41. Diablos
Chapter forty-one
Diablos
No matter how much we wanted to stay in our bubble of happiness, we knew it was time to return home. Dagon tried to hide his feelings, but our bond betrayed his worry about facing King. He feared King wouldn't accept him as a demon. He feared he wouldn't accept me and that I would lose my father.
I felt it through the thread before he had a chance to bury it.
It was a fast, sharp drop in him every time King came up in conversation.
The bond didn't translate the fear into spoken words for me.
It just gave me the shape of it. The same shape Dagon had walked around with for fifteen years and never once let me see.
I didn't tell him I could feel it.
Some things a person needs to carry by himself for one more minute before he's ready to be carried.
My emotions were different. I clung to anger to mask my fears, or maybe the anger that I've been holding back had finally surfaced.
Anger toward King for pushing Dagon away all those years ago.
Rationally, I understood King's reasons, but that didn't diminish my resentment.
Anger that he didn't tell us the whole truth before we left.
Anger that he disappeared like thin air and only messaged us to check if we're okay.
Eight years.
That was the number I kept landing on. Eight years of believing Dagon hated me.
Eight years of thinking I had done something wrong.
Eight years of watching him walk away from rooms I'd entered.
Eight years. And it had cost me a brother and a friend and, I knew now – a mate.
All because King had decided one afternoon in a hospital corridor that what was forming between us wasn't real.
That my feelings weren't real. That Dagon's weren't either.
That an angel knew better than two souls who had recognized each other the way mine had recognized Dagon's.
I rationally understood. King had been trying to protect his children.
But understanding wasn't the same as forgiveness, and I wasn't sure forgiveness was on the table yet.
The fear was connected with my brothers, not King. I worried about how our brothers would react, whether they would accept us the way we are, which prompted me to call Bren while Dagon visited Adam.
“Is Dagon okay? Are you?” Bren asked immediately.
“We're fine,” I reassured him.
Once satisfied we were safe, Bren's tone turned mischievous. “My brothers are dating each other.” He cackled loudly. “Oh, this is soooo good!”
“Bren,” I warned.
“Think about it! It’s like one of your books. Wait, what did you call it? Enemies-to-lovers!”
“We're not enemies-to-lovers.”
“You totally are,” he argued.
“We are more like fake-enemies-who-are-also-adopted-brothers-forced-to-distance-ourselves-to-lovers.”
“That… doesn’t even make sense, and it was long,” he laughed.
“Oh, it does make sense. Trust me.”
After a brief pause, Bren said, “I’m happy for you. For both of you.”
“Thank you, Bren.”
“I mean, I’ll definitely make fun of you guys when you get back and poke you for details. Except for sex details. None of those, please. I don’t wanna know how my brothers fuck each other.”
“Bren!” I screamed, choking on a laugh.
“Okay, okay, seriously though. Does he make you happy?”
“Yes,” I answered instantly.
“You treat each other right? Respect each other?”
“Yes.”
“Is he there when you need him?” he was about to add more to the question, but he stopped himself.
“Yes.”
“And I guess the answer to all of these questions, if I ask him, would be the same.”
“Yeah.”
“I will still ask him. That’s all I need. It'll take time seeing you two together romantically, but that's my issue. I support you two.”
Emotions tightened my throat. “Thank you, Bren.”
“No matter what, Di, both of you are still my brothers. And tell Dagon if he hurts you, I’ll kick his ass, and I’ll kick your ass if you hurt him.”
Laughing softly, I replied, "Noted. There's more to explain, but we'll do that in person. We need to talk to everyone without King there. Can you let me know when he's out?"
“Deal. Still home prisoners, so we'll be here. Just let me know when you're coming.”
"We'll be home in a few days. Thanks again."
Before hanging up, I decided to share my OCD diagnosis with Bren.
I expected the silence that came after I said the words. What surprised me was that Bren's wasn't the bad kind – the kind that means the other person is rearranging their understanding of who you are. His was the kind that meant he was thinking carefully about what to say first.
"Okay," he said, "thank you for telling me. I have one question, and then I'll shut up unless you want to talk more. Is that okay?"
"Yeah," I managed.
"Is there something I've done over the years that made it harder for you to deal with? Anything I should stop doing, or anything you'd want me to do differently?"
I didn't expect the question. And I didn't have an answer for it – not one I could give immediately. He had always been my closest brother. He had been sunshine. I couldn't think of a thing he'd done that had ever made it worse.
"You've been Bren," I said, my voice thick. "That was always the right thing to be."
