The first thing Pip noticed when he opened his eyes was a sense of numbness.
As he blinked, he couldn't help the disoriented feeling in his head as he stared up at the dark night sky. It hadn't quite come to him yet what he was doing on the ground; he couldn't recall ever lying down. He shifted his left hand first, then his right, trying to push away the strange feeling. Instead, he was faced with the lightness of his limbs and the sense of emptiness in his chest. His fingertips brushed against the ground as he pushed himself upright, trying to take in his surroundings. It was mass chaos; buildings collapsing, people screaming.
The second thing he noticed was the pile of flesh and bones smashed into the concrete.
Oh.
Everything struck him at once as he sat beside what he assumed was his remains. It was hard to guess otherwise; he was sure that somewhere in that mess there was a little boy. Well, used to be. It was becoming clearer that he was no longer associated with what was left.
If the numbness in his body wasn't enough, it had now spread to his mind. The evidence was all right in front of him, but he wasn't about to accept it. Yes, he'd run at the robot, and yes, he'd tried to run away when his plan failed, but it couldn't have fallen apart that easily... couldn't it?
The only thing Pip could do was let out a sigh with whatever remaining air was in his lungs. He shifted his position and shifted his focus from the body to the town, watching people disappear from view as they ran further and further to safety. Surely someone would come back for him. He was still convinced he wasn't really dead, but theoretically, if he was, they would collect him.
"Well this is jolly fine," he whispered. There was nobody left but himself and a bunch of bloodstained asphalt. If he was dead, why was he just sitting here? Wasn't he supposed to go to heaven, or hell, or any other of those sort of places? Was he a ghost?
He shivered at the thought, weightless body curling in upon itself. No, he was not a ghost. If he was a ghost he would know. He was just plain dead, and that was that. The acceptance was finally dawning on him; his life was all over. Now he was doomed to… whatever this was.
He wasn't sure if being alone and dead would be a better fate than alive and bullied.
There really wasn't a choice now though, anyway.
"I don't see why I'm all floaty and lost," he whispered, attention turning back to his body. "I thought people were supposed to go somewhere else, or perhaps not exist at all. But here I am, and I'm going to have to make the most of it." Even if the body couldn't talk back, it offered some sort of comfort in the stillness. "Though… if I'm floaty and lost feeling, that must mean there's somewhere I'm supposed to be. Can't be lost if you haven't got a place to go, isn't that right?"
The body didn't answer.
"You're just as useless alive as you are dead, aren't you?" Pip sighed, again curling up onto the ground beside himself. It wouldn't be long until someone came to find him. Maybe the other boys, or maybe his foster parents, or maybe even the police or the fire department; whoever comes and gets dead things.
It was a nice thought, but unrealistic. Nobody really cared about him. They probably didn't even notice that he was gone. They might miss bullying him, maybe, at the very least. They'll remember him when they needed someone to shove in the mud or punch or to call names or…
Could ghosts cry?
If the answer was no, then he really wasn't a ghost.
He rubbed at his face, even the feeling of his fingertips against his cheeks missing in his new state. It only made the tears fall faster, a few sobs escaping his heaving, empty chest. He couldn't even feel himself. All he had were these crummy emotions and this empty body and this stupid pile of dead Phillip Pirrup.
It was enough to drive him mad.
"I'll just lay down," he whimpered, arms crossing to his shoulders as he shifted back onto the earth. He rested on his side, back turned to his corpse. He didn't want to look at it anymore or even remember it was there, despite the quiet whisper in his heart begging to stay near to it. He couldn't help it. If nobody else was going to care, he guessed he would have to do the job himself. "I'll lay down right here and I'll wait and wait until someone or something comes to get me. And then… then after that, maybe if I feel like it, I'll get up and go somewhere. But not until this is taken care of."
His quiet mumbling left his mind and weightless body satisfied enough to settle down and rest.
An hour turned to the entire night, which turned into morning… which turned into two days.
He refused to move, even if it was hard. He felt no pain nor hunger nor need to rest, but he stayed still anyway. It had been over 48 hours since he had been killed, and nobody had even so much as glanced at what he used to be. Did they care? Did they even see it? Was it just there to torture him?
Accepting defeat, Pip sat up again, rubbing once more at his very numb, tearstained cheeks. It was clear that even in death, he was forgotten about. All he could really do was stand up now and ignore the feeling in his chest that told him to stay. This clearly wasn't the place for him right now. If he was really lost, he was going to find where he needed to go.
