And in front of him, Bolt knelt. Why, Yuu wanted to ask?
Why? Like Bolt didn’t know he faced a creature of hell. Why, like there was only one way this could go now, and whether Yuu struggled against it or not, whether he embraced it or not, whether he fought against the angry reach of the blood in him, grasping angrily at the one Bolt’s body hid or he didn’t hate this, didn’t mind this, didn’t even appear to perceive the man’s presence outside of how the God knelt him, the most pious man on Earth you’d guess with the glued contact of his knees against the ground like they were a mother and her child.
Like whether it was this or that, it didn’t matter in the face of the only possible conclusion this could have: the death of an angel. And Yuu felt, perhaps, even if just for a brief moment.
An acute sense of fear he’d act to kill this man.
It’s native to me.
Demons being demons. He’d heard that maybe in hell. Justin's words echoed in his head.
You always have a choice.
Yuu lowered his head.
Struggle. His was shouted. A one-sided screaming match with the man up in there. The clouds were his home, was believed. Yuu almost teleported himself to heaven. He’d walk through its gates and burn as they all stared, a crispy and obdurate fuck you to the man. Because fuck you, because why let him on a holy ground, why stay a hand from causing gratuitous pain, why sabotage everything that had earned him the title that Yuu had never worn with a speck of pride, never treasured and never confessed to owning sans to his kin?
The Legionnaire. One of the strongest. He compelled armies. He could have summoned a million demons here and now and killed every human life.
Why?, then did God stay his hand, why?, then did it matter whether Yuu committed another horrid act? A stabbed abdomen or a stabbed head of this or another man, he would honor the blood in his veins, and that chunk of Devil married to his head.
He was a demon.
And he was a monster that resembled man.
It was like a whisper of a man who’d shouted his voice hoarse.
Why, really, did this man hug him, why did he attempt, why did he forgive? Why and oh all the why’s, why did the presence of the God lessen now? Why did it slip away, so light his body now. Why did it drop, gone, certain he’d not strike against Bolt--
He put his hand on the man’s abdomen as he had before. So close to ripping through, so close to wetting his palm in the man’s bowels--
And yet just staring Bolton in the eye with a sense of defeat.
Yuu’s hand dropped.
You always have a choice.
I've had one forever.
He was silent.
Looking down, he uttered, “Let me go” his tone small, and yet the order in it unquestionable.
He stood up, then. And stood on these long, long two legs, looking down at the angel until he decided to stand as well. They’d stand there, then, a demon and an angel and the shining presence of God crawling along Yuu’s skin like a very warm hand. He didn’t say anything. Defeated, perhaps, he just stared at the man, visibly struggling to enhance his eyes with a lick of the hate that he just didn’t have. He just made a face of disgust and sadness.
And then, like that and in his damned puff of smoke and the smell of sulfur--
He teleported away.