push-ups in drag

4; quintessential sinners

I have my hands wrapped around Gerard's upper arm, in every other spot of this edifice besides the spot we've been residing in for a while it's comparable to liquid nitrogen. We've found ourselves in a maximalistic room, with a fireplace, bookshelves, and devilishly comfortable couches. We're on the couch next to eachother, erstwhile Frank is trying to find where the cafeteria is so that he can swipe some chips. There seems to be a difference in the air in everyplace that isn't, what Frank calls, the throne room; most noticeably the fact that there is air. When I asked Gerard about it, they said it was to make sure the room didn't burn down.

Gerard sits with their head laying back on the couch to my left. There's a window behind him, and it's almost completely pitch black, besides the magma ground. The sky is vanta, and the magma is loud in sound but not in sight. Everything is very calm, including the fire in the fireplace.

"Lucifer's nice, huh?" I ask quietly, trying to break up some of the silence before I fall asleep. I pull my arms away.

"Yeah, don't bother with God. They're just stuck up assholes who mistreat their angels and keep egotistical corpses inside the gates. Hell has multiple layers, all of the genuinely bad people are inside the lava," they get a little smile and they lift their head for the couch and look down, "like Jacob," he looks over at me, expecting a reaction

I look back at them, and then to the floor. I let the warm air hit my lungs slowly, and mumble; "Thank Satan."

Gerard giggles, and Frank comes back into the room.

"Hey Frank, can I have a chip?" Gerard asks innocently, yet somehow managing to enrage Frank as if it's some sort of old inside joke, trauma, or a mix of both. Frank throws the bag at Gerards face.

"Bitch. Anyway, what now? Killing the dead?" Frank asks

"I'm not the one to ask," Gerard answers, "that's on Lucifer."

"Yeah, right, let me just go bother the God of hell. That's a great idea." He walks backwards towards the doorway, just barely not making it before stopping.

"I don't think he'll mind," Gerard laughs

"Twink," I whisper to Gerard

"HA- You're not wrong. Very much a power bottom."

"I'M NOT A BOTTOM, I DON'T SUCK DICK-"

Lucifer clears his throat from the arched open doorframe. He's leaning on it like a drug dealer in a alleyway, or like someone in a gay bar. Regardless, it's enough to scare the shit out of Frank when he turns around flinching.

"Are you sure about that?" He smirks, looking down at Frank. He lingers for a moment without a response, and then backs out of the room and leaves.

"Wow... PowerLESS bottom.. yikes." Gerard whispers to me

"No way you think the devil is hot-" I laugh

"Shut the fuck up!" Frank smiles when he turns back around. Even though it's dark, he's still visibly red.

"I told you he wouldn't mind being bothered by you," Gerard teases

"Go to hell," Frank flips us off as he leaves the room

"Little late for that," Gerard laughs

The room is quiet again. Gerards breathing consumes my thoughts, as there's not much else to besides, of course, how the fuck am I gonna kill the dead. They lay their head back and leave their throat exposed. I scoot away from him, and lay down on the large sectional. Even thinking about them like this leaves a draconian feeling in my chest. I hate it. Granular images of him flood my mind as I close my eyes. Even though it's a despondent and unwanted string of thoughts, my shaft seems to think otherwise.

I try my hardest to instead think of the lucid memories I have, yet I am still bested by Gerard in every field. I try and think of the moments leading up to the gunshot, but my thoughts aren't as pronounced as Gerard's voice was. With my sanity getting more and more unreachable as the minutes pass, my questions running rampant in my head, and the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion, I fall asleep.