Mephisto,

You knew this was gonna happen. You fucking knew this was going to happen. It was his first mission. His first fucking mission and you send us on this hopeless case. You know how this shit works. You know how that poison spreads and there was no fucking way to save him. You made me

I had to tell him to shoot. I made Yukio shoot someone in the head.

You knew you fucking knew you ALWAYS know. What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck is your aim? What am I doing to him? This is your fault. This is all your fault. You should've told me to kill them. You should've made me kill them. That would be better than this. Better than this shit of a life I'm dragging Yukio into. He's gonna become me. And this is all your fault.

Why am I even writing this? You don't give a fuck, do you? You don't care. You never cared. That shit is foreign to you. As much as you say you love humans, you sure like playing with us a lot, don't you. You're a monster and a demon and I hate you. I hate you so fucking much.

What is it gonna take to instill some guilt in you? Do you even know how what that is? Do you know what you've done to me? Of course you do. You know everything. You expected this. You wanted this.

Get away from me. Get away from my kids. Stop making me say this shit. Stop making me feel these kinds of things. If you're going to be in my life, in my kids' lives, don't

Just stop

I don't want this anymore. I regret so much. I regret ever walking into your office. I regret every fucking touch and every fucking kiss. I regret ever listening to anything you've ever told me. I regret becoming an exorcist. I regret getting out of bed. I regret going into yours. I regret everything. I don't want you anymore.

I hate this. Leave him alone. Leave my kids alone.

Forever Yours,

Shiro

Mephisto's eyes slowly glanced away from the letter he had been reading to silently observe the man in front of him. Shiro was currently passed out in his room at the monastery, slouched over uncomfortably over his desk. There was a stench of alcohol that clung to his clothes and his breath, and his glasses seemed to be pressing painfully into his face.

Mephisto did nothing but stare at the priest for a long, long moment. The room was quiet save for the heavy breaths coming from the unconscious man and the low hum of the AC. This late into the night, there was no one else awake in the monastery. Mephisto had taken advantage of that to slip inside; to check in on his little brothers as well as to check in on the man he'd slowly dug his claws into over the past twenty years.

Nineteen, Mephisto corrected himself with a small tug of his lips as he smoothly folded over the letter he had pried from Shiro's fingers. After slipping it into his pocket, Mephisto reached forward, ignoring the empty cans of beer that littered both the desk and the floor. He began to gently drag the priest into his bed.

Once he was done, Mephisto stepped back and gave the room one last glance. A small, wrinkled stack of papers remained on Shiro's desk, still damp in the places that the man had drooled over in his sleep. There was a distinctive snapping sound, and in the next moment, the desk had been cleared of both the stack and of the pen Shiro had been using to write. Satisfied, Mephisto's gaze returned to the bed, to the familiar image of Shiro's slumbering face.

When the demon exited the room, he left as quietly as he had entered, unnoticed, leaving no evidence that he had been there at all, or that Shiro had done anything other than drink himself to sleep.