Kurt turned to his side; sweat clung to his undershirt and boxers. It was like this all to frequently, lately. He'd try for hours to go to sleep, only to have it driven away by a terrible loneliness.
"No one, no one would ever..." he mumbled to himself. No one would ever want him for their own. No one's arms would embrace his freakish blue body. No one would caress his demonic ears with soft affirmation of affection. Who would stare into his sickly yellow eyes? Who but God? Always with his staring, mocking and disapproval.
"This is the way I am!" Kurt breathed desperate into his pillow. "This is the way you made me!" His words of anger focused at God. How could one so loving make him into something so shameful? Was he cast from the eyes of God? Was the demon to look for other solace for his soul? No, Kurt could not totally abandon his faith.
"Because – without it I - ..." without it he wouldn't be alive. Without the unwavering and painful belief that the sun would rise some day, Kurt would have teleported himself into a concrete wall long ago. But he could not solve the conflict in his mind. Was he going to have to choose between loving man and loving god?