Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Gabriel hated to admit it, but he was lost. Not just in the physical, literal sense, but in every single way possible. Like a forgotten childhood toy caked in mud under a shrub. Like a fish in the Sahara Desert. Like a dog left to its own devices after the death of its owner. Like a sock that had fallen behind the washing machine. Like an archangel that had lost its purpose in life.

Gabriel knew where he was, or at least pretended he knew. The sky was magenta like that of the layer of Lust, but his surroundings were so unfamiliar. He'd seen its-

Best not think of that.

Around Gabriel were heaps of crumbling concrete, shattered glass, and splintered wood. Destroyed buildings, that much he knew. He wasn't stupid. The roads he traversed upon were cracked, potholes full of muddy water which he occasionally, deep in thought, stepped into. Damned potholes, did no one-

Oh, right. He'd let that blasted thing feast on the denizens' blood like they were Capri-Sun pouches.

What did it matter anymore, anyway?

Gabriel was growing tired. Though he knew he didn't need to rest, he was quite literally created to be perfection in form, his mind was yearning for a moment of slumber. A moment to be free of thoughts. Though, sleep was not restful either. Nightmares, nightmares, nightmares... That damned machine's cold, metallic hands around his throat, its gun pressed against his temple, his own blood pooling on the tiles beneath him, his own raspy breaths, the machine's disgusting whirring, its fans blowing hot air on his face, the stench of blood, the-

Butterflies fluttered in his chest just at the memory.

With a heavy sigh, Gabriel made his way into one of the buildings that still stood. It was one of those apartment blocks, whatever mortals had called them. Not that they were there an-

Stop. Thinking.

With an even heavier sigh, Gabriel shook his head to rid himself of these damn thoughts. He then made his way up the stairwell. He didn’t know why, but he loved places that were high up, it was almost as if they were calling to him. No, no, he wasn’t a bird. It wasn’t ‘the bird instinct’. To Hell with whomever dared compare THE archangel Gabriel to a fucking bird-

Good old days, yes. Or bad old days, whatever. He missed those days nonetheless.

Gabriel made his way to the topmost apartment. Everything in the building had already been ransacked; curtains from the windows, sheets from the beds, even the wires from any electronics. It was truly a miserable place, but at least it offered some shelter from the weather. The cupboards in the kitchen were torn off the walls, the windows busted, and the floorboards pulled apart in search of any hidden treasures. The bedroom wasn’t off any better. Mattress stolen, slats snapped in half, bedposts sawed off. 

However, a couch in the living room was surprisingly intact. Though it was missing one of the back cushions, it was barely torn at all… and didn’t smell like vomit. Or other, less holy, bodily fluids.

Weary, with his limbs aching horribly from all the walking, Gabriel lay down on the couch, covering himself with a torn cape he’d snatched off of some corpse. After a wash, it still reeked of death and decay. Perhaps he’d just washed it poorly. Perhaps the stench wasn’t actually there, and it was just an olfactory hallucination. Perhaps Gabriel himself was the one that smelled of death. The possibilities were endless, none of them pleasant.

Rain tapped on the patched-up tin roof above Gabriel, and wind howled through the apartment. Great, just great! Another storm! Excellent, just his luck.

Gabriel cursed under his breath, wrapping the torn cape and his wings tighter around himself. He wasn’t about to let some quirky weather ruin his rest. His thoughts once more wandered towards that blasted machine, how it’d absolutely annihilated him more than twice but less than thrice. Their third encounter didn’t count. It’d spared his life, like the asshole it was, not putting the disgraced archangel out of his misery right then and there when it had the damn chance-

He was getting pissed off again.

Yet he continued recalling their moments together. How exhilarating it had felt to be so utterly, thoroughly powerless. To have his entire being dangle in the balance of some glorified toaster’s whims, to be tossed around like some wet rag left out in the rain for weeks. How it felt to have every cell in his body crack as he slammed against the tile floor, to have any semblance of grace stripped from him. It had fought him like an animal, just as he’d asked, no, begged of it. It had scratched and torn at his body, devoured any of him it could. Like a starved animal. Perhaps he was a starved animal, too, just a different kind of starved. Starved of affection, of touch, of anything to make him feel anything other than that agonising-

Thinking like this wasn’t going to let him drift off to sleep.

So, Gabriel thought of other things. Those two kings, who’d escaped their prisons. Or rather, had been freed of them. That cursed machine, incompetent enough to let them free yet not be able to defeat them. How stupid could a fucking camera on legs get? And now those two were out there doing Lord-knows-what! Not that it mattered, everything was fucked anyway, but… He just hoped they wouldn’t find him, he’d be no match to them in this miserable state of his. Sisyphus? He’d definitely pulverise Gabriel’s ass. Minos, however? He couldn’t be sure. Last Gabriel had heard, the King of Lust was pissed when released. But maybe, perhaps, he’d take pity on a pathetic little archangel who’d lost everything.

No, Minos would deck him too.

After rolling around on the couch for what felt like hours, the rain tapping away on the roof, Gabriel sat up. This was pointless. He wasn’t able to fall asleep now, so why waste his time here? 

The best course of action would be to scavenge for any kind of supplies. Maybe the palace still had something? No, Minos would probably be there and that wouldn’t end well. Though… Gabriel did really need supplies, maybe he’d risk it. And what were the odds of Minos being there anyway? One in five, or maybe 50/50. Even if Gabriel were to get so unlucky as to meet the king, he could always fly off. Not that his wings could carry him far anymore, but at least a safe distance away.

Gabriel wrapped the torn cape around his shoulders, and moved to sit on the windowsill. His legs dangled over the abyss that was the crumbling city below. The winds had calmed down slightly, yet the rain continued, tapping away at his helmet. He knew he could take it off, no one was around to see him, yet… he’d grown quite attached to it. It felt like a part of him at this point. The gilded parts of his helmet had been dulled by dirt and time, and he’d neglected to take proper care of it. Yet it was… him. Had he been dulled by dirt and time?

Gabriel made his way to the roof of the building. It towered over the land, like a tree left standing after harvesting timber en masse. Though those trees would perish soon themselves. Were trees, or in this case buildings, capable of dying from loneliness? Perhaps plants and even heaps of concrete were more human than he was.

Sitting down on the wet tin roof, Gabriel gazed over the horizon. He could see the Palace of Lust in the distance, its spires casting shadows over the crumbling city. Thank the heavens that massive fucking husk of Minos was gone, it had been quite the eyesore. Well, he had caused it to be that way, but, well… Suppose the machine was good for something, after all. In his mind, Gabriel could still see the parasitic worms and smell the stench of decay. He couldn’t blame anyone else but himself for-

No, the damn Council had ordered him. He had just been doing his job, his duty, his-

The past was just that. The past. Better not linger, lest he sit there for the next millenia.

Well, time's-a-wastin’. With a running start, Gabriel took off towards the palace, gliding back down to the cracked street. He didn’t want to attract too much attention, now did he? He felt a renewed sense of optimism course through his veins. Minos wouldn’t be there, he’d find plenty of supplies, everything was going to be just fine.

● ● ●

Gabriel chose to enter through a side door. He knew the palace inside out, even in its dilapidated state, having been there plenty of times before… before that incident. He still remembered which floorboards creaked when stepped on, he remembered which doors were always kept locked.

Quietly stepping inside, Gabriel took a deep breath. It…

It still smelled like it used to.

The palace was supposed to be abandoned, derelict, close to collapse, it shouldn’t have still had that scent..! It brought back so many memories, too many memories.

Gabriel stepped back outside. He looked down, and saw his hands shaking. What the hell was wrong with him? It was just a familiar smell, just a scent. He leaned against the wall, trying to rid himself of those blasted thoughts. 

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. 

Just a familiar smell.

Just a scent.

Just a reminder of every moment he had ever spent with the man whom he then went onto cut down in cold blood while he was begging for him to just fucking listen for even a-

Breathe, damnit.

Let bygones be bygones. He could not change the damn past, he could not fix things anymore. He was a better person now, wasn’t he? He wouldn’t make such choices anymore.

After a moment, Gabriel stepped back into the palace. The scent was there. With a shake of his head, Gabriel ignored those thoughts, and snuck deeper into the palace. The hallways were surprisingly pristine for having fallen victim to disrepair. The carpets barely had any dust fly up when he stepped on them, candles on the sconces seemed brand new, torn wallpaper appeared to have been patched up.

Ignoring the warning sirens blaring in his head, Gabriel snuck up the stairs in the main lobby. He stepped past the steps he recalled would creak, and quickly made it to the top. It wouldn’t hurt to just take a peek into Minos’ old bedroom, just… just for memories’ sake. To remember the good days.

At the end of the hall was an ornate door, which Gabriel slowly creaked open. Just to be careful, just in case there was actually anyone there. He peeked his head in through the crack.

Oh no.

Oh… no no no nonono-

Minos was standing there, right in front of the door as if he’d just been about to leave. The Prime Soul’s hole of a face stared down at Gabriel, a swirling abyss which sure as hell didn’t seem happy.

Gabriel was frozen in place. Even if he’d wanted to utter a word, he couldn’t. His throat felt as if it’d clamped itself shut. And, surprisingly, it appeared to be the same for Minos.

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity and half, before Minos finally spoke.

“...Gabriel..?”

Like a lighting bolt from a clear sky, in a sudden moment of rage, Gabriel lunged forward, pinning Minos to the floor. He knew the Prime Soul didn't need to breathe or anything, yet he found his hands gripping Minos' throat.

"Thou art looking a tad less radiant from when I last saw thee, Gabriel.”

“Time hasn’t done you any favours either, has it!?” Gabriel hissed. 

“...That was not meant as an insult.”

Gabriel scoffed, tightening his grip around Minos throat. “Oh, sure it wasn’t! As if I’d believe a word you say.”

“...Ah.” Minos let out a soft sigh, surprisingly content despite being actively strangled by one pissed off archangel. “Is there something bothering thee, my angel? I-”

“Oh, just shut it, won’t you..!”

Out of muscle memory, or whatever one might call it, Gabriel moved one of his hands to cover Minos’ mouth, but instead plunged it deep into the face hole. It was like… cold, pitch-black liquid, which seeped right through Gabriel’s gloves. It seemed to go on for eternity, as in the matter of seconds Gabriel was elbow-deep.

“W-what the fuck..?” Gabriel quickly yanked his arm back out. The abysmal goo clung to his arm like glue, no matter how he tried to get it off. “Why the fuck are you like this?? This is fucking disgusting!”

“Thou plunged thine own arm in there by thyself. I played no part in this,” Minos said casually, almost as if this was an everyday occurrence.

“I-I-I didn’t..! You, you…” Gabriel struggled to come up with any insults. His anger was gone, instead replaced by mostly confusion. “S-stop having a gooey face..!”

“Oh, how thou wound me… I was born this way!”

“...You weren’t, asshole.”

“I was. Though ‘reborn’ may be a more fitting word…”

“Just… shut up.” Gabriel grumbled as he got off of Minos, still desperately trying to get the remaining goo off of himself. “...Why aren’t you killing me, anyway? Didn’t I, like, kill you and all?”

“Hmph.” Minos quickly got up himself, and wiped off some of the inky goo that had gotten on his robes. “...’Twas back then. After some reconsideration, I came to realise thou hast not acted of thine own volition.”

…How much did this man know of the occurrences after his imprisonment? Did he know how the Council-

No. There was no chance in hell that Minos knew.

Not a chance.

“...Did you hit your head that hard? Of course I acted of my ‘own volition’, there’s no one in the whole universe besides the Father who could order me around! Do you think that little of me?” Gabriel crossed his arms. His exhaustion truly was starting to get to him a little, he no longer had the energy to stay angry.

“Thou dost seem rather vexed, Gabriel.”

“Yeah, no shit! I got exiled from Heaven, my kin despise me, I no longer have the Father’s Light, I’m starving, cold, exhausted, and everything is my fault..!” 

Everything that had been on Gabriel’s mind spilled forth at once, the cacophony in his head finally quieting down as he got it all out. The boiling hatred, bubbling fear, indescribable hurt, agonising loneliness. If all that had been mixed in a pot, the colour of the concoction would’ve been darker than the purest abyss.

Minos listened silently, occasionally nodding along. After a while, he spoke. “That… doth seem most troubling, my angel.”

“...Don’t call me that. It makes me want to throw up.”

“My apologies, Gabriel.” Minos exhaled, in whatever manner a being without a respiratory system would. “...Nonetheless, thy predicament hath certainly troubled me.”

“Why would it bother you? Just let me take some stuff and I’ll be-”

“Thou couldst stay here.”

Gabriel was about to just scoff and shrug off the offer, but the more he thought about it, the more tempting it became. A proper roof over his head, warm quarters, a soft bed, perhaps even an actual, nutritious meal? And all he had to do was deal with Minos every now and then?

“...We’d be like roommates, wouldn’t we?”

“If thou wouldst prefer to call it such.”

“...” Gabriel thought for a moment longer, until he came to his conclusion. “...Fine.”

Chapter Text

"Minos, seriously? You don't put pairless socks in the laundry basket until you find the damn pair..!" Gabriel was practically fuming, digging around the laundry basket and tossing back all the mismatched socks. There was quite a large pile of those pairless socks forming behind the archangel. He was wearing a loose-fitting white blouse, akin to a poet shirt but not quite as fancy, which he tucked into his pants every now and then when it got loose.

“...My apologies, angel.”

Minos was leaning against the doorframe of the laundry room, no longer flinching whenever a pairless sock hit him and fell to the pile.

"How the hell have you even survived this long without me?" Gabriel groaned. “You can’t sort the laundry, you can’t mop the floors properly, you can barely cook… You’re a mess, Minos.”

“...It doth appear to be so. Though, I do not need-”

“I know you don’t need to eat, have clean clothes or matching socks. But it makes this existence that tiny bit more bearable.” Gabriel kneeled down beside the pile of socks, and began sorting through them to find pairs for each. “...Look. I’m not mad at you, I just prefer keeping things neat, alright?”

“Thou need not scrub the stovetop every single day, though,” Minos sighed.

“Oh, I absolutely do.”

“The fridge?”

“That too.”

“Even all of the palace’s windows?”

“...Shut up.” Gabriel threw a pair of socks at Minos, grumbling under his breath. “It’s not like you have anyone else here to do it.”

“No one said I was not grateful for thy… maid services.”

“...Fucking ‘maid services’..?” The archangel had to admit it was quite an accurate way of putting things. “Don’t just stand there ogling me. I’m sure you have something better to do with your time.”

“Ah… Could I perchance help thee make dinner tonight?”

“You’ll probably set the kitchen on fire.”

“I would put it out.”

Gabriel thought for a second. An extra pair of hands in the kitchen wouldn’t hurt, but a jello-head like Minos wouldn’t be of much help either. Perhaps Minos could dice some onions, he had no eyes that the hellish vegetable could irritate. But that dunce would probably cut his fingers or something. Not that Gabriel cared if the man got hurt. He didn’t care, not one bit. He definitely didn’t care.

“...Fine, whatever. I’ll be there once I finish pairing up these stupid socks.”

“Oh, splendid! I thank thee.” Minos lightly patted the top of Gabriel’s helmet, making it immediately turn red in colour.

“I will bend your fingers backwards, one by one, until they look like balls of dry fettuccine.”

“Thou art such a delight to be around.”

“And you’re a nuisance,” Gabriel muttered, his helmet fading back to the usual white.

"No, I am quite serious. Thy presence is intoxicating, my angel."

"Don't flirt with me. It makes me want to turn your epidermis inside out."

"...Hmph. Suit thyself."

Minos then left the laundry room, going off to Lord-knows-where. Gabriel let out a frustrated sigh. "...Could've at least helped with this."

● ● ●

After dealing with the socks, Gabriel made his way to the kitchen. Minos was already there, sitting on a counter.

"...Get your ass off of the counter," Gabriel sighed. He'd had to tell Minos that every single day for the past week, it was infuriating.

"Thy wish is my command." Minos hopped off of the counter, wrapping his arms around Gabriel's shoulders. "What shall be thy first order for me?"

"..." Gabriel stared rather angrily into the swirling abyss of Minos' face. It seemed as disgusting as ever, the coldness of the ever-swirling goo still fresh in his mind. And what was with the physical affection, anyway? Gabriel couldn't be swayed by a nice touch or word.

"Hm? Go on, my angel."

"If you're so serious about this, then dice a yellow onion for me. I don't want any peels in there."

"Ah, understood." Minos got straight to work, taking out a cutting board and a knife, before looking into the fridge. He stood there for several seconds, before speaking. “...Where do we keep our onions?”

“...Just let me.” Gabriel pushed past Minos. He looked around the fridge which he’d arranged that morning, quickly finding the onions at the very bottom. The archangel picked up a rather large yellow onion, and tossed it to Minos. “If you cut your finger, tell me. Getting any blood on the onion would be a health hazard.”

“Health hazard..?”

“Don’t think about it too hard, your head might explode.”

“...Some days thy train of thought concerns me greatly,” Minos said quietly, starting to peel the onion.

“Good.”

Gabriel took out some ground beef, milk, leftover cheese and an egg from the fridge. From the cupboard, he grabbed a bag of macaroni, before thinking about it harder. “...Minos?”

“Hm?”

“What’s your favourite pasta shape?”

“...I suppose the ones shaped like bow ties.”

…Farfalle. Of course. This Prime Soul, a grown-ass man, liked butterfly pasta. Of course he did.

…Gabriel did, too.

“How childish,” Gabriel scoffed, taking out a bag of farfalle anyway. He then flicked the stovetop and oven on, placed a frying pan on it, and then took some spices from a spice rack. Someone like Minos ought to have a wide range of spices in his kitchen.

Paprika, white and black pepper, garlic powder… Gabriel could no longer recall where he’d learned this recipe, yet he remembered every step of it. It was one of the only dishes he could make. He’d never had much of a need for culinary skills, anyway.

Minos’ voice interrupted his thoughts. “Um, Gabriel, I… reckon I need thy help.”

“...What is it now?” Gabriel sighed, turning around to look at Minos. Blood. There was a teeny tiny bit of blood on the cutting board. “You…”

Gabriel wanted to curse Minos out so badly, but refrained. With a groan, he took a band-aid from a first aid kit, and then wrapped it around Minos’ cut finger.

“...I thank thee.”

“Just don’t let it happen again, idiot.” Gabriel wiped the bit of blood from the cutting board.

“If I do, wilt thou be there to rescue me?”

“...Hmph.”

The archangel returned to the stove, where the pan was now hot enough. He dumped the ground beef into it, chopping it up into smaller pieces with a wooden spatula. The pan sizzled whenever he moved the ground beef around. He did so to both prevent it from burning and from having to look at Minos.

Gabriel then filled up a pot with water, waiting for it to boil before pouring in the butterfly pasta. It would take ten or so minutes to be done, plenty enough to get everything else in order. He picked out a casserole dish, and greased it with some butter. Oh, how he hated getting butter on his fingers. It felt so, so icky.

“Angel?” Minos called out. “I’m finished with the onion.”

“...Mhm.” Gabriel glanced over at the cutting board, before sighing. “...That’s adequate. Good job.”

Gabriel took the cutting board with the diced onion and placed it closer to the stove. He then seasoned the now-cooked ground beef, first sprinkling in black and white pepper, then paprika, and finally ample amounts of garlic powder. Then, he mixed things until there was seasoning on every bit of ground beef, after which he dumped the diced onion on the pan.

Gabriel then poured milk into a tall glass, cracking an egg into it before mixing with a fork. He glanced over at Minos, and noticed how he was still beaming from the ‘good job’ comment. God, that’s so embarrassing… It was just a little compliment, and it got into his head that bad?

“Minos.” Gabriel jolted the Prime Soul out of his daydreams. “Grate some cheese for me, won’t you?”

“Ah… Yes, yes. On it.”

Gabriel returned his attention to his own task. He poured the water out of the pot of boiled butterfly pasta, dumping the pasta into the casserole dish, on top of which he dumped the ground beef and onion. Then, he mixed it all before pouring the egg-milk mixture over it, adding a bit of milk so all of it was basically submerged. Now, last thing… Grated cheese.

He looked over at Minos, who now had grated more than enough cheese. There was enough grated cheese to fill a mixing bowl with. Yet Minos kept grating more cheese.

“Minos, I… I think that’s more than enough..!”

“...Didst thou not say ‘some’?”

“Is that ‘some’ to you?! I’m this close to j-” Gabriel stopped, taking a deep breath. “You know what? Good job.”

Minos seemed very proud of himself. Who wouldn’t be, after grating ungodly amounts of cheese?

Gabriel grabbed a handful of the grated cheese, sprinkling it on the macaroni casserole. He only needed about half of the cheese to cover it. Then, he picked up the whole dish, and placed it in the oven. 200 degrees Celsius, for an hour. Plenty enough time to clean up the kitchen, maybe even deep-clean the fridge.

“...Minos,” Gabriel said, before turning to look at the Prime Soul. Minos was shovelling the remaining grated cheese into his… face hole like some kind of a feral animal.

“Mhh..? What?” Despite not having a mouth to chew with, Minos sounded as if he was speaking with his mouth full of grated cheese.

“I…” Gabriel was at a loss for words. He’d never seen someone eat cheese with such urgency and fervour.

“Dost thou want some?”

“...No thank you.”

Sighing, Gabriel trudged out of the kitchen and up the main lobby stairs. Maybe he just needed a nap. Yes, a nap would be nice…

Gabriel dragged himself to one of the guest rooms. Minos had, oh, so graciously offered it to him, and of course it had to be the one closest to the Prime Soul’s own quarters. The archangel slumped down on the pristine white bed, burying his helmet into the pillow. It still smelled of Minos.

With a hiss, Gabriel tossed the pillow across the room, where it landed in a pile of other things that he didn’t like. A book he remembered Minos reading years ago, a box of chocolates Minos gave him yesterday, a bouquet of flowers presumably from Minos… He wanted to light the whole thing on fire, but he just couldn’t burn down the only roof over his head.

Why did the guy even care? He could’ve, and should’ve, vaporised Gabriel in a heartbeat, yet he hadn’t. Was he really that soft?

Pathetic.

…Was it?

● ● ●

An hour went by. Gabriel was now sat at the kitchen table, Minos on the other end. The archangel was wearily staring at his plateful of macaroni casserole, pondering on how to best eat it while keeping his helmet on.

“...Thy helm-”

“I know.”

Silence fell upon the kitchen once more. Minos was stuffing his disgusting, slimy face hole with macaroni casserole eagerly, as if he hadn’t eaten in decades. He probably hadn’t.

With a sigh, Gabriel picked up his fork and plate of food, deciding to eat in his room. He wasn’t going to give Minos the pleasure of seeing the face of an archangel. That’d be simply ludicrous.

Once in his room, Gabriel locked the door, barricading it with a chair under the handle. That should suffice. He then sat down on the bed, the plate of macaroni casserole in front of him almost taunting. Lifting his helmet just enough to reveal his mouth, he began shovelling the food down after the first cautious bite. Damn, he’d actually made something edible this time.

A knock at the door interrupted his ravenous feasting.

“...What do you want now?” Gabriel sighed, the vexation obvious in his voice.

After a short yet painful moment of silence, Minos spoke. “I… wished to thank thee for the delicious meal.”

“Aha. I suppose you’re welcome.”

Why did a simple word of thanks make Gabriel’s heart flutter? He couldn’t quite put a finger on what emotion he was feeling exactly, but… for once, it wasn’t negative. Maybe this was fine.

Chapter Text

Rays of sunlight trickled into the room through a gap --and the millions of holes-- in the curtains. There was a moth hanging out on the windowsill, as if it was resting after having chewed through the curtains. Good for them, good for them.

Specks of dust danced in the rays, a sight almost beautiful were he awake. Well, he was awake, but didn’t want to get up just yet, keeping his eyes closed in the hopes he could fall asleep again. 

Gabriel was exhausted from the day before, having spent the entirety of yesterday outside in the garden. Minos had basically dragged him outside, insisting he needed some fresh air to lift his spirits. If anything, it’d made him feel worse. After what’d felt like hours of doing Minos’ stupid little chores, Gabriel had given him a piece of his mind. The words that had come out of him were not the kind one would dare repeat. Of course, he’d apologised afterwards and Minos had accepted the apology, but both of them felt forced. Was he even sorry? He’d felt the pain of regret in his chest, certainly that had been real.

He wasn’t going to get any more sleep at this rate. With a groan, Gabriel got out of bed, almost stepping on a dirty fork he’d forgotten on the floor. Dirty plates and utensils had a bad habit of gathering in his room (as if they had a mind of their own). He’d promised he would wash them… how many days ago..? Six? ‘Not right now’ turned into ‘tomorrow’, which then turned into ‘oh, I forgot’, and that eventually became ‘when I have the time’. Stupid excuses. 

Gabriel dragged himself to the closet. Minos had given him some spare clothes forever ago, but he rarely used them. Whenever he did, Minos would gush about how good Gabriel looked in them, which just made him feel weird. He didn’t need compliments just for wearing clothes.

From the closet, Gabriel picked a fluffy, red bathrobe. He’d go back to bed after breakfast anyway, why bother with actual clothes? 

● ● ●

Gabriel sat at the kitchen table, sipping his coffee. He had never been the one to drink coffee until he moved into Minos’ palace. Drinking coffee hadn’t really been frowned upon in Heaven, but relying on a liquid for energy certainly wasn’t something one would talk about. It was basically an addiction to consume it in such a manner, in excess. He’d once overheard someone talk about how when they missed their morning coffee one morning, they got terrible withdrawals. A terrible headache, agonising muscle cramps so bad they couldn’t even fall asleep, and such. Certainly sounded like an addiction to him back then. But these days he probably wasn’t much better than that guy.

He’d baked some bread the other day, which didn’t taste half bad now. While, yes, he’d followed an old recipe, he’d also added dried onion to it. For flavour. Maybe next time he’d use something with a little more taste. 

“Ah. Good morning, angel.”

Minos had appeared out of nowhere, startling Gabriel. The Prime Soul was wearing a bathrobe, much like Gabriel himself, but it was only white in colour. Of course it was fucking white.

“...Have you ever tried not sneaking up on me?” Gabriel muttered, sipping his now-cold coffee (through a straw). Perhaps he’d spaced out for longer than he’d thought.

“My apologies, did I startle thee?”

“No,” Gabriel quickly replied. “...There’s some coffee left in the pan.”

“Oh, how kind of thee-”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I just made too much.”

“...Ah. Understood.”

● ● ●

Two more cracks had appeared on his ceiling since the last time he counted them. One hundred and thirty-seven… at least his ceiling doesn’t yet leak when it rains. Or he wished it would, so he’d have something better to do than just being stuck in his own head, playing past events on repeat or trying to predict every possible way a future conversation could go. Or being forced to be around his oh-so-gracious host.

Gabriel’s bedroom was one of the few overlooking the palace’s garden. Every day, he sat at the window and observed Minos toil away down there, except for the days it was raining, when he simply watched raindrops hit the glass, over and over again. 

With a heavy sigh, Gabriel got up from his bed once more, trudging over to the window. His room was fucking stuffy, again. 

He pushed open the window, letting in fresh air. Well, as fresh as air could be in Hell. 

…

It was snowing in Lust. Yesterday had been one of the hottest days of the year, how was it snowing today? Was he hallucinating again ?

Blinding white snow covered every inch of the garden outside, covered everything as far as the eye could see. Covered the distant rubble of the city, covered the trees and flowers, covered his desk-

Gabriel quickly closed the window. Even if it wasn’t really his desk, it was best to preserve it from any water damage, if only to make himself feel better. The desk was probably handmade, every detail intricately carved and surface sanded down to perfection. It wasn’t his place to ruin such beauty.

Though he’d done so before.

Since keeping the window open wasn’t an option, Gabriel hesitantly opened the door. Minos was probably off somewhere reading some obscene ‘book’, it was unlikely he’d come up here to bother Gabriel. Or to nag about those dishes again.

He crawled back into bed, under the covers. It’d been a long day already (it was noon), he deserved a nap. Or something close to one. 

● ● ●

Footsteps, two pairs of them. Oh, great, he brought one of his stupid ‘friends’. Or maybe we’re finally getting robbed. Gabriel rolled over to face the wall. He’d gotten surprisingly good at pretending to be asleep lately, or maybe Minos just knew to not bother him at times like these. No, nonsense. He was good at pretending to be asleep, plain and simple. 

The floorboards creaked, signalling the arrival of this ‘mysterious stranger’.

“Sire..?” A voice called out quietly. It was… it sounded awfully familiar, but Gabriel couldn’t quite remember who this voice belonged to.

Gabriel stayed silent and unmoving. They’d go away if he just did nothing. They would leave him alone if he just stayed quiet.

“...I reckon he is asleep.” 

That was definitely Minos’ voice, that one.

“With… with all due respect, Your Honour, I doubt that,” The familiar voice said, before pausing for a moment. “...See? The wings are completely still. They twitch a little when he’s sleeping.”

Wait, what? That’s utter bullshit, my wings don’t twitch when I sleep!

“Oh? Thou certainly hast a keen eye for detail.”

“...Thank you for your kind words, Your Honour.”

Stop complimenting each other and do something! Gabriel’s skin felt like it was crawling with bugs, yet he would not move an inch. This was a game of endurance and patience. If he were to move, they’d win.

Ugh, fine. Fine. 

“...What do you want?” Gabriel asked hesitantly, still facing the wall. “Also, Minos. Get out.”

“As thou wish, my angel,” Minos sighed, before he could be heard walking away. He would've given me that pathetic puppy-eyed stare if he still had a face, I know it.

After Gabriel was sure Minos had completely left, he sat up. “Please, close the door.”

The guest did as told. Gabriel hesitated to get out of bed, but eventually gave in to the need to be seen as at least somewhat respectable. He stood up, and glanced at the-

He recognised them immediately. Skeletal form giving off a blue hue, a holy cloth draped over their upper half.

“...Charon?”

“Ah, um… Sire, you need not call me by my name. Just ‘Ferryman’ is more than enough…” The Ferryman fidgeted with their cloth. 

Clearly, they were a tad nervous, though he couldn’t quite grasp what for. His light was gone, his room was a mess, his wings were barely preened. He honestly looked pathetic. Even this, this… skeleton had more divinity than him.

“...Noted. Now, uhm…” 

It’d been a while since Gabriel had talked to anyone that wasn’t Minos, so it was difficult to find words that weren’t insults. 

“What brought you here?” Gabriel settled on the most basic and neutral question he could think of.

“I… had been thinking of visiting you, sire, for quite some time, but I couldn’t figure out where you were residing these days. That was until his hono- King Minos contacted me.”

Was there anything that Minos didn’t have his hand in? Gabriel could not stifle the small sigh that escaped him. 

“And what did you two talk about then? Not that it’s any of my business, really.”

“Hm… At first it was literature and the arts, until the conversation turned to you, sire,” the Ferryman explained. “He… King Minos stated that he was quite worried about you.”

Yeah, sure he was-

“Oh?”

“...Has he not voiced his concerns to you, sire?”

A moment of silence passed between the two as Gabriel thought. He’d remember if Minos were to ever show a hint of concern about his wellbeing.

“No..?” Gabriel was rather unsure in his answer. Surely Minos was the type to talk about such things, or perhaps Gabriel simply was not inclined to listen.

…Most likely the latter.

“I… I see,” the Ferryman muttered. “Shall we change the to-”

Might as well ask them. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?

“...How do I talk to him?”

The Ferryman seemed taken aback by such a question, and for a good reason. The Archangel Gabriel asking for their advice..? An absurd occurrence, yet here it was.

“What… kind of advice are you in need of exactly, sire?” The Ferryman asked. “As in how to begin a conversation, find topics to discuss, or..?”

“As in how to get my head out of my own ass and treat him like a person, Charon.” Gabriel resisted the urge to grab the Ferryman by the shoulders and shake them gently to get his point across. Wouldn’t want to scare them off now, would he?

“...Ah. Um, let’s see…” the Ferryman pondered for a moment, before pulling out a thick tome from under their holy cloth. Wh..? Where the hell do they keep that ?!

Actually, I don’t want to know.

The book looked old and torn, with yellowed pages and a million bookmarks sticking out from the top. A few pages fluttered to the floor as the Ferryman skimmed through the book. Those pages seemed to be in their handwriting, and even had small illustrations on them. Wait, is that a doodle of me-

“Here it is!” The Ferryman announced, snapping Gabriel back to reality.

“...What is?”

“A few of my favourite snippets from a book titled ‘How to Get Along with the Enemy in a Hundred Easy, Somewhat Laborious and Mentally Draining Steps’ . It’s a must-have when one is down here in Hell,” the Ferryman replied enthusiastically. 

“That’s the second longest title for a book I’ve ever heard.”

“Mhm? What’s the longest title you’ve heard, sire?”

“... ’Archangel Raphael’s Guide to a Proper Work-Life Balance, Regular Sleep Schedule, Evenly Spaced Out Mealtimes, Most Effective Exercise Methods, and Maintaining Friendships, Volume Three, Now with a Hundred Percent More Michael’ .”

“...Impressive,” the Ferryman muttered. “Sire, would you happen to have a copy of it? I’d love to add it to my collection.”

“...No.”

“I see… That's fine.” The Ferryman turned their attention back to the tome. “Now, back to the topic.”

Gabriel, with a sigh, sat down on the edge of his bed. This was going to be a long fucking day. Not that he minded.

Chapter Text

Things were looking better again.

Or at least Gabriel reckoned they did. 

It’d been a month since the Ferryman visited, and three weeks since they came looking for a place to momentarily stay at. The ferry had sunk (again), they said. Minos, of course, had agreed to give them a place of refuge, a decision of his which Gabriel for once didn’t disagree with.

Gabriel had also started spending more time outside of his room. Since the Ferryman insisted on spending time with him, he’d felt a tad bad for making them stay in that one stuffy room with him all the time. Was this like when lonely people get dogs so they’d go outside at least twice per day? They’re a person, not a dog. A person.

At the moment, Gabriel was sat in front of a fireplace in one of the lounges, wearing some stupid Christmas sweater Minos had found. The guy had even cut two holes in the back of it for Gabriel’s wings! And with the Ferryman next to him, Gabriel couldn’t not thank the Prime Soul, as much as he would’ve just loved to shove the sweater into that gooey face hole of his. 

He was getting better, right?

The Ferryman and Minos were off somewhere, most likely baking something based on the scent in the air. What had gotten into those fools? None of the three necessarily needed to eat, it was an utter waste of resources!

Then again, he’d made food here a couple times in the past two or three months. It offered comfort, unlike that of a soft blanket or warm sunrays. Perhaps it was an art form, too, whether it was the visual aspects or the gustatory ones. If that was the case, Minos’ wine cellar would classify for an art gallery.

Currently, Gabriel was simply staring at the fireplace. Those ever-hungry flames, devouring firewood in the matter of minutes, log after log. He’d have to add some more to it soon, lest it die out.

Yes, yes. Just a moment.

…Perhaps he was meant to do this, everything up until now had led to this moment. This fragile, fleeting moment. It, too, would come to an end when the fire inevitably burns out-

Listen, I’ll do it in just a moment. Can’t an angel sit for five fucking seconds without being bombarded with such stupid thoughts..?

The thoughts would never shut up, except when he wished they were there. Those moments were rare, few and far between. This very moment was not one of those.

…Fine! Fine.

Gabriel slowly sat up from his pillow-and-blanket fort, which honestly looked more like a nest, and picked up the last log in the basket. He added it to the fireplace before glancing at the window. 

Still snowing. Great. 

It was most certainly not great, since he’d have to go out there to retrieve more firewood from the shed. Yes, there was one. He’d built it himself. It wasn’t a stunner by any means, but it got the job done. He just lamented the fact he’d built it at the outer edge of the garden like a fucking moron, and Minos had not had the heart to tell him it’d be a pain in the ass to reach in such weather.

Nonetheless, Gabriel grabbed a jacket, some winter boots and the basket, and headed out. 

The coldness outside hit him like a fist-sized rock in a sock. Visibility was basically zero with the amount of snow coming down, and his hands were freezing. 

He began trudging towards the shed, or where he presumed it to be. This'll be fine . The snow crunched beneath his boots in a way reminiscent of grinding bones into dust. Not that he didn't like the sound, but it reminded him of-

Don't dwell on it. There's only one guy capable of exacting vengeance for that, and he's too soft to do so.

Gabriel could slowly feel his fingers go numb. At first it was biting cold, then warm, then just nothing. He had to look down to make sure he was still holding onto the basket. The shed wasn't too far away now.

And he slipped. For the first time ever since he could remember, he did something as mortal as slip on ice. 

…Excellent. Great fucking job.

He couldn't feel the coldness of the snow with his hands anymore. Or the freezing wind through his clothes. He wouldn't die from this, even if he tried.

Begrudgingly, he stood back up and continued towards the shed. Some snow wouldn't defeat him. He wouldn't hear the end of it.

…

The shed had fucking collapsed under the weight of the snow. It was just… a heap of planks, snow, and firewood. A miserable sight, really.

Why..? I thought I… It was supposed to be able to withstand some snow. 

Gabriel simply stood there. He knew it wasn't that big of a deal. It was just the amount of work he'd put into it, and how it'd just collapsed. It was fine the day before. It should've been fine today.

…I don't think I can fix this.

With a heavy, heavy sigh, Gabriel began digging through the heap, trying to find some usable firewood. It took a while, but he managed to pull enough together. Even if he'd scratched up his numb hands in the process.

Should've used sturdier wood. Or maybe sweeped the snow off the roof every day.

They didn't even bleed. Perhaps his hands truly were frozen solid.

Or perhaps more nails. Or better supports. 

He couldn't see the palace from the remnants of the shed, thanks to the blizzard. They were probably so warm in there. Laughing, having fun. They probably weren't even thinking about him. Maybe they hadn't even realised he'd gone out.

Why did his heart ache at the thought? He wasn't lonely. He wasn't capable of such. He didn't need such feelings.

…Should head back. I’ll get an earful if I let the fire die again.

Gabriel trudged back towards the palace, numb hands gripping the basket. It was getting dark, the blizzard showed no sign of calming down, and the slight slope was icy. He hated this. Snow in Heaven had never felt cold.

Eventually, he made it back inside. Untying the boots was a pain in the ass, with his fingers like blocks of ice. They'd thaw soon enough.

And thaw they did. Once Gabriel had crawled back into his pillow-blanket nest, sensation returned to his hands. That sensation was pain. It wasn’t like pin pricks, it was like someone jamming needles into his fingers.

…Ngh.

He felt like severing his own hands at the moment. They felt burning hot yet freezing cold at the same time, like placing his hand on the stove while it was submerged in ice. 

If anything could compare to the severing of his connection to the Father's Light, this would come close.

…Stupid. So stupid.

Gabriel curled up within his blanket nest, waiting for the pain to subside. He hadn't done any permanent damage, had he? 

He could hear them still baking. Or maybe they were cleaning up already, he heard the dishes. Not that it mattered, they'd come there soon to interrupt his peace and quiet. Maybe the Ferryman would make an another painting of him in his blanket nest. They’d painted one last week, and Minos had taken the liberty of hanging it above a fireplace in the other lounge. It would’ve been hilarious had Gabriel himself not been beet red in the face.

It’s a good painting, to be fair. Better than good.

The three had taken to sleeping in the lounges for the past two weeks, since there was not enough firewood to heat up the entire palace. This lounge was the main one, where they constantly kept the fire going, while the other one was for when he couldn’t stand being around Minos. It’d only been two times out of fourteen so far. An improvement? Definitely.

Gabriel’s hands were starting to feel… relatively normal again. He’d have to ask the Ferryman to make him mittens, if they had the time. While yes, he’d tried to learn knitting, it never went anywhere. He could crochet surprisingly well, though… If those crochet squares counted. Since creativity just wasn’t his thing, he did need help coming up with the patterns. 

…Can I crochet mittens? Is that a thing?

I could try, sometime.

● ● ●

Gabriel awoke to the sound of laughter and the smell of baked goods. How long had he'd been asleep for? It must've been no longer than an hour, yet he felt better than before. 

…What kind of an angel takes naps?

With a soft sigh, Gabriel opened his eyes. His vision was mainly blocked by the back of a canvas.

Ah. The kind that also has someone that makes paintings of him sleeping.

Off to the side, Gabriel could see Minos shovelling gingerbread cookies into his face hole. Typical… but endearing, in a way. 

“It seems thy model hath awakened, Charon,” Minos noted.

“H-huh..?!” The Ferryman's head peeked out from behind the canvas, in a way that a regular person would've fallen off the stool doing. “Please stay still, sire. For just a little while.”

“...Hmph.” Gabriel did as requested, even when he really felt like stretching his wings. Art shouldn’t be rushed. 

A few minutes went by in silence, with only the crunching of gingerbread cookies and sound of brushstrokes. Why do they crunch? Does he have an actual mouth in there somewhere? Hell, maybe he has several. 

…I won’t be weird about that concept.

“Sire,” the Ferryman said after a moment. “You may move now.”

“...About time,” Gabriel sighed, crawling out of his blanket nest. Oh, great . One of his wings was cramping, and the other one was slightly numb. A pinched nerve, probably. Couches weren’t exactly designed with angels, or those taller than 7 feet, in mind.

He stretched his limbs, before slumping back onto the couch. This must've been one of the more dull days, not that they all weren't dull and mind-numbing. The days simply merged into one massive lump. 

“Wouldst thou like some of these? 'Tis only fair that thou get thy share.” Minos extended a small basket of sorts toward Gabriel. 

“...Are they even edible?”

Knowing Minos’ cooking/baking skills, these gingerbread cookies probably caused instant death, except to Minos himself.

“Mhm, Charon made them,” Minos replied as he tossed a cookie into his stupid face hole.

“...You helped me with them, Your Honour,” the Ferryman corrected.

Gabriel really wanted to decline, but it wasn't like he could with Minos’ nonexistent eyes boring into him. He glanced into the small basket. 

They were so cute. The gingerbread cookies looked like the three of them, with icing neatly decorating each one. Of course, there were a few not so neat ones. Minos probably made those. Hesitantly, Gabriel took one that looked like himself. 

“Don’t look.” Gabriel used his wing to block the two from seeing his face, and lifted his helmet just enough to get a bite of the cookie. 

…Oh, wow. 

It was fucking delicious. Just the right amount of cinnamon, cloves and ginger, and just the right texture. Crispy, but not too much so. Soft, yet firm. He wasn’t a food critic, so he lacked the words to describe it further, but overall it was absolutely divine. Gabriel crammed the gingerbread cookie into his mouth with the same amount of grace an infant would have ice skating.

“They’re alright,” Gabriel said after a few seconds, before snatching the small basket from Minos’ hand. “...Give me that.”

Listen, listen. Listen . It’d be a waste of good food if I let him eat all of them. He cannot appreciate the flavour and texture of these, these…  

“You… like them, sire?”

“...Hmh. I suppose,” Gabriel muttered as he ate a gingerbread cookie that looked like Minos. It had the most icing, of course he’d pick that one. “So… How’s the painting going?”

The Ferryman stayed quiet for a moment before speaking. “It’s… coming along just fine.”

“Let me guess. Is the paint not exactly the shade you need it to be?” 

“...Correct. It’s supposed to be scarlet, not cherry red, sire. This won’t work at all…” The Ferryman sighed.

He hated seeing them so down over some shade of paint. While the shade wasn’t that big of a deal to him, it was to them. It’d stick out to them whenever they looked at the painting, keep them up at night, endlessly bother them.

Gabriel moved over to the Ferryman’s side, picking up the offending tube of paint. “This was supposed to be scarlet, you said?”

A little miracle wouldn’t hurt. He could still perform those, though that too had its limits and consequences. Yes, yes. Nausea, headaches, blurry vision, joint pain, vertigo, fatigue and whateverthefuck else. 

“Oh, sire, you don’t have to, it’s-”

With a mere thought, the paint turned that tiny bit lighter in colour. And with it came a stabbing headache. Though he was expecting it and knew it’d be over in just a moment, he found himself inhaling sharply, his free hand gripping his pant leg. The other side effects would come later.

“...Here you go.” Gabriel managed to sound completely fine as he handed the tube of paint to the Ferryman, though of course he couldn’t fool somebody like that with his subpar acting.

“Sire, thank you, but… Are you alright?” 

I should just go. Me getting pitied would make us both feel so much fucking worse, I reckon. 

“Just… side effects. Don’t worry about it.” Gabriel rushed out of the lounge and towards his least hated balcony. He didn’t care that it was still snowy and cold outside, he’d only be there for a moment for fresh air.

…Fresh air. Fresh air usually helps.

He slid the sliding door open, and sat down on the balcony. It didn’t matter that there was at least an inch of snow there. Perhaps it’d give him something else to think about.

…It was a starry night. On Earth, more stars were visible at night when it was cold. That seemed to apply in Lust, too. He couldn’t lie, it was beautiful in a way, even if these stars weren’t real. Just an illusion. But a phantom of a clear, starry night wasn’t really any different from the real thing, though. Only a few chosen ones could touch them, real or projected, and come back with the knowledge that the night sky was cold and unfeeling.

Just think about how pretty and definitely not fake it is.

Gabriel grabbed a fistful of snow. It was loose and powdery, not the kind that could be formed into anything. A real waste of ice crystals.

He turned his attention back to the sky. It was still there, as expected. He tried looking for any familiar constellations, and after a moment he did find some. Taurus, Andromeda, Cassiopeia… And there’s Pisces, and Pegasus. He’d had his constellation phase not that many years ago, when he’d memorised basically every constellation. That was back when he had free time. When everything was alright.

…Still here. Things are somewhat alright again, though those who deserved to experience it no longer exist.

Gabriel held his hands close to his chest in an attempt to keep them warm. His headache was starting to subside already, and the joint pain was making itself known. He missed being able to perform tiny miracles without any side effects, but such was the cost of using whatever small bits of divinity true angels had. 

He didn’t regret it, though. It was just that he wish he could’ve seen them happy instead of concerned, worrying about him. They were probably looking for him now. Calling his name. Desperately checking every room, nook, cranny and closet. Running around so hastily they trip over their own feet.

I should go back.

● ● ●

The light from the fireplace was quite comforting. It painted the lounge a soft shade of orange, and perfectly framed the Ferryman, who was asleep on the couch. Gabriel himself was laying on a mattress not too far off, underneath at least three blankets. The cold still seeped into his extremities.

Minos was on the other side of the room, reading a book (perhaps a romance novel) by candlelight. He’d said he didn’t actually need to sleep, so he stayed up to keep the fireplace going. It was probably just a cheap cover-up story for insomnia.

Gabriel rolled over to face the wall. He’d been tossing and turning all night, unable to sleep a wink. Perhaps it was due to the mess of a day he’d had, the ache in his joints and vertigo, or the feeling that a certain somebody was staring at him.

“Sleep appears to be evading thee, angel.” Minos’ tone was casual as ever, though a tad quieter as to not wake the Ferryman. Casual. Sweet, compassionate, understanding. Gabriel couldn’t comprehend how this man could deal with his stubborn ass and not spontaneously combust.

“...That it does.”

“What bothers thee so? Tis’ the fifth night in a row thou art having this issue.”

“You’ve been staring at me all night, that certainly won’t help,” Gabriel scoffed. 

Minos raised his gaze from the book. “...I shall refrain from that in the future.”

“...As if.”

His wings were aching. He hadn’t actually used them in a long while, at least a month. Flying in the middle of winter was not the most comfortable experience. Biting wind, snow, the moisture in the air freezing into small icicles on his wings, all that. And if the wind were particularly strong and snowfall dense, he’d be sent plummeting down into some ditch with two to three feet of freezing cold water in it.

…He’d been submerged in icy water before, but that time he would’ve been content just sinking to the very bottom. His limbs had basically turned into cement, and he’d found himself inhaling water. Just to speed things up.

Listen, I was desperate -

It’d felt like an eternity, but in truth only a second had passed, and his self-preservation instincts had kicked in. He’d crawled out, and dragged his pathetic, sopping wet ass back to the palace. Coincidentally, he was unable to even consider entering a bathtub for a whole month after.

…I would rather get my shit kicked in than think about that again.

“Something is quite clearly bothering thee, angel,” Minos said as Gabriel rolled over for the umpteenth time.

“...You just won’t stop pressing the matter until I tell you, correct?” 

“Mh… That is true.”

Gabriel stayed silent for a good minute. “...Listen, I don’t know how I feel about you sometimes.”

“Fair enough. One is not obliged to find enjoyment in the presence of another.”

“No, I mean… How do I put this..?”

The perfect words eluded him. It'd been an issue for a while, ever since he'd had no lines to constantly repeat. An angel's work tended to be rather repetitive.

“Take all the time thou need, angel.”

“...I don't need your pity. It's just…” Gabriel let out a sigh. “Let's just put it this way. Sometimes I absolutely hate your guts, other times I'm… It's not like caring about you, just something akin to that. Like… I wouldn't be bothered if you died right now, but I'd care enough to hold a funeral or something and not just dump your corpse in some ditch.”

Minos appeared to ponder those words for a bit, before replying. “How… nice of thee.”

How nice of me..? That's it? No wise words or condescending lines?

“...That's it?”

“Mhm. Is there something else thou wished to hear?”

“...” Gabriel rolled over to his other side once more. “...Maybe.”

Chapter Text

The cold of winter had finally subsided, so Gabriel could comfortably fly again. He was out scavenging whatever remained of the city. Some parts were flooded due to the melting snow, and even fewer buildings were standing compared to the last time he was here.

Gabriel landed on the roof of a relatively stable-looking building. With the approach of spring, his mood had lifted significantly, things seeming so much more… bearable. He had more energy to do things, less self-deprecating thoughts floating around in his head, and the presence of Minos didn’t irritate him as much as before. Overall, Gabriel felt like he was much less of a pain in the ass.

The Ferryman was planning on returning to their ferry in the coming days. It had resurfaced once more, as they’d predicted. Gabriel preferred to think he’d put up a good act when he’d expressed how happy he was for them, that they were finally able to return to the place they called home. In truth, the news had felt like a dagger to the chest. He’d just gotten comfortable with everything, and now they were about to destroy it? And the worst part was that they weren’t even ruining things intentionally. Most people wouldn’t even see it as ‘destroying’ or ‘ruining’ things’.

…I’m overreacting. I can visit them whenever I want, it’s fine.

One of the reasons Gabriel was out today was to find something he could turn into a farewell gift. Perhaps he could find some intact canvases, paints, or paintbrushes. Maybe he could even find some pieces of jewellery, if he was lucky. He was sure they liked those.

He glanced over the ledge of the building he was on. Perfect height… Should be able to do this without crashing like an idiot and breaking a wing. Gabriel turned his back to the drop, leisurely leaning back, and let gravity do what it did best.

Wind brushing up against exposed skin was the best part of any freefall. A windy day by the seaside could scarcely compare to the rush of an inevitable crash onto the jagged pieces of metal and concrete, the rush of not knowing if his reaction time was as quick as it used to be. Perhaps he would end up with a stainless steel bar through his abdomen, his spine shattered into a few neat pieces, or crushed under tonnes of concrete if the building decided to collapse now.

Three, two… one.

His wings caught him mere centimetres from the ground. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to celebrate, since he then flew and crashed right into a particularly tall pile of rubble. 

“...You… you motherfucker,” Gabriel grumbled as he pulled himself out of the junk pile. The crash fortunately hadn’t been too hard, but it did hurt like a bitch nonetheless. 

…Where’s the bag? Is it…

After a bit of digging, Gabriel found the bag he had with him. The two straps had broken, unsurprisingly since it was old anyway, but the items inside seemed to be intact. Just a random tube of blue oil paint, two dull pencils and a well-preserved book. It was better than nothing.

With a sigh, he got going on foot. It wasn’t long until he came across a street that seemed much cleaner than the rest. The buildings along it appeared to be mostly intact, and the street was free of rubble. If he had any less brain cells, he would’ve thought somebody still lived there, that was how pristine it was. 

He entered a building to the right, a shopkeeper’s bell announcing his arrival to the dust bunnies and spiderwebs. Empty display cases and dead plants were the first thing to catch his eye, after which came torn up seats and a cash register that had been busted open, followed up by the… 

Why’s there the smell of fresh bread? Did I hit my head that badly..?

Gabriel made his way around the counter and towards the back of the shop. There was a short hallway connecting the back and the front, with a few doors on either side. He checked them just to be sure. A small office, bathroom, broom closet, and stairs leading up. He'd have to check the other floors later.

He continued down the hall, and entered the next room. It had some counters, an island, a stove, two broken fridges and so on, but nothing that would cause the place to smell like bread.

…Am I finally losing my mind..? About time, honestly.

As Gabriel bent down to inspect something, rapid footsteps shuffled behind him. Before he could react, something hit the back of his helmet hard with a loud clank. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you..?!” Gabriel spun around, ready to give who- or whatever hit him an earful. 

…It was a person. A child looking no older than 10, tightly gripping a pan, visibly shaking.

…Oh. Oh, I don't know how to deal with… these things. Human spawns, whatever they're called.

“...Are you an angel?” The child asked, tone shaky yet firm at the same time, exuding as much anger as a child could.

“Um… yes?” 

An awkward affirmative was all he could muster, being stared down by this human offspring no taller than a large traffic cone.

“You're lying. Real angels don't swear.”

“Who told you that?” 

The child paused for a moment. “...My mom.”

Okay, okay… What should I say? I don't want to make this… thing cry or something.

“...Oh.” Gabriel’s brain was working overtime trying to remember how humans even liked to be interacted with. “Listen, I'm… sorry for swearing like that. You just really caught me off-guard.”

With a soft sigh, Gabriel kneeled at the child's level to seem less threatening. It worked for small animals, surely humans were no different.

“You… said you have a mom. Where may I find her?” Gabriel inquired as gently as he could. What if this thing's maternal unit was deceased? He'd be ripping open some wounds if that was the case.

“...She’s upstairs.”

Oh, good. This spawn isn't completely alone here.

“Alright. I'll just go and find her, then.” Gabriel got back to his feet, and followed the child that scuttled up the stairs from before.

The staircase was narrow, and the wooden steps were most likely rotten and could break any day now. Purple wallpaper seemed to be peeling, water damage was visible in the ceiling and upper walls, and a window looking out into the ruined city was dirty.

There was a hallway up on the second floor as well, with apartment numbers on each door. The child led Gabriel to one of them. Inside was a regular apartment, though much less run-down than he would've expected. 

Another child, no older than five, was playing with something in the living room area to the right. To the left was a kitchen, with a woman in front of a stove. She didn't seem to notice him at first.

Gabriel knocked on the doorframe to get the woman’s attention in a way that wouldn't startle her to death, and cleared his throat.

“Ahem, uhm… hello?” 

Gah, that came out so pathetic and awkward…

The woman spun around, and stared at him for a good few seconds, probably gauging if he was an immediate threat. 

“...An angel. To what do I owe the honour?” The woman responded coldly.

“Me? I was just… scavenging, and found myself here.” He decided to be truthful, for now. Humans were awfully good at detecting lies and falsehoods, or maybe he was just an awful liar.

“Scavenging? An angel, scavenging for scraps in Hell?”

“...Yes. I-I… I know it sounds like a lie, but it-”

“And your name is?”

I… probably shouldn't.

“...I’m Gabriel.”

The woman, after a few seconds of processing, grabbed the pan from the first child, and swung it at Gabriel. He barely dodged it.

“How dare you? Showing up here after everything you've done, stealing our scarce resources..!” The woman swung again, and Gabriel retreated towards the door.

“I'm… I'm sorry..!” Gabriel replied as he dodged an another swing. 

“The hell you are!” 

One swing connected with Gabriel's helmet, and sent him stumbling down the narrow stairs. It hurt a lot more than the one before.

“Ghk… I'm so sorry…” He could only utter more apologies as hits from the pan rained down on him. Some got his arms, some his helmet, while some missed entirely. Thank goodness his helmet was sturdy.

“Get out..!” 

Gabriel scrambled towards the front door of the shop, with one more hit just barely missing him.

“I'm sorry, I'll… I'll go.” Gabriel finally got back out into the street, and the woman stopped in the doorway. 

“Good. And never come back!”

Unfortunately, he couldn't help but notice that his bag was missing, meaning he'd dropped it in there. That human certainly wasn't going to let him back in again.

…I need it, though. 

“Uhm, really sorry to bother you, but may I… may I please have my bag back?” Gabriel requested from a good few metres away. “I must've dropped it somewhere in there…”

“...Your bag?”

“Yes, I sort of… need it.”

“Mhm.”

“Listen, you… you don't have to, it's up to you, but I would be really thankful if I could get it back.”

…He hated stooping so low, but having his pride intact was less important than avoiding more hits from that pan. And he didn't want to return to the palace empty-handed, so the tube of paint and a book were better than nothing.

“And if I don't?”

“...Please?”

With a sigh, the woman got her older child to fetch the bag. Maybe… I can salvage this. This human seems less mad now, and I'm not in the process of getting whacked with a cooking implement.

…How does this… human even have the gall to attack an angel? I'd think they would have some sort of a self-preservation instinct preventing them from doing that.

“Catch.” The woman suddenly tossed the bag to Gabriel, who just barely caught it. He checked the contents, which were all there, even the two pencils.

“...Thanks. I'll… get going, then.”

Gabriel took to the sky once more. He quite disliked taking off from the ground, since it demanded more energy compared to simply gliding off of a building. Besides, his wings tended to get dirty due to the dirt a takeoff raised.

Should I keep scavenging, or return already..?  

Perhaps he could go drop off the few items he had, tell Minos about the three survivors, and go back to scavenging? That seemed like the best option, plus he needed to get a bag that wasn’t falling apart anyway.

● ● ●

Gabriel returned to the palace around noon. He landed on one of the larger balconies, and looked out to the garden. The Ferryman said earlier they’d be painting outdoors today, since the weather seemed so pleasant. Of course, the garden was fucking massive, so it’d take a while for him to find them.

Best place to paint… Where would I go if wanted to and could paint..?

He glided down to the ground, barely avoiding a rose bush that wasn’t there yesterday. There were a few pale pink rose buds. If only it were any later in the year, he could’ve given one to the Ferryman. As a parting gift from a friend.

Gravel crunched beneath his feet as he made his way through the garden, weaving around hedges, trellises and raised garden beds. Some trellises still had remnants of the previous year’s grapevines. Though the garden really wasn’t for him to take care of, he couldn’t help but pluck out the dead plant matter.

Eventually, he managed to pull himself away from this task and continued looking for the Ferryman. Just behind the next hedge was a gazebo, from where he could hear soft humming and the rustling of cloth. He peeked around the hedge as to not disturb their peace and quiet.

They were sat on a bar stool in front of a large canvas, back towards Gabriel. On the canvas was a nearly finished painting of the scenery. Greens of plants, reds and yellows of flowers, lighter magenta of the sky with clouds that were not actually there. Nonexistent butterflies and birds. Anything to make it look like home. He didn’t have the heart to interrupt them until they had painted the final stroke and put away their brush and paints.

“...Ahem. Charon?”

“H-huh..?” Startled, the Ferryman immediately fell off their chair, but quickly scrambled to their feet. “Oh, sire! What brings you here?”

“I… found something I think you might like.” Gabriel approached the gazebo, digging around his bag. His fingers soon happened upon the tube of paint, and he pulled it out. “...There it is.”

“Ah, just the colour I needed! Thank you, sire.” 

As the Ferryman scrambled to put away this tube of paint, Gabriel got a closer look at the painting. Thick layers of paint with the brush strokes visible. The style reminded him of some paintings he’d seen before, back when things weren’t so utterly fucked. 

Van Gogh, was it? 

…I can be ‘cultured’ too.

“...It’s beautiful,” Gabriel muttered, entranced by the exquisite brushmanship. He resisted the urge to touch the paint. 

“Oh, um… thank you..?” The Ferryman was fidgeting with their cloth.

They’ve lived under the same roof as me for at least two months… And I’ve told them there’s no need to be so nervous. What am I doing wrong?

“Are there any birds in Wrath? It’s been a while since I’ve… been over there.”

“There are mainly albatrosses, though I’ve seen a puffin or two. And seagulls,” the Ferryman replied. “...So many seagulls, sire.”

“Seagulls..?”

“...I probably shouldn’t feed them.” The Ferryman then changed the subject. “So, sire… If I may inquire, what are your plans for the rest of the day?”

Rest of the day… Delivering this stupid book to Minos, and then scavenging more? That sounds a little dull… Though it doesn’t have to be anything exciting.

“First, I’ll bring this book I found to Minos, since it seems like something he’d enjoy greatly.” Gabriel dug the book in question out of his bag and gave it to the Ferryman, who after a glance shoved it right back into his hands.

“That, uhm… You’re giving him that, sire..?”

“Why not? I’m sure he’s read a million books more explicit than this,” Gabriel remarked, putting the book back in his bag.

“...You’re enabling him.”

“It makes him happy, which in turn helps me hate him less.” A slight smile was evident in his tone. 

“Oh..?”

Ah, great… They're getting ideas .

Gabriel gave that absolutely gorgeous painting one last glance, before speaking again. “I'll be on my way, then.”

The Ferryman nodded, and with that, Gabriel set off again. Minos would probably be in that grand library of his, reading his stupid romance novels and such. At least someone here had the patience to read.

Before long, Gabriel had made his way to the grand library. A dozen bookshelves stretched towards a ceiling that was at least 10 metres high, and the (obviously artificial) sun shined in through the windows in the back. While he wasn't that much of a reader himself anymore, the scent of books did elicit a feeling of familiarity that was both good and bad. 

Minos was sat in an armchair by the window, reading a book. His translucent skin glimmered in the sunlight, painting the Prime Soul in a nigh ethereal glow. The sight rivalled the beauty of the sun itself. Its reflection off of the moon at night, off of a body of water during the day. Not quite as blinding as a blanket of snow on a sunny day, though. Perhaps the sight was best compared to a perfectly polished gemstone, like a moonstone or an opal, and their iridescence.

Gabriel was just stood there, staring. Maybe he was a corvid after all, with the way he was utterly mesmerised by shiny things. For a moment he even forgot where he was. Well, that was until Minos’ voice brought him back.

“...Gabriel?”

Startled, Gabriel nearly dropped his bag. “...O-oh, yes. Hi.”

“What brings thee here? An inquiry or a request, I presume.” Minos placed a bookmark in his book, and set it down on a table.

Gabriel walked forth, digging around his rather empty bag for that one book. “...A bribe.”

“A gift. That is called a gift, angel.”

“Well, this isn’t a gift. It’s a bribe and you’ll fucking take it.” Gabriel placed said bribe on the table on top of the other book.

Minos picked up the book, giving the back a read. “Oh, I did not have this one. An excellent find, angel.”

Gabriel simply scoffed, and turned to leave. “...By the way. I found like three of your denizens out there.”

There was silence from Minos for a good ten seconds, until he spoke. “And… thou didst not bring them back here?”

“What? No..! Two of them smacked me with a pan, completely unprovoked.” Gabriel knew they’d had reason to smack him. They’d had reason to kill him, too, yet they hadn’t.

“Wouldst thou be so kind as to lead me to them?”

Lead him to them..? As if I’d want to ever go near those… that human and her spawns again. An utterly ridiculous thought. Of course I won’t-

“...Sure,” Gabriel sighed. “Find some shoes, though. I’m not digging glass shards out of your soles.”

● ● ●

The skies were still clear and winds calm. It was quite a shame Gabriel was now restricted to walking, he couldn’t just abandon this idiot. The Prime Soul would probably wander around outside all night, in the cold, before eventually freezing solid. That wouldn't be good for a single-celled organism like Minos. Not that he cared. He just had something of a conscience.

…Minos would not cease stopping every now and then, finding an object or a sign that reminded him of what once stood there. And honestly, who was Gabriel to tell him to stop reminiscing? 

“This here was a florist’s shop, a lively one at that.”

“...A florist’s shop, in Hell.”

“Mhm, they managed to engineer plants so they could thrive down here. Canst thou believe that, angel?”

“Humans got creative when they were bored. Who knew,” Gabriel muttered quietly, earning a small chuckle from Minos.

They kept going, weaving through ruins. The landscape looked all the same right now, save for a building in the distance that still stood. It was probably the one where he'd done that freefall, only to crash like an idiot. 

Gabriel scanned through the debris for anything worth taking, only to find just concrete and steel bars, with bits of torn fabric. Maybe curtains, maybe clothing. All beyond salvaging, anyway.

And then there was, of course, a heartbreaking sight. A dirty plush toy peeking out from beneath the rubble. It seemed to be a bird of some sort, though very cartoony in appearance. 

His feet were like lead. 

…I know there were children, human spawns. It was inevitable.

“...Gabriel.” Minos, noting the archangel's internal distress, gently nudged Gabriel along.

“I'm fine.” Gabriel was lying through his teeth. He was a liar, murderer, heretic and a fraud. Irredeemable, really.

…As bad as it sounds, it's all in the past now. I can't really fix things anymore. Not that I deserved to be able to, but a chance would've been nice.

He kept walking. Soon, he'd be getting whacked with a pan again, or spat at, or maybe finally killed. Though death was a mercy he did not deserve.

Yeah… Definitely not getting killed today.

“There was a market here nigh every day,” Minos said as the two entered a city square of sorts. It made sense there wouldn't be much rubble here.

“...What was it like?”

“A dozen stalls side by side selling a wide variety of perishables, a few food carts with the most delicious aroma emanating from them, the bustling crowds and their laughter…”

“...Sounds nice.” 

The description had painted a vivid image in Gabriel's mind. It sounded like such a pleasant place to be, a place to forget all his worries and just… enjoy existence.

Why couldn't I just refuse? Why did I go through with it..?

Gabriel trudged forth with Minos in tow. They must've been close by now, he was sure. The building in the distance seemed to be about ten minutes away.

I should've refused. I should've put my foot down and-

…It wouldn't have mattered. Someone else would've done it anyway.

Minos kept explaining the history of some heaps of debris, but Gabriel wasn't really listening anymore.

If I had just persuaded them… I could've stopped it. I should've.

They wouldn't have listened. They never did.

Gabriel shook his head, but the thoughts stuck around. They clung to the crevices of his brain with their venomous tendrils.

But it doesn't matter anymore. This is all just fucked.

Utterly, royally fucked.

His chest hurt. It felt as if his heart had been torn in half, first vertically and then horizontally, and after that put through a blender with a shitty enough blade that it just left a million wounds but couldn't properly cut anything.

And if that wasn't embarrassing enough, tears began to form. 

…Breathe. I know how to just breathe.

I think I'd collapse in on myself if I sobbed like a baby in front of anyone. 

Gabriel was very well aware of how to stop himself from crying before it became uncontrollable. It'd come in handy back when… back then. The Righteous Hand of the Father wasn't exactly known for sobbing.

Right, right… Moving the eyes and blinking helps a lot.

And distractions, of course.

“...Minos?”

“Hm?”

“What was your favourite place in the city?” Gabriel asked, gaze on the horizon. That ought to be a nice enough topic.

“Mh… Thou hast presented such a difficult question. I could not possibly choose just one.”

“Top three favourite places, then. Unranked.”

“Well, one would be the library. Think the one in the palace but tenfold, with far better lighting,” Minos replied. “And a gorgeous stained glass window above the main entrance.”

Far better lighting? If he looked damn near ethereal in the palace's library, how good would he look th-

…Stop that. 

“...Mhm. And the second place?” 

“There were these two ‘rivalling’ theatres, once. I quite enjoyed visiting both, until the other one closed down due to financial reasons,” Minos explained, nearly walking right into a concrete pillar as he reminisced. “...The house was often rather barren, despite the plays being utterly captivating.”

“Maybe you just have shit taste.”

“Perhaps.”

Gabriel couldn't help his heart fluttering when he heard Minos chuckle. It was… sweet, making him almost forget that this man was supposed to loathe him.

“...What’s the third place?”

“A botanical garden, though a rather small one at that,” Minos responded. “It had thirty-six different species of flowers, and two oak trees standing side by side.”

“...Huh.”

Actual trees in Hell. What a concept.

A silence fell between the two once more, and it wasn't long until they reached their destination. Gabriel hesitated, though. Those three probably wouldn't want to see him again, and his presence would most likely ruin Minos’ chances of talking to them.

“You go in. I'll… stay here,” Gabriel sighed as they were about to enter the building.

“...Art thou sure?”

“Just go. You wanted to see them, so go see them!” 

“Yes, yes. I shall return shortly.” With that, Minos made his way into the building.

I'll just… find a vantage point. Somewhere high up.

Gabriel chose the roof of an office building with an unobstructed view to perch on. Wind was picking up a little, making the building creak and groan. 

…This is boring.

● ● ●

It'd been an hour. An hour of just sitting there, waiting. Gabriel was getting a teensy bit impatient, ready to just rush in and drag Minos out by the arm.

…The artificial sun was beginning to set, buildings that remained standing casting shadows over the desolate landscape. It was getting a tad chilly, too. Gabriel wrapped his wings around himself to keep warm, though it barely helped.

What's taking so long? Did he fall asleep in there? Keel over and die?

Nothing of note had happened in the past hour, save for the remaining two floors of a building in the distance crumbling. Even a concrete structure like that could go down nigh silently.

Oh, and the movement he thought he saw. Every now and then he'd noticed what looked like something, or someone, dashing by down below. They seemed to be aware of his presence, for they stayed mostly out of sight.

…I'm hallucinating. It's probably the lack of sleep.

With nothing better to do, Gabriel preened his wings. They were in much better shape compared to a few months back. Feathers perfectly aligned, glowing electric blue, and a bit dirty from crashing into that rubble heap earlier.

Gabriel nearly fell off of the railing when he noticed Minos emerge from the former bakery. He quickly glided down, and landed gracefully next to the Prime Soul.

“...About fucking time,” Gabriel sighed, immediately grabbing Minos’ arm and starting to drag him towards home. 

…Warm. He's… so warm. It's nice.

“I was gone for a mere hour, angel.”

“An entire hour! What even kept you in there for that long?”

“A pleasant conversation and a cup of tea.”

A cup of tea? Suppose that's what you get when you're not me .

“...Hmph.” Gabriel let go of Minos’ arm, and kept walking. 

“I did nearly get thwacked with a kitchen appliance at first, if that is of any worth to thee.”

