A demon was not meant to fall for a human, a mere mortal being.
He was a nameless creature spawned from the very depths of Hell, a place that struck fear in the hearts of mortal men.
A overwhelmingly powerful being made of black glossy feathers, ruby red eyes, fangs, and skin as pale as the dead. He was not meant to love, Michaelis did not love.
And he didn't, at first he didn't.
When he had been called into the mortal world at the request of a twelve year old boy he hadn't loved, he had been heavily amused.
The young boy locked up in his cage, his wide blue eyes with their fading innocence, his dirty skin, frail frame, and dirty blue hair. He had been so weak and so desperate and so young that had been a tad bit surprising. He was used to the desperation of men, not of children; honestly he just didn't want to take care of a child. Children can be so frustrating, stubborn, filthy, and ignorant to everything including themselves. Yet this child denied God, he denied the music of angels, and called out the name of the Devil.
What mere child does that?
Oh the determination for revenge had been stunning, addictive.
That was why he took the young boy's offer and at first he had regretted it deeply.
Somehow though that young brat turned to a young man.
A frail asthmatic boy of thirteen; yet he held so much power and so much hatred, so much passion.
A demon was to not love a demon and Michaelis refused to love or care for one.
He repeated that in his mind every time that some event or moment occurred to caused him to question this personal moral.
When the boy had had his first asthma attack it had actually frightened him, not because he feared he'd lose his dinner, but because he feared he would lose him. The fear had been fleeting, a lapse in judgment.
Love was a word used amongst weak minded mortals, fragile beings.
Yet somehow he was falling deep inside of it, inside of the never ending rabbit hole.
He had even confessed this feeling to the boy only to be rejected, insulted, and hit across the face.
It had hurt, at one time, or with any other mortal he would have ripped the human boy's heart out of his chest for that. For making him feel, for making him look a fool, but he couldn't.
He wouldn't.
He had been killed by reapers, demons, and angels all for this mere mortal being.
A fragile teenage boy, a boy who couldn't let go, or learn to relax.
Michaelis did not want to love a human, but there was nothing much he could do for that.
He loved a mere mortal who did not love him in return.
