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Several days ago, your and your boyfriend, Azazel, headed out for a cozy night at a drive-in, figuring that in the dark, no one would notice Azazel or would care. Except one guy did, calling him a demon. Azazel had laughed it off, saying the insult was nothing new when he’d lived so long.
But as he was drinking whiskey in your living room like his life depended on it, you knew something was wrong.
You didn’t know much about Azazel’s past, but you had the feeling that the comment about him looking like a demon had struck him harder than it usually did.
As you at beside him on your sofa, you gestured to the bottle of whiskey on the coffee table.
“Is there any left for me?” you asked.
“Of course, I’m not stopping you.” You eyed him before pouring yourself a glass and sipping it. It wasn’t your favourite, since it was one Azazel had bought ages ago and left in your kitchen, but it would do. It warmed the back of your throat and then you sighed. There was no point in tip-toeing around the subject with him.
“Something’s bothering you, isn’t it?” you asked. He looked at you before taking another drink.
“I just want a drink.”
“You don’t usually drink that much,” you said softly. Half a bottle in only an hour was concerning. The last think you needed was him passing out from drinking too much. “And I know something is bothering you. You don’t have to tell me, but getting to the bottom of the bottle won’t help anything. We can just… spend some time together if that’ll help.” You did want to know just why the random stranger’s comment had upset him so much, but you also thought it might not be something he’d want to talk about. At least, not yet. Azazel usually talked to you about everything, including who had annoyed him. But maybe this was something he wasn’t yet ready to share.
He finished the last drops in the glass before setting it down next to the bottle. Azazel didn’t pick up the bottle to pour more, but he looked tense.
“I’m angry that we still live in a world where I cannot go on a date with my girlfriend without being called a monster,” he whispered. He swallowed hard and let out a short laugh. “I’ll never escape being called a demon, but for one night it went so well until…”
“Azazel…” You reached for his hand and intertwined your fingers with his. “I’m sorry that you have to deal with it.” As a mutant who didn’t look outwardly different, you would never experience the hatred in the same way he did.
His gaze met yours and he gave a soft smile.
“All of my life, I’ve had people call me that, and much worse. It’s a distant past now, but… I’ve had people try to do much worse. As a child, I survived on my own because it was better that what my life had been. Struggling to find food was better than constantly being told I was the Devil, or a demon, or Satan, or whatever else they wanted to name me.” Your words failed you and you rested your head against his shoulder. You knew he’d always been that way from what he’d mentioned of his past before, that he had always been the way he looked. “When I unlocked my teleportation abilities, it was because I wanted to be out of… I needed to leave in any way possible, and then suddenly, I was somewhere else. Then I started thinking I truly was a demon. What else could I be?”
Azazel closed his eyes and you gently squeezed his hand.
“Other people might think you look like one, but you’re not, not to me,” you asked quietly. “Is there anything I can do to help?” You hoped he wouldn’t say more whiskey, and expected him to say he didn’t know.
“Just stay with me,” he whispered. You nodded and snuggled closer.
“That I can do,” you said. “Since I’m afraid you’re not allowed to get rid of me.” He must have struggled so much as a child, your heart ached for him and the suffering he must have endured.
“If people could see what us mutants were capable of, if they knew just how many of us were out there, they wouldn’t dare to say or do such things,” he said. His voice tremble slightly and he took a deep breath. “I hate all the memories that ignorant people can bring up like that. And I just keep thinking about them…”
“Thinking about what?”Azazel didn’t answer.
“If mutants were in charge, then no one would dare say such things,” he muttered. His jaw clenched and you raised your and to his cheek. “Then I could go out with you, and you wouldn’t have to hear the things they call me.”
“The world will get better, and I’m sorry it wasn’t to you,” you whispered. “They can call you a demon all they want, but you’re handsome, and my guardian angel.” You kissed him softly and Azazel managed a small smile when you pulled away.
“I hurt people.”
“But you protect me. Demons don’t protect others, they’re selfish and evil and can’t love,” you said. Usually, you could handle yourself. But some powers were too much, and know Azazel could get you away from harm in less than a second was comforting. “And I love you. I never cared what you looked like when I met you, and now I’d never think anyone is as handsome as you. In fact, I think the people who said those things to you, and did those things to you when you were younger, have to take a good look at themselves and ask why they dared to ever say them, especially when you were a child.”
“How did I ever deserve you?” he whispered. You just smiled and shrugged before wrapping your arms around him and leaning in to kiss him again. No matter how many times he suffered insults, you were always there to remind Azazel that you loved him, no matter what he looked like.