Rating: T for Damien's swearing and adult themes.
Pairing[s]: Damien + Pip.
Disclaimer[s]: South Park belongs to Matt Stone and Trey Parker.
Author's Thoughts 3: Remember when, in the last chapter, I said I would have something big planned? I actually didn't have anything big planned, which is why this took so long to put out. I was fuck-out-of-luck for ideas, especially for something exciting. And besides, who puts something exciting in chapter THREE? Some people do. But I don't. I like to pace my stories, or, try to. But, there is SOMETHING in this chapter. I themed it off conversations with parents, so both parties are talking to parental figures about their issues!
And, GUESS WHAT? IT'S NOT 3,000 WORDS! I LIED! AGAIN!
I know. I just got a new RP partner for Dip, so I was inspired, but I couldn't make this theme fit into 3,000 words. If anyone has ideas for plot, please send me a message, I'll credit you...
Anyway, enjoy. It's sad.
"Damien, my son, you've barely left your room today, what's wrong?" Satan asks, deep and commanding voice sounding soft and concerned. Damien looks up from his position on the couch, curly hair pushed out of his completely straight face.
"Nothing, Dad," he sighs before looking back to the TV.
"I think something is wrong...would you prefer to talk to Chris?"
"No, I don't want to talk to Chris! There's nothing wrong," Damien grunts as Satan takes a seat next to his disheveled son.
"Okay, can we talk about something else, then?" Satan asks. Damien growls, turning off the TV and disregarding the remote.
"What do you really want, Dad?"
"I've barely seen you around Hell, Damien," Satan says slowly, voice getting stiffer, "where have you been? You know how I feel about you spending time up on Earth during your maturing stage."
Damien pauses, looking at his father's slightly condescending gaze. "I've been here, you obviously aren't very good at finding me." Damien lies coldly. Satan obviously doesn't buy it.
"Look, Dami,"
"Don't call me that," Damien interrupts quickly.
"Right...Damien, you know you can tell me anything," Satan says with his hands on his knees, trying to be as gentle as possible. Damien sighs, staring at the blank TV screen, anything to avoid his father's eyes.
He thinks about Pip, his gentle smile, how easy he is to toy with. His wide, innocent, blue eyes, his silly style and his selflessness. He refused to picture a day he would have to go locked away from all of that. Who would he tease?
"I'm not lying to you, father," Damien mutters through clenched teeth, "I haven't been going up on Earth. There's nothing on Earth that I can't get from here."
"I know how lonely you get..." Satan says sadly, making Damien's muscles stiff. He hated being reminded of his sadness—demons weren't supposed to feel anything even along the lines of that, and he lived a life of shutting those things out.
"I don't get lonely, father. Go away."
"Look, it's okay, maybe I can bring some of your friends down here for a few hours—"
"Get. Away. From. Me."
Satan sighs softly and stands up, walking away from the couch in defeat. Damien doesn't move until he's gone, slouching back into the cushions and turning the TV back on for a distraction. But he couldn't deny the throbbing numbness in his chest; the dangerous feeling of loneliness.
It's not fair! Damien is half-human, forced to feel things like this, when all he wants to do is be a demon. There's nothing up there for him in the human world, nothing but emotions and meaningless chit-chat.
"Don't kid yourself," Damien scoffs to himself. He knows he can't avoid what he really wants. Ever since his human emotions kicked in, he's forgot about his ambitions towards being a demon. His life revolves around a war inside himself.
He wants to be a human, lead a human life. But he wants to be a demon and have a demon life. There's no in between and the two sides refuse to settle on a compromise; the closest he'll get to a compromise is the lying he's doing right now. But it's never safe to lie to his father, and eventually, soon, Satan will figure it out.
'Well what the fuck am I supposed to do about it?' Damien scolds himself mentally, sinking lower into the couch, his strong grip making the remote snap in half. 'It's my body. It's my mind. I should be able to decide what I want to do without having all of these...these...drawbacks! I want to just forget about being human! But...no, yes, no...fuck!'
"Dad?"
"Yes, Damien?"
"Can...can I ask you something?"
The two little headstones are neatly set aside from the other graves, in the very far corner of the yard. Nobody noticed, nobody cared; besides, who would visit them other than their beloved son?
Nobody did tell little Phillip what happened to his parents. He can vaguely remember someone saying they left him because he was a failure or a disgrace, something along the lines of that. But he knew now, not that if mattered.
"Hello," Pip says quietly, taking a seat on the damp grass after setting a towel down in front of the graves. He smiles softly at the names etched in stone; the most intimate knowledge he'll ever have of them. He wishes nothing more than to remember their faces, but they died when he was too young to remember. "I've got some very important news for you today!"
Pip waits a few seconds, as if expecting a response, but being fully aware he'll never have one. "Damien—you remember him, don't you?—has been spending time with me for the past few days. Now, I know you may not be that approving of him, considering what he did to me when we were children," he pauses again. "but he's changed. He's treating me...better! Better than most do."
There's silence. It's so quiet, Pip swears he can hear the snow falling next to him, slowly stacking up a blanket of serenity.
"But...I do have some concerns," Pip mutters, "probably the same concerns you have about him yourself. Sure, he's more kind to me, but he's still...still...scary. Dangerous, even. I just don't know if it's right to be around him! I mean, he could really hurt me, and he doesn't seem to be against the idea! But, he's my only friend, if I can even consider him a friend."
Pip stops talking to smile and reach out towards the headstones. He traces his finger in the damp, freezing stones, following the lines of his mother's etched name. She was probably beautiful; with a plump, warm body, long blonde hair and the most striking blue eyes. She must have loved Pip very, very much. He holds the side of the headstone and imagines his hand cupping the side of his mother's cheek, sitting in complete silence.
His eyes dart to the other headstone; it seems a bit older, with a chip in the side. Perhaps his father was like this; a tall, stocky man with wrinkles and short brown hair, maybe even green eyes. He probably planned on teaching Pip all types of discipline and the proper way to treat a woman, whereas his mother would teach him kindness and manners.
Pip taught himself.
"It's...been nice talking to you two again. I think I've solved my problem, though." Pip says quietly while letting his hand drift off the side of his mother's headstone. "I...I love you both. Have a nice evening."
Pip stands up slowly, leaving the blanket there in the snow, turning away fast and walking out of the graveyard. He doesn't turn back after sliding through the black, rusted gate, and only takes a breath once the yard is out of reach.
"Pip?" a voice calls out to him from a little ways away on the sidewalk in front of him. Pip looks up through bleary eyes, making eye contact with a tall, black-haired teenager, staring at him curiously.
"Ah, Damien, are you okay?"
"Why would you ask that?"
"It's the...polite thing to do," he says after a short breath. Damien briefly vanishes and appears closer to Pip, filling his nostrils with the sharp stench of smoke.
"I'm fine, are you?"
"Not...not really."
Damien hesitates, pulling on his turtleneck collar. "Err...alright," he says carefully, Pip staring at him with pleading, lonely eyes. "I'm going to go home the—"
The Antichrist stops talking abruptly when Pip throws his hands around him, leaning his face into the warm fabric of his dark shirt. Damien lifts his arms up to his sides in surprise, eyes wide and lips pursed. What does he expect me to do? Hold him?
He slowly, slowly lowers his arms around Pip's back, patting just below his head. "Ah...it's okay?"
Pip lets out a small laugh that doesn't stray very far away from a sob. "You don't have to say anything, or even hold me. Just don't burn me." he says shakily.
And with that, Damien holds him just a little tighter. "No promises," he says with a deep, threatening rumble.