Philonecron was actually quite a pleasant demon. So he could not fathom why he had developed feelings for a mortal.
Much less a child mortal. Or, well, teenager...
Pedophile was such a strong, unpleasant word... So crude, so vulgar...
And Philonecron was, of course, neither crude nor vulgar, nor unpleasant, nor strong... Physically, at least. He was likely one of the most mentally strong inhabitants of the underworld.
...Ex-inhabitants, Philonecron thought simply rude Hades had been, banishing him.
His Zero was never rude.
No, Philonecron ordered himself, pushing away the thought. None of that. Was he really a ...p-word... if he wasn't attracted to his Zero for his youth?
Philonecron knew that still counted, probably. But he would have liked Zero just the same had he been forty-eight, or a two-hundred-year-old demon, or a demon three-thousand years older than himself.
But he would probably have never noticed Zero had he been any of those others. All that brought them together was the shadow-stealing business.
And on to the shadow-stealing business Philonecron's mind wandered. That business had led to another business, the taking-over-the-universe business, which had led to the upstart gods imprisoning him in Phil. The only time he (Philonecron) was truly free was in his sleep. During wakefulness, he was trapped in a prison of the one named Phil. Phil was really boring. Phil sold low-quality suits. Phil didn't even know who Ze-
No.
But he's so charming! Another side of him protested. And witty, and sweet, and don't even get me started on those doe-eyes...
No, insisted the side that was determined to let Zero go. Stop being so dependent.
Why? Philonecron demanded petulantly. Now his two selves were in the black room, facing each other, arguing. Where had once sat a single Philonecron in a wheelchair stood a window to Zero's life. He was playing a game in which he kicked a round object around a field.
Philonecron sighed; both of him. One of him sighed with longing, and the other with sadness. Why can't it be? Asked the one who was gazing into the glass with excruciating pain and intense hope that maybe, just maybe, Zero would come rescue him...
Because, the sad Philonecron answered. Even if you could get to him, he would still despise you. You're the enemy.
But why? The pitiable Philoncron asked. I could use the-
The what? The blood? It wouldn't be him. Zero faults, you said- I found one. He hates you.
No, Philonecron shook his head, gazing at his other self, morphing and twisting and becoming something more... something more... Indelicate. The other Philonecron had no subtlety, no refinement, no grace.
He is glad you're gone, the other one said. He hates you, so why would he deserve your silly little nickname? His name is Zachary, befitting of a faulted one.
Philonecron stared at the monster in confusion. This was no longer 'his other self'. No, Philonecron would never even think any of those things.
Zero means no faults. He is my Zero. He has no faults in my eyes, Philonecron told the monster staring back at him.
But the monster had had a point; Zero didn't want him around. And so Philonecron made a decision.
His mission was no longer to take over the universe. No, his mission was now far greater.
Philonecron's new mission would be to protect his Zero's happiness, even if he was buried and far away. (That wasn't to say he knew how- he just would.)
Zero means faultless. You are my faultless, he whispered to the glass. His wide-eyed face was smushed up against the mirror in a moment of indignity.
Far away from Phil's napping form, in a sunny soccer field, Zee thought he heard someone say something extremely strange.
"Was that you?" Zee asked the person next to him.
"What?" the person asked back.
"Did you say something?"
"...No?"