"Semi-Short Stories" [ Story Collection ]

Father Issues [] 10/11 []

The front door was unlocked.

"Alright, asshole. Come out come out wherever you fuckin' are."

Draco doesn't care to close the door behind him, so Matthew closes it when he steps into the house himself. He's watching Draco peek his head into the nearby rooms. The front door opens out into a foyer, which opens out into five rooms: on the direct left is a dining room; the direct right is the sitting room that Matthew supposedly had sold his soul in; behind the staircase (on the left) is a door leading to a kitchen (which is connected to the dining room via a second door); directly across from the kitchen is a library that opens into the sitting room; the last doorway, parallel to the front door, turns into a hallway that you have to turn to walk down, rather than continuing to walk a straight path. A large mirror, and their reflections, can be seen through the center of the doorway.

It's all bathed in varying shades of red light.

"Is all the yelling really necessary?"

Samson, donning all black, is descending the stairs. His movements are silent and graceful - he's already on the bottom step as Draco turns to see him, which makes the boy jump.

"Is selling my boyfriend's soul necessary?"

He tilts his head, a look of confusion on his face. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Because we want it back. That's why."

Matthew is watching from the background. His eyes keep darting from one place to another, and he flinches every once in a while.

"But why would you want it back? This was Matthew's choice...he made an oath. A blood oath, at that. I'm sure even you understand how difficult it is to break a blood oath. Especially considering who's on the other side of it..."

"Who, fucking Satan? This is all bullshit. It's all in your head, old man!"

"Now, Draco... You wouldn't be here, trying to undo this deal, if you didn't believe at least a little bit...that this isn't all in my head." Samson reaches over and flicks Draco's forehead. "And I am most certainly not an old man."

"Don't touch me." He slaps at his hand, though Samson had moved away in time to avoid it.

"Anthony." Samson looks around. "Would you mind entertaining my son while I talk to Draco? He seems to be distressed. Well, both of them do, actually." His attention moves to Matthew, who is muttering under his breath, to something only he can see.

Anthony had been in the sitting room, just out of Draco's sight. He swiftly enters the room and gently places his hands on Matthew's shoulders. "Of course. I'd like to have a talk with him anyway." About Sam, no doubt. Since Matthew isn't entirely there mentally, he only has time to shoot Draco a worrying look before he's lead to the hallway. Once the two disappeared from sight, Samson drapes his arm around Draco and pulls him into the sitting room.

"We gonna talk about how to get Matthew's soul back?"

"No, no...That's not possible. A deal is a deal. Sit." Samson takes a seat in his armchair, where he always seems to sit. It's his favorite chair. A man of the house chair. The chair that every dad has - "alright, let me have my seat back"; "you better not get crumbs in my chair"; "lookie there, it's remembered the shape of my ass. I didn't know it was memory foam!" The Dad chair. But this isn't an ordinary Dad chair. No, this was the chair and the image of a man who knows his worth and his importance. Someone who knows what he wants and exactly how to get it.

Draco sits on the couch, as far from Samson as possible. "Then what are you wanting to talk about?"

"I was under the impression that you were wanting to talk about something." He crosses his legs and places his hands on his knees. "Isn't that why you're here?"

The only noise is the clicking of the grandfather clock somewhere in the background. Draco takes a breath before speaking.

"I want to switch with him."

"Switch?"

"Give him his soul back, and take mine instead."

Samson...laughs. Draco grows red.

"It doesn't work like that."

"Well, it should!"

"Alas, it doesn't. Matthew has to dedicate his soul to Him if he wants to be the Father of the antichrist."

"He doesn't want that!"

"It's His plan."

"It definitely isn't Matthew's plan."

"Not his. His. My Lord. What He says will be done. It was set into motion when Belial and Sam dedicated their souls. There's no stopping it now."

Draco looks defeated. Whether or not he believes this to be true, he knows there's no use trying. Why argue with a man with severe schizophrenia who believes that Satan has given him a prophecy?

"However..."

He looks up. "However?"

"When I dedicated my soul years ago, I had to do it alone. For a while, at least. Everyone was different after that...I was on a different level than all the others. I had no one to relate to." He stands, hands clasped behind his back, and slowly makes his way to Draco, who also stands.

"Your point?"

"Belial will have a tough time adjusting to this, I'm sure. But if you were to join him..."

Draco opens his mouth to speak, but decides against it.

"You would get something out of it, of course. Whatever you want. You know, Belial and Sam are going to be blessed with very high ranks when they pass on. Considering your relations here, I'm sure you could get the same in return. You'd be together in life and death. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Draco rubs his fingers along the palm of his hand.

In it's own twisted way, it does sound nice.