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Chapter 1 (or, how Lucifer totally killed the mood)

Chapter 1 (or, how Lucifer totally killed the mood)

Realizing that Blaze's chances of survival were slim after being crashed into by a speeding car was the hardest thing he had to that day. He was still buckled safely in his seat, but he was thrown sideways from the impact onto the joystick, which broke two of his lower ribs (they were protruding from his chest, which was the only way he could tell). Every breath seemed like a marathon he couldn't quite complete, and every movement seemed like he was trying to lift a boulder with only his pinkies. 

He looked over to his boyfriend, Sawyer. Unlike a few minutes ago, his significant other was no longer sleeping, but was staring wide eyed at his face, hovering a few inches about his. He was alive and in stable condition, but Sawyer knew that Blaze was not. He only had a few minutes to make things right.

"I didn't mean it, Blaze. I was drunk," Sawyer started, hoping to be able to continue the pathetic conversation with his barely conscious boyfriend. If they even were that anymore.

"You don't just," wheeze, "kiss a girl," wheeze, "when you're," wheeze. Blaze worked up the courage to finish the sentence. "When you're in a stable relationship with a man."

"This was never stable, Blaze." When Blaze started to close his eyes, Sawyer thought better of what his last words should be. "Hey, baby. . . Open your eyes for me, okay? Stay strong. You know I love you."

Blaze focused on what he could to try and block out the black sheet threatening to cover him. Sawyer's breathing. The distant sound of sirens. The light from the moon. The smell of copper.

"If you loved me," wheeze, "you wouldn't have done it." Blaze stopped to think about all the good things they had in their relationships. The kisses and laughs. Their late night stories and movies they would watch, curled up on their red leather couch. Blaze didn't want to leave, and as much as he hated the feel of disgust whenever he thought about the girl Sawyer kissed, he didn't want to leave him either. "But I promise. . ." that I'll go through hell and back for you.

Sawyer looked quickly from Blaze's left eye to his right, desperate for the end of the sentence. He reached up and  grabbed the other's shoulders, suddenly panicked. "What? What do you promise? Talk to me Blaze, baby, talk to me. Don't leave me."

A chorus of sobs suddenly ripped though Sawyer, causing him to shake violently and to shake his boyfriend with him. The joystick that had broken his ribs further implanted itself into his body, causing more blood to come out. Blaze turned a sickly white color.

"Okay, come on. We don't have time." A new voice said, opening the door on the driver's side of the car.  

Blaze felt a wave of energy wash through him. He was able to get off of the joystick and turn his head towards the source of the voice, only to find a hooded man with blazing red eyes. He turned back to look back at Sawyer's eyes one last time, but Sawyer wasn't looked at him at all. Sawyer was shaking his dead body with reckless abandon, trying desperately to wake him up. Blaze's blood leaked over Sawyer's chest with every shake.

"Let's go, we don't have any time," the hooded man urged, his eyes flickering from his dead body to his actual body. If he could even call it that. "The Gates are only open for a few minutes after the soul has been collected."

"The what? After what?" A dark thought dawned upon him. I'm dead and I'll never get used to it.

"Of course you're not going to get used to it. And quite frankly, I don't care. Let's go to hell, pretty boy."

"You can read my thoughts? Do you have, like, ESP or something?" Blaze asked, bewildered that the hooded man could have possibly guessed what he thought. Maybe he was sent here to kill Blaze a second time. Or to kill Sawyer. Don't kill Sawyer.

The sirens from before grew closer, and before he knew it, an ambulance and a police car stopped in front of his black convertible. The paramedics immediately got to work, opening the car doors and looking for survivors. The found Sawyer instantaneously, pulling him away from Blaze's dead body and away from the car, onto a gurney headed for a hospital. They then inspected the dead body, noting its injuries and position before finally pulling him out, too. They placed him onto a black body bag and zipped it up. They didn't even notice Blaze and the hooded man standing next to the car.

"I'm not going to kill your sad excuse for a boyfriend, sweetheart. And, if I recall correctly, he just cheated on you. Most would want to kill their significant other if they pulled something like that. What is wrong with you?" The hooded man rolled his flame-y eyes towards the sky and cursed for while, complaining about his job and about the stupidity of the soul he just reaped. "And of course I can read you thoughts. I'm a Reaper."

"Like Lucifer?" Blaze had a moment of panic. Did Blaze just have a conversation with the Devil? "Wait, am I going to Hell? I didn't do anything wrong!"

"No, I'm not Lucifer. And, besides, if I were Lucifer, you'd be past the after-life, if you know what I'm saying," the Reaper gave him a pointed stare, but Blaze had no idea what he was referring to. They had been civil enough. "Everyone is judged in Hell, sweetheart. Let's hope you're haven't been naughty this year." 

Blaze's eyes got as wide as saucers. What if he had to stay in Hell for the entirety of Afterlife? He would never get back to Sawyer.

"Shut up about your cheating boyfriend, Blaze. Learn how to take a joke, too. You'll never survive in the Afterlife with the personality of a rock."

The Reaper suddenly stepped forward to where Blaze was standing and stared intently into his eyes. His red eyes held something in them, but Blaze couldn't quite guess what the Reaper was thinking, most likely because he was a Reaper, but still. Something inside of him wanted, no, yearned to understand the dead man and what he had gone through in his life. The Reaper cupped his hands and gravitated his face towards Blaze's, like he was leaning into a kiss.

"Don't get too attached, honey-bear. This doesn't mean anything." He whispered before closing the distance between them and pressed his lips against Blaze's. 

Does this count as cheating? Blaze thought, helpless under the Reaper's grasp.

No, sugar-pie. Just go with it. So he could read the Reaper's thoughts only when they were kissing. Interesting.

But before he could revel in the kiss' simplicity and depth, he was pulled down, deep into the Earth at its very core. He was falling for what felt for hours, never once letting go of the Reaper or his hood, letting the spawn of Satan drag him deeper into an abyss. One second he was standing in front of his destructed car, but the next he was in a rocky room that felt like a sauna.

"Is it hot in here or is it just Hell?" The Reaper asked, smirking at Blaze's confusion as to where he was or what the Hell just happened. When he looked over at the Reaper, he saw that the hood that had previously hid his face was off and an extremely handsome man was revealed. He had honey blond hair styled in a quiff and a light dusting of freckles lined his cheeks. "Don't get distracted by my dashingly good looks. That little kiss was just to get down to Hell. We like to call it the 'Kiss of Death.' Maybe you've heard of it?"

Of course it didn't mean anything. The kiss was simply a rude awakening to what his new life, or rather Afterlife, was going to be like. People kissing him without meaning it and Blaze being just as good as Sawyer. What if Sawyer had moved on by the time he could have gotten back? What if he had moved on? 

"Shut up, pretty boy. We've got a minute or we'll both be vamps."