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The angel was so beautiful it ached him in the chest.
The angel was so beautiful it ached him in the chest.
“Who—?” Lucifer tried, but the moment he spoke, he froze again. Quick, Asmodeus appeared beside the beautiful angel. A cheeky grin had found its way onto his face, and he opened his mouth to speak, but it was another voice, Raphael’s, that called out, “That is you, Lucifer.”
“Who—?” Lucifer tried, but the moment he spoke, he froze again. Quick, Asmodeus appeared beside the beautiful angel. A cheeky grin had found its way onto his face, and he opened his mouth to speak, but it was another voice, Raphael’s, that called out, “That is you, Lucifer.”
The first fruit Lucifer picked was a pomegranate.
The first fruit Lucifer picked was a pomegranate.
should have guessed — they’re beautiful.” Mellow, alluring, deep purple on long, tapered wings, with some minor white outlining feathers; the wings sunset from a slightly warmer hue at the tip to the cooler bottom.
should have guessed — they’re beautiful.” Mellow, alluring, deep purple on long, tapered wings, with some minor white outlining feathers; the wings sunset from a slightly warmer hue at the tip to the cooler bottom.
moved into the air. “Come on, follow me.” “Hm?” Lucifer brought a wing around to his front and picked at crisp, dried blood that had stuck a few feathers together. “You want to fly up high? But what if I fall?” “Have faith in God, and you will always be well, Lucifer.”
moved into the air. “Come on, follow me.” “Hm?” Lucifer brought a wing around to his front and picked at crisp, dried blood that had stuck a few feathers together. “You want to fly up high? But what if I fall?” “Have faith in God, and you will always be well, Lucifer.”
And then they fell, together, back to Heaven. The two flew up once more and let themselves fall; they did it over and over. They danced along the sky and among the stars.
And then they fell, together, back to Heaven. The two flew up once more and let themselves fall; they did it over and over. They danced along the sky and among the stars.
He wore beaded jewelry that rattled when he moved. “You’re pretty.” A grin. “That means everything coming from you. I’m happy to meet you. I’m Azazel.” “I’m Lucifer.” He paused, blinked, then the both of them laughed. “You know that already. Forgive me.” “No need to apologize. I see everything they say about you is true.” “What does everyone say about me?” Lucifer shifted onto his belly and laid with his arms crossed, cheek against a forearm. “That I’m no good at delivering fruits?” Another silky laugh. “Well, they do say that—” “I might just cry myself to sleep—” “They also say you’re the
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He wore beaded jewelry that rattled when he moved. “You’re pretty.” A grin. “That means everything coming from you. I’m happy to meet you. I’m Azazel.” “I’m Lucifer.” He paused, blinked, then the both of them laughed. “You know that already. Forgive me.” “No need to apologize. I see everything they say about you is true.” “What does everyone say about me?” Lucifer shifted onto his belly and laid with his arms crossed, cheek against a forearm. “That I’m no good at delivering fruits?” Another silky laugh. “Well, they do say that—” “I might just cry myself to sleep—” “They also say you’re the
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But we’re always looking for narratives, looking for meaning, looking for God. Even the angels.
“I haven’t taught you how to braid your hair. I’ll teach you soon.” He let go of the finished product, though he hadn’t tied it, didn’t have a ribbon with him, and it would come apart soon. “I’m tying better luck into your hair,” a laugh, “and maybe a little love too.” “Love?” “Yes, love,” he teased, then Rosier leaned to press a simple kiss to the top of his head.
There are some that can be described forever — each strand of hair, every line on a knuckle — and surely, Lucifer could have seen himself doing that, even now. This was his, this is our, first drunkenness. This heat in his face, this rush; he was leaning forward, breaths refusing him. Lucifer uttered it delicately, feeling his lips shape around the name and tasting honey sweetness, “Michael, Michael, Michael.”
It would definitely be easier than asking God, who was so good He would surely say yes, but He was nowhere to be found.
