Grell was gone. The demon wasn't sure for how long.
The dark haired man forgot to count the days he'd be alone now.
He'd been raging, killing various people without any reason, always leaving their souls so some reaper had to come and get them.
It never was the one he hoped to appear before his red glowing eyes.
Lurking in the shadows he didn't wait for the flamboyant reaper with hunger or desire like he used to, but angriness and hatred.
He felt hurt. His hand grabbed the shirt he was wearing, clenching the bloodstained fabric above his chest between his claws.
Heartache…?
He wasn't even sure if demons possessed something similar to a human heart.
It was never necessary to actually know the exact anatomical structures he'd got.
But now he felt like he should begin to wonder what part of his body was able to hurt without any significant signs of wounds or something else that would explain this feeling.
Feeling? How absurd.
He'd never felt.
Never loved.
Never wanted to love.
Never feared this pain he now experiences after losing the one he had, obviously, uninhibitedly loved.
Love truly was the uglier demon at the moment.
(And he was nothing but the pitiful contractor.)