His legs trembled as he pushed himself to his feet, wobbling a little. He felt so weak like this. "I guess that makes sense," he muttered out loud, looking down at his feet, "if I have nothing inside me now, then it must be hard to move. But you don't need anything to move nothing… so again this doesn't make much sense."
The logic of it all was much too confusing.
"Well, off we go then," he said, trying to lift his chin up a bit. That's what his foster parents told him- chin up! Nobody will hurt you if you look like a more confident young lad. It never really worked for him, but it was a comforting thing to imagine. In this scary, lonely world, he could be safe if he just pushed forward.
So he did; he put one foot in front of the other and pushed onward. After a few minutes he had adjusted his stride, and he felt a bit like himself again. He went down the street past all the buildings being repaired and weaved among the people as if he was one of them. He went down the big hill and past the school and past his old house and right to Starks Pond. By that time, it was night again, and he felt no more tired than he had when he had started.
"I miss going to bed," he sighed, plopping down onto the bank and staring into the water at the moon's reflection. The grass didn't even rustle; nothing so far had let him interact. He wondered if everyone else was doing alright. "Perhaps," he continued, eyes towards the stars, "maybe the others are all safe in bed right now. Maybe they're thinking about school tomorrow and homework and their nice friends. Maybe tomorrow when they go to school they'll notice I'm not there and they'll wonder what happened. Maybe they'll think I ran away to a circus or to a nice, happy town where everyone loves me and they'll say, 'boy that Pip, I'm awful jealous of how nice he has it now!' Wouldn't that be so lovely?"
The stars, like the body, couldn't answer.
Pip listened to the silence, almost anticipating a response by now.
"Oh please," he begged, feeling those terrible tears returning. "I… all I ask for is one wish, alright?" He focused his eyes on one particularly bright star, hands clasped together in front of his chest. "I really, really wish that I wasn't so lonely. I'll be okay as a dead ghost person, as long as I'm not by myself. I won't complain or anything anymore if you'll just give me a friend."
He lowered his hands, blinking quietly as the sound of crickets engulfed him.
Still, there was nothing. It was just a star.
"Serves me right," he sighed, laying down to the ground for what felt like the millionth time. "I should know better by now that even the stars hate me." His eyes drifted closed as he gazed at the gently rippling lake water. At least if he was going to be alone, he'd have the moon to keep him company. His eyes began to drift shut by habit as his mind settled once more.
And then there was a sharp pull from somewhere in his chest.
Pip's eyes flew open again, pushing to sit up. Unlike before, when his chest had felt so attached to his body, it was pulling in a new direction, calling him a new way. That new way, to be specific, was straight towards the middle of Stark's Pond.
Curiously, the boy crawled forward, peering at the water. This was odd… a little whisper in the back of his mind was telling him that this was somehow where he was meant to be. He wasn't sure why, but he was willing to try anything at this point.
"Maybe I just had to get away from that old body," he reasoned, reaching out his hand to the water. "I was still all tied up with it; now I've gotten all tied up with this old lake instead." Unable to help himself, Pip touched his fingertips to the water, letting his hand sink further and further into the moon's reflection. He couldn't feel the ripples on his skin, but the water parted as if he were alive.
"That's odd," Pip said, as if it were a trivial thing. "I do believe the lake thinks I am alive again." He pressed the hand deeper until it became elbow deep, then shoulder deep. His whole body was slipping into the water now, drawn further and further from the comfort of the bank and into what he would have considered danger when he was alive. His whole body except for his head was in the water now, just resting within the waves. They pulled him side to side in a soothing motion. It was safe and comfortable and happy. He kicked his feet against the pressure of the lake, a smile on his face for the first time in a little while. This wasn't so bad!
Without warning, he felt tightness around his ankle and his head disappeared below the waves. Like all good things in his life, the joy was instantly taken from him, and his eyes closed uncontrollably as he was pulled deeper and deeper.
When Pip woke up for the second time, he was equally disoriented. He was lying flat again, floating in a pool of water. However, as his eyes blinked open and his fingers pressed against the surface he was laying on, he swore he could feel the roughness against his palms and the gentle lapping of the water.
