I've been living with Eli in a low-rent apartment that totally smells like pot and weirder plants - no surprise there, not really. Weird Archangel. It's not in the best part of the city. I asked him once, why here, and he told me to be quiet and listen. Couldn't hear anything beyond the rap some kids were belting out at each other. He told me - that's what I'm supposed to listen to. Creation.

It's dingy, though, sure no place for a normal Archangel, but Eli's nowhere near norma - I can't imagine any of the Princes making themselves tuna sandwiches and putting in way too much mayo, then leaving it in the fridge until it gets mouldy anyway. Stinking the place up, and, like, I went to throw it out, but Eli told me not to, it wasn't mouldy enough yet.

I don't really get him, but I don't mind too much.

I did ask him, though, if I should find myself being this lonely for Hell. He said, sure. It's home. It's where I was made, where everyone I grew up with was, and even if it wasn't where I belonged, it's where all the folks I know are.

It's where Andre is, too, which we didn't say.

So, like, Eli goes out a lot - with women, with men, with people I think might be other angels, or just out wandering with a harmonica in his pocket and a can've spraypaint in his bag. I stay in, mostly - I've probably pissed off a lot of Princes (Dad, Andre) by leaving, and with my luck, they'd know me now when they came across me. If.

It got kind of lonely sometimes, and then Eli picked me up a kitten.

The kitten's fur's all honey-gold and his eyes totally black, which is kinda weird, and he's got a thin gold chain about its neck. Eli says that it was straying, though its fur's shiny and smooth and it seems healthy enough - but Eli knows these things, so it must have strayed.

The kitten is angry when Eli pops in, carrying it by the skin of its neck. "Heya, Rex. Look what I found, skulking around."

"Aww, cute!" I say, and the kitten stops struggling, hangs limp, looking a little sulky but still totally a pretty little thing.

"OH yes," Eli says and grins a bit. "I brought it in for you. I figured you'd love it."

"Love it already," I say, which's true - something about the eyes is kinda sad - and I hold my hands out for it.

He drops it into them. "Careful. Even cute little kittens have sharp teeth and claws. Don't let it hurt you."

"Right," I say, grinning a little, because the kitten isn't trying to - it eyes me, then licks its right shoulder furiously.

"Don't let it get out," Eli says. "And keep its collar on."

I nod and stroke the kitten's head, scritching. It looks at me and, expression utterly longsuffering, purrs just a little. "Sure."

Eli throws himself into a chair and just watches for a bit, while I plop it in my lap and stroke it from head to tail. It gives in, lays down and purrs, though it doesn't shut its eyes, watching me kinda suspiciously.

"He must be scared," I say. "Poor little guy. S'a big tough world out there, innit?" I tweak its ears and it bats at my finger, clearly warning me of what it could do if it tries.

Eli says, "I think you might be right."

"What should I call him?" I ask. Eli's a Mercurian, he should know.

"Whatever you want to," Eli says, and so I call it 'kitten', because I won't give it a name I don't know is true.

Eli's at home a lot for the next little while and Kitten avoids him - maybe he doesn't like the way Eli smells. Though I totally smell as much of pot as him, at least I bathe regularly. But who am I to complain? Kitten gets into everything - I've dug him out from the bedsheets too many times, or couch cushions, found him on the table, tried to get him out from under the bed . Kitten doesn't ever come when called - it's got an ego at least as large as most Balseraphs' and obviously thinks it's in charge. It's kind of cute, really.

"Eli?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you been changing the litter?" I haven't found any nuggets.

"Don't worry 'bout it."

Most of all, Kitten's watching me all the time. As I listen to music or doodle (badly, but Eli says I'll get better) on some of the piles of scrap paper that seem to be hanging round the house. Whenever I look up, Kitten's sitting nearby, crouched, tail lashing away, watching me with dark eyes.

It's kind of nice, really.

I have.... fits, I guess. I don't exactly mean to - I'll be fine, and then something will mention the human media and I'll think of Dad and feel alone, missing him even though I don't want to. I still love him, even though... everything. Sometimes it hits me so hard and I just put my head down and cry. Just cry, man. Didn't want to, but Eli tells me it's okay. It helps, sometimes. Sometimes... not.

