Dead Moon Chapel

twenty-two

JERICHO WATCHED ABEL CHANGE.

Not long after their exchange, Abel fell asleep. Though his rest was not fitful as it often was, Jericho remained by his side to watch over him. He had no need to sleep, and he couldn't think of a better way to spend his time than to make sure Abel was okay.

Abel fell asleep an angel, hair long and lustrous, spread out on the pillow like a halo. He wasn't transformed all the way, so he only had a few extra pairs of eyes, including one pair on his hands which draped gracefully over his stomach. Wings and eyes and halo be damned, his soft cheeks and long white lashes were the most ethereal parts about him. Abel did not have to be in this state to be a breathtaking image of celestial beauty.

Jericho was so focused on the parts of Abel that were always Abel that he didn't notice a difference at first. It wasn't until he rolled over onto his side that Jericho could see his hair had returned to normal. His shaggy undercut, that single small section of long, straight hair that was often weaved into a braid-Jericho had half a mind to braid it now while Abel slept.

Realizing that he was back to normal pulled him from his reverie, shoving the idea out of his head.

Human. He looked so impossibly human now. And yet, his face still held the youth of an angel. His white hair contrasted with the soft brown of his olive-toned skin like it was spun from the feathers of a wing. How did no one ever notice that Abel was special? He was a perfect picture of holiness.

Heaven was a boy fast asleep in a demon's bed, kissed by divinity in spite of his blasphemy.

After a while, Jericho could see the telltale signs that Abel was reaching the end of his slumber. He'd want something to eat, surely, even if he refused to speak up. In their brief time together, Jericho observed that Abel asked for things with his eyes. He never voiced his desires, as if he was afraid Jericho would ridicule him for making a request. Jericho was no mind reader, but he was smart enough to know when someone needed food.

He took a trip to a grocery store a few days prior while Abel was sleeping. He didn't know what he liked, but Abel ate anything he gave him without a fuss. Hopefully, it was a case of lucky guessing and not Abel suffering through something unenjoyable to spare his feelings. Knowing Abel, though, Jericho had no way to be sure, and he didn't think asking would make a difference.

Cooking didn't come naturally to him, so he kept strict adherence to every recipe he followed. Jericho was often successful in making something edible, even if it wasn't always perfect or pretty. Today was not one of those days.

The loud beeping of a fire alarm made Jericho jump, and he rushed to shut it off. "You stupid-be quiet, you'll wake him up," he hissed. The fire alarm screeched too loud to hear him. Also, it was a fire alarm and did not have ears.

Jericho batted at it unsuccessfully with a towel. When the noise did not relent, he smacked it off of the ceiling. It lodged itself into the drywall, reminiscent of a certain incident involving Abel and a copy of the Bible.

The squealing of the bedroom door informed him of his failure to shut off the alarm in time. Jericho's head dropped, and he turned to face Abel in shame.

"I'm sorry. I spilled while I was cooking and it burned," he told Abel. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Abel blinked the sleep from his eyes. They looked towards him, but they never really looked at him when he was like this. Jericho could always tell he was changing when his gaze grew sharp and focused. "I was about to wake up anyways. What are you making?"

"Um, some variety of pasta. I forgot what it was called."

"Mm." Abel stepped in front of the stove, swiping his finger through the sauce simmering in a pan. A large puddle of it pooled around the pot, now charred black and smoking. Abel didn't pay it any mind. "Alfredo. Tastes good."