And breath- breath in his lungs! He jolted upright, taking a gasping breath. Something was flowing into his body. He wasn't numb at all. His fingers were pressing into something somewhat jagged, like rock. He was hyper aware of the skin on his knees touching together and the way his chest rose and fell with every heave. All around him was red and misty.
His eyes darted to each side as he struggled to readjust to the sensations coursing through his body. The water around him was slowly evaporating, his once wet clothing drying in the light heat. He couldn't quite feel it from where he was sitting, but he knew that it was warm all around him.
He began to take in more of his surroundings, things becoming clear now. He was sitting in some sort of raised basin, the water now gone. This particular place seemed to have a few more basins sitting nearby, also empty.
"Oh my goodness, I've gone to hell!" Pip exclaimed, hands pulling at the fabric of his shirt. Oh god, how he'd missed that wonderful feeling. He squeezed the fabric tightly, trying to soothe his panic.
"Where else would we be?"
A new voice again caught his attention, the familiarity bringing back memories instantaneously. His eyes darted back to the front of the basin. Standing below him was a familiar looking boy with long dark hair and impossibly pale skin. His reddened eyes met Pip's as he stepped closer, hands pressed together in front of him in an anxious fashion.
"What am I doing here…Damien?" Pip asked, cautiously addressing him by name. His suspicions were confirmed when the other boy playfully raised an eyebrow, almost amused at the fact Pip remembered him.
"Well, I heard through the grapevine you died and all that. So. I figured you'd like to see a familiar face." Damien just sort of stared at him from a distance, unmoving now. "Welcome to where I live, I guess."
Pip just stared at him, body still completely in shock at the change in atmosphere. "I… excuse me, but I don't understand."
"You died and so you went to hell," he stressed. "You just got kinda lost on the way here. Happens sometimes." Damien shrugged his shoulders, still fiddling with his fingers. Pip just stared uncomfortably, almost cowering to the far side of the basin.
"Don't act so scared of me," Damien said, his tone too difficult for Pip to pinpoint. "I know I was mean an' all, but that was a while ago. I promise I won't throw a fire ball at you or anything… I'm nine and a half now, I'm totally over that."
Pip wanted to comment that it was only about a year ago and that Damien was still a child, but he kept his mouth shut. "Oh, I see," was all he managed, relaxing slightly. "What an interesting way for that star to grant my wish…"
"Your what?" Damien asked, finally approaching again.
"Nothing," Pip said quickly. Damien had reached him now, extending a hand for him. He hesitantly took it and allowed himself to be led out of the basin, hopping down to the rough ground. Even when his feet were steady though, Damien didn't need to speak to communicate he was not going to let go of hands.
"Hurry up, we've gotta get out of here," Damien said softly, pulling Pip along.
"How come?" Pip shuffled along behind him, allowing him to take the lead. Damien was pulling him further and further from the basins, almost a bit too quickly for him to keep up. He felt like he was about to fall over. "Is something wrong?"
"No," Damien said sharply, looking away and refusing eye contact. "My dad will just be around there soon and I'm not in the mood to talk to him is all, got it?"
"Right-o, Damien," Pip said just as quickly, hoping he hadn't upset him. Sure, Damien was a strange kid; he was the son of Satan and a real troublemaker, but Pip couldn't help but feel grateful that he had someone else to talk to. "I understand what it's like not to want to talk to anyone. Sometimes it's hard, and sometimes you really, really want other people to talk with, even if they make you tell them you want them to punch you or something. Sometimes it's just good to talk, see, even if people will be mean to you."
"You're really weird," Damien scoffed, his tone still rather amused.
Pip's mouth closed tightly, lips pressed close together. He was not weird. He was just being honest. With a frustrated sigh, he continued to hop along beside the other boy, enjoying the warmth of his hand. It had felt like so long since he had felt anything. "How come I can feel things here? When I was…um, lost, as you put it, nothing was there."
"Being up on earth is different than down here," Damien said, voice almost condescending. It made Pip feel like it was common knowledge he was somehow missing out on. "If you're dead, you don't belong on earth anymore, so you aren't going to feel right."
"Does it feel like that to you?" Pip asked curiously, recalling the time Damien had come to their school.
"Feel like what?"
"Numb and empty and bad."
Damien seemed to think for a moment. "Well, not really. I'm not dead like you are. I'm just sort of born here. So I'm half alive, maybe?" He paused again, eyebrows furrowing as he stared at the ground. "Or at least I think so. All I know is that when I go up there, it's not as nice as being down here. I told dad I hate it when he makes me go, but he doesn't listen."