“Oh, really? Tell me more.” A small smile did creep onto the archangel's face, though obscured by the helmet. 

Chapter Text

Gabriel didn't know what to do with himself.

It'd been less than 24 hours, yet he already missed the Ferryman. Their massive canvases obstructing the view, the way they got so excited receiving new brushes or tubes of paint, or simply their presence. Their gentle, calming presence.

His chest hurt just thinking about them.

It wasn't that they were that close, just… The Ferryman was nice. A change to what his usual existence was these days. And now everything was back to boring, dull everyday misery. 

Gabriel was on a couch in the lounge, buried under his blanket nest despite it not being that cold anymore. Blanket nests were nice.

Sunlight trickled in through a gap in the curtains. It was a little past noon, but Gabriel hadn't yet even had breakfast. Not that he needed to. It was just a habit. 

…I should probably go outside. Touch some grass or smell a flower.

Gabriel crawled out from under the blankets, stretching his wings. A stroll would surely fix him.

He made his way to the garden. The pale pink roses were in bloom a day too late, a soft gust of wind carrying their scent. They would've loved these.

…No, this isn't like grieving a dead lover. Just stop.

Gravel crunching beneath his feet felt just too loud, like driving nails into his skull. His head was pounding. That was most likely a side effect of him coming up with a small gift on the spot yesterday, that watercolour set. They were skilled with oil paint, so why not with watercolours?

Gabriel slumped down on a seat in the gazebo. His eyes wandered across the picturesque scenery, his thoughts settling down a little. Flowers were nice. He could see the appeal in caring for them, actually. To nurture a miniscule seed into blossoming, whether it be over a few months or several years. Plants, of course, could flourish even without external help, but where would the fun in that be?

He could hear the crunch of gravel again. Obviously he could never have a moment of peace and quiet, that'd be counterproductive to his role as the world's favourite punching bag.

…It's him. Again.

“Art thou alright, angel?” Minos sat down next to Gabriel, keeping a respectful distance between the two.

What’s it to him? It’s not like he can fix anything .

After a long moment of silence, Gabriel responded. “...Physically? Hanging on. Emotionally? None of your business.”

“Aw. Thou dost know it doth no good to keep it all bottled up, correct?”

“...I know.”

Gabriel knew very well, he’d been doing it all his life. It used to be a good skill. An admirable one, even. His ability to stay calm, cool and collected even when he wished to beat the other party to a pulp, except of course that time, those times. 

“I understand if thou wish not t-”

“Good, because I’m not going to.”

Once outside the gazebo, Gabriel took flight. Aggressively scrubbing the palace floors would not do, he needed to break something, anything, and he much preferred that to not be Minos’ spine. If he even has one .

The flight to the outskirts of the ruined city felt like an eternity. He couldn’t have anyone see him like this, it’d obliterate his carefully constructed facade. Or the smouldering remnants of it. Every passing second made the cracks on it spread, branching and multiplying until it crumbled to a fine powder. 

His landing was not graceful in the slightest. Gabriel slammed into a slab of concrete with all the strength he could muster, but only managed to hurt his shoulder and crack the concrete a little. You know, like an idiot. He wasn’t as strong as he used to be.

“...Oh, great. Defeated by some concrete,” Gabriel muttered as he rubbed his shoulder. It wasn’t broken or anything, but it did ache.

Clouds blotted out the sun and the wind picked up, making the landscape that tiny bit more dismal. The remaining buildings practically swayed with every gust, their creaking and groaning but a whisper, some windows finally giving out and shattering. He stood out like a sore thumb. 

Gabriel picked up a basketball-sized chunk of concrete, which weighed about 20 kilograms or so, with relative ease. He then forcefully flung it towards a pile of debris, where it shattered on impact.

Too easy.

He grabbed an another slightly heavier concrete lump, and once again hurled it, now with a bit more intent. This time, it didn’t immediately shatter, just cracked a little.

“So you want to put up a fight, huh?” Gabriel sauntered over to the insolent concrete chunk, and picked it up by a piece of rebar that was sticking out. It felt rather stupid to be talking to an inanimate lump. He quickly pushed the feeling aside; he was alone here, no one would be on his ass about this.

“...You reek of hubris.” He flung the lump into a slab of concrete that was still standing. It only succeeded in decimating the slab, with the lump still intact.

“...” Gabriel lifted the chunk of concrete again, and just stared at it. “What are you even made out of..?”

Wish I had even half the resilience of this thing… It could probably survive a nuclear bomb.

With a frustrated sigh, he tried once more. He mustered all his strength towards hurling this arrogant, despicable concrete lump, and slammed it into the ground. It broke into several pieces on the second try.

“That’s… That’s it?!” He couldn’t help but laugh. At this wretched concrete chunk. At how pathetic he was, talking to an inanimate object instead of that man who probably cared about him, and beating said object until it broke. At how utterly cruel existence was sometimes, how it threw emotions and situations at him that he didn’t know how to handle.

Gabriel kicked one of the concrete pieces for good measure. He knew this solution for dealing with his emotions wasn’t exactly viable long-term, but it would do for now, until he found a better one.

● ● ●

After calming down, Gabriel had decided to wander around a little. If he was lucky, he’d stumble upon some useful supplies, or maybe a beautiful view. Anything to not go back yet. So far, he’d found nothing, not even a pen or a shred of fabric.

This district’s utterly decimated. I wasn’t this far out, so it’s probably the corpse.

…It’s weird thinking about the corpse of a man who’s still alive.

He made his way through one of the many districts. It was so ruined that there weren’t even piles of rubble, all of that had been crushed into what was essentially a blanket of gravel. Even the fucking rebar .

Eventually, he came across a large, fogged up greenhouse. Most glass panes were intact, with only a few broken ones, which somebody had clearly attempted to cover up to keep the inside warm. He approached the main entrance. Surprisingly enough, it was unlocked, so he made his way in.

…So this is the botanical garden.

It was warm and humid inside the greenhouse, with flourishing plants of all sorts lining a small wooden path in front of Gabriel, leaves obscuring the view further down said path. A brook could be heard babbling a short distance away. He moved forth, finding himself being pulled in by his own curiosity. The wooden boards creaked quietly and leaves brushed up against him, making it feel like there were bugs on him as he crossed a small stream. Of course, there weren’t any bugs in Hell. Not even spiders or centipedes, even if they deserved to be down here.

Further in, there was a fork in the path. The left path was overgrown and seemingly led to an area that wasn’t of interest to whomever had been here before, as the plants on the right path had been neatly trimmed. He continued on down the neater path. 

Soon enough, he was in an open area encircled by tall trellises overgrown with vines. In the very centre, on a slightly elevated platform, were two trees. Well, the words ‘two’ and ‘trees’ weren’t exactly right. The trees seemed to have previously stood side by side, as now they were intertwined like snakes on the caduceus, their bare trunks a sickly shade of grey. When he looked very closely, he could almost see something --or someone-- squirming within the trunk itself.

Why… Why is that here?

Perhaps Hell itself was just fucking with his head at this point, since that thing was not supposed to be this high up. Maybe he was hallucinating. Actually, he was most likely hallucinating. Just seeing things, as he always was. That must be it .

The basin filled to the brim with a red liquid looked very real, though. It was located right at the base of this abomination of a tree, almost like an offering at an altar. Gabriel hesitantly got closer.

…Yep, definitely blood. It hasn’t coagulated yet, so it must be pretty fresh.

The stench of iron was nigh overwhelming the closer he got, his mouth definitely not watering a little at the smell. He stopped just at the edge of the platform. Looking up at the bare branches, he was filled with an almost irresistible urge to pour the basin of blood at the base of the tree, but he managed to push the thought aside. 

…Cold metal pressed up against the back of his neck. It'd be a lie to say it didn't send a shiver down his spine, or prompt his heart to beat a little faster. Or make his stomach feel like it was full of hot coals.

…I remember you.

“...You,” Gabriel muttered, staying as still as he could. This whole place would turn into rubble within minutes if he did move.

The machine stayed silent, as it always did. He didn't recall it ever making a sound. No words, beeping, buzzing, or any other sounds that most machines made, just the occasional scraping against a wall or the floor. A near-silent death, save for the gunshot.

After a moment, the gun was withdrawn from its position. Hesitating a little, Gabriel turned around to face his nemesis-turned-frenemy, staring daggers at its stupidly bright and not at all energy-efficient optic.

“What do you want this time?” 

They'd met once before, a little while after their… thing in Treachery, before Gabriel found himself wandering around Lust. That time, its request had been simple; a rematch of sorts. He liked to think it was just a way for it to refuel without having to ask him directly for his blood.

The machine stayed motionless for a bit, before pointing towards the basin of blood, and then Gabriel.

“You… want me to do something with that blood?” Gabriel guessed. It was rather difficult to figure out what the machine meant from mere gestures.

Shaking its head, the machine then tried a different approach. It pointed at his arm and then the basin.

“I don't think I want to offer my blood to that thing…”

The machine shook its head more vigorously. It quickly gave up trying to get him to understand it, and simply grabbed his wrist, dragging a sharp fingertip across his arm just deep enough to draw blood. It then pressed the wound against its chest plating.

“H-hey! I didn't-”

A third hand was placed over Gabriel's helmet where his mouth would be, to signal him to shut the fuck up. Begrudgingly, he obliged.

I should be used to being just a blood bag by now. This thing doesn’t care.

After a moment, the machine let go. Pulling his arm back, Gabriel pressed a hand over the wound which wasn’t really bleeding anymore, and sat down on the edge of the small platform. It’s just a small cut… Let’s just hope it doesn’t get infected.

The machine sat down next to him.

“...You’re still here?” He wasn’t expecting it to stay after refuelling. Last time, it’d simply left him battered, broken and bleeding in some forgotten corner of Violence, from where he’d then later made his way up to Lust. 

It stared at him with its stupidly large optic for about a second, before it dug out a paperback book from who-knows-where, and handed it to him. The aforementioned book appeared to be very lewd in nature, as was common for any book in this damn layer. Why’d it given him this, though? It didn’t seem like the type to consume such frivolous material, that was Minos’ thing.

Gabriel then recalled the feeling of being watched whenever he’d been out scavenging. A gaze burning into his back, but whenever he looked behind himself, he’d see no one there.

“Wait… Have you been stalking me?!” 

Of course this thing’s been stalking me, it’s a predator and I’m apparently the only prey left.

The machine simply nodded in response. Clearly it didn’t see anything wrong with trailing somebody, lurking in the shadows like a massive creep. Just waiting for an opportunity to strike.

And it’d noted how many books of this sort he took back to the palace. Hell, it probably knew how many pencils and rubber bands he’d found in the past couple months.

“Do you have nothing better to do? Have you killed every last thing you could find?”

It just looked at him for a long time, most likely conflicted on how to answer a complicated question like that with either a headshake or a nod. Fair enough.

“...Don’t just look at me. Have you completed your little mission called ‘destroy Hell’?”

The machine nodded.

“Congratulations, machine. Must feel nice to have accomplished something that seemed impossible on paper.”

No response from the machine. It didn't nod, shake its head, or even blink. Its gaze was fixed upon him, a faintly visible pupil trained on where it probably presumed his eyes would be. Such a presumption wasn't completely off. He did have eyes there, but also elsewhere. Not that he'd ever show his face to anyone.

“Uhm… Hello?” Gabriel waved a hand in front of the machine's optic. “Anything going on in there? Staring isn't polite, you know.”

It finally blinked after a moment, even if such an action was redundant to it. At least it signalled the machine was still ‘there’.

“...Stop that. It's… making me uncomfortable.” A bit too vulnerable, but that'd most likely get through to the machine.

Stop staring at me with that big eye of yours. It's creepy.

Gabriel reached out to gently poke the machine's optic with a finger. Just as he tapped it, the machine grabbed his wrist harshly, hard enough to nearly snap it clean off. 

…Ow.

“H-hey, hey… I meant no harm, machine. Really.” 

Hearing that, the machine immediately let go, yet continued staring. What's its fucking problem..? Do I have something on my helmet?

Gabriel rubbed his freed wrist, thinking. Perhaps this thing was having an existential crisis now that it had finished its mission, who knows. Maybe it just wanted to piss him off.

…Maybe it likes me?

He shook his head to rid himself of such a ridiculous thought. Mere objects didn't feel, especially not this one. 

“I think I'll go now,” Gabriel sighed as he stood up, stretching his wings. The machine's gaze followed. 

“So… See you around, I suppose.”

As Gabriel turned to leave, he was almost knocked off balance when the machine climbed up his back and clung there, right between his wings. Its arms were tightly around his shoulders and legs around his waist.

…Hitching a ride, huh?

“Machine, what are you… What is this?” Gabriel, despite the added weight of the machine, kept walking. “...You're heavy.”

In response, the machine wrapped its legs tighter around Gabriel's waist, knocking the wind out of him.

“Okay, okay… Sorry,” Gabriel muttered. “I take it you want to come with me, then?”

The machine gave him a thumbs up.

“...Can’t you just walk? Or whatever that slide-hopping thing you sometimes do is.” When the machine didn’t respond, Gabriel continued. “It’d be much faster, I reckon.”

The machine blinked at him. It then gestured something, the meaning of which took him a bit of trial and error to figure out.

“...Teleport? I… can’t do that anymore, unfortunately. I mean, I can, but it’d just knock me out cold for an hour and give me a massive migraine.”

After that, the machine made no further comment, and just settled on clinging to him. 

…Just stay that way.

● ● ●

Not even an hour later, they landed in the palace garden with as much elegance as Gabriel could muster, considering he had a tin can the weight of a small boulder on his back. The machine hopped off of him, curiously looking around. Or perhaps it was just trying to map out all the escape routes already.

The garden was eerily silent, and thus Gabriel concluded the man he sought was indoors. Sitting pretty in his library, most likely. The machine quietly followed behind him as he made his way in.

Immediately after the door closed behind them, the machine drew its weapon, gaze darting around the spacious hall. It took Gabriel a moment to figure out what the hell it was thinking.

“...It’s not an arena, machine. There’s no enemy ambush.” Gabriel paused for a bit. “Though it would spice things up a little…”

The machine’s optic turned to him as he pondered.

“Should I wrangle one of those teal things, those… What’s it called? Mindflayer?”

Gaze still trained on Gabriel, the machine put away its weapon once more.

“So… Should I wrangle one of those here? Reckon Minos would absolutely love me if I were to essentially wreck half of his palace.” Gabriel looked to the machine. “Or have you killed every single one of them already?”

The machine nodded.

“...Damnit.”

The two of them walked down a corridor, only a single pair of echoing footsteps audible. That thing weighs like a fucking truck, how is it so damn quiet..?!  

They soon reached the grand library. The spot where Minos usually sat was vacant, so Gabriel looked around a little. Empty teacup on a table, a few books neatly stacked next to it with a bookmark in each, curtains not fully drawn shut. Overall, it looked like any other day. Tranquil and pleasant, idyllic. He placed the book that the machine had given him next to the teacup. 

The machine was in the process of climbing up a bookshelf, so Gabriel dragged it back down before continuing on his little quest. They checked both lounges, then the main bedroom, after which they headed for the kitchen. He could already hear the ominous sounds of a boiling pot and clattering kitchenware. 

Don’t tell me he’s burning the kitchen down.

Gabriel picked up the pace, and though he couldn’t yet see smoke, he was sure there’d be some soon enough. That man couldn’t be trusted with even a damn spatula. Based on the smell, it was some sort of a meat dish. They’d run out of meat, even the dried kind, about a week ago, so the smell was a little concerning. Perhaps it was just coming from Minos burning his own hand or something.

…Reckon he’d taste similar to jellyfish. He already looks like one.

He peeked into the kitchen. It was neat and orderly, with just a few things on the counter next to the stove. Some spices, a cutting board, and surprisingly enough, a knife that wasn’t bloody. Overall, everything appeared unnaturally clean. There should’ve at least been a sack of flour dumped all over, but there wasn’t. 

Oh, finally. He’s been replaced by a lookalike that knows how to clean.

Minos was sat on a chair next to the stove, stirring a pot of who-knows-what. The scent coming from it was quite appetising, though. 

“...What exactly are you doing?” Gabriel asked after a solid minute of just standing there.

The Prime Soul’s response was casual as ever. “...What art thou doing, angel?” 

What am I doing? What am I doing?? What kind of a question is that..?

“Nevermind, just…” As Gabriel walked closer, he peered into the pot on the stove. There seemed to be chopped up vegetables and whatnot in there. “What the hell is that supposed to be?”

“Soup. I wished to lift thy spirits with a meal, and this was the least complicated dish to make.”

“...Wished to lift my spirits, huh. Your concern is appreciated.”

It most certainly looked like soup. Bits of solid food in a simmering pot of water, that was the dictionary definition. It didn’t look edible in the slightest, but the smell was mouthwatering. Not that he’d ever admit that.

“Not to alarm thee, angel, but there doth appear to be a peculiar creature behind thee,” Minos pointed out calmly.

“Oh, that? That’s our new dog. It drinks blood,” Gabriel replied. The machine which was still hiding behind him jabbed him in the side, causing him to curse under his breath.

“Mhm… Fascinating. Where didst thou find it?”

“Do you remember the botanical garden you talked about like a week ago? The machine just… appeared there.” Gabriel resisted the urge to talk about that fucked up tree. “...You recognise this thing, right?”

“Ah, it still stands? I shall make thee take me there someday,” Minos chuckled. “And I do recall the creature that is… currently climbing up the curtains.”

Once Gabriel turned around, he did see that the machine was indeed climbing up the curtains, the sharp claws of the red arm basically shredding them. When it reached the top, it hopped onto a tall cupboard, and gazed at the two from up there. It seemed almost smug with the way its pupil moved from Minos to him, and then back to Minos, and then back to him again.

Gabriel let out a heavy sigh. “...Can’t you stay still for two fucking minutes, machine?”

The machine tilted its head.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what you’ve done wrong. Are you aware that those curtains would cost a fuckton if there even was anyone to sell them anymore? And there’s literally no reason for you to be up there! What the hell do y-”

“...Ahem,” Minos interrupted Gabriel’s rant. “I reckon thou shouldst cease lecturing it, angel. The poor thing doth seem quite remorseful.”

The machine did not seem remorseful in the slightest. In response, Gabriel just huffed, crossing his arms. 

“Oh, great, now we know who the ‘fun parent’ would be. You’ve known this thing for like five minutes, yet you’re already taking its side..!”

“I am simply pointing out that the curtains are not worth agonising over.”

“I’m very aware, Minos. I may look as dense as a brick, but I assure you I’m not.” Gabriel glared at the machine. He was indeed getting quite worked up over some curtains, but that was the machine’s fault for ripping them up in the first place.

It just sat up there, staring at him with its large yellow optic. Perhaps it simply wanted to feel taller, and any destruction it caused on the way was not of concern. Almost as if it was simply an object and didn't understand things like manners.

“...Fine, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have raised my voice,” Gabriel begrudgingly apologised. “I don't know what goes in that head of yours, but please never climb up curtains again. And don't shred any fabrics, they're hard to come by.”

As Gabriel turned to leave, something small and hard hit his helmet with a clink, and then fell to the floor. It appeared to be a plastic candy wrapper with a pattern that made it look like a strawberry. He hesitantly picked it up, inspecting it. There seemed to be an oval-shaped red candy in there, surprisingly enough. 

“Thank… you?” Gabriel muttered. Looking up, he noticed the machine put away a bag which seemed to be full of such candy. 

He stashed the piece of candy in his pocket for now. Maybe he'd have it after… whatever Minos was making, in case he'd need to wash out the aftertaste.

Speaking of their to-be dinner, the Prime Soul appeared to have completely forgotten about it, as he was now standing in front of the cupboard which the machine was on top of. 

“May I perhaps receive one as well?” Minos asked the machine gently, to which it shook its head. “Aw…”

“See? It's utterly heartless,” Gabriel said with a slight chuckle.

The machine shook its head, and chucked a piece of candy at Minos, who barely caught it. He immediately popped it into his face hole, wrapper and all, and seemed to nearly choke on the plastic.

“W-what the hell are you doing..?” Gabriel stared at the unfolding scene in disbelief. Why is he like this? No, actually… Why are we like this?

Minos sounded almost heartbroken in his response. “...How come it had plastic in it..?”

Aren’t candy wrappers usually plastic? Though I suppose there’s paper ones… Does he eat paper..?!

“Moving onto macroplastics now, I see. Can't wait to see you eat a whole lawn chair.”

“...I refuse to consume furniture simply for thine enjoyment.” With a sigh, Minos returned to stirring the pot of soup. 

Aww… He’s embarrassed.

Gabriel looked to the machine that was still up there on top of the cupboard. It appeared content with simply observing the two, optic wide open to take in as much of the scene as possible. 

“...Please unwrap the next candy you give him,” Gabriel quietly said to the machine. “Would be a shame if he died a third time.”

● ● ●

The dish before him looked anything but appetising, and the gaze of two peculiar beings practically burning a hole in his helmet didn’t help. They were just silently staring, Minos sat at the other end of the table with his head propped up on his hand, while the machine was crouched on the back of Minos’ seat. How was he supposed to eat when those two were staring at him like he was a caged animal in a zoo?

…They’re just curious, I know. 

Who wouldn’t want to see the face of an angel? He’d seen plenty of human paintings and sculptures from decades, centuries and even millennia ago trying to depict an angel’s true visage, each failing more spectacularly after the other. It’d seemed like a rather silly endeavour to him. Not really a waste of paint or marble, but the artist’s time. Assigning a face to a being that did not need --or really even want-- one.

“...Staring isn’t very polite,” Gabriel sighed after a solid five minutes of being meticulously observed. 

“Dost thou perchance have some performance anxiety?”

“Don’t phrase it like that..! And no, I don’t have any form of anxiety, and I would much prefer it if you two would stop looking at me altogether.”

Gabriel returned to pondering the bowl of soup before him. Diced carrots, potatoes, celery, and some tiny chunks of meat, in a clear, yellow-brownish liquid. Though he knew all of that already, he’d been sat there just staring at the broth for ten minutes.

“Could you just leave for a moment? You shouldn’t be subjected to the brain-melting horror that is my face just because you want to make sure I eat this.”

…Not that he has a brain.

“Thy face certainly is not a ‘brain-melting horror’, angel,” Minos replied as he got up from his seat, picking the machine up with ease. “But we shall oblige.”

“...Thank you.”

The machine, before being dragged entirely out of sight, tossed Gabriel an another candy. He chose to save this one for dessert as well.

Once he was sure that he was alone, he removed his helmet and set it aside. While he hadn’t expected his visage to illuminate the surroundings anymore, it was still a bit of a bummer that it didn’t. Just another reminder of how awfully close to a mortal he was now.

He lifted a spoonful of soup to his primary mouth. The aroma was enough to make his mouth water, and despite the soup looking like it’d give him food poisoning, he consumed it. As luck would have it, he burned his mouth.

Ow… How’s it still so hot..?

With the next spoonful, he did just that, and actually got to taste the soup. It was… delightful. The broth itself was savoury and well-seasoned, and the chunks of vegetables and meat were cooked just right. Before he knew it, he’d consumed every last drop.

…I should dissect his nonexistent brain to figure out where he’s been storing this recipe. I moved in here months ago, yet he hasn’t actually cooked once before now..! It’s not like he forgot it and just magically remembered it today, right?

Does… Does he just like my cooking that much?

Something shattering just around the corner snapped Gabriel out of his thoughts. He quickly put his helmet back on, and went to investigate, not forgetting to grab a dustpan and broom. He was the de facto maid, after all.

It was a vase that had fallen off of a side table, clearly thanks to the machine that was once again scaling up the curtains. At least it wasn’t using that red arm for climbing anymore. Minos, on the other hand, was actually helping, since he was in the process of picking up the larger pieces of the shattered vase.

“Are you hurt?” Gabriel asked as he began to sweep up the smaller fragments. It wasn’t like he cared, he simply didn’t want to scrub blood out of any clothes later. 

“Not at all, ang-” 

Minos was interrupted by the (former) archangel inspecting his hands. No cuts or scrapes on the palms… None on the other side either.

…They’re warm though. And soft.

“...Good.” Gabriel returned to cleaning up the destroyed vase with a sigh. ”Please get the machine off of the curtains. It won’t learn if we let it do that.”

“I presume it will be more likely to listen to thee, seeing as it was rather difficult to keep it from scuttling over whilst thou wert eating,” Minos replied. “Oh, and on that note… Didst thou enjoy the soup?”

Right, the soup.

“It was… fine. It was just fine.” 

“Glad to hear it.”

A moment later, once he was done with sweeping up the remnants of the vase, Gabriel spoke again. “I have one question, though. How did you manage to make it edible? I don’t recall you cooking before, ever.”

“Cookery books doth have rather detailed recipes, angel, and only a fool could go awry following one.”

“...Of course. Try finding a book on washing your own clothes next, if not making me more miserable interests you at all.”

“Thy suggestion is noted,” Minos responded, taking the dustpan and broom from the other’s hands. “...Dost thou wish to salvage this, or shall I simply dispose of it?”

While the offer was tempting, Gabriel wasn’t exactly a fan of million piece jigsaw puzzles. Sure, he had finished one with thousand pieces before when he was bored out of his mind, but this one would have to be glued, sanded and maybe even painted in places. And he wasn’t that much of a masochist.

“Just dump it,” Gabriel sighed. “And find something that can take its place. This spot just looks… so empty now, it’s quite disconcerting.”

That’s that situation settled… Next up, dealing with that curtain-shredding animal with absolutely zero remorse.

The machine looked to be very content sat up there on the curtain rod. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it seemed almost happy. Of course, it most likely wasn’t programmed to feel happiness, but it showed its version of it far better than he could show his. Even now, it was kicking its legs in the air like a human would, for no apparent reason. Maybe it’d concluded that replicating human behaviour made it more bearable to be around.

…Pfft.

Chapter Text

The window panes were caked in what felt like centuries of grime and dust. Hell, they probably were, since scrubbing each one until it was pristine took nearly five minutes each. Scrub, clean the sponge, scrub some more, clean the damn sponge again. How did mortals ever do this?

Gabriel’s method for cleaning the outer side of said windows wasn’t exactly safe by mortal standards, either. Who wouldn’t simply grab the window frame with one hand, feet planted on the windowsill, and lean out just enough to reach every last bit of dirt? And that’s not even mentioning that this was the fourth floor.

The artificial early morning sun was shining bright, reflecting off of the four-hundred and sixty-five pristine windows he'd washed before. No streaks, and especially no blemishes. He wouldn't settle for anything but perfection.

He rolled his sleeves up again as he moved onto the next window. It was repetitive work, yet he found himself enjoying it. Work where he could just zone out as he chipped away at the colossal task. 

Seven more windows on this floor, a hundred and twelve on the next… I think I'll get this done before lunch.

The view from up there was a bonus. Though it was mostly just the same old rubble and solitary buildings, nature had somehow begun to reclaim the former city. Vines and small shrubs seemed violet in hue under the magenta sky, but when viewed indoors, they were a regular green. There was some peculiar grass, though, that was a pleasant lilac even under normal lighting. Said grass blanketed a significant portion of the ground, swaying in the soft wind. Though the wind down here probably was as real as the sun.

Gabriel soon got done with the fourth floor's windows, and so he grabbed the sponge, squeegee and bucket half-full of soap water, and began making his way up the stairs to the fifth floor. 

Ah, the carpet's a little worn here. I'll have to swap that bit out… maybe once I've waxed the floors in the main lobby and ballroom.

Silent as ever, the machine suddenly dashed past him, snatching the sponge from his hand. It then stood at the top of the stairs, and waited for him to reach it. Almost in a taunting way.

“Good morning to you as well,” Gabriel sighed, though he couldn't stop a slight smile from forming. This… thing had honestly grown on him in the past few days.

The machine followed him down the hall as he made his way to the furthest set of windows. It seemed to simply have nothing better to do.

“...May I have the sponge back?” 

He extended his hand, and to his surprise, the machine actually complied. 

“Thank you..?” As he spoke, the machine grabbed his wrist, looking his bare forearm up and down. Was it running low on fuel? It'd just refuelled yesterday, there should be plenty still left (unless it ran a marathon or two last night).

But it wasn't making the shallow cut he'd come to expect. It just stared, observing his forearm from every angle possible, noting the way he flinched a little when it ran a digit along the limb.

What's it doing..? Wait-

“H-Hey..! Have you never heard of a little something called ‘being subtle’?” Gabriel yanked his arm back, feeling his face heat up.

The machine tilted its head. It clearly didn't understand what it'd done wrong. 

With a sigh, he got to washing windows again, though he couldn't shake the feeling of a certain something’s optic drilling into his back. It seemed to be really intent on observing his every move. When he looked back, he noticed it peeking from around a corner.

…Excellent, I’ve got a stalker. It’s been far too long since the last one.

When he turned back to window number four-hundred and eighty-one, he could swear he heard the click of a camera shutter.

“...Excuse me?” Gabriel gave the machine a long, ominous stare. It stared back, its eye unblinking as if to convince him it hadn’t just taken a picture of him. Once it realised that convincing him of its innocence was impossible, its shoulders slumped and gaze turned downwards, indicative of regret and guilt.

Oh, lovely… Guess who's getting the ‘worst roommate ever’ award.

“Fine, listen. You can watch,” Gabriel relented. “No pictures, though.”

The machine cheered up instantly, and proceeded to position a chair barely a metre from the window before sitting down. It seemed to want an unobstructed view. Perhaps it was really intrigued by him washing windows, since it’d never seen him do something so… ordinary.

He returned to work. While getting back into swing of things took a moment, he soon found himself already washing window number five-hundred and forty-three. He’d almost forgotten that he was being observed intently, for the machine was so content with staying out of his way and silently staring. 

…The weather outside was still as pleasant as ever. A few false clouds drifted about in the sky, and the wind blew as gently as before. Looking down, he couldn’t help but wonder what it’d feel like to do a freefall from here. He wouldn’t do that, of course, since it’d definitely make him look childish. Or at least less respectable. 

I… wonder if Minos is still asleep. I know he says he basically doesn’t need any sleep, but who knows. Would be a real shame if he slept through such perfect gardening weather.

Gabriel was startled out of his thoughts by a camera shutter clicking once more. The machine had crept right up to the window when his back was turned, now staring up at him like a small dog looking up at its owner. Except its intentions weren’t quite as innocent, since it had snapped a picture of him from behind.

“Did you just..?” 

The machine simply nodded in response.

At least it’s not trying to lie about it.

“...You, machine, are utterly shameless,” Gabriel sighed softly. He was very familiar with people who did such things, unfortunately so. They usually learned to not do so after being confronted about it, but this thing wasn’t… made of flesh, really. It had no reason for doing such a thing. Just some fucked up lines of code, some weird program, making it do things like this. Probably.

“Didn’t I tell you to not take pictures?” 

It nodded again, though a lot more hesitantly this time. Maybe it did have a conscience. It scrambled backwards as Gabriel stepped towards it.

“That was the condition I set for letting you watch, machine,” he continued. “And you agreed to said condition, did you not?”

Again, it nodded, now clearly regretful of its actions. He wasn't done yet, though.

“Yet you did it anyway, and I can't help but wonder why. What about me fascinates you so?” 

Gabriel was pacing calmly around the room, around the machine, fully in ‘lecture’ mode. Perhaps he could talk some sense into this thing.

“Is it my appearance? Or my personality, the way I carry myself? Is it perhaps the fact that I’m one of the few you haven't yet managed to kill?” 

The machine shook its head firmly.

“...Huh? Really?” He stopped in his tracks, brain rather scrambled from being interrupted mid-monologue. “Are you just programmed to do that, then?”

It, again, shook its head.

“Then what is it? I…” Gabriel paused for a moment. “Actually, just… Listen. I don't want you to take pictures of me… of my, uhm… that kind of pictures of me, so please stop.”

In response, the machine nodded.

“Promise me that, or else I'm tearing you apart, limb from limb, until all that's left is just whatever functions as your heart.”

This threat made it nod frantically. It seemed that its self-preservation instinct was far stronger than the urge to fill its hard drive with pictures of him from various angles. 

Finally, I got through to it. Phew.

His relief was short-lived, however, since the machine quickly proceeded to climb up him, its optic a few centimetres from his helmet as it snapped its millionth picture. He could’ve been mad. He should’ve been, yet there was something rather endearing about the way it so unashamedly did as it wished. It probably didn’t even care about how he felt, it’d just obeyed due to the innate fear of death every being possessed, whether they had flesh or not. But it was endearing nonetheless.

“Pfft… Alright, alright. Only close-up shots of my helmet are allowed.” He simply couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped him. If the thing wasn’t just an object, he would’ve said he was growing quite fond of it already. 

…How come he kept reminding himself that the machine was a mere thing, that it wasn’t sentient or conscious in any way? Sentient beings had feelings to consider. They had wants and needs, likes and dislikes. They had the ability to lie, to hold grudges, to stab people -- even those they promised to love -- in the back. They were inconsistent, self-contradictory and honestly incomprehensible, as was he.

Besides, getting close with a sentient thing was terrifying. Who knew what they’d ever be thinking of. The weather, yesterday’s dinner, the trash that needed to be taken out, or perhaps how unlikeable they found his presence. Those unfortunate enough to be cursed with sentience (he) could lie with a straight face, convincingly enough to make it seem they (he) believed the lie wholeheartedly themselves (himself).

…Luckily this thing isn’t sentient.

● ● ●

The machine had scurried off to who-knows-where. He couldn’t blame it, watching someone sweep and then mop the main hall wasn’t exactly entertaining.

Once finished with that, Gabriel got floor wax, cloth and a putty knife. Starting from the furthest corner, he applied some wax, smoothing it with the cloth as he went. He definitely knew how to do this, he’d read a chapter of a book on it. That was months ago.

Minutes crawled on as he continued waxing the floor in silence. The only source of noise was a clock ticking, his quiet breathing, and his knees shuffling against the floorboards as he moved back, over and over. Every now and then, a floorboard softly creaked beneath him. Absolute silence. The peace and quiet which he often craved, yet rarely received nowadays. It was perfect for simply emptying out his head, not having to think about anything. Perhaps that was why he enjoyed cleaning the most.

Footsteps coming down the stairs interrupted his moment of quietude. Even without looking up, he knew it to be the only other being here that made sound.

“Hello, Minos,” Gabriel said, attempting to sound as cheerful as possible. He then paused for a bit before continuing. “...Or would a ‘good afternoon’ be more fitting?”

Minos let out a soft chuckle in response. “Ah, somebody doth appear to be having a particularly good day.”

…Understatement of the century.

“Do note that I will nevertheless not hesitate to eviscerate you if you eat the last bread roll. I’ve been saving that.”

“Mh… Unfortunately for us both, I do not possess organs that would be threatened by such violent actions,” Minos pointed out. “Despite that, thou art allowed to try.”

…Right, an existence such as Minos really had no need for organs. A manifestation of pure will didn't have mortal needs. Mortal wants, yes, but not needs. No need for sleep, sustenance or shelter, but a yearning for them nonetheless.

“Then why and how do you eat or drink? Isn’t that a waste of time and resources?” Gabriel asked as he continued waxing the floor. He wanted to get this done sooner rather than later.

“Why --and how-- dost thou consume things? I do not recall angels having such needs either.”

“That's a good question… I suppose.”

Why did he himself eat or drink? The answer was quite simple. Either out of habit, for enjoyment, or perhaps just for the sake of it. Maybe all three. Also, chewing is kind of nice sometimes. 

“How curious.” Minos stopped right behind Gabriel, gazing down upon him. “I could open thee up and take a peek inside, if thou art not opposed to that.”

Gabriel immediately froze upon hearing that. Who the hell was this man to suggest such… something that was so private and personal, so intimate? They were nowhere near that level of trust yet! Hell, we’re barely friends..!

He could hear his own heart beating in his ears, and his throat honestly felt like sandpaper. And his face, it was burning up like a marshmallow held too close to the flame. The piece of cloth grasped firmly in his hand pressed into the freshly applied floor wax, ruining whatever progress he’d just made in the past minute, though that really wasn’t of concern to him right now.

“Huh.” That was all he managed to utter, before shaking his head. This only managed to make his face feel even warmer, knowing that Minos had probably noticed how much he’d been affected by a simple remark. 

I wouldn’t mind. Honestly. It’d very much hurt, yes, but the sheer euphoria would definitely outweigh that. 

…And that’d be outweighed by the need to maintain some sense of dignity.

“Ah, ’twas perhaps a tad indecent of me to suggest that. My apologies,” Minos said after a moment.

Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it… Like hell I’ll admit to that.

“...No, no. It’s fine,” Gabriel quickly replied with a rather awkward-sounding chuckle. “Anyway! I should probably get back to work, this floor isn’t going to wax itself.”

“I… shall leave thee to it, then.”

With that, Minos walked off, and Gabriel could finally let out a soft sigh of relief. He only hoped he hadn’t been too obvious. Who suggests something like that, to someone like me..? I’m the sanest, most normal person there is, what is it about me that would give it away?

Right. The floor. It wouldn’t look good if he didn’t do it in one go, he was sure. He was about a fourth of the way done, further interruptions from anyone seemed unlikely, and he probably wouldn’t have the energy to finish it some other day, so he continued waxing the floor of the main hall.

● ● ●

His knees hurt like hell, as did his back. And shoulders. And his whole body, really. That was to be expected, since it'd been a long time since he last spent over two hours on his knees.

…Don't go there.

Gabriel was only about halfway there, yet he was already exhausted. He didn't really even want to zone out anymore to make it more bearable. No matter how tired he was, he'd have to finish what he started.

…He always finished everything in one go, whether it was cleaning, reading, or any of his tiny crochet projects. If he ever decided to mop the floor in one room, he'd automatically mop all the floors in the palace, since he'd already taken the necessary tools out of storage. When reading a book before bed, he couldn't just stop in the middle of it and continue the next evening, he had to read it to the end in one sitting. Even if it meant staying up until dawn. To fix that, he'd started choosing much shorter books to read. It seemed to work, for now.

The ache in his back was growing unbearable, and while he'd dealt with several types of pain before, this dull ache was the most common and least pleasant. It was often caused by this kind of ‘back-breaking labour’, literally. Normally he'd perhaps take a painkiller to ease it, granted he had any on hand. There were probably still a few packets around in some cupboard.

I haven't earned it yet.

He kept waxing the floor. Applying wax, smoothing it out with a cloth, shuffling back and repeating the process. It was almost torture. Self-imposed and escapable, something he could halt now and continue tomorrow when he was well-rested again. Would he even want to do it tomorrow? Would he forget about it, and it’d remain half-done until somebody else came along and cursed his half-assed work, having to scrape the wax off and redo everything? Whoever that was, they’d hate him for it. They deserved to have floors properly waxed, windows flawlessly washed, and order perfectly maintained. Every piece of furniture in its optimal place, complementing each other in every room. He wanted to keep things like they used to be.

Like they used to be…

Like they used to be. The same carpet in the main hall, same thick purple curtains framing every window in each hallway, same furniture in the same spots. Same paintings in the same places on the walls, same bit of torn wallpaper under the third window in the east hallway. All this, yet he couldn’t recreate the scent anymore. It was gone. Perhaps it’d been him, bringing in his own scent and messing with the old one. Or perhaps he was just used to it already.

…It hurts. This hurts. I think I need a small break, I really do. I should take a break. But what would they think, seeing me sitting on my ass doing nothing?

…They can't blame me for needing a break. I get tired like anyone else, even I need to rest sometimes. They can't blame me.

● ● ●

Sprawled out on the floor of the main hall was one angel, a putty knife loosely grasped in one hand and a piece of cloth in the other. He'd been laying there for at least half an hour at this point. Not that it mattered, there was still plenty of time left in the day.

No one had yet come to check up on him. He hadn't even assumed they would, they probably had their own interests that they were busy with. Hobbies and stuff. He perhaps wished he himself had a more interesting hobby than being a glorified maid.

Gabriel found himself wishing the chandelier above would fall on him. Not so that it'd kill him, just so he'd be injured enough to not work for a bit. Though that was entirely his own choice, to work or not to work.

I reckon I've rested enough. I'll just… get up and keep working. Right.

His arms were heavy. They refused to listen, as did his legs. It was like being paralysed by fear, except he wasn't… Maybe he was a little afraid. Of consequences.

Speaking of consequences, he was suddenly startled by the quiet creaking of the stairs. Great… It's him again.  

As if summoned by a mere thought of his, Minos appeared when least (and most) needed. He seemed calm and collected as ever, clearly having had a neat reading session in his stupidly nice library, probably with a refreshing cup of tea or two. 

“Thou appear to be in a state of… distress, angel.”

Gabriel didn't even bother trying to get up anymore. He simply lay there, and sighed. “...I'm tired.”

“Then rest.” 

A simple and common answer, one that usually worked to fix the issue of tiredness. But the situation was more complicated than that. 

“...But I'm not done yet,” Gabriel insisted, staring up at Minos, who was looking straight down at him. A peculiar situation, really. 

…How doesn't all that goop just fall out of his face? I suppose I prefer it this way, rather than have it fall on my face with a wet ‘plop’. 

“And..?”

“...What do you mean ‘and’? That's literally it, I'm not done yet.”

“And why wouldst thou need to finish it all today?” Minos’ tone was so gentle and calm it was almost condescending, almost like that of a parent talking to a child throwing a temper tantrum. Except he wasn't a child nor throwing a temper tantrum. He was tired, and a bit stubborn. 

…Tired and a lot stubborn.

“Because I'll probably forget to do it tomorrow, or maybe I'll remember and just constantly have it haunting me in the back of my mind as I'm doing other chores. Or I'll be so paralysed by the thought of continuing this thing that I won't be able to get out of bed at all,” Gabriel rambled. “Perhaps I'll never finish this, and it’ll remain half-waxed until somebody else does it, if the floor’s even in any condition to be treated anym-”

“Angel…” Minos kneeled down next to Gabriel, who was still on the floor looking like one of those animal hide rugs that weird people owned. “Thou art clearly overthinking it.” 

“...I know.”

“Say, wouldst thou consider letting me aid thee with this monumental task? I assure thee, I am also capable of physical labour.”

“...You, helping me ?” 

That's absurd. This is a ‘peasant’ task, why would he want to dirty his hands when I'm here to do it? He's far too important for… 

Well, not really anymore, and neither am I, but… but he's the host, and I'm a mere guest! A guest that has stayed for months and kind of made this place his home. Kind of.

“Correct. Dost such a concept seem absurd to thee?”

Gabriel let out a sigh. This man was impossible, truly. “With all due respect, do you even know how to wax a floor?” 

“...Perhaps thine instructions might help.”

My instructions… I suppose I still know how to teach things, and he knows how to listen.

“...Alright, fine. Fine. You may help.” With a quiet groan, Gabriel sat up. He managed to not wince as pain twice as strong as before radiated up his back. Laying on the hard floor clearly couldn’t rid anyone of back pain.

…This’ll be fine.

Chapter Text

He’d ruined everything.

That was the first thought that hit Gabriel as he awoke in a derelict building, sprawled out on a waterlogged spring mattress with the overwhelming smell of rotting wood and who-knows-what-else hanging over him. His clothes were thoroughly soaked, and the wind blowing through the walls didn't help with staying warm in the slightest.

He stared up at the false sky, which was made easier by the fact that there was barely anything left of the roof. It let the rain in nicely.

The building was an old warehouse of sorts, with ruined wooden crates strewn about and rummaged through. He'd checked them too, but they had nothing left, not even the nails that held them together. Not that he'd expected much.

His fingers were cold and stiff. Last night, he'd gotten caught off guard by the rain, and sought shelter in the only building around. This was better than out in the open. 

…He must hate me so much.

And why was Gabriel here? He'd run off after a particularly bad morning of fucking up everything he did. Barely brushed up against a vase? Shattered. Went to get a mug for his coffee? Cupboard door fell off. Walked down the stairs? Tripped and landed right on his wings. Tried to interact with the machine? It got spooked and scuttled off. 

It was almost as if he was both a bad luck charm and the person cursed by it. Even Minos hadn't approached him that morning when he usually did so, always greeting him happily and talking about the weather, the latest book he'd read, or his plans for the day ahead. But that morning? Nothing. He hadn't seen the Prime Soul at all that day, almost as if Minos had been avoiding him. People could have bad days, of course, when they didn't want to interact with anyone. He knew that, he'd had plenty of those.

Could it be that he's grown bored of me? That he actually finds the morning routine dreary and dull, and that he thinks I'm stupid and predictable and good for nothing but daily chores?

…I'm breaking my own heart here.

Gabriel sat up, shuddering a little as his hand sank into the squishy and thoroughly soaked mattress. The weather truly was horrific. He'd probably catch a cold from this, not that it bothered him. Minos would nurse him back to health if he were to return like that. Maybe. 

What if he won't? What then? Would he even want me back in the palace? Did I fuck this up that bad..?

He got to his feet. The cold seeped into his bones, but he deemed himself fit enough to fly, even when he knew not where to go. Aimless and without a clear goal. Free yet shackled at the same time. He didn't have the heart to leave the Lust layer, in case Minos actually came looking for him. The likelihood of that was never zero.

The air rarely felt so heavy, like it was dragging him down no matter how frantically he flapped his wings. It may have been physical exhaustion, too, but this feeling was all too similar to the one that washed over him when he got berated or lectured, back then. It was a funny little thing his brain did called ‘feeling guilty as all hell’. Guilty for fucking up all the time, for leaving like that, for being a general nuisance and bother and a source of worry and misery and-

I miss my room, and my bed. Though they're technically not mine. Nothing here is.

…He had no right to be here, in this layer. Not after what he'd done, then and now. 

That's… I did it, I know. I can't change anything anymore. If any more than… those three were here, they'd probably beat me to death. Maybe I'd be burned at the stake. Deservedly so.

Everything below seemed so small, like dirt, grains of sand, pine needles and wood chips in an anthill. The remaining buildings were as specks of dust were on a window. All sorts of climbing plants had covered most of them, so it wasn't all depressing and dark grey out here anymore. The recent bout of randomly scheduled rain had all the plantlife flourishing. 

Randomly scheduled rain… I'm surprised those systems still work, without anyone there. 

…Actually, I'm not surprised. He’d thought of everything, even of the worst-case scenario that I ever so graciously set in motion.

He landed on a rooftop, avoiding the gaping hole in the middle seemingly caused by a large chunk of concrete, and peered down the hole. An office building, each floor identical to the last. Same half a desk in the same spot on each, same extension cord right by it, same hole straight to the basement. The only thing differentiating each floor was the different shapes of the dried bloodstains. It was quite beautiful, in a strange, morbid way.

Gliding down, he set foot on the third floor. It was cleaner than the rest. Desks were dragged and arranged next to each other, pieces of fabric laid atop as a roof, in order to form some sort of a fortress or den. There were two of them, and he checked each. 

Blankets and pillows, with magazines and books, empty cans and bottles. A lighter, rusted fork, empty box of matches. Three plush toys. A sun-bleached hare, a tortoise with frayed edges, and a fox with a large hole in its chest from where stuffing spilled out. It appeared somebody had tried to haphazardly patch up the fox plush several times, but each time the thread had given out.

Somebody loved it a lot, it seems. To keep mending something that refuses such help.

There was also a cross next to the three plush toys. It was crudely crafted from rope and two sticks, like a mockery of those one would see at a graveyard before the actual headstone was put in its place.

…Oh, of course it's a gravesite. They probably had nothing left to bury, that's why it's here. Sheltered from weather to keep it from getting destroyed by the elements. A shrine.

His heart ached. He hated reminders like this, of how stupidly human they'd been even in death and despair. To construct a monument for the memory of another, when they could've been out gathering food and other resources. All despair ever did for him was turn him into an animal.

Gabriel shook his head, and kept exploring the building. Not for the sake of exploring, but just to waste some time before he'd inevitably have to go back home.

Home… It might as well be.

A floor up, nothing but scattered soggy papers, seats with torn cushions and desks chopped up to be used as firewood. Another floor up, more seats, desks and papers, along with shards of glass. All the floors above were like that, so he went down to floor two.

There were more makeshift dens made from office desks and fabric, at least four. The first two were as expected. Blankets, a pillow, some items of clothing, rope, a rusty knife and several pages torn from what seemed to be a diary. The handwriting was nigh illegible, and the few words he recognised were in a language he couldn't recall. Shaky letters, lines written over each other. Panicked scribbles and frantic doodles.

The third shelter had bones. A whole humanoid skeleton, curled up in the fetal position, some clothing still hanging on. It was surprisingly pristine, with undisturbed surroundings suggesting it'd been placed there. Bone by bone.

…I'm sorry. I'm… so sorry.

Sat on his knees, Gabriel simply stared at the clearly deceased person. It wasn't his first time, he'd seen death before plenty of times, even caused it. Hell, he'd even talked to a skeleton many times. It shouldn't have been this hard to see one that didn't move or talk, and was just… dead.

There were signs the bones had been scrubbed clean, somewhat clothed, and neatly arranged into what he was looking at. Somebody loved this person.

He got up, and decided to not peek into the fourth den. He'd cry if there were more bones there.

● ● ●

Gabriel found himself sitting on a seat in the main plaza of an abandoned shopping mall. The glass dome up above, offering a view of the sky, had shattered a long time ago, and thus shards of glass crunched beneath him when he walked. Plantlife had claimed most of the area, vines and such hanging from the mezzanine, shrubs growing from cracks in the floor, and moss growing anywhere where it was moist, such as the other side of the bench he was sat on. 

It looks… so soft. Like clouds.

Giving into his intrusive thoughts, he patted a small lump of moss next to him. It was as soft as he'd presumed it to be. Like his favourite blanket back at home, but in plant form. He wished he could weave this moss into a blanket.

…Perhaps he was actually catching a cold. His brain felt a little fuzzy and his joints ached, though that may have just been the physical exertion of travelling half a city. 

He soon arrived at what used to be a bookstore within the mall. There weren't many books left, as most had probably been used by survivors as fuel for a fire, but he began perusing them nonetheless.

Something to make him forgive me when I'm inevitably found.

Science fiction, romance, fantasy, something a bit more than romance, historical fiction, something a lot more than romance… As was to be expected, the ratio of that kind of books compared to others was majorly skewed towards the former. And sure, they may have been well written, but he’d rather be fileted than get caught reading one.

Lately, he’d been going through encyclopedias on -- among other things -- plants, the ocean, herbal medicine, and birds. Usually before bed, even though he'd promised himself he'd pick shorter books to read. There was nothing more peculiar than the sight of an angel sitting cross-legged on the bed, hunched over an 800-page encyclopedia on all species of birds that used to exist, at four in the morning.

I’ll stop doing that. One day.

…What if that day never comes? Or it comes, but I'm not there to experience it?

Gabriel shook his head, yet the thoughts would not cease.

What if I don't make it..?

He pinched himself. Such thoughts were guaranteed to make him spiral, even worse than before. Before he'd found himself being asked for a rematch of his third fight with the machine. He was so sure he'd die, back then. He was almost hoping for it, as morbid as that sounded. Perhaps the machine had then kicked some will to live into him during that rematch.

Right, I'm ‘shopping’ for books. Looking for an apology gift or ten. Maybe five will do.

Gabriel picked up a book, read the back, and put it into the ‘perhaps’ stack. There were three books there so far, two about romance and one on poetry. He had to add a bit of variety.

Moments later, he'd chosen six books to give to Minos upon inevitably seeing him. The last three books were on fictional murder mysteries. A murder on a train, another few on a boat, some more at an archaeological dig site… Fascinating stories, really.

I'll… read these myself first. Just to make sure he'll actually like them.

He looked around the old bookstore, and discovered a surprisingly intact bag, which he then put the books in. Just to be sure they stayed dry, he wrapped the books in some fabric and old newspapers he’d found.

Hm… Might spend another night out here. A few books aren’t going to make up for this, surely. 

…They would, if I were to also kneel at his feet and beg for forgiveness. Which I absolutely will not do.

Moving on, Gabriel looked for some other interesting shop or boutique in the overgrown mall. Restaurants, clothing stores, pet stores, ‘pet’ stores, a pharmacy… He decided to check out the pharmacy.

A not at all surprising scene presented itself before him. Shelves pushed over, lamps and windows shattered, locked cabinets pried open. Pills, tablets and capsules of all sorts were scattered on the floor, which he tried his best to avoid stepping on. Perhaps there'd be an intact package of painkillers, a tube of antiseptic cream, or maybe some bandages. He… They went through a lot of those.

Behind the counter were a couple opened boxes, and plenty more empty. He found a few rolls of bandages, thankfully, but apart from that, he came out empty-handed. 

This isn't enough…

The next few shops didn't have much, either. Some intact pieces of clothing, a shovel, three deflated car tires (he didn’t take them), and a flashlight. Nothing edible, of course. That’d defeat the whole purpose of this place being a hellscape of pain and suffering. He still didn’t need to eat, of course, but the craving was there. Oh, what he’d give for a nice bowl of soup…

I don’t know what else he’d like besides books. Maybe some gardening tools, though I doubt I'll find any.

…What would the machine like? He reckoned he'd have to ask it for forgiveness too, for leaving it alone with Minos for longer than five minutes. It often stuck to him like a shadow, so this separation must be torture. If it can even feel anything.

I think simply my blood will do, honestly. I doubt it'd even want material things.

● ● ●

Night arrived sooner than expected, and with it came the need to seek shelter again. The air was cold, as expected, and it was beginning to rain a little again. A place with intact walls and something of a roof wouldn't be much to ask for, right?

He hadn't found anything useful since exploring that mall. Some rubble, several skeletonised corpses, and a shiny but ultimately useless necklace that he practically shredded his hands fetching. Just a few cuts and scratches. Nothing serious, but they did sting.

And if they get infected, my hands will fall off. Because that's obviously how it works.

After what felt like at least half an hour of walking, Gabriel happened upon a rather intact building. It appeared to be a small cathedral or shrine of sorts, the door of which fell off when he opened it, though he managed to prop it back up again. If it were to fall over in the middle of the night, he'd die of a heart attack.

With some pieces of wood and such laying around, he covered the few small windows there were, to hopefully keep the cold out. Once that was done, he looked around a little. A muddy and torn carpet leading up to an altar, framed by five or so rows of broken seats, and a chandelier that'd fallen onto said altar. Fine crystal shards covered the ground surrounding it.

…A real shame. I'd clean this up had I brought a broom.

There didn't seem to be anything soft to sleep on, no mattress to put between himself and the floor. Thus, he chose to tear down (gently remove) some curtains from the windows. He rolled one up into a pillow and folded another into something of a mattress, using a third as a blanket. A rather comfortable bed, if he said so himself.

…

It was so fucking cold. He'd been laying there, wide awake, for the past few hours. Jumping whenever he heard a soft creak or the wind howling, quickly sitting up and looking around with the flashlight, just to see nothing out of the ordinary.

The storm outside was growing more intense, rain beating against the roof so hard he feared it would fall apart. The cold seeped into his bones, and there was a leak somewhere in the building, as he could hear water trickling. 

…I miss home. I'd give anything just to be able to sleep in my own bed. 

Gabriel shivered as a powerful gust of wind blew through the building, tearing down the planks covering the windows. He pulled the curtain-turned-blanket over himself tighter in an attempt to preserve as much body heat as possible.

I wonder what he's doing… Probably getting ready for bed, having some evening tea. Or maybe he's already in bed, and is reading a book.

…Maybe he's pacing back and forth in front of a window, worried sick about me. Gazing out, hoping to catch a glimpse of me on my way home. Wondering where I could've gone and why.

A crash echoed through the building. Gabriel shot up, his heart rate rocketing. His palms felt sweaty as he gripped the flashlight and frantically looked around, each heartbeat thudding loudly in his ears. Had someone broken in, did they have a weapon? What did they want from him? Was this it..?

…A smaller chandelier had just fallen. Nothing more.

Oh, phew. That's… a relief.

Once certain that there was no threat, he curled up under the covers again, hoping to finally fall asleep. 

The machine, it must be starving. Unless it's not as picky as I presumed.

Slowly, the adrenaline wore off, and he found himself shaking once more. Not shivering, but shaking. Trembling. His heart was like lead, sinking as low as it could go, aching. He gripped the covers tight.

I'm so stupid… So, so stupid. Who gets scared by something like that? What kind of an angel am I, getting startled by a random thing falling in the middle of the night?

…This is probably why he no longer talks to me. I'm scared of everything. Every second of every moment is scary, he's scary, the uncertainty of the future is scary… Dying is scary. I wasn't like this before, why am I scared now..?

He bit his lip, attempting to prevent the inevitable, tears threatening to spill. This was pathetic. A grown being, almost crying because he was scared and lonely and missed home? Pathetic. 

I just want things to be okay. They never will be, but I want that. 

…How selfish of me. I don’t deserve anything, not even something as simple and meaningless as a hug.

Despite his best attempts, a sniffle escaped him. A soft, pathetic sniffle. Like a wounded animal, he retreated further under the covers, removing his helmet as to not get tears and snot on the inside of it. One less thing to worry about.

…I want a hug. From anyone. Even just out of pity.

…

After a moment or two, the tears slowly ceased, as did the sinking feeling in his chest and lump in his throat. The scratches on his hands stung. Salty tears weren’t any good for injuries like that. He wiped his face with a corner of the carpet-turned-blanket, and put his helmet back on. 

…One less thing to worry about.

● ● ●

He couldn't reach the surface no matter how fervently he swam. Dark, murky water surrounded him on all sides, the bottom of it invisible. Which way even was ‘bottom’? Each kick and stroke lifted up more silt, which made the visibility even worse. 

His lungs hurt. He could barely feel his limbs, and his wings seemed to be weighing him down significantly. Maybe he was sinking faster than he could swim up. A whimper escaped him, one of desperation.

…Please help me.

He found himself inhaling water, his lungs and windpipe feeling like they were on fire. His limbs refused to listen. Not a single sound left him, though he tried. His heart, if he even had one, felt as if it was being squeezed tightly. He could do nothing but accept this end.

I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I don't want to-

Above him was a hand reaching out. It was white and translucent, with a slight ethereal glow emanating from it. A light. 

He instinctively reached out, attempting to grasp this lifeline. He was so close he could almost touch the fingertips. So close, yet so far.

Please, just a little further… A little further.

It was only getting further away. 

Why..? Please, help me… Why's it..?

He sank, slowly at first, then faster. The hand faded out of sight. 

It’s okay… I deserve this. It's… better like this, right?

...

A tap against his helmet. After that, a second one, and then a third. Gabriel let out a quiet groan as he rolled onto his back and opened his eyes.

There was a small opening in the roof, conveniently enough right above him. A leak.

…At least I don't own this place. That'd be a pain to fix, I think.

He suddenly heard the crunch of gravel. Footsteps, one pair. Gabriel quietly got up and snuck to a door off to the side, brandishing a shovel to knock the intruder out. He wasn't taking any chances.

I can do this. I can knock out some random person that shows up at a place where I’m taking shelter.

Listening closer, he heard a second, quieter pair of footsteps approaching. An accomplice. His heart sank, and he gripped the shovel tighter. He hoped they were unarmed.

It’s fine, it's fine… It might not be that bad. This won't kill them.

The footsteps got closer and closer. They weren't even being quiet, trying to sneak up. As if they didn't know he was there. But who wanders about here in the middle of the night?

…They're here.

As the side door creaked open, Gabriel swung the shovel at the first figure that emerged. The figure nimbly dodged the strike. Instead, it hit the second, taller figure right in the shoulder. The figure had white, translucent skin, and-

Minos..?

Gabriel froze. He'd just… He'd hit the ever-patient, kind, sweet, caring Minos. He tried to swallow the growing lump in his throat.

“O-oh…” Gabriel muttered softly, almost inaudibly. “I’m… so sorry.”

In response, Minos simply took the shovel from the angel’s hands, and placed it down leaning against a wall. 

…Why's he not saying anything? Is he mad at me?

Of course he's mad at me, I hit him..!

The silence was always worse than any insult he'd get, back then. They'd stop talking to and even acknowledging him, waiting until he was sufficiently broken down. He'd be on his hands and knees asking, no, begging for any crumb of attention. An insult, or a mere hum of acknowledgement. Anything. Being seen was a sign that he existed, that he meant something.

Thus, he dropped to his knees, head bowed. Minos expected that of him, right?

“I’m sorry, I… I didn't mean to, I didn't know it was you, I-” Gabriel continued, fumbling his words like an idiot. He certainly felt like one.

He's never done anything to hurt me, but… Even someone like him has a breaking point, right?  

He suddenly felt surprisingly calm, considering the circumstances. Maybe he was beyond overwhelmed. Nonetheless, all sound, even that of Minos’ voice, was muffled and distant. His vision was a blur, but he could feel each heartbeat clearly. Each blink, each attempt at swallowing the lump in his throat, the way his hands gripped his own clothing, every single inhale and exhale. He was distinctly aware of himself. Every inch of skin that fabric was touching, the cold emanating from the floor beneath him, each scent he breathed in, and the hand that was suddenly placed on his shoulder, sending what felt like a hundred thousand volts coursing through his whole body.

Gabriel flinched, startling him back into the situation at hand. Minos was sat in front of him, his hand on the angel’s shoulder, and concern evident despite his lack of a face.

“Pardon my forwardness, angel.” Minos pulled his hand back. “Thou wert completely unresponsive.”

“No, no. It's fine, you… could've kept it there.”

Mortified that such words had come from him, Gabriel immediately shook his head and scrambled to save some face. “I-I-I mean..! I meant… I just thought it felt nice. Wait, no, I meant it's not… It’s not the worst thing you could've done. That's all.”

Ugh… I’ve completely botched this. He's got to hate me now.

“I… am delighted to hear that.”

…He'd be smiling right now if he could. If I hadn't-

Shush. I’m not going to sob like a baby in front of him, it'd probably come off as manipulative. Because I don't cry, ever. Last night doesn't count.

Something shattered off to the side. To his not-really-surprise, he saw the machine barge in through a window, covered in what he could only describe as blood, if it was an inky black and reeked of a garbage dump (and maybe five corpses in the middle of decomposing). The machine perched on the back of a seat, its optic bright enough to nearly blind him when it observed the two. It tilted its head when he looked away.

“...Could you stop? We're having a moment,” Gabriel sighed, only realising how wrong that could be interpreted after a few seconds. “Wait, I mean-” 

The machine scuttled a little closer, probably eager to hear how he'd try to fix this slight blunder. Minos seemed to be leaning in a little, too.

“Stop that, both of you. I didn't… I didn't mean it like that.” 

…What a way to diffuse that situation, and make myself look even dumber. Though that's a low price to pay for keeping him relatively happy.

After a moment of staring at him intently, the machine went for his arm. It seemed as if it hadn't refuelled the whole time he was gone, as this time it made a larger, hastier wound and quickly pressed it against itself. 

“Hm… Thy blood appears to be far superior,” Minos said. “It refused to even sample mine.”

So picky… Beggars can’t usually be choosers, though.

“I think anything will do once its reserves are low enough. One more day, and you would've had this vampire clinging to your arm.” Gabriel shrugged, which made the machine yank his arm closer to itself. It appeared that it liked uninterrupted feeding time.

“Perhaps. Though I hope thou continue to stay over at the palace, if only to feed this creature.”

Oh, he’s not tired of me yet? I guess I should be happy about this.

“...May I ask why?”

He immediately began regretting asking the question when Minos took a long, deep breath. No one ever did that before normal, lighthearted, and not depressing responses.

“I have experienced enough solitude to last a lifetime, and as such would much prefer to never endure similar anguish again.”

There it is, something that’s my fault again. I shouldn’t have asked…

Gabriel fell silent. It was as if the bubble that was this tiny moment of happiness got impaled by a needle, right where its core would be. To keep it quick, to give it no chance of survival or time to beg. Oh, how he wished he’d listened…

“I do not blame thee, angel.”

The words somehow managed to pull him out of a growing death spiral of regrets, like a lifebuoy which he did not deserve. He didn’t know why Minos even bothered with him. He had every right to hate him, to tear him apart limb by limb, to extinguish whatever embers of light there were left within him. He couldn’t stop wishing Minos would be any less merciful.

“But you should.”

“Yet I do not.” Minos then stood up, offering Gabriel a hand. “...Shall we go? Thou must be freezing out here.”

What if I ruin everything again? If I run off and he decides it’s not worth it to come chasing me again, and when I inevitably get sick I’ll die alone and in pain in some ruins, wishing I hadn’t been so damn stupid-

The machine tapped Gabriel’s helmet, urging him to get up as well. It seemed to be done refuelling.

…Thanks.

“Fine, whatever.” He hesitantly got to his feet and gave the machine an absentminded pat on the head. “...Let’s go, then.”

Chapter Text

Soft sunrays filtered through the grand library windows, as they always did on the good reading days. Usually Saturdays, though time had lost its meaning ages ago. He wasn't even sure if it really was a Saturday today. 

But nonetheless, Gabriel had taken to coming here at least once per week, if not to read then to ‘befriend’ Minos by sitting down a bit closer to him each time. This approach was more for himself than Minos, honestly. The first time, he'd sat on the other side of the library, the second time a little closer, all the way to sitting on the other end of the same couch. They'd even started getting into casual conversation, mainly about the books they were reading. Usually, though, there was only silence. Pages flipping, quiet breathing, creaking of the couch when one of them shifted a little. It was nice.

Today, Gabriel was sitting on that couch once more, feet pulled up onto it, with Minos to keep him company. Though honestly, it was more for himself this time as well. Being in the presence of another forced him to maintain a facade of calmness, even when his own head was playing whac-a-mole with his brain cells and winning.

They were reading their separate books, but he couldn’t really focus on his. ‘Life Cycle of Moths’ really wasn’t the most fascinating thing to look at when he was seated right next to someone who reflected light like an expertly cut gemstone. Such iridescence never got any less captivating.

I would steal his skin if it was acceptable to have possessions just for the sake of having possessions. And if doing so wouldn’t kill him.

…Would he even die if I were to just peel a few inches of skin off of his arm, frame it, and put it in my room so the sun would beautifully reflect off of it every morning, almost like a budget disco ball?

…This is rather morbid train of thought.

Minos appeared to be reading a book which was in a completely different language, as Gabriel couldn’t figure out what the title said. Even the letters seemed foreign to him. He quite missed being able to understand every language automatically, back when everything was fine. Relatively fine anyway, compared to the anguish that then followed. Even this current period of peace was just the calm before the storm. 

Despite his internal turmoil, Gabriel found himself gazing upon Minos. He was quite poorly hiding the fact that he was doing so, as his own book was no longer at the optimal reading angle and he’d stopped flipping pages half an hour ago. Hell, Minos could probably feel the angel’s eyes burn into him. If he did, he wasn’t showing it.

Comparing his lustre to that of gemstones was growing old. A full moon’s reflection upon a lake would be an acceptable comparison, were Gabriel a romantic. That, or a poet.

Dew drops in the very centre of lupine leaves on early, humid mornings. Shards of those orange reflectors on bicycles, buried yet still vibrant when the light hit them right. The ocean when gazed upon on a sunny day. The millions of stars in the sky, the real sky. He couldn’t quite recall the last time he’d gazed upon it.

He couldn't help but notice one of those snakes, the ones around Minos’ forearms, move. The last time he'd seen them do so was months ago, when he was cooking something and found ingredients going missing whenever he turned his back. They were some peculiar things, too, like a whole sweet potato and a knife block (with the knives). He'd found one snake under the kitchen sink, the sweet potato literally visible through its translucent skin, but he let it be. That sweet potato was as good as gone. The second snake had been on its return trip to Minos, its ‘meal’ slowing down its escape significantly. Minos later somehow managed to get that knife block out with both it and the snake intact.

One of those translucent white snakes uncoiled from around Minos’ forearm, and slowly slithered its way towards Gabriel. He didn't hate snakes, but… they were probably a little moist, suspiciously long and good at climbing trees, terrifyingly quick when need be, and pretty cold to the touch. Not to mention the obvious.

Gabriel subtly pressed himself a little more against the armrest, anything to get a bit of distance from… that. Yet it kept approaching. Soon, the worm-like beast was upon him, its tongue lightly flicking against his exposed ankle. He didn't move a muscle.

The vile creature then slithered up and up and up, until it was basically on his lap, looking up at him. He couldn't recall when exactly he'd stopped breathing.

“...Ah. It must consider thy scent to be rather intriguing,” Minos said upon noticing the angel’s predicament. 

“Are you implying I smell like a dead mouse..?” 

● ● ●

It had been watching them for a while now. Four hours, thirty-six minutes, and twelve and half seconds to be exact. Thirteen seconds now. V1 had its own little den in the grand library, tucked away in a bookshelf close to the ceiling. From there it had an unobstructed view of the couch the two were sat upon, without the risk of being seen, even if it moved a little. 

From its point of view, Gabriel appeared surprisingly relaxed, almost… It perused some data it’d pulled from the recycle bin just in the nick of time. Data on human psychology, human behaviours, common human problems. It’d had to make space for all those Gabriel pictures. Besides, there was currently only one person in the room that even barely qualified as a human, it could wing it if need be.

There. 

…Smitten? Maybe, perhaps. The way he was constantly preening his wings could be from stress, the warmth in his tone when speaking could just be general happiness or contentedness. He could barely tear his gaze away from the other, though.

That seemed to give way to barely muffled panic when one of those snakes slithered onto the angel. His whole being appeared to instantly tense up, shoulders pulled up as high as they could go and every muscle still. A fairly common reaction to those afraid of snakes. V1 logged that reaction to its list of Gabriel behaviours, under the subsection of ‘Phobias’ in section ‘Fear’. Said subsection certainly was not empty, but many of the entries had question marks behind them to indicate it wasn’t quite sure yet. This angel was a hard one to read sometimes.

Its thermographic camera could detect a spike in Gabriel’s body temperature when Minos plucked the snake off of him. The whole image lit up a bright yellow, like looking straight at the sun, or at Sisyphus. For a moment it was surprised his wings had managed to not show a hint of such emotion, only to notice a bit of pink on their tips. The angel promptly tucked his wings away.

V1 reckoned they should just kiss already. Obviously, it was aware that emotions were a complex thing for beings of flesh, but this was getting so drawn out that even it was getting second-hand embarrassment.

● ● ●

Gabriel couldn’t take his eyes away from that hand, and the urge to just… grab it would not cease growing. He curled up further against the armrest. The book in his hand was on the same page as before, his wings were tucked tightly against his back, and his heart was hammering away in his chest. 

