Spoilers: All of Season 1 and 2
Warnings: character death, language, mindgames.
A/N: Betaread by exbex. Quote by Dante Alighieri.
Xaphan
The demon who stokes the furnaces of Hell.
"From a little spark may burst a flame"
The worst demon is the one you know. Jim expects he's ever the devil to everyone else he shows his true face to, but inside his own mind, the devil is the doubt. He had a heart once, of a sort. He had connections, dreary obligations to people who demanded he get out of bed and do something no matter how boring life became.
Demands are funny things though, when you leave them open to interpretation. They wanted him anywhere but where he was and doing what he was, a still nothingness disturbingly like death, they just didn't know precisely where else and what else they didn't want.
He was in their house, their home and that came with a special level of trust, reserved for precious blood relatives – the kind you don't consider, naively given. It was never his house, til that day, and he makes sure nowhere is his home. It came the closest out of all his haunts, he remembers it fondly - has the crime scene photos saved away in a safety deposit box for nostalgic rainy days.
Jim Moriarty loves – loves his suits, loves to drive fast, loves Shepherd's pie, love to watch TV, loves to watch people. He loves thoughts that flow and actions that come fast. He loves too, to wait, to let it build up, the satisfaction welling into a crescendo.
But Jim doesn't love people anymore, if he ever really had. He loves transient things, knows they come to an end and tends to welcome it. He likes to feel out of control sometimes, breath stolen away with a touch of shock and frustration – a taste of deprivation - and other times, increasingly this, he likes to be the one crushing hopes and dreams; the one responsible.
He burns what he adores, he burns what others want and cherish, he burns it all indiscriminately in the end and there is no doubt. It's the way it is, the way he works. Everyone else is wrong, foolishly clinging to pieces of their lives, not understanding they can only hold on for so long. He'll pry their fingers, pressing sweet kisses along them and they won't realise until it's too late, a crack appeared, a smile where there shouldn't be.