..-“

“It’s alright.. I am fine, I assure you.” Pure lifted one hand to wipe what he’d realized was tears obscuring his vision. “I was just resting.”

“..Resting? Like- sleepin’?” Cupid tensed, an eyebrow raised in disbelief as the nimble angel sat up and shuffled away. “Ya know ya shouldn’t.. look, ever since ya got back somethin’s been off about ya. You can tell me anythin’, alright?”

In that moment of vulnerability, something in Pure broke. “I was.. assigned, to.. to-“ He fought back everything from tears to screams, too distraught to decline the hug he was pulled into or the pink cloth the other angel offered up to wipe his tears.

“Hey, hey..” Cupid would grant the other angel an eternity of patience if he truly required it. “I’ve heard some of the others talkin’.. I knew whatever they put ya up to had ta be important. Yer so sweet..”

“I’m sorry..” He wasn’t even sure what made him feel the worst, all he could do was pathetically accept the only comfort he would ever be granted if he stayed.

“So it’s all over, then.. That’s why yer back? Not like ya to abandon anythin’ given how tiring yer old assignment was.” Cupid tried to make Pure see the bright side; unfortunately, that only made him feel worse, and the sobs against his shoulder grew louder. “Goodness! Pure, sweet thing.. What is it? You can talk to me..-”

The love angel lost himself in Pure’s eyes; not just because of how enamored he was, but because it was clear he’d gone through much more than he’d expected to bear. “..Somethin’ happened, didn’t it?” He pulled Pure closer, the other angel trembling instead of offering him a response. “You made the right decision, coming back.. Whether ya accomplished anythin’ or not. I’ve never seen ya like this.. Yer not even a Seraphim, how could they assign ya to such a thing? I’m so sorry, lovely. If it makes ya feel any better,” he finally allowed Pure to back away. “They approved yer transfer, you can stay here ‘n help me if ya’d like.”

Pure already knew he couldn’t handle such a task. “I’ll need some time.. To think about it. Merci, pour tout.”

Truthfully, there was nowhere else for him to go. Pure felt very little here, he’d lost much of his attachment to heaven and the lord’s haven already. Each and every glare and whisper behind his back made him feel so much worse, pushed him further away from this place. He took his leave on Cupid’s balcony, not even willing to hear the scrutiny long enough to make it back to his dull, lifeless office.

He hated it here.