Cherub.

3

"It's not entirely what you think it is," Kahlo expressed at the angel with his head resting on his lap, sniffling as he cried softly. "Being ran out of home is more freedom than anything I've ever come to know. Don't leave." He was now pleading, rubbing his hand on the back of the angel—comforting him as he weeped, tears now forming in his own eyes. Seeing an angel cry was a feeling he despised—it was a sight that brung tears to his own eyes, no matter how much he tried to hold back the salty liquid from beginning their race down his cheeks. It was as if his eyes burned yet he couldn't look away—he was forced to watch in a choked desolation as the celestial expressed his sorrows.

"I miss home." Angelo weeped, tears staining the pants of the demon he rested on.

Despite the many cliches about the two opposite beings—they held no ill feelings towards one another. Kahlo considered the cherub a friend. Angelo too considered the defiant demon someone dear to him. "Cael despises me." More tears formed as they sat in the pews of a church, his eyes focused on the Bible before him. Kahlo's eyes were set above, his gaze set on a painting on the ceiling—he thought humans were undeniably creative. He was envious; being a demon gave him no artistic skills—so he thought.

"Cael does not hate you," Kahlo reassured, resuming his soothing rubs on the aching back of the angel. "He just doesn't understand you, G." Angelo scrunched his face at the odd nickname but replaced the expression with a soft smile as tears continued falling from his eyes—their color was no longer gold but a clear salty substance. "And about urm," he shifted uncomfortably. "The God thing—a lot of kids on Earth have an absent parent so don't feel so alone on that one."

"Please," Angelo sniffled, wiping his tears. He'd probably been too rough since he now felt a burning sensation on his cheek. "Your father is Lucifer. He's a great dad."

"Easy to say when you're on the outside looking in, G." Kahlo sighed, now focusing on the empty stage at the center of the large church. Despite the stereotypes in the poorly written book before him, demons did not hate anything holy. Kahlo loved church! He held no ill feelings toward God and the angels of heaven—he only held curiosity. He wondered what it was like to be above it all, with many wings sticking through his back and many eyes, causing him to see everything possible—Kahlo thought angels were lovely in their true form. He was extremely jealous of the glowing ball of mass behind their heads; Kahlo saw them described as rings floating above their skulls and that made him laugh. If only humans had the luxury of laying their eyes upon something so glorious—maybe they wouldn't sound so ridiculous spewing their own personal beliefs about a world that only celestials had come to know, the demon often thought.

The only thing the young, lonely demon was gifted by being born below stomping feet and raised to ignore the confused voices of the damned, was his tail—and his horns. That 'folktale', however, was true. But they did not glow a crimson red and stick out humorously on his head—they looked painful and were. His horns grew from his skull, causing skin to grow around them and blood to flow through them, his tail as well. He flinched at the remembrance of the mutilation he went through to blend in, his fingers tracing over the light scars on his forehead. "That's true." Angelo mumbled, snatching Kahlo from his own world of sadness and nostalgia.

"I know what you need," Kahlo blurted, making the older celestial sit up. His urged him on with his eyes, tears drying on his puffy cheeks. "A person."

"What, Kahlo?"

"If you ever want to kiss someone," The simple word caused the awkward being sitting near him to blush—his ears burning with a tint of red as he tried to mask a childish smirk from creeping onto his face. "I have a list of good, clean people—humans taste sweet, as long as you don't get carried away." He added vaguely, eyes darkening with secrecy and mischief.

"No," Angelo quickly said. "A person?" He mimicked again.

"Yes, you old winged freak!" Kahlo said louder than he anticipated, causing his voice to echo. "Someone to go out with and hold hands, and talk to and hug with the intention of never letting go." He mused, feelings of warmness filling him as his mind drifted to love. Oh how the word filled him with a certain feeling he wasn't able to describe—he felt like he would explode into a pile of rainbows, teddy bears and gum drops. A wide smile spread across his face, causing him to look almost devilish—Angelo mimicked the expression, not sure what emotion Kahlo was experiencing.  "Someone to keep you company on lonely nights." He added, softly speaking as he fell deep into thought—his own thoughts wandering to his personal love interest.

Celestials had such a short attention span.

"I had ice cream with someone," Angelo thought aloud. "But that's only it. And we talked too."

"Really?" Kahlo asked excitedly, straightening his posture on the uncomfortable bench. "What was she like?"

"He was...nice." Angelo corrected. "I haven't seen him since but I don't seem to mind seeing him again?" He seemed to question rather than state—wondering what sparked a sudden interest in the mortal.

"Oh," Kahlo felt his heart flutter. "You're in love with a mortal boy?"

"I'm in love with no one, Kahlo." Angelo chuckled.

"How does he make you feel?"

"I don't know. We've only stumbled upon eachother twice–he's my friend."

"Does he make time feel nonexistent? Do you feel like a puddle of mush? Does your stomach feel like moths bumping together when you–"

"Kahlo, what are you babbling about?" The celestial laughed aloud, falling back onto the bench as he became hysterical.

"I think I read too many romance novels." The demon sighed. The angel straightened himself as he contained more contagious laughter.

"He's nice." Angelo added. "And funny but celestials cannot fall in love with mortals, even if that were the case–which it is not."

"Says who?"

"My Father." Angelo reminded.

"Is he down here to stop you?" Kahlo's voice held an urging tone, as a smirk was formed with his full lips. Angelo hated to think it, in fear of it slipping from his mouth but demons were so oddly good at coercing. "I intend to break you of that purity you hold so dear." He chuckled, causing Angelo to laugh as well. The cherub seemed to find humor in everything, without even intending to. "After all, nothing about Earth is pure, G."

a/n:
in some dimension, kahlo is my husband ...js ;-;