holy

xxxvi

eddy could not breathe.

the angel's words had torn into his chest and pulled the air straight out of his lungs. the air left in the room seemed to push brett into the bedroom and shut the door angrily behind him.

the demon fell to the floor, clutching his chest and gasping for air. hard, unforgiving coughs wracked his chest and god, everything hurt.

he was sure that he was sobbing, but there were no sounds coming out. only hot tears making tracks down his face. never had a demon expressed such emotion before, but such was the prophecy.

every time he could manage a breath in, the smell of the angel was suffocating him in pain as it reminded him of the angel's words.

i do not love you.

i do not love you.

i do not love you.

this was a torture worse than hell.

•••

brett listened to the demon's heart wrenching sobs, holding his breath. it felt wrong.

it felt like he shouldn't have said those words. like they should have never even passed through his mind, much less his lips, and much less the air that existed in between him and the demon.

he pressed his ear to the door and heard a loud thump. it sounded as if something had fallen to the floor, hard.

every instinct was telling him to go back to eddy, but he couldn't. he'd had dreams like these before and they always ended the same.

blood.

screams.

pain.

death.

he was not going to let himself fall for it again.

just because this dream was so realistic was not a reason to trust the demon. he couldn't afford to.

brett pried himself away from the door, forcing himself to sit on the bed and stare intently at the window in the hopes that he could distract himself from the demon's cries.

it did not matter how hard he stared.

every sob was a punch to the stomach and brought unshed tears to his eyes.

he willed himself not to cry. lucifer is watching. he can see you.

but his will, like a brick wall, toppled easily once he heard the demon's heavy coughs.

eddy was sick?

demons don't get sick.

it was only seconds before his hand was on the doorknob, twisting it but not opening it.

he needed to see eddy. he needed eddy.

his hand released the doorknob.

he couldn't.

•••

eddy didn't know how long it'd been but he knew that by the time the sun disappeared he'd coughed up nothing but blood and puked up the same.

his entire body ached and his head pounded behind his eyes and god it was so cold.

he'd never felt cold before but he was sure it was the 3rd worst feeling he'd ever experienced in his life.

he was sick. the prophecy was cursing him.

or cursing them, rather.

eddy laid on the cold kitchen floor, unable to move as he felt his legs weaken and his wings go limp under the skin of his back.