Thinking 'bout Andre's worse. It's like everything reminds me of him. Books or pictures or whatever. Hearing people call each other 'beautiful' (Something, of course, heard a lot in Eli's apartment)... and I just think of the way he smells or his salt taste or what sometimes seemed like miles of hair, or the sight of full lips turning into a really nice smile, and I hurt, like getting stabbed, because I love him so much that it burns, and it's good to have Kitten around at these times, because he's watching and I'm not alone and once he allowed me to pick him up and hold him while I buried my face in his fur and cried.

For a moment, I think I don't hear what I heard.

"Andre, STOP that." It's Eli, yanking the hissing, spitting kitten down off the fridge where it'd been slowly pushing a bowl of bizarrely-arranged fruit to the edge, probably trying to break it.

It's a long moment before I can get out, "What?"

Eli turns, Kitten cutting his hands, and looks at me, and there's both a look on his face like he's sorry and a look like he isn't.

After a long moment, he holds it out. "Andre," he says.

Kitten's sides are heaving, 'cause he's unable to get himself free of Eli's hands, and I'm up in a moment, grabbing him away Eli, holding him close.

"How could you DO this?"

"He was skulking around. I thought it would be appropriate."

"I didn't want this," I shout, though I don't really mean to get that loud. "I never wanted to make him into my pet! I only ever wanted to just - to just love him!"

"He needed to be in a state where he could feel--"

"Get out!"

Eli looks at me. "Don't remove the collar, Rex."

And then he goes.

I'm screaming tears for a while, voice all over the place, throat aching, and Kitten - Andre - doesn't fight, body tense.

"I'm sorry," I tell him when I get it under control, and reach out, snapping the collar.

Power.

It's a lot like water, or ribbons of air catching me up, and each movement's a carress, each gust's a promise that won't be kept, each swirl a mocking laugh.

And then Andre stands there, totally naked, hands too-tight on my shoulders, his body long and naked and utterly perfect, and I'm looking up into the black black eyes of the Prince of Lust, of the demon I love, and I need him.

Like fire. I'm hard already, I'm, like, begging for it, hands scrabbling at his skin, crying with the horrible intensity of it, and he smiles. Just smiles.

...His lips are full, so full, I know they'll be velvety and taste sweet, but that smile, it's not nice.

The world's shifting like sheets and I'm on a bed; chains slam into place and my chest feels like it's burning with every breath I suck at; I'm gasping, chains too-cold, heavy, as he leans back and smirks.

"Rex," he says. "You foolish, foolish child."

I need him, mutter his name, feel my hips arching though I didn't tell them to.

"The Media's idiot son," Andre murmurs. "What an apt nickname. Once an idiot demon, now an idiot angel. Plus ca change, plus ca meme chose."

"Andre..."

"It has been a while, hasn't it?" His fingers stroke down my chest, gentle, so good, my skin screaming, and, God, he takes my cock in a hand and even that simple touch, no movement, just holding, burns like he were doing so much more.

"Andre..."

"You left me, Rex," Andre says, and his voice is sad. "You left me. And now I must show you why nobody ever leaves me without my willing it so."

He squeezes.

PAIN - I hear my voice screaming and I see stars --

I wake up to find him inside me, moving way too casually, fucking me clearly without a care of if I feel it, if I like it. My arms and legs ache, uncomfortable angles, my hips tilted far enough up that it's hard to breathe, but I want it anyway, because it's him, because he makes me want it.

'cause my body has missed him.

His eyes, meeting mine - I know he knows I'm awake, and he thrusts hard, fist cracking across my jaw, rocking my head back. Pain, GOD, pain. I can't find breath to scream. "You little prick," he hisses. "You tiny-cocked snake. You never had two Etherial Forces to rub together, have you?"

It hurts, it hurts.

"You left me," he hisses. "You left me for Eli. You tried to keep me as if I were your pet. And most foolish, you insist on believing you still love me."

I gasp for air and yeah, there's that scream, as he reaches out and snaps one of my fingers.

