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.