Pip nodded politely, knowing better than to interrupt. "Why does he make you go up there?"
Damien laughed to himself, shaking his head. "Sometimes he gets all 'hey Damien, wouldn't it be nice to spend some time on earth?' and we find a place to stay for a few months. He says it's good for me to 'get out there' and interact with my peers. I don't have any peers though; I'm the son of Satan, it's not like there's anyone else like me."
"Well, it's nice to make friends," Pip said.
"I don't need friends," Damien replied, not meeting his eyes as he continued to pull onward. The grip on Pip's hand, however, seemed to grow tighter.
"Oh." Pip frowned, falling back into silence. Their surroundings were still red and dark and hot, but in the distance there appeared to be some sort of houses. He wasn't sure who would live there though; he hadn't seen a single person walking around on their trip so far. Pip glanced back over at the other boy, hesitant to ask another question. "…Damien?"
"What."
"Well, I was curious… where is everyone? I see houses but nobody to live in them. And I thought hell was where the bad people went, but I don't see people being tortured or anything."
Damien shrugged. "Not everyone who goes to hell is terrible. They just weren't amazing people. So the 'eh' people sometimes don't get tortured. They just kinda go wherever they want. People don't really wander around, though. If you wander around you'll run into my dad, and everyone knows better than to do that."
"I was so certain that I was a good boy when I was alive," Pip sighed.
"Well, nobody's perfect."
Pip again frowned at the comment, but said nothing. He was so disappointed he wasn't going to heaven to be an angel…or whatever happened up there. He'd tried so hard to be good despite how others treated him so maybe he'd have a chance after everything was said and done. It was all for naught now… perhaps Damien was right. He must have made a mistake somewhere down the line to get killed and go to hell so young.
"So… uh…" Damien's colder tone shifted to something just a hint more welcoming. "How'd it happen?"
"Dying?"
"Yeah."
Pip's face scrunched up at the image of his dead body that had resurfaced. "Well," he said as calmly as he could despite his shaking fingers, "I got a bit squished."
"Squished? Like a car? Someone run your ass over?" Damien prodded, intrigued now. His red eyes were lit up, the almost monotone expression he had kept their entire walk disappearing. "How?"
"No, nononono," Pip corrected, waving his free hand. "There was a… a robot. A very large silly robot that came into our town and started to knock things over. I tried to reason with her, honest! But she just wouldn't listen. She wouldn't go away." He flushed, looking the other direction. If he was already in hell, a little lie wouldn't hurt anything. "I tried to stop her heroically but in the process of taking her down, there was an accident." There. Now Damien would be a bit more impressed with him.
The demon boy widened his eyes. "A robot, huh? That's a new one. I never met someone squished by a robot. At first I thought you were just weird, but now I know you're weird and stupid if you got killed so easy." He let go of Pip's hand, smashing his own two together. "Ka-WHAM. Just like that."
Pip grimaced, preferring not to relive what he had been so trying to let go of the last few days. "Ahhhhh, no… not exactly, but I appreciate your enthusiasm and your interest."
"Whatever," Damien replied, eyes rolling. The two of them looked at the house they were now standing in front of. "Looks like we're here."
"Where?" Pip asked before Damien grabbed his arm, pulling him towards the front door.
"This is my house." Damien pulled him right to the door, kicked it open, then walked inside. It was decorated modestly, with unpacked boxes strewn around the living room. "Sorry for the mess. We move all the time because dad doesn't know how to settle. We go to earth, we come back down. We move in with one of his boyfriends, we move back out… so we just kinda keep some stuff in the boxes."
Pip nodded. Foster care was sort of like that. He never knew when he would be moved. He could understand. "Ah… I see. That's alright, I promise I do not mind at all." He was still confused why Damien had insisted on bringing him to his house, but he was willing to roll with it. Spending time with a demon kid he had met once sounded like a much better idea than wandering alone through hell.
"Dad won't be home for a little while," Damien continued. "He goes around making people suffer for most the day, then he comes home. Sometimes if he's in a good mood he'll spend some time with me, but usually…" He trailed off. "Well, now that you're here, that doesn't matter anymore."
"Me?"