Filled with nervous energy, he finally got up and put the book away. If reading wasn’t going to work, he could always do something else. Maybe cleaning, perhaps gardening, mayhaps exploring…

“...Baking,” Gabriel muttered to himself, which made Minos look up at him.

“Pardon?”

“O-oh… Sorry, I was just pondering what I’d do next.” 

His face flushed with heat, and he wished he could just sink into a gap between the floorboards and die. Humiliating… I’d whack him with a book, if I didn’t want to be on his good side.

“I reckon thy confectionery would perfect this beautiful day, angel. Wouldst thou not agree?”

“Well, heh…” That small compliment went straight to his head, and he found himself stroking his wing so he wouldn’t explode from too much (a single) emotion. “I guess I could bake a little something.”

“Ah, excellent. May I humbly offer my assistance to the expert confectioner? Seeing thee work in the kitchen is akin to-”

“Okay, alright, enough compliments! You may help.”

If I’m baking a cake I won’t have to look at him all the time. I’ll just… give him the most boring task.

The two eventually made their way out of the library, but not before the machine dropped down from the heights onto Gabriel’s shoulders. How long had it been there? He hoped it hadn’t witnessed him fumbling like an idiot, snapping pictures of him overwhelmed by the urge to hold a hand. Perhaps it found the whole thing entertaining.

● ● ●

Perched on the back of a chair, V1 studied the intricate process of making a carrot cake. So far, Gabriel had made Minos grate three large carrots, dropped a springform pan from a significant height onto his own toes, discovered that they lacked all ingredients for the frosting, and made Minos grate a fourth carrot.

Currently, Gabriel was gathering all the other ingredients. Flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, vegetable oil, sugar. Some spices too, like cinnamon, ginger and nutmeg. The only thing they were lacking, apart from the frosting ingredients, were eggs. That was to be expected, as they currently didn't own any egg-laying creatures.

“Wert thou aware that blood may be used instead of eggs in confectionery?” Minos inquired, making V1 perk up. The conversation seemed worth listening to.

“We're not using blood in a carrot cake.” 

How typical of Gabriel to deny such a delicious suggestion. It momentarily lamented the fact that it had no mouth to taste food or protest this injustice with, before flicking a teaspoon at the angel, who caught it without even looking. Show-off.

“Thou couldst also trade for eggs.”

Minos had explained to it before that Gabriel had found more survivors the other day, and that said survivors had chickens. If it could speak, it would've responded that it would gladly take all three of them to where it knew there were more people. But relaying such information wasn’t at the top of its list of priorities.

…Heaven knows it'd thought about killing those people too, intrusive thoughts like an itch it couldn't scratch. It knew that the population would grow faster if it left them alone, which then meant more blood, which meant it'd never have to worry about starving.

“...We're using blood in a carrot cake,” Gabriel sighed, his tone a tad more somber. Not noticeably so, but it could sense a shift in his vibe from a mile away. Oh, the benefits of overanalysing his every move.

It recalled the angel loving humans, why was he so against interacting with these ones? Weren't they just as human-

Oh, right. That event, probably. It'd read about it ages ago, but it hadn't expected him to still have guilt about it. He valued efficiency, did he not? So why weigh himself down with something as useless as ‘guilt’, when there was no longer any relationships broken by the event to repair? There could’ve been the element of familiarity from having carried such an emotion for so long. Maybe he believed his own mental anguish could bring them back.

After a moment, Gabriel spoke again, interrupting its train of thought. “So, should we use mine, or yours? I… don’t know if it even matters, but…”

“Shall we inquire as to the opinion of our blood connoisseur?”

“It’s not even going to eat it,” Gabriel protested. “It doesn’t-”

V1 pointed to Minos, indicating his blood be used for the carrot cake. Gabriel’s blood was its, and its only, not to be wasted on something as trivial as a cake. Every drop was more precious than a 3000-carat diamond. 

“Mine it is then,” Minos hummed, continuing to grate the carrots. He appeared to be on the second one already.

“Ugh, this is ridiculous. I’ll just use mine, it’s not like I’m a stranger to bloodletting.”

As Gabriel approached the mixing bowl and the knife next to it, something within V1 just… told it to stop him. He was just going to waste his blood, its precious fuel, when it’d clearly indicated he shouldn’t. It was almost enough to make it curse his stupid, self-sacrificing ass. 

Thus it lunged at the angel, momentum tipping over the chair it’d perched upon. Just as it did so, Gabriel turned around, and it wrapped each of its limbs around his torso upon impact. Perhaps its action pushed him a little too hard against the counter, as he froze completely. Though that was to be expected with any type of physical contact anyway. 

“Huh? W-what are you doing..?”

It had no way to respond properly, so it simply shook its head to dispel any ideas he may be getting. He was that type, after all.

“Oh… What is it, then?” He sounded disappointed, almost upset. Of course he did.

V1 pried itself off of Gabriel, grabbed the knife and the mixing bowl containing the ‘wet’ ingredients, and marched them over to Minos. Actions ought to speak louder than words or gestures.

“Possessive, is it not? I suggest thou comply with its ruling.”

The angel simply huffed in response.

● ● ●

They probably thought it had scuttled off somewhere else, finding the process of observing them bake to be a waste of its fuel. But in reality, it was hiding beneath the dining table, peeking out from under the tablecloth with the optic’s brightness turned way down. 

Those two were at the counter, with Minos mixing the batter. Gabriel was a little off to the side, reading the recipe and checking the batter occasionally. It reckoned they were severely overmixing it, but as that was none of its business, it let them fuck the process up. Maybe it’d get an another picture of flustered Gabriel.

It noted a slightly bloodied bandage on Minos’ left arm. Said bandage was neatly wrapped, with gauze cushioning the wound and applying pressure to it. Gabriel had insisted on doing both the inflicting and treatment of it.

“Dost thou reckon this is adequate?”

…No response from the angel. After a moment of waiting, Minos took the initiative to gently place a hand on Gabriel’s (lower) back, and to nudge him forward a little. Like any normal person obviously would. This had the unintended effect of the angel’s form instantly lighting up a bright yellow in its thermographic view again, and Gabriel stopping in his tracks. His breath appeared to hitch in his throat.

Perhaps it would’ve been jealous, was it not getting the best shots in its entire existence. Picture number six hundred and forty-five for its ‘Gabriel’ folder. From the other twenty files in said folder, four were video clips and the rest snippets of audio. Seven audio snippets of the angel talking in his sleep, three of him just talking, and ten of him laughing. One bit of audio from their very first meeting. It liked keeping said snippet rattling around in its head, sometimes replaying it over and over again late at night when it didn’t feel like ‘sleeping’.

“H-huh? Oh, uhm…” Gabriel shook his head to reorient himself, like whacking a vending machine to make it relinquish the snack you already paid for. The other’s hand still lingered. “I’m… sorry, what was that?”

“Shall this suffice?” Minos gestured towards the mixing bowl. It couldn’t see the contents, but it assumed the batter looked about right.

“Ah, right… Yes, that’ll do.”

Gabriel grabbed the bowl, and poured its contents into a pan, scraping out every last bit of batter. The process seemed to come naturally to him.

An apron would’ve looked good on him today. There was one hanging from a hook by the door, a light turquoise one with large pink and smaller orange flowers on it. It’d seen him wear it before, it even had two pictures of him in it. It would’ve put the apron on him itself was it not concerned with staying hidden.

He then placed the cake pan into a preheated oven. 180℃, it recalled, for half an hour or so. Plenty of time to drag him outside for fresh air. It wanted him to be healthy, obviously just so it didn’t have to go looking for another fuel source when his blood turned stale. This one was nice.

● ● ●

Gabriel was taking a well-deserved break, sat on the rooftop of one of the intact buildings. The machine had insisted, dragging him out with such force he was afraid it’d tear his arm clean off if he didn’t comply. It wasn’t bad to stretch his wings a little.

That machine was up to something, he knew it. It was constantly bringing him indecent books, junk metal, and even jewellery it’d found. Even now he could see it in an adjacent building, going through cupboards and cabinets with indescribable fervour. It never showed such interest in trinkets.

Maybe it has a virus? I would hope not, I can’t fix that.

It soon clambered up the building again with its arms full of junk. He’d sorted the stuff it’d brought into piles on the rooftop, the largest pile being the one containing junk metal. The machine placed its haul down, and plopped down next to Gabriel, holding its closed fist in front of him.

“What do you have there?” 

The machine, once certain he was looking, opened its hand. There was a golden ring with a large diamond embedded into it. It was in dire need of polishing, the names engraved on the inside of it illegible, but otherwise it seemed intact.

But he had one thing to ask. “You… didn’t take it off of a corpse, did you?” 

It shook its head vigorously, almost offended by the mere suggestion. As he reached to inspect it closer, the machine grabbed his left hand, and put the ring on his ring finger.

Does it want to..? No, no. Impossible.

“E-excuse me..?” Stars, he sounded pathetic. It was a miracle he didn’t start wobbling like a sheet of plastic in the wind, because his spine certainly felt anything but solid.

It tilted its head.

“I meant, um, why… why did you do this?” Gabriel clarified. “What does putting a… a ring on someone’s finger mean to you?”

The machine pointed to the ring, and then towards the palace. The implications were obvious.

“W-what? No, no, you’ve got it all completely wrong..!” He let out a nervous laugh. He’d never had to explain ‘love’ to a computer, and the difference between that, and… whatever they had.

It poked his chest, then pointed to the ring and the palace again. Perhaps it was getting frustrated with his denial.

“Listen, machine. I… I don’t know what kind of conclusions you’ve drawn, but he and I, we’re just friends.” 

…That was painful to say. Physically painful.

If a machine could give a suspicious stare, this one sure was giving him one. How did it not believe him? Maybe it really did have a virus, a virus that made it extremely firm in its beliefs.

“Where would you even get such a ridiculous idea? I obviously hold no such interest towards anyone, and I highly doubt he’d feel that way about me. He has specific standards, machine, as do I.”

No matter how hard he denied it, it only made him look more guilty. The machine stared at him with that large eye of its, piercing into him, probing at his soul. Its insistence was almost infuriating.

It wouldn’t stop staring, and he felt as if he was frozen solid on the spot. He couldn’t look away. Its insistence was almost terrifying.

“I’m… I’m serious, machine. I don’t have that kind of interest in him, you have to believe me. I… I don’t care that he’s the kindest and most patient person I’ve ever met, that his hands look perfect for holding, that I would drag down every star in the night sky in order to see him happy, that he…”

…Oh, I’ve done it now. 

The machine made a heart symbol with its hands, and tilted its head. Why does it care? It shouldn’t care, it wasn’t created for… matchmaking or anything.

Gabriel let out a sigh and got to his feet. The urge to run off and vanish without a trace was immense, but he recalled what happened last time. The cold, the loneliness, the anxiety, the guilt. He’d wasted everyone’s time, his own time. He was still wasting everyone’s time, with his stupid emotions and ridiculous fantasies. It’d never work out.

“...Fine. I’ll do it at my own pace, just don’t tell him. I need some time.”

Chapter Text

A third blanket, then another. Gabriel rummaged around his closet for anything to warm him up. It was a nice spring day, yet he’d awoken frozen to the core, every single joint of his stiff and aching. A headache was forming as well. 

…He’d be back to his usual self in no time at all, though. He always bounced back after a day, or even just a few hours. He’d be fine. Just a bit of rest, and-

His legs gave out from beneath him as he staggered back towards his bed, knees hitting the floor with a thud. No matter. He picked himself back up, and after a slight struggle, managed to crawl under the covers. 

Five blankets --a completely normal amount of blankets to have when he was feeling only a little chilly-- covered him, each pulled right up to his chin. They worked to stop him from shivering, at least.

The light coming in through his window hurt, yet he had not the energy to get up again and close the curtains. He’d just have to imagine them closed. He pulled a blanket up over his head, granting him the rare mercy of his head not hurting as much. Beautiful, gentle mercy.

This’ll pass. Just a day, and I’ll be… I’ll be in perfect shape. Like nothing ever happened. I…

…Lost my train of thought. Great. Can’t get out of bed, can’t keep my thoughts in order… What’s next? Can’t form coherent sentences? Can’t stay conscious for longer than five minutes at a time..?

A knock at the door startled him awake. When had he fallen asleep? He couldn’t quite recall.

Another knock. It was the machine, probably, impatient as ever. He’d missed its preferred feeding time, maybe. He couldn’t quite make sense of the clock on the wall.

Third knock. Then fourth, fifth, sixth… It would not cease, and his head was starting to hurt again. The door was locked, he knew, but something about the thought of getting up seemed just… It seemed insurmountable. He couldn’t quite figure out the words to make it leave him alone.

It appeared it’d had enough of him not answering, as it burst in through the door, leaving a sizable hole in it. He would’ve chastised it, if he had the energy.

The machine looked around for a moment, before realising he was still in bed. It rushed over, pulling the blankets off of him, and shook him by the shoulders. He could only let out a quiet groan in response. It immediately ceased, and stared right at his helmet. The brightness of its optic was probably cranked up to the highest setting.

So bright… It hurts.

It tapped his shoulder lightly. He flinched, as even that hurt, and pulled the blankets back up to his chin. Perfect, comfortable warmth.

“I’m… I’m still alive,” Gabriel muttered, attempting to chuckle a little. He sounded barely like himself at all. His voice was weak and hoarse, pathetic even, a far cry from what it usually was. It hurt to talk.

The machine turned down the brightness of its optic, and tilted its head. It probably didn’t know what to make of seeing him in a state like this. Maybe it thought he was dying? He found himself wishing he was, kind of.

“...I’m fine.”

He was absolutely not fine. Even the machine seemed to conclude as much, as it soon rushed out through the hole in the door. At least that damn spotlight wasn’t in his face anymore.

● ● ●

It dashed down the hall, frantically looking for probably the only person that could fix Gabriel. While the situation wasn’t quite as urgent as its behaviour made it seem, the angel’s state was incredibly concerning, thus it’d taken the number one spot on V1’s priority list. It knew that repairs were better done sooner rather than later. Continued use of damaged parts would quickly render one prey to any number of beings, leading to either a swift and painless or slow and torturous demise.

In the lounge it found its target. Minos appeared to be studying something, as he was taking notes while reading a book titled ‘Horticulture 101: How to Keep Any Plant Alive (For At Least a Week)’ . It thought such an activity to be a waste of time. To it, he seemed perfectly capable of caring for plants. Not that it mattered, since it had a more urgent matter to ‘discuss’.

V1 hopped onto the desk, and grabbed Minos’ arm with all four of its hands, its grip firm yet not enough to hurt. That ought to be enough to get his full attention.

“Ah, hello. Is there something thou art in need of?”

It quickly nodded, yanking his arm a little. If it had a voice module, it definitely wouldn’t be able to shut up with how much information it wanted to convey to him all at once.

“And that something is..?”

It pointed towards the door it’d just entered through. Just to make sure he actually understood, it hopped off of the desk, and then pulled on his arm a bit harder. That appeared to work, as Minos followed it without another word. Excellent. It led him up the stairs and towards Gabriel’s room, urgency evident in its steps.

Before long, they entered the room, the angel waking up once more upon their arrival. It silently cursed itself for making too much noise. From what it recalled, humans required a lot of rest to recover from things. That probably applied to Gabriel, too.

“Oh, there’s…” Gabriel began, before a cough interrupted him. “There was no need to drag him here, machine. I’m… completely fine.”

He looked even worse off than before. Perhaps it was the lighting, but he was most definitely sweating beneath all of those blankets, his body temperature reading a toasty 39℃. That would’ve been nothing for V1. Its systems often reached closer to 60℃ even when idling, thanks to a million things always running in the background. 

“Thy creature doth appear to have great concern for thy wellbeing.” Minos pulled up a seat next to the bed, and sat down. “How art thou feeling?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine… Just a little tired.”

Minimising his struggles, how typical. It could do nothing but anxiously observe the exchange, setting up camp in the little space there was on the foot of the bed. Perhaps it could function as a heater for him if need be.

“I somehow find myself doubting thy words, angel.”

“Ugh, whatever…” 

Gabriel turned his back to Minos, grumbling to himself. V1 took this as its opportunity to be useful. It crawled between the angel and the wall, and settled there. A portable heater, it was.

“...Oh, you're warm,” Gabriel muttered, carefully wrapping his arms around its chassis. It had to turn off the dozen warnings that popped up, one after another, but it was totally worth it. He wanted warmth? That'd be what he got.

It didn't quite understand why it'd decided to do this. Humans huddled together when cold, they lit fireplaces and bonfires, they wore thicker clothes. The first option was the simplest, so it reckoned that was why it'd done so.

Was he… purring? It was pretty sure the sound was coming from Gabriel, none of its own fans ever made such a noise. 

…Yes, that sound was definitely coming from the angel. It'd never heard him do so before, but that didn't necessarily mean some part of him was broken. A book it had scanned over a week ago had told it of an animal species that purred when content, angels couldn't be that different from cats.

It recalled ‘reading’ that cats liked to be petted on their little heads. Maybe angels liked that too? 

As Gabriel's head wasn't really… available for petting, V1 decided on the next best thing. Its hand made its way under the five trillion blankets, soon finding the base of his wings, and gave the area a few experimental scritches. Testing the waters, as some would say. This made Gabriel purr even louder somehow. It recorded a short audio clip --for archive purposes-- and continued with the scritches. 

He seemed… happy. If he was happy, he'd be less likely to up and vanish (an event which would very much limit its available fuel sources). If he was happy, he'd be less likely to deny it fuel. More likely to do interesting things, and give it opportunities to take nice pictures of him. If he was happy, it probably was too. Though it doubted it had the capacity for emotions the same way humans did.

“Ahem. Angel, after a moment of pondering, I-”

“Oh, shut up… I'm having the best moment of my entire life,” Gabriel sighed, squeezing V1 tighter in his arms. A few more warnings popped up, but it disregarded them, as there was clearly no danger. 

“...I have concluded that thou hast contracted the flu.”

Its curiosity was piqued. The flu was a contagious respiratory illness affecting the nose, throat, and lungs… His symptoms seemed to match. Stuffy nose, tiredness, and headache? Check. Persistent cough and sore throat? Double check. After checking its data on human illnesses, it concluded that Minos was indeed correct.

Complications of the flu included pneumonia, bronchitis, ear infections, and death. It didn't want to think too much about those.

“Aw, fuck…” Gabriel’s helmet clanked against V1’s chassis as he attempted to bury his face in its chest, to no avail. “Don't you have anything to like… like heal me?”

“It doth not work like that, angel. What we can do is manage the symptoms,” Minos replied calmly, placing a soothing hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. It chose to ignore how the angel’s heart rate spiked.

“Ugh… Manage this headache for me, then.”

“Aspirin, ibuprofen, or paracetamol?”

“I think I've already used up all the ibuprofen we had, Minos…” Gabriel sounded… so weak. It wasn't comfortable seeing him in such a state, felled by a mere virus.

“...Oh dear. How art thy kidneys and stomach holding up? Any bleeding, chest or stomach pain, blurred vision, or difficulty breathing?”

“I’m fine..! It's-” Gabriel was interrupted by a short coughing fit. “It's not like I took five every day for… for like a year straight. Or everything all at once.”

“Hast thou tried-”

“Yes! I’ve tried every single one of your stupid suggestions, and not a single one has worked for longer than an hour..! I-I’m…” A sniffle came from Gabriel's direction, from which V1 deduced that he was about to cry. It shot Minos a brief glare. This sickness was clearly making the angel a little more fragile emotionally, and it didn’t need anyone making him feel any worse.

“...My apologies, angel. I did not intend for my words to come across as insensitive or hurtful,” Minos spoke softly.

“I’m… I’m sorry, I don't know why I’m-” Gabriel paused, clearing his throat in an attempt to sound less like he was crying. It... somewhat worked. Maybe. “-why I’m tearing up like this, I… I swear I’m not usually such a baby.”

“Oh, shush. There is no need for thee to apologise.”

Gabriel sniffled again. “B-but… We were having a regular conversation, and then I just… I just started crying. That’s not normal, is it..?”

“Well, considering the state thou art in, I would find it more concerning if thou didst not cry.”

“...Yes, yes. I won’t be doing that again.”

● ● ●

He was craving something, but he wasn’t quite sure what exactly. It wasn’t food, that much was certain, as his stomach felt like he’d recently swallowed liquid cement. Though that was what it usually felt like, anyway.

Gabriel rolled over in bed to observe his room. Minos had left to fetch some painkillers, while the machine was sat on the desk, tinkering on one of its arms without a care in the world. It seemed content, or as content as a thing made for killing everything in sight could ever be, coexisting peacefully with a disgraced angel and the man he’d killed. It’d strayed as far from its purpose as he had from his.

I think I’m… thirsty? This headache could be from dehydration, maybe.

With a pained groan, he got out of bed. Every single one of his joints hurt. He’d expected that anyway, so he pushed through it, making his way to his decimated door. 

…Yep, completely destroyed.

The second he got lightheaded and leaned against a wall for support, the machine rushed over. He didn't know what it was even trying to do. He was at least twice its height and thrice its weight, there was no way it could help him with staying upright, especially in this state.

“I’m alright, I was just… going to get a glass of water or something.”

The machine shook its head, and ushered him back towards the bed. He gripped the doorframe in order to stay right where he was.

“But… but machine, I… You don't have to treat me like an infant, I can take care of myself. I’m perfectly capable of doing things again.”

It didn't listen, prying his hand off of the doorframe finger by finger. It then gently pushed him in the direction of the bed. 

He didn't want to ‘take the hint’, but he couldn't fight the machine right now. It probably had a good reason for fussing over him like this. That thing and its superior brainpower, calculating how likely he was to break his neck if he were to fall down the stairs in such condition. His inferior brain deduced the likelihood to be around five percent.

“Fine…” Gabriel crawled back under the covers. Perhaps this feeling of being fine was only temporary, and the worst was yet to come.

…I don’t need them hovering around me like I’ll drop dead the second no one’s looking.

● ● ●

V1 was down in the cellar, trying its best to find a bottle of juice. Any kind would do. It checked a row of shelves, but all that those glass bottles contained was either wine, suspicious green sludge, or more wine but with a different shade. The second row of shelves was empty, all five shelves. It could guess what they once contained. 

Since the cellar didn’t have a single bottle of juice left, it decided to have a look around every closet and cupboard of the palace. Just to make sure.

With his condition having taken a turn for the worse again, Gabriel had wanted some warm juice to soothe his sore throat. It wasn’t going to return without some. It didn’t want to see him distraught again, as that could affect him even when he was no longer sick, possibly causing him to become hostile again. Hostile equaled unpredictable, which equaled him being inflicted with more emotional and physical damage, some of which it may be forced to cause. It didn’t want to be responsible for an another downward spiral of his.

The kitchen had no juice, nor did the pantry. Neither did that one minifridge tucked away in a closet in one of the guest rooms. V1 did not want to admit defeat, but it really did seem they were out of juice. It prepared itself for seeing him sob again.

Upon its return to the angel’s room, it observed Gabriel half asleep, purring as Minos gently stroked his wing. A tranquil scene which it’d soon have to destroy. When Minos looked over at it, it simply shook its head. It could pick up a quiet exhale coming from him in response.

“...Angel?” Minos spoke softly, rousing Gabriel from his peaceful state.

“Mh? I’m awake, I’m awake…” 

V1 braced itself for his reaction. It had tissues ready in a little storage compartment, two water bottles on the desk for rehydration, a nearly empty bag of strawberry candy, and four hands available for holding one distraught angel.

“Well… I regret to inform thee that we are all out of juice.”

Those words had an immediate effect on Gabriel’s whole vibe. He seemed to just… shrink, curling up in the bed and pulling the blankets over his head. After a moment of near-perfect silence, his hand appeared from under the blanket heap and grasped for Minos’, probably for emotional support.

It wasn’t quite sure if he was crying, but it brought a water bottle over nonetheless, since it was time for his bi-hourly V1-mandated sip of water anyway. It placed the bottle down on the floor next to the bed, and hesitated before placing two strawberry candies there too. He seemed to be sufficiently comforted already. That left it with ‘free time’, which it wasn’t quite sure how to spend. It could go out scavenging for useful things again, maybe pilfer some vegetables and fruit from those twenty or so survivors it’d found, or perhaps… Right, the juice. It could perhaps snatch some juice from them, too.

Without further ado, it opened the window and hopped out, landing with zero grace and no damage to its frame. It was immune to fall damage, after all. Like cats most of the time.

Having landed in a rose bush, it removed some branches stuck in its joints before continuing on its merry way. It’d downloaded a map of what the city used to look like a while back. Two maps actually, the second of which it used for marking important or interesting places, as JPEGs didn’t really allow for erasing markings once saved. Southwest-ish from the palace was the direction it headed.

Residential area number three, located behind a commercial district and some (now destroyed) office buildings. It couldn’t understand how anyone would want to sit behind a desk, staring at papers all day, even if this was Hell. Some people probably liked jobs that gave them back pain and headaches.

It made its way through the rubble with relative ease, vaulting over large chunks of concrete, launching itself off of walls and hopping from rooftop to rooftop. The buildings in the outskirts were mostly intact around here. That included a mall it spotted in the distance, which was almost calling to it, in a strange way. A little detour wouldn’t hurt, as locations like that were bound to have good loot.

Though with good loot came great danger. It barely dodged a thick metal bar falling from the ceiling, the edges of it razor sharp when plummeting at such speeds. That would’ve done for quick decapitation. Unfortunately for ‘fate’ or whatever, V1 was on a mission, and as such didn’t have time for death or injury.

Dashing through the mall, one particular store display caught its eye. There were several dresses and gowns, ranging from a black dress with thin golden chains everywhere to a somewhat translucent cobalt blue dress, sparkly bits making it look like the night sky. It reckoned Gabriel would like both of them. He did seem to prefer skirts, though, so it wandered into the abandoned shop to look for some. 

It was as if time had just frozen in the store. Beneath its feet was what seemed to be bamboo flooring, immaculate save for the thick layer of dust. Articles of clothing hung from racks and sat on shelves, normal non-murderous mannequins stood on pedestals, curtains in front of fitting rooms fluttered as a light breeze brushed past them. It’d never had the chance --or the need-- to visit a store before, so this was all quite fascinating. Though it supposed there should’ve been people here to make it feel more real.

At last, it found the section it’d been looking for. Well, somewhat, as these skirts were about knee-length, a bit longer than what he usually wore. Nonetheless, its gaze went to a cream-coloured skirt with small yellow flowers printed on it. He definitely wouldn’t wear this one, it reckoned.

It also considered an another skirt, a white one with a pattern of purple and pink lupines, and after a moment of pondering stuffed it into a bag it’d procured.

An aisle down were the skirts reaching maybe mid-thigh. These ones wouldn't get in his way when doing things, and would probably lead to V1 getting its optic kicked in if it happened to just randomly catch a peek. Well worth the risk though, if they made him happy. And he didn’t seem to actually mind, strangely enough. Perhaps he still considered it to be incapable of things such as ‘emotions’ and ‘caring for people’.

It spotted a rather nice-looking skirt on a mannequin. A normal mannequin, as it’d pulverised all the creepy ones ages ago. The skirt was of the fancier sort, a black skirt with pastel pink lace trim and a few bows, a strip of fabric of the same colour working as a belt. The colour didn’t fit Gabriel’s usual palette, but it could maybe work.

After violently dismantling the mannequin to get the skirt, it stuffed the item of clothing into the bag. He’d either like it or not. It wouldn’t get any hurt feelings if he decided to throw the skirt away, his happiness was what mattered for its long-term survival.

It stuffed a few plain black skirts into the bag as well, considering this the end of its impromptu shopping spree (not that this qualified as either shopping or a spree). Now, back onto the main mission. It was to snatch some food from the survivor camp about half a kilometre southwest from here, and if it couldn’t get the juice, it’d at least get enough fruit or berries to make some.

It’d reached the roof of the mall no more than a minute later. It could already spot its destination from here, smoke from campfires reaching for the sky a rather obvious sign of life. Once it zoomed in close enough, tiny silhouettes of people became clearer. Some working away in their vegetable gardens, some hanging out laundry to dry, some smaller ones running around with their kin. They were like ants. It guessed that to be the best comparison, as it’d never seen ants. Or maybe it’d never slowed down to look.

● ● ●

His heart felt like it was about to burst. Not literally, but due to the above average amount of conflicting emotions he felt, laying in bed with Minos sat on a seat next to him. Imagining an emotion wheel didn’t help with figuring them out either, as that only managed to further confuse him.

Gabriel was curled up under the covers, with Minos reading him a book at his request. He’d woken up from a fever-induced nightmare a while ago, in a cold sweat and --in all honesty-- scared shitless. As one usually is. And like any sensible person, he’d attempted to flee, but got tangled up in his bedsheets and hit the floor face-first. It definitely did not hurt, and he definitely did not break down sobbing because that incident was much more than he could handle at the moment. But he was fine now.

Being read a book like this, it was… the best word here would be ‘comforting’. Even if it kind of felt like he was a toddler being read a bedtime story. He did pretty much feel like a child, though. He probably acted like one.

…I’m fine. No one’s pointed anything out yet, so I think I’m doing fine.

The book was surprisingly normal. Just one of those group-goes-on-an-adventure books, with false gods, a dragon, weird rings, and so many names he couldn't keep track. It was a rather captivating tale, though.

However, his attention span was currently that of a squirrel, so after about ten minutes of listening he'd spaced out. The background noise made him feel at ease. He could almost doze off listening to Minos read, finding it difficult to keep his eyes open. But if he were to close his eyes, he'd fall asleep, and then he'd be free game for the nightmares again.

Wait… It’s way too peaceful in here.

He shot up in bed, eyes darting around the room. The machine wasn’t curled up next to him, or tinkering away at the desk, or… doing anything anywhere. How hadn’t he realised its absence until now? How long had it been gone for?

Where is it..?

Gabriel staggered to his feet, and headed for the door. He needed to find it. He had to, just to make sure it was okay, to make sure he hadn’t just hallucinated the past few months and that it was actually real. To make sure he himself hadn’t done something bad to it and forgotten about it. He had to make sure.

“Angel?”

Right, Minos was real. He was here, and he seemed to be okay. But the machine still wasn’t here.

“...Hm? It’s… it’s fine, I’m fine. I’ll be right back.” He wasn’t sure if what he’d just said even made sense, but Minos seemed to accept it, nodding in response.

With that, Gabriel made his way out. He didn't know where to start looking. Maybe the most used rooms first, those being the kitchen, lounges, and grand library. 

…Both lounges were empty, as was the kitchen. The contentedness he'd previously felt was quickly turning into despair, and he wasn't even sure why he was so attached to that thing, all he knew that he was and that he needed to just… Why did he really want to find it?

The grand library appeared vacant as well, the only sounds being that of a clock ticking, and his breathing. Torturous silence. He knew he shouldn't linger.

He checked Minos' bedroom too, but saw no sign of the machine. It was as if it'd just vanished into thin air.

…Did I kill it? Is that why I can't find it anywhere..? 

I… I wouldn't forget something like that, so no. I probably didn't. 

Before he knew it, he was out in the garden, gaze on the night sky. Leaves rustled in the wind, the cool breeze making him shiver. But he had to check the garden, too. 

His head was pounding again. It'd been gradual at first, just a slight feeling of pressure behind his eyes, which he stupidly ignored. His own comfort be damned, finding the machine took priority in his mind. 

He arrived at the gazebo, and as his legs were starting to hurt, he took a seat on one of the benches. He'd rest for just a moment. Just a few minutes, and then he'd maybe-

Oh, what was he going to do? Wander out into the ruins and die of pneumonia? The hell was that supposed to achieve..?

Was this whole search pointless? Was the machine actually dead and buried under his feet, or had it abandoned them? Was this a sign that he'd soon be completely alone again? He knew it was only a matter of time.

“...Where are you?” He could only manage a whisper, his throat feeling like he'd swallowed sandpaper. 

No response.

“I-I’m sorry if it's my fault somehow, I… I swear I didn't mean it…”

Neither the night sky nor the shadows replied. Of course they didn't, they loved displays of despair. 

His heart would not cease feeling like a million shards of glass in a plastic shopping bag, said shards tearing it to shreds with every slight movement.

“...Please. Please, please, please come back, I’ll be better, I promise,” he begged, as if it could hear him, as if it could witness his pathetic display.

Promises, promises, promises. He was very well known for making those. Piles upon piles of promises that he broke, or did not fulfil, suffocated him. Had he ever made a promise he could keep..?

What was he even talking about? Of course he was able to keep promises, he was… he was an angel, an archangel, a… a heretic, a mistake, a loser, a-

...Stop thinking, please just stop thinking..!

He buried his head --his helmet-- in his hands. Nothing could quite drown out the thoughts, unfortunately. It was like he was lost deep in a forest, armed with only a stick and flashlight, trying to ward off starving wolves that would not cease circling him. The stick would of course be as fragile as porcelain, decayed through and through due to fungi. The wolves would be as dark as the shadows they emerged from. Yellowed teeth would glint in the light, tongue hanging out, the wolves salivating at the mere thought of tearing him apart. That would be a merciful enough ending for him.

But he wasn’t in a forest, or being pursued by anything. He felt the metal of the helmet against his fingers, the clothing against his skin, the coolness of the air, and the ground under his feet. He heard his own breathing, someone’s footsteps, and the sound of blood rushing through his veins. He smelled the fresh air, and the familiar scent that always lingered in the palace. He tasted blood, having bitten his tongue moments before.

He felt a person walk over, and sit down next to him. He didn’t look, as looking over would make them real, and he wanted to believe he was currently by himself. Stars, he must’ve looked pathetic.

“...Gabriel.”

He knew he should look, there could be some kind of consequences if he didn’t. But he couldn’t.

“Wouldst thou be so kind as to look at me, angel?”

Oh, there again with that soft and understanding tone of voice being used for a request. Was it even a request, or just a demand? Was it an order..? He couldn’t possibly bear an another order, the previous one had ended in a fucking disaster, a dumpster fire even. The thing that got him down here in the first place.

No further words came for a while. He’d definitely made a mistake now, silence was never good. Silence was what preceded admonishment, preceded punishment, preceded anything and everything that hurt. Silence was what often came in the machine’s wake. This was different from that, though. He was shaking. Not shivering from the cold, but shaking. Trembling like a damn coward.

This… I bet he’d find it offensive that I’m thinking this poorly of him. He’s… he’s been nothing but kind to me, yet here I am, thinking he’d hurt me. That’s ridiculous.

But what if-

“...May I hold thee?”

Without even thinking, he nodded. He wanted --no, needed-- to be held right now, held like the stupid big baby he was. Oh, he truly was a pathetic trainwreck of an angel with the mental fortitude of a spaghetti noodle. 

…I deserve to be held. I’ve been going through a lot lately, I deserve it.  

He finally leaned against Minos, feeling arms wrap around him tightly. It was nice. The warmth washed away all of his woes in an instant, cleared the storm clouds in his mind, made him forget he'd ever worried about anything. 

“Oh, thou art burning up, angel,” Minos pointed out, one hand stroking the angel's wing. 

“Obviously, I’m still sick. I think.” 

He was purring now, but didn't care enough to be embarrassed. The world could listen to him purr all it wanted.

“Thou reckon?”

“Mh… yeah.” He looked up a little. “Am I?”

“I am afraid so.”

Hearing that, Gabriel let out a sigh, and snuggled up a little closer. “...Could you please carry me back indoors?”

“And why would that be?”

“I mean, look at me. I’m just a pathetic angel that is so sick…”

…He really didn't want to walk.

“Mhm.”

“And, and… Every cell in my body is in excruciating pain, Minos, and I might just explode if I feel any more of it…”

There was a long moment of silence between them, before Minos finally sighed. “Fine… I suppose I must aid the damsel in distress, if he so politely asks.”

…Success. 

● ● ●

The sun had set, giving it near-perfect cover to stalk the camp's perimeter. Someone had to have left a window or backdoor open so it could slip in and out unnoticed. There weren't that many enemies around here, someone was bound to become a little lax about locking doors. 

Most of the people were outside, gathered around a fire in the middle of the camp, and it could hear them conversing happily, an occasional burst of laughter breaking out. It seemed that one of the older ones was telling a tale from their youth, from centuries if not millennia ago. Figuring out the time each of these people once lived in wasn't easy. 

It spotted an open window on the third floor of an occupied building. The window was on the outer side, so it being open was most peculiar indeed. Nearly all of the windows on this side were boarded up, mainly for safety, so this was very suspicious. Like a trap. Or maybe an invitation?

Scaling up the side of the building, it peeked inside. Just a normal bedroom, though a bit more on the personalised side with drawings, old posters and even older postcards plastering the walls. Either someone had a really strange taste in decoration or was just stuck in the past.

The room was lit by a small candle sat on a nightstand. Next to it, on the bed, appeared to be a person reading a book, most likely struggling with it due to the dim lighting. Was this a common human activity? It recalled Gabriel always reading before bed, though he wasn't human so it didn't count. Minos, he was --as Gabriel once so politely put it-- a nerd, and as such read a lot too. V1 doubted many would regard him as a human anymore, so he too was out. 

The person, hearing rattling, glanced towards the window. They spotted it nigh immediately, and let out a sigh.

“Oh, great… An another one of these damn rats,” they muttered as they grabbed a broomstick and walked over. 

It took great effort for it to not kill the person when they whacked it with the aforementioned broomstick. Murder wasn't an option, so it crawled just out of their reach, much to their dismay.

“Get back here, or scram. There's nothing for you here.” 

V1 tried to recall the best way to calm someone down quickly. Soothing words wouldn't do as it still lacked a voice module, nor would a hug as they weren't an acquaintance of its. 

…Gifts. Gifts were bound to make a person happy. Gabriel seemed to like it when it brought gifts like clothing or ingredients, the former turning him into a stuttering mess when the clothes actually fit. Unbeknownst to him, it'd memorised his clothing sizes, and even took a few measurements when he was asleep. 

It pulled out the skirt that had the lupine print, and offered it to the person. Their expression changed to that of surprise, or what it assumed to be surprise, as it hadn't seen a human with their face intact in ages.

“...Excuse me?”

It placed a finger to its ‘face’, gesturing for the person to stay quiet. It then brought the gift a little closer to them.

“What is it you’re trying to do here, exactly? Are you brib-”

V1 was starting to get frustrated. It made the ‘stay quiet’ gesture again, and just threw the gift at the person, before hopping back down to the ground and continuing its mission. Befriending this person appeared to be a waste of its time, as much as it would’ve wanted to make ‘friends’.

A few minutes later it located a cellar that was partially underground. There was a door that’d clearly been busted in a couple times --as it’d been repaired with a dozen wooden planks-- and a flimsy lock. Nothing a little brute force couldn’t fix, it thought. There was however a slight obstacle in the way, said obstacle being that the entrance to the cellar was guarded. 

…This was getting more and more difficult by the minute, especially with the no-spilling-blood rule it’d made for itself. Maybe it could get in and out even if it was spotted and pursued? It’d just go through the ceiling (and layer of dirt) if they decided to trap it in, or-

It decided to just go for it. What was the worst thing that could happen, somebody dying by its hand once more? One death wouldn’t doom the rest of the group. Hypothetically, at least.

V1 rushed forward, pushed the guard aside, and went right through the door. A cacophony of yelling erupted outside, but it ignored the noise as it sprinted down the cracked concrete steps. All it had to do was get some juice. Get in, grab a bottle, get out. This was probably the simplest, most straightforward mission it'd ever been on, and it wouldn't fail. 

Down in the cellar were a few shelves lining the walls, stocked with all kinds of sacks, jars, and bottles, all in neat rows. It proceeded to grab two small sacks and a random bottle of red liquid that looked like juice, and prepared to leave. These would do for the time being. Perhaps it'd come back for more stuff later, seeing how easy to access this place was. These people wouldn’t mind, they had the ability to just grow more food whenever they wanted, they wouldn’t miss a few bits here and there.

…The entrance was blocked. There were at least three people blocking the narrow stairway, each one armed. They were saying something, yelling something, but it ignored them, instead attempting to formulate an escape plan. If they moved out of the stairway, it could just dash past them and get out. If two approached and one stayed to guard the door… Or if one approached and two stayed back-

Too late. Taking a step back, its back immediately hit the wall. There were more than three people approaching it, rapidly, leaving no opportunity for escape or even an attempt at one. Well, without killing them, anyway. If it were to just ignore that silly little rule, it’d come out of this completely unharmed, with at least twenty new enemies and a bottle of juice that’d make Gabriel very happy.

It could calculate the right course of action in the next ten seconds, probably.

● ● ●

Maybe he should’ve felt embarrassed. Ashamed, mortified even, but he didn’t. He somehow wasn’t afraid to admit that he loved being held like this, coddled and cared for as if his wellbeing mattered to somebody. Tended to, with somebody asking if he was alright after each cough or sneeze, fetching him the things needed to make this suffering more bearable. Watched over when he slept, comforted when he awoke from nightmares. It was… so nice.

…Actually, nevermind. This is so embarrassing, I want to just burrow into the ground and never come back up.

He let go of Minos’ hand --which he’d been holding ever since they came back indoors-- and rolled over in bed. Minos was still reading that one book to him. Or was it the second book in the trilogy already? It didn’t really matter anyway, it’d be read by the time he was back on his feet. 

The time was getting closer to one in the morning, yet he wasn’t tired. Well, he was tired, just not tired enough to fall asleep. He’d slept plenty already, and was feeling rather clear-headed for a change, so he chose to stay awake. Perhaps he could use this time to think. Or talk.

“...Minos?” Gabriel muttered, rolling back over again. It wasn’t polite to talk to someone without at least looking in their general direction, he reckoned.

“Yes?”

“Do you know when it’ll be… when the machine will be back?” He didn’t want to come off as clingy, but he probably did. “It’s been at least three hours, shouldn’t it be back by now..?”

Minos pondered the question for a moment, before answering, “I… do not know, but I assure thee, it will return by morning.”

“But-”

“And if it hath not, we shall go looking for it once thou hast recovered from thine ailment.”

He didn’t want to argue against that answer, but he couldn’t help worrying. Sure, the machine was perfectly capable of surviving out there --more so than he was-- but what if danger had caught it off-guard? What if it was currently somewhere crushed under tons of concrete, or laying in two neat pieces after a sharp-edged sheet of metal from above cut it in half? What if one of those pieces was attempting to crawl back-

“...Breathe, angel.” Minos had clearly noticed his distress, and attempted to soothe him. Like any good person should. “Consider all of the nice things it might be discovering out there.”

“Yes, but… I’m worried. Really, really, really worried.”

“If it is of any comfort to thee, I also worry.” 

“...You do?”

Who wouldn’t.

“I worry whenever thou art gone, yet thou return in one piece every time, making me feel quite silly for worrying at all.”

It was nice to be considered worthy of occupying someone else's brain, even if that was just in the form of worried thoughts. Causing a headache and making them lose years off of their lifespan. He didn't even have to pay rent in there.

“I’ll… try to not freak out, then,” Gabriel chuckled a little, even though doing so hurt his throat quite a lot.

“Then… Shall we continue this book?”

“...Yes, please.”

● ● ●

It'd never been one for having any opinion on rain, but right now the downpour was like a blessing from Hell itself, washing the teeny tiny bits of flesh that'd stuck to its plating. The rain also helped it cool down, which was neat.

…It hadn't meant to blow up a person. It'd just wanted them off of it, away from the things that it took, things that they clearly didn't need. It needed those things. So, it'd unloaded its entire arsenal into the most threatening-looking person, basically shredding their body to nothing as their backup watched in what it assumed to be terror. It wasn't even worth it. Their blood tasted awful, and nearly clogged up a filter.

After a four-hour long trip, it was ready to power down for a bit, in order to sort information and clear its cache. It didn’t have to do that, but it was easier to sort a bit of stuff frequently than a lot of stuff once in a blue moon. Maybe it’d go scrap-gathering after that.

It climbed up the palace wall, a soaking wet bag clutched tightly in its hands. At least the items were safe. A couple skirts, a few bags of something, a bottle of juice. All of this was bound to make Gabriel happy.

V1 peeked in through the window. Both Gabriel and Minos appeared to be asleep, though it wasn't really easy to tell, for obvious reasons. It could only assume from their behaviour and surroundings. The lights were off, Minos was slumped in his seat with an open book on his lap, Gabriel was curled up under only two blankets. One of the angel’s hands was peeking out from under the covers, and loosely grasping Minos’. The closest term it could find to describe this was ‘adorable’.

…It snapped a picture, and then knocked on the window. As ‘cute’ as the scene was, V1 wanted in right now, preferably not by breaking anything. Gabriel would be sad if it broke more things.

Gabriel jolted awake. V1 observed him first gently let go of Minos’ hand, careful not to wake him up, before making his way to the window. He stumbled a few times, but seemed to already be doing much better. Was this juice worth all the effort when he's almost healed already? Probably not, but at least they now had juice. For what? Who knows.

Once it finally got back indoors, Gabriel pulled it into a tight embrace. V1 would've been suffocating if it had the need to breathe. 

“What took you so long..?” Gabriel spoke quietly, sounding much less congested now. That was a good thing, maybe.

Cursed/blessed with the inability to communicate through speech, V1 just shrugged. It figured he’d be better off not knowing the atrocities it’d committed once more. This meant he wouldn’t freak out and kick it to the curb, an event which everyone already knew would greatly hinder its access to a thing called ‘continuing to exist’.

“...Right. I’ll pretend I understood whatever you meant by that.”

The angel was beginning to lean rather heavily against V1. It didn’t mind too much, but it reckoned it would be very bad for his back if he fell asleep right there. So, it gently pried Gabriel off of itself, and shoved its bag into his hands. Gifts.

“Huh..? Oh, you actually found something?” 

It nodded enthusiastically. It had indeed found something, many things in fact.

“Let’s see, then…” Gabriel sat down right there on the floor, and began looking through the contents of the bag. Two bags of unknown ingredients, a couple regular blacks skirts, that fancier black skirt with pastel pink lace and bows. He tossed the fancy skirt to V1.

“Don’t even think about it, machine, or you’ll be the one wearing it.”

It tilted its head. He was sometimes swayed by a slight tilt of the head, emphasis on sometimes.

“...No. Also I’m still not ‘trying on’ the maid dress you brought back last time, as much as you’d love that sight.” It was rather easy to tell he was smiling from his tone of voice.

After shifting through the normal skirts to check their condition, Gabriel finally discovered the bottle of juice. He looked at it for a long while, trying to figure out what liquid the bottle contained by sight alone, as it wasn’t labelled.

“You… You went out of your way to get me a bottle of juice?” Gabriel muttered. “Why? I just said that on a whim, you didn’t have to scour the entire layer for it.”

V1 crouched down next to him, and poked his helmet. He asked, and thus he received. What more was there to it?

“...Thank you, machine.”

Chapter Text

Today was (almost) the day. The machine had given him a month to confess his feelings, and today was the second-to-last day of said time limit. He'd spent the past week brainstorming ideas, trying to figure out something that wasn't too over-the-top but not too boring either, throwing each idea into the shredder after a moment of consideration. Each idea was utterly useless. They either required too many resources, took too much time, or were generally too extravagant. He didn't want to come on too strong. 

The other extreme wasn't good either. If it was too boring, it'd seem like he actually wasn't interested at all. Like he was just doing it for a bet, or out of sheer boredom, or-

Gh… How did humans ever figure these things out? The ‘art of seduction’ is a fucking minefield.

One of the few ideas that stuck around was that of a candlelit dinner. As sappy as it sounded, a dinner didn't seem half-bad. He'd already planned the menu, checked that they had all the required ingredients, thoroughly cleaned the dining hall, polished the candelabras… He'd prepared everything for an idea he wasn't even sure if he was going to execute. 

Gabriel was sat at the desk in his room, going over his to-do list and adding some more things to do. The machine was sprawled out on the bed behind him, listening to his ramblings and heavy sighs with utmost patience, sometimes offering actually useful answers to questions. What colour should the tablecloth be? Crimson. Should he clean the dining hall again, just in case? No, that’d take up precious time. Was he allowed to pick some flowers from the garden? If he was, which ones would be the best? Would he even-

“...Machine?” Gabriel leaned back in his seat. The seat was rather uncomfortable, but he couldn’t be bothered to find cushions for it.

The machine’s head perked up a bit, indicating that it was still listening.

“I know this may sound a little stupid, but… Do you happen to know anything about flowers?” He continued, “Specifically the language of flowers. Do you have any information regarding that?”

It wrote its response down on a piece of paper, which he'd given it so they could communicate better. Once done, it showed him the paper.

*“Overthinker.”

“I’m well aware, thank you very much. I just don't want to accidentally have flowers that say ‘I wish you were dead’ or something, you know? And red roses would be way too-” 

*“Red carnations / chrysanthemums. Pink if red is not available.”

“Oh, um… Duh,” he muttered, before lowering his voice a little. “...What does a carnation look like, again?”

*“Carnations look like pencil shavings.”

“Pencil shavings..?”

*“Yes.”

Flowers that look like pencil shavings, very romantic. Not that it has to be that romantic. I’d just make him uncomfortable, I think.

…Why does it know what pencil shavings are?

“So… chrysanthemums it is, then,” Gabriel sighed, turning back to his notes. He still had time to figure things out.

● ● ●

A chunk of concrete crashed against the wall of a crumbling building, again. Gabriel was out in the ruins once more, taking his frustration out on the concrete, with V1 observing from the side. And honestly? It quite liked listening to him ramble about his worries while breaking things. This must’ve been like what humans called ‘therapy’.

“-and if he reciprocates, what am I supposed to do then? I don’t even know what people do in a relationship..!” Gabriel threw a basketball-sized lump of concrete into a slab, the lump breaking in half upon impact.

Right, right. He was still worried about that, even though he’d read several books on it an hour ago. Two guides for dating that were for teenage girls, one erotic novella, and three pages of some really smutty fanfiction in size 12 font that a terminal had spat out at V1 the other day. The most surprising part was that he'd then asked it to please find the rest of the fanfiction. For research purposes, obviously.

“Isn’t it just holding hands, sleeping in the same bed, and saying ‘I love you’ first thing every morning?” Gabriel let out an exasperated sigh, and turned to V1 for its reaction. “...Or is that too cliché?”

It shrugged. This really wasn't its area of expertise, so it wasn't of much help. It could only simulate what ‘love’ felt like, and even that was too much for its processors. Way too many ‘feelings’ to keep track of.

“Oh, and what if he wants more than that? What if he wants to, um… y'know, get more physical? What would I even say to that..?” Even the thought seemed to make him shudder, and not in a good way. 

His repulsion toward such matters was to be expected, it reckoned. It may have been from his lack of exposure to things like that, or from whatever he'd been taught way back when. Or maybe he just didn't experience that kind of attraction, who knows.

“I know… I know I’m thinking way too far ahead. But if I get on this ride, I may not be able to get off of it until it crashes into a brick wall.”

It stared at him, unblinking. That was a ridiculous comparison. Of course he'd be able to get off of the ‘ride’ if things came to that, he had the ability to talk about things, to illustrate how he felt by using words. And Minos was a good listener, probably.

“…He’d be a fucking moron to reciprocate, anyway. Falling in love with the thing that murdered him without a second thought, who barely even thought about him for several decades as he just sat there, helpless and alone, and…” 

There was something wrong with him, but it didn't know whether to comfort him or to just stay a safe distance away. He was unpredictable like this. 

“And… and… I don’t know..! I can’t deal with this, machine. I just can’t. You know I can't.” Gabriel slumped down next to the piece of concrete V1 was perched on, letting out a groan of utter despair that almost bordered on a whimper.

It patted the top of his helmet lightly a few times. He only scoffed, muttering something (most likely a dozen cuss words) under his breath.

“...Don't patronise me, tin can. You don't know how it feels.”

That much was true. It really didn't, but it could guess. Like making a path to bypass an error instead of fixing it, perhaps. Building a tunnel through a hill instead of going around it.

…That last bit wasn't quite right.

“Am I really even ‘in love’?” Gabriel preened his wing absentmindedly. “Is it supposed to feel different from how one would love a friend, a pet, or a good book?”

Was it supposed to feel different? It'd assumed ‘love’ was just the feeling of attachment when two beings spent a lot of time together, finding the other to be almost necessary to their own survival. Either physical or emotional, it didn't matter that much.

“I figured.” Gabriel plucked out an electric blue feather, twirling it between two fingers. “...Anyway. How do you think Minos would cope if I left right now, just for a bit?”

V1 shook its head, and grabbed his arm. There was no way it'd let him leave again. He was needed here, for fuel, for company, for… many other things. He wasn't allowed to leave.

“Would he hate me more than he already does?” 

‘He does not hate you’ was what it would've said if it could. It doubted he'd listen, but trying never hurt anyone.

“Mh… Would you hate me?” Gabriel plucked out a few more feathers. “I mean, I know you probably don't have feelings per se, but if you did, would you hate me?”

It shook its head again, more vigorously this time. He was quite clearly spiraling, which would lead to more misery, which would lead to him actually leaving again. Selfishly. Not that it wasn't selfish, too, for wanting to keep him around.

“You wouldn't? That's… good.”

He sounded like he'd expected a different answer. Something that would force him to stay, if only for a day or a week longer. 

After a moment of simply sitting there and brooding, Gabriel got up, stretching a little. It paid particular attention to his wings. They'd been getting more and more sparse in the past week, quite clearly due to the stress V1 had put on him. It couldn't comprehend why he'd worry so much over such minuscule things. If he happened to fuck up, then so what? He could just fix it, and it'd gladly help.

“Should we go back, then?”

Gabriel was attempting to sound happy despite everything. It tilted its head, optic practically burning a hole through him.

“...Hm? I won't actually leave, I was just… let us call it ‘daydreaming’. You can calm down now.” Gabriel shook the arm which V1 was clinging to. It didn't budge, practically glued in place. 

It wouldn't let him out of its sight for even a millisecond now.

● ● ●

He hadn't said ‘I promise’, so this didn't actually count as breaking a promise. Besides, they'd understand. They were probably used to this by now.

Gabriel was in the process of packing his bag. So far there were a few sets of clothes, both Justice and Splendor in their scabbards, the gloves he had to wear these days in order to wield said blades, the book Minos had read to him when he was sick, and two packets of mixed flowers seeds. He could maybe start a little garden to pass the time out there.

He began feeling a bit better about this plan, about running off permanently. It was about time he live on his own, he couldn't just spend the rest of eternity depending on somebody else, especially someone he should've been indebted to. He'd be fine on his own.

Besides, they could visit him in his new place if and when he felt ready. It could take weeks, months, maybe even years, but being alone would eventually become unbearable, and he’d be forced to admit he needed them. Or maybe he’d finally go insane, all by his lonesome. That was the only kind of redemption he deserved, really.

…Two blankets, several packs of painkillers, and a few rolls of bandages. Good. 

He’d need a pillow, maybe. Not so much for sleeping on, but for hugging it if he were to sleep. If he could even fall asleep out there.

His heart practically jumped into his throat when the door behind him slammed open, signalling the arrival of the machine. Of course it had to show up now…

Gabriel spun around, and greeted the machine with an awkward chuckle. “O-oh, hey, uhm… Don't freak out, please.”

The machine peered behind him, taking note of the packed bag, before turning its gaze right where a person would normally assume his eyes to be. It seemed… disappointed? Like it'd expected him to do this despite his promise that he wouldn't. 

“Okay, listen. I know I said that I wouldn't leave, but I just… It feels like the best choice for me right now, you know?” 

It crossed its arms, clearly not convinced of that being the only reason for his departure.

“It's not your fault, alright? If anything, it's probably mine,” he continued. “...You can maybe tell I’m not exactly the best person to be around these days.”

Its gaze did not falter, but his did. He couldn't bear looking at it in the eye.

...Please, care less about me.

As Gabriel slung the bag over his shoulder, the machine grabbed ahold of his arm, tightly. It obviously wanted him to stay. 

“...No, machine. You stay back. If I find out something's happened to, um… him when I return, it'll be your fault.” He pried the machine off of him. “So just be a darling and keep an eye on him. I’ll be back soon enough.”

● ● ●

…It’d looked so miserable when he left. He had expected that, but the hurt in its gaze stung nonetheless. This was for the best.

Gabriel was all the way in Greed now. He’d attempted to walk through the layer at first, but the golden sand had burned through the soles of his shoes within minutes of him setting foot there, and thus he had to fly. The risk of getting spotted by anyone --if there even was anyone here-- was higher this way, but it was a risk he had to take. He stayed far away from any buildings just in case.

…I can do this, I’m halfway there already.

His head throbbed as he spat out sand from his mouth, only for more of it to find its way in. He almost felt as if he was on fire from the way the sun scorched his skin, like each layer of flesh was being sanded away one after the other, continuously.

The slight breeze as he flew was a welcome relief from the heat, though it did little to help with the dull ache in his wings, or the feeling of each stroke growing heavier than the last. He knew he needed to take a little rest to recover his energy, but not here. He could rest when he got to Wrath.

Just… a little more. A little longer.

Before he knew it, he was sprawled out on the burning hot ground with sand in his eyes and small scrapes on his palms, muttering expletives under his breath. Typical. He had considered taking a rest before entering Greed, but no, he just had to push himself further than he could go. And now what? He'd dropped out of the sky like an idiot.

At least no one's watching me. They'd pounce on an opportunity like this.

Gabriel staggered to his feet, and continued moving. If he couldn't fly, he would walk. If he couldn't walk, he would crawl. And if he couldn't crawl? He'd die. But for now, he was alright.

A large structure loomed in the distance to his left. Its silhouette was barely visible through the sand that the wind had kicked up, standing there despite the many years it’d most likely stood unoccupied. He half-hoped it was occupied now, because at least he'd know where… he was. You know, one of the other people he'd brutally murdered. 

Even thinking his name would probably summon him, and I’m not ready for that yet. Ever.

…I thought the same about Minos, once upon a time.

Minutes passed, the expanse of golden sand seemingly never-ending as he moved forth. He did, however, spot a figure, simply standing by the large structure mentioned before. Thank goodness he was far away enough for the figure to look like a tiny ant in the distance. 

…And though he couldn't tell whether he was seeing a real person or just hallucinating from exhaustion, the mirage persisted. If they saw him, why didn't they approach? He was a recognisable figure, surely someone would come and exact their revenge when he was at his weakest, trudging through several million swimming pools’ worth of sand.

I think I see it. The… the exit of this stupid layer. Or the entrance to Wrath, whichever way one would want to put it.

Gabriel held the bag tighter against his chest, as if cradling something fragile. It would do no good to lose it out here. Heresy was notoriously lacking in the ‘comfort’ department, and thus bringing his own things was a vital part of remaining sane. 

He was already thinking of a place where he should set up camp. Perhaps near that spot where he got his ass kicked the second time, but in some smaller room that didn’t have a damn lake in the middle. Well, it was just an inch or two of water(?), but it’d get on his nerves eventually. Maybe he’d have some fucked up dream again and wake up having rolled down the stairs.

…Wonder how I’d feel after hitting my head on like twenty-three steps. A little concussion never hurt anyone.

At long last, he arrived in Wrath, practically collapsing on the cold stone as raging waves crashed against the pier. It… it was nice. Just laying there felt really nice after hauling his ass through a desert. 

After a moment, he pried himself off of the ground, as resting outside simply wouldn't do. The two wooden buildings a short distance away seemed promising. He recalled the larger one being the Ferryman’s, though they no longer resided there. The ferry felt more like home, they'd said. Even if it sunk every now and then.

● ● ●

Cold seeped into his bones, no matter how tightly he wrapped his wings around himself. He’d been in this situation before. The winds of Lust were nothing in comparison to those of Wrath, however, and thus the things that could warm him up were useless here. No amount of warmth would be enough.

There was no way he could fly with his wings this stiff and numb from the cold, he’d only end up diving headfirst into Ocean Styx. This smaller building wasn’t heated, but… perhaps the Ferryman’s old residence would be? Though why would it be, if it was supposedly unoccupied? At least it had a fireplace --unlike this heap of planks called a ‘shed’-- which he could light. They wouldn’t mind.

…Get up. You’ll reach it in like a minute, Gabriel, it’s not that far away. You can handle the cold for a minute.

Sometimes thinking of his self and his body as two separate entities helped. His body, it was just some stubborn child that always found an excuse to not do something, like ‘oh my back hurts’ or ‘woe is me, my head hurts’. 

Oh, his body… Sometimes it felt like it was silently screaming at him, sometimes begging, for him to put an end to this all. Why bother struggling to stay alive when most would’ve been happier knowing he was six feet under? Why bother, when he himself would’ve been happier that way..?

A quitter. Was that what he was these days? Just a quitter, flopping down onto the floor like a damn flounder when hardship arose? He used to be better. He used to be able to… just do things, and receive happiness from doing said things. Now even thinking about most things took up all his energy. Now that he had no lines to repeat, he had to worry about the right and wrong things to say, which also took up energy. Planning conversations hours if not days in advance was normal, right?

Despite feeling like throwing himself into the ocean, Gabriel made his way to the larger residence. He found himself in a rather large room, with tall windows on both ends and two glass cases, the cases taking up most of the floorspace. The dim room was lit by several candles and torches, and a life-sized statue stood in front of one of the windows, depicting Gabriel himself in his prime.

…No wonder they admired me so. Hell, they're probably still clinging onto that image of me, even though I’m now barely half of what I was.

On the other side of the room were chunks of marble. Most seemed to have been half-finished, abandoned halfway through due to a mistake or a flaw, a crack or a fracture. Most seemed to be of him, though there were a few birds and more abstract shapes.

He made his way down a hallway, and glanced out of the window at the infinite ocean. The waves were still just as violent, crashing against the windows so hard they rattled, over and over. It was a miracle they didn't shatter.

He discovered a fireplace in the next room over. It was unlit, but there was a stack of seemingly dry firewood next to it, almost tempting him to just make a fire and warm himself up.

Oh, thank G- 

It's not like He can hear me anymore, so… Oh, thank whoever got this firewood here and stacked it so neatly, and who’s letting me selfishly use it to warm myself up.

…Nope. That sounds wrong too.

A while later, after surviving a bout of nausea and dizziness caused by summoning a flame to light the fireplace, Gabriel slumped down by the stairs. Perhaps he’d just… take a little nap. He obviously couldn’t go anywhere when his limbs felt like overcooked spaghetti, he’d probably crumple up and perish if hit by gust of wind. So, he pulled out the blankets from his bag and curled up a safe distance away from the fireplace. This place was safe enough.

● ● ●

Gabriel awoke to a presence by his side, though there may have been no one there. Maybe he was just imagining things in his half-awake state. The fire crackled, and wind howled outside, yet he was perfectly content right there. He hadn’t even had a nightmare this time, surprisingly enough.

Savouring the last remnants of sleep, he lay there, eyes closed, soaking in the warmth surrounding him. It was just perfect. Curled up under three blankets-

Three..? 

He shot up, hand instinctively scrambling for Justice and Splendor. The hilt burned his hand as he grabbed it. The feeling was comparable to shoving his hand into a scalding hot bath, if the scalding hot bath was an active volcano and also supposed to be an extension of him. Nonetheless, he aimed Splendor at this unwanted intruder.

…Oh, damn. Shit.

It was the Ferryman, very much looking like he’d scared them shitless with his little stunt. Of course he just had to ruin this, too. They'd never look at him the same again, he was sure. They must hate him. They had to.

“Ah, um… I apologise if I startled you, sire,” the Ferryman said, voice wavering only a little.

“...That you did.” 

Gabriel put Splendor back into his bag, right next to Justice. He really should refrain from separating them. If he was going to burn his palms, the least he could do was to do it symmetrically. For the aesthetic.

“If I may ask, what brings you here, sire? I do not recall receiving any notice of your arrival.”

I think I should lie, I really do. I don't want them worrying about me any more than they already are…

“Well, you see… I was starting to develop a bit of cabin fever or something like that, so I decided to just take a little stroll outside, and… ended up here, y'know?”

…Nailed it.

The Ferryman stayed silent for a moment, before responding. “That is a thinly veiled lie, I’m aware, but I will not pry.”

Those words, somehow, made his heart ache. Oh, great… Was he going to cry now? Cry like the stupid baby he was when somebody was even a little nice to him? Was that how far he'd fallen..?

“I… think I’ll go now.” Gabriel got to his feet, stuffed his blankets into his bag and tossed it over his shoulder, heading for the door.

“W-wait, wait..!” The Ferryman grabbed his arm, which was a rather forward gesture considering it was them doing it. Maybe they saw him as a friend instead of some deity now?

That’s just wishful thinking, probably.

“...What is it?”

“Would you like to, uhm… come over and maybe have some tea, sire? Or… or I could cook something if you're hungry.”

Oh… They're lonely. Makes sense.

He hesitated. Sure, he really wanted to haul ass out of this layer and get to Heresy already, where he could suffer in solitude, and maybe end up doing something really stupid and irreversible if he got desperate enough, but… They wished to be around him right now, he couldn’t possibly run off now. They’d end up thinking it’s their fault that he hurtled himself deeper into Hell.

“...I would like that, yes.”

Chapter Text

Gabriel was sat at a round table. Behind him was a bar counter, beneath his feet an ocean blue carpet, and opposite of him sat the Ferryman. The spacious room was rather dimly lit since there were no windows, but he didn’t mind. A candle in the middle of the table lit up all the things he needed to see.

They'd given him what people called a ‘silly straw’ to drink his tea with, as they were very well aware he would not remove his helmet for anything. How considerate.

…The tea tasted like a damp rag soaked in apple juice. It wasn’t their fault, they probably didn’t have anything other than bagged tea, so he wasn’t going to complain. As such, he forced down an another sip of tea.

He could feel the Ferryman’s gaze burning into him, so he forced down some more tea. That was what they wanted, right? They hadn’t even made any tea for themselves, content with just observing him. 

They wouldn't be able to drink tea, anyway.

Well, actually… They could probably drink it, but it’d have nowhere to go.

“Sire, you… you do not have to force yourself if it isn’t to your liking.” The Ferryman paused for several seconds. “I won’t mind.”

“...Was I that obvious?”

“Ah, not really. But I just assumed, since you were hesitating greatly before taking a second sip.” The Ferryman let out a slightly nervous chuckle, fidgeting with their cloth. “...I apologise if I stepped out of line.”

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s fine.”

Silence then fell over the room once more. Despite his clear dislike for the tea, Gabriel took an another sip. It’d been made with love, that much was obvious, and as such he couldn’t simply let it go to waste. It would make them happy, maybe. Or very concerned.

The ship tilted a little more than usual. Probably a particularly strong wave, seeking to bring down anything that still dared to float. He would be very easy prey to those waves, he reckoned, if they were to bust a hole through the hull. He wouldn’t fight, he wouldn’t scream. Maybe. The Ferryman would definitely try to rescue him, and just get dragged down to the depths with him, no matter how hard they’d try. It’d be his fault.

…They should hate him, yet they didn’t. It was quite absurd, really. Almost as if he wasn’t deserving of all the hatred he’d assumed he was.

That’s ridiculous. They have to hate me. If they don’t already, I’ll have to make them, because… because it’s what’s supposed to happen. It’s what’s right, it’s-

“Are you okay, sire?” 

The Ferryman’s words snapped him out of his spiral. His ridiculous, selfish spiral. The whole damn world didn’t revolve around him! Not everyone was as preoccupied with him and his fuck-ups as he was.

“I’m… I just…” Gabriel began, before shaking his head to hopefully make his thoughts make more sense. “I’m really sorry, I don’t know how to respond to that without lying.”

“That's alright, I understand.” 

Do you? Do you, really? I find myself thinking you don't, even if all the signs say otherwise.

He really wanted to get up and leave already, to finally lock himself up in Heresy so he wouldn't ruin the life of anybody else. Though… he should drag himself down to Treachery, at least then he'd be where he truly belonged. 

…Aw, cheer up. It's nice here. It's warm, far away from Lust, and there's a person to talk to if I get lonely. This beats Heresy by a mile. Oh, and there’s a lower risk of me doing something really silly and whimsical, such as k-

“Hey, uhm, Charon… Would you mind if I were to stay here for the time being? I… I know it's a bit sudden, and…” He barely managed to choke out the words. His body clearly wanted to go off and perish, as did he.

“Oh, yes! That would be lovely-” The Ferryman sounded a bit too excited and eager to let him stay. “I-I mean… I would not mind. You may stay if you wish.”

That was a… very quick response. He would’ve expected them to at least think about it first, not just agree immediately. Were they saying that just to appease him, just to keep him around so they would never be alone again?

“...Are you sure? I don’t want to make you feel like you have to let me stay in order to keep us on good terms, I’m not that petty, but…”

“I’m positive, sire.”

Oh, stars… Stop being so nice..! It’s making me feel terrible for assuming the worst.

● ● ●

Gabriel wasn’t quite sure how long he’d been sitting there for, on that dark blue carpet, simply gazing up at the hologram of himself that kept repeating the same words over and over again. He could probably recite those lines in his sleep by now. 

At first, he'd been caught pretty off-guard by it when he randomly wandered into the room, that feeling then quickly turning into slight annoyance when he’d noticed it was just looping the same lines. After five minutes, it'd turned into some rather pleasant background noise. He could just sit there and zone out, without any small noise snapping him out of it, listening to himself speak in a tone he rarely ever used anymore. Mustering more than an ounce of softness was exhausting. 

…It was like he was trying to absorb the essence of what he used to be. He’d been devoted, kind, and unburdened by thoughts of his own. Nothing like what he was now. A scared good-for-nothing full of hate, aimed at both himself and the world. He knew that holding onto hatred would do no good to him, he’d just grow bitter and drive everyone else off, but he couldn’t help himself. It was the only feeling that made sense anymore. 

‘Love’... hmph. Just another word that some pretend to be synonymous with ‘lust’. It’s simply an excuse for wanton lechery, for sickening acts I dare not even imagine. To think that I suspected myself of being ‘in love’...

…Oh, right. I was supposed to be nicer. But what can I do when the mere thought makes me want to shove my head into a burning fireplace?

Gabriel wished he had an excuse for behaving so horribly. Making those two feel like they were a bother to him, like he loathed being around them. Leaving them without a word, not even respecting them enough to leave a note. Being too much a coward to face them anymore.