“You are a star, brother,” Gabriel teased, then took Lucifer’s face in a palm, swiped away a tear with his other hand. “Father told me. He said, ‘Look at my morning star. My Lucifer.’” Lucifer saw it: the Lord kissing his face, calling him His.
So far away in the crowd was Michael, with that proud grin of his and one hand in the air, but he called out to the youngest angel still. “Lucifer! Lucifer!” Even with all their distance, their gazes met and locked. An intake of breath, then the exuberant shout: “Lucifer — the Lord has never made as fine an angel as you!”
“Michael,” Phanuel reassured, “can fly a lot faster than that, so it could be sooner that he returns. Don’t look sad, Lucifer. I spoke to him before he left. He told me he’d seek you out once he returned.” “He did?” It soothed his heart, mellowed it until Lucifer was smiling again, though gently. “I hope he’s back soon then.”
He recalled the first time he’d taken note of Michael, winning the wrestling match with just a single drop of sweat falling from his brow. All Lucifer wished was to meet him, to speak with him. He couldn’t explain it, but it was all that he wanted.
Some had begun to say Lucifer had yet another title: the favorite.
Lucifer would say, ‘No, what can be wrong? In paradise, nothing can be wrong, and nothing can be wrong with me. God loves me. He would not make me wrong.’
Lucifer couldn’t contain his laughter. It was just another simple moment in his repetitive life; but he was happy — happy, happy, happy. What else could an angel be but happy?
And it was sweet to believe that there’s ever such a person who starts our life, that everything before them was unnecessary — the belief that life begins with love. Our first love.
that he took any indication otherwise as insult. “I never did ask,” he said, to diffuse his annoyance, “how old you are, Asmodeus.” “Eleven billion.” “Oh.”
“You know my name,” Michael said, and his voice had a mellow reverb to it. “That’s a shame. I wanted to introduce myself.” Lucifer opened his mouth, but Michael was grinning; it revealed little dips in his cheeks. “I am Michael, archangel of God, angel of strength.” ‘Angel of God,’ Lucifer thought.
“Don’t bow for me.” A flinch tempted to rush Lucifer; he sensed Michael inch closer. “You’re an archangel.” “I’m your brother.” A warm hand — taking Lucifer’s shoulder. “An angel just like you, an angel that has wanted to meet you for many years now.”
“Have— Did you just return from your trip?” “The moment I landed,” he laughed, both full and breathless, “I flew through all of Heaven, asking everyone I saw, ‘Have you seen an angel named Lucifer? Do you know where he lives?’ They told me about this feast, so I landed outside. And then I heard singing, your singing, the same way I did just before I had to leave. By Father’s will, I saw you right through the window.”
“You’re as beautiful as I remembered.” “Michael.” Lucifer interlocked his fingers before himself. “I’m really— I’m honored, but you were gone for so many years.” He settled to sit beside the other, staring down. “Go rest, please.” “Don’t you worry, I will, but I wanted to come know you first.”
Lucifer relaxed because he knew that the two of them were nervous, only one was better at hiding it. “I’m not sure. All that time up there in the cosmos — I had nothing to do but think about you. I mean that.”
“I wanted nothing more than to see Earth for a long time,” Lucifer said, a bit offhandedly, not thinking. “I’m happy in Heaven and happy with Father, but I would still… want to see what it’s like.” “It’s an interesting place, an indescribable one.” Michael nodded, seemingly to himself, then told him, “I’ll take you to Earth, whenever you like.”
Michael had a grin in his tone. “But then that is a yes that you’ll be my worshiping mentor?” “I suppose I’m saying that. However,” Lucifer looked back at the older angel with a little smile tugging at the ends of his own lips, “I want to learn from you as well.” “Anything.” Instant response. “Anything you would like to learn from me.”
