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“Mostly,” Lauren?iu repeats.
“Yes. It was easy to get carried away, but I didn’t feel sorrow. I had to kill them. If I didn’t, I would be dead.”
Letting him speak, and not speak, Lauren?iu waits. Paimon raises and knits his fingers together.
He hasn’t spoken to anybody about this, not even Lucifer. The fallen angels understand that there’s no need to talk about their losses. What was the point? Everyone had regrets, and dwelling on them, admitting they were there, just makes everything worse.
“I killed somebody who I thought was the love of my life.”
Lauren?iu shifts his shoulders. “You thought he was?”
“We were split from the same star, him and me.”
Lauren?iu’s mouth is a thin line. A long silence follows.
Then, never one to beat around the bush, the vampire asks, “Why did you kill him?”
Paimon drags himself back to that day. His chest is heavy, and it’s as if to speak, he has to dislodge the truth, excavate it. It’s his turn to get lost in the stone where his heart once was, the impossible labyrinth.
Only one thing groggily brings him back to himself. He looks down to see Lauren?iu’s cool touch wrapped around his hand.
That’s what it takes.
“We argued, and he tried to stop me, but—but he wasn’t trying to hurt me. He was tugging on my wrist, begging me to stop. I was furious at him. I thought he was weak, a bootlicker. If he loved me as much as I loved him, why wouldn’t he just trust me? I trusted him, but in that moment, he betrayed me, and I was angry and full of scorching light.”
“He was scared,” Lauren?iu murmurs, but not with judgment. After all, he must've come to the conclusion that his own ex-lover, Anthony, had left him out of cowardice, not malice, but that doesn’t make the abandonment sting less.
A scowl. “He was a coward.” And yet, Cassiel haunts him, a ghost in his ribcage.
“You thought he was the love of your life.”
Paimon stares ahead. His visions blurs, but not with tears.
The Darkness tugs him down. He's kneeling in the foggy woods where angels landed and screamed, tearing at their burning feathers. “I don’t know.” He blinks sluggishly, trying to stop the sudden fatigue draping over his body. “Spending so much time in Hell, I’m not sure there’s any such thing. I can’t tell if Hell has opened my eyes or made everything so hard to see.”
“I’m sorry,” is all Lauren?iu says. It’s all that can be said. Only his strong but gentle touch keeps Paimon from leaving reality entirely.
“In Hell, we must make do with the ashes of what we once had.”
“What about here?”
Paimon stares. “What do you mean?”
“We must make do in Hell. What about here, on Earth? I don’t see much difference.”
Paimon rubs his chin and thinks fondly of their adventure, somehow both short and long. “I’m not sure. Earth has its excitement.”
“Hell isn’t boring if you’re in the right place. Giant three-headed dogs, lakes of fire, endless fighting in Wrath.”
“I suppose so. I might spend too much time in the palace, but it’s well.”
“More lavish?”
“Less depressing,” Paimon replies. “You know, we really need more diners in Hell. What’s a good name? Hell’s Bacon, maybe. Because of all the fire. I don’t know. You’re better with the puns.”
“If it’s in the Ninth Circle, wouldn't it need more of an ice theme?”
“That’s a little harder to work with.”