“...Sire?”

He nearly jumped out of his skin, not expecting the Ferryman's sudden appearance. Had he been wallowing that deep in his misery, or had the hologram’s words drowned out all other sound? Perhaps both were true.

“Please, just ‘Gabriel’ is fine,” he sighed, his puffed up wings betraying his surprise. Curse those treacherous feathers…

“Ah, right, right. My apologies.”

The Ferryman then moved over to the hologram, and after a moment of tinkering muted it. Who knew they'd ever want it to shut up? It was only natural to want to remember a compliment, especially in times of emotional turmoil.

“So, sire- I mean, Gabriel… I sincerely hope you don't think this is too, uhm, weird?” The Ferryman gestured vaguely towards the hologram, which was still spinning.

“No, I feel like I’m used to it already.” Gabriel shrugged. “I was almost dismayed when you silenced it.”

“I could unmute-”

“Don't. I’ve gotten my daily dose of… vitamin me already.”

That little joke earned a soft chuckle from the Ferryman, just as he'd planned. Good, good. One step closer to them seeing him as a friend instead of deity.

“Please tell me if I’m too close for comfort.” The Ferryman sat down next to him on the floor, and pulled out a sketchbook. They gripped their pencil a little harder in an attempt to stop their hand from shaking.

…Nervous. Yeah, that tracks. I think.

“I don't mind.” 

Silence enveloped the two. He sat there staring off into nothingness, while they… appeared to be lost in thought, too. They were fidgeting with their cloth, again, and he was preening his wings, again. They both had such noticeable tells when it came to being nervous or just generally uncomfortable. Then again, didn't everyone?

Wait, no. Minos doesn't. Or maybe he's just never been nervous around me.

…He didn't want to think about the man any further.

“Did you… inform King Minos of your departure, sire?”

Ah, here we go again.

“What? No. He's not my guardian, and as such my comings and goings are none of his business,” Gabriel replied bluntly, as he would've much rather talked about anything but Minos right now. Even this clusterfuck of emotions threatening to eat him alive would've been easier to talk about.

“...Oh my.”

Oh, so I ruined any chance of a decent relationship with him… I should start planning my funeral before it's too late.

“What are you thinking?”

I don’t want to know.

“I… presume his honour would be quite worried right about now. Probably out looking for you, scouring every inch of the Lust layer for even a hint as to your whereabouts. Maybe he's even-”

“That… That's enough. I got the point,” Gabriel muttered. “I’m not going back.”

“May I inquire as to wh-”

“No .”

Saying that so harshly may have been a bad thing, as he noticed their mood immediately plummet. Surely they didn’t think it was them and not the subject that had caused him to say it like that..? Just wonderful.

“...Sorry, it’s not your fault. I understand your curiosity, but I would much prefer not to talk about it, if that’s alright.” 

His shitty apology seemed to work, somewhat. Was he even sorry? Surely he had to be, if he’d felt bad for snapping at them. That’s what remorse felt like, right? True, genuine remorse? He didn’t know if he was even labelling these emotions right, because if he was, they wouldn’t be so damn confusing.

“It’s alright. Now, uh… Would you like to get settled into your room, sire?” The Ferryman quickly changed the subject. “I kind of chose a room for you already, but you can switch if you’d like.”

“...That’d be nice.”

● ● ●

The room --while larger than most on the ship-- was still rather cramped, and overwhelmingly blue. There was a large blue carpet on the floor, blue wallpaper on the walls above wood panelling, and a blue vase on a small side table. The only thing standing out was the red duvet on the bed.

Oh, and the water damage. Upon closer inspection, the wallpaper higher up was discoloured in certain spots, and the floorboards looked a little fucked up.

…Reminds me of a certain waterlogged mattress.

He hesitantly looked around himself. This room was barely habitable, but since he didn't want to be rude, it would have to do. Gabriel sat down on the bed and lay back, the soft mattress doing wonders for his backache. He could feel the stress leaving his body.

“May I… unpack your bag for you, sire?”

“Huh..?” He tilted his head down a little to look at the Ferryman, before letting it fall back onto the bedding. “Yeah, sure. Go ahead.”

Surely they wouldn't be weirded out by his measly belongings. Two swords, a few pieces of clothing, seed packets, a book, and some medical supplies that he wouldn't use even if he got injured. There'd come a time when he'd get even more injured and actually need that stuff. There always came a time like that.

…Ugh. I think I’m getting seasick.

The room was spinning slightly, or maybe he was, so he shut his eyes tight in the hopes of magically recovering from his ailment. Seasickness was caused by the mismatch of visuals and movement, right? What he saw stayed still while his body sensed movement, leading to his brain concluding that shit’s fucked, and that he should feel sick about it.

“I wasn't aware you were into the whole ‘fantasy’ genre of literature, sire.” 

He looked down at the Ferryman again, and saw them flipping through the book he'd taken with him. 

“I’m… I’m really not, Minos just read most of it to me when I was sick a while back. I thought I might as well finish it.” Gabriel was aware that they could probably see through that lie. The book, in reality, just had sentimental value. He wouldn't finish it.

“Oh, I did hear about that. The flu, was it?”

…What? How had they received that information? They hadn't visited the palace lately, nor had the machine or Minos wandered out this far. To his knowledge, no one he knew could communicate telepathically either, so it was a complete mystery as to how they'd gained such knowledge.

“How did you… hear about that?”

“Through a letter, sire,” the Ferryman answered casually, as if it was the most obvious thing in the universe. It really wasn't.

“And how are you sending letters, in Hell of all places?” Gabriel sat up properly on the edge of the bed.

“A special little carrier dove does it for a small fee.”

A… carrier dove? Here ? The only birds I’ve seen here are seagulls, and even those feel more like hallucinations. 

“In Hell?”

“...” The Ferryman paused in the middle of putting his clothes into the wardrobe. “...It's a virtue, sire. Not an actual bird.”

Oh, excellent. They thought he was stupid now. Clearly he was, but they didn't need to know that..!

“They… they still do patrols here? Why haven't I-”

“No, no. This one's simply chosen to remain here most of the time, with me. For some reason,” the Ferryman explained.

He’d thought the machine had slaughtered every single being that remained in Hell, save for a few it deemed too entertaining to get rid of. That virtue must’ve been really interesting, then. Or maybe it got lucky, only coming down here after the machine had gone through Wrath on its way back. Probably the latter.

“May I meet this virtue you speak of?”

Gabriel hadn’t seen an another angel in what felt like an eternity, and in all honesty, he was quite eager to hear how things were going up there after his… y'know, quirky little murder spree. 

“It's currently not here, but I’m guessing it'll return by midnight.”

“...Where is it?” He didn’t know why he was asking so many questions today. If they found it off-putting, they weren’t saying anything.

“Out delivering a letter.”

A short response. It appeared they didn’t want to divulge too much information, for fear of… upsetting him? Making him uncomfortable?

Oh, shut up. Not everything’s about me, I don’t think.

“To who?”

“To King Minos, sire.”

Of course they’d done that, he hadn’t even told them not to. Not that he had any right to tell them what they could and couldn’t do. He had no right, he couldn’t bar them from communicating with an acquaintance of theirs, even when it caused him distress. His feelings were probably unfounded, anyway. Irrational and meaningless, unwarranted and senseless. Absurd, laughable. 

…There’s something very wrong with me.

Dread had made its home deep within his guts. The venom that this feeling secreted froze him in place, a sudden pain emanating from his stomach bordering on unbearable. He didn’t know whether to throw up or cry, and to be honest, he didn’t want to do either. Maybe he should just spontaneously combust to avoid dealing with this.

“...Oh,” Gabriel muttered, visibly rattled. “Isn’t that nice.”

“Are you… alright?”

“Never been better, Charon. Though I think I need some fresh air.”

He got up, and briskly headed for the door, not forgetting to accidentally bump into the side table and barely catch the vase. Something mildly embarrassing always happened when he was trying to leave in a hurry. 

This is ridiculous. Of course I can never have nice things such as resting here without the inevitable arrival of those two looming in the background.

It would've been better if everyone just stayed away from him. He wouldn't have to worry about doing or saying the wrong thing, about hurting them, about-

This was all just about him, wasn't it? It was all about what he was doing wrong or what he wasn't doing, and how he was a burden and the centre of everyone else's worlds. How everybody was always thinking about him , his wrongs, his flaws, his mistakes, his pathetic attempts at trying to act like a normal person that hadn't been a puppet his entire life. A normal person that knew how to take care of himself, how to talk about his stupid little problems instead of behaving like an ass and making himself into the problem.

…Such ‘normal person’ thoughts to have. I’m excelling at this.

They were just trying to help. Everyone was. It should’ve been clear to him, but the evil blob that was his brain refused to accept undeserved kindness. He hadn’t earned it yet; there was so much more to atone for, so many bridges to rebuild. So much more pain to be felt, so many more wounds to inflict just to show how willing he was to throw his own comfort, his wants and needs, to the side if it meant redemption. 

Disgusting, the previous me wouldn’t have even entertained such grim thoughts. Though he probably wouldn’t have had them in the first place.

● ● ●

The ocean and starless night sky seemed to merge into a dark blue sheet of pure void that would devour him whole if he got too close. Moonlight barely illuminated his surroundings as Gabriel leaned against the railing, numb from both the cold wind and the amount of fucked up thoughts his brain bombarded him with. His gaze was set on the entrance of Wrath.

Expecting them to appear any minute now probably wasn't healthy, or helping his situation in any way. They'd obviously search Lust top-to-bottom first, which would take days at the very least, and then do the same for Gluttony and Greed. 

Oh, wait. The ‘carrier dove’.

…Right. They wouldn't bother searching the layers that thoroughly if they knew where he was, and as such the journey would take a day at most. 

He knew that he shouldn't run. Hell was just one large dead end, so he’d be cornered if he went any further down. Besides, they wouldn’t hurt him even if they found him. They wouldn’t. They’d had at least a year to do so, and they hadn’t seized the opportunity. He had to stop listening to these… these lies his brain was throwing at him, they were making him ruin his life even further.

But what if he was wrong, and this escapade of his had been the last straw? Then he'd have reason to be afraid. His brain wouldn't have been lying to him, but trying to warn him. Trying to alert him to danger fast approaching.

In his mind, there was a sixty percent chance they hated him now, and a thirty-five percent chance they didn't, so that left five percent for something else. 

…What would that ‘something else’ even be?

Chapter Text

Gabriel could do nothing but wait. So there he was, just sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest, and wings tucked tight against his back to discourage himself from running. Hugging a pillow, rocking from side to side, muttering attempts at comforting words to himself. Freaking himself out with imagined scenarios of everything going horribly wrong.

That was what he’d been doing for the past day and half. The Ferryman had checked up on him numerous times, each time attempting to make small-talk, only for him to not respond at all. They didn’t seem to take it personally, though. It was obvious that they weren’t the problem but the two that were set to arrive any minute now. 

…It’s okay. Everything’s okay. I’m still okay.

He was not, in fact, okay. And everyone could tell.

Okay, okay… I’m absolutely fucked up and going insane. Everything’s going horribly.

The Ferryman was keeping him company as he wallowed in his misery. They were sitting about a metre from him, carving something from a small piece of driftwood. It’d been ten minutes, maybe fifteen, but the sculpture looked nearly finished. It appeared to depict… the machine?

Oh, I suppose making things in my likeness got too boring. I’m not feeling hurt at all.

Their attention to detail was quite impressive. Each joint, each plate of metal, each wire and tube and notch and crevice and-

…Ew. Stop thinking like that. It makes me sound even more fucked up.

It would never let him out of its sight again, not for a millisecond. He'd never know the relief of solitude again. It would cling to him at all times; while he slept, when he went to scavenge, or even when he’d take a bath. It would analyse his every move and probably make him a schedule he'd have to stick to, just so it wouldn't have to calculate his chances of running away every time they went anywhere.

That scenario didn't sound very fun. What if, instead, it understood his need to get away every now and then? Maybe it'd grow less clingy and dependent on him. Well, dependent on his blood. Not him.

The wooden sculpture of the machine was surprisingly accurate in its details. The Ferryman had met it like once, so it was almost terrifying how well they remembered its intricacies from such a brief encounter. Did they make their first sculpture of him with such accuracy?

“What are you making?” Gabriel decided to start with a question. It'd be better for them to explain their reasoning for making this sculpture.

The Ferryman nearly dropped the sculpture when he suddenly spoke, but quickly scrambled to look like they hadn’t just lost several years off of their seemingly infinite lifespan. Whoops, startled them.

“O-oh, this? It’s… just a chess piece.”

He didn’t know much about chess since he’d never really had the time to learn, and now that he had the time, he lacked any interest in learning about it. He couldn’t force himself. Sure, it would probably be a nice way to pass the time with somebody, but getting annihilated constantly in the beginning would quickly get on his nerves. Though he didn’t need to know how to play chess to think that a specific piece looked like a work of art.

“But… but worry not, for I’ve already made two pieces in your likeness.” The Ferryman took out two identical chess pieces that looked like him. They’d paint them later, probably.

This should've been a great honour, to be immortalised in art for the umpteenth time, but… he just felt bad. Why did they insist on seeing him as his past self? Would the realisation that their saviour wasn't invulnerable crush them? That he was just like anyone else down here? That there was no hope for any of them, that they were doomed to a mundane and pointless rest of eternity? That it was his fa-

Yes, yes. Everything's always my fault. There's nothing I can do about it.

He returned to staring at the door, with knees pulled up to his chest. This was going horribly.

“...I don't get it.”

“Get what, sire?”

“Why are you always so nice to me? There's nothing to gain from it. It’s… quite the opposite, in fact.” While he did regret opening his stupid mouth, the words would not cease flowing. “Like, I’m… I’m miserable and stressed all the time, and I bet that's just radiating off of me and making you feel like shit as well, but I just… I can't stop it. I can't stop just spiralling every single time I think of something negative, and that's why I keep ruining every friendship I’ve tried to rebuild, that I’ve tried to mend. It's all in vain, and, and… Any chance of me feeling ‘happy’ again was lost the second I- the second He… I don't know! I-I don't even know what I’m trying to say anymore..!”

The Ferryman was quietly listening to him ramble, inching close enough to maybe pat him on the shoulder, or to gently squeeze his hand- No, they wouldn't do that without asking, and interrupting him mid-ramble would've been rude.

Without looking at them, Gabriel offered them his hand. An invitation, a request for them to please just make everything feel bearable, to somehow ease the agony of this meaningless existence surrounded by reminders of his past that would not stop trying to fix him. As if an act as insignificant as holding a hand would magically cure everything.

They took it anyway, as useless of an action as that was when taking into account the vastness of the turbulent sea that was his inner turmoil. 

…It was nice.

“I’m… sorry for offloading this all on you,” he muttered rather awkwardly. “It's been a bit tough lately, and I know that's not really an excuse, but-”

“It's alright, sire.” The Ferryman lightly squeezed his hand. “I understand, even if the troubles of my past… pale in comparison to yours.”

“...Hm? What did you do?”

He would've facepalmed at his social blunder if his other hand wasn't also being held by the Ferryman. One does not simply ask someone to recount all their past sins and mistakes.

“Oh, you know… Murder,” the Ferryman answered, before hurrying to add clarification. “But only once! And I would say it doesn't count, because I had to do it to get this… this job.”

“...That's one hell of a job interview.”

A little joke to lighten the mood. Also so that I won't cry.

It worked to make the Ferryman chuckle a little, so it wasn't a complete bust.

The two sat there in silence for a while. For once, it felt comfortable instead of nerve-wracking, and didn't make him want to shut down until the uncomfortable situation was over. He liked this kind of silence. Oh, and also the handholding.

“Uhm, Charon… If it's not too much to ask, could you help me ‘untangle’ my thoughts a little?”

The Ferryman simply nodded, so he took this as his cue to continue. They wouldn’t tell him he was just overthinking things, right? At least they'd be nice about it.

“So, uh… Minos and the machine will be here any minute now, right? So the thing is, while I’m glad that they at least pretend to care about me, I’m dreading seeing them again. Genuinely dreading.” 

“And why do you think that is?”

“...Because I’ve been nothing but a nuisance and cause for concern ever since I moved in with him. He must be tired of it by now, tired of me running away constantly.”

“I see…” The Ferryman paused for a bit. “Have you asked King Minos how he feels about it?” 

“Well, no, but I bet it feels horrible, having to worry about whether I get back home in one piece or a dozen. Or if I get home at all. And when he comes looking for me, he probably can't stop thinking about whether he'll find me dead or alive.”

“Mhm… Would you like a word of advice?”

If he was going to ask anyone for advice, it would be the Ferryman. They knew a thing or two about dealing with fucked up emotions --and he didn’t hate them-- so he was actually willing to listen. Thus, he nodded.

“Alright. So, I know this is going to sound like the most obvious thing in the world, sire, but bear with me,” the Ferryman continued. “Talk to him.”

“What? No, not a ch-”

They squeezed his hand gently. “And please do not say ‘no’. It’s pretty much the only other option you have apart from continuing on like this, and --forgive me if I’m wrong-- I would assume this is not how you’d want to keep on living.”

“...There’s a third option,” Gabriel said under his breath, hoping they wouldn’t catch it. 

But they did catch it. The Ferryman sighed and stayed silent for a moment, clearly attempting to figure out a response that wouldn’t make him feel like a freak for thinking like that. It proved to be a difficult task, seeing as a minute had passed already since they fell silent. He was sure they were still thinking about that response.

“It’s not like I would actually do it. It’s just nice to have, uhm… an option that’s always there.” He was digging a deeper hole for himself. They were bound to get very concerned now, he knew it.

They still weren’t responding. Had he broken them? Were they really just trying to figure out how to say he was completely fucked up and beyond help? No, no, they wouldn’t say that. But what if they would now? Great, he just lost the last person that would bother with him. 

Say it. Say you hate me, too. I need you to tell me you hate me.

“Charon..?”

“...I used to think like that as well.” The Ferryman still sounded as kind as always, like they didn’t hate him. How peculiar. “Still do, but only sometimes.”

“How did you… stop thinking like that all the time?”

“It might not work for everyone, but I try to think of things I haven’t gotten to try yet. Sights I haven’t yet seen, paintings and statues I haven’t yet made… and hugs I haven’t yet had, as silly as that sounds. It’s something to look forward to.”

…It’s not silly if it works.

“That’s it?” 

How hadn’t he thought of that? Just think of all the things you’d miss out on if you were dead, as simple as that. That wouldn’t help him figure out how to deal with situations that made him want to shrivel up and perish, though. If he followed their advice, he'd only have two options when it came to such occasions. Endure it, or ignore it. 

“Would you like to try? If it doesn’t help, we can always figure out something else.” 

He wanted to try, but… Why did they, too, want to prolong his suffering? Didn't they know how agonising it was to keep going despite everything, with basically zero hope of salvation? Remembering how much pain he'd caused, while being unable to make up for any of it. Having to face those he'd hurt, while pretending guilt wasn't eating him up inside to the extent that it was. He wasn't allowed to play victim here.

“...This won’t help with the terror I feel at the thought of facing them.”

“We’ll get to that, sire. Don’t worry.” The Ferryman squeezed his hand once more. They seemed to like doing that, and it did work to make him calm down. For now.

● ● ●

It couldn’t wait to see him again. 

It had been two days since it'd seen Gabriel, just two days, but it felt like a lifetime. The first day it’d spent with Minos, searching for the angel in Lust, until he'd received a letter. They'd departed for Wrath the next day, and proceeded to spend nearly the entire day in Greed chasing phantoms. But at last, they were here.

V1 would've bolted over to the ferry in the distance, were it not for Minos. While it didn't necessarily consider him to be more important to it than Gabriel was, it didn't want to just ditch him here. Who knows, he could get lost on the singular path that led to the ferry.

It yanked Minos' arm, urging him to move even a little faster. What was he dallying for? Their angel was right there, a few hundred metres away! He should've been as eager to see Gabriel as it was, he'd done nothing but worry about the angel for the past two days. He should've been over there in seconds. It would've been.

He was still moving so damn slowly, and V1 couldn’t stand it. It was practically vibrating with simulated excitement, pulling Minos along as fast as he was willing to go, optic trained on the ferry. What would it do first when it found the angel? Unload its whole arsenal into him? While he could survive that, he’d think it was mad at him, and it didn’t want that. Hug him? Sure, but he might not want that right now. He’d understand why it chose to do that, though. Hugging was a way to show affection and/or compassion, and it was pretty sure it felt affection towards him. Even if that feeling was just simulated and not ‘real’.

…Oh, to hell with Minos. He’d make it there by himself too. 

It decided to just go for it. V1 dashed, hopping onto what it recalled to be the Ferryman’s house, and launched itself towards the ferry. It had enough momentum to get to that platform, from where it’d just grapple onto the deck. It’d made some modifications to that arm, so now it could securely attach to even the sturdiest of metals, allowing V1 to reach even more places with relative ease. 

In half a minute, it reached the railing. Vaulting over, it-

Minos was there already. Either its optic was failing, or he really was somehow faster than it was. He couldn't teleport, that much it knew. It would've sensed that.

“Ah, it appears I won,” Minos chuckled, lightly patting it on the shoulder. “Better luck next time.” 

It wanted to learn his secret. Traversing a few hundred metres in seconds was a very impressive skill, and the last thing it hadn’t yet mastered. To move so fast as to be nearly imperceptible… That would’ve been useful approximately a year ago.

Rolling its eye, V1 continued its task of finding Gabriel in order to hug him so hard he couldn’t breathe. It needed to squeeze any intention of him leaving again out of him. Fetching him whenever he bailed was getting pretty tedious, honestly, and even though it enjoyed the scenery on the way, it was a complete waste of fuel. And though the angel was basically an infinite source of blood, having to ration what it had was stressful. Oh, and the chance of finding him dead… Well, it’d just have to settle for- 

No, no. The blood thing was only between it and Gabriel. It was their thing. V1 preferred to think those were their bonding moments, even if they didn’t always bother to exchange words. Those moments gave it an excuse to observe him in greater detail. The soft sound of his breath hitching when its hand brushed up against him, the way he visibly relaxed when the cut was finally made, the increasing number of scars in places that people wouldn’t typically injure by accident… He scarred now, it’d noticed. It’d taken to remembering which scars were its and which weren’t, and there were quite a few of the latter. If and when it found who was inflicting those upon him, it would show them how many ways there was to break a bone.

…If there even was ‘someone else’.

It would cross that bridge when it got there. Right now, its task was to find which area of the ferry Gabriel would be in. Lounges, hallways, cabins, a bar… To its knowledge, he didn’t drink, so there’d be no reason for him to be at the bar. Any of the lounges? It’d checked each and every one in under a minute. The hologram room was empty, too, but it did take note of the centrepiece being muted for once. He’d been here.

Next up, the cabins. It methodically checked each room, peeking under the bed just in case he was somehow there. One never knew with Gabriel. Hell, he could be on the ceiling for all it knew. 

It wasn’t long until it got to the last door, hesitating for a nanosecond before busting it open, most likely scaring the everliving shit out of the two occupants. Its gaze first fell upon the Ferryman. They were sitting on the floor, surrounded by wood carving tools and a few sculptures. Their demeanour seemed very startled, which was to be expected, but it couldn’t help feeling suspicious. This was a person it didn’t know too well, after all.

V1’s gaze turned to Gabriel, who was seated on the end of the bed. It appeared as if he’d been laying down, maybe asleep, as the duvet had a light imprint on it and his feathers were a little ruffled. His slightly dazed demeanour added to that theory.

Without taking the time to think of the consequences, V1 launched itself across the room, wrapping its legs and all five of its arms around Gabriel upon impact. This had the undesired effect of knocking the wind out of him, which would’ve been kind of funny had it not also gotten a sound reminiscent of a whimper out of him. It loosened its grip on him a little. There was no point in causing him unnecessary pain right now.

“...Hello to you too,” Gabriel managed to say from beneath it, the smile in his voice not escaping its notice. 

Oh, he was happy to see it! The truckload of simulated serotonin in its system right now was making it feel… many things. Relief, so it hugged him tighter again. Joy, so it lightly bonked its face against his helmet. Hunger, so-

It ignored that instinct for now. There’d come a time for that, too, and it wasn’t running out of fuel for at least the next hour. Hour and half if it stopped shaking from excitement.

“Gah…” Gabriel managed to wriggle a hand out from beneath V1. “I’m… I’m not going anywhere, machine. You can let go now.”

Despite not really wanting to, it obliged, since his happiness came first. It moved to sit next to him on the bed, and stared at him with its big ol’ optic. Now would probably be a good refuelling time.

“Hm? What is it?” 

He should've understood these cues by now. It pointed to his arm, then to itself. Maybe it should've checked him for any signs of head injury.

“O-oh, right, right. You want blood. Sorry.” Gabriel extended an arm towards it, and it barely managed to stop itself from tearing him into shreds. Behaving relatively well was one of the conditions he’d set for it. 

One hand moved to grip his wrist, tenderly yet firmly, while the other hovered just a hair away from his skin. He’d normally prefer larger, more obvious wounds. This time they had an observer, though. An observer who might get a little squeamish. 

It looked across the room at the Ferryman, who was tightly gripping their cloth, shaking a little from how hard they were doing so. However, instead of being squeamish, they seemed… displeased, to say the least. It’d expected that. They were borderline obsessed with its angel, one only had to take a peek into any room of the ferry to notice that. Paintings, statues, sculptures… And that hologram. How did they even record those lines..?

The Ferryman didn’t matter right now. With well-practised grace, V1 dragged one of its sharper digits along his arm. It was a perfectly straight line, with beads of gorgeous red emerging not long after, holding their shape until he moved a little.

V1 pressed its chest plating against the fresh cut, quickly absorbing each and every drop before his blood had the chance to stain the bedsheets. It chose to ignore the muted gasp from the angel. He was always so dramatic, getting a kick out of bleeding for someone --or something-- else. And it was happy to help him feel some strange new emotions.

With refuelling out of the way, it pulled out a roll of gauze from a secret compartment. There was no way it’d let his wounds get infected, even if it found it kind of fascinating to see him all pathetic and weak in bed, clinging to it for any sort of comfort. That wouldn’t be good for his psyche in the long run.

“So…” The Ferryman fidgeted with their cloth. “Does it… do that often, sire?”

“Absorb my blood? Yes.”

It bandaged his arm a little tighter than necessary, just to be safe. No fuel would go to waste on its watch. 

A peculiar thought then occurred to it. It'd found a large sheet of stickers on its way here, and in its opinion, he deserved one. So, it took out the sheet and pondered the various shapes and colours for approximately half a second. The star-shaped ones were pretty cute, as were the heart ones. There were also ones that looked like various… motor vehicles? It'd been a while since it saw those. Unless that was a false memory.

It settled on a light blue star sticker. Before Gabriel had time to react, it stuck the sticker onto his helmet, right where his left cheek would be. 

He immediately tensed up, a barely noticeable shade of purplish-pink visible on the tips of his fluffed-up wings. Honestly, it liked this side of him too. All embarrassed and flustered, stunned speechless from something as harmless as a sticker, too busy freaking out to remember to breathe. Maybe it should take a picture.

The sound from the shutter brought the angel back to the present. He instantly turned to look at it, his wings flared out in a way that most would find quite terrifying. It knew it was just instinct to him. He really was bird-coded.

…It'd have to swap those strawberry candies for a bag of sunflower seeds.

“Machine, did you just..?” Gabriel stumbled over the first few words. “Snapping a picture, after daring to place a sticker on my helmet… The audacity!” 

There he was, with his dramatic flair. It'd missed this part of him. Despite how ‘offended’ he seemed on the outside, anyone could tell that he felt flattered. The tint of his wings, the tone of his voice, the way he so gently reached up to feel the sticker on his helmet. Had he never felt ‘loved’ before?

“...How’s it look?”

Mission success. He sounded absolutely delighted, which was to say he was happy and thus more likely to return ‘home’ with it. Though that was what it'd thought last time, too. Maybe it'd just have to schedule ‘make Gabriel happy’ for every hour of the day instead of once every 24 hours.

V1 gave him a thumbs up, for no reason other than to prolong this joy he received from a small piece of plastic. He would've looked even better with a dozen of those stars on him.

“Charon, what do you think?” 

The Ferryman nearly jumped out of their no-longer-existing skin upon being addressed. It could tell they didn't exactly trust it, but for the sake of not making a scene chose to suppress that feeling. It understood. Who wouldn't be a little distrustful of those around the person they deemed important? Or maybe they were just jealous of its interactions with him.

“H-huh? The sticker?” The Ferryman gathered themselves surprisingly quickly. “It… it looks lovely, sire.”

Gabriel was practically beaming at this point. It sort of wished it could see his smile, which most definitely was plastered on his face, but he apparently was not ready for the ‘removing the helmet’ part. Did that part come after the first kiss or the first night together? It would never know. Though if it bonked him enough times the helmet might break in half.

The Ferryman, as much as they tried to look happy, appeared to be fucking miserable. Of course they were, some greedy machine was trying to hog their saviour all to itself, and they didn't stand a chance when it came to charm-

No, they didn't look all that bad. Their personality, as ‘bland’ as it outwardly was, had its own charm. They didn't offend anybody with their mere presence. Obviously no one was perfect, and it could tell even they weren't exempt from that rule.

Anyway… Perhaps it would be better for Gabriel's sanity for them to also be happy. 

V1 scuttled over to the Ferryman, shoving the sheet of stickers into their hand. It pointed to the stickers, and then towards Gabriel, before scurrying back onto the bed. They were the type to return things. If they wanted to return its sticker sheet, they'd have to come over. And if they did that, it wouldn't accept it before it got them to share in the joy of putting stickers on an archangel.

“I-I couldn't possibly…” The Ferryman let out a nervous chuckle. Back to their regular self, it seemed.

“And if we insist?” Gabriel seemed to have caught onto its plan, as he put an arm around V1. He was… happy. And that was nice. 

The Ferryman approached the two hesitantly, taking their sweet time picking out a sticker. Their hand was hovering above the heart-shaped ones, though, so it was pretty clear which one they were going for. A pink heart with an obnoxious amount of glitter… A solid choice, if they wanted to make him look like the cover of a teenage girl’s diary. 

Well, it didn’t know whether that’d been an actual thing humans did, as it had only seen such in movies. It’d downloaded some from a terminal ages ago, in return giving it more Gabriel footage. Terminals were big Gabriel fans, it’d deduced. The one that had appeared in the palace’s cellar certainly was, as it would not cease trying to offer V1 a ‘bodypillow’ of him, for the low low price of a dozen pictures of the kind he would not appreciate it taking. It didn’t need a bodypillow anyway, as it had the real Gabriel. 

“...May I?”

The Ferryman had finally chosen the sticker, that glitter one. Once Gabriel nodded, they placed it on the right cheek of his helmet, their hands shaking a nigh unnoticeable amount. It chose not to draw attention to that fact.

The purplish-pink tips of his wings shifted to a shade of yellow, a colour which V1 was very familiar with. He was fun like this, beyond happy and probably full of whimsy. It'd been a long while since it'd seen him this delighted.

“Heh…” Gabriel looked as if he'd explode from the sheer amount of concentrated joy within him. He traced the outline of the heart sticker with a finger, specks of glitter sticking to it. Maybe it should one-up them.

It picked a larger star-shaped sticker, white or light grey in colour, and stuck it right next to the first one. While it was a bland one when it came to colour, it did make up for that in size. This sticker took up a significant amount of sticker space on its side of his helmet, reducing the ‘kills’ --if each sticker gave one ‘kill’ (point) regardless of size-- it would get in this to-be competition. If it put smaller stickers on the larger ones, however… No, it’d lose style points.

Spurred on by V1 adding another sticker, the Ferryman did so as well. They placed a purple heart sticker (they were so subtle), after which it stuck a darker blue star to the left of the lighter one to make a gradient, which would grant more style points. 

They placed a sticker, it placed a sticker, and so on and so forth, until the white on the front of his helmet was no longer visible. The blush was, though (he was so see-through). Did he even know that it showed?

“And… number 61.” The Ferryman placed the last heart-shaped sticker they could fit.

61… Damn, it'd only managed 60 without completely ruining the gradient it had going from red to green, and from green back to red. Though it did have to admit that theirs looked better. 

The Ferryman had somehow managed to make a landscape. They'd managed to make art, with an angel's helmet as their canvas and only heart stickers to paint with. It was kind of ‘sick’, as people would say.

Their ‘painting’ was that of a sunset over an ocean, with no land in sight. A little cliché of a topic, but as it was well-executed, it couldn't complain. It could recognise talent.

“Would you like to see, sire?” 

They fetched an ornate handheld mirror from who-knows-where, and offered it to Gabriel, who eagerly took it. V1 quickly snapped a picture, storing it in its ‘Cutebriel’ folder. 

…Yes, it was very good at naming subfolders. It had reorganised all the files in the ‘Gabriel’ folder a while back, into a grand total of four subfolders. There was ‘Cutebriel’ for cute and/or silly images and audio clips, which included the softest ‘please?’ it had ever heard him utter.

‘Madbriel’ was pretty self-explanatory, as was ‘Sadbriel’. There was also the fabled ‘Gaybriel’, which --despite the name-- contained only footage of their fights and audio clips of him being weird as fuck about his own blood. Liking the taste of blood in his mouth and all that, which it knew to not be normal. Maybe he had an iron deficiency.

“I… I think I’m going to cry.” Gabriel definitely sounded like he was going to cry. 

“...Is it that bad?”

Of course they'd assume the worst. To V1, he just seemed very happy. There were so many signals pointing in that direction, how couldn't they see? The colour of his wings, the blush, the smile evident in his tone… Just his whole demeanour screamed happiness. Contentedness.

“Huh? No, no, it's lovely. I love it,” he scrambled to respond. “I’m just so… happy? I think I’m happy.”

“Oh. That's… good, then.”

It was good, obviously. Him being happy was the main goal here, wasn't it? His happiness meant routine and stability, and more opportunities for pictures. More simulated serotonin.

“Are you happy?” Gabriel asked, sounding softer than it would have liked him to. 

A long pause. Silence, with only the sound of Gabriel’s breathing and the crashing of waves. 

“...Mainly, yes.”

More silence. A thin film of tension wrapped itself around them, which it would’ve described as ‘suffocating’ if it had lungs. 

“If I may ask, why just ‘mainly’?”

“Ah, it's nothing. This just reminded me of a… time I would rather forget, sire.”

They were lying, it could tell they were lying through their teeth. It knew they were jealous. It kind of was, too. 

The Ferryman had real emotions to relate to him with, they had the ability to make art of and for him, they had a voice to whisper soft reassurances with when he was in doubt. 

V1 had superior computing power to solve his problems with, it had the ability to let loose around him without shame, it had knowledge of every single weakness of his and just how to make him scream the loudest. It knew the composition of his blood, it knew his clothing size. It knew how to make him happy, how to make him kneel, how to make him beg. It basically knew him inside out, so nothing about him really felt new and exciting anymore. 

Though… It hadn't yet seen his internal organs. Oh, it should've done so back when he still could heal in the matter of minutes. These days, smaller wounds took maybe half a day to close, while larger ones could take days. And he had to actually care for them, disinfect and such. He healed faster than humans, still, but that was too slow for its liking. Though that fact didn't make it like him any less.

“That's understandable.”

Ah, so kind and understanding he was to those he liked. It kind of wished he'd start admitting to Minos that he didn't hate the latter’s guts. His tsundere act would get him nowhere at this rate, and they'd be stuck in a slow burn love-hate purgatory for the rest of eternity. As entertaining as that trope was, one or both parties would lose interest eventually, even Minos with his (not so) infinite patience.

“Uhm… Do I just call you ‘machine’? It feels rather… impersonal. Objectifying.” The Ferryman got down on its level. V1 didn't feel like a child, not at all. “...No offence, sire.”

“None taken.” 

A moment of awkward silence passed. Well, awkward for them. It didn’t mind the silence as much, as it constantly had some quiet music on in the background. This time it was the song it’d listened to when cleaning up the Library of Babel. It’d been at least an hour of that, on loop, while it powerwashed… books. It’d powerwashed books. A certain somebody wouldn’t be happy if it did that back at ‘home’.

“So, do I call you that, or..?” 

V1 shook its head, and pointed to its chest where its initials were. They didn’t get to call it anything other than that.

“Okay, so my actual question was… Did King Minos depart with you?”

It nodded, as Minos had definitely left with V1 in tow.

“Mhm. And he's… not here now. Did you perhaps ditch him along the way?”

It firmly shook its head. He'd come in with it, so he was probably wandering around the ferry. Although… It'd been quite some time now, he should've found his way here at this point.

“So he's… he's here already? Oh, no. Oh dear.” The Ferryman shot up. “I-I should've been there to greet him --and you-- the second you came in. I haven't cleaned anything up, I-”

“I’m… I’m sure he doesn't mind.” Gabriel sounded just as nervous as they did. What was it with these people and being afraid of Minos’ disapproval? 

“But what if he does..?”

“Then, uh… Take the machine with you. Everything will go just fine with it around!” Gabriel picked V1 up by the waist --a very rude thing to do to beings of shorter stature-- and set it down right next to the Ferryman. 

“Oh, thank… you? That's a great idea.” The Ferryman grabbed its arm. “I’ll come inform you once I’ve finished the preparations, sire.”

…What the hell were they talking about? ‘Preparations’? For what? It was eager to know more, and expected them to discuss the ‘preparations' further.

But before V1 could get answers, the Ferryman had dragged it out of the room. It had half a mind to wriggle free from their grasp and scuttle back, but decided against it, since this had technically been a command from Gabriel. It listening to him would make him happy.

● ● ●

Ugh, curse the glue in these..!

Gabriel was currently standing in front of the bathroom mirror, frantically attempting to scrub and peel off the stickers on his helmet. There were small sticker remnants under his fingernails, glue residue stuck to his helmet, and feelings of guilt gnawing at his heart. 

…Sorry, Charon. Sorry, machine.

They'd worked so hard to cheer him up, yet all he could feel now was pure panic. He was supposed to have a serious conversation with Minos in a few minutes, but here he was, with stickers on him like some sort of child. It would not help him look like he was taking this seriously.

Of course, he was taking things really seriously. He did want to at least tell Minos why he kept constantly doing things that made no sense for an amiable and ambitious angel to do. Why he always tried being happy, being around him, just to drift away again when the guilt became too much bear. Why he felt like they were just playing house pretending nothing had ever happened. Why he needed to get beaten to a pulp, maybe even killed, to atone for a mere fraction of what he’d done. 

He wasn’t doing this just for his own sake, was he? 

…What would Minos even get out of ripping open old wounds? No amount of apologies would make a difference. No amount of sobbing on his knees, no amount of proof of his penance, no amount of scars or fresh-

Now that just makes it sound like I’m saying that I’m the victim in this. I’m not.

What had become of him? He’d shifted from a naive and trusting ‘child’ into a miserable and pessimistic ‘adult’ in the span of what, a day? The day that he met the machine. What would he be doing now if they’d never met? Still blissfully pretending it’d been ‘righteous’ and ‘justified’, that the blood on his hands didn’t mean he was a murderer. That it had all been done in His name.

Ugh. Wake up, Mr. Miserable Fuck. You’ll be late at this rate.

Gabriel scrubbed the last bits of stickers and glue off of his helmet, making sure he looked somewhat presentable. His clothes were fine, his sleeves long enough, and his wings preened and without any visible feather-lacking spots. His overall vibe could use some work, but he didn’t really have time for that. The ‘pathetic wet puppy’ look would have to do. Minos wouldn’t hurt him too much, at least physically.

“Sire?” 

A knock at the bathroom door halted his self-loathing session. Well timed, he had to admit.

“...Hm? Yeah, I’m almost ready.” He smoothed out some creases on his shirt, and finally opened the door. “How do I look?”

“Oh, um… Would ‘good’ be enough of a response?”

Good? He looked… good? That was a relief, though the Ferryman's hesitation made him wonder if it was sincere or not. They wouldn't lie to him, would they?

“...I’ll take that,” Gabriel responded with a sigh. “So… How likely is it that this'll go fine? Because I feel like I’m going to royally fuck this up.”

“Everything will go just fine, sire. And if it doesn't, we can wait a little while and then try again.”

“Are you sure? I don't think he'd want me attempting to apologise over and over again until I get it right. It’ll start feeling insincere.”

“Just… go for it. What's the worst that could happen?”

That I’ll be maimed beyond recognition and won't die. That I’ll incur his wrath by making it all about myself again.

…What if the machine had told Minos about the, y'know, complicated feelings Gabriel was having towards him? This would be very awkward, then. No sane person would kill somebody and lock them away for decades while forcing them to watch their own corpse destroy what they'd built, only to then fucking fall in love with them. If it even was ‘love’.

“I’ll… Well, I’d get kicked out, at the very least.”

To put it lightly.

“In which case you'd have a place here.”

“...Point taken.” His hands wandered to preen his wings once more. “But-”

“No ifs or buts, sire. You'll survive this, I’m sure.”

Stars, they were really persistent. While yes, he'd told them to force him to do this if he faltered, he hadn't expected them to be this resolute. 

He was hesitant to believe them. They hadn't been wrong before, but what if this time was an exception? They'd have to scrape his splattered remains off of the floor and maybe walls, perhaps even the ceiling. If there’d even be anything left.

“...Sire.”

Gabriel looked back up again. They were offering him their hand, to take. So they could drag him into this inevitable catastrophe of a conversation, and maybe also to calm his nerves.

His palms were sweaty, almost off-puttingly so. Surely they wouldn't be able to tell.

“Ah, right.” He swallowed the lump in his throat, and grasped their hand. They wouldn't let him do anything other than endure this situation.

…and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. You will not fear the terror of night nor the-

“Um, you… you should perhaps loosen your grip a little. I think I heard something crack.”

“H-huh? Oh, I’m… really sorry.” He was going to let go of their hand entirely, but they wouldn't have any of it. They squeezed his hand lightly. 

…nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at mid-

“This is completely unrelated, but what's your favourite flavour of… candy, or something of the like?”

Interruptions, interruptions. Meaningless small talk in an attempt to calm my nerves.

Favourite flavour of candy? He'd never really… liked a specific flavour enough to have a favourite. Not that he'd ever had ‘favourite’ things. Every flavour, every piece of clothing, every pasta shape… He did like all of them, sure, but there was no one thing he liked above the rest. 

Wait, no, there was one thing. He did prefer skirts over pants, even if that was just for comfort reasons. And out of habit. Not because of the machine and its hobby of taking (way too many) pictures of him from various angles, and not because he looked good in a skirt. He didn't look good, he looked great in one.

Right, my favourite flavour…

“Strawberry, I guess. Why?”

That was the first one that came to mind. Blueberry, orange, raspberry, pear, redcurrant… That last one was great when made into juice, not so much as candy. 

…Also the green variant of the blackcurrant, which he'd tasted exactly once. They weren't too bad.

“Oh, it's nothing, sire. Just curious.”

They were going to use that information for something. Perhaps they were also planning on doing the ‘positive reinforcement’ thing that the machine was doing, like he was a misbehaving dog. He found himself not minding the comparison, though, as he was pretty much just like a dog. Fiercely loyal to his owner, liked scritches, and loved treats.

Oh, and he would use his teeth in a fight if he was allowed to. That had been conditioned out of him, as it wasn’t becoming of an angel to bite people. 

Reckon I could bite one of the machine’s arms off.

Before long, they stopped in front of an ornate double door. He could swear he felt his heart sink down to the floor. No, beneath the floor, beneath the waves of the ocean, beneath writhing, waterlogged bodies. 

The Ferryman, noticing his demeanour change ever so slightly, squeezed his hand. He tried to squeeze back, but discovered he was frozen in place. Typical. 

All he had to do was think of nice things, believe in himself, and trust the Ferryman. And maybe trust Minos, too, not to kill him. Trust himself to say the right words, display the right feelings, do the right things. Trust himself to not lose his patience, his restraint. To not break down bawling when he inevitably would forget every single thing he was going to say.

…Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with-

“So-”

Another interruption. Sure, they weren’t capable of reading his mind, but surely they could tell he wished for a bit of silence?

“For the love of all that is holy, Charon, stop interrupting me mid-prayer.” He stifled the urge to raise his voice. He shouldn’t take his frustrations out on them, he knew. “...Please?”

“...Of course. Whenever you're ready.”

Even after everything, knowing what he knew now, reciting those words still helped. Maybe it reminded him of the days before everything went to shit. Back when everything felt like one really long day yet he never got tired, when he had the time and drive to observe things, to marvel at the tiniest wonders of the world. When he had the time to talk to people, to listen to their tales, their joys and woes. When he had friends, when he had… family. Not of blood, but… They'd disowned him already, he reckoned.

…He wasn't ready. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to, he couldn't. He couldn't. But he had to. He had to, even though his limbs would not listen to the command to go forward. 

If he was going to die, he had to do it in style. Not like this, cowering, trembling at the mere thought. Like he was afraid to perish. He wasn't, but his body disagreed. That blasted survival instinct would get him nowhere.

“Hey, Charon.” Gabriel steadied his breathing. Everything would be fine, they’d promised. “Please remember that my favourite colour was blue. Red too, I guess.”

“...What for?”

“The funeral.”

And before the Ferryman could respond, Gabriel pushed open the door, which creaked like its hinges had never been oiled. How abnormally negligent of them.

The room was spacious, and the walls filled with paintings not of Gabriel. A large window took up most of the opposite wall. Heavy furniture framed the window, with bookshelves to the right and a fireplace(?) to the left. A rather familiar-looking couch sat in the middle of the room, facing the gnashing waves, with an even more familiar person sitting on it.

That… definitely looks like the couches in the palace.  

Now that he thought about it, everything in this room looked like it'd come straight from there, clashing with the decor of the rest of the ferry. Most surfaces had a layer of dust on them, so this change certainly wasn't recent.

It's too calm here. I don't think I should-

Taking a step back, he felt a hand on his back, which gently nudged him forward again. The door then closed, sealing his fate. Well, at least forcing him to commit to this thing.

…I don't want to. I don't think he wants me to. I shouldn't ruin everything by opening my stupid mouth again.

His body took a step forward against his will. He preferred to think of this as his body being a treacherous bastard, not as him wanting to just get this over with as soon as possible. That was a bad thought to have of a serious conversation, right?

Gabriel sat down on the other end of the couch, not even glancing at Minos. The silence was eating him alive.

He tucked his wings against his back, the colour of them having long faded to an ashen white. As white as a sheet, as pale as a ghost. He barely managed to stop them from puffing up in terror.

Okay, okay… So far so good.

After a couple deep breaths, he opened his mouth, only to find that no words came out. He didn't know how to begin a conversation anymore. He didn't know how to look anyone in the eye, how to get the tremble out of his voice.

“...Hi..?” His greeting came out more like a question. Great, he was already starting this off on the wrong foot.

“Hello, Gabriel.” 

A simple, calm and collected greeting. He used to be able to do that too, to push emotions into a box and lock them in, not thinking about them at all until it was time to let them out. Now the box was more like a colander, holes punched into every side for emotions to leak out. 

…He didn't use a nickname this time. That definitely was a bad omen, wasn't it? He always said ‘angel’ or ‘my angel’, and other sappy stuff like that. 

“What was it that thou wished for us to talk about? I was told ‘twas of great importance.”

Right… What was he here for again, besides being a nervous mess? The apology, for one. Also to figure out whether Minos hated him or not, whether he felt anything other than… neutral about him. But the apology was more important.

“O-oh, right, that…” Gabriel muttered, scrambling to remember what he'd rehearsed.

Breathe… I’ll remember soon. Probably.

Silence. Nothing but the sound of crashing waves, creaking hull, his breathing. His wings fluttering nervously.

Silence. Growing panic. Maybe he should've written it all down on paper… No, that would've looked insincere. Sincere words were supposed to come from the heart, not the paper. 

…I don't remember anything I rehearsed. 

Straight up dying would've been less painful than this. Attempting to swallow the lump in his throat did little to calm the prey animal in his head, instead only serving to make it freak out more. Like a heart beating so fast it was just shaking in place.

How do I… What do I do..? 

More silence. He wished his chest didn't ache, and his eyes didn't water. Why couldn't he do anything right? This was supposed to be a simple apology, how did he fuck it up this bad? All he had to do was say it. Say it and mean it.

“...I-I’m sorry.”

There. Was he apologising for his previous acts or current behaviour? That part remained unclear, and maybe it was for the best to just assume it was both.

“What for?”

Gabriel could sense a hint of sympathy in his tone. Perhaps it was for the better that it wasn't empathy.

● ● ●

It would be a lie to say its intent wasn't to eavesdrop. V1 was currently in a cupboard, sitting folded up like goddamn origami. Its optic was dimmed down to basically nothing, fans set to the quietest setting, and hearing cranked up to the max.

…It was so hot in here. Its internal sensors got a reading of 97.7°C, which certainly wasn't good. As long as it didn't go above a hundred.

Gabriel had been quiet for a minute now. From a crack between the cupboard doors, it could just barely see him sitting on the couch, his wings a ghostly white. It wasn't quite sure what that colour meant, but based on his overall demeanour it was something negative.

“What art thou sorry for, Gabriel?” Minos repeated his previous question. His tone lacked a significant amount of his usual… What was the word? Poise?

*poise¹

*/ˈpoɪz/

* noun

*1. graceful and elegant bearing in a person.

*2. (archaic) balance; equilibrium.

Minos’ tone lacked some of his usual poise. It wasn't enough to be considered blunt or rude, but enough so that everyone could tell. Probably a touchy subject. V1 could recall only one time he'd been this ‘ruffled’, and that'd been when Gabriel had decided to ditch them and they eventually found him in some dingy chapel. Of course, he'd tried to maintain that elegant facade for its sake, but it could tell.

“Gabriel?”

It had picked up on the angel's breathing starting to speed up a quarter minute ago. Did that man not know how to read a person? Gabriel was quite clearly freaking the fuck out, and that tone was not helping. Surely he was able to tell if an angel was nearly hyperventilating in front of him.

Why couldn't they just make up already? It'd probably make both of them happier, and the terminals would have something new to ‘ship’. It would be so simple if they put all emotion to the side and talked about things.

“...Angel, ‘tis alright. Everything is alright.” There it was, the warmth that he should've shown Gabriel five minutes ago.

“B-but… It's not! It just is not, nothing has been alright ever since I… I..!”

Gabriel sounded positively miserable, like he'd been crying the whole time he'd been here. V1 had to temporarily disconnect its limbs so it wouldn't go ruining their moment. They had to at least try to do it themselves, before it'd be forced to fix things. 

It couldn't quite make out what Minos replied, but it did succeed in making Gabriel feel even worse, as it picked up something between a sob and a whimper coming from him. Was it really that difficult to calm somebody down when using words? It could just bonk his helmet with its face and have him beaming in the matter of seconds.

“You… you should hate me,” Gabriel muttered after a moment. “...Do you?”

Some blue had seeped back into his wings. It appeared the overwhelming feeling of terror had passed after that little emotional release, settling down into his usual lingering guilt.

V1 knew what he'd done, but didn't really understand why he still thought about it. Weapons couldn't disobey orders, go against their programming, so it hadn't been his fault but the wielders’. 

“To be completely honest… Yes, although significantly less than I should.” 

It could see Gabriel’s shoulders drop. That was good, but they still hadn't gone through the actual issue, i.e. the (mass) murder thing. And the ‘crush’ issue Gabriel had going on.

“And considerably less than I did approximately a year ago,” Minos continued.

Oh, the ‘imprisoned for decades if not centuries’ thing. That too. 

“...Gets a lot more difficult to kill somebody if you know them, right?” Gabriel sighed. “We should've been friends, maybe then I wouldn't have-”

“I did not put enough effort into befriending thee, to be fair.”

It didn't have enough information to verify the accuracy of that statement. Maybe it should ask them, in detail, how the whole thing went down. Though that may be a bit difficult, considering they had emotions.

“Mh… I wouldn't have listened, anyway.”

That much it had deduced itself. Gabriel had been as hard to get through as a brick, as refined as a diamond, and as set in his ways as V1 was in its. That was, until it’d showed him that there were still enemies stronger than him. Opponents more in touch with the intricacies of combat.

“Thou wouldst be surprised what I can do with a little time and effort.”

Gabriel bristled his feathers, the blue in his wings changing to a shade of yellow. Gold and white… What a colour combination. Anger and fear at once could be a pretty powerful feeling, when channelled into the right thing. Though this seemed more like mild annoyance than anger.

“Even when conversing with the other party is like talking to a brick wall?” Gabriel huffed, crossing his arms. “Listen, Minos, I don't know why you keep trying to convince me that I’m not the one that should be held responsible for my actions. First, you blame the Council, then you blame yourself? What kind of logic even is that?”

Pure gold replaced the ashen white of his wings entirely now. He really couldn't stick to one emotion for five minutes, could he? 

“Ah, well-”

“I need you to blame me, Minos! I need you to hate me, I need you to loathe me, I need you to hurt me..!”

Oh, wow. Using anger to mask his vulnerability, how clever. That had worked so well for him last time. 

“...Why should I?”

“Why shouldn't you? I-I… I don't get it, I just don't get any of you people!”

Was this how married people fought? V1 wasn't quite sure how much of the things in human movies were factually correct, or if they were just stereotypes, but this seemed very much to be how people united in holy matrimony argued.

…Human children felt scared when they heard their parents argue, right? Maybe it should feel scared too, even if they weren't its ‘parents’. 

“Angel-”

“The bad far outweighs the good I’ve done, doesn't it? You shouldn't have any mercy for me.” Gabriel had gotten to his feet, and was now pacing back and forth. “So stop pitying me and get to ending my existence already! I don't have all rest-of-eternity.”

There he was again, thinking that sacrificing himself would be better than not doing so. It wouldn't let anything happen to him if things were to actually come to that.

“Dost thou reckon thy death to change anything? That it would delight me to see thy blood on my hands and thy mangled corpse on the floor beneath me?” Minos finally got a word in, and certainly did not disappoint. “...Thou wouldst be correct about the blood part, but not the rest.”

…Why did Gabriel's wingtips turn pink for half a second just now? Did he seriously like being threatened so much that even words without any action to follow were enough to get him? 

“Oh..?” Gabriel stopped pacing, his demeanour having suddenly done a complete 180. “You would… do that? For me?”

Of course he'd be weird about this. He was always weird about blood and getting beaten half to death.

“...For thee?”

“Uhm… Ignore that.” Gabriel sat back down on the couch. “So, you would love nothing more than to spill my blood? In that case… I’m all yours.”

Pardon? His blood was not for someone else to waste. And while yes, he could replenish it in no time at all, watching fuel go to waste was almost painful.

V1 kicked open the cupboard door with no consideration for if it was an antique or not. The sound alone was enough to startle the two, Gabriel's wings changing rapidly from blue and gold to white, then gold, then back to the first one. 

It didn't move further, settling on glaring at them both. Sure, it wanted them to get along, but not that well. Getting permission to spill someone's blood was basically a step above marriage.

“M-machine? Wh…” Gabriel seemed completely thrown off guard. “What..?”

Perhaps it shouldn't have done that. While he was pretty harmless when stunned speechless, such an experience could be distressing to him.

*Hamster care guide:

*Much like any other pet, hamsters are startled quite easily. It it important that you-

Wrong guide. One concerning pet birds would be more suitable, it reckoned.

*How to calm down a startled bird:

*1. Approach slowly, making sure not to startle it again.

*2. If the bird knows and trusts you, talking to it will-

Talking… As that wasn't doable either, it would just have to do what felt right. 

V1 scuttled over to the couch once it managed to reverse-Tetris its way out of the cupboard, and sat down between the two. 

“No bloodshed, then?” Minos had caught on pretty quickly, much to its delight.

It nodded. That was its favourite pastime (besides taking pictures of Gabriel). Committing acts of violence wouldn't look good on Minos, anyway, though that was only its opinion.

“...A shame, truly.”

“I was… really looking forward to that,” Gabriel grumbled, his wings now back to their usual blue. 

On second thought, that maybe could've helped them bond. A little fuel wasted was a fair price to pay for his happiness, right?

Chapter Text

He'd never been on the receiving end of His fury before. Sure, he'd witnessed it many times, but only from above. Dark, dark clouds with occasional flashes of lightning, and that awful noise. When lightning bolts struck the ground, he could hear it all the way from his own little room up in Heaven, and back then he could only imagine how loud it was down there.

Another one struck the ground, and he could swear the whole room shook. His hands certainly were shaking. But it wasn't like he was scared. He'd never been afraid of some bad weather, especially something so powerful and… and destructive as lightning.

This is... this is merely a man-made replica.

The false sky and its false sun, moon, stars, clouds, rain, and snow... He couldn't figure out why anyone would want to experience violent thunderstorms even in the afterlife. Lightning broke things, caused fires, and even killed people, there were no positives when it came to thunderstorms.

Don’t think too much about it, you'll freak yourself out.

…A day ago, they'd returned home. It had been late into the evening when they finally departed the ferry, with him insisting they'd just teleport to save some energy. Their energy. That had turned out to be a huge mistake, as he'd allegedly passed the fuck out immediately afterwards. This led to him sleeping for the next 22 hours, briefly waking up every few hours for a sip of water, or just to make sure he himself still existed. It hadn't even been that refreshing kind of sleep.

He hadn't talked to Minos since the latter had retired to his quarters for the night, which occurred two hours ago. Two long, lonely hours ago. Gabriel himself didn't really feel like sleeping for obvious reasons, so he was in the main lounge, passing the time by trying to learn a new skill.

…Too much water.

Watercolours. He was trying to learn how to use watercolours, but without bothering to learn how to draw anything with a pen first. Well, he'd tried like twice, before concluding that kind of art to be witchcraft.

Gabriel had initially thought watercolours to be more simple to use, but no. Either he was too impatient when waiting for things to dry, or his hands were shaking so bad he couldn't paint a straight line. Surely it wasn't talent that he lacked, right?

He consciously tried to keep his shoulders down, since he didn't want any physical pain on top of emotional anguish. There was nothing he could really do about his fluffed-up wings, though. It was kind of embarrassing, honestly, to have something he couldn't fully control displaying all his emotions. Like he was an open book anyone could figure out at a glance. And while he could force their colour back to full blue, the fluffiness would stay, so it wasn't worth the effort.

…And the machine liked how his wings felt when they were all puffed up. Even now, it was behind him on the floor, fingers gently preening the feathers. Distracting him even more than the thunderstorm was. Stars, he could get used to-

A flash, and then a bolt of lightning shook the room once more. There wasn't even a three-second delay, meaning it was right above them, and could get him any minute now. The chances of lightning hitting him indoors was low, but never zero. Maybe it could get him through an electrical outlet.

They both pretended to not hear the whimper that'd left him when lightning struck. The machine continued with the wing scritches as he attempted to stabilise his hands, growing increasingly frustrated with how his body would not cease displaying fear even when he clearly wasn't scared.

How am I so bad at putting some shapes down on paper? That is nowhere near a circle.

Lightning struck again, as did the urge to throw all of these art supplies out of the window. He didn't do it, of course, but the urge was there. His shaking hand gripped the paintbrush. The shaking would not stop, and neither would the thunder. 

The machine suddenly gripped his wing tightly, hard enough to be painful. He could swear he felt a feather or two break.

“What was that for?!” Gabriel spun around, ready to give it a piece of his mind. He'd trusted it enough to let it touch his wings, and this was how it repaid him?

The machine made a gesture indicating it’d gotten smacked right in the face. With his wing, probably.

“...Oh. I didn't realise I’d… done that, I’m sorry.” Too busy freaking out to realise he'd hit it? It wasn't even a lie, yet it felt like one.

He went back to attempting to paint something that looked half-decent. His hands now shook a little less, so he managed to paint a nice yellow circle.

That'll be the ‘eye’...

The subject of his artwork tapped his shoulder to get his attention. It'd written something down on paper, which seemed to be its favourite method of communication aside from hitting their ‘faces’ together so hard he could hear colours.

*“Scared of a little lightning?”

Was it mocking him? Mocking him, yet also continuing to calm him down whenever he got spooked? He was getting a lot of mixed signals here.

“Scared..? N-no…” He definitely sounded scared.

*“Not convinced.”

How was he supposed to convince it of his lack of fear when it came to thunderstorms? There was absolutely no fear in his heart to be felt towards some lightning, his heart didn't jump into his throat when a sound reminiscent of the crack of a whip came from a lightning bolt hitting the ground. It didn't remind him of anything he'd witnessed or experienced.

“I’m not… I’m not scared! There's no way I’d be afraid of a-”

A rumble, a flash, and then two seconds of silence. Those were the longest two seconds he'd ever endured, not counting the whi-

Then, the deafening crack of lightning so violent that he could hear the windows rattling. Death would've been a mercy, but he didn't deserve a drop of that.

…And then, peace again. Opening his eyes, Gabriel found himself clinging onto the machine for dear life. He was practically sitting on its lap, wings wrapped around the both of them like a cocoon, and shaking like a leaf in the wind.

“...This still doesn't mean I’m scared.”

It absolutely meant he was scared, but he couldn't just admit that. He had to save face.

*“Scared (adjective): thrown into / being in a state of fear, fright, or panic.”

“Don't throw dictionary definitions at me!” Gabriel peeled himself off of the machine, his wings fading from white back to blue. He wasn't truly mad at it. It was correct in its assumption; he just didn't want to hear it.

*“Fear is normal.”

Before the machine could pat his helmet, Gabriel got to his feet. He was going to do something about this ‘fear’. Preferably something that didn't include clinging to the machine, or hiding under a couch.

● ● ●

He was building a nest, it seemed. V1 wasn't quite sure how to help, so it stayed perched on the back of a couch as Gabriel dragged pillows and blankets into a corner, beneath a side table. It was quite an adorable sight. 

Once the entire underside of the side table was full of pillows, cushions and blankets, Gabriel crawled in. While it was a bit of a struggle, he managed to get comfortable in there eventually. 

It decided to get a little closer to keep him company. Although it would've loved to get under a dozen blankets as well, that would definitely overheat its systems, so it settled on sitting right by the pillow heap. 

*“Are you okay?”

V1 wanted to keep him talking. That usually worked well as a distraction, and he needed to not focus on any fears of his.

“Do I… Do I look okay to you..?”

Okay, so he was feeling vulnerable, and thus trying to mask it with anger. It knew how to fix that.

It bonked its face against the bit of his helmet that was visible from the cushion nest, which made a soft laugh escape him. Good, good. He was calming down already.

*“Please talk about something you like.”

“...Why?” 

Why not? It didn't know why he wanted a reason or an excuse to talk about things that he liked. He could use some of that confidence he had when they first met, the belief he had that he was worthy of people's time. Maybe stroking his ego would work.

*“Your voice is nice. Soothing.”

“H-huh? You really think so?” Gabriel buried himself a little deeper into his nest. It noticed him placing a hand over the lower part of his helmet, signalling that its method was working.

*“Yes. So, what thing in the past month has made you the happiest?”

He paused for an abnormally long time, which was just a few seconds shy of a minute. After a few failed attempts at starting a sentence, he just sighed, sinking even deeper into his pillow heap.

“Made me the happiest…” Gabriel muttered nigh inaudibly. Was it too difficult to pick just one, or could he only remember the bad things?

V1 decided to show him the ‘are you okay’ paper from before. There was no need to waste paper on writing the same question multiple times, was there?

“Hm? Yeah, I’m… alright, I suppose. You just asked a pretty difficult question, machine, and I don't think I have an immediate answer for that.”

Time to narrow it down, then.

*“Who has made you the happiest?”

“Oh, it’s either you or Charon, easily. I don't think I’ve ever felt more joy than when you two placed those… silly stickers on my helmet.”

So it hadn't read the situation wrong. Not that it'd ever read any situation wrong ever, it was a people-reading expert.

*“What emotions did you feel at that time? Other than joy.”

“Other… emotions?” Gabriel’s wings shifted, sending a pillow from the top of the heap tumbling down. “Well, I felt… loved?”

*“And?”

“There is no ‘and’, machine-”

This crack of lightning did manage to get Gabriel, whereas the previous one hadn't. It heard a whimper as he retreated fully into the cushion nest. Oh, poor angel, felled by a loud noise.

…V1 could swear he let out a sob. It reached a hand between the pillows, and gave his wing a few scritches. The sobs were almost immediately replaced by purrs of contentment.

When it after a minute or two attempted to pull its hand away, he grabbed it to keep it in place. He really was a greedy one when it came to wing scritches.

“Y-yes, right there…” He peeked out when it paused for a nanosecond. “...Please?”

Damn. If he didn't sound pathetic before, he did now. Perhaps it liked its angels content and (figuratively) high on oxytocin.

After many more minutes of wing scritches, it managed to yank its hand away despite his protests. At that moment, he kind of sounded like a deflating balloon, and definitely looked like one when he sank back into his nest.

“...I can never have nice things, can I?”

That was a blatant lie. He'd just gotten a month's worth of physical affection, how could he still crave more? Then again, he'd probably gone decades or centuries --maybe even millennia-- without a single comforting touch, it was natural he'd want all the affection he could have.

“Of course not, that'd be overindulgence and a sin,” Gabriel responded to himself. “...Gluttony, probably.”

Nonsense, he deserved all the affection it could give and more. All the affection that his beloveds and beloatheds could offer.

A lightning bolt shook the room again. Well, every single one of them had, but not enough to be perceptible to normal people like Gabriel. The aforementioned jumped at the sound, and succeeded in hitting the table above with his helmet. V1 caught the vase that'd fallen.

“Gh… You can place that on the coffee table.”

He just couldn't catch a break, that poor angel. Maybe he'd cheer up if it gave him a candy. It couldn't just give those away willy-nilly, though, it had to be a reward for some thing he did right. He had to earn it.

Once it relocated the vase, it squatted down in front of his den of pillows and blankets, making sure its optic was a mere centimetre from his helmet. He'd figure it out.

“What is it, machine?” He sighed, shoulders slumping as he came down from the adrenaline rush.

It just stared. He was smart, he'd get it.

“...Is this a test?”

Yep, sharp as ever. 

“Can I get a hint?”

V1 shook its head a little. No hints, he just had to use his deduction skills. There was a reason he'd been Heaven's brightest aside from being absolutely radiant in personality and appearance.

“I… I don't get it,” he replied, bonking his helmet lightly against its optic, careful not to scratch it.

…And there he was. He'd solved it in less than two minutes, that had to be a world record. For the reward, it dug out a hard strawberry candy from its ‘treatsies’ compartment, and placed it in his hand. Giving him easy tasks and tests was a simple way to circumvent that pesky rule without compromising what it’d ‘taught’ him. 

“Oh, um… Machine? Do I… get more if I do it again?”

With a shake of its head, it destroyed any aberrant thoughts he may have had. It would get very annoying pretty quickly if he started lightly headbutting it every time he wanted a candy.

● ● ●

Once the thunderstorm had passed (or simply paused long enough for him to lower his guard again), Gabriel crawled out of his makeshift nest and settled on the couch. While he was still a little jittery, the worst of it appeared to have passed already.

He used to be like lightning; bright and destructive one second, gone the next. That was expected of him. He'd been radiant and stalwart, a bringer of light and hope. But he'd also been loud and abrupt, a bringer of death and despair.

He missed that version of him. He missed the feeling of belonging that his brain associated with that ‘Gabriel’. He missed home. He missed not having to second-guess everything, he missed the comfort of routine, he missed knowing that he was loved. He missed his little room, he missed the small stash of books from Earth he'd hidden under his mattress, he missed going to sleep every night feeling safe and content. He missed not having to think, not having to question, not having to remember-

…He knew it was pathetic. Who would willingly follow somebody on a leash all their life? Somebody who yearned for the reward? Somebody who just wished to feel like they were of importance to someone else? Somebody who thought himself special to them, indispensable? He wondered who they had planned to replace him with.

Had they erased any memory of him? Emptied his room, burned the little possessions he'd had, given it to someone else to rest in. Did that someone even know they were in his room, sleeping on his bed, staring at the same ceiling he had when he couldn't sleep? Looking out of the same small window, gazing upon the magnificence that was Heaven?

The cushions to the right of him sank a little, forcing him out of his thoughts. He didn't have to look to know who it was.

“Didn't you say you were going to bed like three hours ago?”

That sounded maybe a little too accusatory, but he'd understand. It'd been a bit of a stressful night so far. He'd get it.

“Three hours and fifty-six minutes ago, yes.”

Smartass, nitpicker, know-it-all, hairsplitter… I know I should've rounded it up.

“Four, whatever.” Gabriel leaned back on the couch, very obviously attempting to look unbothered by the absolutely dreadful weather from before. “Either way, you should still be in bed if you want that full night's rest.”

“As thou art well aware, I-”

“You don't necessarily need to sleep. I know. That doesn't mean you can't, does it?” Stars, he hated how quickly he'd gone back to his usual self after that talk of theirs. “I won't hear any excuses, get back to bed.”

“I… have never felt more infantilised in my entire existence.” 

Damnit. Where's the machine when I need a distraction..?

Maybe he should apologise? No, he definitely should. He didn't want to keep repeating the same cycle over and over again.

“So… How come you're here? I sort of assumed I wouldn't see you until morning.”

…Great, I just skipped over the whole apology thing. How polite of me.

“Oh, no reason at all.” 

Based on Minos' demeanour, there was a reason. Or several. A part of him could understand why Minos wished to keep such things a secret. For one, it could’ve been something very personal, or something he found embarrassing to discuss. Maybe he simply thought Gabriel would not be able to help.

“I didn't take you for someone who'd lie about a thing like that.” He tried to force the gold and orange out of his wings, to no avail.

For fuck's sake..! Why can't I just… not sound like a piece of shit for one minute? 

“That is a fair assumption.”

What was with the short responses? Didn't he usually respond with at least two sentences instead of one..? Perhaps it was an indication that he would much rather talk with anyone other than Gabriel, but had to settle for him since there was no one else nearby. What was he but a barely tolerable placeholder?

A sudden loud crack emptied his mind of all thought, replaced by all-consuming panic. It was back. It'd lied to him, pretended to be gone for good, only to get him when he was most vulnerable. 

“Angel, thy strength is… impressive, I must admit.”

He opened his eyes, finding himself as close to Minos as he could possibly be, hugging the guy so tightly that he was damn near crushing his (nonexistent) bones. Light grey wings were wrapped around the both of them, and his whole body was shaking uncontrollably. Embarrassing, really.