"Well, yeah. That's how come I brought you. You're gonna stay with me and we'll play and have fun and be dead and half-dead together and we'll never be lonely or have to go to earth again." He clapped his hands together, a grin on his face. "It's the perfect plan!"
"What?!" Pip gasped, shaking his head. "I don't think it works that way, Damien! What if your father comes home and decides he doesn't like me or want me around? What if I'm supposed to be tortured or something right now? He'll be so cross with you!"
"He's not going to find out," Damien corrected, holding a finger out at him. "Shh, listen, I've got it under control. I'll just hide you when he's home! He doesn't even know you're here in hell right now, he won't even be looking!"
"I don't like this idea," Pip insisted. "It sounds very, very, very bad. I'm sure it will end badly."
"Ughhhh, seriously, it's not," Damien stressed. "Just trust me on this one." Damien's smile flashed a bit wider. "Now, let's go!" Before Pip could try to get in the last word, the demon child grabbed his hand again, pulling him further into his home. They weaved between stacks of boxes and half-unpacked furniture to a small staircase.
"Damien, I'm…please, I'm very serious about this," Pip begged anyway, finding confidence to speak out. "I'm very worried that you'll get in trouble!" He was mostly worried about his own fate if he'd get caught messing around with the devil's son, but he wasn't about to admit that.
"Shut up or I'll blast you with fire," Damien hissed, but there was a lack of integrity in his voice to go along with his threat. "Come on, I'm serious that you'll like it here better than out there on the streets."
Pip swallowed thickly, eyes darting downward. Maybe Damien was right. "Okay, Damien… okay."
The stairs led to a small hallway upstairs. Damien had taken them into one of the bedrooms on the left side, closing the door behind them. It looked surprisingly normal; there was a bed and a dresser and toys strewn across the floor, not unlike any ten year old boy's bedroom on earth.
"I assume this one is yours?" Pip asked, taking it all in. "I always pictured it to be more… evil? Dark and maybe fire everywhere."
"Just 'cause I'm his kid doesn't mean I gotta act like him." Damien crossed his arms before flopping backwards onto his bed. He stared up at the plain ceiling, sighing obnoxiously. "I just like to pretend I'm normal sometimes. Come on, you're weird, you've gotta understand."
Pip frowned, almost angrily. "Stop calling me weird or I'll walk right out of here back down to the street."
"Whatever."
"Ugh." He stepped forward, approaching the bed before flopping onto it in a similar fashion. The two lay side by side, staring at the ceiling. They spent a few moments in silence, feeling almost uncomfortably close to one another.
"Welp. Since you're here now, we might as well do something." Damien sat up, shuffling a bit to the side so he wasn't nearly touching the other boy. He'd never admit it, but his face was a bit red. "I'll go get a game?"
"Sure," Pip muttered, noticing the strange look on his face. He'd never really had anyone look at him like that before. Usually it was anger or some sort of amusement, but not…whatever that was. It confused him.
Damien scrambled off the bed towards the closet, throwing open the door and digging through a pile of dirty clothing (mostly black) and other junk until he pulled out a beaten up version of chutes and ladders. He threw it on the floor next to the bed, almost embarrassed. "Sorry. It's a baby game, but it's all I got."
"I don't mind. I think it's fun," Pip assured him, climbing down to the floor. He opened the box for them, grimacing as the scent hit him. The board looked like it had been charred, and the scent only confirmed it. "My goodness, what did you do to your poor game?"
"I get angry sometimes," Damien replied, refusing eye contact. "If I don't win I used to light it on fire. But I'm nine and a half now, so I don't throw that big of fits."
"You say that an awful lot," Pip commented, setting out all of the pieces onto the barely-readable board. "Just be more careful with your toys or you'll have none left." Pip was always cautious with his things. He had so few when he was alive, he couldn't bear anything happening to them. To see Damien so careless almost hurt him somehow.
The two sat down quietly, taking turns spinning and moving their pieces. It was mostly quiet except for the ticking of the clock on the dresser and the noises from outside of the window and the occasional 'it's your turn now'. Maybe time passed differently in hell, but before they knew it, a few hours had gone by.
Enough time for the front door to click open and heavy footsteps to shake the house.
"Oh fucking shit hell-" Damien gasped under his breath, a look of panic on his face as he gripped at his playing piece. Before Pip could react he had thrown the board aside in rage, scorching the carpet in the process. "Get up, get UP!"
