Devils Den

9

"What was that all about?" Nathaniel questioned and sat beside me.

"Nothing," I dismissed with a shake of my head, staring down, not meeting his gaze.

Nathaniel nodded his head turning away from me, plating some food, not speaking another word.

"Actually," I started causing him to look up from his plate. "you wouldn't mind helping me and Felix, would you?"

His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he slowly placed his fork down. "You're not asking what I think you are, are you?"

"I am." I gulped nervously, afraid he'll decline and we'll get into an argument as Jude and I did.

"I said I would protect you. I meant it. What do you need me to do?"

ψψψ

"Felix?" I rap on his room door softly.

The door creaked open revealing his bedroom, the walls were made of stone–the room was freezing yet Felix sat in a ball in the middle of his bed, not a single blanket on him to keep warm. He sat on top of his navy blue comforters, the top of his fingers almost matching the color.

I wrapped my arms around myself trying to keep myself from shivering. "Felix?" I called out to him again yet got no response. I stalked closer in hopes he would sense my presence, however, he sat still. I reached for his shoulder shaking him to his senses. His hands fell limp to his sides as he fell onto his back. "Oh, my Go–Satan!" I gasped in shock still correcting my words.

His eyes were wide open, the grey in his irises faint. His lips were parted, tears stained his face old and new, and his chest heaved up and down shakily as if he was sobbing, however, his face showed no indication of that. He seemed distant, disconnected from the reality of Hell. He was stuck in his head, probably reliving his memories with Ren.

"Felix," I whispered again, tears welling in my eyes as I stared at his broken state.

He finally blinked coming back to his senses. "He liked the cold. My room was his favorite place to be." He lay in the same position as he spoke not daring to move an inch, reminiscing.

I didn't speak, I let him speak his mind, let him vent his feelings.

"I always told him I hated my room because it reminded me of my past—of the reason why I'm here instead of Heaven. Despite that, he praised my room yet despised his own. At times, he'd even ask if he could sleep on my futon just so he could admire it even longer than he already has—had." He corrected himself. "I'd always tease and bug him about sleeping in my room too often, but in reality, I loved when he did. His soft snores would put me to sleep when I failed to do so. His presence itself was calming. My nightmares stopped. It's like he was Heaven sent."

I tensed, however, Felix failed to notice, too caught up in speaking.

"The thick walls would keep his voice resonating. It was like a song, it calmed my dead heart. His laughter was precious, it made me realize I loved him. I didn't know I loved him until a year ago, but I wish I knew sooner. We were in the library one day, reading a poorly written erotica." Felix's lips twitched up at the memory. "Laying side by side, we laughed together at a sentence, turning our heads simultaneously, our noses barely touching. Our laughter stopped almost immediately. We looked into each other's eyes, and I felt it. I felt the warmth in my chest start to burn in an addicting manner, my pants began to restrict as I took in his features. I couldn't tell if he felt the same way. So, before it could progress, I excused myself and fled the scene. Now, I regret ever leaving the library. Ever leaving his side." He closed his eyes, sighing shakily.

"I believe he loved you." I cleared my throat. "Loves you. I believe he loves you. " I corrected myself.

"It doesn't matter what we believe." He frowned. "It matters what we know. And I know he loves me as his family and as his friend, nothing more." Tears appeared in his eyes and he let them stream down the sides of his face.