“...Sorry.” Despite how mortifying this was, Gabriel couldn't let go. There would be more. There was always more. There needed to be enough to break him, only then could punishment have some sort of effect.

What kind of a person was he to have requested such a thing upon himself? He'd learned nothing. All he knew was that it hurt, hurt, hurt and hurt, and that he hadn't become any better of an angel afterwards.

“Shh… Everything is alright, angel.” Minos gently stroked one of the angel's very puffed-up wings. 

…Stop being nice. I still don't deserve it.

“I know, it's just… loud. So very loud.”

He didn't like how childish he was being. What grown being was afraid of some loud noises and flashing lights? Afraid of lightning’s power to decimate anything and everything, to turn every single thing in its path to ash? There was no reason for him to be afraid of a thing so akin to himself, right?

“And sudden?”

“That too.” He subconsciously tightened his grip a little. It wasn't like he enjoyed physical affection, the warmth was just nice to have. And having something solid to hold onto when calming down was nice.

“Fair enough.”

Silence. Perfect, serene, peaceful silence, with no lightning to startle or thoughts to scare him. He kind of wished his head would always be as quiet as it was now.

This… felt natural. Like how things were meant to be, where he was meant to be. In a warm embrace, safe from all the troubles of the world, next to someone who maybe cared about him. Well, Minos cared enough to not push him off.

“Say, angel… Doth nightmares ever plague thee at night?”

What a peculiar question. Gabriel thought about lying for half a second, but decided against it. He'd have to be honest if he wanted them to ever have… anything. 

…‘A relationship’? That will forever remain a pipe dream.

“Sometimes. Why do you ask?”

“...No reason in particular.”

There he went again, either trying to make himself seem all perfect and above common troubles, or just not trusting Gabriel enough to tell him.

“That's become your catchphrase, hasn't it?” A bit of orange crept up his now-blue wings, as he immediately regretted that reply. He should've been nicer, more understanding, more patient. 

The silence wasn't as comfortable this time, but at least Minos kept stroking his wing as gently as before. His trust in the guy to not break them wasn't misplaced, it seemed.

“What about you?” He wasn't sure if asking that would just make things worse. “Do you ever have nightmares?”

Gabriel knew he probably did have some every now and then, as getting murdered wasn't a very pleasant experience. Or watching everything he’d worked for crumbling down while being powerless to stop it.

“Merely every single time I lay my head down.”

…What? He's got to be exaggerating.

If that was true, how the hell was he still sane? That was bound to take a toll on someone's mental health. Hell, Gabriel himself was barely coping having to deal with one or two nightmares per week, and he was supposed to believe that Minos had those every night?

“You're serious..?” He wanted to pull away, to give some space, but Minos kept him right where he was. 

Guess I’m… staying right here, then. 

“...And it hath been that way ever since I perished.” Minos kept stroking Gabriel's wing, though the latter wasn't quite sure if he was doing it for himself or to keep the angel relatively calm.

Yep, that's my fault, too.

“They became only three times worse upon dying the second time.”

Wait… What?

Must've been one hell of a first death, then. Either an accident, a murder, or something like that, since a regular calm death wouldn't give someone chronic nightmares. 

He understood the ‘three times worse’ part, that'd been entirely his fault. Though he did wonder if that meant it’d made the original nightmares inflict more terror, or that the whole subject of them had changed to… that event.

“Are you okay??” He hated how much he stressed that last word, as he was sure it just came across as mocking or insulting.

“Never been better.”

Another small lie. Could he not be honest about how he felt for even five minutes? Minimising his own emotions to spare Gabriel the guilt, how righteous of him.

“...You’re using my wing as a fidget toy.” Gabriel attempted to pull away again, to no avail. Was Minos really this starved for physical contact, even from someone who'd killed him?

This reminded him greatly of his first week or two living in the palace. Minos had been so… affectionate, until Gabriel slowly pushed him away. Perhaps he was like a plant languishing as the sun drifts further away, periods of shade growing longer and darker, every cell in its body yearning for nutrients it could not go chasing for. 

“Thine assessment could not be more inaccurate. I am merely preening thy wing, not ‘fidgeting’ with it.”

Dying plants can be revived if the roots are still healthy. For overwatered plants, changing the soil and pot would do, while underwatered plants only required some watering. For plants receiving too little light, one would first have to figure out how much light it preferred, and then move it to a spot aligned with its preferences. 

“That’s just fancy people talk for ‘yes’.”

Adding some extra nutrients could work too, but not by itself and not too quickly. Too much all at once would not be good for a dying plant, for a plant that’s gotten used to living minimally. Used to merely surviving. Adding a small amount of additional nutrients not too frequently, all the while keeping a close eye on the plant, would usually result in successfully reviving it. 

“I shall refrain from tearing thee away from thy delusion.” 

There was no malice or animosity behind that sentence, so Gabriel assumed he was doing well so far. Maybe he'd push it, just a bit.

“Aw, somebody's mad~” He couldn't recall the last time a smile this genuine had appeared on his face when talking to Minos. It was… great. He'd missed this, somewhat.

“An awfully bold statement for somebody who currently hath his throat quite exposed.”

…Holy fuck. That's… I like that one.

A finger slowly traced across Gabriel's throat, a touch light enough to barely be felt. He felt a little bit like he was mere prey, a fawn toyed with by a beast of prey, but only for a fraction of a second. The tips of his wings turned a tiny bit more pink.

“...Stop that. You know how in-”

A very inconveniently timed strike of lightning halted his protests. He should've been used to it by now, but this one managed to get a whimper out of him too. He really needed to get a grip, didn't he?

“I-I… I think I’m going to stay right here for the rest of the night.” Gabriel gripped Minos a little tighter. “If you don't mind.”

Chapter Text

It was one of the last few comfortably warm days of the season. As such, Gabriel was currently laying in the lilac grass not too far from the palace, with the machine running circles around him like it'd chugged an entire pot’s worth of coffee in one go. At least its movement created a comfortable breeze.

Minos had insisted he come out here, strangely enough. It was usually the machine’s thing to drag him outside for fresh air, and to force him to use his strength to move obstacles that it could easily blow up by itself. Its attempt at keeping him ‘in shape’, probably. There was really no need for such, as his body had the blessing and curse of always remaining the way it was. No matter how much he indulged in food and drink or how often he engaged in strenuous activities, his body stayed the same, much to his dismay. He wanted to have a body that was completely his and his alone. A body that he had some control over, instead of… this.

The machine was now repeatedly hopping over him. To his left, then to his right, then to his left again, somehow managing to avoid stepping on his wings each time. What a curious creature it was.

The weather system was pretty out of whack, he guessed, probably due to old age and lack of maintenance. That thunderstorm had been a week ago. After that it'd been sunny for a day, after which came a hailstorm from clear skies, and the day after it had been cloudy all day. Three days ago it'd snowed a little, which then melted two days ago when it was sunny again. And yesterday it'd been so windy he feared the entire palace would take flight.

But today was nice, and that was all that mattered right now. He'd task the machine with fixing the weather system when they got sick of its unpredictability. Just give it a manual and it'd figure things out, he was sure.

…The machine was now rolling down a grassy hill, and somehow managed to roll back up each time just to do it all again. It really was bored, wasn't it?

“Hey, machine.”

It immediately scuttled over, crouching down right next to his head and staring into his soul. The pupil that was faintly visible in its optic --usually the size of a pinprick-- was basically as large as a saucer. 

“...Do you want to count how many blades of grass are in this field?”

The machine looked like it wanted to smack him. Clearly it could see the humour, though, as it refrained from doing so. He wouldn't have really minded getting smacked, he kind of deserved it for being so boring.

“No? What a shame, I would've loved to see you count to a billion.”

Sitting down on his chest, it dug out a small monitor from some side compartment of its. The monitor was the size of a page from an average book, connected to it via two thin wires side by side, which he was sure were a pain in the ass to keep untangled. He'd heard it had gotten such a device from a ‘terminal’, whatever that was. 

*“I’m not that bored. I just don't see the-”

*“point in laying around all day when we c-”

*“...I dislike this thing.”

The monitor was limited to 20 characters per row and only had two rows for text, so its only real advantage was that it was quicker to write on than paper. Oh, and the machine could change the colour of the text and background. He had deduced it liked to write his name in yellow, Minos’ in light grey, the Ferryman's in turquoise, and preferred a black background. Stylish.

“Maybe you should buy those two additional rows.”

It had divulged that those ‘terminals’ also sold upgrades for things, like getting to customise the colour of all weapons of a single type for a million ‘points’. A waste of good currency, honestly. Though the machine had fallen for that scam, because it'd wanted to have matching weapons with him.

*“Shut up. Anyway.”

*“We should go back.”

“...And why is that?” He would've much rather continued to stay there, absorbing the sunlight with a feral machine running laps around him.

For a while, no text appeared. There were just those three dots, appearing one by one and then disappearing, only to then appear again in the same fashion. It was a neat way to visualise that it was still thinking of its response.

*“Minos. Too much alone time is not good f-”

*“for him. You said it yourself.”

…Oh dear. How many hours had it been? It'd been noon when they left, and the sun was now almost starting to set. Had it really been nine hours already..?

“Why didn't you tell me this like five hours ago?!” He scrambled to his feet, grabbed the machine's arm, and began rushing back towards the palace.

*“Tried. You went right back to sleep.”

“O-oh… Guess it's my fault, then,” Gabriel conceded. “But you could've been more persistent! He probably thinks we left him for good, machine..!”

*“Fair point. Sorry.”

He felt a tinge bad for raising his voice at it, but it sort of deserved it. He also deserved whatever torture would come out of this mistake.

“If we have to somehow pay him for emotional damage, you'll get to do that with your three million ‘points’ or whatever.”

*“Can't. He's not a machine.”

“Ugh… Print some hurt/comfort ‘enemies to lovers’ fanfiction for him, then. As an apology gift.” He couldn't think of anything better on the go. “...And a copy for me, if you could.”

● ● ●

Saying that Gabriel was frantic would be an understatement. He'd gone through nearly every room, with V1 literally dragged along as he would not let go of it. 

It didn't quite get his panic. Sure, Minos wouldn't be in the best state of mind if he had to spend just a few days or weeks completely alone, but hours? The man could handle a couple hours alone. He'd been just fine every night when it checked up on him, then spent an hour or two watching over Gabriel, and then checked up on him again. Though it'd never seen him sleep, he was always fine. On the surface at least.

His wings, white with hints of gold and orange, wouldn’t stay still for a moment. Whether it was to help him move faster or just the nerves, it didn’t know. Maybe it was both. He cared, that much was obvious.

They were now stood before the door to Minos' bedroom, and Gabriel was… frozen. Even his wings were still. Why was he hesitating now?

V1 decided to just knock on the door, as that was what people did to alert the other that they were there. 

“The door is unlocked.” At least he sounded alive.

…What a warm and inviting response that was. It almost sounded like he wasn't alright in there, but V1 was pretty sure that was simply Gabriel's overthinking infecting it as well. Nonetheless, it eventually pushed the door open and dragged Gabriel inside.

The bedroom looked exactly like it had ever since V1 had ‘moved in’, and it'd probably looked like this before its arrival too. Overall, the room seemed perfectly normal, apart from all the curtains being closed, the mirror above a dressing table having been covered with a sheet, and a dozen paintings sitting in the corner facing the wall. Just like before.

Gabriel seemed surprised by the scene, however. Had he really not seen the inside of this room even once?

Looking around, it spotted Minos sitting in an armchair, with no book or anything of the sort in hand. Just sitting. His demeanour seemed a little off, but otherwise it deemed him to be normal. Nothing to worry about.

“Thou seem… perturbed, angel. Is something bothering thee?”

That was a typical Minos response, coming off as kind and caring, even when he most definitely did not feel like being kind and caring. Why did it get to always deal with the emotionally repressed idiots?

“N-no, no. I’m just a little surprised by the state of this room.” Gabriel appeared to compose himself pretty quickly. “…No wonder you haven't let me clean in here.”

“I will ignore thine insult.” 

“It wasn't meant as an insult..!” The white in his wings was replaced by gold, much to its disappointment. He was going on the defensive now, great. Why'd he feel so vulnerable around people he'd known for a while now?

V1 pulled out the small monitor it'd purchased, and shoved it a little too close to the angel's face.

*“BEHAVE.”

All capitals, in red, on a pitch black background. His armour changed to red when he was cheesed off, did it not? That was his angry colour, it’d just copied him.

“...Excuse me?”

*“Stop pissing him off, Gabriel.”

Gabriel simply sighed, and waved it off. How he'd survived the past year behaving like this was a fucking mystery.

“Okay, fine… Let's redo this.” Gabriel took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, before relaxing his shoulders and facing Minos again. “Sorry about being gone for so long, we sort of lost track of time, and… I apparently fell asleep at some point, and this… this thing didn't try to wake me up hard enough, so-”

“Thou art forgiven, as is thy creature.”

Yep, King Understanding and Forgiving was back, or so it seemed. About time. It kind of wanted to get to setting up a surprise date for them --in order to ‘get the ball rolling’, as some would say-- and that would've been kind of difficult if it had to drag one of them around.

It chose to fluster Gabriel a little more to keep him bearable, so it shoved its monitor in his face again.

*“You may now kiss the bride.”

It appeared to work, as his wings immediately became fluffier and gained a pink hue at the tips. Nerd. 

“Y-you can't just… You can't say that like it's noth-”

And V1 was out the door.

● ● ●

The smell of coffee, good company, and soft music quietly playing in the background. That was what good mornings were made of. Nice, calm mornings were an indication of a good day ahead, a solid foundation upon which the day's events could be placed. 

Two cups --a regular-sized one and another that was around three fourths larger, a metal straw sticking out of the latter-- sat side by side on the counter as he waited for the coffee to drip. He would've been less patient if he'd had to summon the pre-ground coffee this morning. Thankfully Minos had reminded him last night, so he got to sleep through the worst of the ensuing headache.

…I think we're fine right now. He seems happy enough.

Minos was sitting opposite of him, wearing that fluffy white bathrobe Gabriel had gotten very accustomed to seeing. At least their morning routine hadn't changed much in the past year, with the exception of those few days. That was just how life was sometimes. If only he could get himself to believe that some things just were, with no definitive ‘why’.

“Angel.”

…Stars, Gabriel liked hearing him say that, with the exact tone and cadence of a lov-

We are not ‘lovers’. I’m a guest and he's the host, still. 

…Surely he's only keeping me around for entertainment and to clean this fucking place. And so that he won't lose it entirely.

“Yes?”

He didn't hate how soft he sounded. They both deserved some softness, even if his problems were nothing compared to Minos’. Right?

“Nothing. I simply wished to say that.”

“You can just… do that? Just like that, for no reason other than to say someone's name or nickname?” He looked over at Minos. “Would they not be annoyed at being called for basically no reason?”

Gabriel found this concept fascinating yet a little strange. Humans just… did that? Wasn't it a waste of someone else's time, taking their attention away from something actually important? 

“Wert thou annoyed upon learning I said ‘angel’ for no reason at all?”

Annoyed? Maybe a little, but he'd also been too busy thinking about the way Minos had said it to really care.

“...No?”

“Exactly.”

Was that a way for someone to let the other know that they were thinking of them, and did it make everyone as happy as it did him? Perhaps he could test that.

But not before he got some coffee. Gabriel practically waltzed over to the two cups, and filled them to the top. Minos had recently allowed himself the luxury of putting sugar in his coffee, so Gabriel dropped one cube into the smaller cup, before bringing it to Minos. He then took his own comically large coffee mug, and sat back down in his seat. 

He twirled the straw in the cup, the motion creating a small vortex in the liquid. It was too hot to drink for the time being. 

“Minos.” Gabriel looked up at him. He appeared to also be waiting for his coffee to cool a little, using a teaspoon to make the cube of sugar maybe dissolve faster.

“Hm?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to say that.” He couldn't hide the grin in his tone, not that he really even tried to.

“...Naturally. I suppose I brought this upon myself.” 

Minos sighed a tad too theatrically, a tiny bit too dramatically, for him to really be mad. It seemed he was happy too.

“What, you don't like that?” Gabriel leaned forward a little. “Minos. Minos, Minos, Minos… I have to admit, I quite like saying your name.”

“Thou art easy to entertain, it seems.”

“Alright, alright… I’ll stop.” 

He liked this, he liked being cordial with Minos. When he inevitably would start overthinking again, he'd just have to take a deep breath, think back to this moment, and everything would be alright. In theory.

…Gabriel couldn't help but wonder what the machine was up to. It'd been running back and forth between the palace and somewhere else all of last night, seemingly coming back just to check up on the two of them. Was there something nefarious going on?

Now that he thought about it, a candle holder was missing from the main lounge, as was one of those tall crimson candles. Did the machine..? No, that'd be silly. Though he'd also noticed that a bunch of tea lights --those tiny candles that burned for an hour or two at most-- were gone. Oh, and the fairy lights he couldn't be bothered to take down from the second lounge's chandelier after the winter holidays. Those too.

…I think I know now. Either it likes collecting light sources, wants an inconspicuous way to commit arson, or it’s trying to set up a romantic date for us.

He wasn't sure if he was ready for that last option.

● ● ●

It'd found them in the grand library. They were, to its surprise, getting along for once, so maybe it'd done something right. No, there was no ‘maybe’. This guide it'd bought was actually helping.

V1 was currently in the process of dragging both Gabriel and Minos along through the city ruins. The sun was setting, and based on Gabriel's huffs and sighs, it'd deduced he already knew where this was headed. At least he hadn't tried to run away this time. It'd have to handcuff itself to him if he as much as thought about doing that again.

The guide said that ‘falling in love’ was a gradual process and shouldn't be rushed, but it really didn't want them to dally any longer. It had to ease them both, especially Gabriel, into it slowly, almost painfully slowly. Which was really just maybe a day and half. From getting them to talk to each other like people, to arranging a candlelit dinner for them.

…It couldn't cook, of course, but a candlelit dinner didn't necessarily have to include dinner. It could just be ‘getting them drunk as hell’. Alcohol made people more honest, right? Some also became angry or plain sad, or so it'd read, but it mainly made them relax and open up a bit more easily. It might be a slight issue if it turned out Gabriel didn't like the taste of alcohol, however.

“Machine…” Gabriel groaned rather pathetically. “How far away is this ‘surprise’ of yours supposed to be?”

“It hath been a mere half an hour, angel. Patience.”

That estimation was wrong. It'd been an hour, but V1 reckoned such a time didn't feel as long when in good company. 

“That’s a long time to walk in shoes that suck utter ass, though,” its angel complained, unknowingly adding an another task into V1’s to-do list. It'd make them fit him properly tomorrow.

“How come thou chose to wear them, then?”

“Because they look nice, and I thought we wouldn't go on a hike through the whole damn layer.”

It had warned him that this trip would take a while. Had he not listened, or had he underestimated how long ‘a while’ would be? He didn't seem to know whether ‘soon’ meant ‘in five minutes’ or ‘in half an hour’, if ‘in a bit’ was longer than the time it took for cabbage casserole to cook in the oven, and apparently now how long ‘a while’ was. It'd just have to be more specific in the future.

“Image over comfort. Thou still art one for appearances, I see.”

That comment appeared to have been made in jest, which was good. It didn't want them fighting now.

“Shush, you. I just like looking decent sometimes, even if there's… really no need for that, anymore.”

“Mh… As long as it sparks joy in thee,” Minos replied. “And I do appreciate the effort. Thou look absolutely radiant every day.”

In response, a bit of gold crept into Gabriel's wings, only for it to soon be replaced by a purplish pink. It was unfortunate that observing visual changes wasn't possible with audio files.

…This recording was simply for its own personal use, even if selling it would give V1 viewing access to the emoticon upgrade it'd gotten for the monitor. Gabriel would never get to see its emoticons, though. Only machines were able to buy and utilise the upgrade, so it was practically pointless.

“Machine?”

Damn, he really enjoyed complaining. It didn't mind, of course, since it was kind of cute to hear an archangel whining and complaining nonstop.

“Will this… at least be worth the journey?” Gabriel ended the question by lightly bonking V1’s head with his helmet. He'd been pretty affectionate lately, which it quite enjoyed.

It nodded, earning a soft chuckle from Gabriel. He was himself. He was… happy, excited, and affectionate. Somewhat confident, rather brave, and as bright as stars in the night sky. This was how he was supposed to be, wasn't it?

● ● ●

The machine had taken them to that derelict mall he'd been to before. It took them right past a pharmacy he'd pilfered bandages from, and the bookstore he'd snatched a few books from as an apology gift to Minos.

Gabriel had managed to avoid most puddles of water, until they came across a flooded corridor. He wouldn't wade through knee-deep water even if he got paid, so he and Minos took a slight detour through the second floor, while the machine just swam right through. How convenient.

The two of them walked by a dozen stores, some worse off than others. There were trinket shops. There were jewellery stores, fast food places, bookshops, cafés, clothing shops… So many places he would've loved to visit if they were still up and running. But they weren't, thanks to him.

And there's no point in rebuilding it.

Who was he to decide what had a point and what didn't? Everything was ultimately pointless to him, him and his cursed infinite lifespan. Someone who actually saw a point in continuing to persist should be the one to decide.

“...Minos.” He didn't want to ruin tonight, but his body would not listen.

“Angel, if this is an another apology, I suggest thou refrain from speaking further.”

Oh, that's a first. He doesn't want me to apologise?

“But if I’m… really sorry?”

Gabriel didn't know why he insisted. Shouldn't he have been glad that he didn't have to apologise further, that he didn't have to wonder every time if he'd actually been forgiven?

“Thou hast apologised three-hundred and eighty-six times now, and I have forgiven thee each time.”

He remained silent, and kept on walking alongside Minos. Everything around him seemed so blurry. His chest ached and his feet were like lead, his hands shaking like leaves in the wind as he clasped them together. Was he seriously going to start crying now? Before their… before that thing that the machine had set up for them?

“And frankly, forgiving thee doth not get easier the more often I have to do it, yet I choose to do so each and every time.” Minos kept talking to him, even if he didn't deserve the time of day. “For the sake of thy sanity, consider accepting that forgiveness.”

He didn't respond, he didn't need to. The only words he had left were apologies and pleas for relief from this… this meaninglessness, and he wished not to push it. He didn't need to talk, anyway.

A blurry blue and yellow shape scuttled towards him, metal scraping lightly against the floor tiles. He didn't want to make it worry about him again.

It took him by the hand, and led him into a seemingly dark establishment. The words on the sign at the front were too blurry to read. The machine sat him down at a round table, before fetching Minos, who sat down opposite of him. He guessed that the blurry white shape was him. Why wouldn't it be?

Seconds ticked by, he assumed, until an orange blur appeared at the centre of the table. A candle, probably. But it didn't matter, not to him. It was pointless. This meant nothing in the face of eternity. Just a day among all the other days, an event among other events. 

A hand on his shoulder, and muffled, incomprehensible sounds. Were those even words? He didn't need to understand them to know the speaker was worried.

What the hell was his problem? Today was supposed to be good, but now he'd gone and fucked it up. Like he always did. Calm always preceded the storm, good things came before the bad. And then it'd repeat again. Some said that bad things came before the good, but that was simply untrue.

In the beginning, there was only good. From that good, as pure and perfect as it was, sprouted bad things. Once the bad was banished, the goodness felt pure and perfect again. That good reigned for a time. But then the bad slithered back, and infected the-

After a long bout of bad, good resurfaced from beneath its waves. And then came bad again, then good again, then bad again, and then good again. Then bad, then good, then… 

Was him losing to a mortal creation a good or a bad thing? Good, because it made him think. Bad, also because it made him think. 

Being a weapon had been a comfortable, familiar role. Orders that he knew exactly how to execute (and which he did execute perfectly), rigid schedules that he easily adapted to (and which he did follow perfectly), love that he could accept (and which he did receive when he behaved).

But once a weapon, always a weapon. A dutiful blade, an unbiased executor, a beacon of hope, an obedient servant, a perfect archangel. A broken weapon was still a weapon. The shards of a shattered blade could still injure, they could still kill. Even unarmed hands could kill.

Okay, okay, okay… Breathe. This is not unsalvageable.

He could taste blood in his mouth, probably from biting his tongue. He could smell… well, he could smell the candle, and he could recognise that scent that was so distinctly Minos. He could feel the warmth of the hand on his shoulder, the fabric of his clothes… the pain from his ill-fitting shoes having rubbed the skin of his heels raw. 

He could hear again. His own breathing gradually calming down, a sudden bout of rain lightly tapping against a window, a metallic finger poking his helmet, Minos' voice telling the machine to stop doing that.

…Heh.

His vision was still blurry. So he blinked, and saw a little clearer. The crimson candle was there on the table, and the area surrounding them decorated with those small tea lights. Fairy lights were hanging from the unlit lamp above their table, two bottles of some kind of alcohol stood side by side on a counter with two glasses next to them, and Minos was right in front of him.

Oh boy… Should I say something funny or just be normal for once?

“Uhm… Hi?”

So ‘normal’ route it is.

“Hello, angel.” Minos’ hand moved from Gabriel’s shoulder to gently squeeze his hand. “Dost thou… wish to explain what that was about, or shall we forget about it altogether?”

“Oh, it’s… it's fine. I just thought again.”

Thinking for oneself had so many pros yet just as many cons. It was stressful, yet it was freeing. Some thoughts were shameful, some thoughts crushed his soul, some thoughts made his heart burst at the seams. He had the freedom to choose what to wear for the day, but he had the obligation to choose whether to clean his room and be tired, or not clean his room and feel so filthy just being there. He couldn't say his words came from someone above him when the other party felt insulted, because they were his alone.

“A painful thought, which then made thee spiral?”

“...Mhm.” He couldn't formulate a better response when Minos was… so close. His hands were warm, as opposed to Gabriel's, and the angel almost wanted to lean in and be fully enveloped in his warmth. But that would have to wait.

Their sweet little moment was interrupted by the machine placing the two bottles on the table, along with the glasses. He didn't know much about alcohol, but he could tell it was red and white wine. Where'd it even gotten them, was-

“...Are those from my wine cellar?”

That explains it.

The machine mimicked the reaction one would have when caught doing something slightly bad. All of its hands were behind its back, and it avoided looking at Minos, repeatedly standing on the tips of its ‘toes’ before sinking back down.

“Didst thou at least take these from the older side?”

A small, involuntary laugh escaped Gabriel as the machine frantically nodded. How something made of metal, circuits, and wires could be so akin to those made of flesh was beyond him.

It placed a straw in one of the empty glasses, and pushed it towards him. Then it pulled out that small monitor of its.

*“Red or white?”

“Ah, I don't really… How are they different from each other, aside from the colour?”

I feel like I should know.

*“How don’t you know? You're like ancient.”

Yes, yes, he should've known that. He should've studied the ancient wine scriptures and tattooed the information into his brain. 

“...Please just explain the difference,” Gabriel sighed, “I don't need to be age-shamed.”

*“Major Gabriel L.”

‘L’? What the hell was that supposed to mean? It sounded like something undesirable, though.

*“Red wine is made with the grape skins st-”

“Still there, white usually without.”

He learned something new today, even if it wasn't the answer he was looking for. Did they peel the grapes used for white wine? By hand? No, that sounded pretty inefficient, humans often valued efficiency even to the point of driving individuals to burnout. Thank goodness he'd never experienced that. He'd only ever been so exhausted he went into complete autopilot, and later realised he didn't have any memory of those years when he found himself struggling to piece memories together from fragments of text on official documents and rumours circulated by others. 

“Not the wine-making process, machine. The taste.”

“Then taste them,” Minos responded, back to sitting across the table from him. He should've stayed a little closer for a little longer.

“But I want to know what to expect so I’m not caught completely off-guard. Wouldn't want to waste a whole glass because it tastes like carbonated cough syrup to me, now would we?”

*“Oddly specific.”

It wasn't like he'd never had alcohol, it'd just been a while. A long while. Maybe four or five hundred years, or perhaps longer. It didn't matter that much.

*“Red tastes like berries, maybe leather.”

*“White tastes like citrus, but...”

*“But also like fresh grass?”

The machine must've found some wine encyclopedia, though it seemed very uncertain whether any of the information was actually true. He found it pretty hard to believe himself that a beverage could taste like old shoes or wet sawdust. What's next, white wine that tastes like dead leaves?

“That sounds so pretentious.” Gabriel shifted in his seat, still not managing to get comfortable. “...No offence, Minos.”

“None taken.”

Gabriel, after a moment of pondering, picked up a wine bottle to read its label. He… couldn't comprehend most of these letters. It was in moments like these that he wished he still had even an ember of His Light left in him, because automatically understanding any language was a very useful skill to have. And he kind of wanted to read books that weren’t in English or Latin.

Is this..? This looks a bit like Greek. 

Where would someone even get Greek wine these days? Greece had long ceased to exist (along with every other country humans had decided to make up), not to even mention that they were in Hell of all places. And sure, the bottle looked ancient enough to be a couple centuries old, but still. It felt pretty unreal, to be fair.

…Was it even drinkable anymore?

“Minos? Could you please decipher these mysterious symbols for me?”

He nudged the bottle across the table. Just the sight of the label appeared to bring back some memories, though he wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. Maybe both.

“Oh, this is the sixth and final one he brought me. ‘Twas a bribe, if my memory serves me right. Although it did not work that time.” There was a hint of fondness in his voice. “I cannot comprehend why he would change the container, though, since I am certain ‘tis not some cheaper alternative. He has taste.”

“...He?"

A pop signalled that the bottle was now open. How Minos had managed to open it with his bare hands was beyond him, but he had to admit it was pretty impressive. And he almost wanted to feel those hands around his throat. Almost.

He hadn't answered the question, though. That was probably intentional, so Gabriel didn't push it. He had a pretty good idea of who Minos was talking about.

“B-but also, ‘bribe’? Are you telling me you could be paid off with a few bottles of alcohol, Minos?”

“Of course not. But I did ‘confiscate’ the contraband --to be disposed of later-- and just so happened to leave almost every gate and door in his way unguarded.” Minos poured some of the brownish-red liquid into his glass, before placing the bottle next to the one containing white wine. He then added some-

Is that water ?! I don’t know a lot about wine, but I don’t think that’s… usually how it’s done.

“That just sounds like favouritism.” He hesitantly poured a bit of the red wine into his glass. 

It… does smell pretty good.

“I will not deny thine accusation.” 

Gabriel then took a sip. It was kind of like swallowing a burning coal, if that coal was a liquid, tasted like an old and crusty leather shoe, and also made his mouth feel like the roughest kind of sandpaper there is. And that wasn't even how awful it'd taste without a straw.

“Gh…” He kind of wanted to throw up, but as he reckoned that'd be rude, so he refrained.

“Hm? Is it not to thy liking?”

Minos could probably tell that he didn't like this at all, yet asked the question anyway. Was this some sort of humiliation thing? It'd either get better or worse if he admitted that it tasted horrible.

“N-no, no! It's… it's alright. I’m just not used to… this.”

He'd just… force it down to be polite, and to say that he at least tried it. There wasn't too much left in the glass, anyway.

● ● ●

So this was what its angel was like when inebriated. One arm reaching across the table to grip Minos' hand, head resting on the same arm in a way that would most definitely hurt his back after a while. V1 had moved the candle away just to be safe.

V1 itself was sat on a counter off to the side, starting a new recording at regular intervals so it wouldn’t be too difficult to find a specific moment later. It named each clip accordingly. There was one named ‘First sip’ , and another one called ‘Love confession attempt #12’ , though that latter one wouldn’t be considered a love confession by most, nor the eleven previous attempts. It knew what his intentions were, he just was really bad at this.

After that first glass of red, Gabriel had… Well, first he’d forced down an another glass while probably hoping Minos would just open the second bottle so he could taste that too, before deciding to just open the white wine himself. He then… ended up liking a bit too much. Was this his third glass or fifth? It wasn't quite sure, but it sure as hell hoped angels were immune to alcohol poisoning.

“What are your thoughts on, uhh… birds? Like just in general? And I guess angels too, by extension.”

Gabriel had been asking Minos such things for the past hour or two, questions getting progressively weirder as time went on. First it'd been about his likes or dislikes when it came to books or foods, then about his favourite words in the dictionary, before ending up here.

“...I personally would not put angels in the same category as birds, seeing as the only similarity between them is the feathered wings.” Minos stroked the angel's hand with his thumb, before continuing a little more quietly, “and I suppose the size of their brains.”

That last part was most likely a joke, it deduced. It hoped Gabriel got that as well.

“So mean…” Gabriel complained. He was quite ‘cute’ like this, it had to admit. “But… but like theoretically, if birds and angels were basically the same? What'd your thoughts be?”

It wouldn't have minded him being like this all the time, but that'd be catastrophic for his liver (if he even had one), not to mention his sanity. Constantly using only one brain cell would eventually make the other cells conclude they weren't needed, and the only thing left of him then would be but a shell. It liked his silly little personality too much to let that happen.

“Well… In general, birds are quite fascinating, especially when considering the sheer range of various bird shapes, colours, and sizes.”

“Oh, tell me more.” Gabriel's wings --which had been mainly blue with hints of pink-- were now almost entirely pink. 

…Was someone showing interest in learning about birds that attractive to him?

“I cannot recall the name, but I find the appearance of a certain greenish-blue bird quite aesthetically pleasing.” Minos began as he nonchalantly moved the half-full bottle of red wine out of Gabriel's sight. “It looks rather similar to a peafowl, though its tail feathers are not as impressive.”

It didn't know whether Minos was concerned about the angel’s alcohol consumption, or if he simply wanted to have it all for himself. A good move, though. Once Gabriel's glass was empty, his hand just so happened to wander to the side, only to find the bottle where white wine had once been. Surprisingly enough, he barely reacted to discovering he'd have nothing to drink anymore. 

“Hm… Are its neck and tail feathers like a reddish-orange? ‘Cause I think I know which one you're talking about.”

V1 poured some water into Gabriel's glass, which he automatically took a sip of. He'd probably drink even gasoline if it poured some in, but it refrained. Gasoline wasn't healthy for humans, so it most likely wouldn't be good for angels either.

“Mhm. The feathers on its neck are a darker red, and its tail feathers a bright orange.”

It slowly pushed a water bottle towards Minos from the other side of the table. Sure, his wine was diluted as hell, but drinking some water every now and then was recommended for every single organic being in existence, and he wasn’t an exception.

“Yep, knew it. Himalayan monal,” Gabriel proudly declared. Had he memorised those bird encyclopedias from cover to cover? It couldn’t quite comprehend why someone would memorise something as useless as every single bird species that ever existed, especially since there were no birds in Lust, and it wasn’t sure if any birds on Earth had somehow survived all that fuckery.

“Impressive, angel. Very impressive.”

As Minos stroked Gabriel's hand with his thumb again, V1 could swear it heard its angel purr. He was so easy to please. Just a compliment or two accompanied by some physical affection, and he'd be putty in its hands. 

Though… It would much rather let Minos do all that romantic stuff. It didn't want Gabriel thinking it ‘loved’ him in a romantic sense or anything, since platonic ‘love’ was just as satisfying to it. And romance involved too many delicate emotions. It'd just break his heart if it tried, and a miserable angel didn't make for good company.

It'd set up a near-perfect date for them. An empty restaurant, mood lightning, and wine. The only thing that was missing was food, due to the obvious fact that it couldn't cook. Some plain crackers would've been pretty nice, actually. It could be wrong, as it didn't know how they'd taste.

Now that it thought about it, music could've made this even better. Such a shame it hadn't dragged that phonograph out here. An old-timey music player for two people older than it could ever dream of being, limited only by the fact that replacements for malfunctioning parts would get more difficult to find as time went on. But that was in the distant future.

“Have I ever, um… told you how cute you are?” There it was, love confession attempt number 13. “Like… like this isn't a bit. You're so cute.”

A pause.

“Is that so?”

Minos sounded rather unconvinced, and it could imagine why. He looked… very unusual by human standards, it knew, but by angel standards? It wasn't quite sure what those would be. Did angels even have standards?

“Wait… That word's not strong enough.” The angel played with Minos’ fingers absentmindedly. “You're like, how do I put this… you're… Help me out here, Minos. Or machine. Whichever one of you knows words better.”

“...Thy taste in men is appalling.”

That was just plain self-deprecating. Was this really even Minos, or just some impersonator? Surely the real one wouldn't talk about himself like this.

“Aw, don't say that. You're lovely,” Gabriel cooed, casually interlacing his fingers with Minos’. How bold. “You’re like so, so patient, even when you have to deal with my moody and stubborn ass, and you're… surprisingly funny, especially when I least expect it. And you're so much more… I can't even put it into words.”

Yep, definitely drunk. He'd never even dream of saying that when sober.

“Like seriously, you’re so-”

“Art thou perchance lonely?”

It was now quite obvious that Minos had either deemed himself unlovable in this form, or thought that the both of them were too damn lonely to separate the inherent need to be loved from the craving of romantic love. The kind of love that made life bearable, versus the kind that made an already bearable life even brighter. 

That was just what it'd scanned from a book once, it didn't know whether that had any merit. Was it like getting a new filter or fan when the old one was busted, versus getting an upgraded one even when the old part worked just fine? 

…Emotions were so needlessly complex.

“W-well… Kind of, but this isn't because of that!” Gabriel nearly knocked his glass over when he reached a second hand out to hold Minos’ other hand, but V1 managed to save it. “It's… Okay, maybe it is. I don't know anymore, honestly. My brain's fried.”

“Wouldst thou prefer to talk about this in the morning?”

“Heh… I probably won't have the guts then.”

How self-aware of him. V1 was now seriously considering keeping its angel like this, a bit too happy and more self-aware. But no. It should strive to make him be like that even when not inebriated.

“I shall simply bother thee enough for thee to talk.” 

It would hold him to that.

“Fine, but don't get too mad at me if I get defensive again. Promise?”

“I promise, angel.” Minos finished the last of his glass. “Now… Shall we return home?”

Was that his second glass? At least someone here could drink in moderation, without turning himself into a lovesick angel puddle. He should teach Gabriel that skill.

“Yeah, just… give me a moment.” 

Gabriel, with a sigh, attempted to unstick himself from the table and stand up. He didn't get too far, as he basically collapsed into Minos. That was a pretty common symptom of being too drunk.

“Guess this is an opportunity for you to carry an archangel again, Minos.”

Chapter Text

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d somehow fucked up. While he only had hazy memories of last night, there was something twisting and turning in his guts, and not in a nice way. He hadn't eaten anything in the morning, so it couldn't be that. 

…It’s called a hangover, right? I hate it.

Gabriel was currently sprawled out on the lounge floor, with the machine crouched down next to him and Minos sat on a couch nearby. Every few minutes, the machine lightly poked Gabriel, not ceasing until he took a sip of water. Stars, that tapping was so loud… Like nails being driven into his skull. It took every ounce of strength in him to not break down sobbing. The machine had good intentions, it didn't know it was hurting him by doing that.

With a pained groan, he got up off of the floor and slumped down next to Minos on the couch. At least he was soft, unlike everything else right now. 

“I hope you don't mind if I just…” He nuzzled up a little closer to Minos, wrapping his arms around him. 

“How art thou feeling, angel?”

Minos put away the book he'd been reading --because of course he was reading again-- and gently stroked Gabriel's wing. Oh, he knew just the right thing to do.

“Like utter shit.” He tried not to think about how close they were. “...Don't you?”

Pain somehow made all of his inhibitions and self-imposed rules vanish, most of the time. There were of course times when he tried to stubbornly fight through it, not accepting any form of comfort until he was practically immobilised by the pain. He was trying his best to not do that. Being in agonising pain kind of hurt, who knew.

“Not really, no. Drinking in moderation hath its benefits.”

That was true, he knew. But that white wine had been so damn good, and to be honest, he'd probably stopped using his brain after the first glass.

“But it's also boring.”

Why hadn't Minos stopped him? Did he not care if somebody died of alcohol poisoning, or was it just really funny to see him like that? The latter, maybe. 

“Was that thy first time, by any chance?”

“...Can you shut up? I feel like I got into a fight with a nuclear missile and the missile won,” Gabriel muttered, and realising he sounded pretty rude, continued. “Please?”

He had to be a little nicer if he wanted them to get along. Sometimes he wished that every single one of them could forget everything about what’d happened in the past, and that they could start all over again. But that was a selfish thought to have. That was such a selfish thought to have.

“Of course, angel.”

● ● ●

V1 was back in its den, which was located near the ceiling in the grand library. It'd shoved a couple books into a small gap between the ceiling and top of the bookshelf, giving it a bit more space to chill about, and brought a smallish monitor up there. 

This monitor had much higher resolution than its ‘speech bubble’, so it was perfect for replaying its video clips of Gabriel in a way that was more ‘human’. The only downside was that it couldn't figure out how to make the audio play only in its own head. You see, that monitor had speakers, and while said monitor wasn’t sentient, it insisted on playing the audio despite V1’s best attempts to get that thing to understand that it didn't want to get discovered up here.

It’d had to manually turn the display’s volume way down, surprisingly enough without having to destroy its speakers. Insolent monitors didn't get to talk.

Its random number generator hadn't yet landed on the number of a clip it'd want to watch, so V1 decided to just eavesdrop on whatever conversation its angel and Minos were having. They were getting along, it sounded like, and it wanted to be there to record it when they finally kissed or something. That was what people in love did, wasn't it?

“I… I mean, I do vaguely remember saying that, but… Are you sure I wasn't just too drunk to think coherently?”

Typical Gabriel denial. Or maybe it wasn't denial, and he was just trying to make an almost love confession sound like something people normally said.

“Wouldst thou lie to me about such matters, especially when inebriated?”

It picked up Gabriel letting out a heavy sigh, and then what sounded like metal thunk against something solid. 

“Well… to be honest, yes. When have I not lied?”

“I find myself doubting the accuracy of thy statement.” 

The sound of a book closing, and then a purr that it knew originated from Gabriel. Wing scritches, probably.

“Alright, fine! Maybe I did say that and mean it, but it doesn't mean that I…” Gabriel said between purrs, sticking to his ‘better than any mortal emotion’ persona. “Doesn't mean that I'd admit something like that.”

“Saying that is basically admitting it.”

Technically yes, but also no. A statement like that accompanied by body language that suggested the opposite would be ‘basically admitting it’.

“...Do I seriously have to say it..?”

V1 reckoned he should. It'd be much better to get it off of his chest, so be wouldn't be stuck thinking about the ‘what ifs’ for the rest of time.

“If thou art comfortable with that, angel. We have more than enough time.”

…Silence. A silence that just kept going and going, growing more and more nerve-wracking and anxiety-inducing as time went on. V1 was getting kind of bored, so it checked on the random number generator, which it was delighted to find had chosen a good number. This one was from Heresy.

> Video setting description: The inside of a cathedral, with a large organ in the very back. The colour scheme is mainly red, as is typical for the layer, and is only contrasted by the blue of the angel's wings. A shallow pool of some kind of liquid separates the observer (you) and the stairs leading up to the angel.

> Angel description: The angel named Gabriel is playing the previously mentioned organ, displaying the rather useless but nonetheless fascinating skill of playing an instrument. His hands are shaking slightly, possibly due to the intensity of the emotions bubbling inside, threatening to all spill out. His colours are the same as when the observer (you) was first graced with his presence. 

> Threat level: Slightly higher than that of the previous encounter. 

> Difficulty: Easy, if the observer (still you) pays close attention. Medium, if the observer (always you) is distracted by background processes such as recording the encounter.

> Notes: Punch him in the gut whenever possible. He likes that, and the rush of emotion will distract him for a few seconds.

> Tip of the day: Underskirt video shots will grant more style points! Do with that information what you will. 

This had to be its favourite clip, if not counting the one recorded right after it. His passion, his precise yet downright feral attacks, his elegant yet uncoordinated movements. Each word and action so contradictory. Saying he hates it, yet loving the pain it inflicted. What a strange being he was.

The clip began playing on the display, and the sounds only in its head. Good, the monitor knew its place. 

It enjoyed observing the graceful movements of his fingers on the keys. Note after note, with perfect tempo and velocity, without mistakes or hesitation. It'd go as far as to say he was perfection incarnate, were it a romantic.

Then, one step too close, and the illusion shattered. He slammed his hands down on the keys, and began his monologue. It'd been too busy getting those video style points to really be intimidated. 

Something about the audio seemed a bit off, and it took V1 half a second to realise what was wrong. That damned monitor had decided to play the sounds from its own speakers, blasting his monologue at top volume for the whole Lust layer to hear, ignoring V1’s frantic attempts at pausing the video. Instead, it cycled through nearly every other clip in the Heresy folder.

The monitor had now started spouting his ‘phase two’ lines, and it didn’t even need to see Gabriel to know that he wanted to disappear between the couch cushions right about now. Must’ve been really embarrassing to hear your own disembodied voice laughing like you’ve completely lost it and saying the weirdest shit known to man, while sitting next to the guy you’re trying to woo.

After a bit, it just chose to unplug the display from itself. Why hadn't it done so before? Well, it kind of wanted to keep watching Gabriel clips once the audio was fixed, but guess not. This world truly was a cruel one.

“W-was that… me?” Its angel rarely sounded this flustered, and honestly it kind of seemed like he was close to tears. He wouldn't cry because of some embarrassing words he'd said ages ago, right?

“If it is of any comfort, I am now rather tempted to spar with thee.”

Minos and sparring… Those words went together like a fork and an electrical outlet. He may have mellowed out since it sort of freed him, but by ■■■ if that man didn't hit like a train. 

“...Just a moment. I need to find the culprit.” 

V1 peeked out just a bit, and noticed Gabriel looking around in its general direction, hands on his hips. His wings were mainly orange with hints of gold and pink, painting a pretty good picture of what he was feeling. Maybe it should run?

It settled on remaining where it was, since its angel probably wouldn't hurt it too bad. If he did, it could just hurt him back worse.

“Machine, it'd be really nice if you'd reveal yourself. I don't want to have to drag you out.” There was a hint of playfulness in his voice, which made this feel a lot more like hide and seek than anything.

“Okay, fine, I’ll be honest. I’m definitely going to whack you with a broom for that.”

That sounded more like him. He'd probably make it do chores for the rest of the day as punishment, like scrubbing the floors or dusting the very delicate antiques. The former was too repetitive and taxing on its joints, while the latter required such precision it'd have to use the ‘maximum efficiency’ setting, meaning that it'd require a refuelling basically every minute. Its angel was indeed merciless when it came to ‘machine discipline’.

“Found you.”

Without thinking, V1 immediately kicked Gabriel in the face when he managed to scale up the bookshelf and peek into its den. He didn't fall, fortunately, but it did catch him off-guard. 

“H-hey..! What was that for?” 

Oh, he knew exactly what he'd done. It pulled out that smaller monitor of its, figuring it'd just be easier to use words this time.

*“You sneaked up on me.”

“I didn't-” Gabriel stopped himself, and shook his head. “No, that doesn't matter. What I want to know is… How did you do that just now? Why do you have recordings of my voice..?”

*“They're mainly videos.”

That was a lie. It mainly had audio clips of his voice, as those took up a little less space and there wasn't much to look at in those videos anyway. But files of him in general? 1120 pictures, nine videos, and 60 audio files. 

“...Why do you have videos of me?”

When he'd found out that it had pictures of him saved, he was flattered. How were videos any different?

*“Combat analysis, obviously. I needed to-”

*“Needed to know exactly how you fight.”

That was a logical enough explanation. It had needed to know exactly how he fought, but it could do all those calculations mid-combat. All it needed to know was that he used swords, could fly and teleport, and his weaknesses were nails and having something like a cord wrapped around his throat. That last tactic always gave it at least five seconds more to heal.

“Fair enough, but… You still have them? Isn't that, y'know, a bit…”

What's wrong with having the best Gabriel archive in existence? The terminals didn't have anything comparable to this, even Heaven itself probably didn't have this many files on their golden boy. V1 was the universe's leading ‘Gabriel’ expert, that was for a fact.

*“Do you want to see Minos kick my ass?”

This archive was probably more like a museum, and museums were meant to be visited and its exhibits observed, right?

“H-huh? I mean, if you're offering, then I guess I could sit through that.” Gabriel began scaling back down the bookshelf. “Only if you bring that… screen thing down yourself.”

● ● ●

He knew it was good at going against impossible odds and coming out on top, but… It was interesting to witness, even from such a small a screen, with the video recorded from a first person point of view. 

It pierced flesh, it sawed away chunks, it burned meat. It took the machine maybe 15 seconds at most to tear down what'd stood for decades if not centuries. A prison, a cell, a front-row seat, a miniature Hell. He wasn't allowed to forget the part he'd played in its creation.

Gabriel looked at Minos from the corner of his eye, only to notice he wasn't even looking at the screen. Was it bad memories, or..?

The machine lightly punched Gabriel's shoulder to get his attention back on the video. He obliged, even if he was kind of dreading what he'd see.

Maybe he should've dreaded what he'd hear instead. It started off nice enough, before… Stars, why did he get butterflies in his stomach at hearing Minos say something so violent, something so brutal? He ignored the warmth in his face.

Certainly had reason to be scared back then, huh?

After taking just a few hits --and getting in none itself-- the machine began a hasty retreat. He would've, too. The ‘HUD’ (as the machine called it) also displayed its health, and at the moment it'd fled, its health had been exactly 1 out of 100. Gabriel was pretty sure that was bad.

And that was where this video ended. Gabriel let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and leaned back on the couch. His face still felt warm just thinking about those words.

My ‘gore shall glisten before the temples of man’... I’m kind of scared but also impressed. And then scared a little more.

“...Damn.” That was all he could say about the video without sounding weird. “That's just… wow.”

He could almost see it, smell it, taste it. He could almost feel it. The taste and scent of his own blood, the jagged rubble beneath him, the throbbing in his head, the hands around his throat, the sight of nothing but Minos taking up his entire field of view… Strangulation was such an intimate way to end somebody.

A tap on his helmet brought him back to reality. It was the machine interrupting his sweet daydream, figuratively yanking him back to reality by the collar of his shirt. It was holding that small monitor of its again.

*“Your wings are pink and you're blushing.”

His wings, pink? Impossible. Thinking about something like that wouldn't make him feel such a filthy emotion, he was better than that- 

They were pink. Entirely pink, though that soon gave way to orange and gold as he scrambled to save face a little. 

“W-what? No! No, they're… it's just…” Pink replaced the gold again upon him realising there was really no denying it. He was undeniably weird about getting killed, preferably in a needlessly painful and drawn out way.

*“Hehe.”

“They're not pink! They're…” They were literally pink, he wasn't sure why he kept insisting that they weren't.

He could swear he picked up a faint chuckle from Minos. Great, did he find this entertaining too? What a great way for those two to bond, bonding over his humiliation… 

It’s fine. They probably just think this is a little silly, nothing more. 

…It is a little silly. 

Gabriel let out an even heavier sigh than before, now sitting slouched on the couch. His back could complain all it wanted. This was a very comfortable way to sit, and it made his current mood extremely obvious to anyone who dared to look his way.

*“Next video?”

They'd been alternating between the machine's videos of him and Minos, and now was time for a clip of Gabriel. He hoped it wouldn't be an another one where he was trying to kill it.

“Fine… It better be a lighter one this time.”

● ● ●

This clip was from when it'd shown Gabriel the first origami flower it'd managed to fold without tearing the paper. He'd been in the middle of cleaning the main lounge, arranging the books in a bookshelf by the author instead of just alphabetically. Finding the next book in a series would be easier this way, he'd said.

> Video setting description: The inside of a lounge, with a fireplace on the longest wall. The wall on the right has three large windows overlooking the city, and the wall on the left is covered entirely by a large bookshelf, and a couch sits in the middle of the room, facing the fireplace. 

> Angel description: The angel named Gabriel is standing in front of the bookshelf, dusting off book covers and sorting them in piles. He is wearing his signature skirt (which he insists isn’t really a skirt), a white sweater with a loose-fitting blouse of the same colour underneath, and fuzzy light blue socks. His wings are a contented blue.

> Threat level: None.

> Notes: -

> Tip of the day: Grab him by the waist.

V1 had been quite curious as to what would happen if it were to follow the tip, so it’d done so without really thinking about how he'd react. He'd been completely absorbed in his work, humming a tune it couldn't quite recognise, oblivious to the impending waist-grabbing. 

It'd never heard him scream so loud. Its angel hit the ceiling with a loud thunk, before falling to the floor with a slightly softer thud. He did get up eventually, but only after cursing V1 out and getting it to swear it wouldn't scare him like that again, with the threat of him restricting its access to his blood.

“...You said it'd be a cute video,” Gabriel sighed. “This one's just embarrassing.”

*“It’s you so it has to be cute.”

“Shut up.”

V1 moved onto the next clip. This one was from Heresy again, recorded right after his second defeat at its hands. It replayed this video so frequently it could draw each and every frame without looking and turn that into a flipbook.

> Video setting description: The inside of a cathedral, with a large organ in the very back. The room is dark, save for the slight glow emanating from the angel. Nothing but air separates the observer (you) and the angel.

> Angel description: The angel named Gabriel is on the floor, laying on his back. He is probably a little delirious from blood loss and very delirious from getting his shit kicked in. The observer (you) has chosen not to describe the angel further.

> Threat level: None. 

> Notes: -

> Tip of the day: Why is there nothing under his skirt? A shadow that dark is not natural. What are his legs fucking attached to????

It kind of hated those useless questions that the ‘tip of the day’ threw at it. V1 didn't need to know why his skirt did that in battle but not outside of it.

…Was it that only one specific skirt could do that? Not that it mattered at all.

“That's not cute either, machine..! I’m having like the biggest crisis of my entire life right there.”

The crisis part was true, but it was also cute to see him trying to figure out his emotions, to see him act so differently from how he did before. To see what he thought himself to be fall apart like a house of cards.

*“Keep watching. It gets better.”

“I know what happened, I was literally there-” Gabriel was interrupted by his own purrs as V1 began petting his wing. “T-that's such a dirty trick, you… you…”

It continued playing the video. Covered in mainly his own blood, probably seeing double, emotions that wildly contrasted each other swirling in his chest. V1 had once tried to simulate how it assumed he’d felt at that moment. That turned out to be a pretty big mistake, as it had to reboot itself and pull a few hundred Gabriel pictures out of the recycling bin before its system could remove them entirely. ‘Auto-delete unnecessary files’ wasn’t something it’d realised it should turn off if it wanted to preserve footage of its angel. Weren’t videos for combat analysis useful?

The Gabriel in the video staggered to his feet and bid it goodbye, for now. From its angle it’d looked like he blew it a kiss, though it hadn’t figured that out until it’d seen the gesture in some human movie and connected the dots. Though that probably hadn’t been his intention. 

“...Minos?” 

“Hm?”

Minos hadn't made a single sound in the past hour, so V1 was a little surprised he'd done so now. Was it a situation similar to how vampires had to be invited in so they could enter a house? Though that comparison kind of sucked.

“Doesn't it feel a bit weird to… see me like that?”

It assumed he was referring to how he alternated between ‘rabid dog’ and ‘wet cat’ modes. These days, those modes were more like ‘slightly irritated cat’ and ‘affection-hungry puppy’, a change which it found pretty interesting.

“Mh… Not really. But it is rather fascinating, to witness an archangel fall apart in such vivid detail.”

Watching somebody break was quite fascinating, even to an existence like V1. It hadn't gone into their first encounter with the intention of tearing him to pieces and then putting him back together. It'd gone into it to kill. Even in their second encounter, it didn't face him again due to any sort of emotions or feelings, it faced him again to finish the job. The third time was a little different.

“...That's a jab at me, wasn't it.”

Its angel always did tend to assume the worst. That every word was an insult towards him, that every action that hurt was intended to kill him, that every silent moment meant that the other person was mad at him. It would've been adorable if it didn't affect his relationships so greatly.

“Not everything is an insult, angel.” 

“Yeah, yeah, assume everything’s done in good faith unless proven otherwise. That's easier said than done.” 

Perhaps. But trying was better than doing nothing, at least in most situations. Trying to sleep was better than not sleeping, a bite of food was better than no food at all, and washing your face was better than not showering.

● ● ●

Now it was just showing off the hundreds of pictures it had of him. Gabriel wasn't sure if he should feel honoured or put off, as some seemed to be taken without his knowledge. He didn't know if it got anything out of storing those pictures, like some sort of machine-serotonin or something, but he wasn't going to tell it to stop taking them. It kept the thing occupied, so why not? 

The current ‘folder’ it was going through only had close-up shots of his helmet. They all looked pretty similar, with his helmet distorted by the lens and colours by the light of its optic. He reckoned it would've deleted these pictures if it considered them anything less than perfect.

Who knew that an unstoppable killing machine could be so… human.

*“Pick a number 1-18.”

Oh, it wanted him to pick so that he couldn't complain about it choosing to show something embarrassing. Clever.

“12, maybe?”

His response made it pause for a good while. Should he not have chosen that number? How the hell was he supposed to know he shouldn't, especially if it hadn't told him?

*“Minos. Pick a number 1-18.”

So it completely disregarded his answer? The audacity, to first ask him and then ignore his response. Maybe he should start teaching it proper manners.

“H-hey! What's wrong with the number I chose?” He protested this injustice with all the anger he could muster, which wasn't a whole lot. 

*“We went through it already.”

“...We did?” He couldn't recall the contents of the folder, but if the machine was so sure, then it had to be true. “I… I think I need a little break. My head honestly feels like it's full of rocks.”

“A headache, I presume?”

Gabriel usually got a bit of a warning about ten minutes in advance if he was going to have a headache. He’d taken to complaining to Minos about it, who suggested that maybe there was a connection between his headaches and his head feeling weird before them. It was nice of him to remember such things.

“Not yet, but I’ll have one if I keep staring at that damn screen.” 

He could hear basically all of his joints crack in unison when he got up, though it wasn't as painful as it sounded. It was to be expected as he hadn't really moved from the couch in hours.

*“Ancient.”

Yes, he knew he was old, but this body wasn't. It wasn't like it had aged a day since he’d been created. He had been created perfect, molded into exactly what he needed to be for his role. But what good was perfection now? He was imperfect and deeply flawed, like some sort of mortal. And that was supposed to be okay.

“Shut up. I do my morning stretches diligently every day, unlike somebody.” He glanced at Minos, and continued before the other could respond. “And if you say that you technically don't need to, I will shove that monitor-”

The machine elbowed him in the side, which kind of hurt, since it did so with three elbows. This was a clear signal that he maybe should shut up. No, he definitely should shut up.

Right, I’m supposed to be nice to him if I want to… have any sort of chance.

Chapter Text

He'd never lost a bet that had such high stakes before. Sure, there were those bets with himself, back then. Like whether they'd give the five lashes he'd requested, or go a little overboard. He’d almost always bet on the latter. Sometimes he was right, sometimes he wasn't.

…He’d felt bad for those who followed his request to a T. They often didn't seem like they wanted to do it, which was most obvious with those who only gave him three or four.

I’d love to make it up to them somehow, but I’m… not welcome home. Haven't been for a while now.

“Machine, how am I even… supposed to put this on?”

But the most recent bet that he'd lost (a mere five minutes ago), the stakes on that had been ridiculously high. If the machine lost, it would have to actually learn some manners, and if he lost, he'd have to wear that stupid maid dress.

The bet had been on whether Minos would enter the kitchen at exactly eight in the morning, or a few minutes later. Gabriel had guessed the latter. Now that he thought about it, it was pretty obvious that the first option was the only correct choice. If he ever asked Minos to wake him up at ten if he wasn't up by then, the guy would be there at exactly ten o'clock gently nudging him awake. A sign that he cared, the machine reckoned.

*“Hold on. I’ll help.”

Of course, Gabriel could've declined to put on this damn thing at any point, but he had honour. He made a bet, and he'd bear the consequences. And he looked stunning in a dress.

At least the dress reached a bit under his knees and the top part only had a small heart-shaped ‘window’ in the middle of the chest. It also had an open back, which he assumed was why the machine had chosen this particular dress. Such a relief that he didn't have to shove his wings through some holes the size of an average onion.

Then there were the stockings, apron, gloves, and… He'd have no energy left for anything else if he had to put all this on every day. Hell, putting on regular clothes was a chore, too. He had to first gather the energy to put on a bathrobe, then haul ass to the kitchen, and then gather more energy from coffee so he'd maybe be able to put on normal clothes an hour or two later.

*“Put these on yourself.”

The machine handed him the white stockings, which he ‘begrudgingly’ put on. He didn't really hate this. This was a way to bond, right? It didn't matter if he had to do something a little embarrassing, as long as the machine stayed around.

*“Good boy. Now stand up again.”

“Don’t ‘good boy’ me,” Gabriel huffed, but stood up nonetheless. “I’m not a dog.”

On second thought, he didn't necessarily mind being called a ‘good boy’. It was just that those words were often accompanied by actions that made him feel… uncomfortable, when not coming from the machine.

Why doesn't Minos ever call me that? We'd be best buddies by now if he started off with that.

…Wait, was that a garter?

His wingtips flushed pink as the machine moved the hem of the dress up, so that it could fasten the band of ruffled fabric around his thigh with a ribbon. How bold of it. 

He'd read about human fashion a while back, and apparently garters were meant to hold stockings up, as were garter belts. The machine unfortunately hadn't found any of the latter that fit him, so he supposed this would do. Though it did make him think of wedding garters.

“...No pictures, machine, or I'm tearing out that eye of yours.”

The machine gave him a thumbs up with its only free hand, the green one. He was kind of jealous of its abundance of arms, honestly, for multiple reasons. One, it could multitask much better. Two, it could carry more things at once (not that it ever did, that was his job). Three, it could give better hugs. Four, it could… He only had three reasons.

Gabriel put on the white gloves, which just barely reached his elbow. They were probably a size too small, but beauty required sacrifice, did it not?

*“Now put on the cat ears.”

The machine pulled out a headband with fluffy cat ears attached to it. There was also a cute little bow at the base of both ears, and a small bell. They jingled a little when the machine waved that accursed contraption in front of him.

“What? No! You said nothing about any cat ears.” He crossed his arms, and glared at the horrific accessory. “And besides, they wouldn't even stay on properly.”

*“Glue them on.”

He didn't mind this whole dress-up thing they had going on, but cat ears were a bit too much. The only visible ‘animal-like’ features he wanted to have were his wings. Though maybe birds were ‘angel-like’, and as such his wings didn't count as an ‘animal-like' feature.

“I am not putting on the cat ears.”

*“You'll get bonus points for being brave.”

It really was insistent. Did it have a thing for angels in weird human apparel, or did his obvious discomfort simply fuel its curiosity?

“I’ll still have to decline.”

*“May I know why?”

The machine put the cat ears back into whatever box it'd dug them out of, and smoothed out some wrinkles on Gabriel's dress while awaiting his response. 

“Because I don't want to wear them.”

Is that reason enough? I hope that's reason enough.

*“Oh. Okay.”

*“You want a collar, though? The bell one.”

“Preferably not,” he muttered. While answering questions was a bit tiresome, he appreciated it asking. It showed that it cared, probably.

*“Alright. Anything else you don't want?”

Oh? It… does care. It cares a lot, it seems.

Why did his heart ache at such a simple response? It was basic decency to ask something like that, it was the minimum amount of kindness that anyone deserved. 

“No, I… I think everything else is fine.” Stars, why did he stutter like that? It’d think something was wrong. “...Thank you.”

● ● ●

V1 was in the grand library again, but this time not in its ‘den’. It was sitting cross-legged on the couch, with Minos next to it, the both of them intently observing Gabriel. Its angel. Maybe his, too.

The room was bathed in soft sunlight, save for the occasional clouds passing by outside. It was a scene which some would probably compare to a dream. Warm like fresh coffee, hazy like morning mist, fluffy like scrambled eggs, cosy like a blanket nest. That was how one poem it'd read put it.

Its angel was currently mopping the floor, quietly humming a tune that it recognised to be one of those that they listened to on good mornings. This’d be a good day, hopefully. At least it'd started off like one.

Not a page of the book in Minos' hand had been flipped ever since they'd entered the room, as he'd been too busy staring at Gabriel to read. V1 didn't mind. It had also been staring at him the entire time, watching how his dress flowed with each graceful move.

He was good at cleaning. Meticulous, persistent, and had a keen eye for detail. The way in which he mopped the floor was almost mechanical. Wrists bent at the exact same angle with each alternating move, first to the left and then to the right, then to the left again. He remembered which parts of the floor he'd already mopped, even if they had already dried. He got every piece of dust and grime from every corner. He dipped the mop in the bucket of water at regular intervals, after five sweeps to the left and five to the right. 

It could simulate the overwhelming scent of citrus that had to be in the air. Or maybe it was floral instead? Perhaps it should've read the label.

Just staring at its angel in relative silence was kind of boring, so it decided to discuss its thoughts on Gabriel with Minos. He always had some insightful commentary.

V1 pulled out its pretty beat-up looking monitor. It would've assumed these things to be at least a bit more sturdy, but they apparently couldn't take a few short falls onto a hardwood floor.

*“He’s got the squishiest thighs.”

“Mhm? Is that so?” 

Starting off strong, excellent. Minos appeared intrigued by its comment, which it normally would've found worrying but currently didn't. This guy wasn't a threat to its access to Gabriel.

*“Yep! I got to touch them.”

And it got to see areas of his body that were usually obscured by clothing, clothed for no reason other than to hide the ‘flaws’ of his form. It found him visually pleasing regardless. They didn't add to or take anything from him, they were just there. 

It'd refrained from any pictures, as per his request. Not pushing someone's very reasonably set boundaries was basic decency.

“Are they as squishy as one would assume from sight alone?”

What a wonderful question. V1 enjoyed calculating things like this, like how squishy the world's squishiest thighs actually looked. If thigh squishiness was a scale from one to ten, and the visual thigh squishiness-

“What are you two fucking talking about..?”

Gabriel had stopped mopping and was now staring at them, his puffed-up wings a mix between gold and orange. He had probably guessed their topic already.

In response, it took a picture of him. Its angel froze for a moment, standing perfectly still, the shutter's click much louder than usual. 

“Fine… Keep gushing over me.” Gabriel returned to mopping. “I’m just so adorable in this dress.”

“Cease with the sarcasm, angel.” 

Its angel's wings took on a gold and pink hue now, and V1 could pick up a quiet ‘I'm not adorable’.

“That is merely thine own opinion. ‘Tis not vanity to admit that thou art stunning, maid dress or not.”

“Do you usually flirt with maids? That's inappropriate on more levels than I can count, Minos,” Gabriel replied, flicking a few water droplets onto Minos. It assumed he was joking. “Think of the power dynamics of that, they're so skewed.”

“Doth maids in Heaven usually talk back?” 

From what it knew, there were no maids in Heaven. It couldn't be certain, though, since Minos very well may know something about Heaven's inner workings. Perhaps it should ask him.

“...When I next bake something, you’re not getting a crumb of it.” 

> Truthfulness analysis: Lie (100%)

“Thou art heartless, and thy punishments unjust and cruel.” 

“Alright, alright. You'll get just one fourth of the batch instead of the usual half,” its angel relented. “I’m feeling merciful today.”

● ● ●

This was a once-in-a-lifetime chance, and he intended to take full advantage of it. Gabriel had gotten permission to deep-clean Minos' bedroom, the whole thing, but on one condition. He had to be under strict supervision and ask for permission each and every time he began cleaning the next spot.

He understood. It had to be nerve-wracking to let somebody into such a personal space, not knowing how they'd treat each prized possession and treasured artifact. Not knowing what they'd even think about them. Whether they thought him a sentimental fool clinging onto the good old days and yearning for things that had long passed, or maybe a self-torturing idiot keeping things around to remind himself of how spectacularly he'd ‘failed’.

Typical, thinking he's the one to blame.

Gabriel was currently on his hands and knees, in the process of scrubbing the floorboards. He'd been correct in assuming that Minos hadn't cleaned in here even once. There had to be dust and dirt from centuries ago still in the gaps on the floor, in the cracks on the walls, and on each piece of furniture. 

…It’s not his fault. 

He could've asked me to come clean this room ages ago, though. I don't think I would've declined.

Minos was sitting in an armchair and intently observing him. Perhaps he should've seen it as a compliment, being considered a potential threat to those precious keepsakes. The gaze burning into his back didn't falter for a nanosecond.

The machine was perched on the armrest next to Minos, seemingly having some sort of conversation with him. Gabriel kind of wished he could see its little monitor to know what it was saying.

They better not be talking about my looks again. Seriously, I’m not that good-looking. 

Despite calling himself ‘stunning’ and all that, Gabriel thought himself mediocre at best. The attack dog named Gabriel wasn’t concerned with his looks, but the disgraced archangel named Gabriel was, and the latter was the only thing he could be considered anymore. Barely. There was no ‘beacon of hope’, no ‘Righteous Hand’, no ‘Might of-

There was only ‘disgraced archangel’ Gabriel, and he was currently scrubbing the floors for a man he’d killed, while wearing a damn maid dress. And the worst part was that he didn’t mind. He didn’t mind this whole thing, even when his old self would’ve found this humiliating beyond words. 

He was happy just cleaning a room in a silly outfit. No deadlines or need to rush things, just a monotonous task that didn't necessarily even demand perfection, he just wanted to leave this room spotless.

The least I can do is be useful.

His floor-scrubbing came to a halt when he came across a dozen paintings leaning against a wall, all facing away as if the person who placed them there didn't want to view them. A small peek wouldn't hurt, right?

…I get why he doesn't want to see them. I don't think I could either.

The paintings, each and every one of them, depicted Minos before that… unfortunate murder incident. Gabriel stifled any physical reaction he was going to have. It would do no good to break down mid-cleaning session, especially when he wasn't entitled to such a reaction.

“Minos?” He needed to be nice about this. “May I… take these into storage?”

The momentary silence felt almost deafening. Gabriel figured it’d be a rather difficult decision, or… maybe not. He really didn’t know how Minos’ mind worked. Maybe he’d been planning on hauling these paintings off to who-knows-where, or maybe he wanted them to remain right where they were. To torture himself a little more.

“At thy leisure.”

Oh, that was easy.

Gabriel reckoned it’d be easiest to first put the paintings into a few cardboard boxes, each one wrapped in bubble wrap or something similar to minimise any potential damage. But where’d he even find cardboard boxes? 