"Aah, goodness!" Pip exclaimed as the demon child moved for him next, grabbing at his shoulders and shoving him forward. He scrambled the best he could to his feet as he was shoved towards the closet.
"Just… fucking hide in there, okay?" Damien demanded, pointing a finger accusingly at him. "Don't you make a peep or I'll burn you to a crisp!"
Pip nodded furiously, eyes wide with fear as Damien slammed the door on him, leaving him alone and in the dark. He swore that somehow his heart was pounding in his chest as he lowered himself to the floor, curling up in a ball beside the mess on the floor. He felt so small and alone now. It reminded him of that time the boys at school locked him in the janitor's closet and called him names until he cried. He pressed his hands over his mouth, trying to keep himself silent as he was instructed to do.
He listened quietly to the noise in the bedroom, trying to decipher what was going on. He could hear Damien moving around and things clinking. He must have been cleaning up their game. There were more footsteps downstairs, getting louder and louder until they were just outside of the room. Then the door squeaked open and they entered.
"Hey buddy."
"Hi dad."
Silence.
"Did you have a good day?"
"Yeah."
More silence. Board game pieces shifted within the box as Damien paced across the floor.
"I'm sorry I'm home so late tonight… I know I promised I'd be home earlier, but there were a lot of new people today and…"
"It's fine." Damien sounded annoyed.
Pip's eyes darted back and forth in the darkness, trying to put the pieces together. Satan was in the room with them. Satan was in the room with them.
"Come on, I'll make it up to you. You've got a game there?"
"No."
"Damien." A pause. "I know you're mad at me. I've been really busy lately… let's just grab something and we'll play now, okay?"
The footsteps began to approach the closet. Damien was saying something in his squeaky voice, but Pip felt like he'd gone deaf from fear. He couldn't hear him. He couldn't hear anything except for the pounding in his chest and the squeak of the closet being thrown open.
"Here, how about- what the fuck?"
Pip's eyes slowly trailed upwards towards the large, red being looking right back down at him. Satan only stared quietly at him, a puzzled look on his face as he took in what he was seeing. Pip could only imagine what he was thinking; he'd just opened his son's closet to find a small dead British boy huddled up on the floor.
"Hello sir," Pip squeaked, forcing a terrified smile. It was the only thing he could think of doing. His hands were shaking. He was so sure that if he was alive, he'd have pissed himself in fear.
Satan slowly looked back up, turning back towards an embarrassed Damien standing just a few feet away. The pale demon had turned completely red.
"Damien… I honestly did not think I was going to have to give you this talk so soon," Satan started, still incredibly baffled. "You know, hiding your boyfriend in the closet-"
"DAD!" Damien screeched, throwing himself face first on the bed and burying himself into a pillow. "HOLY HELL THAT'S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE!"
"S-s-sir, please," Pip stuttered, trying to get his attention again. "Don't be cross with Damien, he really didn't mean anything naughty about it. He was just lonely, see, and I just sort of showed up in hell and he wanted a friend, so he brought me home! It's nothing bad at all!"
Damien was screaming nonsense into the pillow now.
"Just showed up?" Satan asked quietly, tilting his head. "Damien, who is this? Where did you find him? I haven't seen this boy yet."
Damien kept screaming.
"P-Pip Pirrup, sir," Pip squeaked again, standing up off the floor. "That's my name. Damien said I was a lost soul and then I ended up in hell in this bathtub thing-"
"PIP SHUT UP!" Damien shouted, lifting his head from the pillow.
"Damien," Satan scolded, but he continued to look at Pip. "Pip, huh? As in the Pip my Damien won't stop talking about since our last earth visit?"
"DAD!"
Pip flushed in embarrassment, suddenly uncomfortable. Damien remembered him? He really, really remembered him? And talked about him?
"Boys… please excuse me for a moment," Satan muttered, walking out of the room, still looking confused.
As soon as he was gone, Damien practically burst into flames. "PIP, YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!" he shouted, leaping off the bed and sending a ball of fire hurling at the wall.
"Damien!" Pip gasped, jumping backwards. "Calm down!"
"No! I can't!" he continued, throwing another at the opposite wall. The carpet was smoking under his feet, his face bright red in rage. "Now my dad's gonna go look for your name in the registry and he's not gonna find you because I LIED. I told you that you're supposed to go to hell but I LIED."
"Damien, what do you mean?"