"Okay." I could hear him swallow. "Then I'll keep being Bren. And I'll learn from you whatever you want me to learn. And if you ever spiral and need someone who isn't your boyfriend, you call me. I don't care what time it is."
A single tear spilled down my cheek.
"You're Diablos," he said. "My brother Diablos. Don't be ashamed. Don't hide your struggles from me. Don't let the pain fester in you till you can't breathe anymore. I'm here for you."
Something in his voice made me question whether he too had let pain within to fester and hurt him. But I didn't get the chance to ask. He quickly said he's beeing called by King and we hung up.
It was freeing to share openly and realize nothing changed between us.
When Dagon returned, he found me lost in thought. "Hey there."
Smiling, I opened my arms. "Come here."
He moved lightning-fast, making me jump. “Holy shit! I’ll need time to get used to that.”
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I’m not.” He laughed, wrapping me in his embrace. “How did it go?”
“Bren said he’ll kick our asses if we ever hurt each other.” Dagon shook his head fondly. “He also wants all the details, minus sex things. Apparently, he doesn't need to know how his brothers fuck."
Dagon groaned. “I really didn’t need to know this part of your conversation.”
“I’m just getting you ready.”
“Ready for what?”
I laughed harder. “Bren’s teasing. This is Bren. We will get teased no matter what.” My laughter softened when I saw tenderness in his eyes. “What?”
“You look happier after talking with Bren. I’m glad.”
I rested my head on his shoulder. "I needed that conversation. So much changed recently – us, the demons, me becoming a demon, the powers – it all caught up with me. Talking openly felt good. I don't want to hide anymore."
"You shouldn't. We will support you. I'm proud of you."
"Thank you," I whispered.
Bren's words echoed in my mind, 'You're Diablos. My brother Diablos. Don't be ashamed, and don't hide your struggles from me. Don’t let the pain fester in you till you can’t breathe anymore. I’m here for you.’
“Dagon?”
“Yes, love?”
“I want to find a psychologist when we get home and start therapy."
The words were out before I could weigh them. They had been sitting in my mouth since the bathroom floor. Probably longer. Probably since the day my father called me Diablos for the hundredth time and I realized I had started to believe him.
Dagon went still.
I felt the bond thread go taut, not from worry. From attention. He was listening with his whole body.
"I've never done it before," I said, quieter.
"Not therapy. Not seriously. I tried twice in college and quit both times, because the moment they asked me to do something hard, I bolted, and mostly because I didn't feel safe with them.
I didn't trust them. I told myself I didn't need it.
That I could manage on my own. That this was my curse I needed to bear.
That telling someone the real shape of what was in my head would make me a monster in their eyes. "
I swallowed.
"I don't think I can manage on my own anymore. I don't want to. I want to actually try. I want to learn how to live with this instead of just survive it. And I want to do that work because… because there's something now that's worth doing the work for."
I looked up at him.
"You. Us. The version of me you've been telling me exists. I want to meet that version of me. I want to know him."
Dagon's eyes were wet.
He didn't say anything for a long moment. He just took both my hands in his and pressed his forehead against mine.
"Then that's what we will do," he whispered."If you want me, I can ask Andras to recommend someone."
"That would be good, yeah."
"And Dagon," I added. "About what we talk in the therapy, I want to share some of it with you. Not all of it. Some things might need to stay just for me and the therapist. Is that okay?"
"That's exactly okay," he said immediately. "Your head stays yours. Your healing stays yours. I'm here for whatever you want to share, and I'm here for what you want to keep. Both are right."
The bond went warm. The kind of warm that meant yes, this is the version of us I want.
"I'll be there for you every step. And when you just want to curl up with your books, I'll be right there."
"You won't read with me?" I teased, voice playful despite the fears.
"Fine, sometimes."
"If you're not the perfect boyfriend, I don't know who is."
"Well, your perfect boyfriend needs to pack. But first, dinner?"
“Sounds perfect to me.”
He turned toward the kitchen.
I stayed where I was for one more breath.
The sky was beginning to dim into evening over Adam's woods.
Somewhere in that direction, in a house I had grown up in, my father was waiting.
He didn't know yet what his son had become.
He didn't know about the pledge or the bow or the eyes that shimmered gold-red when I was angry or feeling a strong emotion.
He didn't know that the boy whose palm he cut did bond to an infernal-celestial object and pledged that object and his soul to Hell.
He didn't know his other son had been all along a demon.
He would know soon.
Today we packed. Tomorrow we drove.
And then, then we went home and revealed the truth.