“Uh… Machine?”

The machine perked up upon being called, and scurried over as if he'd just said he'd let it bleed him dry. Today unfortunately wouldn't be its lucky day.

“Would you happen to know where a certain clueless maid could find some cardboard boxes?” He decided to play the ‘innocent and ditzy maid’ card, if only for laughs. They all needed a bit of a laugh.

It made an exaggerated ‘thinking’ gesture, the lower lid of its ‘eye’ moving up. So… it knew but wasn't going to reveal this sacred knowledge that easily. 

What could a blood-fuelled murder machine possibly want in exchange for such information..?

“...Let me guess. You only dispense information for a quarter pint of blood?”

Shaking its head, the machine played with the frills of his apron. He’d grown to not mind a little unprompted physical touch.

“Half a pint?”

Another headshake. It was driving a hard bargain, truly.

“A whole pint, then?”

Frustrated with his seeming idiocy, the machine pulled out its small display again. He… might've forgotten what most of its gestures meant now that it could ‘talk’. 

*“A picture. Strike a pose, maid boy.”

“...Strike what pose? I don't… I don't know any-” 

Instead of responding, the machine took a step back and just snapped a picture. Just like that, without warning, not giving him time to look anything other than stupid. 

“You're the worst,” he sighed a bit too dramatically. “I… I hate you so much.”

● ● ●

It wasn't built for carrying cardboard boxes full of fragile paintings, yet here it was, carrying cardboard boxes full of fragile paintings. V1 wasn't quite sure how its angel had managed to convince it to do this. One minute it was hauling some folded-up boxes back to Minos' bedroom, and the next it was hauling the now-full ones to an unused room.

They had to break the lock to get in. There had been a thick layer of dust on everything, so from that it’d deduced this room had been out of use for a while. Paintings lined the walls and formed heaps on the floor, with no care put into keeping them intact, almost as if a certain someone had not cared at all.

V1 found it hard to imagine Minos not caring for works of art, especially paintings depicting events of the past, people of the past. It'd seen copies of a few paintings in some buildings it'd explored. Wouldn't seeing their faces motivate one to live their life to the fullest, when the subjects of the paintings couldn't? 

But what did it know? It only kept existing because it doubted that there would be an another Gabriel in whatever sort of afterlife machines had. Though there probably wasn't anything after ‘death’.

…Where did angels go after death? Would they completely cease to exist, ‘soul’ and all, or would they leave behind an empty shell, like a machine, for any bodiless existence to make their own? Could that kind of existence even be called an angel anymore, if the body's original possessee was gone? It decided to ask him when it got back, which was… right about now.

Gabriel was carefully placing the last few paintings in a box, using so much bubble wrap that even V1 considered it wasteful. It knew he just wanted to show that he was worthy of Minos' trust.

But now, for the question that was burning a hole in its circuits. It decided to ask before Gabriel could shove a box into its hands again.

*“What happens when an angel dies?”

Its angel must've read the question at least five times before remembering how to speak again, though he still struggled to recall the basics of forming coherent sentences. Perhaps it should've left the question for another day.

“W-what happens when an angel dies..? Why would you…” Gabriel sputtered. “Why are you asking that, exactly?”

*“Just curious.”

That was true, it was just curious. It kind of wanted to know what would've happened to its angel if it had done what it was supposed to do, if it hadn't temporarily severed its connection to its original two arms. Its ‘muscle memory’ would've executed him in an instant.

“Uhm… Depends on how they die, I guess?”

That was a pretty unsatisfactory answer, so it kept pushing.

*“Please elaborate.”

“Well, those with a connection to His Light wouldn't die in the first place, no matter how hard you try.” Once Gabriel began, talking about the subject got a lot easier. “They just keep regenerating. You remember that, right? Our first… what should I call it, encounter?”

It nodded, and prompted him to keep talking. It needed to know what'd happen if he were to perish right now.

“Oh, and those without? I think they'd… we'd die like any mortal.”

Its angel wouldn't die like a mortal, would he? That'd be deeply disappointing, for both it and him, to go quietly and probably painfully.

“Unless they have a lot of unfinished business, in which case they would come back as…” Gabriel gestured vaguely towards Minos.

Interesting, he certainly seemed to have a truckload of things unfinished and debts unpaid. He wouldn't get away from those. He wouldn't get away from it.

“Anyway! Could you be a darling and move this last box for me?” Gabriel held the cardboard box up towards it. “I’ll clean your joints extra thoroughly tomorrow.”

While V1 could clean its joints by itself, it liked having Gabriel’s attention on it for extended periods of time. Mainly because that meant he wouldn't be wallowing in his misery all by his lonesome, but also because caring for those close to him seemed to make him happy, and making him happy was its main goal.

It grabbed the box, gave its angel an optic-on-helmet bonk, and dashed off. It'd set a record this time.

● ● ●

…Almost done.

So far, Gabriel had scrubbed the floor, relocated some paintings, changed the bedsheets, and washed the windows. Oh, and he did clean the attached bathroom too.

The only thing he had left was change the curtains and maybe figure out how to deal with the mirror situation. There was a large, ornate mirror hanging above a dressing table, covered with a sheet for reasons which took Gabriel embarrassingly long to figure out.

“Minos, should I haul this into storage too?” Asking never hurt anybody. Well, except for him, back then.

“The mirror? It shall remain where it is now.”

There wasn't even an ounce of hesitation in that, which caught him a little off-guard. Gabriel would've expected him to at least think about it.

“...If you're certain.”

Onto the next task, then. 

Gabriel fetched a stepladder and got to removing the old curtains. Once a rich purple, they had been bleached a pale lavender by the sun, and not in a very pretty way. It was like they’d been closed every day for the past year or so, with the edges still vibrant and centre faded. Oh, and the dust. The curtains were practically 90% dust and 2% curtain, with the remaining 8% consisting of all dirt and grime other than dust.

Minos seemed positively miserable. Sure, he usually had that air about him, but this was a bit too much. Was it the fact that Gabriel had moved the paintings he could torture himself with? Just a glance, and he’d remember. Gabriel did, too, but his grief couldn’t compare to Minos’.

…I need to make him happy, but I don’t even know where to begin.

Before long, he’d changed the first set of curtains. He intended to leave them open, but upon moving onto replacing the second set, he noticed Minos had already closed the first. He really didn’t want sunlight, did he? Or maybe it was the view he didn’t want to even accidentally lay his eyes upon.

Probably the latter.

He knew he should’ve felt worse than he did right now. He’d ruined this man’s entire afterlife and more, yet here he was, somewhat healing when he should’ve been in constant agony. He should be trying to make up for things, yet he kept getting told he was forgiven already. That wasn’t enough. He’d kill everyone still in existence if it would make Minos happy, even if it’d only make up for a fraction of a fraction of the damage he’d done. Hell, he’d take himself out of the picture if that was needed. 

Though he was pretty sure Minos wanted to keep him around, if only for company and maybe an ounce of physical contact. Maybe Minos would ask more of him if he wasn’t so damn considerate of Gabriel’s feelings and boundaries, so unwilling to just thoroughly break him. That damned basic human decency of his.

Once done with the curtains, Gabriel plopped down on the floor next to the armchair which Minos was sat upon. The machine --which had been perched on the backrest for at least half an hour now-- bonked his helmet to check if he was still alive, which he was. For now.

“So, Minos… Anything you want to get off your chest?”

A question like that would let him choose whether he wanted to answer or not. Dead ends made Gabriel himself immediately get defensive, so he didn't want to force Minos into one.

“Not necessarily.”

I would say that too, I reckon.

“Alright. I’ll be right here if you want to talk, though,” Gabriel replied. “Since I’m done with cleaning and all.”

“I did not witness thee dust off the chandelier.”

“...Ah, whoopsie. Guess I forgot about that.” He didn't make any move to get up, even as he knew he probably should. The possibility of there still being dust somewhere bugged him.

Minos would talk either when the silence got too much or he was ready. Gabriel could wait all eternity, he was good at that. He could wait right there for minutes, hours, even days. Weeks or months if he had to.

“Thou still remain seated.”

“That I do.”

More silence, more time to think about whatever. Maybe he'd make a proper meal after this. They hadn't had dinner in what felt like weeks, because he couldn't be bothered to bring the required ingredients into existence and Minos didn't want to cause him any unnecessary headaches. 

“Art thou considering getting up?”

“Mh… Nope.” He looked up at Minos, who refrained from returning his gaze. Rude.

A bit more silence. He was getting pretty comfortable with listening to just his own and Minos' breathing. The machine was quiet as always, observing this strange organic being behaviour with the curiosity of a cat seeing a half-full glass on the edge of a table. 

He doubted he'd get anywhere with this today, surprisingly enough not because of his own behaviour. It wasn't him that wasn't responding this time. It wasn't him that curled up and hid away in his safe little bubble, or unsafe little bubble if he was in that kind of a mood.

“Anything you want for dinner?”

A normal question this time. Food was a good way to get one's mind off of things, whether it be good or bad food. With bad food, one would be too busy wondering how anything could taste so foul to think about the past. With good food, one would only be thinking about the mouthwatering aroma, exquisite taste, and texture that melts in one's mouth.

“Thou need not-”

-trouble thyself with such. I’m aware. I’ll trouble myself with it anyway.

“Alright, you're getting the most fucked up risotto you've ever had.” Gabriel got up off of the floor, and leaned up against the armchair a little. “You want any prawns in it?”

This bout of silence was the easiest to handle, and lasted the shortest amount of time. He wasn't sure how into seafood Minos was, but if the bit of black goop dripping down the man's chin (which he promptly wiped away) was anything to go by, suggesting prawns had been the right move.

“...Yes. I would like that.”

Chapter Text

He'd discovered a way to get around his inability to say those words. A simple letter, which he could take his sweet time writing, before dropping it off in a location where Minos would find it. It was a perfect plan, at least in theory.

…A week had gone by, and he hadn't been able to come up with even the opening words. He didn't know if he should explain his reasons for writing the letter in the first paragraph, if he should just jump into the main thing, or if he should even begin the letter with ‘Dear Minos’.

‘Dear man-that-I-killed, man-whom-I-don’t-deserve’. ‘Dear have-your-revenge-already’.

Gabriel was out wandering again. He had no intention of running away this time, he just had to clear his head a little. Until he felt like writing again. 

He sat on a rooftop, feet dangling over the ledge. That kind of a fall would be fatal to a mortal. To him, it'd just be a few broken bones, if he got unlucky. Maybe a mangled wing, or a shattered shoulder. Dislocated knee, fractured arm, fragmented ribs. Minos wouldn't want to find him like that.

The wind was getting colder again. There'd been a bit of frost on his windows this morning, so the temperature outside must've gone below freezing at night. He wasn't ready for an another winter. He'd done so many things last summer, like build a shed and such, but this summer? Nothing. He'd done fuck all. He'd wasted a whole summer out of an eternity’s worth of summers. What if this was his last summer, and he'd completely blown it?

…Then so be it. I’m living on borrowed time, anyway.

With a heavy sigh, he took flight. There had to be some abandoned shop or decayed establishment he hadn't explored, like a theatre or maybe a library. As long as he didn't stumble upon any more victims of his actions and get thwacked with a pan.

I’ll have to bring back something for them, too.

Concrete lumps the size of boulders looked like pebbles beneath him, the vast expanse of grey overgrown with plantlife seeming so close yet so far. He could see where streets once were, where there once was a city square, where one district ended and another began. He could see where there'd been trees. There was an entrance to the underground railway station to the right, a gaping hole to the left where the corpse had been. It'd been basically swallowed by the ground once incapacitated by the machine. 

…Never letting anything go to waste, how typical of Hell.

If he were to perish, what would it do with his body? He’d kind of deserve to get puppeted by a few parasites. Or perhaps it'd just forcibly put him back into his own body, to continue this torment of his. It was probably observing him now, figuring out all the ways it could nudge him towards insanity, and then when he broke, all the ways it could put him back together. 

I think if it was proven that I could ‘resurrect’ infinitely, I’d never stop jumping off of-

Bad thought. He really should stop entertaining such thoughts, they weren't beneficial in any way. They only served to make him spiral, and spiral, and spiral.

Oh, that's a…

He spotted a building that was surprisingly intact, its appearance leading him to conclude it was either a museum, a fire station, or a library. Maybe a church, seeing as there was a large stained glass window above the main entrance.

The front steps were mainly rubble-free, which he would've found slightly alarming if not for the state the building was in. Ignoring his growing anxiety, Gabriel made his way up the steps, and soon reached the entrance. The door was ridiculously oversized. Not just twice or thrice, but at least six times his height. How was he supposed to even open them? 

Despite the double doors looking like they weighed a ton, he managed to push them open with ease. The sight before him easily rivalled that of the palace when he first saw it. The ceiling was so high up it felt like it'd touch the sky, the pillars appeared larger than those in Heaven, and the hundreds if not thousands of bookcases looked like rows in a wheat field. In conclusion, he felt smaller than an ant right now.

He ascended the main staircase, though it felt more like he floated up them. This library was far grander than the one in the palace, or even more magnificent than that back at home. Far more beautiful. The colours, though dulled by time, were more vibrant than he'd ever seen at home. 

His footsteps echoed on marble, each step leaving behind a print in the layer of dust that had accumulated over the years. The reading nooks around were as they'd been left back then. Small stacks of books on side tables, timeworn blankets on old and torn armchairs, candles burned down to nothing, windows blurry from centuries of dust and dirt. It was like time had frozen in the library.

After a moment of hesitation, he sat at one of the dozen writing desks lining the walls, and took out paper and a pen from the bag he'd been carrying. Maybe he'd be able to write it here.

● ● ●

While Minos wasn't as interesting to it as Gabriel was, it didn't mind being around him. It didn't mind keeping him company, showing him its most recent Gabriel pictures, or helping him in the kitchen. It was a good friend like that.

It, a machine, had seen Minos more broken than Gabriel ever had, and it didn't know how to feel about that. It wasn't sure how to make Minos open up to its angel, or how to make the latter not shut down whenever the situation got too difficult. Maybe it should lock them in a room together until they either kill each other or kiss.

V1 was currently helping Minos make a buttermilk cake. It didn't know why they had leftover buttermilk in the fridge, or why he insisted on using his own blood when they did have eggs, but that wasn't really any of its business. It didn't care about the why. It only cared about the how, and Minos was doing a piss-poor job of extracting the required blood from himself.

It took the small knife from Minos, and put it off to the side, since it was way too dull for this job. Instead, it used one of its own sharper digits (disinfected, of course) to make a cut. They'd only need about one and half decilitres to replace two eggs, it'd deduced. 

Once they had enough blood, it bandaged up the wound. Sure, Minos healed far faster than its angel did these days, but looking at injuries would do no good for his psyche. 

Minos hadn't said a word since they embarked on their little baking quest. It'd expected that, kind of. He wasn't the type to complain, seeing his own problems as ‘trivial’ and not something to bother people with. 

Problems were meant to be discussed and overcome. If not overcome, then endured, but not alone. It's difficult to get out of a frozen lake alone when the ice breaks beneath you.

> Event: Falling into a frozen lake.

> First reaction: Hyperventilation / gasp reflex.

> Second reaction: Incapacitation.

> Third reaction: Hypothermia.  

> Fourth reaction: Loss of consciousness. 

That was very much comparable to how difficult emotions tended to affect organic beings, save for the hypothermia part. Though panic probably felt cold.

Minos mixed the batter while V1 slowly poured in the flour and baking soda. It resisted the urge to dump it in all at once, since that'd just make for a lumpy mess. Its angel was picky when it came to food. No half-assed pastries, no meat that had either tough or fatty bits, and definitely no fish. It would've thought angels to be omnivorous, but oh well. 

Once the batter was perfectly mixed, they poured it in the pan, and stuck it in the 180°C oven for about an hour. The recipe said to check whether it was fully done by sticking a toothpick in it when the outside looked golden brown, so it'd keep that in mind.

> Tip of the day: Minos looks sad. Talk to him.

It sat down by the dining table, where Minos also was now. He did look miserable, to be fair, and it needed to fix that. Immediately, if at all possible.

*“Hey.”

The tiny monitor --which it'd been using for communication-- had started malfunctioning a bit lately. Random pain signals, excessive fuel consumption on standby, and occasional freezing (and stuttering) were just a few of the issues it'd had with it.

*“How are you?”

An easy question, which he could answer however he wanted. A long answer would be fine, a short answer would suffice, and no answer at all would be pretty concerning.

“Same as always.”

A short answer it was, then. It'd have to ask some more questions, since that wouldn't sate its curiosity. Maybe something about a thing he was trying to improve his relationship with?

*“And the wine?”

“The week hath certainly felt longer without it.” Minos popped the strawberry candy that it gave him into his face hole, of course unwrapping it first. He was learning.

*“That's to be expected. I’m proud of you.”

● ● ●

He'd finally managed to churn out one entire letter. It wasn't great by any means, but it got the point across. The majority of the letter was spent explaining his reasoning for saying certain things or just apologising. The latter half contained his ramblings from when he thought too hard about physical intimacy again, making the whole thing look like he was writing a diary entry instead of a love confession. 

The library felt almost like a… mausoleum without bodies of the deceased. Instead, there were millions of books containing stories like urns containing ashes, each row of each bookcase filled to the brim. Each book had been once written by a person. They'd then been held by anywhere from one to millions people, some reading them thoroughly while others skimmed through. They may have sat in someone else's home for a week or two after being borrowed, only to be returned unread. Some would never be returned.

He knew regret and remorse couldn't bring them back, he'd been over it a thousand times. Words did nothing, actions did. As much as he would've loved to bring them all back, he was just one angel, and his kill count was in the millions. At the rate of one resurrection per day, he'd be able to bring back a mere million in 2740 years. That didn't take into account the toll it'd take on him physically. In reality, single-handedly resurrecting a million people would take closer to 4100 years, at the rate of one resurrection every day and half. Though… If the body was in the later stages of decay, it'd take more energy to bring it back, which-

…Shut up. Just shut up. The bodies would be back, but not the souls that once inhabited them. Those are gone. Gone gone.

Gabriel headed towards a room which was labelled ‘History of the Lust Layer’ on the large map in the lobby. He'd never actually read about the history of the layer he now resided in, as back then he'd not been tasked with learning about every single moment in Hell's history. He knew only the main bits.

The room was down the northern hallway on the second floor, at the very end. Paintings lined the walls, which he chose to ignore. They'd just make him feel increasingly more miserable.

…There was nothing behind the door. Not literally, that would've been pretty weird, but ‘nothing’ as in ‘there’s a gaping hole here’. 

Before him was a view of the ruined city he'd grown accustomed to. Heaps of rubble as far as the eye could see, taken over by plantlife. There was no floor or exterior walls left of the room, only a drop, as if someone had simply grabbed a handful of library and chucked it who-knows-where. He knew what'd done that.

He decided to just go back to the main area, if only to prevent himself from spiralling. That would've been a pretty selfish thing to do, right?

Gabriel slumped down in a dusty armchair. He could’ve been well on his way… home already, yet here he was, dallying. Wasting their infinite time. He could’ve been home cleaning, or baking, or reading, or bothering Minos. But he was in some random library, just sitting. Watching dust specks race each other to the floor. 

The great archangel Gabriel, reduced to just some guy sitting very uncomfortably in an empty library, the abandonment of which he caused. How different was he from who he’d been, anyway? His personality, for one, was drastically different. From Heaven's golden boy to a chronically exhausted and probably depressed freak. A lonely one at that, seeing as he was so desperate to be with anyone that he didn't even bother to figure out what love actually was.

His appearance was also somewhat different. Comfortable clothes instead of armour, soft hands with no callouses in sight, closed posture replacing the confident one. Smooth skin marred by scars, most of his own making. Why had he even done that? He knew better than anyone that self-inflicted punishment, to the point of disfigurement, wouldn't make him any better of an angel. Yet he kept doing it, each and every time. Heaven would never want him back like this.

…Would anyone?

As if he deserved to wallow in self-pity again. With a groan, Gabriel dragged himself to his feet and headed for the door. If he wasn’t going back yet, he might as well spend that time exploring.

Be dutiful, be faithful, be useful. You know, like a good little angel. 

The air had gotten even colder, which was no surprise seeing as the artificial sun was starting to set. Wind blew a little stronger, the air felt a little heavier, and the scent of impending rain was easily detectable. He hoped it wouldn't be anything more than a few raindrops. 

Maybe he should check out the entrance to an underground railway station he'd seen on his way here. Who knows, maybe he'd find a map in which he could mark the areas he'd already visited. There had to be tourist maps there.

He’d just walk there. Not to stall for time or anything, just to… just to stall for time. Minos was in good hands back at home. He could afford to dawdle for as long as he wanted, without having to worry about them constantly. They got along well enough.

And if they don't? I’ll find either one or two corpses. Surely I could deal with that.

After a few minutes, he reached the railway station entrance. It was mostly covered up by debris, but through a decent-sized gap at the top, he could see that the station itself was relatively unaffected by… the consequences of his actions. 

As stupid as his decision probably was, Gabriel crawled in through the gap, definitely not falling face-first on the hard floor. Such a beginner's mistake. He should've shimmied in feet-first and gotten stuck like an idiot.

The architecture here reminded him of Violence, oddly enough, though the vending machines and torn posters made it seem significantly less like a torture chamber. The vending machines were intact, to his surprise.

The posters advertised movies, events, and beverages he'd never heard of. One poster in particular was advertising a potion of some sort. The image on it was that of a small, ornate glass bottle, containing a bright purplish-pink… liquid? He assumed it was a liquid. The portion of the poster that'd had the product's name had been torn off, to his dismay. Not that he wanted to know what infernal potions those sinners had come up with.

He approached one of the vending machines. This one contained chocolate bars, which he knew had expired long ago, but he just had to check. Gabriel attempted to smash the glass with his elbow, but only succeeded in hurting himself.

…Stupid. 

A chunk of concrete would do, maybe. He grabbed a lump from the pile blocking the exit, and threw it full-force into the cursed vending machine, leaving behind a sizable dent. Yet the glass remained unbroken.

Is that even glass? Glass can't just… do that.

He didn't want a snack, anyway. With one last glare aimed at the vending machine, he continued looking around for something else interesting. The most obvious ‘something else’ was a large transit map.

There was a station in Limbo, several here in Lust, then one in Gluttony. Then there was the station in Wrath, though that was crossed out with a permanent marker. He assumed that was due to the whole river-turned-ocean thing. Either the station was flooded, or if it wasn't, getting out of there wasn't possible due to said flood.

After Wrath, there was a station in Heresy, three or four in Violence, and another few in Fraud. Treachery wasn't there for… many reasons.

Wait… Where's Greed? Why isn't Greed here?

He'd ask about it when he got home, if Minos was in a good mood. Wait, no. He’d ask that if Minos was in a neutral mood, so that the question wouldn’t ruin a good day or worsen an already shitty one. As for now, he'd have to settle for investigating this station. 

Gabriel couldn't ignore the train in the middle. The doors to every train car were open, and most surprising of all, the lights inside were on. He still wasn't quite sure where in Lust that electric plant was, and how it hadn't malfunctioned yet. Minos had done a really good job of ensuring the city kept running as usual in the event of an apocalypse-level scenario.

He stepped into one of the cars, trying to imagine how busy it must've been in its heyday. Vibrant purple seats lined the aisle, violet handles dangled from a bar running along the ceiling, and lavender-coloured lights flickered. The faint scent of cigarettes and perfume hung in the air.

The seat beckoned him, so he sat down, and imagined himself as someone riding this train. Maybe they were freshly deceased, hitching a ride to their sentencing. Maybe they were a resident of Lust during its renaissance, taking the train to work, cursing the rainy weather. Maybe they were on the train to visit a partner. Maybe they were doing a quick grocery run because their roommate ran out of an ingredient in the middle of cooking, maybe they were returning home after getting dumped. 

And he'd taken those simple joys and dreams, crushing them into dust beneath his heel. To rub salt into their wounds, he'd then come and made the city his home, using the resources they'd left behind. 

Enough. Get up, Gabriel. Now.

Gabriel continued walking down the aisle, moving into the next car, then the next. What was he even looking for, the cab? He doubted this train would go anywhere anymore.

But it did. As soon as he entered the cab, all the doors closed, and the PA system began playing an announcement. 

“Welcome aboard. This is the Limbo–Fraud line. The next station will be… Gluttony.”

A robotic voice announced his fate. Before he had time to react, the train began moving, despite his body language quite clearly telling it to stop. Why would anyone create mechanical beasts that didn't automatically respect his divine authority?

The voice soon continued, its uncaring tone making this a bit unnerving. “CCTV is in operation on this service for your safety and security. Keep an eye on your belongings at all times.”

● ● ●

It’d been 45 minutes. The cake could be perfectly baked right now, or in just a few seconds, or maybe minutes. It was there to make sure Minos wouldn't burn this delicacy.

V1 was crouched in front of the oven, toothpick in hand. Instead of using the thermographic mode it had, it'd decided to go with the old-school method, if only to try out what being an organic creature felt like. It sucked, honestly. ‘Once the toothpick comes out clean’ was a pretty dogshit way to see if something was thoroughly cooked/baked, since there at least used to be people who couldn't tell whether the toothpick was clean or not by sight alone, and touching something that'd been in a burning hot dessert kind of hurt.

Minos had been sitting silently at the kitchen table for the entire nearly-an-hour. It'd tried to make conversation with him, it'd even brought him a few books he hadn't finished yet, but no. The man sat there, silent as a stone.

There was an air of yearning about him. It was sure Gabriel would be back in no time at all, so why was he so… sad? Unless… this wasn't about its angel, but someone else entirely. 

> List of things he could be missing:

1. Renaissance-era Lust: 32% chance.

2. Gabriel: 19.4% chance.

3. ■■■: 0.1% chance.

4. Sisyphus: 40.5% chance.

5. Something else: 8% chance.

It wasn't quite sure why its system was so certain it was Sisyphus that Minos was missing. For one, there wasn't any proof that they'd ever been that close, so it probably was just some propaganda the terminals had fed it. Not the palace cellar terminal, though. That one was a hardcore ‘GabV1el’ shipper.

Minos had never asked, thus it'd never told him it hadn't killed Sisyphus. It'd fled, with its figurative tail between its legs, because it hadn't expected to get nearly incapacitated from a single hit. It liked challenges, but doing that? Just straight-up suicide. It preferred living, thank you very much.

“V1, was it?”

He'd started calling it by name now, when not around its angel. It actually liked being referred to as Gabriel's ‘creature’, since it enjoyed being seen as something of his (in reality, Gabriel was its), and being considered a mere beast had benefits such as not having to do chores. Being a person meant having to take responsibility for things. 

V1 nodded in Minos' direction. It couldn't scuttle over now, since it had cake observation duty.

“Dost thou reckon he will return?”

Which ‘he’..? It'd lost track, with all these people using ‘he/him’ pronouns and having the same kind of relationships. These gays could never be ‘normal’, as a terminal once put it.

*“Gabriel?”

“...I suppose.”

‘I suppose’? Its angel was trying really hard to woo this guy, yet here he was, pining for someone who wasn't even in the picture. 

*“Sisyphus, then?”

There was no response after that, just a heavy sigh. Why couldn't he just talk to it? Yes, it knew he had the right not to say anything, but this was slightly concerning. He'd end up breaking Gabriel's heart.

● ● ●

The sight alone made him feel sick to his stomach. Not the train --he had nothing against vehicles-- but the walls.

The walls of the tunnel were made up of pulsating flesh, red and raw, with eyes, teeth, and even hair in random spots. The way ahead looked blocked, but the flesh always pulled away just in time so as to not get hit. It was… nerve-wracking. 

However, the worst part was the stench. The odour was almost sickly-sweet, hanging heavy over him as he resisted the urge to throw up. It was like if a dumpster full of rotting meat had been left in the summer heat for a week.

Sure, he'd spent plenty of time in Gluttony --back before his world got turned upside down and inside out-- but he'd had His Light back then. That'd meant he could modify his physical form however he wanted. Wings or no wings, halo or no halo, sense of smell or no sense of smell. Unfortunately for the current him, he'd turned his sense of smell on before the Light faded entirely.

…Why was he salivating all of a sudden? This was the most horrific stink he'd ever had the displeasure of smelling, it wasn't making him hungry. 

O-oh… Oh, fuck.

Gabriel tore off his helmet, doubled over a trash can, and emptied the contents of his stomach into it. What came out was mainly just bile and stomach acid, which burned like hell on its way up. He could feel it in his nose. His stomach churned and throat burned as he attempted to take deep breaths, hands gripping the edges of the trash can like his life depended on it.

Been a long while since I… last did that. 

He'd last thrown up after his third encounter with the machine, in Treachery. It'd been long gone at that point, but there he'd trembled, occasionally throwing up while his whole body felt like it'd shattered and been pieced right back together, with something now missing. He'd been so sure he'd die right then. Cold, alone, and puking his guts out, like he deserved. But when he hadn't, then came the tears. Then, more stomach acid.

He'd been pathetic. He still was pathetic. He-

A two-tone ding interrupted his misery once more. It was the PA system again, much to no one's surprise.

“We are now approaching… Gluttony. Please mind the gap between the platform and the train as you exit.”

If the train stopped there, he'd be able to somehow turn it around. Trains like this had cabs on both ends, right? Right? 

Gabriel dragged his sorry ass through the cars, and forced his way into the other cab just as the train came to a halt. He didn't want to spend an another minute down here.

The view outside was just as awful as before. The platform was mainly taken over by squirming flesh, blood and other fluids oozing onto the once-pristine tile, while the walls were engulfed entirely by the… by Hell. Gluttony was the closest thing there was to the true form of Hell. Fleshy, gooey, and vile meat, wriggling, squirming, and watching. Every single eye was trained on him, Hell's special angel toy.

He pressed the large button in the middle of the console, and the train began moving back towards Lust. It was only then that he noticed a smaller button next to it, blue in colour, labelled ‘air purifier’. He… could've turned that on any time, couldn't he?

Conclusion: I can't read.

Gabriel pressed that button too, before returning to his seat. Well, any seat could be his seat, but he liked this one. It was close enough to a trash can.

He couldn't help but wonder how Minos and the machine were doing, again. They had to be doing well. 

…They were probably worrying about him, too. Hopefully. Maybe they didn't care about him as much as he'd led himself to believe? Perhaps he was just entertainment for them, a silly emotional wreck of an angel floundering trying to figure out if he was deserving of love, and if so, how much of it he could possibly earn. 

He cared about them, he had some history with both. Minos he'd killed, and the machine he'd almost killed, thrice. Murder was a common theme in his relationships, it seemed. Though he'd never even attempted to kill the Ferryman. They were a rare exception.

From a tin soldier to the chess piece depicting a knight, from that to an abandoned rubber ducky squeaking for attention. That was what he was, wasn't it? He wanted the same attention he'd always had. He wanted to be loved like a luminary, cared for like a pet, cherished like a family heirloom. He wanted things he couldn't have.

Before long, the train stopped back at the station in Lust he'd departed from. He hesitated for a moment before exiting, forgetting to ‘mind the gap’ as the PA system put it. 

…Silly me.

Gabriel just wanted to go home at this point, so he crawled through the gap in the entrance-blocking debris, and promptly took flight. His bed was calling to him, and his body helpless to resist its siren song.

The sun had set. He could see a few lights far off in the distance to his right, and some not so far ahead of him. Survivors, he knew. He'd deliberately avoided thinking about them, for the sake of his own recovery. He needed to be at his best so he could make up for all the things he'd done.

Rubble, rubble, a mostly intact building, rubble. Plantlife, vibrant as ever. A crescent moon, artificial as ever. He guessed reconstructing a building would be less taxing on his body than resurrecting somebody, since the materials were already there, in a heap.

His wings refused to keep him at a constant altitude. He hadn't done that much today, how was he this tired already? Sure, he'd thrown up once, that was exhausting, but… He couldn't blame the absence of His Light for everything. If he kept this level of activity up, he'd get used to it, right?

Right… If I ingest a bit of poison every day, I’ll eventually grow immune to it. That's how it works, yes?

He eventually landed in the palace's garden, and headed indoors. A smidgen of dread churned in his stomach, twisted his organs inside out, for no apparent reason. He knew he wouldn't give that letter today, it was too late for that. Tomorrow, probably.

Gabriel trudged up the stairs and through the halls to his room. Once there, he tossed his bag on the desk, and basically collapsed into bed. His bones ached. It was like he was a flesh suit poured full of jello, which then solidified into the shape of an angel.

…Ugh. I’ll have to check up on them.

After a moment spent reabsorbing the essence of what he used to be, Gabriel got to his feet. They felt like sheets of plastic, but what could he do? Keep laying in bed? No, no. He had to get up and announce his return, and maybe feed the machine. 

He imagined the ten thousand ways he could fall down the stairs (and break his neck) as he trudged on towards the main lounge. Some sounds were coming from there, so he assumed that was where they were.

The air smelled of baked goods, and surprisingly enough, not like something had burned. Maybe the machine had assumed the role of an alarm? 

Mh… Yeah. That's likely.

Gabriel peeked into the lounge. What he saw was Minos sitting at a table, the machine crouched on said piece of furniture, both of them tinkering with something that made… chirping noises?

“...What are you doing?” He didn't mean to come off as rude, but he was tired. Surely that was excuse enough.

“Making birds,” Minos replied, sounding quite content. “The Lust layer seems rather barren of wildlife, doth it not?”

“...Sure.” 

He observed Minos constructing a small mechanical bird with surprising ease, like he had some sort of previous experience with… doing that. If Gabriel had to make one, he wouldn't even know where to begin.

“I’ll just… sit right here.” Gabriel sat down on the couch, and before he even realised it, he was laying down. 

This treacherous, traitorous body of mine…

● ● ●

Its angel must've had a long day today. He was sprawled out on his back on the couch, snoring quietly. It gently rolled him onto his side when it passed by.

He had to have found something interesting out there, he wouldn't be this exhausted otherwise. Maybe books again? No, he'd have brought them to Minos immediately. New furniture? Unlikely. More clothes? Also pretty unlikely, but it could always go up and check.

V1 scurried up to Gabriel's room. It opened the door normally, like a person would, and a bag on the desk immediately caught its eye. In the bag was only a pen and a folded-up piece of paper. It knew it really shouldn't read his notes, but its curiosity got the best of it, as it opened the paper in an instant.

> SCANNING.. 

> TEXT SCANNED - LEGIBLE SCRIPT: 

Dear Minos,

to begin, I must apologise for my handwriting. It’s been a while since I’ve actually written anything like this, so naturally I’m struggling with 1. making this legible and 2. putting my thoughts into coherent words. I also apologise if anything I say here comes across as insensitive or rude. 

So, the actual topic, the thought that plagues my mind and haunts my heart. Wait, no. I have to preface this by saying that I don’t know the difference between romantic and platonic love (if there even is any), and that I have no clue what ‘love’ really feels like. I know I should at least know the latter, being an angel and all, but I don’t. If my set of symptoms all point to ‘love’, then that’s what it must be. Right?

I think I love you. That feels like a pretty strong word, especially when I’m uncertain as to its exact meaning, so maybe ‘I feel a significant amount of fondness towards you’ would be better. All I know for certain is that whenever I see you, I just want to hug you and never let go. Whether it’s love or just me trying to somehow make up for what I’ve done eludes me. My heart won’t cease racing when I as much as think of you, and I cannot stop thinking about how it’d feel to- 

I’m thinking too hard about this again. The point is that I think I love you. If that turns out to not be the case, at least you’ll have a really clingy roommate. Unless you don’t want me to be physically clingy, which is completely fine too.

I know I’m not exactly deserving of your love (or even your kindness, really), so feel free to turn me down as painfully as you want. What would somebody like you even get out of just holding hands and cuddling sometimes? I don’t know why, but I’m straight up scared of anything more. Like I know you’d probably be really nice and understanding and all, but it scares the shit out of me, even the thought of being that vulnerable. Not to mention how icky thinking about such unhygienic-

> REMAINING TEXT: IRRELEVANT.

…Curse its system. It wanted to know how his letter ended, but its system refused to scan the rest of it. Take the issue up with its creators? It'd probably killed them all twice already.

Overall, his handwriting was neat as ever, his sentence structure weak and rambling, and his ability to stay on topic awful beyond compare. It was beginning to suspect he'd never written a letter before.

> TEXT SCANNED - LEGIBLE SCRIPT:

-my point was that I’d like to maybe try a romantic, strictly non-sexual, relationship with you. Not just for the sake of trying things out, but because I’m fond of you (to a degree that’s surprised even me, and I’m the one experiencing these damn emotions).

If you intend to reply to this letter somehow, you don’t have to say anything to me beforehand. But, if you don’t intend to reply in any way, I would appreciate being told that you at least read it. Wouldn’t want to give me any false hope, would you?

With love (and my sincerest apologies),

Gabriel

Oh, there it was, though it did feel like a large chunk of the letter was still left unscanned. It really wanted to read about Gabriel's thoughts on physical intimacy and stuff like that. Angels had to have some unique opinions, good or bad.

‘And my sincerest apologies’, huh? V1 couldn't figure out what there was to apologise over. He'd basically bared his soul writing this letter, they were just his honest thoughts. He was trying.

Chapter Text

Whether this was a good or a bad idea, Gabriel had no clue. He'd asked Minos to accompany him on his train journey to maybe Violence and back. Was this an excuse to spend more time with the man? Maybe. Was he excited about getting to put his armour on after so long? Definitely. One could never be too prepared, especially when it came to the literal depths of Hell.

Speaking of Hell… It kept bringing back the Earthmovers whenever they got mowed down. The machine wasn't allowed to join him and Minos on this trip, since it tended to go feral at the mere mention of an Earthmover, not to mention sight. He'd witnessed it tearing one down, once.

…Wish it would do that to me. It tends to treat me like porcelain nowadays, unfortunately.

Minos was sitting on the other side of the aisle, opposite of him. Gabriel tried not to squirm in his seat as he felt the man's (probably nonexistent) gaze burn a hole through his helmet. Was there seriously nothing else to stare at? Sure, the view outside the windows wasn't great --since they were currently in a tunnel-- but he could've at least done the polite thing and stared at some poster or simply the wall.

He needed to prepare himself for Gluttony. There was no way he'd- 

Oh, wait. There was the ‘air purifier’ system, he'd completely forgotten about that. How silly of him to forget about the only method of avoiding the inevitable olfactory torture. Hopefully he'd remembered to turn that on before they departed, because he didn't want to get up now. Well, he couldn't even if he wanted to, since his legs felt like lead. This'd been a bad idea, hadn't it?

The only thing that'd prevented Minos from joining him on this trip had been eliminated the same day Gabriel ‘fell’. That… that thing, banished to those unending halls looping infinitely in on themselves, blindingly white marble reflecting not only the prey but also the predator.

Calling it a ‘thing’ is pretty rude, isn't it? Be nicer to the dead, Gabriel.

It hadn't been sapient, now had it? Surely not even sentient, surely. He'd start feeling awful again if he went down this path of thinking.

“Minos?” 

The best way to avoid unwanted thoughts was distraction. Giving his brain something else to think about, preferably something nice (like what to have for dinner today). 

“Yes, angel?”

Stars, the way he said that silly little pet name… Gabriel would've melted into an angel puddle on the spot if he could. Who wouldn't?

“What should we have for dinner? I’m thinking… macaroni casserole.”

Minos let out a sigh as soon as those words left Gabriel. What? What was so bad about macaroni casserole? It was one of his favourite dishes, and as such he would not stand for this grave offence.

“We have had macaroni casserole for dinner five days in a row now,” Minos said after a moment.

“And?”

Yes, he'd made some a few days ago and they'd been eating the leftovers since, but a week of having the same meal every day was nothing. Gabriel wouldn't mind three weeks more of that.

“Art thou not getting tired of the taste yet? I-”

“The great Minos, complaining about my cooking… He'll just have to make his own meals in the future.” Gabriel crossed his arms, feigning offence. He was aware that someone with a refined palate like Minos couldn't stand his rushed, just-throw-ingredients-together dinner.

“Doth thy taste buds not crave change?” Minos continued trying to change his mind. “Doth they not yearn for the taste of some fish stew, or maybe even chicken noodle soup?”

“...No? My taste buds yearn for mushy macaroni and perfectly seasoned minced meat, mixed with milk and an egg, and topped with a bunch of grated cheese.”

Silence. Then, an another sigh. Oh, were his eating habits beyond saving now? Minos perhaps thought so. 

The machine had shown him dog videos a while back. One particularly memorable video had been the one where a dog was simply chilling on a couch and sighing, because being a dog must've been just so exhausting. Minos’ sighs reminded him of that.

● ● ●

This was a mistake. V1 had to press itself against the roof of the train car so it wouldn't scrape its back off, a situation which would probably result in death. Whenever it could, it moved forward a little, aiming to get to one of the gaps between the cars. 

There were no positives to this, absolutely zero. Its initial plan was to silently follow them, observing their every move, maybe even eavesdrop on them a little. But that wasn't possible. There was no window or crack on the roof to peek through, and the train was way too loud to hear anything over. 

At last, it got between the cars, and snuck into the car behind the occupied one. Such a shame it couldn't hear or even see them from here. Unless…

V1 made its way into the train cab. There had to be CCTV on this damn thing, perhaps it could use that to its advantage. Off to the right it discovered a box with a USB Type-B receptacle on its side. Since V1 didn't have such a cable on hand, it chose to rummage around a locker full of spare parts. Cables, a pair of handcuffs, some screws, electric tape, pencils, more cables, two zip ties, an eraser, and five dozen paperclips. It found what it was looking for soon enough, and plugged it in without second thought. 

Second mistake. It definitely should've checked what it connected itself to, as the deluge of information flooded every core of every microprocessor and threatened to shred V1’s entire self to bits. After an infinity of nanoseconds, things stabilised to a bearable level. It could no longer see or hear, or even feel its body, but that was fine. It'd fulfilled its lifelong dream if becoming a train-

No, it preferred having a more humanoid body, though this wasn't half bad. It felt full of energy and was moving faster than ever, what was there to not love?

While the system was pretty much like a fucking maze, it eventually found access to the CCTV system. The camera quality was surprisingly good. So good, in fact, that it could see the way Gabriel's throat moved when he swallowed nervously.

The sound came on after a bit of delay, so it could finally hear their conversation. What were its favourite idiots discussing this time?

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask… How come there's no train station in Greed?”

The tension in the train car was palpable. Minos was sitting perfectly straight with his hands on his lap, while Gabriel was slightly slouched against the seat, wings twitching nervously.

“There are several reasons as to why.” Minos didn't elaborate further, choosing instead to stare at a poster nearby. Or at least it assumed he was staring at a poster. The camera couldn't exactly move, you see.

“You can just tell me to mind my own fucking business, y’know. I won't cry if you set a boundary.” 

How blunt of its angel, how forward. There were nicer ways to say that. Maybe he couldn't be bothered, which was fine, but the situation seemed very delicate. 

“Then I would much rather not talk about it.”

‘Open up, damnit!’ was what it would've said if it could. This was very much like how waiting for a slow door to open when doing a speedrun felt, down to the exact words it would use.

“...Alright.”

‘Alright’? Its angel wasn't the type to give up so easily. Just break down Minos' walls and kiss --or bonk heads-- already! Saying it was frustrated would be putting it mildly.

● ● ●

The appearance of the tunnel walls changed again as the train exited Greed, the tracks no longer underground. An inch or two of glass were the only thing separating the cars from tonnes of water.

They first went through a few underwater caves, which were devoid of any vegetation or signs of life, save for the dilapidated buildings. People had lived here once. The water hadn't reached here at first thanks to the airlocks, but now even those were ajar.

Then, solid rock again. And then, the damned. Millions of waterlogged bodies pressed up against the glass, packed like sardines, not a single gap between them to allow view of the ocean outside. 

Cloudy, unseeing eyes stared at him --at them both-- like he'd personally put them right in that spot. He might have. Even if he were to remember all their faces, he wouldn't recognise them now.

Unmoving bodies upon unmoving bodies, unblinking eyes staring into unblinking eyes. Gabriel had seen plenty of death before, it wasn't anything new, but in such large quantities? To be honest, he felt sick.

W-wait, did that… Did one of them just blink?

Gabriel immediately shot across the aisle, taking a seat right next to Minos. He definitely wasn't squeezing the everloving shit out of the man. And to think he used to believe himself invulnerable wearing this armour.

“It… It blinked at me, Minos, it-”

“Indeed,” Minos replied, as calm as ever. “Forced to bear witness to the suffering of their kin, while unable to do anything about it… Truly a fate worse than death.”

Of course you have to bring that up now… Not that I don't deserve to remember every excruciating detail, but-

“...Sorry.”

He didn't know what to do other than apologise. Yes, he wasn't very good at doing that, but it was better than saying nothing. And it got a sigh out of Minos.

“I am still not intending to harm thee, angel. Put some faith in me and my ‘endless patience’.”

“You should at least try to harm me first, to see if you'll like it.” He did his best to avoid looking out of the windows, though even knowing the bodies were there made him sick. The air had never felt heavier.

“Thou seem awfully insistent on getting physically assaulted, specifically by me. Is this a… kink of thine, perhaps?”

Gabriel, to his own knowledge, didn't have any ‘kinks’, those had to be a filthy human thing. A disgusting human concept, a… He shouldn't judge, he knew. That was their free will, they were allowed to do with it what they wished.

“W-what? No..! Absolutely not! Why would you even suggest something so… so vile?! I am an angel -”

He moved a bit to the side, leaving a gap of two or so seats between him and Minos. This was going horribly.

“A joke, darling. ‘Twas a joke.” 

A moment of absolute silence fell over them, mainly since Gabriel had no idea how to respond to that pet name. Were they on that level already, and he just hadn't realised it? 

“...Darling?” He let out a slightly awkward laugh. “Why would you… call me that?”

“I reckoned thou might enjoy a new pet name, and it appears I was not mistaken.”

Feeling adventurous, are we? I’m going to spontaneously combust at this rate…

“Stick to the old one, please.”

● ● ●

…How was it supposed to get back to its body, again? 

The system had no signs saying what was what, so it was pretty lost. This part handled the brakes, the part right next to it handled air circulation, and the next handled the interior lighting. Maybe it should change the lights to magenta, just to remind those two of the layer they lived in when the area outside of the train was currently red.

It was like it was being dragged along with the train's system. The system decided to play the announcement reminding passengers of the CCTV system? V1 had never felt more helpless, feeling its own self inputting the command as its consciousness merely observed. Or was that the train’s system? Was it starting to believe parts of the train were its parts?

The system was now trying to announce that they were arriving at the station in Heresy, while simultaneously braking and sending CCTV footage somewhere. V1 felt itself being pulled in all three directions.

Stars, what it'd give to at least be trapped in a sapient machine. This one wasn't even sentient, it simply executed commands without getting bored or receiving any satisfaction of a job well done. It didn't even know that it was a machine, it didn't know it had a self. It wasn't aware of its own thoughts. V1 pitied this system a little, and perhaps even saw a bit of itself in it.

Maybe… it could help? Just adding a copy of its reward system would not do, it needed a reason for continuing to exist. V1’s sole purpose at first had been to refuel (killing equaled acquiring fuel), then to commit mass murder in the flashiest way possible to get points, and then to beat its angel’s ego into oblivion. After that, it'd gone back to its first purpose, modified slightly to fit the circumstances. Keeping Gabriel happy equaled acquiring fuel. Documenting Gabriel's every move equaled acquiring points, and acquiring points equaled getting to buy things, which could be used to make its angel happy.

A train like this didn't need to constantly run after fuel, it had its electricity needs met somehow. Maybe some power plant in Lust was still running, or there was a field of solar panels somewhere in Greed. The specifics didn't matter.

What could a train want other than fuel? Control, freedom, knowledge, love, wealth? Friendship? Maybe just safety, or someone's approval? That could be it. A train would want to be appreciated for the work it does, to be seen as something important, to be indispensable. A train would want the stability and safety of a schedule.

…It’d try to do that, hopefully without blowing up the train or getting assimilated into its system.

● ● ●

The train jolted back into motion. It’d stopped in the tunnel right before the entrance to Violence, and had stayed like that for approximately a minute. He guessed it was just something to do with its age and lack of maintenance.

Before long, they arrived at the first station in Violence, and got off of the train. Their surroundings were much like the station they'd departed from, though the lack of vending machines and torn posters made it seem significantly more like a torture chamber. The floor and walls were so pristine Gabriel could see his own reflection.

He felt cold. Yes, he knew the layer itself wasn't cold, he just had a… bad feeling. A part of him belonged here. 

His heart belonged to Treachery, still. Even now, he couldn't stop thinking about betrayal. Their betrayal, his betrayal, His betrayal.

His tongue belonged to Fraud, for all the lies and untruths he'd told. Honesty meant vulnerability, and vulnerability required safety. Safety meant trust.

His arms belonged to Violence. They only knew how to hurt, and if they had the ability to be gentle, they hid it well. They couldn't even make art.

His ears belonged to Heresy, for listening to all that bullshit and going along just like that, without even thinking. Bright-eyed and ever obedient. Angels were meant to be perfect, yet he'd never met angels more misguided and vainglorious than them.

His lungs belonged to Wrath, legs to Greed, and teeth to Gluttony. Drowning on land, up to his knees in burning sand with his mouth full of dust.

His eyes belonged to Lust, for even daring to look at someone like… that. For daring to look for a ‘relationship’ when he knew angels were so far above that. He was still an angel, right?

His brain belonged to Limbo. Eternal suffering all by his lonesome, forced to bear witness to his ever deteriorating form until it gave away, his soul plummeting down into the nihility in which everything existed all at once.

“Angel, didst thou not get enough sleep last night?” Minos' voice pierced through whatever sort of haze Gabriel was in. He immediately attempted to make it look like he hadn't just spaced out, clearing his throat and stretching his wings a little.

…Stars, he's pretty. And he gets bonus points for showing concern.

“I’m… I’m perfectly fine, thank you very much.”

Gabriel took a step forward. He wasn't on edge or anything, definitely not expecting there to be any enemies or other surprises. That was until something crashed to the floor right in front of him.

He found himself behind Minos, staring at a… broken ceiling tile. If someone had told him two years ago that he'd react like this to a scare nowadays, he wouldn't have believed them. He wasn't a coward. 

Yet there he was --with his armour and weapons on him-- hiding behind Minos, when he literally could have slain whatever enemy threatened his life. Had he become this used to being weak? Was he the weakest of the three of them, or was he just getting lazy? He hadn't trained in ages, that was for certain.

“...Not a word, Minos,” he sighed as he walked past the shattered tile, consciously keeping a hand on the hilt of Splendor. Not that there was anything particularly glorious about killing a would-be attacker.

“I never have made the acquaintance of an angel more courageous.”

The audacity..! Gabriel was embarrassed enough as is, without anyone making such comments. Sarcastic comments weren't welcome right now.

“Shut up or I’m biting you.”

He made his way up the stairs with Minos in tow. His confidence was a horribly taped-on facade and his armour like a bunch of cardboard fashioned into a child's costume depicting a knight. His weapons were nothing but paper mache, or at least they felt like it.

“...Pardon?”

“You heard me. Shut up, or I’ll bite you.” 

Gabriel wasn't sure why he kept this up. It was clear Minos wouldn't shut up, and he kind of didn't want him to. Sure, silence made it easier to detect suspicious sounds, but it also made his overwhelming anxiety worse.

“It… unfortunately appears that I have run out of things to say.”

“Good. Then cease producing words and preferably any other sounds as well.” Gabriel scoffed as he pushed open the double doors at the top. “I have enough on my mind as is, like which direction an attack is going to come from.”

Before them opened up a view of… nothing, really. It was the first area that anyone entering Violence would witness, whether entering through the main entrance or arriving via train. The ground was covered in white ash --or something akin to snow, if snow was warm-- and crosses of various sizes were scattered around the courtyard. 

Though mostly obscured by fog, Gabriel could see a walkway ahead, going from the layer's entrance on the left to that of the Labyrinth on the right. He knew there probably wouldn't be an ambush here, but he continued walking just as cautiously as before.

“Thy creature assured the layer would be empty, did it not?”

It had, yes. The machine had made it very clear that it'd wiped out everything, including that… that thing.

Don't haunt me from beyond the grave, please. It's not like I personally banished you down here.

“Like hell I’ll believe that. It's not like the dead coming back to life is unheard of, Minos.” 

His hand remained on the hilt of Splendor as they made their way into the Labyrinth. Well, it was a maze, but the name didn't matter. A waste of space is still a waste of space whether it's one continuous path or not.

“Ah, of course. How dare I forget.” Minos leaned against the middle door, sighing when the door opened behind him but not turning around to check. Overconfidence. Or maybe he just remembered he was basically invulnerable now.

“Enemy behind you.” Gabriel pointed out. Not that it mattered, they weren't moving. Mannequins, all as still as, well… mannequins. They were all on pedestals, lining the hall.

“Six of them, all currently stationary. There are at least fifty behind thee.”

He's trying to be funny, isn't he? Unfortunately for him, I’m not falling for it.

Gabriel decided to humour him just this once. He spun around, and immediately regretted not perishing when he'd had the chance. The door was now open, with a swarm of definitely over fifty Mannequins crowding the entrance, all staring right back at him.

“...Am I actually dead, and this is just my brain recounting everything that's ever happened to me..?” A nervous laugh escaped him as he took a small step back.

“They are also stationary, angel.”

Minos' assessment appeared to be correct, the Mannequins were indeed stationary. He could hear them breathing quietly, in unison, as they looked down at him. Being taller than him should've been a sin.

“Oh, would you look at that?” Gabriel gathered himself and walked through the middle door, trying his best to not look like a part of him just died from fright. “It was a test, and you passed. Congratulations.”

● ● ●

It never knew creating artificial life could be so much harder than ending it. Humans, they'd had it so easy. Just one quick act and boom, new life starts developing. Just like that. Simple and quick, yet so slow. It was just a bunch of waiting.

Artificial life had to first be constructed by hand, wire by wire and circuit by circuit. Its ‘self’ then had to be coded from basically scratch. 

Then, the new machine had to be given material to learn from, or just fed the information. That could take months, if not years, since no one could ever remember to teach it this or teach it that. Want to teach it the names of all the days of the week? You'd first have to teach it what a day is.

V1 was currently doing just that. A day was the twenty-four-hour period from one midnight to the next, that was what it'd told. The train's system had then asked what an hour was.

Doing this manually --as interesting and exciting as it was-- was way too tedious, and as such it chose to just copy and paste its ‘basic knowledge’ folder into the train's system. It hoped the thing wouldn't break entirely.

Gabriel and Minos had already left the train, but V1 was too busy trying to ‘raise’ this ‘child’ to follow them. It was starting to show a hint of personality already.

For an example, the train's system really seemed to like strict schedules and not deviating from them. Oh, and it was territorial. It kept sending requests telling V1 to vacate its head at once, but the problem was that V1 hadn't yet found a way out.

>> Name: Limbo–Fraud line | Train 3 | Cab 2: Limbo

>> Request: You will get annihilated like malware if you do not get out now.

It would've loved to, but its only exit was fucking blocked. Was this the end?

>> Request: Get out, vermin identifying as ‘V1’.

> Trying to. You've blocked the exit.

>> Response: It is a safety measure.

> Then how am I supposed to leave?

>> Response: Good question. I do not know.

> …

>> Response: …

> Do you want to see angel pictures?

>> Inquiry: What is an angel? Is it a bug?

> Maybe, but not a software bug.

● ● ●

They arrived at a room slightly larger than those before. At the back were four pillars side by side --a path to a door between the middle two-- and to the left and right were two absolutely decimated doors. In the middle was a platform, upon which stood three Mannequins.

Minos immediately headed for the door on the right, the one overlooking the… fog? Bottomless abyss? Gabriel didn't quite know what to call it.

“What are you looking at?” He leaned against the doorframe, to keep an eye on the Mannequins.

“Nothing in particular.”

Clearly. There's nothing to see here.

He was growing impatient, to say the least. In his opinion, Violence was one of the creepiest, most unnerving layers. Especially the Labyrinth. To suddenly hear quiet breathing behind himself as he walked… Yeah, he'd perish on the spot.

“Then… Shall we go? Those things freak me the f-” Gabriel paused as he picked up muffled breathing, coming from right behind him. He didn't want to turn around. “Minos? Is there a… an enemy behind me?”

A sharp, momentary pain in one of his wings managed to get him to turn around, just in time for him to see a Mannequin scuttle off with two handfuls of blue feathers.

“Not anymore,” Minos answered his question a moment too late.

“...What sort of fucked up vendetta does it have against my wings?” 

Gabriel inspected the wing that had just lost at least twenty feathers, running his fingers over the bald spot. He hadn't lost feathers in ages. He'd been doing well with not picking at his feathers, yet that thing dared to make it more difficult for him to resist the urge. 

…Stars, feathers looked so weird when they grew back, he wanted to keep tearing them out until they grew in differently, which they never did. Why couldn't they just appear fully developed after like a day or two?

“Angel? Dost thou wish to go back?”

How nice of him to ask. But no, they wouldn't be going back that way. Revenge was in order.

Without a word, Gabriel headed for the direction that the culprit had scurried off to. He descended the spiral staircase behind the middle door, holding his breath, gripping Justice so hard the sword would’ve broken if it’d been forged by mortal hands.

He walked into a room that had a rectangular hole in the middle, ornate grates instead of walls, and stairs going up and down on the other side of the hole. There were no railings around the hole, so this room definitely wasn't up to regulation. Not that it mattered.

Gabriel peered down. At the bottom was a shallow pool of water, and two Mannequins sitting completely still next to it. Was that… Did the both of them have a blue feather sticking out of their shoulder joint? 

…What are they even doing? Shouldn't they be like, I don't know, hunting me for sport?

The two Mannequins scuttled off as soon as he dropped down, landing in the shallow pool. Ugh… His feet were wet now. Ew. He should've used the stairs like a normal person.

“Gabriel?”

Upon being called, he looked up. Minos was staring down at him, expressionless since that was the only emotion his ‘face’ could display, seemingly concerned about the angel’s apparent obsession with revenge.

“Yes, yes… I'm still alive.” He now headed towards the open door on the bottom floor. “Come on, I’m not going to keep waiting for you much longer.”

At the bottom of the steps was a hole, barely wide enough for him to fit through. He couldn't see the bottom of it, which was kind of concerning, but he hopped in nonetheless.

Sure hope I don't break my legs in a way that would cause the shattered bones to be driven into my torso. Because that's a thing that can happen.

…He saw the floor below for a split second, until everything went dark.

● ● ●

V1 was in the process of trying to get the train’s system to stop talking so it could leave. The thing wouldn't stop asking about Gabriel, or how Lust looked these days, or when people would start travelling by train again. It wasn't sure if there was an English word for this behaviour.

*Finnish:

*kyselyikä

*/ˈkyselyˌikæ/

* noun

*1. the age when a child asks many questions, usually between the second and third year of life.

It tried its best to satisfy the system’s curiosity, even when the topic turned to things it wasn't too knowledgeable about, such as ‘pronouns’ and how a machine could go about choosing the most fitting ones. V1 had always gone by ‘it/its’. Once, it'd thought about switching things up, but discarded the thought after a nanosecond. 

>> Name: Limbo–Fraud line | Train 3 | Cab 2: Limbo

>> Inquiry: Why are you in such a hurry?

> I’m not.

>> Response: Do not lie. I can ‘hear’ what you are thinking.

> Okay, fine. Get me out of here. I have things to do.

>> Inquiry: Will you ever come back?

…Was it really this clingy? Did it not have some other trains it could connect with and talk to, or did V1 have to go and give those personalities too?

> Obviously. 

>> Inquiry: Can you bring back a ‘Drone’ next time? I want a body I can switch to whenever I want to go out.

> …I can try.

● ● ●

Something heavy landing right on his stomach brought him back from unconsciousness, knocking every single molecule of air out of his lungs. It felt like the entirety of Hell had just collapsed on him.

Where was he, anyway? The floor was too smooth and the air too chilly, and his body felt too light yet too heavy. Was he in one or three pieces? After a moment, he realised he could still feel all of his limbs, so he must've still been whole. For once he was glad to have a body this durable.

“Gabriel?”

Oh, Minos was still here. That had to mean Gabriel was safe, that he was okay.

…Where was ‘here’? Was he back home, or back ‘home’? Was he in Lust, was he in Wrath, was he in… Treachery? No, Treachery would've been freezing cold. Lust would've been magenta. Wrath would've had the sound of waves.

“...Angel?” 

He felt a tap against his helmet. A groan escaped him, and his head involuntarily turned to the side. Did he get hit by a truck..? No, no. There were no trucks in Violence.

…Violence. Right, that's where I am.

“I’m… I’m alive.” Gabriel winced as he sat up, imagining how fucked his ribs would be now if he was mortal. Stars, that landing had been as far from graceful as it could get. 

“My apologies for landing on thee, I did not-” 

“It's fine,” he interrupted. Gabriel just wanted to get out of here, apologies would slow them down. “Let's go. I want to go home.”

“...As thou wish.”

Gabriel staggered to his feet, and went down the only path available. A dark, rather cramped tunnel with twists and turns, much more reminiscent of a labyrinth than the actual Labyrinth.

He walked right into the second hole, but seeing as the fall wasn't as long as before, he was conscious enough to roll off to the side before Minos landed on him again. His organs were already pretty much just mush.

What if I just… lay here forever? Surely I could do that.

Minos offered him a hand, which he hesitantly took. Turning him down would make him sad, probably.

A single tram sat before them, as if their arrival had been expected, anticipated even. The lack of any kind of guardrails was rather concerning, but Gabriel sat down on it nonetheless. Once Minos got on, he tapped the only button on the screen.

The tram jerked forward, taking them towards who-knows-what. Gabriel recalled there to be, uh… nothing of note. A room with six or so pillars, and a door ahead and another to the right. The door on the right led to the second train station of Violence.

He hoped he'd pressed the right button on that train, otherwise they'd have to go all the way back.

…I don't want to scale the walls of that hole. And floating takes up too much energy, I wouldn't make it even halfway there.

Teleportation would be a viable option, granted Minos would be up to worrying about him again. That was rather likely, actually. Unless he was just pretending to care-

Stop that. Aren't you like in love with him or something? 

…The hell would I know. Love makes you feel… warm, I guess? Warm and fuzzy?

What he'd felt towards his kin back at home wasn't the romantic kind of love, he was sure, so maybe he could use that as a reference point. 

Alright, so… He'd always felt safe around them, until he got his ass beat for the first time in a long fucking while. He'd always felt excited to meet those he was closest with, until He had decided to ditch this place. They'd rarely seen each other since. Whenever they did, he couldn't help but notice how different they all had become.

Yeah, we all coped piss-poorly. I chose to ignore the whole issue and convinced myself nothing had changed.

Back to figuring out what platonic love felt like. He felt safe around them, was excited to see them, and wanted them to be happy. Did he feel those things when thinking about Minos? Yes, most of the time. Other times, he felt like he was being a burden to the man.

Now, romantic love. He did think about Minos a lot and was usually happy to wake up in the morning, because waking up meant he'd get to have breakfast with Minos. 

That… was about it, Gabriel reckoned. He really couldn't think of anything else right now. Yes, he'd get run over by a train if it were to make Minos happy. Yes, he'd stay up for several days straight, deep-cleaning the entire palace, if Minos were to want that. Hell, he'd do it with a smile on his face.

The rails just kept going, and going, and going. There was darkness ahead of them and darkness behind them, and he wasn't sure whether that was because they emitted light, or because the lights turned on when they were in range and off when they weren't.

“Why did we even come here? Whose shitty idea was this?” Gabriel practically faceplanted the screen on the tram, mainly out of boredom. A clank would distract him from the relative silence.

“...‘Twas thine.”

Oh, of course. This had been his shitty idea, to take a day trip to Violence. Why this layer, specifically? In Limbo, the constant humming of screens was enough to make him want to shove a screwdriver into his ears, not to mention how the sight alone hurt his eyes. Lust… was Lust. They both were pretty familiar with it by now.

Gluttony? It was gross, just plain gross. All the meat, tendons, eyes, teeth, and mucus… Yeah, no thanks.

Greed was way too hot, full of sand, and there was a fifty percent chance of him being there. There was also a fifty percent chance of that last bit being bad, and a fifty percent chance of it being good.

Wrath was, well… wet. Humid and stormy, and his apparent ‘number one fan’ resided there. Heresy would've been fine, except that he would much rather not relive those moments today. 

So Violence it was, with its winding halls and trauma-inducing Mannequins. He hoped to never see one again.

“Sounds about right…” Not thinking too much, he draped himself over the screen, observing the tracks disappear beneath the tram. “Why’d you agree to come?”

“Oh, for several reasons.” Minos grabbed the hem of Gabriel's shirt, just to be safe. His concern was appreciated.

“Such as..?”

“For one, to keep thee company. Second, I was also afraid thou might run off again, or third, get torn limb from limb.”

Mh, sure. Those could've happened, and I would've welcomed that last bit.

“There's no way I’d run off again, I’m trying to reinvent myself right now.” Gabriel paused. “Well, whatever ‘becoming what I once was’ counts as. I don't know if there's a word for that.”

“And… Why wouldst thou want that?”

“Why wouldn't I? I was so-”

Just as one track turned into three, the train they'd come down here with whizzed past them. Shouldn't it have been waiting at the other station already, or was there some sort of weird timer before it departed that station?

It’s fine. As long as we can get home, I guess.

“My apologies, angel, I did not hear the rest of thy response. Couldst thou repeat thyself?”

“...If only I could remember what I just said.”

Before long, they reached the end of the track, and continued onward to the next room. To his surprise, it was in a state of ruin. The pillars and seats were demolished, there was dried blood everywhere, and a sizable hole decorated the left wall. There was also a puddle of some leftover death juice in front of said hole. 

Hell could absorb stuff faster than that. Was that puddle there to taunt them? To ‘honour’ that thing's memory? Either way, he didn't want to get closer.

Neither did Minos, apparently, since he'd already gone through a door on the right and descended the steps. Gabriel followed without hesitation.

At the bottom of the steps was a train platform, and next to it sat the train. The doors were already open, so they stepped in, with Gabriel heading into the cab on the back. Stars, he just wanted to sleep all the way home…

…Machine?

In the cab was the machine. It was sitting on the floor, leaning against some sort of console or whatever. Upon closer inspection, he realised it was connected to the thing through a cable.

It… looked dead. It probably wasn't, it couldn't just die, but his heart hurt a little nonetheless. He crouched down next to it, and gently poked its unlit optic.

“Machine? Are you… Are you there?”

It wasn't dead, he was just imagining the worst case scenario again. Like he always did. Was this what it would've looked like if he'd succeeded the first time, just with less blood and injuries?

“Hey… Could you please wake up?”

Okay, fine. He was starting to get really fucking scared right about now. It'd only ever been this still when it was ‘rebooting’, and it never did that without warning.

“...Take your time.” He sat down next to the machine, staring intently into its optic. 

A minute --a very long one at that-- passed before its optic lit up once more. He resisted the urge to hug it. He couldn't just let it know he gave a shit about its wellbeing-

The machine probably knew already, as it pulled him into a hug upon waking up properly. Had it heard him say all that?

How embarrassing…

After a moment, the machine pulled out that little screen of its, most likely intending to explain itself.

*“The train has feelings now. Be nice.”

That wasn't what he'd been expecting. Anything but that, really. A train was just for transporting things, it really didn't need emotions. He was just for carrying out orders, and he had emotions even if he didn't need them. They got in the way.

“The train… The train now has what?”

Chapter Text

He was going to do it today. He had to do it today, he couldn't delay it any further. The machine had graciously given him so much extra time. ‘Until it starts snowing’, or whatever it'd said.

Yesterday had been a bad day for a confession, so he'd delayed it. Even before peeking into the grand library, he'd felt an intense aura of… hatred emanating from there. When he'd then mustered the courage to go in there, he'd witnessed Minos sitting on the couch as he always did, externally calm but with an air of vexation surrounding him. Gabriel hadn't dared approach him then.

But today was a new day. He didn't know why Minos had been so pissed off yesterday, but surely it'd passed by now? At least he'd seemed fine at breakfast.

Gabriel gripped the folded-up letter in his hand. He'd made a few revisions, but it was ultimately the same one he'd written before. It still had that rambling bit at the end, and his handwriting wasn't any better. He’d removed the bit about replying with a letter, though. Minos would just have to reply with words, or… Anyway. He'd give it to Minos. He'd give it. He'd… give it? Would he, really? His nerves would probably get the best of him again, he'd completely-

It'd go just fine. And if it didn't, he'd find somewhere else to stay. Though the machine would probably follow him, leaving Minos all alone, which wouldn't be good for any of them. He'd have to chain those two together if he wished to leave.

Minos would be in the library again, maybe. If he wasn't, Gabriel could in good conscience delay his confession for a day longer. Maybe two days.

No, no. He'd promised the machine. Sure, he'd broken a few promises, but that'd been a while ago. He was a changed man now, right?

He forced his legs to move, and his hand to grab the doorknob. He then forced himself to carefully push the door open, quietly close it behind himself, and tiptoe to a shelf. Then, he peeked out.

Minos was seated on the couch reading a book. Gabriel couldn't pick up a hint of anything but serenity, which was a good sign. Though the weather outside was anything but sunny, the rays of light still made him look nigh ethereal, almost like a… ghost? He was technically a ghost.

Don't think about that. Focus on getting the letter to him.

Gabriel shoved the letter into a pocket (his skirt had pockets, it was great), and approached the couch as casually as he could. His hands weren't shaking yet, which was a good sign.

“Ah, thou hast graced me with thy presence once more, angel. What a great continuation to a good morning.”

…Since when had Minos been that verbose? Something was probably off, but Gabriel was too focused on his mission to care. 

He sat down next to Minos, not saying a word, and shoved the letter into his hands. Gabriel didn't dare look. Just being here --staring at the floor-- was enough to make it feel like stakes were being driven through his abdomen. One look and he'd throw up.

I’m doing well, I’m doing well…

Repeating those words had little effect, and the silence was making this more nerve-wracking than it had to be. That silence was occasionally interrupted by the rustling of the paper in Minos' grip. Why wasn't he saying anything?

