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Tango met Zedaph on a Sunday.
The religious zealots were in the street, like usual. They held their signs - proclaiming the end of times - with pride. Their evidence of the purple, winged gods leaving Earth behind for good, of people being abandoned by their creators, drew bystanders to them like sheep flocking to the shepherd.
Tango had never thought about the gods too deeply. When they forsake the people on Earth, left them to fend for themselves until Death claimed them all and left the streets and forests empty, Tango wasn’t scared. He knew he should be, because everyone else was. But the gods had never done anything for Tango except ruin him.
The zealots weren’t fans of Tango. When the sky was emptied, they saw his fiery hair and flaming tail and black claws as an omen of Death and the violent end in store for humans and hybrids alike. Every time his blaze rods whirred around his head, they looked at him in fear. So Tango didn’t go out much.
His home became his haven. Tango felt safe there. He found comfort in his thick walls and his fireplace, which he spent more time napping in then the rest of his house. Sleep has been Tango’s best friend lately. Something to pass the time. Despite himself, he felt the inevitable end. Tango, and the rest of the world, were in a state of waiting. When it came, he didn’t want the world to end quietly. Fire was familiar to Tango and if the world ended in flames, at least he’d feel at home.
Impulse and Skizz told him he was pessimistic. They didn’t heed the religious protesters' warnings and they had hope that everything would work out in the end. Tango didn’t understand it at all. Impulse was hated just as much as Tango for his horns and sharp, pointed tail and Skizz for his defence of them both. Skizz’s pure white angel wings and halo used to mean something, once. People listened to his words, clutched at them like he was one of their beloved gods. But with the end of the world, those beliefs faded. Skizz was just like them now.
Skizz wasn’t upset. Angels were rare, significantly less common than demons and blazeborn, but Skizz hated the attention his halo brought him. He didn’t want to be revered, he just wanted to be loved by those he held dear. Tango supposes that’s why their small circle doesn’t bother him now. Skizz had what he needed, just Impulse and Tango.
So really, Tango meeting a lone sheep hybrid wasn’t anything special. He had been walking home from the grocery store with his ingredients for that night’s dinner with Skizz and Impulse. His eyes were permanently turned away from the protestors, which is why he made eye contact with Zedaph. He was sitting on a street bench, eating a sandwich and watching the zealots contemplatively. His hanging sheep ears twitched with each proclamation of Death and the inevitable pain and suffering waiting for everyone who failed the gods. His horns were nestled in his blond curly hair. When he made eye contact with Tango, and he smiled, Tango’s heart skipped a beat. Not everyone was religious, but the lack of fear when his eyes flickered up to Tango’s flaming hair was what made Tango walk over to him.
“Hi,” Tango said. “Can I sit?”
Zedaph’s smile widened to beaming, brighter than the sun and on par with the flames Tango adored so much. His blaze rods whirled a little bit faster.
“Of course,” he replied, sliding to the left so Tango had enough space to sit. “You have beautiful flames.”
Tango blushed enough to rival the heat emanating from his head. His blaze rods tripped over themselves in their fast spin, clinking together with a loud sound.
“Tango. I’m Tango,” he blurted. “And thank you.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Tango. I’m Zedaph.”
They didn’t say much for a while, watching as someone on their way to work, briefcase in hand, was stopped by a sign wielding protestor. The man, just a regular human, was waving his hands animatedly as he tucked his sign under his arm. Peeking out from under his elbow were the words “End for All!” The lady who stopped nodded to whatever he was saying and she held out her phone to him in offering.
“It’s awful, isn’t it?”
Tango started at the sound of Zedaph’s voice. “What is?” he replied cautiously.
“Them. Religion. The gods,” he turned to face Tango to look at him intently. “The end.”
“I suppose so,” Tango replied. “But shouldn’t you-” he cut himself off, his eyes trailing to Zedaph’s floppy sheep ears.
“Shouldn’t I be over there with them?” Zedaph finished his sentence. There was amusement in his purple eyes, sparkling with the reflection of Tango’s fire. He crossed his hands over his legs, but his fingers still fidgeted. “I suppose I should be. They always expect me too. Sheep and the gods, somehow entwined,” he waved his hand dismissively. “But religion isn’t for me, I don’t think. Equality isn’t in their belief system and I’m not a fan of that.” Once again, his eyes flickered to Tango’s flames.
“I’ve noticed,” Tango replied dryly. He hesitated here, unsure if he could trust Zedaph. “It’s not nice when they shout things at me in the street, but I can handle it. My best friend, though? He’s a demon. Very sensitive and a big worrier. It just makes me so angry,” he trailed off.
Zedaph hummed. He was silent for a few seconds, looking at Tango with his head tilted. Tango couldn’t meet his eyes, so he studied the rest of his face. Zedaph’s brow was furrowed and it looked out of place on his face. Like he didn’t worry much, like his expression was used to smiles. Tango’s eyes finally drifted down to meet Zedaph’s purple ones again and suddenly he felt like he couldn’t breathe.
In Zedaph’s eyes was empathy, and also something haunted. Tango barely knew this man, they had only exchanged a handful of sentences, yet they understood each other more deeply than anyone else Tango had met. Zedaph smiled again, like he knew what Tango was thinking and felt the same. Tango turned back to the protestors abruptly, unable to handle the understanding in Zedaph’s eyes, like he would buckle under the weight of it.
The man that exchanged numbers with the lady was back to waving his sign around and was trying to snag more people that walked past. Tango could see his full sign now. “Empty Skies Means the End for All!” it read. Around the words were Watcher purple eyes with red X’s crossed through them. Tango swallowed around the lump in his throat, deeply unsettled.
“I should-” Tango started. “I should get back.” He held up his bag of groceries. Zedaph’s eyes flashed with disappointment.
“I wouldn’t want to keep you from your dinner,” Zedaph responded, his eyes firmly across the street.
Tango didn’t move. They sat in silence once again, but this one was strained. Unsaid words were like a chasm between them, Tango and this man he barely knew but felt connected to.
“It’s crazy,” the words rushed from Tango before he even realized he was speaking. “I feel like I know you, like you’re mine somehow. And I’m yours.”
Zedaph’s eyes found Tango’s again, this time brimming with an emotion Tango couldn’t place.
“Do you believe in soulmates, Tango?”
Tango’s mouth opened, but no words came out.
“Do you believe in the concept that each soul has its twin, created from the same molecules, at the same time?” Zedaph’s eyes strayed back to the zealots. “Something beyond the gods control. They Watched over the creation of the Universe, but even they couldn’t predict the journey of a soul.”
“I haven’t thought about it before,” Tango rasped. His throat felt dry and his hands were shaky, but something in his soul clicked into place. This is right, it sang to him. It is meant to be.
Zedaph turned to Tango once again, his smile radiant. “I do,” he said. “Believe in soulmates. The gods have abandoned Earth, but even during their time here, souls were a force they didn’t control.”
“Come with me,” Tango blurted. “To dinner, with my friends. Come, please?”
“You only ever have to ask, Tango. Of course I’ll follow you.”
They had only met today. Not even an hour ago, yet everything about Zedaph felt right. His heart beat like it had known Zedaph for years and his soul harmonized with Zedaph’s song. Suddenly the end of the world and the Earth’s loneliness in the Universe didn’t matter.
Zedaph followed Tango home.