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Treacherous Mouth

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 You don’t know why it happened, but it did. Maybe it was because you were both alone in your room, for once none of the demon brothers were coming in like they owned the place, which they actually did, but this isn’t about them. It may have been because he was laying on your bed, reading one of your many books, and the light that comes from above was illuminating him just right. And seeing him from the floor, with your head lying on your arms on top of the end of the bed as he read out loud, made you slip. 

 It comes out of nowhere, punched out of you by an imaginary fist made of all the words you refuse to let out, leaving you with a mind full of thoughts that fight between themselves to be the one to shame you.

“May I paint you?” Stupid, foolish, there is no word on the dictionary to describe how brain dead this idea of yours is. You can’t even look at the angel, he must be as surprised by your stupidity as you are.

“I didn’t know you could paint.” is all he says. 

“I don’t… actually” you can’t lie to him, and even if you did, and in the completely impossible escenario in which he agrees, what would you even do? Draw a stick figure and let the earth swallow you alive? You want the ground to do that now as you hide your face in your arms. 

 The silence is killing you, but you are not ready for him to talk. You can’t look at his face either, you won’t let yourself see the expression he is making. Surprised? Disappointed? Amused? They would all hurt the same. A single hum is all you hear.

“If you want to spend time with me, you just need to ask.”

 Lord, why is he so kind? Too kind for his own good, if he is able to submit himself to this mess of a situation and doesn’t just leave.

“I know…” you mumble, rubbing your arm like that can get rid of the shame.

“Could it be that you wanted to ask something else?”

“Maybe…”

 He sighs before speaking again:

“MC, please look at me.”

 The pleading tone in his voice is enough to make you push through your feelings and look at him. A knot forms inside your throat when you see his expression, so open, like he is bearing his heart to you, wanting to be trusted. And god, you do, but that sight makes your heart clench and your eyes dart away. You hide your face between your arms again, making him sigh.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” you nod, unable to talk through the knot inside your throat “And you know that you can ask me anything.” another nod.

 Again, silence. You try to focus on your breathing, on the darkness that surrounds you, on how your arched back is starting to hurt, or the joint of your legs from being on an awkward position on the floor for so long. Anything but the sensation of Simeon’s eyes on you, and all the possible emotions they could show, too many to count and decide in the inner chamber built by your guilt which one would hurt you the least.

 You can hear the sound of your sheets shifting and you think: that’s it. Simeon is merciful enough to leave your room without saying a thing, going back to Purgatory Hall and maybe only talking to you through text messages for the rest of your stay here. And then you are going to go back to the human world and you will know nothing about him, never again will you see his radiant smile, or hear his calming voice, or get to talk to him about your mutual interests, or hell just talk about the weather. All of that, gone in an instant, because-

 The sudden feeling of something touching your hand makes you jump, your head snapping up to see Simeon had gotten closer to you and is now touching your hand with his. His smile reaches his eyes, and you feel his calm like it’s your own. 

“You don’t have to answer now.” he says as he embelops your hand, squeezing it gently “Just know that when you are ready, I’ll be here.”

 You swallow and nod, moving your eyes around your room, feeling his thumb caressing your skin, the gesture alone making you blush. He is just too good, but isn’t that part of why you love him? He chuckles, and you hear the beginning of what could have been the start of a sentence, but he is interrupted by the notification sound of his phone. 

 The single pling is enough to break you out of your embarrassed state, or at least enough for your eyes to stop avoiding him and see Simeon look at his phone. 

“As much as I would love to stay, it’s getting late. I should go back to Purgatory Hall.”

 You nod as you stand up, walking him to your door. He steps into the hallway, and before you could close the door or say anything, he takes your hand in his.

“I mean it, you know.” he says, a determined yet warm expression on his face “I will listen to what you have to say.”  he looks relieved as you nod, going back to his pleased smile. 

 He raises your hand to his mouth, his lips touching your skin with such care, like it could break under them with just the smallest pressure. You  feel like you're melting, slipping between his fingers until you are a puddle on the floor. The tingling sensation that courses through your body from that single spot makes you jolt in place, but you don’t pull away. You use every little bit of strength you have to not follow him when he pulls back, your skin missing the contact, screaming to get it back and drown on it. 

“Good night, MC.” he says before disappearing down the hallway, like he didn’t just kiss your hand goodbye, leaving your brain on a loop and your heart swelling with hope.