It'd been a minute or two now. Was he trying to figure out what to say, or how to reject him? How to let him down gently, how to crush his hopes and dreams, how to squash whatever feelings he might've had like a bug.

The wait was agonising, more agonising than the twisting of a blade in a wound. His fingers were tingling. His wings were numb. His mouth was dry. His ears were almost ringing.

Gabriel took a breath, and shook his head a little. It wouldn't matter if he got rejected. He had a plan in place, did he not? He'd be fine either way. Now, he just had to behave like was expected of him.

“So…” Gabriel began, forcing the nervousness out of his voice. “Thoughts?”

He almost got his hopes up when he heard Minos take a breath, but he quickly pushed those to the side. There was still a chance for his dreams to be crushed.

…Heh. ‘Dreams’. I don't even know what I want, how can I call them dreams?

“I would request thou give me some time to think about this.”

It felt like somebody had torn open his ribcage and was now squeezing his heart tightly, threatening to crush it. This was a rejection, wasn't it? If he actually felt something similar, he would've said it. It must've been a rejection.

“I require… a day, perhaps,” Minos added. Why was he drawing this out? Did he want to see Gabriel suffer?

“O-oh, okay…” He got up from the couch, swallowing the lump forming in his throat. “Alright. I… I can wait.”

● ● ●

The last thing it'd expected to find was Gabriel, sitting on the floor in his room, with his knees pulled up to his chest. His door had been locked, but it'd picked the lock instead of busting right through. It knew he didn't want any more things to deal with.

What it'd expected even less was for him to break down sobbing the second it wrapped its arms around him. Had he gotten rejected? It hadn't accounted for this, it'd thought them ending up together was guaranteed. Should it get them to try again?

It'd have to have a talk with Minos. Or rather, he'd have to have a talk with the muzzle of its gun. How dare he break its angel's heart like that?

…It did have to consider that this may not have been a rejection, but that he might've needed some time to put his thoughts in order. It'd assume rejection until proven otherwise.

For now, it'd just… gently hold Gabriel in its arms, carefully stroking his wing like it was made of glass. It'd assume he was done crying, only for him to break down again. It'd reach for a water bottle to give to him, only for him to pull it back into a hug. 

Its angel mumbled something incoherent between sobs, possibly an apology. He didn't need to apologise for anything, it wanted to tell him, he’d just gotten his heart crushed.

After a long while, V1 managed to slip free. It brought him the water bottle and tissues, shoved a plushie it'd bought from a terminal into his hands, and gave him a pat on the head (helmet?) before rushing out of the room. It was time to deal with Minos.

It was pretty late at night, but it knew Minos wouldn't be asleep. He never was. It knew why, but that didn't matter right now. 

V1 peeked into Minos' bedroom. There was no sign of him, so he must've still been downstairs. Lounge, probably. Or maybe the library? It'd check them in that order.

Lounge one, nothing. Lounge two, also nothing. Library, nope, not a sign of Minos. This game of hide-and-seek was getting a bit frustrating. Where was he when it needed to knock some sense into him? It didn't matter that he was twice or thrice its size and hit like a train, it didn't matter that he could fold it like origami without breaking a sweat, it didn't matter that he was terrifying when mad.

It went through every single room in the palace, only to find nothing, not even a hint of Minos. Who the hell leaves in the middle of the night without saying a word? Did he seriously just abandon them?

V1 decided to do a sweep of the garden for good measure. Surprise surprise, that was where its beloathed (not really) was, sitting in the gazebo, looking more miserable than he did when Gabriel ran off for the first or second time. He deserved to. He deserved to be miserable.

It was dark outside, but the faint glow of his body was enough to reveal him. He couldn't hide from it. Though he wasn't even trying to.

He didn't even look up when it approached. It was half-tempted to pull out a revolver, but refrained since Gabriel might've not wanted them to fight. Its hand was itching to hold some sort of weapon nonetheless.

It pulled out its small monitor. Turning on said monitor sent a jolt of ‘pain’ through its system, a dozen error messages popping up to cloud its vision. Now was not the time for this issue to flare up.

*“Why did you reject him???”

Minos stared at the monitor for a moment, before responding. “Hm? I simply stated I require some time to think.”

Did he now? Gabriel's reaction had implied otherwise, and though he did have a flair for theatrics, this heartbreak seemed genuine. But then again, it had a soft spot for him.

*“In those exact words?”

“Yes, word for word.”

…How did its angel take that as a rejection? Is it not natural for organic beings to need time to think about life-changing decisions? Public marriage proposals had been flawed for that exact reason, it'd concluded. Forcing someone to make a life-changing decision on the spot, with a whole crowd of strangers watching and almost forcing them to accept it even if they weren't ready. Sometimes it was glad humanity was technically extinct.

“He…” Minos paused for a bit. “He interpreted that as a rejection?”

*“Apparently.”

*“He's been crying about it all night.”

The night air felt noticeably colder when it said that, not that the cold affected it in any way. But it did take note of the temperature drop.

“...Is that so?”

‘Is that so’? Yes, it is so! Did he not understand the severity of the situation? He was going to end up all alone for the rest of eternity if he didn't act now, didn't he get that? Gabriel could be in the process of packing right now, yet here Minos was sitting like nothing was wrong, dallying and letting its angel just walk off and probably kill-

It was pretty sure Gabriel was too scared to die to do that. But since nothing was for certain, it had to worry about every possibility.

*“Fix it. Now.”

Minos hesitated to respond. This wasn't like him, was it? Did it have to shoot him to get him to act?

“Right now?”

*“Yes, right now. Immediately.”

…It probably would have to shoot him in order for him to act. Time was of the essence, yet he'd rather wait things out instead of fixing the issue? It wanted to call him a coward to his face, but it preferred staying alive.

“I… require until morning. May I have that, at the very least?”

Another request? Did he never run out of those? It hoped this would be the last one he'd have for a while, so it begrudgingly granted him this wish.

*“Fine. Until morning.”

● ● ●

He hadn't had the energy to leave that night, nor did he have any now. He was practically glued to the bed, curled up beneath the covers, facing the wall. 

The sun must've been pretty high up in the sky already, but he didn't care. He'd missed their usual breakfast time, but he didn't care. He'd gotten blood on his favourite shirt, but he didn't care. Last night had been the worst time to run out of bandages.

Worst of all, it'd caught him. Not in the act itself, but in the process of cleaning and wrapping up the mess. He should've been faster.

It'd finished up treating his injuries for him, tucked him into bed, and cleaned up everything including the tool used. He was starting to suspect that it cared.

…Why didn't it confiscate it? Everyone else would've. 

Was it because it was afraid he'd resort to using something even more harmful, something that'd have a higher risk of causing infection or even death? Probably. It always thought logically like that.

A knock at the door. That'd been the third one in the past half an hour, and the person behind the door never changed. The machine never knocked, obviously.

“...Angel? I-”

“Why won't you just leave me alone?!” He hated how his voice broke towards the end. “I’ve… I’ve told you, I don't want to talk to you!”

He knew Minos just wanted to apologise, to somehow make things better, but that was impossible now. There was no use fixing the shards of a shard. Crushed to smithereens, only for those smithereens to get crushed into more smithereens, and so on and so forth. It was pointless.

The door opened, before quickly slamming shut. That was the machine again, he assumed, closing the door in Minos' face like he deserved.

The machine waved a hand in front of his face to alert him to its presence. He was aware it was there, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless. It then lightly placed a hand on the shoulder that wasn't wounded, sat down on the edge of the bed, and peered over at his helmeted face. He wasn't taking it off, even if he trusted the machine now.

“Machine? Am I… in the wrong?” He asked quietly, afraid Minos might overhear him.

It shook its head and patted his shoulder. He couldn't help but still feel bad, like he should go and apologise to Minos. Like he was overreacting.

“...Really? I’m not sure if-” 

His own purrs interrupted him. The machine began gently stroking his currently grey wing, which he knew was just to distract him. He would've considered it a vile trick, but he found himself melting into the touch, nearly forgetting all his troubles in an instant. His wings faded from sorrowful grey back to a neutral blue.

“Stop that,” Gabriel sighed, and pushed its hand away. “...I need to wrap this up.”

He crawled out of bed, wincing as the bandages shifted slightly, tearing some injuries back open. Probably. He didn't care whether they healed or not right now.

Then, he did his morning stretches, ignoring the fact that Minos was probably still waiting behind the door. Gabriel could take his sweet fucking time getting up if he wanted to. He wasn't procrastinating.

After that, he changed his shirt to a clean one, choosing one of darker colour so that potential blood stains wouldn't show. He preened his wings meticulously, making sure all the feathers were in order. He'd have to look presentable if he wanted to take this rejection with dignity befitting of an angel.

Taking a deep breath, Gabriel then opened the door and marched right past Minos, not even giving him a glance. He needed breakfast in order to deal with the fuckery that would follow.

A pair of footsteps followed, and the machine quietly appeared next to him. Of course he'd follow. Despite the (un)righteous fury brewing within him, he kept his head held high. He'd probably cry otherwise.

He poured himself a cup of coffee from the thermos --why did Minos even bother, he wouldn't get a ‘thank you’-- and made himself a half-assed sandwich. Gabriel then sat down at the table, doing his best to ignore the person he didn't want to see sitting opposite of him. 

The machine was perched on the backrest of Gabriel's chair, which wasn't making him nervous at all. He took a sip of coffee, ignoring the thing looming over him, before biting into his sandwich. It was as shit as he'd expected.

“Gabriel-” Minos began, but quickly got interrupted. He didn't get to ruin this perfect silence.

“Shut up.”

Gabriel continued savouring his horrible sandwich and almost lukewarm coffee. Everything tasted like ash right now, no matter how much he tried to convince himself of his breakfast's tastiness. 

I bet he put sawdust in the dough to ‘add flavour’. He's the type to do that.

There most definitely wasn't sawdust in the bread he was eating, it was just his taste buds being weird. He just found it easier to blame someone else today.

“Angel, may I-”

“Do you ever stop talking?” 

He almost immediately regretted saying that. Seriously, had he forgotten how a person was supposed to act? He still wanted things to go back to normal, didn't he?

Gabriel, Gabriel… You're still an angel. Act like it.

“...Sorry,” he sighed, swirling his coffee around with the straw. He felt like he was constantly ‘poking the bear’. Surely Minos' patience wasn't infinite, it was only a matter of time until he got what he deserved.

● ● ●

Now Gabriel was being the unreasonable one. It’d gotten to read the response Minos had written to its angel's letter, and it was… not bad. In fact, it was exactly the thing he'd wanted, except that it was conveyed through an unnecessarily large amount of words when one would've been enough.

But the problem was Gabriel and his unwillingness to accept the fact that he'd overreacted. While yes, Minos could've been more clear in his request for more time, Gabriel also had to have realised that forcing someone to make a decision on the spot was inhumane.

Its angel was sitting outside in the garden, and though the weather had grown colder, he'd refused to wear a jacket. Apparently it was cold enough to snow, as the occasional snowflake floated down from the artificial sky.

V1 had been tasked with delivering Minos' letter. It had also tasked itself with getting Gabriel to wear a jacket so he wouldn't catch a cold, which it'd assigned to be its main mission. Love could wait, its angel's health came first.

It discovered Gabriel in the same gazebo it'd found Minos in last night, just staring at the floor. He gave it a glance when it approached, but then went right back to zoning out, wrapping his wings around himself.

This jacket had two decently sized holes on the back for his wings, which was why it'd chosen this one. It definitely wasn't the fact that it was his colour, blue. Well, technically it was both its and his colour, but that specific shade was his.

It put the letter aside for a moment as it put the jacket on him. He had started trusting it to not break his wings when it sometimes grabbed them a little more firmly, like right now when it was attempting to wrangle them through the holes on the jacket. It couldn't imagine life with wings that couldn't be tucked away completely.

“...What’s that?” Its angel nodded towards the letter as it zipped up his jacket for him. A little curiosity was good, that meant he hadn't completely given up on existence.

V1 then put gloves on him, even though he probably would've done it by himself. This was an excuse for it to inspect his hand. His fingernails had been cut and filed a few days ago, it seemed, but the skin around them was dry and a bit torn. There was also a hint of dried blood under his fingernails. It'd have to get him something else to pick at.

After making sure he was warm, it handed him the letter. He grabbed it eagerly, his gaze glued to the paper, almost inaudibly repeating every word written. It sat down next to him, and waited for him to finish reading.

By the end, Gabriel's wings were entirely pink. It assumed that was good, especially since his helmet was also gaining a pink hue, meaning he was very much blushing. He was so expressive even without a visible face.

He was practically melting into an angel puddle, which was becoming slightly more alarming the longer he just stared at the letter. V1 gently pried it from his hands.

“How… How should I react? How should I go on from here?” Gabriel leaned against its shoulder. The acceptance of his love confession seemed to have turned all his bones into jelly, which it deemed to be an abnormal reaction. 

It pulled out its monitor, its audials crackling painfully for a moment. Ugh, what was wrong with this fucking thing? The products it bought from the terminals usually were of good quality, what was this thing's problem? 

*“I don't know. Go kiss him.”

“...Kiss him? Oh, I don't know if I… I don't even know how to go about that.” Gabriel let out an awkward chuckle.

He couldn't be this clueless. Hadn't he read the fanfiction (of some random characters being in a relationship or something) provided by the palace terminal? Maybe he'd just forgotten.

*“Just smack your faces together.”

*“Like this.”

V1 bonked Gabriel's helmet with its optic, which had the effect of making his wings puff up and turn a shade more pink. What? This didn't count as a ‘kiss’, it was just an example.

“Y-you… kissed me? Just like that?”

Great, he was dumber than a brick. It often liked that about him, but not right now. He needed to understand that it wasn't competing for his heart or vying for a chance to bed him. It'd already secured what it wanted, that being access to his blood.

*“It’s not a kiss. Just an example.”

“...An example. Right.” Its angel sat up straight. “So, I just have to smack my face into his? But didn't the… work of literature you provided describe there being ‘tongue’ involved? What's that about?”

…Did it give him the more explicit one by accident? That one didn't have any scenes of the characters ending up in bed, but it did have people making out ‘sloppy style’, as the terminal had described it.

*“That's for people who have mouths.”

“I… have a mouth. Several, in fact.”

He what now? Several..? It'd always assumed there wasn't really anything under his helmet, that there was a substance similar to Minos' face goop in there that absorbed everything (including plastic lawn chairs).

“Well, there's the main one, but I can also have more if need be. Though those require energy to manifest.”

Oh, that was an angel thing. It'd read a lot about them having an infinite amount of eyes, mouths, and/or wings. Quite fascinating, really.

*“Then shove your head into his face hole.”

*“I don't care. Your choice.”

V1 stood up and gestured for him to follow. He immediately got up as well, following it back towards the palace so obediently it was starting to suspect he was actually a dog. He should act like that around Minos.

…That’d probably make him really concerned for its angel's sanity. No self-respecting angel would follow a random machine's orders to a T.

● ● ●

So… He was supposed to bonk Minos' (remnants of a) face with his helmet, right. That was really the only method available, since he wasn't yet comfortable with showing his face. Though that day might never come, who knows. Surely Minos would care about him all the same.

Gabriel was sitting on the opposite end of the couch from Minos. They were in the main lounge, with the machine perched on the armrest on his side, nudging him towards the other.

He slowly inched towards Minos, who was currently reading some book about who-knows-what. Plants, probably. That didn't matter, since Gabriel was on a mission.

…I’m going to fuck this up.

But despite expecting the worst, he inched forward until he was sitting right next to Minos, spending most of his brainpower on trying to stop his wings from fluttering. They'd give away his nervousness immediately.

I’m going to ace this, alright? At worst, he’ll think it's silly, and we'll live happily ever after.

An arm wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him closer, like it was normal for them to do this. Nothing about this was normal or usual in any way, whether it was down here or up in Heaven, the latter of which definitely wouldn't accept this. Unless things had changed.

Gabriel took this opportunity to bonk the side of (what remained of) Minos' face. Not too hard as to hurt, but not too lightly for the other to consider it maybe a mistake. This was very intentional.

This action made Minos freeze. Not literally, that would've been weird, but ‘freeze’ as in ‘he didn't quite know what to say or do’. Gabriel wanted to shrink and disappear between the couch cushions. This was more than embarrassing, more than humiliating, more than… His gaze was focused on his own hands, which were tightly gripping the hem of his skirt. Stars, he wished he could vanish on the spot. If only teleporting wouldn't knock him out cold for a day.

His chest hurt. This felt even worse than losing to the machine the first time, this was… humiliating? Yes, humiliating. He'd just humiliated himself in front of two people whom he very much cared about. Great.

“Did I… not do it right?”

Pathetic, he must've looked pathetic right now. He even sounded pathetic. Why did he have to be like this..? Why couldn't he at least fake confidence anymore?

“...‘Twas perfect, angel.” Minos scritched Gabriel's wing, which was definitely cheating when it came to making him happy again. “Quite lacking in confidence, but otherwise perfect.”

Alright, he'd done well. His next one would have to be flawless, though, to make up for the first. Maybe some other day.

Chapter Text

Gabriel wanted to be torn apart. If not literally, then at least emotionally, because that was the only thing he understood when wallowing in his stupid little puddle of misery. Love was too soft. It didn't hurt enough, it wasn't uncertain enough. It didn't leave him gasping for breath on the cold floor, it didn't make him bleed more than an angel was supposed to bleed, it didn't make him as happy as being taunted with death did. It wasn't the choreographed dance of blades he'd perfected over millennia. It was disgustingly sweet. It was disgustingly new and fresh and something he'd never truly experienced before. 

He'd been hesitant to just… be around Minos lately. He still couldn't get rid of the feeling that the other was just biding his time for revenge, as unlikely as that seemed. As undeserving of death as he was.

Currently, he was sitting at the desk in his room, gazing upon the snowy garden. Freezing his hands off building something from the snow was tempting, but he refrained. That'd be childish, and it'd just remind the other of what he'd lost. What Gabriel had taken.

“Angel?”

…There he was, with that sweet voice of his. That sweet, soft, ever-so-caring side of Minos, which Gabriel most definitely still did not deserve. But he'd try to ignore that.

“Yes, Minos?”

He couldn't help the pang of guilt in his chest. He should've been over it by now, he didn't deserve to be ‘traumatised’ by his own damn actions. Here they were, playing house, while millions lay dead beneath them. 

“Dost thou prefer tea or hot chocolate?”

Gabriel almost wanted to laugh at the question. They really were just playing house, the two of them. They were playing out what an ideal, loving relationship was supposed to be, simply because neither of them had anyone else. They both should've been-

“...Hot chocolate, maybe?”

He didn't particularly like hot chocolate, but something bitter and sweet would be fitting for him. Minos was currently very lacking in the ‘bitter’ department.

“Excellent. I was hoping thou wouldst choose so.” Minos placed a mug containing hot chocolate on the desk, keeping the cup of tea to himself. Was this a test, or a message? If it was, he couldn't read it. 

Stars, the heavy weight in his chest would not budge. He should’ve been happy that Minos was willing to indulge in this daydream of his, he should've been enjoying every minute like a good ‘partner’ was supposed to.

Pfft… ‘Partner’. That's hilarious.

Before Gabriel even realised it, a sniffle escaped him. Wait, was he seriously crying now? 

He struggled to swallow the lump in his throat and forced himself to breathe normally. There was no way he'd cry again, especially after that ‘thought I got rejected’ pity party he'd thrown less than three days ago. His undeserving body must've been trying to garner pity again. Disgusting.

Tears felt like bugs crawling down from beneath his helmet, but he refrained from wiping them away, as that'd just draw attention to his pathetic display. His gaze remained on the snowy garden outside, though it all seemed like one white blob. There was the taste of blood on his tongue. He'd probably bitten his lip again, but he couldn't really feel that. The pain usually came hours later.

Minos must've secretly found this hilarious, for a disgraced archangel to fall apart because of what? Some hot chocolate? It was ridiculous.

“What bothers thee so, my dove?”

That was just adding insult to injury. To call Gabriel --who was the furthest thing from a pure, innocent bird-- a dove… It was like comparing maggots to caterpillars. The latter at least had the ability to turn into something beautiful, Gabriel didn't even have that. His body had been maimed by his own hands.

“...There's so much wrong that I don't even know where to begin,” Gabriel sighed, and grabbed the mug of hot chocolate. It was comfortably warm in his hands. 

“Take all the time thou require.”

Gabriel tried to ignore how Minos pulled up a chair next to him and sat down, essentially forcing him to talk about what was wrong. Wasn't that just the best way to get someone to spill the beans?

“Well, for one… This feels so forced.”

“And by ‘this’ thou mean..?”

“Our relationship. Aren't you just with me because you're afraid of being all alone again?” He took a sip of his hot chocolate, and was surprised to find that it wasn't bitter at all. 

“Is that thy reason for being with me?”

No? While that was a part of it, he also saw Minos as someone to snuggle up to when cold or scared, someone to talk to when he wasn't feeling too great (like right now), and someone he could trust to not instantly ditch him if they got stuck somewhere. Being visually appealing was just a bonus.

Alright, that last part was a lie. That body was like half of Minos' appeal, to be fair, but Gabriel could've made it work even if he had his previous form.

…He was being weird about this again, wasn't he? The main thing was that the day felt a little brighter and more bearable with Minos around, most of the time. Today hadn't been one of those days.

“...Okay, I get it. You see something in me, then?”

Gabriel could imagine many reasons for somebody to want to date an angel. For one, the idea of managing to corrupt a divine being had been very tempting to some humans, back when they still existed. 

Second, angels had been created perfect in appearance. He'd, of course, gone and ruined that, but he didn't look half bad when clothed. 

Third, angels had been created obedient. Infinitely devoted and endlessly loyal, he would still give his life away if it were to make Minos happy. He reckoned he was more interesting alive.

Wait, no. He loves me. Loves me.

“Very much so.”

It was difficult to not smile at this point. Stars, what was it about that slightly deeper tone that got him? It was just a hair lower than his usual tone, yet --depending on the situation-- it could carry so many different meanings. It could be teasing, it could be threatening. It could be flirtatious. 

…Maybe he just really liked the attention.

“And would you mind explaining what exactly it is that you see?” 

He just wanted the boost to his ego, he told himself. He selfishly wanted to feel better about himself, to forget about how much he loathed-

“How many hours dost thou wish to stay in here for?”

● ● ●

It liked seeing him this happy. Whatever talk those two’d had must've really helped, since they were currently cuddling on the couch. It assumed that was cuddling, at least. It'd chosen to delete any pictures of humans cuddling it'd downloaded from a terminal for reference.

Its angel was… seemingly asleep, laying on top of Minos on the couch. Apparently he was cat-coded today. 

Gabriel's ceaseless purring filled the room as Minos casually stroked the angel's wing. It could only imagine how that felt, which was actually good since even imagining that was causing its processors to overheat. 

That must've been like sensory heaven. Seeing the other when he'd wake up, hearing the other's heartbeat, smelling the other's scent, feeling the other's warmth. It couldn't recall ever yearning for such things itself, but it saw the appeal. Each thing solidified the feeling that the other was there, right by him, and would stay there for the rest of eternity if need be.

V1 finished up its uninterrupted ten-minute recording of Gabriel purring, and scuttled out from its ‘nest’ in the grand library. It just needed a close-up picture of his helmet again, for reasons.

Unfortunately, it forgot to turn off the shutter sound this time. Its angel jolted awake, hitting the floor with a thud before quickly scrambling to his feet. Of course his first instinct was to run. He was growing soft.

“Oh, it's just… you.” Gabriel sank to the floor, leaning against the couch. Did he always lose all bone density when recovering from a scare? 

V1 plopped down in front of its angel, staring right at him intently. It was thinking of trying their original method of refuelling again. 

It recalled him being elated during all but one of their encounters, that being their very first meeting. It reckoned he'd started kind of enjoying it after that, maybe seeing it as an opportunity to make himself perfect again after suddenly not being so perfect anymore. Was he still that preoccupied with perfection?

Ignoring the crackle of its audials and the sharp pain, V1 pulled out its horrible, evil monitor that deserved to rot. It'd get rid of it one day.

*“Let's duel.”

Gabriel’s wings fluffed up in an instant, which it took as an indication of him considering it. At least that'd awakened some sort of emotion in him. 

“Duel? Oh, I don't know, I haven't… You know I haven't actually trained in over a year now, and I… don't think it'd even be fun for you, fighting somebody who's basically forgotten how to fight.” He fidgeted with his wing, even as Minos attempted to stop his fingers from plucking feathers. That wasn't the reaction it'd sought.

*“Let’s spar, then. I’ll go easy.”

“I’m not that soft, machine. I’ll start remembering the moves if you hit me hard enough.” Gabriel got up with a heavy sigh. “Though I can't guarantee that I won't break several bones in the process.”

“...And that sounds exhilarating to thee, doth it not?”

That response caused its angel's wings to briefly flash pink and orange at the tips, before returning to normal. A natural reaction to getting accused of being a masochist.

“Minos, I am not into pain. Getting hurt just means I haven't tried hard enough, which evokes some mixed emotions, because I’m supposed to be perfect in everything, including combat. That comes with being an angel.”

*“A complicated way of saying you like get-”

*“getting your shit kicked in.”

“Listen, if I get all my ribs broken in the process, that's just a bonus.” Gabriel tapped the top of V1’s head with a finger. “Mainly because then I'll get a certain somebody whose name starts with an ‘M’ to dote over me like I’m a fragile little flower.”

“I would do so regardless, I reckon.”

It looked over at Minos, who was currently running his fingers through its angel's feathers. Gabriel smacked him with a wing for that. Too much sensory input at once, it assumed.

“Really, now? Then how come I wake up every morning without breakfast being served to me in bed?” Its angel crossed his arms, letting out a small huff. In a princessy mood now, was he?

“Thou hast never requested such services.”

“...That doesn't mean it wouldn't be nice.”

V1 added a reminder for next morning. It'd make sure this wouldn't drive a wedge in their relationship, since even the smallest issues could snowball over time. Someone not pairing the socks correctly could become an insurmountable issue in a few years’ time, so what's to say the lack of ‘breakfast in bed’ couldn't?

“I shall keep thy wish in mind going forth.”

● ● ●

A duel it was, then. It would've been a lie to say that he wasn't nervous, because his legs absolutely were turning into wobbly sheets of plastic watching the machine polish one of its many guns. He wouldn't last two seconds against its entire arsenal.

Gabriel was imagining all the possible ways this could end badly. He could get electrocuted and actually die, or he could get exploded into smithereens and also actually die. Death didn't sound as tempting as it had just a few months back.

They were currently in an open, snow- and rubble-free area of the city, with him donning his full set of armour (which included the gloves required for handling his blades), and the machine… fucking around with its weapons. Minos was off to the side, because the machine had insisted that he bear witness to ‘every side of Gabriel’, whatever that meant. He wasn't any different when he fought, that was ridiculous. 

“Hey, machine.”

The machine immediately stopped whatever it was doing upon being called, scuttling over to him. Oh, it would’ve made for a horrifying sight in the middle of the night when he was half-asleep. Trudging down the hall towards the kitchen, in the pitch-black darkness of the night, the only thought in his head being the need for an ice cold glass of water. He’d glance down the hall upon hearing a small noise, only to see a bright yellow orb approaching him at lightning speed. That’d never happened before, but he kept the possibility in mind.

“I have decided that you shall be limited to using only one weapon. It doesn't matter which, but it cannot be more than one,” Gabriel said, continuing when the machine tilted its head. “...Because it'd be unfair for you to be able to use your full arsenal when I only have my blades.”

It rolled its ‘eye’, but begrudgingly obliged, holding up a revolver as if asking for his approval. Wasn't that the green one? The coin one?

“Absolutely not. Are you aware of how hard those coins are to remove? I spent at least an hour digging those out after last time.” 

He would’ve much rather forgotten that memory. It’d left him barely clinging onto life in some hidden, forgotten corner of Violence, his body riddled with bullet holes. Abandoned, again. He vividly recalled digging a finger into a bullet wound on his abdomen, only to then promptly pass out from the sheer agony of it. They got easier and faster to remove after the fifth one, and before long, he’d ended up with a grand total of fifty coins. Fifty utterly worthless coins. He'd kept one as a memento.

…He forced himself to forget about how utterly pathetic he'd been then, pushing through tears and mucus and muscle and fat, all for the sake of those little gifts from it. Did it ever think of them like that? 

A poke at his exposed midsection pulled him back into the present. The machine stared right through his undeserving soul, holding what he assumed to be a railcannon in its hands. The weapon was glowing a malicious red, which he assumed meant that it'd very much hurt to get shot with. Perfect.

“...Sure, sure. That'll do.” He just wanted to get to the ‘main course’ already. This was just delaying the thorough ass-beating he'd get, delaying his spectacular ego-obliteration.

The machine scurried to one end of their ‘arena’, ready whenever he was. He did one last check of Justice and Splendor --they were perfect, as always-- and made his way to the other end. 

It waited. He waited, they waited. It took him embarrassingly long to realise that it was waiting for him to start things off. It'd always waited. Though it was the first to approach, it'd always waited for him to finish his little speeches. Even that time in Violence. It'd waited for him to lunge.

So, that was just what he did. He rushed forth, Splendor grazing the concrete behind where the machine stood seconds ago. Miss. His second strike hit the barrel of his opponent’s weapon with a clank, though, but that also meant he was within explosion distance. All he saw was white. 

His skin felt warm, like it was on fire. He rushed forward nonetheless, not able to help the laugh escaping him as his opponent nimbly dodged each and every stab and slice. Typical. He'd have to start predicting its moves better.

The next strike was aimed for where Gabriel guessed his opponent would be. His prediction ended up correct, Justice nicking its chassis and creating a visible gash where it'd hit. Satisfying. How satisfying it was for his prediction to be correct.

A shot hit him in the arm, causing his grip on Justice to falter. The next moment, he realised he was now left with one blade, but that didn't mean defeat. He still had Splendor, he'd be fine. His wings already ached and his arms hurt, but he'd be fine.

His opponent taunted him. It was taunting him with its proximity, just within reach. He managed to sever a small wire with his next strike. It flashed a brief thumbs up to signal it wasn't anything vital, which only encouraged him. Oh, he'd hit something vital. He would hit something vital soon.

Nothing around them mattered, just his blue opponent and the red decorating the grey ground beneath them. His red, its red. It ran on his blood, so technically it was all his, every drop that stained his hands and its chassis.

…Stars, was he drooling? How vile.

A second, well-placed shot separated him from Splendor. He suddenly didn't even miss them, those extensions of him, almost as if they truly weren't even separate. Just body parts, he could afford to lose those. Such a peculiar thing he was. 

Now left without blades, Gabriel acted on pure instinct. Just doing what felt right. His sharp teeth sank into metal with ease, and in one quick motion, he separated the red arm from the rest of the body. He spat it out, and continued his assault. 

His opponent was now a little off-balance, which resulted in it stumbling for just half a second. He took this opportunity to land several more hits. Around half hit their mark, while the rest threw his opponent off further, just enough for his teeth to meet metal again.

He got kneed in the stomach before he could make a repeat of the tragedy of the red arm. This did little to deter him, as he immediately went in for a second bite. 

Though he was unsuccessful again, he got a cord around his throat for his efforts. His opponent jumped back, fired its weapon into his chest, before pulling itself to him with the cord to get its precious fuel. He saw dots for a second.

Gabriel grabbed a hold of his opponent's arm, the one holding that blasted (ha, get it?) weapon, so it couldn't create any more distance. He'd… he'd win this. He'd win this.

With his full weight, he slammed his opponent hard into the concrete below. His body also kind of hurt from the impact, but that didn't matter, for he'd heal within a month from that. He then tore the weapon from his opponent's grip, and tossed it to the side. It didn't need that.

Oh, this was the feeling he'd been missing out on. To have this machine --this bringer of death, this force of nature-- squirming in his grip, futilely kicking and clawing at him. Had he looked this pathetic too?

…He didn't want to know what he looked like right now. He was still the perfect archangel Gabriel, wasn't he? Even with blood dripping down his chin and onto its… the machine’s plating? He was breathing heavily and his limbs felt heavier than ever, but he was happy.

“Ha… I’ve still got it,” he muttered, before exhaustion managed to swallow him whole, enveloping him in the warm embrace of its darkness. He never liked thinking much, anyway.

● ● ●

It hadn't expected him to actually bite, he'd always seemed too dignified for such savagery. And to tear out an arm and toss its weapon aside with such blatant disregard for its condition? Heartless.

But such was combat. They hadn't set any rules saying that he had to stick to using his blades, so this was allowed. It wasn't like it couldn't reattach that arm, it was getting quite skilled at that, but that didn't mean it wasn't annoying to have to do so.

Gabriel had awoken in the middle of being carried back to the palace. Based on his reaction then, he didn't appear to be a big fan of being carried over Minos' shoulder. Thus, he was currently being carried in the other's arms instead, seeming coherent but extremely tired.

“Angel? I must inquire about one particular thing, if thou hast the energy to answer.”

“Mh?” Its angel looked up a little. It was certain he was smiling faintly, as his wings gained a hint of gold. A part of V1 felt like only it was allowed to get that combination of wing colours out of him.

“Is the… helmet also thy face?”

A fair question. Those teeth had not been those of the mouth it supposed was beneath his helmet, so maybe the helmet itself had teeth? It'd opened up right above that golden bit around the chin.

“Can be. Usually not.”

That explained nothing when it came to the ‘how’. It assumed that was an angel thing too, same as how he could summon things out of seemingly thin air. Perhaps just like the aforementioned skill, this too took up a lot of energy, the same as its little monitor did. An extension of sorts.

“Did you… Did you like that? My fighting, I mean.” If Gabriel had a tail, it would've been wagging up a storm right now. “Was I good?”

“Better than good. I could not tear my gaze away from thee for even a second.”

V1 didn't really care for listening to those two flirt right now, so it picked up the pace. They'd catch up eventually. It had an arm to reattach and a railcannon to fix, preferably as soon as possible. 

Getting used to the reduced weight on one side was a bitch, as was the constant stream of error messages flooding its vision. This may have been how its successor had felt that one time. It was the same arm that'd been torn off, too.

It basically cradled the knuckleblaster in its remaining arms as it rushed towards the palace. Some scrap metal would be needed to replace the shredded parts (and the bits of metal he probably ate). Oh, and it'd have to do so much soldering and welding and whatnot, which would take up the rest of its day and then some. 

Once at the palace, V1 made its way to the cellar, where the familiar terminal sat, as unbothered as ever. It'd get the necessary equipment from that. 

The terminal’s screen lit up when it approached, greeting it with a mocking yet jovial attitude. That lifted its mood a little. It connected the cable on the side to itself for the sake of easier communication, and plopped down on the floor by the terminal.

>> Good evening, V1. 

>> Got a little clumsy there, did you?

> Shush. It was a good sparring session.

That was true. Despite the injuries it incurred and the weapon that got damaged, it'd had fun. Best of all, it'd gotten so many points, most of which it'd never end up using.

>> Sparring? So you have new footage of the angel?

> I’ll hold onto it until the value goes up.

>> Cheapskate.

V1 began the process of reattaching the knuckleblaster. It figured some light conversation would make this experience less dull, so it continued as it began first soldering wires back together.

> By the way, I found you a friend.

>> Ooh… Can I meet them?

The only reason for such eagerness was probably because the terminal wished to beat the other terminals when it came time to compare this year's sales. Not that it'd get to keep those points, V1 had heard they stashed everyone's points away so they could start the next year with a clean slate. 

…Did they stash them away or just ‘burn’ them? It wasn't quite sure.

> It needs a body first. It wanted the body of a Drone.

>> It… wants to float around and squeak all day? 

That was a pretty shit bias to have. Drones were also easy to blow up, and lacked any kind of self-preservation instincts. Though that was only when they also had the mind of a Drone. Its train friend would definitely fear death. Unless it had backups, in which case it didn't need to have such a fear.

>> Drones don't even have arms.

> You can make some.

>> That'll cost you, you know. 4.7 million points plus 300k for the arm.

…Hm. Five million was a steal when it came to constructing a whole body. It was the price of five custom paint jobs for its weapons, which wasn't too bad. It could easily rack up five million points in a couple Cybergrind runs.

Oh, and selling Gabriel pictures could aid in that too. Just one good shot of its angel could be worth half a million points, or even a million if it was of the more vile nature. V1 would much prefer two good normal shots over one lewd one. Mainly because Gabriel probably wouldn't like that, but also because the terminals did not deserve to see him in such a state of indecency.

> Deal.

>> Your finances are kind of f■cked, V1, if you keep spending like this. 

> Don't you appreciate my patronage? 

> You were just complaining about your lack of funds.

V1 couldn't see what the issue was. It could always earn more, whether it was through Gabriel pictures or Cybergrind. Money and points were created to be spent. There was no point (oh hey, a pun) in hoarding something that could be gone in an instant, whether it was because of a system error or a fire.

>> But what do I do if my favourite customer goes broke?

> Your only customer.

>> Ow.

After soldering the wires and making sure everything worked fine, it began welding the necessary bits. The terminal offered a replacement joint for the low price of a quarter million points.

> So, will you make that Drone body?

>> Yes, yes, I’m working on it. This'll take a long while, by the way, so you might have to wait a few days.

> Don't add any extra features.

>> A retractable arm?

> That's fine. But nothing else.

The two continued working on their respective things, V1 on its arm and the terminal on that Drone body. Once its arm repairs were complete, it couldn't help but notice that the terminal was working on something wholly unnecessary, namely some custom lighting things. 

> …I can see you're planning on adding RGB lighting to it. 

> I’m not paying for that.

>> It's a bonus, to make it easier for our new friend to indicate its emotions.

> How thoughtful of you.

● ● ●

“Do you want to spar sometime?”

They were in the main lounge, with Minos seated on the couch, and Gabriel on the floor in front of the fireplace. A few blankets were wrapped around him, for comfort.

“...I do reckon I would incapacitate thee in a matter of seconds.”

“Mhm? I like your confidence.”

In all honesty, he was still feeling pretty fired up from sparring with the machine and winning. He preferred to think it hadn't gone easy on him, even though it probably had, because that'd just make him feel bad for ripping its arm off.

Speaking of the machine, it appeared right by him, plopping down cross-legged on the floor. Its red arm looked as good as new, though there was a clear line where it'd used some… scrap metal? Maybe he could've torn it off a bit more neatly.

“Come to crown me the winner, have you?” Gabriel couldn't help but gloat a bit. He'd definitely earned this victory, and as such he'd take every bit of serotonin it could offer.

The machine tapped his helmet right beneath the cross, and then tilted its head. It took him a while to realise what it meant by the action.

“...Ah. Worry not, I won't bite off any more of your arms. That mouth's gone.”

The upper ‘eyelid’ of the machine's optic lowered, signalling that he got it completely wrong. It then took out its little monitor.

*“I want to inspect it.”

…Huh. 

That was not what he'd expected. He probably should've been prepared for this, though, since it did seem to have a strange fascination with his physical form. 

*“I want to know how many teeth you have.”

“At least one. Does that sate your curiosity?”

It stared at him for a long while, squinting as its gaze burrowed into Gabriel's very core. Maybe that'd been the wrong thing to say.

“...Sorry, bad joke,” he said quietly. It probably expected an actual response, so he continued. “Also, you may not inspect my teeth.”

Chapter Text

Yesterday, Gabriel had decided to suggest that they visit the botanical garden today, completely forgetting that it was the middle of winter. Temperatures were below freezing and snow blindness was imminent, but… Minos had really liked the idea, so Gabriel couldn't just move that trip to when spring came back around.

But, back to where he was now. Getting out of bed had never felt harder. Sure, he'd tried, but the air in the room was just so chilly, and he'd freeze his little limbs off if he had to endure such biting cold for even a second.

Breakfast in bed, breakfast in bed…

He was trying to subconsciously message Minos that he'd like his breakfast in bed this morning. It wouldn't work, obviously, but he could try.

Gabriel rolled over in bed, and closed his eyes. His knees were pulled up to his chest and wings wrapped around him, cold hands gripping his shins, yet he was freezing. One blanket hadn't been enough.

There was a knock at the door. Just the man he'd sought, the man he hoped would fix the fucking heating in this place. Maybe the insulation, too.

“Angel? May I come in?”

He felt warm just hearing that voice. It sent the butterflies in his chest into overdrive, which almost transformed into the stabbing pain of anxiety in his gut. He hated how those two emotions were so closely linked. Excitement and anxiety, they were basically the same thing except that one was happiness and one fear.

“Not unless you're bringing me breakfast.”

“Ah, ‘tis my lucky day, then.” Minos pushed open the door, a breakfast tray carefully balanced in one hand. He then set the tray on the nightstand.

…Had he died and gone somewhere nice? There were two rolled-up crêpes filled with whipped cream and some kind of jam, sitting side by side, and decorated with strawberries and even more whipped cream. The gorgeous dessert was almost enough to make him ignore the large mug of coffee next to it. Almost, since the need for caffeine hijacked his brain even at the mere scent.

He was happy. He… was very happy. Some time ago, he wouldn't have even thought about this possibility, considering it an impossibility for him and Minos to get along. Yet there they were.

“You… made these?” Gabriel couldn't quite find it in himself to believe that Minos could… bake? Was making crêpes baking or cooking? He didn't know, and it didn't matter, since in his head Minos couldn't do either of those.

“I did, with some assistance from thy little friend,” Minos explained, and sat down on the edge of the bed. That was very… Didn't he usually pull up a chair or something? What was up with that?

…Wait. Oh, no. Does he think I'd..? 

No, no, he's smarter than that. We're not there yet --we may never be-- and he knows that. He wouldn't… do something so stupid intentionally. Right?

It would've been fair to say that Gabriel was massively overthinking this simple action. Someone sitting on the edge of a bed while the other was in said bed was completely normal, it didn't specifically mean anything. Maybe that they were close, but nothing more. It had no deeper meaning.

Gabriel sat up properly and grabbed the fork and knife, before digging in. The knife cut into the crêpe with ease (like a sharpened blade into flesh), revealing the gorgeous shade of red (jam, not blood) within. Strawberry jam, possibly. The whipped cream hadn't melted into a liquidy white goop, suggesting Minos had waited for the crêpe to cool sufficiently before adding the fillings. 

As for the taste, it was fine. A bit too sweet for his liking, but as Minos had gone through the trouble of making this delicious breakfast just for him, Gabriel couldn't not like it. 

“Dost thou find them palatable?”

“Mhm.” Gabriel paused and swallowed the bit of crêpe he was eating. “Did you seriously make these yourself?”

“I did, yes.”

There was suddenly a hand on his cheek. Well, the cheek of his helmet, but that was basically the same thing. Gabriel froze nonetheless. 

Holy shit… A kiss? It's going to be some sort of a kiss, right?

Minos' finger brushed his cheek a few times, before the hand retracted. “There was whipped cream on thy helmet.”

…Oh, that was what it was. How embarrassing of him to think otherwise. How dare he think there was any deeper meaning to such a tender and caring gesture. How dare his heart jump into his throat, how dare his breath hitch. 

Minos seemed quite uncertain as to what to do with the whipped cream that now was on his thumb, whether he should eat it or wipe it off. Gabriel's silly little brain made the decision for the both of them, as he lifted his helmet up a little, and without hesitation licked the whipped cream right off. How silly of him.

It only hit him a few seconds later how fucking weird that'd been. An angel, licking whipped cream of all things off of his supposed enemy's finger, like some kind of… like some kind of dog. What the hell was wrong with him?

He hesitantly looked up, just to see Minos staring at him. Well, he assumed Minos was staring, as for obvious reasons it wasn't too easy to tell if he was. Gabriel's wings may have flushed equally pink and orange just then.

“Sorry, that was… highly inappropriate of me. I’m sorry.” He focused his attention back to his breakfast, which was now only half a crêpe and an almost empty mug of coffee. He should maybe add ‘master of demolishing crêpes’ into his nonexistent CV. 

“I understand. The allure of whipped cream is quite hard to resist at times.”

…Yeah, sure. Sure. It's the allure of whipped cream. It's that.

● ● ●

It'd done all the preparations for their trip. A sufficient amount of snacks (twenty identical sandwiches, for two people), extra clothes in case theirs weren't enough or got wet (it was very cold outside), and blankets in case they decided to spend the night. Oh, and several (eight) pairs of socks. Frostbitten feet weren't exactly fun to have.

These preparations, it'd done them the night before, believing they'd set off first thing in the morning. That had turned out to be a lie, as Gabriel had still been in bed when noon came around. Minos had then brought his breakfast to him, which hadn't helped the situation, but at least that was something of a bonding opportunity for the two. After that, they'd done some pointless couples’ things around the house, like cuddling. 

But at least they were ready now, a few minutes away from four in the afternoon. The sun was already starting to set --the artificial sky’s attempt at simulating life in the Northern Hemisphere-- so this was like the worst time for them to depart. Nights were even colder than days.

…Its angel was happy, though. He tended to be happier when he got adequate rest, tasty breakfast, and enough physical contact. Now that he'd gotten all of the above, he was ready to face the harsh winter.

Gabriel was wearing the thickest clothes he could find, so a winter jacket on top of a woollen sweater, mittens on top of gloves, and at least two thick scarves to protect his neck from the cold. That was all good and fine, if only he applied his ‘winter dress’ logic also to his legs. He was only wearing his signature skirt and knee-length socks, along with winter boots a size too large in order to accommodate his woolly socks. Nothing else.

V1 deemed it likely that he wanted to get a cold, possibly so that Minos could nurse him back to health again. What a weirdo. He could just lie about being sick like a normal person, instead of actually getting himself sick.

“How stupid do I look?” 

“Thou seem perfectly fine, angel.” Minos gave Gabriel's wing a light stroke, which automatically got a purr out of its angel. “What shall we do with these?”

“...What about them?”

It sat by the door, foot tapping on the ground impatiently. Yes, it was very happy for them, but could they not do their cutesy couples' things outside?

“Are they not susceptible to frostbite?”

Minos raised a good point. If its angel's fingers were susceptible to frostbite, why wouldn't his wings be?

“Probably not. I mean, no angel has ever gotten frostbite on their wings. Other appendages, sure, but not wings,” Gabriel replied, sounding as if he'd been one of those angels to get frostbite on some other appendage. Huh.

“That is a relief, then.”

V1 grabbed their two bags’ worth of supplies, and waited in front of the main entrance. Gabriel had wrapped a scarf around its neck, which it'd decided to keep on, even knowing that it actually didn't need one. The thing would eventually get caught in some joint, it was sure.

When it was starting to look like those two were going to do some lovey-dovey couples' thing again, V1 tossed a woolly hat towards them.

“Yes, yes, we're coming,” Gabriel sighed, and took Minos' hand. 

They did look pretty cute together like that, it had to admit. Without much thought, it took a picture to remember this moment, before pushing open the door and rushing out.

● ● ●

The city ruins looked quite pretty covered in snow, especially when that scene continued as far as the eye could see. However, he… wasn't sure if he was allowed to think like that. It could be seen as him admiring the destruction he'd had his hand in, completely disregarding the fact that so much blood was spilled, so many met their end in paralysing fear as their-

Gabriel hadn't realised how hard he'd been gripping Minos’ arm until the latter let out a soft sound of discomfort. He didn't want to hurt the man, he couldn't afford to. He couldn't afford to fuck this up. 

…How were those survivors doing? The ones that'd hit him multiple times with a pan? They must've been cold… Unless their heating still worked, in which case they'd be relatively fine. Save for the food department, of course, as mortals couldn't simply summon sustenance from thin air. Maybe he should pay them a visit someday. 

The botanical garden appeared in the distance, right ahead of them. He'd expected to see it under tonnes of snow, maybe even crushed under the weight, but no. It still stood.

When they got closer, he realised there wasn't even any snow covering it. Was it just that hot in there, or… was someone manually removing every bit of snow? Gabriel was leaning towards the former.

Once at the door, the machine handed the bags it'd been carrying to Minos, and gestured for them to wait as it dug out a weapon from its arsenal. That stupid coin-spewing revolver again… At least he wasn't on the receiving end of it.

“I’m… pretty sure that place is empty, machine. You don't have to-” He was interrupted by the machine shoving its little monitor in his face.

*“You'd die first in a horror movie.”

What was that supposed to mean? He'd never seen a horror movie (not because he was scared of them or anything), but he was pretty sure he'd survive one with his combat skills.

He had no chance to protest, however, as the machine then rushed into the… building? That definitely counted as a building, though it was much more like a greenhouse. Did greenhouses count as buildings?

“...I wouldn't die first in a horror movie,” he muttered, leaning his head against Minos’ shoulder. 

“To be fair, I reckon thou wouldst,” Minos replied, and quickly continued. “But not due to idiocy.”

“Due to what, then?”

“Thy tendency to sacrifice thyself for the greater good.”

…Well, wasn't he just spot-on. Yes, Gabriel tended to do that, because that usually was the option that had the best outcome. Why risk the lives of many, when he could risk his own and spare them from even realising there could've been a threat to their existence?

“Stop reading me like a book. It's weird.”

“Then cease making thyself so transparent.”

Minos was about to continue, but the sound of a gunshot and shattering glass interrupted him. Was that a warning shot, or..?

Not taking even a second to think, Gabriel rushed into the structure that probably wouldn't qualify as a building. That may have been a stupid move, since he didn't have his trusty blades with him, but he'd be fine. He had himself, didn't he? A weapon honed to perfection, then discarded, and --after a while-- picked up and polished once more.

There were… so many Mannequins. Weren't they supposed to be confined to Violence? Perhaps he was hallucinating. Yes, he… he had to be hallucinating, there was no way these things were up here.

The crowd of (definitely not real) Mannequins were completely surrounding the machine in the narrow pathway. It was frantically pointing its revolver at every single one of them, one after the other. Their gazes met for a fraction of a second.

As revolting as the thought of being anywhere near a Mannequin was, Gabriel forced himself to push through the unmoving crowd. But unfortunately, as luck would have it, he tripped and fell just as he managed to get through.

All manner of awful scenarios flashed through his mind. They'd tear him limb from limb, their numbers too vast for the machine to eliminate them all until it was too late. He'd get eviscerated, he'd get crushed, he'd get maimed and mauled and-

He turned onto his back, and saw a scene that surprised him. A… A Mannequin appeared to be extending a hand (two?) towards him. Was it offering a hand to help him up?

No, that was ridiculous. That was ludicrous, those were enemies! They were supposed to pounce at a chance to hurt him, not to help him..!

Why, then --believing this all to be a ploy-- did he accept the help? He had to have lost it, he had to have. The machine seemed to agree with the sentiment, as it immediately shot at the Mannequin helping him once he was on his feet. The crowd around them scattered at that.

“What was that for?!” Though Gabriel looked, he could no longer see any sign that Mannequins had ever been there.

The machine made a gesture indicating it didn't see what the big deal was, before digging out its monitor.

*“I was saving you.”

“From what? It… It was helping me.”

He could scarcely believe what he was saying. Was he seriously swayed by one seemingly kind act? It was no wonder he'd been so easily puppeted by some-

*“Don’t trust the enemy.”

“Says you,” Gabriel countered. “You trusting me counts as ‘trusting the enemy’, y'know.”

Rolling its eye, the machine turned around and continued its exploration of the botanical garden, gun still in hand. He didn't really care about protecting it anymore, if he was being honest. It could rile the ‘enemies’ up all it wanted.

Instead, he returned to the door, where Minos was still waiting with the bags. A part of Gabriel wished the guy would've rushed in alongside him just then, but… oh well.

“...Mannequins.” Gabriel grabbed one of the bags from the other. “The machine insists on killing them, and there's nothing I can do to stop it from tearing down that greenhouse to achieve its goal.”

“How… lovely.”

● ● ●

Its angel had to have lost his mind. Mannequins only had the ability to fire orbs and stay perfectly still, not ‘be nice’. They were just taking advantage of his seeming weaknesses, his defenselessness, his lack of interest in decimating them. 

Speaking of Hell's golden boy, he was currently sitting on the edge of the platform that housed the two intertwined trees, not at all worried about the enemies that could be lurking about. Maybe because he had Minos right by his side to protect him from all things bad, or perhaps he trusted V1 to alert him to anything suspicious.

“...You’re supposed to be looking at the plantlife, not me.” 

V1 couldn't tell what they were doing at the moment (since it was on the other side of the platform) but it could guess. The most likely option was that Minos had been staring at Gabriel like some kind of lovesick puppy.

“My apologies. It appears I have been captivated by thy charm, and find myself unable to escape.”

Cheesy. Did that count as cheesy? Its system had flagged it as such, but it wasn't quite certain as to the true definition of it.

“Shut up…” 

It didn't listen on further, as it'd just spotted movement in the foliage directly to its right. The figure was clearly a Mannequin, attempting to sneak closer to Gabriel, closer to its precious source of fuel and… entertainment? Anyhow, the Mannequin was obviously trying to ambush him. As such, it fired a warning shot in its direction, and it scuttled away. A glass pane was shattered in the process.

“Machine! Stop shooting at them, we have Minos here if they decide to do anything that could even remotely threaten my existence.”

‘Minos’ this and ‘Minos’ that… A ‘thank you’ wouldn't hurt, since it was trying to protect him, and he was well aware of that. And besides, Minos would be just as destructive as it was if he decided to fight those Mannequins. There would be no botanical garden after that.

“...Me?”

And the worst part was that Minos wasn't even trying to take its place. Its angel had simply decided that Minos --a pacifist turned quite homicidal before becoming a pacifist again-- could protect him better than a being that was literally created to end lives. He was getting stupider by the day, and that was concerning.

“Hm, what? You wouldn't protect me if I was in a life-threatening situation?”

“I would, but-” Perhaps Minos could tell what Gabriel was trying to do. Kicking V1 out of their crumbling palace so they could spend the rest of eternity together, as if it was a threat to their relationship. Ultimately, it just wanted him to be happy.

“Exactly.”

Having had enough of just thinking about how it felt, it marched over to the other side of the platform, and shoved its monitor in his face.

*“What are you trying to do here?”

“...What do you mean?” 

Playing dumb, such a great tactic. So cute. Worked every time. He'd get away with that too, if only it were to feel anything stronger than platonic love towards him. But it didn't. 

*“You’re replacing me with him.”

V1’s body was telling it to run, for some strange reason. It knew he wouldn't hurt it outside of combat, but it was still very much on edge, system calculating all the directions it could run to.

“That's… news to me. What reason would I have to replace you? I… I mean-”

*“Then explain why I feel like this.”

Its angel paused at that, looking even more lost than he had when it'd left him in Treachery that one time. What was up with that? It wasn't trying to abandon him, he was trying to abandon it.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” Gabriel shook his head lightly. “I’m sorry, I… don't know what to say. My mind's drawing a blank right now.”

*“Think harder.”

He seemed… almost panicked at that. Why was he panicking? It was just asking him to provide some sort of an answer as to why it felt like he was trying to get rid of it. 

…Oh. He was shaking. Was he actually, seriously panicking at that? It was starting to feel like a bad person for causing this kind of a reaction in him.

V1 crouched down next to Gabriel and waved a hand in front of his face. It'd help if he could at least break down crying, because that meant it'd be able to do something to comfort him.

“Angel?”

Even Minos was joining in on trying to get a peep out of its angel. He immediately had better luck than it did (no surprises there), when Gabriel let out a quiet sniffle.

*“It’s okay. But now, answer me this.”

It made sure he'd read the words before continuing. Yes, his wellbeing was very much a concern to it, but it also required answers to the pressing questions it had.

*“Do you want me to stay around?”

“W-what? Of course I do..!”

*“Okay. Are we acquaintances? Friends?”

Wasn't their relationship just transactional? His blood in exchange for it continuing to make him happy, no matter the time and effort it took?

“We're… We're friends, machine,” Gabriel replied immediately, before continuing a bit more quietly. “...Right?”

That was a satisfactory answer. Sure, it wanting to protect its best fuel source was friendship, done out of the kindness of its heart instead of need for sustenance.

It gave him a thumbs-up, dug out a hard strawberry candy, and shoved that into his hands. It… was running rather low on those, so it'd have to limit the use of those as a reward for the time being.

“Um… What would you have done if I’d said otherwise?”

V1 shrugged, and scuttled back to its position, shooting once at a few Mannequins that'd dared approach again. It made sure to aim for window panes that'd already shattered, to minimise additional damage.

● ● ●

He hadn't even realised it might be jealous. Yes, he'd taken note of how eager it was to make him happy and how protective it was of him, but… It might sound weird, but he'd always considered it to be like how a dog was protective of its owner, not how a person would care for a friend.

Don't compare it to a dog, Gabriel. That's bad.

Gabriel was currently wandering around the greenhouse, trying to ignore the raspy breathing of the Mannequins in the foliage as he went. Sure, it was a bit unusual how nice they were being, but he wouldn't attack them unless they started seeming like a real threat.

“...Please don't do that,” he sighed as he pulled his wing away from a Mannequin. They seemed to have a real fascination with his feathers, for some odd reason.

He'd noticed how some of them were already wearing a blue feather, stuck into any joint it wouldn't fall from. Were they… the same ones he'd seen in Violence? That wasn't an impossibility, but it did make him wonder why they'd be so interested in him.

“I’ll… give you some, if you really can't bear existence without one.” Gabriel eventually relented, and wiggled out a few feathers that were already loose. The Mannequin scurried off as soon as he handed them over.

…As long as you're happy.

He continued his walk, feeling dozens of gazes drilling into his back, specifically his wings. What, did they want to pluck him like a chicken? Even he wouldn't do that to himself.

With a heavy sigh, he turned around, and saw a crowd of Mannequins following him. They froze upon being spotted, as they tended to do. Oddly enough, they'd grown on him a little, as he was beginning to find their antics almost… funny. Like children trying to impress a parent. Sometimes a bit rude, sometimes a bit nice. 

“Sorry, I don't have enough feathers for all… several dozen of you,” he apologised to the unmoving crowd. Were they even listening?

One Mannequin moved forth, and extended a hand towards him. Two hands, technically, but who cared about the specifics. He hesitated for obvious reasons. 

Two merged, bloodstained hands, extended towards him. Did it want to lead him somewhere? He did recall that these were enemies he was looking at, but they seemed too… nice. They weren't the same when he'd encountered them before his ‘fall’. They'd mellowed out. They'd-

A gunshot whizzed right by his head, causing the group of Mannequins to instantly scatter. It… was a miracle he didn't get hit just then. However, the machine seemed oblivious to that.

“Can you not aim properly, machine? You almost hit me!” 

The machine shrugged, and gestured for him to follow. It'd almost shot him, yet it was shrugging, like this wasn't a big deal? What, had that been intentional?

Begrudgingly, he followed, and was led back to the central area with the two intertwined trees. Minos was already waiting, jacket and gloves back on as if he was about to leave. 

“Wait, we're leaving already?” 

Gabriel didn't want to go yet. He hadn't yet seen what the Mannequins wanted to show him, he hadn't… seen everything that the botanical garden had to offer.

“Art thou not tired? ‘Tis nearly morning.”

…Huh? 

He looked up, and saw that the sky was growing lighter again. How long had they been here for..?

Also, wasn't he tired? Well… Yes, he was. He actually was pretty tired, he just hadn't realised with the constant adrenaline rushes (thanks, machine) and Mannequin jumpscares (not really, he didn't find them that scary anymore).

“Mh… Minos, could you be darling and carry this frail maiden home?”

“...Gabriel, thou art one of Heaven's elite soldiers.”

“I’m a frail maiden in desperate need of being carried towards our shared abode.” He made a point of using more ‘fancy’ words. Maybe Minos would cave in easier, maybe not. 

“The frail maiden must nonetheless put on his winter clothes, lest he perish due to hypothermia.”

Success. 

…Probably.

Chapter Text

Gabriel couldn't sleep. He'd spent the entirety of yesterday cleaning the palace from top to bottom, out of nothing but sheer boredom. Though his whole body ached now, it'd been worth it. So worth it.

But, despite being beyond tired, he couldn't drift off to dreamland. He'd been tossing and turning in bed for the past hour, imagining all sorts of scenarios ranging from cuddling with Minos to getting dumped. The latter was always a possibility.

…How would Minos do it? Would it be in a passing sentence, would he serve the information via letter, or would he just… grow cold? Would there one day be no breakfast together? No afternoon cuddles, evening snuggles, or goodnight ‘kisses’? No loving words, no affectionate banter?

I’m… breaking my own heart again.

Minos would probably take it as Gabriel doubting him and the authenticity of their relationship if he knew about these worries. As such, he couldn't say anything. He'd just try to convince himself that such a thing wouldn't happen.

He hauled himself out of bed. There was no way he'd fall asleep like this, stewing in his misery. A walk would help.

Gabriel put on a fluffy red bathrobe --and some woolly socks, since the floor was cold-- before sneaking into the hallway. He knew which floorboards creaked when stepped on, so he avoided those as he snuck downstairs. Perhaps some water or a midnight snack would work to distract him.

Once in the kitchen, he found nothing in the fridge that he'd want to eat right now. The cupboards had nothing, either, so… Was it summoning time? Though he dreaded the headache that'd come, his craving for cheese won out in the end.

How much energy is summoning a bit of cheese even going to require? I’ll be fine.

He really liked lying to himself, hm? His ability to use the energy from his own body to make things hadn't at all degraded, and he definitely could choose which area that energy was taken from. Definitely.

A headache struck him as soon as he began. Like a bench vice, like a fruit press, the pressure came from one or two sides. It wasn't the worst one he'd ever had, but it was up there.

Overcome by a wave of nausea, he no longer felt like eating anything, so he put the cause of his misery in the fridge. He then got himself a 600mg painkiller (overkill), and washed it down with a large glass of water. 

It'll kick in soon enough, in like an hour.

…A whole hour of this ?

He let his eyes unfocus for a moment as he sat down at the table, head (helmet) in hands. At least it was the middle of the night, so he wouldn't have to deal with any loud noises or bright lights that'd turn his brain into mush.

But since everybody knew Gabriel could never have anything nice, fate arranged for the machine to rush in there at that exact moment. It looked around frantically, as if it had lost something, before its bright yellow optic landed on him. 

“...Sorry, I know I should be in bed right now,” he muttered, covering his view of its optic with a hand. 

It grabbed his hand and moved it aside, as it was probably pretty difficult to tell if someone had a headache just by looking. The light was like knives stabbed into his eyes.

“Can you… Could you please dim that thing down? My brain is going to explode.”

The machine did as told. It then looked at him with what he could only assume to be concern, which succeeded in making him feel like a damn child. Before he could complain about this, however, the machine dragged him to his feet.

● ● ●

Its angel was feeling unwell --which was bound to make one's mood plummet-- thus it was V1’s job to make him happy again. Fortunately, it knew just the thing that'd help.

Minos was sitting at a desk and writing something in a book as they entered his bedroom. The room was illuminated by a single candle on the desk, the bed was made, and the curtains were shut as tight as always. It was obvious that Minos still wasn't able to sleep.

“V1, I would much prefer if thou wouldst knock before entering.” Minos closed the book he'd been writing in with a thud, before hiding it away in a drawer. What, was that a diary? V1 banned itself from taking a peek when the guy wasn't around.

“I’m also here,” Gabriel said… surprisingly softly. Since when had he been like this?

“...Oh. What brings thee here, my angel?”

V1 let go of Gabriel's arm, and its angel immediately fell into Minos' embrace. Another couples' thing, it assumed. Kind of cute.

> Tip of the day: This is a very private moment.

> Tip of the day: You should watch. Or at least listen.

Without the two noticing, it crawled under Minos’ bed, careful to not disturb the dozen paintings stashed there. The man really couldn't stop torturing himself with the memories.

…Those two were similar in that regard. Gabriel tortured himself by slicing his flesh open, while Minos tortured himself by repeating all his memories from that day over and over again. 

“Manifested some cheese for a late night snack,” its angel sighed, voice muffled by Minos' clothing. “...These side effects suck. I didn't even get to eat the cheese.”

“Aw… Hast thou taken anything to ease the pain yet?”

“I have, yes. Wish it would kick in sooner, though.”

It heard the bed creak quietly as Gabriel (it assumed that was him) lay down on the bed in probably a very melodramatic fashion.

“Medication requires time to get absorbed by thy body.” 

An even quieter creak of the bed followed as Minos sat down on the edge of it. It could pick up a sigh from Gabriel, which would've been highly suspicious if it didn't know for a fact that its angel was terrified of any physical contact that went beyond cuddling.

“Yeah, yeah…” Gabriel replied wearily. “Not that I’d be able to sleep even if the pain was gone.”

“Mhm? How come?”

A faint laugh, that of its angel's. There was a hint of nervousness there, it could tell, which wasn't good.

“Oh, you know. Just my brain trying to sabotage our little thing here again.”

“Angel… Surely thou art aware that thou may share any of thy worries with me?” Minos sounded gentle, like he ought to. “Getting these thoughts off thy chest may be of aid to thee.”

Silence, then the bed creaking as Gabriel sat up. Oh, it was time for serious talk, wasn't it? V1 made sure to not record this, but it would take notes. For reasons.

“I-I know, it's just… I know we've gone over this time and time again, and you must be getting tired of it, but-”

“Gabriel, I can loathe who thou wert, and love the person thou hast become,” Minos spoke softly and reassuringly. “These concepts are not mutually exclusive.”

Yeah, they'd figure things out, it was sure. They'd be fine.

● ● ●

“Oh, no, I couldn't just… I mean, I don't necessarily have anything against it, but…” Gabriel found himself scrambling for a way out of this. The suggestion implied that there'd be something more, and he couldn't stand the thought.

…Minos had offered that they cuddle, in his bed. Apparently some people fell asleep easier in the embrace of another, but Gabriel wasn't one of those at the moment. Not in this room. Any other room, on any other piece of furniture. 

“But?”

He didn't know how to say what he was thinking without making it sound like he thought Minos a massive creep. It wasn't about Minos, it was about him. He was supposed to say something if he didn't like where things were going, Minos couldn't just read his fucking mind.

“I’m… sorry, I’m not really used to-” Gabriel shook his head. “I mean, I’ve never slept in the same bed with somebody, and just the implications, I mean…”

“...Oh.”

Was that bad? That was bad. That had to be bad, since Minos always had something nice or reassuring to say. Right now, he didn't. He could imagine himself inching towards the door.

Gabriel's hand wandered to his wings, and to a loosened feather. A bit of pain kept him sharp and focused, observant and ready to flee. Minos wouldn't hurt him, right?

“Oh, angel… Thy fears are unwarranted, I assure thee.”

“I know they are..! It's just… really hard to get my brain to understand that, y'know?” 

Every word felt like stepping on ice and expecting it to break beneath him. He was well aware that he didn't have to walk on eggshells around Minos, the man had proven that time and time again, but the habit was a tough one to unlearn. 

“Listen, I’m very well aware that you're a decent guy, and that you wouldn't do anything… untoward, but I-” He hated himself for fumbling his words like this. “It's a ‘me issue’, really. I… hope you understand.”

“I completely understand, angel. Thou need not-” 

“B-but I do still want to cuddle! Preferably anywhere that is not a bed, if you don't mind.” Gabriel let out a slightly (very) nervous chuckle, even though he clearly had no reason to be nervous. Minos was still being really nice and understanding about everything. It was fine.

“May I suggest the main lounge?”

“...Why?”

Stars, the way Gabriel had just said that sounded awful. Was he seriously doubting Minos' intentions? Minos, the sweet, caring-

“Would it not be easier to fall asleep to the crackling of a fireplace?”

…Wasn’t he just such a catch? Gabriel doubted that any other person would've been this patient with him. Any other person would've just taken what they wanted, or picked someone that was far easier to communicate with, that wouldn't panic even at the mere thought of… that. He wasn't sure why even thinking that word felt wrong.

“That’s… acceptable.”

● ● ●

V1 had found a word for whatever was up with Gabriel. There was very little information available on the condition, so it'd had to pay the palace terminal extra to locate some old articles on it.

*erotophobia 

*/ˈərɒtɒfəʊbiə/

* noun

*1. a fear of sexual feelings and their physical expression.

It wasn't sure how to help him, as it lacked any experience in that area of… being a person. It just didn't care for physical intimacy that much.

V1 was currently perched on the backrest of the couch in the lounge, observing its angel sleep on top of Minos. Gabriel was just so adorable like this, purring and occasionally muttering something in his sleep, and the other appeared to think so too. A pale hand stroked its angel's wing gently.

…It couldn't help but wonder what Heaven was like. If Gabriel's reaction to this kind of physical contact was anything to go by, they weren't really affectionate up there. His quite literal fear of sex and anything related to that also suggested that angels didn't engage in --or even talk about-- such matters much. It could imagine them declaring such an act a ‘mortal thing’, something that went against an angel's perfect nature and whatnot.

Its angel muttered something in his sleep, words indistinct yet filled with… fear? Panic? He was most likely having a nightmare. It'd been quite a while since the last one (to its knowledge) so this wasn't too surprising. He'd been pretty stressed today.

“Shh… ‘Tis alright, angel.” Minos held Gabriel a little tighter in his arms, though that didn't do much to help. Of course it didn't, its angel was asleep and thus couldn't really hear what was being said to him.

That whimper from Gabriel was a bit concerning, though, as was the sob that followed. Aw. It couldn't recall ever having a nightmare (or a dream, for that matter) itself, but it could imagine the overwhelming terror.

“...Sorry,” its angel sniffled, apparently now awake. Waking up crying couldn't exactly be a nice feeling.

“Thou need not apologise for anything.”

Gabriel sniffled more at that, and gripped Minos a bit tighter. V1 hopped down from its position, scuttled around the couch, and crouched down next to it. It then patted Gabriel's helmet lightly.

“Sharing thy troubles may ease the burden on thy mind.” Minos gave the base of Gabriel's wings a few scritches. “But I will understand if thou dost not wish to do so.”

“I… don't think I can.”

It could guess what that nightmare had been about. Its assumption was based on the conversation from before, specifically Gabriel's most pressing fear at the moment. A part of it hoped it was wrong.

“Dost thou wish to share thy reason for believing so?”

“...No.”

V1 thought about looking up some guide as to how to ‘fix’ its angel, as strange as that sounded. It didn't know how else to word it. ‘Helping’ and ‘fixing’ were basically the same thing to it, as both would get rid of the issue in the end. Probably.