“Lucifer.” “Yes, Michael?” He let his head fall, allowed some discomfort to creep onto the surface of himself once more, as his fellow angel sat at his side. They were back to how they had been minutes ago. “You’re so ashamed of yourself.” Lucifer blinked, wondering if his emotions were really that noticeable, getting angry at himself for it, for definitely irritating the prince. “I don’t see why. If I could, I’d praise you the way that you need, but I can’t, so instead I’ll tell you to enjoy your beauty.”
“When may I see you again? I want to see you again soon.” Michael was radiant against the forever brilliance of Heaven. “Not long. I’ll find you. And if I’m told to take to the stars again, I’ll just take you with me.”
“But what if I enjoy being so timid and so humble?” What if Lucifer enjoyed hating himself? “I’ll have to convince you otherwise.”
Michael drank some wine again, slow, considering, before he replied, “That was a gallery? For art?” Lucifer told him that it was, and one end to the archangel’s lips twirled. “I suppose it’s no surprise that’s where I found you then.”
A rumbling chuckle. “All of them? Is there anything you can’t do, angel of beauty?” For the first time in his short life, pride unraveled in his chest; and Lucifer smiled, delicate and sweet as honey.
It was nice not to concern themselves with the rest of Heaven. It was nice to exist as only two angels in a universe, however momentarily.
Michael — taking both of Lucifer’s wrists with one hand, holding them sturdy with no hint of difficulty, still over the other. And Lucifer had cried, “This isn’t— This isn’t fair— You’re the angel of strength.” Enervated gasping — breaking up his words. “I can never beat you.” Their faces had been close, so close that their breaths brushed their lips; and Lucifer, feeling nothing but fire and newborn, tight confusion in the pit of his stomach, could only stare up at the other, wide-eyed, feeble.
“I want to be good for you,” came the soft words from between Lucifer’s lips. “I want to be perfect for you.” ‘I was made for you.’ “All I wish is to have you speak fondly to me.”
“Is there a reason you’ve broken into my home and woken me up?” “Broken in?” Michael laughed. “I asked permission. Now, may Lucifer, Father’s favorite and most beautiful angel, allow me into his room?”
“You can’t be serious, Michael. Why would you do all that? Did you hit your head?” “I’ve never felt better, brother.” Michael was still laying back comfortably. “There are not many greater joys than seeing angels experience things for the first time. You need someone to protect you, too, and I don’t doubt Gabriel’s abilities but, don’t forget, I made this promise to you. I’m fulfilling it now.”
“You’re a great angel, Lucifer. Don’t say things like that. You act like you don’t deserve kindness.” Lucifer wanted to tell Michael he’d always thought this, had always had this little, unintelligible feeling in his head. “Well, you deserve a lot more than that. I feel like I have to invent new ways to be nice to you.” “I’m sorry—” “No, don’t apologize. You’re a sweet angel, and I like to spend time with you. Don’t argue with me.”
“Let me take you to Earth, let me show you all that it is.”
Lucifer feared the prince would berate or laugh at him or leave him, but he never did. He laughed, fondly, kept replying, “Tell me more. No, I want to hear you say it. I like how you think,” as if he thought Lucifer’s strangeness was a little beauty too.
He laid a while like that, eyes shut, face smothered against a pillow. He remembered Michael — those confident eyes, those strong arms — a ditzy smile quivering Lucifer’s lips, then his wings unfurling to curl up close to his body, hugging his form. ‘Stop, it’s not right to think of another angel so much.’ It was strange, it was wrong. Lucifer forced thoughts of the Lord, hoping he’d see Him again, in his sleep, and sit beside the great Throne. Instead, he dreamt of Michael.
“But what if we tried healing it?” “You cannot heal a dead thing, Lucifer.” “But—” He grimaced. “I can see you’re getting frustrated with me.” “I could never be frustrated with you.”
Lucifer didn’t notice the eyes on him for a while — when he did, it was because he’d moved to splash his face. He noticed Michael, gaze caressing the shape of his figure, as if his eyes were a mouth, and he was tasting Lucifer like champagne.
