ok so this is kinda different bc I never actually put names in until the very end but it's pretty easy to figure out what's happening when there are these great things called tags
He was standing alone in a vast expanse of whiteness, like how the inside of a cloud might feel, but less wet. There seemed to be no up or down, and he wasn't sure there was actually a ground to stand on. He floated peacefully in this place, this whatever-it-was. It couldn't be heaven. There was no heaven for him. So then where? It seemed like every other person's interpretation of what they wanted heaven to be.
The atmosphere was warm. There was a soft breeze, but his hair and clothes were untouched by it.
He thought he could hear whispers. A message from the dead, perhaps? He yearned to know what was being told to him, he was sure it was important. But every time he tried to focus on what they were saying, the murmuring would cease and he would wonder of they were ever there in the first place.
Then he was staring into two oceans, which had appeared suddenly and without warning, and looking into them felt so right he wondered how long they had been there. Time seemed meaningless. It was a thing of earth, which he had long since abandoned. The water sparkled in the light. Come, it seemed to say. Fill your lungs, your heart. There's plenty.
He walked toward it, wishing it would swallow him up. But he found he could not move. He would have given anything to feel the cool fresh water on his skin.
Laughter rang out from around him. Mocking, disgracing. The oceans shrunk until he could see that they were just eyes. The eyes of an angel. For surely this spirit was an angel. With hair darker than night, skin tan and smooth. The spirit smiled at him, but he saw something awry in that smile. It was different, not pure and welcoming. More like a predator deceiving its prey, luring it closer.
The gleam in the spirit's eye was attractive, and it felt like the two of them were sharing a secret that would make others jealous, make them wish they were as fortunate to be noticed by this spirit so beautiful.
He had to get closer, close until the spirit's lips were under his own, his fingers twisted in the wavy black locks. He knew it wouldn't be gentle. Good. He didn't want it to be. He could imagine the spirit's energy, filling his veins with water so cold it was like fire.
He could see it so clearly in his mind, but found he still wasn't able to move, and he became frustrated. He willed his body to move, for something to work right. It was unfair. But as much as he tried to force himself, his body refused to be freed. He held out his hand to the spirit (for that much he could do), but the spirit didn't seem to understand what he wanted.
His voice too was gone. He figured that, even if he could talk, it wouldn't do much good anyway. The spirit might not speak English, instead communicating in the language of higher beings, a language that no mortal could hope to know. He stretched his arms farther out, begging the spirit to take his hands and lead him away to where he was meant to be.
Just when it looked like the spirit was about to do something, a brilliant sun rose, illuminating the spirit and giving it a halo of fire. The spirit turned to watch the sun rise above the clouds. The spirit glanced back at him briefly, then stared down below them. Making a decision, he finally realized.
The spirit's choice did not involve him. It turned and flew into the light of the sun, departing from him forever. But before the spirit disappeared, he saw something on the spirit's back that made his blood run cold.
The spirit had huge, back wings protruding from white robes. The angel was a demon. It was so easy to see, why hadn't he noticed? It was wrong. But he still loved the demon with everything he had, and he would love him for the rest of his life. Tears fell down his cheeks and he found that his body remembered how to scream, and he let out a cry of agony as the light surrounded him until it was so hot he thought he would die.
Bianca shook him awake. "Come on," she said to him. "You need to get up. There's someone here for us."
"For us?" he asked. That didn't make sense, They didn't have any family or friends, as far as he knew. "Who is he?"
Bianca looked nervous, her eyes flitting around the room, partially shaded by the green cap she always wore. "A lawyer. I think father sent him. He's come to take us to a school, Nico."
I realize this means that Nico is eleven in this chapter but just roll with it