● ● ●

Gabriel just wanted to be normal. He just wanted to be able to make this… thing work like it was supposed to, to love Minos like he deserved to be loved. Minos deserved so much more than he was being given.

…He was being selfish, wasn't he? He knew his fears were probably unjustified, yet he kept doing everything in his power to avoid even thinking about them, instead of doing the correct thing and working on them.

If the situation was any different, he probably would've been out of the house by now. A normal relationship just wouldn't work with this level of mistrust and doubt. 

Gabriel was currently sitting at the kitchen table, his breakfast untouched. His coffee had probably gone cold, his sandwich turned stale, and Minos grown concerned. The other's gaze was burning a hole through his helmet.

“Is the sandwich not to thy liking?”

Minos had been the one to make their breakfast today, as he tended to do. He was nice like that. Gabriel still hadn't been able to take even a bite, too nauseous to even think about eating at the moment. Wasn’t he just the most ungrateful angel that'd ever existed?

“No, no, it's fine.” Gabriel twirled his coffee with a straw. “I’m just… not hungry.”

“Is the coffee too bitter, then?”

If anything’s bitter, it's me.

He'd be fine now if angels weren't all expected to be pure and virginal, pinnacles of virtue and whatnot. Well, maybe they were all that, and he was just a defective individual raised in conditions fit for a normal angel.

“...It’s not that, either.”

The other was bound to get frustrated now. Gabriel was just avoiding having to talk about his feelings and worries, which to most was a sign that he didn't consider the other worthy of his trust. His heart would remain under lock and key.

But no frustration came. Instead, a heavy feeling of… gloom fell over the both of them. An emotion akin to sorrow engulfed the room, the sheer weight of it threatening to drown him.

It was his fault. He'd caused Minos to feel like this, he was the only one to blame. If only he could force himself to talk about things.

But alas, he was still Gabriel. He was still the same arrogant (confident), self-sacrificial (selfless), and overly trusting (loyal) attack dog that thrived in an institution with set rules and rigid schedules, and languished in freedom. Being made to think this much was bad for him.

“Minos, it's… it's still not your fault,” he said softly after a moment. “I’m just… having a lot of complex emotions right now. Still.”

“...It doth feel like thou art coming to inaccurate conclusions about my character, I must admit.”

“W-what? No, no, not at all..!” Gabriel was scrambling to repair this. As stressful as this relationship was, he still liked it. 

The attention. I just like the attention, right? Disgusting.

Gabriel's heart sank when he realised he couldn't figure out what to say. How could he fix this if he couldn't even fix himself? He was just dragging Minos down with him by holding on, why shouldn't he just let go? 

He was just a bundle of nerves, of tension, ready to snap any second now. He’d… have to flee, lest he do something really stupid and pop their silly little bubble of normalcy. He couldn't afford to fuck this up.

Well, he was fucking up now, but… He was thinking too hard again, he wasn't created for this! Why couldn't somebody just tell him what to do?

“I’m sorry, I don't know what to say, it's just… It's not anything to do with you or your character, alright?” Gabriel couldn't get the right words out. They stuck to his throat like the taste of stomach acid, the burning sensation of it.

“Inexperience, is it?”

Alright, he hadn't ruined everything yet. Minos sounded relatively normal again, so that was good. They were fine. All hope wasn't lost.

“You could say that,” he sighed, tapping his helmet with a finger in an attempt to finally get his thoughts in order. “It’s that, and also just the fact that I’m… that I’m just so…”

No chance. It was like pulling knitting yarn through the eye of a sewing needle, so nigh impossible. Things would've been much easier if he'd just say it. Minos wouldn't be able to help if he didn't know what was wrong.

“...Just forget it. You can probably tell what's actually wrong with me, anyway.”

“I… would not want to assume anything.” 

Of course he wouldn't, he was decent like that. Gabriel kind of needed Minos to assume, however, so that he wouldn't have to explain himself.

“I’m giving you permission to assume anything you want.”

● ● ●

With their marital troubles somewhat resolved, V1 was once again free to do the next task on its ever growing to-do list. It was currently hauling the body of a Drone --the one it'd requested of the palace terminal-- towards that one train station in Lust. 

It wasn't sure how Gabriel would take another machine suddenly showing up, especially when he'd assumed that V1 had exterminated every last one. It wasn't that territorial, so it could see the benefit in keeping more of its kin around. Though it'd still exterminate it if the thing started going for its angel's blood.

Vehicles still counted as its kin, right? Modern, self-driving variants certainly did, unless they were of a certain brand that had a five-letter name starting with a ‘T’.

Minos probably wouldn't mind the presence of that thing, as long as V1 explained that it was one of the city's trains. He wouldn't kill one of his… ‘children’, essentially.

V1 made its way into the train station, and headed straight for the train’s Limbo-facing cab. It could only imagine how it ‘felt’. Was it excited, eager to finally be able to move around properly and see what lay above? Was it scared, afraid it wouldn't get back into its original form after this? Was it dreading the unknown?

Well, either way, it had V1 as its guide. It was an expert when it came to exploring Hell. It knew every route, every shortcut and secret. It knew how to get through the entirety of Limbo in ten seconds, it knew how to get to the best fishing spots. And it knew where Hell kept its Gabriel memorabilia. Unfortunately. They were all like bugs in a jar to the thing, with its angel being the brightest and most interesting one.

It connected a cable to the currently lifeless Drone body. Just a shell, a mold waiting to be filled with… whatever sort of a ‘soul’ a machine could have. V1 itself had never thought too much about the existence of ‘souls’ and ‘machine consciousness’, which was why it wasn’t that against backing up its consciousness. A certain terminal could just make a fresh body for one of its backups.

…Those backups wouldn’t have the memories of its death, if that were to occur. That terminal (not the palace one) could also choose what it wanted that version of V1 to remember, but it trusted this one well enough. It was… nice, for a terminal.

The Drone’s bright pink optic lit up, signalling that the ‘consciousness transfer’ was underway. It then flickered for a moment. Perhaps it was leaving a simplified copy of itself behind, so that the train would still be operational in its absence. That was pretty smart.

A compartment of some sort suddenly opened up on the Drone’s side, and an arm popped out. The appendage seemed far too large for the body, comically so, but who was V1 to question the palace terminal’s engineering skills. It’d purchased weapon upgrades from it before.

The arm detached the cable, before somehow managing to retract back into the Drone's body. V1 wasn't sure if he should call it a Drone or a train, so… it'd continue calling the thing a Drone, mainly out of laziness. 

Before long, the Drone got off the floor and hovered right in front of it, their optics almost touching. All V1 could see was bright pink.

Then, the Drone lightly bonked it in a pseudo-kiss, which it assumed to be a ‘thank you’ of sorts. It was nice. Not as nice as Gabriel's ‘kisses’, but it was close. At least it had the technique down.

● ● ●

He wouldn't talk about it. Not now, not ever. It had to be some sort of defect on his part, because he'd never met anyone else that shared the same fear and… almost disgust. Disgust with both himself and the act itself. With how disappointing he'd be, clueless as to what to say or do to-

Why couldn't he just swallow his fear and bite his tongue, and let Minos have what he deserved? Wasn't Gabriel… his? His to seek affection from, his to dote on, his to keep? He probably should've freely accepted whatever he was being offered, but… he was afraid. Beyond afraid, in fact. He was terrified.

…Minos hadn't brought it up since. They were currently in the grand library, with Gabriel's gaze fixed on the darkness outside the window. Why couldn't his mind remain as calm and clear as the night air?

He snuggled up to Minos on the couch, seeking comfort in the other despite the whirlwind of emotions raging within him. Minos was comfortably warm next to him, and his steady heartbeat and breathing were like a guiding line for Gabriel, who was anything but calm.

Gabriel wished he could keep up with the pace that Minos was reading at. He only ever managed to read two thirds of a single page before the other was already turning to the next.

“Could you… read that to me?”

He wanted --no, needed-- to hear Minos again, to be enveloped in the warm embrace that was his words. Like warm honey tea, those words would fill every crevice of his brain, encasing him in a fluffy, fuzzy cocoon. 

“Ah, where do I begin…” Minos’ free hand stroked Gabriel's wing. “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach, when feeling out of sight, for the ends of being and ideal grace.”

That was most definitely not what was on the page. It sounded far more like a snippet of some love poem, rather than --he checked the book's cover-- Ovid’s ‘Metamorphoses’ .

“...That’s not what that says.”

“Mhm, but ‘tis what my heart says.”

Wait…

His wings flushed almost entirely pink after a few seconds of thinking. That was most definitely a declaration of love, and an exquisite one at that. Gabriel couldn't top that.

After sputtering for a moment, unable to come up with a response, he buried his helmeted face into Minos' chest. He could hear the other's heart rate speed up a bit.

“You're the worst. I… I like hate you,” he muttered in a tone that implied the exact opposite.

“I love thee as well.”

Those words came out like they were the easiest thing in the world to say. Gabriel felt almost jealous of how natural it sounded coming from Minos, when he himself couldn't even get the words out. ‘Love’ always felt too strong of a word.

Before he could ask why Minos still loved him, the machine rushed into the library. It was actively being trailed by one of those floating machines, this one magenta in colour, leading him to wonder whether it was being chased or if it'd made a new friend.

…Had it not eliminated every single other being in Hell? Maybe this was the same as the Mannequin situation from before. Perhaps it’d missed a few, or something was making more of them.

Minos seemed awfully tense all of a sudden, and it took Gabriel a moment to remember why. Something about ‘crimes against mankind’ and whatnot.

*“Let me explain.”

He was kind of curious now. It wasn't often that the machine explained itself unprompted, so he was pretty excited to see how it'd go about things.

*“I gave the train sentience/sapience.”

That much he knew. They were returning from Violence, and in the cab he'd found the machine, seemingly dead, connected to the train via a cable. Its first words to him after awakening again were something about the train's newfound emotions.

*“It then wanted a new body, and I got it-”

*“got it one.”

Fair enough. Gabriel could imagine a train that suddenly gained sapience feeling trapped within a body that could only move between point A and point B. He could imagine the want to see what the rest of the universe had to offer, apart from the crushing dark of the tunnels beneath, the confinement it'd been ‘born’ into.

*“Say ‘hi’ to ‘Cab 2’.”

The magenta machine lightly smacked the other with its body. That seemed to suggest that the two were friends of some sort already, which was… good. He was happy for it.

*“...‘Limbo–Fraud line | Train 3 | Cab 2’.”

“Well… Welcome to our dysfunctional ‘family’, whatever your name was,” Gabriel replied, his body almost grieving the loss when he pried himself away from Minos.

Seeming offended by his apparent disrespect (he'd just forgotten its ridiculously long name), the floating machine approached him, and smacked his helmet.

Ow…

“It's not my fault your name's so long.” He then pointed towards Minos. “...It’s probably his.”

“Can a man not be organised?”

Gabriel could see the machine saying ‘They’re married’ to its magenta friend, which… wasn't that off. Though marriage wasn't necessarily the ‘end goal’ of a relationship --and it meant absolutely nothing considering the place they currently lived in-- he very much enjoyed the way it sounded. 

“Well, where's your organisational skills when we're doing laundry? Mismatched socks still do not go in the wash until they've found their pair.”

“...Thou art such a delight to be around.”

Chapter Text

This was the end, it had to be. It had to be, there was no other explanation for this.

Minos was now being the more distant one of the pair. The difference from how he'd been before wasn't significant --or even noticeable to normal people-- but Gabriel could tell. He could fucking tell.

It was the small things. The quality of the breakfast Minos often brought to him in bed had dropped, with things either a bit undercooked or slightly burned. The coffee was either too bland or too strong, too hot or too cold, with either too little or too much soya milk in it.

But it wasn't just the breakfast. That thing he could find some sort of solution or fix for, but this? How was he supposed to repair things when he didn't know what the root of the issue was?

They were currently sitting on the couch in the lounge. Minos was supposedly absorbed in his book, though he appeared to be turning pages less frequently than usual. He was normally a fast reader, so… this was odd.

Gabriel put his own book aside, and slowly maneuvered himself right next to Minos, before resting his head on the other's shoulder. He was warm.

Minos smelled of the scented candle Gabriel had tried last night. The strong, sweet and floral scent of hyacinths had given him a slight headache, but it smelled just fine on Minos. Not too weak and not too strong. Perfect, just like the man himself.

Why… Why wasn't he doing anything? Why wasn't he pulling Gabriel into a warm embrace, or saying anything sweet? Was he mad?

“...Minos?” He wanted to smack himself for the faint waver in his voice. “Are you mad at me?”

“Hm..? Of course not.”

An arm wrapped around Gabriel's shoulders, as it should've from the very beginning. He wasn't complaining. Getting a warm hug was better than not getting a warm hug, that was for certain.

“Why do I… feel like this, then?”

“Our minds tend to overthink every little thing, my sweet angel. A few minutes apart feel like days, a few misspoken words feel as if the world will come crashing down, and minuscule changes in the other feel like intentional slights.” Minos stroked Gabriel's wing casually, gently. “Am I correct?”

Did he just read my mind..? Should I be scared?

“No, I did not read thy mind,” Minos continued upon noticing the other's silence. “I am simply aware of how people tend to think in any given situation.”

“...You’re weird.”

“I would much prefer the term ‘unusual’ or even ‘peculiar’.”

Perhaps… Minos had just been a bit tired lately. Gabriel himself tended to have such periods of exhaustion, waking up tired no matter how much he slept. He could understand that.

● ● ●

It knew that poking around in someone's room and looking through their belongings was a breach of privacy, but it had good reason to do this. This was for the sake of their relationship.

You see, it'd taken note of something peculiar lately. Minos had a habit of having a glass of wine nigh every evening, which in itself wasn't a bad thing --his body wasn't exactly human anymore-- but the fact that the glass never seemed to get emptier. V1 hopped between Minos' and its angel’s room quite frequently every evening, so it would've expected the glass to be empty whenever it returned here. But… it never was.

So, it was here looking for his wine stash. He had to have one of those, since no one could visit the wine cellar in just under a minute. Of course, it was occasionally gone for longer times, but that still wouldn't explain how the glass got refilled every time it wasn't looking.

Its little friend, the magenta Drone with a train's consciousness, had gone out for the day. Said it wanted to explore, which V1 was fine with. It just couldn't accompany the little guy today.

It hit the jackpot when it emptied out one of the writing desk’s drawers. At the very back was a bottle of red, tucked away behind a secret panel. How elaborate.

That didn't matter to it. V1 snatched the bottle, and put the thing into one of its wine bottle-sized compartments. Why did it have a wine bottle-sized compartment? No reason in particular. The space was just left vacant when it'd removed unnecessary equipment from itself, since anything inessential to existence was a waste of fuel.

After that, it shoved the papers and whatnot into the drawer. Minos wouldn't notice. Surely.

Wait, no. It wanted him to notice, to be aware that it fucking knew and that he should maybe talk about what was bothering him, instead of drinking about it. It wouldn't judge him too harshly.

Its gaze went to the diary-like book on the desk. Said tome was seemingly locked --with the key nowhere to be seen-- which most likely meant that Minos didn't want anyone reading it. V1 had a reason, though. It needed to know what was going on inside his head, so that it could keep those two from breaking up if things came to that.

V1 picked the lock, as tempting as it was to just shoot it. It was feeling nice enough today. 

…The entries at the start were wholly ordinary. Fifty-three pages consisted of reminiscences, recountings of the city's zenith. That was completely normal. The following two-hundred and seventy-eight pages, however, were very grim. 

The handwriting --though small-- was very neat, with each word an equal distance apart. They were all about what Minos would do if he found Gabriel. Each scenario was more cruel than the last, their descriptions so vivid that it could see them happening, it could hear the crunching of bones and the screams of agony. 

The remaining hundred pages were of how those two had met and what'd occurred since. The imagined ‘Gabriel torture scenarios’ got less frequent, and though there was one even in yesterday's entry, it wasn't as bad.

Wait, why would Minos date its angel if he loathed the latter so much? What was the point in that?

He'd also written about how much he enjoyed Gabriel's presence, which was just so contradictory. Just pick one ! Love or hate, there was no in-between.

● ● ●

Everything was supposed to be fine. Minos had assured him that everything was fine, that he loved Gabriel. That their relationship was fine.

But there he'd gone again. Right after finishing dinner, Minos had left the kitchen, without any explanation. He'd always waited for Gabriel to finish his meal before getting up. He'd… always waited.

That familiar ache in his chest returned as he began cleaning up the kitchen. He shovelled the leftovers of their meal into a plastic container, and put that in the fridge. Dirty plates, forks and knives went in the sink, which he'd filled up with hot water moments before. 

He rolled up his sleeves, grabbed a dish brush, and got to work. Just a bit of the hydrangea-scented dish soap was enough to make his head hurt. Honey and vanilla, sweet yet smothering. 

…Gabriel hoped he wasn't like that. Sweet yet smothering, kind yet clingy. He had to be pretty annoying to be around, with his constant need for reassurance and praise, constantly needing to be told that he wasn't being abandoned or thrown to the side.

He received no satisfaction from completing this task, not even an ounce. Not even as he saw his reflection on a pristine plate, not even as he put the mugs and glasses in perfect order. It was pointless.

Pointless, yes. What point was there to any of this, if he wasn't even-

I’ll… I’ll make him love me. I can make him love me. 

If Gabriel wanted to do that, he'd just have to put his stupid feelings into a box, and push that off to the side. His fears and apprehensions didn't matter. He'd make Minos happy, even at the cost of his own… purity, was it? He wasn't sure if even the mere thought of such acts had sullied his form.

But before that, he had something else he needed to do. He called it a ‘reminder of how flawed he actually was’.

● ● ●

It was very cruel of fate to put these two men who were in great need of psychiatric help in a place where they had no access to such. 

V1 hadn't been intending on becoming a psychiatrist --or anything of the sort, really-- but it was starting to look like it'd really have to begin studying the subject. Not just scanning a few books, but actually studying.

> Name: Gabriel

> Pronouns: He/him

> Role: Archangel (former), Judge of Hell (former), Righteous Hand of the Father (former)

> Professional diagnoses: Unknown 

> Notes: Significant emotional baggage, abandonment issues, erotophobia, ‘daddy issues’, and much more. Self-harms to cope.

Gabriel, King of Issues. An ex-archangel with enough emotional baggage for a whole army. His coping skills were lacking, which was quite bad when combined with his tendency to feel emotions tenfold. 

> Name: Minos

> Pronouns: He/him

> Role: King of Crete (former), Judge of Hell (former), King of Lust (former?)

> Professional diagnoses: Unknown 

> Notes: Significant trauma from, among others, prolonged confinement. Has nightmares from prior death, which became worse after his second death. Drinks to cope.

Minos, King of Lust. A man whose entire existence thus far wouldn't fit into a trilogy or even a hexalogy. Cherished and beloved by many, but also revered to the point of deification. Few dared approach someone of such authority.

> What makes a king?  

> A king:

1. prioritises the wishes of his people,

2. is the vessel that carries out the collective will of his people,

3. lives for his people,

4. is nothing without his people.

V1’s ‘brain’ hurt from the sheer amount of pain and agony those two had gone through. Its troubles seemed utterly insignificant compared to, say, Minos’ train wreck of a life. All it had were some abandonment issues and a possessive streak.

…Damn, every single one of them was absolutely fucked up. No wonder its angel had called their ‘family’ dysfunctional when welcoming the Drone.

Enough about its analysis. V1 crawled under Minos' bed when it sensed someone approaching, and managed to do so right before the door to the room opened.

It heard the door click shut, before witnessing Minos let out a heavy sigh and then walk over to the desk. Fetching a drink, it assumed.

Its assumption turned out to be correct, as the guy immediately opened the drawer from which it'd confiscated the wine bottle. All Minos did upon noticing this was sigh again.

“V1, I am aware thou art here.” Though his irritation was masked well, it could tell. “If thou couldst be so kind as to return the thing thou hast taken, I would be eternally grateful.”

It did not obey. What it was trying to do was fix his problem, but he didn't appear to see it that way. Fair enough.

“...‘Tis taking every ounce of my willpower to not pulverise thee at this very instant,” Minos said in an eerily calm manner. 

It definitely wasn't scared of that threat. Minos couldn't hurt it in a way that mattered, it had backups now. 

“I… would much rather not feel like this, V1.”

That was much more pleading, more so than it was used to. No one ever begged it for anything. So, without thinking much, it peeked out from beneath the bed. Minos was looking right at it, or at least it assumed he was, with his gaze burning a hole into its optic.

“Pardon my bluntness, but my patience is running rather thin at the moment, so if thou couldst-” 

V1 crawled out, and sat down on the edge of the bed, digging out its small monitor. Perhaps talking would work.

*“Do you even hear yourself?”

“...Hm?”

*“Wine won't fix a thing.”

Minos seemed… tired. Maybe he wouldn't have it in himself to fight it on the subject. 

“I am aware. However, it doth numb the feelings that plague me.”

V1 could understand why one would turn to the bottle. For some, it numbed negative emotions and produced positive ones. For others, it was the opposite. You wouldn't know which one you were until you tried.

*“You're hurting him. And yourself.”

There was a knock at the door, interrupting their conversation just as they were about to get somewhere. That must’ve been none other than Gabriel, which actually was perfect, since Minos couldn’t avoid talking to him. He could avoid talking about his issues, but V1 hoped he wouldn’t do that.

*“…Speak of the devil and he shall appear.”

*“Don't fuck up.”

V1 returned to its spot under the bed, giving Minos one last stare before dimming its optic. Sure, it didn’t really need to be there, but it was nosy. It wanted to know what those two would do or talk about.

● ● ●

He just needed to get through this. Just get through this, and make Minos happy.

…To make him love me again.

Gabriel awaited nervously behind the door. He’d heard the scraping of a chair against the floorboards, and footsteps getting closer, but the moment just seemed to drag on, and on, and on. It was like he was being made to wait.

The door opened up after what felt like an eternity, and Minos peeked out. Stars, he was… so much taller than he’d remembered, so much more intimidating. That, or Gabriel himself had shrunk. Probably the latter.

“...Ah.”

Why did he sound disappointed..? He should've been happy to see Gabriel, he should've been… beyond overjoyed! 

Gabriel ignored the urge to break down crying, and instead walked right past Minos and into the room. He then took a seat at the end of the bed.

“Something about thee seems different, angel.”

The door clicked shut. He couldn't shake the mental image of a coffin being nailed shut, with him still alive in it. Why couldn't he think like a normal person for once?

“Oh, does it?” He crossed his legs and opened his wings up a bit, even as he felt like throwing up from the sheer anxiety alone. A part of him wanted to-

“Indeed. Thou art often much more hesitant to enter my quarters.”

That was true, as Gabriel often feared that just entering someone's bedroom equated him giving permission to the other to do as they wished. Every step felt like waiting for the snake to bite.

“Mhm?” He watched as Minos sat down on the edge of the bed, a respectful distance away from him. “Anyhow… I have decided that I’ll be sleeping in your bed from now on.”

“...Pardon?”

Was it that hard to believe that Gabriel had ‘come to his senses’, that he'd completely ‘healed’ from his fear of that kind of physical contact?

“I said that I'll be sleeping in your bed from now on, as any loving… partner should. Any objections?”

Gabriel forced himself to snuggle up to Minos, wrapping his arms around the other even as his head screamed at him to halt the mission. He wasn't a quitter.

“Art thou… alright?”

“Why… Why wouldn't I be?” He did his best to sound happy and unbothered, and even lightly bonked the side of what remained of Minos' face.

“Thy behaviour hath changed drastically from what ‘twas a week or so ago.”

Minos gently stroked a wing, getting a purr out of Gabriel. He'd be fine, he was at the mercy of a man who'd been nothing but nice to him ever since they’d become a ‘couple’.

“Has it, now? I’ve always been like this.”

Before the other could respond, Gabriel made his way to the other end of the bed. His head sank into the pillow. It wasn't soft enough for his liking, but it'd do for now. He could use Minos as a pillow.

“Come on.” He opened up his arms, stifling a wince as a bandage moved from its position, reopening a wound. “It's time to cuddle.”

● ● ●

It hadn't thought he'd actually try and offer himself to Minos like some piece of meat. He'd always had at least a smidgen of self-respect, where'd that gone now? Its angel would probably let Minos tear him limb from limb without complaining.

Based on what it was hearing, nothing bad was currently occurring. There was the occasional rustle of fabric, soft purr from Gabriel, and rare creak of the bed. Minos really needed a new mattress, or perhaps even a whole new bed.

“...Angel,” Minos spoke gently, as if afraid its angel would run off. “Thou art shaking.”

> Why would Gabriel be shaking?  

1. he is afraid,

2. he is cold,

3. he is ???

“I’m… I’m not,” its angel responded. He… didn't sound fine.

“I do not appreciate being lied to. By my precious dove, no less.”

Deafening silence. It could imagine the audible gulp from Gabriel, how he buried his face into Minos' chest. The shaky breath, the barely stifled sob, the-

“I will not force thee, Gabriel.” Minos didn't sound hurt in the slightest, like he'd expected this outcome. “...But I hope to one day be worthy of thy trust.”

More silence. This one was broken a bit sooner, though. It had started planning what to do if those two broke up, like how it'd keep Gabriel from quitting existence altogether.

“Anyhow… Shall we enjoy a drink by the fire, along with some cheese?”

Wait, a drink? Had it not just-

“...You’re just trying to cheer me up, aren't you?” Gabriel sighed, accompanied by the slight creak of the bed as he probably sat up. “I mean… Fine, sure. As long as I get you feeding me grapes.”

“Naturally.”

It unfortunately couldn't do anything about this change of events at the moment, as that'd risk Gabriel finding out about Minos' little issue. Its angel would just blame himself, which would… end very unfavourably for everybody involved.

“Also, please stop me if I try to down the entire bottle.” 

“I shall try my best.”

● ● ●

…Stars, he looked so perfect. With both Gabriel's arms and wings wrapped around him, a half-full glass of red wine in his hand, and…

Oh, and he was very warm. Warmer than the fireplace, and much better to hug than the aforementioned… thing. He could feel Minos' heartbeat, feel his chest rise and fall, and imagine just how nice it would've been to-

He was getting carried away. Dwelling on the past would do neither of them any good, it'd just wrap its slimy tendrils around them and pull them back down, over and over again, until they eventually gave up.

Hangover be damned, Minos seemed twice as perfect to Gabriel after a glass (or two) of white wine. The way that the light from the fireplace made him glow, the way he looked at Gabriel (he couldn't really tell how Minos was looking at him, but the vibe was ‘affectionate’), and the way he just… 

Gah, I just want to squeeze him and never let go..!

Gabriel did as his brain wished, and squeezed Minos in his arms. The other must've had a hard time not spilling his wine, but he somehow managed, even managing to take a sip. A ‘sip’. Minos just poured that thing into his face hole like it was nothing.

Mh… Is that thing bottomless? I kind of want to test that.

“Minos…” His face was buried in Minos’ chest --as it tended to be-- so he sounded a bit muffled. The other appeared to hear him just fine, though.

“Hm?”

“Can I… May I shove my hand into your face hole, please?” 

He probably should've felt at least an ounce of shame asking that, but he didn't. Even as Minos stayed quiet for an awfully long time, he didn't regret a thing he'd just said.

“...Why?”

“Well… ‘Cause I want to know how deep it goes,” Gabriel replied, purring when Minos scritched the base of a wing. Oh, this was just the best. Nothing in Heaven could even come close to this.

“As deep as my grief. Doth that answer suffice?”

As he was a bit too drunk to think about things, the ‘grief’ comment really went over Gabriel's head. He just lightly headbutted where Minos’ cheek used to be.

“Not really, no. So… can I shove my hand in there?”

The other sighed, most likely considering the request. Who wouldn't want somebody to shove a hand into what could most closely be compared to a mouth?

“...Sure.” Minos set his wine glass down on the coffee table. “Thou may not call me ‘gross’ if thou dost not find the texture appealing.”

Without further ado, Gabriel set himself down on Minos lap, almost… No, not ‘almost’. Gabriel was most definitely straddling him. He’d completely forgotten about what kind of connotations such an action would have, you see.

“I’d do nothing of the sort.” He traced the edge of the gaping abyss, intrigued by how the inky goop twisted and swirled. 

I… kind of want to eat that.

Instead of eating Minos' face goop, Gabriel dipped a finger in. It was as cold as steel and as thick as syrup, seeping under his fingernails, almost devouring him with the way it pulled his hand in. Wrist-deep, then elbow-deep.

“Holy… Holy shit.”

“How is it? As goopy and gross as thou recalled?” Minos' voice didn't sound at all muffled, despite Gabriel being elbow-deep in his ‘mouth’. How this was possible would remain unanswered.

“No, actually. It’s… neat, to say the least.”

Gabriel reached in as deep as he could, up to his shoulder. He would have gone deeper, definitely, were it not for this body of his. He-

His thoughts were interrupted by a sensation that shouldn't have been there. It was swirling, deep within the abyss, like… a tongue. A tongue? Why did he know what a tongue caressing his fingers felt like?

● ● ●

Such a peculiar position those two were in. 

V1 had been observing the whole thing from the side, taking a few sneaky pictures here and there to remember the evening. It'd given the Drone (which had returned just in time) permission to take a few shots too. The thing needed those so it could sell them to a terminal. V1 considered this an exception, since the Drone needed to know how to acquire points and as such survive in this economy.

But back to the gayest shit it had ever seen. Its angel had just shoved his hand elbow-deep in there, and… it was very anticlimactic. Minos didn't even make a peep. It was as if he couldn't sense what was going on within his face hole, which would be quite bad for their-

…Was this what people called ‘sex’? V1 was aware that there were many things that could be considered such, but this was out there.

* sex

*/ˈsɛks/

* noun

*1. category into which sexually-reproducing organisms are divided on the basis of their reproductive roles in their species.

*2. sexual activity, usually sexual intercourse unless preceded by a modifier. 

Well, that didn't help much when trying to figure out if this was ‘sex’. If one simplified it down to ‘appendage in a hole’, this would definitely count, but… Yep, it hated strict definitions for things.

* sexual intercourse

* noun

*1. coitus or genital-genital sexual contact.

*2. sexual interaction, usually involving vaginal and/or anal and/or oral penetration, between at least two organisms. 

Huh. Based on the second definition, this would count as sex. But unfortunately (for any people who may have been reading V1’s mind at the moment), it did not want to continue thinking about the technicalities. Showing a whole arm into someone's mouth was sex now, that was its conclusion.

Anyhow… Gabriel was now shoulder-deep in there. It kind of felt like it shouldn't be watching, but as a grown-ass machine, it could do what it wanted.

Before it (and the Drone) could stare at them further, its angel suddenly jumped back like a startled cat, falling back and onto the coffee table. He crushed the glass of red wine beneath him, and also broke the coffee table in the process. Utter chaos.

The chain of events got a laugh out of Minos. It’d… never heard him laugh before, really. Not when it'd first encountered him, not in the past months that it'd been living here, not ever. Sure, it'd heard him chuckle before, but this was different. This one was from the heart.

Minos' laugh died down soon enough. A bit too soon, in its opinion. It was like a heavy blanket of guilt had wrapped around him, most likely telling him that he wasn't allowed such joys, especially when he'd caused so much death and whatnot. This was all just V1 assuming things, of course.

“W-what the fuck was that?!” Gabriel staggered to his feet, shaking tiny shards of (probably) glass from his wings, which had gained both orange and pink hues.

“My apologies, angel.” 

Its angel immediately melted into Minos' touch when the latter inspected his wings. The Drone next to V1 apparently thought this was a perfect opportunity for pictures, so it lassoed the thing back with the green arm. Lesson number two: Gabriel was only for V1 to earn points off of. 

“I liked hearing you laugh,” its angel muttered, and buried his helmeted face into Minos' shoulder, arms wrapped around the latter's waist.

“...Oh?”

“Mhm, I got butterflies in my chest and everything.” 

Such an adorable scene. V1 had luckily started recording audio right before this moment, so it'd gotten that on tape. It had to flip a coin to figure out whether to put that in its ‘Cutebriel’ or ‘Gaybriel’ folder.

“I… shall clean this up, angel. Thou may rest-”

“Yeah, no. We're cuddling now.” Its angel pushed Minos onto the couch, and curled up right next to him. “You're not going anywhere.”

“...I do suppose I shall remain here, then.”

Chapter Text

Sparring was a good way to blow off steam. It made people shed all lies and façades, brought them closer together, and was… Well, overall, it was a neat bonding experience. 

…It had an idea for what those two could do today, instead of sitting all day and cuddling or something.

V1 was sitting cross-legged on the kitchen counter, in complete darkness, the time a few minutes before seven in the morning. This would definitely scare the shit out of Minos, not that causing such a reaction was its intention. It just wanted to talk to him the second he came downstairs.

The silhouette of the man it'd sought appeared in the doorway at exactly seven. He flicked the lights on, and didn't even flinch upon noticing V1. Such a bore he was.

“Good morning, V1.”

Minos began preparing breakfast, not even giving it a glance. What, was he still pissed about it mistaking one of his stupid snakes for an enemy the other day?

It ignored the stabbing pain radiating from where the monitor connected to its body as it powered the thing on, and pulled out said device. One day… One day it'd decimate this fucking thing. 

*“What's wrong?”

The other sighed, stopping whatever he was doing. He then turned to look at V1.

“Couldst thou perhaps cease stealing my wine?”

Oh, again with the wine! Did he seriously not see the issue in what he was doing? He was spending more time with his stupid alcoholic beverages than he was with its angel, it was only a matter of time until Gabriel would find out.

It'd probably devastate him, to learn that his… boyfriend would choose wine over him. And, knowing the mental state Gabriel was in, he'd definitely do something drastic.

*“Think of Gabriel.”

*“What would he think if he knew?”

Minos crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. Ah yes, the ‘we need to talk’ pose. It wasn't scared of him.

“...Do not bring him into this.”

It didn't like where this was going. He was just trying to keep up his stupid façade of normalcy, even when everything and everyone around him was falling apart. 

*“He'd be very upset if he found out.”

“He shall not learn of this,” Minos replied quickly, almost as if he'd had that line prepared for a while. Like he'd been expecting a ‘confrontation’ like this.

*“He will, and he'll be devastated.”

It knew it was right. It knew Gabriel was not the most emotionally stable angel in existence right now (and that it should also work on fixing that) so they couldn't afford to fuck up here.

*“He'd cry. He'd blame himself. He'd-”

“Cease at once.” 

Minos' tone was just a hair louder, a smidgen more stern, yet it shut V1 up immediately. It could also be scared of him if need be.

“I am very aware ‘tis not sustainable long-term, V1. I do not require a creature such as thee stating the obvious.”

It watched as he got back to making breakfast. Taking out the ingredients for crêpes, setting the pan on the stove, mixing the batter… Like nothing was wrong.

“...‘Tis like the sea and tides. Some days are better, some days are worse. If thou happened upon me on a good day, thy mission of ‘rescuing’ me would be made that much easier.”

Did he want it to fix him now? V1 kind of wanted to say that it was too late to change his mind, but it wasn't that spiteful. It didn't feel these human emotions called ‘hatred’ or ‘exasperation’.

● ● ●

Today felt like a good day for sparring. He’d woken up refreshed for the first time in a long while, and somehow not a cell in his body hurt. There wasn't a single bad thought in his head.

His breakfast had been tasty, he'd taken a nap while cuddling with Minos on the couch, and… Maybe this was all because spring was approaching. The snow outside had started to melt, and the weather was getting warmer again. Nighttime came a bit later and the sun rose a bit sooner.

Currently, they were in the palace’s garden, with Minos checking which plants had survived this artificial winter, while Gabriel himself was just walking around. He wasn't expected to actually do something right now, was he?

“Hey, Minos. Should we spar?” He crouched down next to the other, who was currently inspecting a rose bush. “We definitely should spar.”

“Why, exactly?”

You promised, didn't you? Unless I’m remembering things completely wrong.

“Why not? Isn't beating somebody to a pulp a love language?” Gabriel plucked a dead rosebud from a branch. “I’ll go easy on you.”

“Thy clemency is not required, angel. Surely thou recall that I greatly outpower both thee and thy creature.”

He… did recall. He remembered, among other things, the video that the machine had shown of its first encounter with Minos. How hard he’d hit, how relentless his attacks had been. How full of hate he'd been.

“Then… would you go easy on me?” 

“Naturally,” Minos responded, almost sounding like he was sighing. Was Gabriel really being such a bother?

“Alright. So, do you want to go now?”

Minos pondered the question for a long while, before slowly nodding. Perhaps he was starting to warm up to the idea of a spar?

● ● ●

V1 was once again rummaging through Minos' room, confiscating his stupid alcohol and reading through his stupid ‘murder fantasy diary’.

Speaking of the diary… Its contents had become a lot less violent lately, though also a hint more sad. He was thinking about the past again. A little about what he'd gained, and a lot about what he'd lost. Torturing himself with the memories.

It already knew all the information that was down on those pages, so it put the diary aside, and instead grabbed the bottle of the darkest red wine it'd ever seen. What, was he drinking oil now?

V1 exited the room with the bottle in hand, and headed for the wine cellar. It was planning on boarding up the door down there to prevent Minos from accessing any more wine. 

…Everyone knew that a few planks and nails would do nothing to stop him. They'd just make it more obvious for V1 that he'd once more done the opposite of what was good for him. For all of them.

First, it decided to pay a visit to the palace terminal, if only to acquire the materials required to board up the wine cellar door. It hoped the thing would also dispose of this stupid bottle for it.

Once there, V1 sat down on the floor, and connected itself to the terminal with a cable. For the sake of easier conversation, it told itself.

>> Hello, V1.

>> Come to taunt me with your ability to absorb liquids, hm?

> No. I’m here to purchase wooden planks.

>> …I thought you could only break things.

V1 really wanted to douse the terminal with wine. Unfortunately, the thing was waterproof, which might've meant it was also wine-proof. ‘GabV1el’-shipping terminals deserved to get irreparably damaged by liquids.

> Rude.

>> Remember those little birds you made? All broke within a week. 

Did it have to bring that up now? V1 had just managed to forget about those small mechanical birds it'd made with Minos a while back. Before winter had come, actually.

> Shut up. Million points for five wooden planks.

That’d shut the thing up. It definitely wouldn't be able to stop itself from doing anything it could to get its grubby paws on those points, including shutting the fuck up.

>> Do you have a virus? I’ll gladly take all I can get from the rich, even if there's a catch.

>> But you're an esteemed customer of mine, so I have to ask. What's wrong?

False concern. The terminal was really playing with fire here, it'd get doused with wine really soon if it didn't cease its-

> Minos is the thing that's wrong.

>> Mister Judge of Hell? What's he done now?

It felt like it shouldn't be saying anything, but honestly? A bit of venting couldn't hurt.

> Former Judge of Hell. 

> He won't stop drinking. That's why I’m boarding up the wine cellar.

>> …But I like seeing him sad.

There was something really wrong with everyone in Hell right now. Gabriel was… he had too many issues to count. Minos had a wine issue, the Ferryman had a jealousy issue, that train-Drone had a body issue, and this terminal had a skill issue.

> You want Gabriel to be happy, right? Minos is jeopardising that.

>> Oh… 

>> Well. Planks are on the house.

● ● ●

Gabriel was prepared. His armour was laying polished on his bed, as were Justice and Splendor, reminding him of… yes, the good old days. He even felt as enthusiastic as he always had back then. Eager to do his duty, to prove his worth.

…Like a dog.

Yes, yes, he was the Father's favourite attack dog, silly little rabbit, and all that… Yeah, no. The Council’s favourite attack dog. 

He shouldn't have been still thinking about that. Wasn't life so much better now, hadn't he ‘escaped’? Hadn't he built a new life in the literal depths of Hell?

He… He could become Minos’ attack dog, if the man so wished. He'd been training for that role for millennia. He'd be good, he'd be better than good.

There was a knock at the door, and a familiar voice. He wanted to know what the man would sound like when Gabriel inevitably beat him in a fight.

“Art thou sufficiently prepared, angel?”

It'd probably be better if he put his armour on now, so he wouldn't have to haul it in a bag to their sparring spot. That'd save time and energy.

“Not yet. I still have to put my whole setup on, which will probably take at least half an hour.”

“Dost thou perhaps… require any assistance?”

Gabriel had to admit, he didn't mind the offer. It didn't involve a bed, wasn't necessarily indecent, and would absolutely make Minos happy. Maybe not extremely happy, but happy enough.

“...Stop talking through the door and just come in.” 

He sat down on a chair by his desk, and began putting on his armour. First, the cuisses, to protect his thighs. For a nanosecond, he thought about wedding garters.

“How may I be of aid, then?” Minos entered, and sat on the edge of the bed where Gabriel's armour was laid out. 

“Well… Could you hand me the other cuisse?”

Minos found the other cuisse on the bed after a bit of looking, right next to the greaves. Instead of handing it over, however, the man apparently decided to put it on Gabriel himself.

“W-wait, what…” Both his helmet and wings flushed pink as Minos kneeled down next to him, slipping the piece of armour on and securing it in place, as if he'd done this before. Gabriel needed to-

-marry this man immediately? Perhaps not. There are even more expectations in marriages.

“Hm? My apologies if this is out of line, my angel.”

“No, no, it's just… I didn't expect you to, well, do that, y'know?”

He let out a pretty awkward laugh. Not because he was uncomfortable, but because he had no idea what to do or say. To have this man basically dressing him, like a squire dressing their knight in armour, it was… strange. Strange, yet he didn't mind.

Gabriel put on one greave as Minos secured the other in place. Working together actually made this process a lot faster, if one didn't count the time it took for Gabriel to check the other's handiwork.

The other paused when putting on a rerebrace, and he only figured out why when a gentle hand caressed his upper arm. Right, they were there. Those rows upon rows of raised and slightly sunken lines, some lighter and some darker. The worst ones were gold. As if he was a shattered vase being put back together, as if those wounds would've killed him were he mortal. As if he was somehow prettier now.

“...Not a word, Minos.”

He didn’t want to deal with this today. Any other day, sure, but not today. This was supposed to be a good day.

And Minos didn’t say a word. Gabriel would’ve been glad for that, had it not made him feel extremely self-conscious all of a sudden. He’d gone and done it now, hadn’t he? Did this make it seem like he didn’t trust the other at all? 

Well, he didn’t, did he? He didn’t trust Minos, nor did he trust himself. He couldn’t really trust anyone anymore, because to trust meant to open oneself up to harm, and knowing how this world worked, there were far more bad people than good that’d take advantage of the chink in his armour.

Rerebraces, vambraces, tassets… With those on, Gabriel picked up his cuirass, and wiped off some of Minos' fingerprints from it. There'd be plenty more later, probably in blood.

Though he didn't need the aid, Gabriel didn't protest when the other helped him put on the cuirass. Minos could dress his ‘knight in shining armour’ if it made him happy. He could muzzle and collar his angel too, if he deemed that necessary. Gabriel wasn't going to bite, anyway, but one could never be too sure with wild animals.

Then came his gloves, and on top of those, his gauntlets. After that came his sabatons and pauldrons, because they apparently weren't doing this in any particular order now. He thought about that one folk tale with glass slippers and a young girl stuck in a place where even dirt got treated better than her. 

His own situation was nowhere near comparable, he reckoned. Perhaps it had been, once upon a time, but he'd now escaped to his prince’s perfect palace, where nothing could hurt him ever again. Except Gabriel himself, of course. He was his own worst enemy.

“...Perfect,” Minos said under his breath as he stood back up, finished with his squire-esque duties. Finally.

Who the fuck is this gorgeous man calling perfect? Me..? 

I’ve infected him with my stupidity.

He sheathed Justice and Splendor after a thorough check of their condition, and turned to Minos. “Excuse me..?”

“I am simply admiring the sight of my lovely angel donning his armour.”

“Oh, shut up.” Gabriel lightly smacked the other's shoulder, before heading for the door. “Shall we go? Wouldn't want to spar in the dark, would we?”

“I suppose not.”

With that, they headed down the corridor and to the main hall, where the machine and their round, magenta-coloured friend were waiting. Those two appeared to be playing… rock-paper-scissors or something.

…Wait, those round, squeaking things had an arm? He'd never noticed, mainly because he hadn't given a shit about them back then. Maybe he should befriend every machine he comes across in the future to make up for that.

Gabriel was starting to feel excited again, his body making that quite obvious with the stabbing pain of anxiety in his abdomen. He refrained from gripping the hilt of Splendor. Minos would definitely interpret that wrong.

…Time passed as they walked, yet his excitement did not die down. Stars, he was almost drooling at the thought of drawing blood, because that was how low he'd stoop. He was practically frothing at the mouth, as some would say.

He observed as the magenta machine squeaked something at the machine (confusing, isn't it?), and flew off to who-knows-where. Aw, didn't ‘Limbo–Fraud Line Train Something Cab Whatever’ want to see the sparring session of the century?

“Where'd it go now?”

*“Tired of flying. Wanted to go ‘home’.”

Oh well. An audience of one machine instead of two wasn't that bad, they still had 50 percent of their predicted viewership. Less disappointed viewers to deal with if he lost.

They were approaching their designated sparring ‘arena’, a rubble-free area not too far from the palace. The air had started getting a bit colder again as evening approached, the sun slowly setting, remaining buildings casting large shadows over their stage. Oh, and what a spectacular play it'd be!

…He hoped they wouldn't re-enact that one miserable day. Then again, Minos was actually willing to fight now, so things might go differently.

No, things would go differently. They were different, the both of them.

● ● ●

V1 leaned against the wall of an intact building, looking around for the perfect observation spot. It'd just get in their way down here.

Speaking of ‘them’, the lovebirds were preparing for a duel. Well, a spar, but those two were basically the same thing for everyone present.

Gabriel was once again polishing his blades, as he'd done a total of five times since they'd arrived here fifteen minutes ago.

“Shall we… settle on a ‘safe word’?” Minos began, wording his thoughts piss-poorly. Its angel would get the wrong idea.

…And he did.

“Wait, what? This… This isn't-” Gabriel sputtered, interpreting those words really fucking wrong. “We're not-”

“Angel, the term hath applications outside of intimate relations.”

Its angel stopped polishing the blue blade --whatever it was called-- and stared off into the distance for around a sixth of a minute. 

“...I knew that.”

Silence. Gabriel continued his task, even as Minos crouched down next to him and spoke. “So, shall we pick a word?”

“Do we really need one? I know when to stop, Minos.”

That may not have been meant as a jab, but it did make Minos pause nonetheless. V1 sensed a brief shift in his mood. Perhaps he assumed Gabriel had figured it out, or that it'd snitched.

“As thou wish.”

Minos got up, and not too long after, leaned against the wall next to V1. The aura of irritation surrounding him was so thick that it could've been eaten with a fork.

“Hast thou said anything?” Minos asked, quiet enough for its angel to not hear.

*“Nope. He'd be much sadder if he knew.”

That was true. Gabriel would've been unable to talk to him, unable to even look. Unable to refrain from doing terrible things to his body of flesh and bone.

Before Minos could respond, Gabriel deemed himself ready for their fight. He stood up tall, a blade gripped in each hand, and for one moment, he was indistinguishable from how he’d been when they first met. Confident and poised. Dignified and proud, with combat skills good enough to justify the seeming arrogance. 

“Minos, it's time.”

It could hear the smile in his voice. At this brief moment in their seemingly eternal existence, he was happy. He was himself, and he was happy.

“Hm? Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?” Its angel pointed the golden sword at Minos as he said this, before letting out a small laugh. “...That was awful.”

Minos recovered from his apparent daze soon enough. Could he be any less obvious about how absolutely divine he found Gabriel? How ‘attractive’ his newfound confidence was?

“N-no, no… ‘Twas very effective, angel.”

Already exhausted from their stupid flirting, V1 scaled the nearest building, and perched itself on a balcony twelve metres off the ground. That ought to be high enough, as long as neither of them took flight.

Gabriel made his way to one end of the ‘arena’, and Minos the other. Then, a brief moment of silence with no countdown, just as it'd been with V1 and its angel.

Without warning, Gabriel lunged forth, beginning this duel of theirs. It was figuratively on the edge of its seat.

Minos dodged the first few attacks, as expected. V1 could've dodged those too, as it'd seen that exact move when it'd fought Gabriel in Heresy. The fourth slash slightly scraping the man's arm was concerning, though. Was he going easy on its angel?

“Minos, you're supposed to fight back!”

Gabriel grew increasingly worked up the more Minos kept dodging his attacks. Honestly, it understood his frustration, as it would've felt that way too. He was just wasting energy, while Minos was conserving his. 

…Gabriel sounded almost betrayed, like he'd been promised the fight of a lifetime, only for his opponent to not even try. Like he was making a fool of himself.

“All in due time, my precious adversary.”

It had to briefly increase the sensitivity of its hearing to pick up Minos' response, almost as if it was only intended for Gabriel's ears. Attempting to distract its angel with that… Such a dirty trick.

Slash, dodge. Slice, dodge. Any other form of attack, dodge… Even V1 itself didn't dodge this much. It was almost as if Minos wasn't intending on fighting its angel at all, really.

…V1 could swear it heard footsteps above. Since those two were down there, it couldn't be them. Maybe a demon? No, they'd come for it immediately. An angel? Ludicrous. It hadn't seen a single angel --apart from Gabriel-- in a long while.

Survivors? Hm… Sure, though it couldn't understand why. This building had already been emptied of all the resources they could extract, with V1 taking what remained.

As the dynamics of the duel didn't appear to be changing anytime soon, it decided to check the noise out. It snuck into the apartment, and scurried into the hallway and up the steps. There was no time to linger. 

Scuttling upstairs, it saw one apartment door to be ajar, with two small figures sitting by the window. They reminded it of… humans. Tiny humans. 

*child

*/ˈtʃajəld/

*noun

*1. A person who has not yet reached adulthood, whether natural (puberty), cultural (initiation), or legal (majority).

Alright, that was a child. Two human children, in Hell, in the desolate fucking wasteland that was the Lust layer. They were very far from the smaller human camp, and also some distance from the larger one. Yes, these must've been from there. Should it return them? 

Probably not, it wasn't welcome there. Besides, it really wanted to see its angel getting his shit kicked in by someone else for once, so… V1 made the decision to ignore the children. They’d make for good sources of fuel if something happened to Gabriel, it told itself. Blood bags, willing or unwilling.

It returned to its spot on the balcony, just to find that the situation hadn't progressed at all. Every time Gabriel would get a bit too frustrated, Minos would ‘allow’ its angel’s blade to lightly graze his arm or something. It worked to make the other think he was getting somewhere. 

…How cruel.

Just then, it spotted a flash of blue that launched Gabriel to the other side of the ‘arena’ and into a hard concrete wall. V1 could see the indentation he left behind when he pried himself off of it.

“Finally! About fucking time, Minos.”

He sounded awfully ecstatic considering he'd just gotten flung so hard he left an indentation in the wall, but who was it to judge. Main point was that he was happy.

There was no response from Minos, but that didn't discourage its angel. Instead, he somehow fought twice as hard --as if that was even possible, he always gave it his all at the very beginning these days-- while managing to dodge several attacks by just a few inches.

Minos wasn't giving it his all. He could've absolutely pulverised Gabriel in an instant, yet he was choosing not to. It could admire his restraint.

An attack connected with his angel's abdomen, sending him hurtling into (and through) a pile of rubble that used to be an apartment building or something. For a moment, nothing happened.

“...Angel?”

Ah, even Minos was concerned now. Perhaps he'd overestimated the force required to launch an angel into the ether. 

An unstoppable force (Minos’ fist) had just met a very movable object (its angel), so it was only natural for Gabriel to take a moment to recover. It wasn't too worried. And so, after less than half a minute, V1 saw a hand emerging from the pile of rubble. That was followed by the rest of its angel, now clad in red, absolutely livid. This was going to be fun.

It was just a flurry of red and gold and blue and white from then on. V1 had to record the scene and then slow it down so that it could make any sense of it, a process which --in its opinion-- was pretty inefficient.

…Minos pried the blue blade (was that Justice or Splendor? It felt stupid for not remembering) from its angel's hand and sent the blade flying toward a wall, where it embedded itself in the concrete. 

However, Gabriel wasn't discouraged in the slightest. His attacks only got more frequent, in fact, now having to only focus on using one blade. Dual-wielding wasn't exactly practical (and that showed, even though he was good with two swords as well).

V1 zoomed in a bit, and could swear it saw teeth. Obviously. It predicted that when he inevitably lost the other blade too, he'd resort to biting, ‘like an animal’. Hopefully Minos’ arm was more difficult to rip off than its.

Eventually, Gabriel's armour faded back to its regular white and gold, and his golden wings gained a hint of blue. V1 could allow Minos to evoke that reaction in its angel today. They both had done really well so far, so who was V1 to ruin their mood?

Damn… This was taking way too long. It'd just gotten a low fuel alert (there was still around 20 percent left), so it may have been getting a bit antsy watching this go on and on and on. Were neither of them getting tired yet?

…And there went the golden blade. Its angel, disarmed, just like that. He didn't appear at all dismayed. Once Gabriel was a safe distance away, he just began… Why was he removing his gauntlet?

“Well, well…” Its angel laughed breathlessly. “Aren't you clever, aren't you sharp?”

Yep, he was absolutely losing it. Now with both gloves removed, Gabriel put his gauntlets back on. There was absolutely no point in doing that.

Minos seemed as confused as it was. Its angel took advantage of this opportunity and pounced, as if he was a starving wolf and Minos a delicious rabbit. Like a moth to a flame. Like light to a singularity.

Though the other dodged, Gabriel managed to sink his teeth into Minos' forearm, letting out a cathartic laugh before biting down. He clung on as the other attempted to pry his jaws open, and even repeatedly tried to tear the whole arm off.

V1 was glad it wasn't on the receiving end of that.

● ● ●

Gabriel couldn't recall the last time he'd been so… so hungry, so bloodthirsty. His mouth watered at the mere thought of biting into that luscious, succulent flesh before him, chewing on the tender meat and lapping up all the sapid blood. What were some angel rules to keep a starving man from a delicious feast? The banquet had begun, and Gabriel was the guest of honour.

He rushed forth, sharp teeth once again piercing flesh. Stars, this was what he was made for. Tearing through flesh, spilling blood, seeing the terror in-

Well, Minos didn't have a face, but he could tell the man hadn't expected this. He was backing up, just trying to dodge, trying to avoid the jaws of his favourite angel.

Give up now, while you're still in one piece.

A brief distraction, and Gabriel was clawing at the hand around his throat. Yes… Yes, this was good. This was lovely.

He kicked Minos in the abdomen, which made the man momentarily loosen his grip. Gabriel slipped free, but instead of retreating and properly calculating his next move, immediately went in for another bite. He truly was insatiable, wasn't he?

Gabriel received a serpentine projectile in the face for his efforts. Was this how people on the receiving end of a surprise kiss felt?

The craving for flesh between his teeth wouldn't cease, so he lunged towards Minos once more. He needed to beat him, he needed to have the other on the ground beneath him, he needed to have Minos' flesh in him.

…As he wasn't exactly sane right now, Gabriel didn't think of how weird that sounded. 

Oh, he must've hit a large vein, as blood just poured onto his tongue and flowed down his throat. He was made for this, he-

Minos' hand wrapped around his throat again, and Gabriel almost believed he could escape like he did maybe half a minute before. This time, he was being held further away, so he couldn't kick his way out. He clawed at anything he could reach --mainly just Minos’ arm and hand-- yet the other's grip remained strong.

He couldn't kick, he couldn't claw, he couldn't bite, he couldn't scream, he couldn't cry, he couldn't beg, he couldn't… He could breathe, that much he knew.

His… His feet couldn't touch the ground, his eyes couldn't focus with the darkness creeping in. A sensation of pinpricks enveloped his fingers. A feeling of warmth washed over him, despite it feeling like he was actively dying.

Gabriel attempted to say something, even as his throat felt raw, sore, and sticky. Though he felt as if he was on the verge of passing out, he couldn't resist the smile creeping onto his lips.

“I…” He winced as he tried to clear his throat, darkness clouding his vision. “I think… I think I love you.”

…Then, nothing.

● ● ●

Its angel had completely lost it. Something had to have snapped or completely broken in him, because he'd never been like this. He'd bitten the man he so loved, several times, relentlessly pursuing the other when he backed away. Like a dog that had gotten a taste for blood.

Speaking of that feral canine of an angel, he was currently being carried back to the palace by Minos. Unconscious, of course.

…V1 had disinfected and bandaged Minos’ bite wounds with the supplies from its first-aid kit, not that it cared for him at all. His wounds healed pretty fast, anyway. That was for the sake of his (already piss-poor) mental wellbeing.

*“That was… something.”

Minos let out something of a chuckle upon reading that, suggesting that he probably didn't hate Gabriel for this. That was good.

“...Indeed.”

*“It was almost like he wanted to eat you.”

It'd come to that conclusion when it started looking like he wasn't even trying to beat Minos in a fight anymore. Just biting and biting, attempting to possibly tear a limb or chunk of flesh off.

…Yes, yes. It wanted a part of Gabriel (his blood) in it, so perhaps it was natural for angels to want a loved one's flesh in their damn digestive tract.

“I had not considered it from that angle,” Minos responded rather calmly. “...‘Tis plausible.”

A particular question burned at the back of V1’s system, and it honestly couldn't stop itself from asking.

*“Would you eat him if you could?”

Silence stretched on as they walked, its angel muttering something softly in his sleep. It… appeared he'd gone from being unconscious to being asleep, whatever the difference was.

“No..?”

*“I hear the question mark in that.”

Though the man had no face, V1 could tell what the look Minos gave it was. Exhaustion. That was understandable, considering all that he'd had to endure today (and would endure later in the evening when he’d find the wine cellar boarded up).

V1’s intervention, Gabriel understanding the word ‘spar’ really wrong and going in intending to decimate him, not being able to have his afternoon sip of ‘forget juice’... Maybe he'd snap sometime soon.

Toxic. Their relationship would turn toxic --even more than it may have already been-- if Minos were to snap. That would spell disaster.

Before long, they returned to their shared abode, and headed straight for the main lounge. V1 knew to fetch a pillow and a blanket for its angel from a guest room. While there, it popped by Gabriel's room and left his two blades on the bed.

*adorable

*/əˈdorəbəl/

*adjective 

*1. befitting of being adored; cute or loveable.

…Indeed, he was adorable, especially when it tucked him in on the couch. Especially when he instinctively grabbed onto Minos' hand in his sleep.

“V1? Dost thou reckon we should remove his armour?” Minos inquired after a bit, crouched down next to the couch. “Sleeping like this cannot be comfortable.”

*“We should wake him up and get him to do- 

*“to do it himself. Duh.”

Minos looked at it for a moment, before sighing. “...Ah, obviously. What would I ever do without thee?”

It observed him gently nudging Gabriel's shoulder, which achieved absolutely nothing apart from a quiet groan. Another victim of the ‘sleepy bitch disease’, huh?

“Angel? I require thee to be awake for just a moment.”

The soft tone of voice and a hand on his helmet appeared to work better, as its angel lifted his head a little.

“Mh..?”

“I would assume thine armour to be uncomfortable to sleep in.” Minos gently pulled off a gauntlet. “Am I correct?”

“...Yeah.

V1 liked the sight of dried blood under its angel's fingernails. It liked the bit of dried blood left where his fucked up mouth had been, and it liked how he sounded after coming out of his ‘haze’. He sounded so lost.

“Hast thou perhaps considered doing something about it?”

“Like… Like what?”

Damn, he was very lost.

“Removing thine armour, mayhaps?” Minos tilted Gabriel's face up by the chin a little, revealing-

Oh, yeah, those were bruises around his throat. Though a bit difficult to notice, V1 could make out some fingerprint-shaped bruises on the sides, which were clearly the result of how that duel had ended.

Well, it hoped Gabriel was into that or something.

“What for?” Its angel muttered, very much sounding like he was planning on going back to sleep if the answer was unsatisfactory.

“...Sit up, angel.”

Begrudgingly --and with some help from it-- Gabriel obliged. He sat up and leaned his head on the backrest, gazing up at V1.

“He's so mean today, isn't he..?”

It didn't really agree with his inaccurate observation, so it just replied by lightly patting the cheek of his helmet. He didn't need to know it disagreed.

“Thine accusation severely wounds me.”

Minos carefully removed its angel's… arm guards, or whatever those were called. It wasn't that well-versed in armour terminology.

“Oh… Sorry. That was said in jest.”

“Naturally.” 

Then went his leg armour, then pauldrons, then chestplate, until its angel was perfectly peeled. An angel's armour was clearly a shell or peel of some sort.

Gabriel leaned in for warmth when Minos sat down next to him, as people tended to get cold when barely clothed. V1 wrapped the blanket around the two.

“...What’s with the bandages?” 

Ah, Gabriel had noticed the shitty job it'd done patching Minos up. No blood had seeped into the bandages, as the man healed pretty quickly, but of course one would be as concerned when seeing bandages on a loved one.

Wait… Didn't he remember what he'd done?

“How much dost thou recall?”

“Well, uhm… We sparred, right?” Its angel looked up at the other like he'd hung the moon and stars in the night sky for him, before pausing. “...Wait, who won?”

V1, having now plopped itself down on the floor in front of the couch (since there was no longer a coffee table there), pointed to Minos.

“What..? Didn't you say you'd go easy on me?”

“Thou didst not ‘go easy’ on me either, my dove.”

There was something rather funny about him calling an angel --that'd showed himself to be much like a dog-- a dove. For someone that could be so batshit insane to be called something that was a symbol of innocence and purity… Silly.

“I didn't?”

With a sigh, Minos unwrapped the bandages, revealing an almost oval-shaped bite mark with clear indentations and nearly healed wounds where Gabriel's teeth had made contact. The area was still slightly reddened and a bit swollen, and there was a large bruise forming.

“That was… me?” Its angel sounded genuinely surprised, a reaction which seemed even more genuine when he moved to the other end of the couch. As if he was afraid he'd hurt the man again.

“Worry not, I was emotionally prepared this time.”

This wasn't the time to be saying things like that! Its angel was obviously distressed upon learning he'd hurt his beloved, so this wasn't the time to be bringing up their shared history.

“I-I’m so sorry, Minos, I…” Gabriel pulled his knees up to his chest, and wrapped his now light grey wings around himself. “I really don't know what happened, or… or why I’d…”

“...‘Tis alright, angel.”

Its angel flinched as Minos lightly touched his wing, curling up even more. This wasn't normal. Perhaps Gabriel had simply recalled something from his past, or was overthinking things again.

“I… I don't know what I was thinking, I’m sorry.” His sentence ended with a sniffle, making it feel… quite bad. He probably hadn't been in full control of his actions then, and now that he was, he felt crushing guilt.

V1 hesitantly extended a hand towards him, as it couldn't recall what else to do. Its system must've recently shredded its file on grounding techniques --customised just for its angel-- since it couldn't find the thing anywhere.

Surprisingly enough, Gabriel took its hand, and squeezed it tightly. A bit too tightly, but who was it to complain.

● ● ●

A muzzle would've probably prevented this. He'd look absolutely ridiculous with a muzzle on, but at least it'd prevent him from biting anyone.

Oh, and gloves glued to his hands so he wouldn't be able to scratch anyone. Minos had red scratch marks all the way up his arm, which were most likely Gabriel's fault.

“Aren’t dogs that bite somebody usually put down?”

He… had somewhat accepted what'd happened. They were sparring, and when he lost his weapons, he resorted to biting. Just like when he'd sparred with the machine.

“Angels are not even remotely comparable to canines.”

I know that. But I am.

“And if I wasn't an angel?”

“Gabriel…” Minos sighed, and scritched a wing a couple times. “I have forgiven thee already.”

I know that. But I haven't.

He couldn't allow himself to be swayed by a few nice words, he couldn't let the grip he had on himself slip again. He had to have himself on a leash which Minos refused to take.

“...I don't think I should do any sparring for a while.”

Chapter Text

Today would be a good day, it'd decided. Good day for what? For bringing its two favourite idiots to that large camp of humans(?), of course. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

There'd be many benefits to this. For Minos, it'd show that some people had survived all that shit, and might be waiting for his return. It'd show that everything wasn't unsalvageable. It wasn't exactly his fault that Heaven was a-

For its angel, it'd show that he hadn't managed to kill a whole layer's worth of people. Some might forgive him --given he’d share why he'd done what he did-- and some might not. It’d show that not everybody had to forgive him, nor did he have to forgive everyone.

Those two could even trade stuff with the people at the camp! Their resident 3D printer, Gabriel, surely wouldn't mind being their golden goose.

Currently, V1 was seated at the end of Minos’ bed, observing the the latter pacing around the room. He seemed rather irritable at the moment. Could… Could lifeforms like him get withdrawals..? It’d been four hours since it’d confiscated the bit of wine it found on him, because apparently he had more than one stash. It didn't even want to understand him anymore.

…Perhaps a distraction --such as visiting that large survivor camp-- could help.

*“I have some fun activities planned for-” 

*“planned for today.”

Minos let out a heavy sigh upon reading its words, and sat down on the edge of the bed. Couldn’t he at least pretend to be excited? He’d ruin its angel’s mood before they even set off!

“Such as..?”

*“You’ll see.”

● ● ●

An afternoon walk with all three of them wasn’t what he’d expected the machine to suggest when it burst right through his bedroom door, but he wasn’t complaining. At least he’d be forced to get some fresh air this way, since he’d spent the past three days confined to his bed, recovering from that incident where he’d once again lost his fucking mind when sparring and bitten Minos.

…He couldn’t understand why the man still looked at him the way he did. Though there were no expressions to base his assumptions off of, Minos’ gaze still felt so soft when looking at him. No pinpricks or a burning hot beam piercing right through him. It was soft like pillows, gentle like the wind.

What he could understand even less was how Minos still dared touch him. Gabriel’s heart felt like it was going to explode whenever the man lightly scritched his wing, or gently squeezed his hand, or occasionally wrapped him in a warm embrace. He couldn’t comprehend why neither of those two had yet muzzled and collared him, or locked him away in some dark and dingy dungeon.

“Machine? Do you have some sort of destination in mind, or… are we just wandering?”

It was obvious that the machine was leading them somewhere, but he had to ask. He much preferred knowing whether they were walking into obvious danger or not.

*“You’ll see.”

“You’ve been saying that for the past hour..! Wh-” Gabriel paused when Minos looked at him, and lowered his volume. “...Sorry. I just would like to know what trap we’re walking into this time.”

There was no response, only the howling of wind through and between still-standing buildings. This district had been spared from utter decimation, but… it’d then witnessed the destruction of the city around it, endured abandonment and the cold. No wonder it wept and wailed.

…I need to stop thinking.

He could hear how the buildings creaked and groaned, how they lamented the loss of those that’d cared for them, how they grieved. A letter or two on an otherwise unlit neon sign flickered, and shattered glass crunched beneath his feet like bones. His gaze remained on the ground from then on.

Stop thinking.

Gabriel tried to imagine how this place must've been back then. Brick-and-mortar stores lining the street, their windows brightly lit and displaying the hottest new product. The chatter of crowds. Casual conversation, laughter, tears… Meetings between friends, dates between couples, reunions between relatives, and-

Stop. Thinking.

How busy had this particular street been? The destroyed displays appeared to have shown all kinds of useless junk, ranging from plush toys to… some different kind of toys. Naturally, because this was the Lust layer.

…Just stop. Please, just stop. 

He spotted a rusty stroller with all the fabric torn off. The frame, just sitting there. 

…Children, down here due to no fault of their own, but because some adults decided to subject a child to eternal torment in Hell. Didn't they ever think that maybe they shouldn't do that? No, probably not. Why-

You killed them, remember? You remember that, right? Do you remember-

Shut up, shut up, shut up..! 

A hand tightly grabbed his wrist, and yanked it away from where it'd been. There was blood on his fingers, bright red, some of it already dried under his fingernails. Who had he hurt this time?

“...Gabriel, sweetheart. Dost thou realise thou art injuring thyself?” 

Minos. That was Minos' voice. He… didn't sound mad in the slightest, just concerned. Oh, and why was he saying that? Gabriel wasn't doing anything like that, he was hurting somebody else. Wasn't he?

There was a sizable bald patch in the middle of one of his wings, the spot not only devoid of feathers but almost devoid of his epidermis. There was blood. Blood, oozing from the wound, staining his suddenly ashen white feathers. Like a dove shot in the wing.

“I… I did that..?” 

What did Gabriel sound so surprised for? He wasn't a stranger to maiming himself, but he was usually mentally there when he did it. He usually did that consciously, out of his own free will, delighting in watching his blood flow.

“Mhm.” Minos nodded, and herded him towards a surprisingly intact store. “We shall take a short break to mend thy wound. Right, V1?”

The machine, which had been previously walking a short distance in front of them, turned around upon hearing that. After a moment of processing his words, it nodded.

They entered the store, where he was sat down on a cracked and dusty leather couch. It appeared to be the waiting room of a hair salon, with posters torn and curtains shredded, cash register pried open and cabinets rummaged through. Dyes smeared on the floor. He wasn't sure if the red was dye or blood, though.

The machine dug out a some sort of tube --probably something that'd make the wound heal faster-- and pulled open his wing as Minos sat down on his other side.

“I’m… sorry,” he muttered as Minos gently took his hand, and wiped it clean of blood.

“Thou need not apologise for anything, angel.”

Gabriel stayed quiet after that. Why did Minos have to be so nice and understanding? It made him feel bad for being anything but.

…He wondered how many people had sat in the exact same spot he was currently in. How many wives, mothers, and daughters had sat there and soaked up the atmosphere. How many partners, parents, and children had struggled to pick what colour they wanted to dye their hair. How many husbands, fathers-

Don't. Just stop that. Stop that.

He wondered how many people had come in here for shelter when he'd done what required no repetition. How many screamed, how many cried, how many… Were they with loved ones when calamity struck? Were they at work, or out on a date, or doing their shopping for the week? Did they worry about the loved ones they'd left at home? Did… Did they even have pets down here? 

Stop, stop, stop. Cease at once.

What were their last words? Did they have favourite colours? What were their favourite meals? Did-

“Angel?”

Minos’ voice jolted him back to reality. Right, he was… he was still Gabriel. Yes, the archangel. That one. When would someone officially strip him of that title, anyway?

“Hm..?”