The Midnight Men (Troyler) UNFINISHED

.1

Troye's POV
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"Son, your mother and I have to talk to you." My dad announced as he stepped in front of the TV, blocking my view of whatever shitty reality show I was binging on this time. I blocked out whatever he said, trying to maneuver my line of vision back on to the monitor. I craned my neck to the left of him and then to the right, groaning as I realized my efforts were useless. My dad huffed as he turned facing the screen then down towards the adjacent outlet. He tugged on the black wire causing it to fly out of the plug and therefore shutting off my current source of entertainment.

"Hey I was watching that!" I proclaimed stretching out my arm in the direction of the television, throwing my father a disgusted scowl.

"And I was talking to you! Now get your ass in the dining room!" He scolded, his body morphing into red, his skin into fire, his eyes pure black. I flew up from off the couch, stomping down on the floor once I reached it.

"Ok I'm going, chill!" My body also aflame, my pupils the same shade as his. Both of us nearly touching noses as our stances were unwavering. It was as if a dark cloud of pride and agitation created a Force Field around us, testing to see who would step out first.

"You are your father's son." My mother sighed with an almost happy facade (although I don't see what's so good about that). She was leaning against the arch to the dining room from behind the couch I was lounging upon so peacefully only a few moments ago. "Come now." She gestured to the two of us and we did as we were told, knowing we should probably calm down and follow her. Although my dad is the infamous Satan, my mother can be on a completely different level of terrifying than any other demon in hell. She's the queen of this shit hole, and even with my father being labeled the almighty ruler, Eve is respected and feared above all.

We sat down at the table, my mother and father parallel from me. My posture was poor, my legs fully extended, the expression on my face beautifully gleaming with a sense of 'I don't give a fuck'. The mop atop my head was raggedy and felt like tinsel, if depression was a fragrance you'd think I bathed in it, I had already hit rock bottom and didn't have the motivation to climb back up. All I had was a jackhammer.

"Honey we know you've been having a hard time lately-" mom began but was abruptly cut off by a loud familiar bellow that would have made me wince if I still had a grasp on emotions.

"Don't act like this has only been going on for a couple weeks! This isn't just a phase anymore, Eve! It's been three years, damn it!" I rolled my eyes and blew a hair away from my face.

"Yes I know, dear. BUT WOULD YOU SHUT YOUR DAMN TRAP FOR A BLOODY MINUTE! I GOT THIS!" The furniture shook and the rattling of the China filled my ears. But just as the fangs came out they retracted and she turned back to me, "Things in the Earth department have been getting out of control. You were our most talented and relied upon catcher, Troye." My mother glanced at my father for a fraction of courage before continuing after an inhalant of air, "What I'm trying to say is that we need you back at headquarters."

I snorted as thoughts of going back to that revolting astral-plane clouded my relaxed mind. The last time I went up there was when I practically died. In all the millenniums my father has ruled, he has never witnessed such an incident. It was just common sense to know that demons were immortal, indestructible, but that way of thinking changed three years ago when a team of catchers found me slowly shriveling away in the corner of Tyler's house. My leg had already turned to ash when they found me, rushing me straight to hell for healing and other methods of rehabilitation. To this day we're not entirely sure what happened, the five demons who retrieved me couldn't even describe my state as anything but "paralyzingly empty." I've always been taught that demons have no soul, no heart, we're just monsters with jobs. But that can't be true because how else would we find ourselves in love or infuriated or joyous. So if all of that wasn't true, what's going on inside this contraption of gray skin and black bones? What disappeared from inside of me so many years ago?

My thoughts were disrupted by a fist slamming against the table. The sound of wood splitting causing me to remember the conversation that commenced just before I spaced out. "I-I don't know about this..." I spluttered out, the creases between my father's eyebrows softening.

"Troye, we know what happened was unimaginably scaring, but we've been very patient with you and you know that. Now, before things slip from between our fingers and God gets up my ass about all these assholes in heaven, we need you to come back." His eyes were a lowly lit flame like a house candle waiting to touch anything dry and set it ablaze, "Please, Son." He pleaded through gritted teeth.

I searched deep inside myself, clamping my eyes shut, indecision crashing against my brain like tidal waves. My family and fellow demons have been nothing but supportive, always making sure I was healthy and finding new ways to try and cheer me up no matter how forcefully I pushed them away. All fears and emotional scars aside, I'm in their debt and they're in need of my help. Now is my time to return the favor and show my gratitude.

Plus, if God comes down here that means I'll have to hang out with his son. I think he has a crush on me or something. The thought alone sends shivers down my spine, goosebumps raising as I picture his beard and collection of friendship bracelets.

"Okay." I answer, shrugging my shoulders, my eyes now ajar.

"Okay?" Both my parents sung in confusion, cueing me to elaborate.

"I'll go back to Earth."