Hellfire ✞ a.f.i.

15: breaks in the heartline

    I don't like your kingdom keys,
They once belonged to me,
You asked me for a place to sleep,
Locked me out and threw a feast.

Look What You Made Me Do; Taylor Swift

Perhaps it was the unadulterated exhaustion, melted away by the warmth of his hot tub. Perhaps it was the fizzling of her anxiety as it faded into sleep. Perhaps it was due to the warm body of her—newly named—boyfriend lying beside her and holding her close to his chest the length of the night. Perhaps it was because reality had become more outrageous that day than any dream could ever hope to be.

Whatever the case may be, the clairvoyant Eden, still unaware of her strength, slept through the entirety of the night for the first time in days. Even when the early, pale blue sunlight crept through the glass windows in Ashton's room with the balcony view of Vegas, she did not awaken.

Ashton, however, did wake up, gently and slowly. He hazel eyes, not now aflame, flick across the room before landing on his girl. The Exemplaris sighs, running his hand through her auburn hair, messaging her scalp to keep her asleep. He knows she cannot count on sleep; when she finds it, he must protect it for as long as he can. Ashton takes one long deep breath after another, letting his fingers tangle and untangle themselves in her fiery locks as he watches the sun slowly rise.

For a moment, it's only them; the demon and his garden. He reflects, without feeling, on the fact that the last time he held someone like this—the last time he dubbed someone "his girl"—was the last time he breathed as a mortal. Had it really been seventy-something years since he cherished someone like this?

No, not like this. Eden is different.

Eden would never do what Mary had done. Eden would not be the reason for his second death. No, in fact, she may be the reason behind his second chance at life. His resurrection. His jackpot.

His right hand remains curled underneath her neck, continuously playing with her hair. His left trails down her shoulders, across her side and over her hip. Her legs, bare, only covered mid-thigh by the cheap gift shop t-shirt. His hand comes to a stop between her thigh and her knee.

        On she sleeps. On he holds her.

         Ashton slowly tilts his head downwards to brush his forehead against hers. Closing his eyes for a fleeting moment, he just breathes with her, grounds himself in this moment, just one out of an eternity for him. His eyes open slowly and are drawn back toward the natural light outside.

           One brow raises in irritation when a dark figure covers the sun with its great wingspan.

           Luke lands on Ashton's balcony and takes several long strides towards the glass panes of the door, knowing full well he is likely interrupting something between the romantic pairing. That was the entire point.