Why is Love so Hard? |BENDY X HENRY| (OLD)

Smiles.

Demons don't have souls. It's a simple, well known fact. We're soulless beings who leave nothing but chaos and destruction in our paths.

Well, I do have a soul now- it's just not in me. And as kinky as that sounds, I'm not gonna stick Steve up my ass. I'm not that lonely. ...

But in that sense, I shouldn't be able to feel love. It doesn't make sense, my attraction to Henry. Maybe I just like corpses.

I mean, back there in the alley I was pretty content to smooch it up with Toothless. And Henry's pretty much a walking corpse. Still, without a soul, can I even be 'neckroephilp' or whatever it's called?

I stir my coffee with the miniscule faux silver spoon placed on the table. Steve is floating aimlessly around the cup, and it occurs to me that, without a body, it's useless. 'Just like me', I think before I can stop myself.

Drops of caramel colored magma drip off my spoon as I tap it on the mouth of the cup. Drops plip-plopping back into the steamy porcelain volcano below as I hum.

"So, Steve.." the soul rushes behind the cup at the sound of my distorted voice, and I roll my pupil-less eyes, "Yeah, yeah, I know. 'Steve' isn't doin' it for me neither, pal. I'm workin' on it.."

It still doesn't come out. Whatever.

I press the cups to my lips, and down some of the liquid. I jerk, suddenly sitting bolt upright as the lava burns my tongue and down my throat.

"FUCK-" I slam the cup back on the table, "FUCK- THAT SHIT'S HAWH-HOT-!"

And then I realise in my childish idiocy, I smashed the soul with my cup. Whoops. But when I pick the cup up, I'm not met with a glowing splat, just a spider-web of cracks across the orb.

Huh. I take another drink of scalding bitterness. "What're ya, indestructible or some'in?" I ask, grinning.

No response. I chuckle, "Typical- er, whatever your name is."

Oh, wait. I have this thing's driver's card thingy. Pulling it out of my pocket, I examine the card, comically small in my gloved hand.

Logan H. Lyndsday

Eyes: BR

Hair: BL

Sex: M

Height: 5' 5"

State: New York

DOB: 11/1/1979

ID: 594566360

"Logan? What, your creators hated ya or some'in?" I snicker, throwing the card out on the table. The soul doesn't stir, doesn't even react. Just flinches away.

I side-eye my new gallery, bloody bodies splayed all around the small diner. I've always liked red. But even without my leering gaze, it stays put behind the small plastic tin of sugar and salt packets.

Flexing my spikes, I give up the charade and turn back to it, "What, your name ain't Logan or some'in?" I growl. This thing is starting to test my patience.

The bright soul flinches at my tone, embers crackling. I huff. Placing my cheek in my hand, I drum my claws against the table, "Oh well, s'not like ya need one anyway..."

But as I sit there in the tiny cushioned both, an idea comes to mind. Admittedly, it's a bad one, but the Ink Demon has never been known for his sober-like sanity.