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Your lips gliding against his again felt like a dream.
Mammon groans softly, pinned between your body and the sofa in his room. His lips are gentle and his soft hair tickles your cheeks and the bridge of your nose. You didn’t mean to topple both of you over, but you’re grateful for it. There’s something reassuring about being pressed against him, feeling and loving the warmth of his skin. For the first time since you fell through time, Mammon’s face is relaxed—his handsome features less stricken by grief and self-hatred. You run your fingers over his brows and along his cheeks, trying to commit this more peaceful version of him to memory.
The dream doesn’t last long.
Mammon snatches your wrists, pulling your hands from him and leaning back to end the kiss. For a moment, you stare into the ocean blues and molten golds of his irises, watching his snow white lashes flutter as he blinks at you. You almost laugh, this bewildered expression reminding you so much of your Mammon at home before you fell in love.
But this isn’t your Mammon. And this isn’t home.
“Whoa! Wh-?!”
He mumbles frantically for a moment, thoughts tangled by his tongue while he slowly inches up the arm of the couch to put more distance between your bodies. Your heart sinks into your stomach. You shouldn’t be here.
“I don’t…what the…are you crazy!?”
Alarmed by the harshness of his tone, you lean back and the gap grows even wider.
You already miss his warmth. You miss him.
As the tears begin to well, you hear a familiar uncomfortable squeak from the direction of Mammon’s door. Leviathan is gawking, an envious blush spreading from his nose to the tips of his ears.
“D’ah! Levi…you son of a…what’re you lookin’ at?”
The brothers squabble as Mammon wiggles himself out from underneath you. You stay on the couch, tucking your face into the cushions, willing your tears to go away.
“It’s not what ya think! Ya got it all wrong, okay?! All wrong!” Mammon shouts as he gives Leviathan chase, their bickering sounding down the hallway.
You lie still, listening to your pulse echoing in your skull, hoping that you can compose yourself enough to leave his room. The couch doesn’t even smell the same. There’s that summery metallic smell that’s uniquely Mammon, but all the other gifts time bestowed on it—drunkenly spilt Demonus, the occasional magical residue from a misfired spell, the iron tang of the Grimm he’s hid in the cushions, the smell of you—are all gone. It makes you sick.
It takes a few shaking breaths, but you manage to peel yourself up, wobbling on unsteady feet as you make your way into the hallway. You don’t want to see Mammon right now. Not this one. So you run as fast as your legs will take you out of the House of Lamentation. You find refuge in a storage closet at Cocytus Hall. This place doesn’t remind you of anything, so it feels like a safe place to cry. You curl in on yourself, finding comfort in the burning of your lungs. Your D.D.D. buzzing in your pocket goes ignored. You’re sure this Lucifer will be furious with you. You weep silently until the tears run dry.
When you emerge, the rest of Cocytus Hall is quiet. Your tear-puffed eyes scan the hall anyway because you know Solomon can be very sneaky. You tread carefully throughout the house, hoping to reach the sanctity of your room without bumping into your sorcerer roommate.
As you drift through the unfamiliar space, that same sick feeling swirls in your gut. You have to stop a few times—leaning against the weird feeling walls, taking steadying breaths—before you make it there.
Your door is cracked open. It shouldn’t be.
This wouldn’t be the first time Solomon entered your room without permission, but you storm in intent on ensuring it’s the last. What you don’t expect to see is a very different shock of white hair, bat-like wings flexing in surprise at your abrupt entry. You stand frozen at the threshold.
“Oh, uh,” Mammon starts, tucking his head down. “Sorry. Uhm.”
This is so much worse than the look on his face after you kissed him. Mammon is perched on the edge of your bed, folded in on himself. He looks nervous and unsure. He’s out of place here in more ways than one. It breaks your heart.
“Look, uh, attendant, I didn’t mean to run out on ya like that after we…uh, ya know…” he rushes over the words, the same flustered blush blooms across his cheeks. It’s very similar to your version of him, but it’s not the same. He’s still just as beautiful. “But ya know Levi is real annoying and I had to teach him a lesson bout walking into my room without asking so I couldn’t just let ‘em go. No one could reach ya on your D.D.D. and we got worried, and I thought that maybe I had something to do with ya ignoring us so I came here- But I shoulda asked before barging into your room cuz I just yelled at Levi for the same thing and-”
He lifts his head, running a shaky hand through his hair. “Wait, why’re your eyes all red? Were ya crying?”
You don’t mean to, but the softness in his voice makes the tears flow once more. Your shoulders tremble with effort, trying but failing to stop them. You turn on your heel to flee the room, your uncertainty making it impossible to face him—to hear that beautiful voice full of concern for you.
All you can think about is your Mammon. How scared and angry and heartbroken he must be. Your home. And how it may be falling apart. And how much you miss them. Miss him.
But a firm pair of arms swiftly wrapping around your middle prevents your escape. You thrash in his hold, the sobbing only worsening when he holds you tighter. You feel the warmth of his cheek press into your shoulder. He whispers into your sweater a string of apologies and “it’s okay”s and “I’m here”s until your body is too tired to struggle any longer. You sink with him to the ground, taking the much needed comfort of being protected in his embrace.
“Please don’t go.”
If you had it in you to cry more, you would. Instead, you turn in his arms to wrap your own around his shoulders. You tuck your face into the crook where his neck meets his shoulder and trace little circles on his back over his jacket with your fingers. He trembles, too, the fabric where his face is buried in your shoulder becoming damp.
When his own tears stop, he scoops you up and carries you to your bed. He places you down with a gentleness that makes your heart swoop, pulling the strange comforter up to tuck you in. He pulls himself up to leave, but you grab his wrist to pull him down with you, holding him until you fall asleep. Even though this isn’t your Mammon, you know you love him, too.
And for the first time since you fell through time, this place feels a little less like a nightmare.