Damien dropped to the floor, hands against his face as his anger turned to tears. The smoke died down, the fire subsided. "I found out you died and instead of letting you go to heaven like you were s'posed to, I summoned you to hell even though I'm not allowed to do that…"
Pip felt his own tears spring to his eyes. It felt like he'd just been stabbed. Damien had lied? He really was a good boy after all? He wasn't sure how to take it all in.
"Pip, I'm sorry," Damien begged, but he wasn't having any of it. He'd just died and instead of finding happily ever after, he'd been cheated into being the devil's son's playmate. With a sob of frustration, Pip darted out of the bedroom, eyes searching for somewhere to go. Much like he had in his foster home, the bathroom became his sanctuary as he hurried inside and locked the door behind himself.
Damien cried his name outside of the door, but he didn't listen. Instead he curled up on the floor in a little ball and cried.
This wasn't fair. Why would Damien do this to him? The last few days had been so traumatic. He'd been alone and afraid and dead. Maybe things could have been better if he'd been able to go to heaven and be happy, but instead… hell. That boy had some nerve bringing him down here. He was so selfish.
Pip paused, wiping at his eyes. "I shouldn't have made that stupid wish," he whimpered. Sure, all he'd wanted was a friend, and Damien had been pretty kind to him while he was there, and…
His mind wandered back to just hours ago when they'd been sitting on his bed together and that strange look he'd given him. Maybe Damien had acted selfishly, but his heart was in the right place. Maybe.
"Pirrup?"
Pip sat up a bit, attention turned to the door. Satan had called his name. "Yes sir?" he whispered, voice barely audible.
"I'm sorry for all of this. It's not really something I'm used to having happen but… I'll leave the choice up to you. I just phoned... uh… up there. And if you want, we'll send you up."
Pip could hear Damien crying on the other side of the door, but he told himself to ignore it. "Yeah," he said, standing up and unlocking the door. "Take me."
Damien met his eyes, scowling. Pip couldn't quite decipher what expression was on his face.
"Alright," Satan said, sighing. "I can't believe this… In all these years, I've never had a mix-up until today." He extended an arm to the small boy, leading him out of the bathroom and down the stairs and out the door. Damien trailed quietly behind, almost begrudgingly.
Pip watched the scenery shift in silence as they walked. They were backtracking the way they'd came, exiting the neighborhood and trekking across the rocky landscape until they approached the basins of water.
"Here we go," Satan said, gesturing. "Just climb in and this will be all over."
Damien stepped forward again, placing a hand onto Pip's shoulder. "Can I just say somethin' first?" he asked softly.
Pip turned, a sad expression on his face. It was hard, but he allowed him to talk.
"I know I fucked up, but… I just…" Damien looked down, stuttering. "I-I guess I just… I just missed you. You weren't that bad up on earth. You actually talked to me. You didn't seem to care if I was half-dead or whatever. Maybe I kinda…"
"Kinda what?" Pip prodded, confused.
Damien leaned in closer, whispering now. "Kinda liked you. A lot. Not like my dad but you know." Damien crossed his arms defensively. "Not like my dad. But kinda."
Pip's expression softened as he stared at him.
"Pip, you ready?" Satan asked again.
"I have to go," Pip said, voice wavering. His arms crossed protectively across his chest, entire body curling in upon itself. He felt numb as he stepped forward, eyes hazily trained on the basin.
Damien liked him. Like… maybe loved him.
His foot hovered above the basin, hesitating to step inside.
Damien loved him.
He retracted his foot, standing quietly at the edge of the basin. A tear trickled down his cheek and fell inside, splattering against the hot rocks. For the first time in his life, he felt like someone actually cared. Damien hadn't dragged him down to hell to hurt him; he'd wanted him around. He didn't want him to be alone.
"I think I change my mind," Pip said shakily, turning back.
"Have you?" Satan asked, surprised.
"Yeah." He stepped back down, walking towards Damien. "Even if I go to heaven and be an angel- or whatever happens up there- I think I'd be awful lonely." He closed his eyes, taking a small breath. "And… I did wish that I wanted a friend."
Damien just stared at him, his face flushed red again as Pip approached.
"Maybe… more than a friend?" Damien whispered, eyes wide.
"Maybe," Pip whispered back, a small smile creeping onto his face. He extended his arms and the two came together, hugging tightly.
Maybe being dead wouldn't be so bad after all.