73. Violette #3
“They took me there. Persephone and I, both. Long before I ever met Persephone—who, to me at the time, had been nothing but a whisper on the wind—Kairos told me of this horrible fate, and being the god that he is, knew that I would doubt him, so he had Tempus, Kairos, Aion, and even Moirai—the goddess of fate—take us there.”
What?
“Take you where?”
“To this potential. To the end of time. The end of life. The end of death. The end of everything. They brought Persephone and me to the edge of it, shoved us inside the mind of our malevolent offspring, and then we experienced the end.”
My mind reels trying to fathom such a thing.
“I think I need to sit down.”
Azrael frowns. “So you see…”
Not nearly.
My rear lands on the edge of the bed with a soft thud as my mind supplies his earlier words.
“... You said that you sought her out, time and time again. That she refused to give you a chance. You pursued her, even after you found out?”
Azrael gives me a sad smile. “Relentlessly. How can I fear the end or death, when it is all that I am?”
I rear back in disbelief. “But... It’s so selfish. Your union would mean the death of everyone and everything.”
The guilt and resignation weighing on Azrael’s shoulders are heavy enough for me to feel. “Just one of many... I have witnessed entropy more times than I can even recall.”
I shake my head, unable to comprehend the magnitude of this.
“For what it’s worth, I offered to have a vasectomy.”
I can’t help but huff a sad laugh. “Would that even work?”
He shrugs, limply. “Probably not.”
Silence falls heavily between us, and with each passing moment, I watch his posture grow heavier, and an all too familiar look settles on his handsome features.
A mixture of sadness, expectation, and defeat.
He’s certain I will refuse him now, just as I thought Levi would refuse me.
I almost chuckle.
You sweet, sweet creature. It’s like you don’t know me at all.
He was willing to sacrifice everyone and everything to be with his soulbound. Perhaps I’m more unwell than I thought, because I’m not sure I’ve ever heard anything more romantic.
That, plus all the suffering that he’s experienced. The loneliness. The rejection. The heartbreak. I cannot even begin to fathom how many loved ones he has had to watch die.
Countless aeons of death and endings.
‘I think he has a death wish.’
Azrael frowns. ‘Don’t we all... ’
My gaze slides back to his as I am hit by the most obvious realization. “You want to die…”
The irony that death himself is apparently incapable of dying seems like a cosmic joke.
The glistening in Azrael’s eyes returns.
“I’m tired, seraphim... So very tired.”
I close the distance between us. If there’s one thing I am familiar with, it’s romanticizing the end.
“I don’t blame you, darling.”
He sniffles, gaze dropping and looking so very human and even more vulnerable.
“Perhaps it's why Ourinessa is deteriorating.”
Fuck.
Before I can think better of it, I lift my hand to stroke his cheek. “Oh, angel…”
I’ve never called anyone in my life an angel, but I’m happy for him to be the first.
I’ve always had an affinity for death.
Even before I met him.
And if I’ve learned anything about Levi, it’s that he does too.
Perhaps this is Kismet.
My throat works around a knot of emotion as I hold his gaze.
“And if I wanted to give you a reason to live? Would you allow it?”
Perhaps then Ourinessa would stop... leaking souls.
Perhaps if you heal, your domain would heal.
Though I know nothing about these things, having rejected my father and his domain... the domain that I have spent my life refusing to claim. So I refrain from speaking what might be nothing more than naive foolishness.
Azrael’s expression tightens as his eyes slip shut and tears stream down his cheeks. The effort to swallow back his emotion is audible. His voice drops to a whisper. “I would like that very much.”
Azrael draws in a fortifying breath, shoving down his tears, before he bends and sweeps me off my feet. He carries me across the room to sit on the edge of the bed, holding me in his lap, where I burrow against his chest. Like a tiny rabbit with agoraphobia.
The sound of the bathroom door opening makes me go rigid, the tension in my body winding tighter and tighter with each of Levi’s soft padding footsteps.
He comes to a stop in front of us.
Azrael inhales, bracing himself.
“Why are we crying?”
I peek out from the haven of Azrael’s chest to find Levi staring down at us, wearing a look of genuine concern on his face. Cautious relief trickles in. I open my mouth to reply, but Azrael beats me to it.
“We were just discussing my lifelong foray with unrequited love, longing for death, entropy, and the Anti-Christ... that old handbag.”
Levi’s brow tenses as he nods as though he owns that handbag, grunts, and sits down on the bed beside me before laying down.
“Fucking hate that handbag.”
Azrael huffs a short laugh. Levi continues.
“Entropy is pretty cool to think about, though. The universe exploding into existence—something being birthed out of nothing—and life unfolding, exponentially expanding, until it all slowly begins to consume itself... All the stars dying out, and all of matter being sucked into black holes—and going God knows where—until all that’s left is a void. Kind of breathtaking to say the least.”
Azrael straightens, twisting to look at Levi as a grin spreads across his face.
“That’s what I’m saying!”
Joy radiates through me as I get to witness this unlikely friendship blossom before my very eyes.
Levi’s expression vaguely resembles a grin, eyes narrowing. “Do you know what lies on the other side of a black hole?”
Azrael’s grin widens. “Can you keep a secret?”
The smile hinting at Levi’s lips twitches before finally bursting into a full-blown grin. It’s a miracle I don’t dissolve into a puddle of goo at the sight.
And then I have the most selfish thought of all.
Do I dare hope to keep them both?