"Do you love me, Rex?" he murmurs, face almost kind for a moment, one hand stroking my cheek as he thrusts into me, hard.

"Yes," I say, because I can't lie for him anymore.

Another finger and I writhe. I could go Celestial, I think. But he'd kill me if I left him now. He may kill me anyway, but I can't leave him.

"Do you love me?"

"Yes."

Snap.

"Do you love me?"

"Andre!"

Snap. Twist. Another scream finds its way out. He won't let me dodge the question. He wouldn't, I guess.

"Do you love me?"

"Yes! Yes, I love you!"

Snap.

I want to die!

"Do you love me, Rex? Speak carefully."

"Yes!"

Snap. My thumb. I can't feel my hand now, though I see it fine, hanging twisted in its cuffs at angles it really, really shouldn't.

"One hand gone already. Poor boy. Really, it's a simple question. Do you love me?"

"Yes!"

Snap.

"Do you love me?"

I'm sobbing, the pain burning my body, the pleasure, God, so much worse and I want to damn him for it, but I cannot speak those words, because I love him too much, because he's so hurt, because he needs to get well, because I know he needs to believe I can't love or he's wrong, he's been wrong all this time, and he couldn't live like that, and all I can do is love him, love him, love him, and hope it's enough!

"Andre, I love you! I love you so much, too much, I love you and I need you-"

Snap. Snap. Snap. Snap.

I'm screaming again, arching, and he pumps into me, purring with pleasure. I can hear it. Way louder than my screaming somehow.

God.

"Poor boy," he murmurs. "Poor little Rex. Poor little idiot. Never had your father's brains, did you? But he knew when he made you like that. Hardly your fault he didn't want to be upstaged and hardly your fault you will never, ever be smart enough to know when you've lost. Look at you. How do you feel?"

"Hurts," I manage, shivering. And, though I know he'll hurt me worse, I have to say it, it's True, I have to stay with that, "love you."

I have to love him. Have to just love him. Hope it'll be enough. Loving him.

"No, Rex," he says, and is almost sad, shifting my hips against his lap while I'm shuddering. "No, you see... The ideal of love is something pure, untouched by suffering or pain. If you love me, nothing I could do would hurt you; nothing I could do would cause pain. The fact that you are hurting now proves that you don't love me and if you, who felt your love was so true, are not in love... then there is no such thing. Isn't that so?" He smiles, an expression that lights his face up, and I cry. I want to reach out and touch his face with these hands that won't work, that're tied down, want to grab him and pull him close and hold him and make him know that it's all right, he's wrong, and that's okay, and I feel a Balseraph resonance push at me and I shy away from it.

It's a moment - crying, hurting, wanting to hold him - before I realize that I have somehow - amazingly - managed to shrug off his Resonance (a Superior!) and it'll get worse, now, SO much, so I draw in a breath and have to tell him NOW, right NOW, before he stops me from being able to speak,

"Love isn't painless, Andre. People make mistakes, man! Sometimes we don't understand, you know, and that's bad, but just because people believe the wrong things about each other doesn't mean that the love wasn't real - it just means they've made mistakes. You know? When it hurts it's 'cause they've made mistakes and the love aches to be made right, right? It has to hurt because it's being ...raped, I guess, it's like dissonance, if you deny something true it hurts, if you deny yourself it hurts, and if you deny love, it-"

And his hand covers my mouth; I shut up, fast, look up into burning dark eyes - anger, and a pain that looks utterly older than time and I cry.

I try to get out "I love you," around him, but I can feel a tenseness, dizzy pain, cracking noise loud --

And I remember Andre and I remember pain in his eyes and I know suddenly that he loved me, he had to have loved me, but couldn't let himself know it and I'm wailing, screaming, my Heart pulsing wildly and arms fold around me, Eli pulling me into the shelter of his arms and his wings, inexplicably in Heaven.

I want to stay quiet but can't and wail "I love you" over and over to ears that I know can't hear me, even from Heaven.

Eli murmurs, "I know. I loved him too," and eventually, all wrapped up in Eli's love and sadness, I manage to stop screaming it, though it pulses through me in perfect time with my Heart: I love you, I love you, I love you.

And it hurts so much.