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You watch him, your eyes beating red behind the night blue sky color cover you have over them. His eyes are a stark blue. A mix between the sky and ocean. How is that possible? You smile as you sit under the sun umbrella on a towel to keep yourself from getting burned. He goes to the sand and makes a sand-angel as he calls them, his honey-blonde hair is short with a slight curl to it, wavy as humans would say.
Your time in the underworld feels almost meaningless now. You used to bring demons back, scold those who stayed later on the upperworld than necessary. Even those who are scaring innocent humans because they believe that demons are in just ‘very realistic and scary’ costumes. Or those who had whiney souls. Because everyone goes down under, the thing with hell is it is more like the Greek underworld. A place for those who did good, those who were not too good or too bad in life, and those who are beyond terrible.
You used to laugh when some faith believers did not understand why they were going to the bad part because they were trying to ‘save’ those who did not follow their faith, unrealizing that they were the ones who were being ‘sinners’. Just his smile and laugh alone is enough to make you smile, his touch and kindness is enough to make you relax and talk about what is making you stressed. Even if you are not ready to talk about it, he just somehow seems to know when you need space and he makes your favorite meal. Whatever it is.
Demons are not meant to eat. At least, they are not meant to eat human food. We’re meant more for eating souls because people want to reincarnate, or blood, or bones, nearly anything but whatever humans eat. The day you stayed here because of deal is one that is unforgettable.
It was cold and raining that night, the night you met him, he was in his duplex as two of his friends decided to summon a demon. That demon happened to be you, your hair a reddish brown with more brown in it at the time, went. Both you and him agreeing that his friends were foolish for what they did. He got you to huff out an actual laugh instead of a snicker. After you left him that night, something in you changed. It was hard to pin point what it was, it still is, but you started sneaking to the above world. You started visiting him more and more, you so blissfully unaware that you were leaving something crushed and crumpled in your wake. Your tail eventually just going back and forth in his presence or even the mere thought of him. When confronted you said you had made a deal but when the deal was completed you still visited him. Something about him captivates you and it is hard to watch.
Now that you are above than below, your hair is more brown with the red hidden. As if you are trying to forget who you are, even though you are the last person to forget who – what – you are because you know that someday, someday all these memories (the word feels like acid) that you are making with and of him, will come crashing down. You will have to return home one day whether it is due to his inevitable death or either one of you coming to the realization that whatever it is that you are hoping, building for, will never come true. Demons always cause destruction, that part of their mythos is true and so rue the day that you two cannot work out.
But, if it is any consolation, I will always be right here. Waiting for you with open arms, hoping that any memory of him fades from you him being a silent ghost of your past. As I turn from the branch I am sitting on, getting ready to go down below, I see you adjusting your glasses to get a better look at him and his smiling freckled face, his glasses bouncing as he laughs. You openly laugh now. The center of my chest clenches and stings. The scar that covers my left eye starts burning, and I leave.
You seem genuinely happy and it hurts knowing it is not with me.