Young Writers Society

Cornyx snorted. "I'll drink to that," he agreed, raising his tequila and downing it. It burned as it ran down his throat and regarding Angel. He liked him. He didn't know why, but he did, and he liked his company and he was starting to wish they were somewhere a little less noisy. Angel also had very nice hair. Very nice, smooth, luscious black hair.

"You have good hair," he said, voice somewhat slurred. "Super good."

...Cain had just complimented him.

That didn't neccesarily mean that he was into him, but God decided that he would see it that way and deal with the potential heartbreak later. He downed the rest of his drink and tried to keep himself as relaxed and confident as he could be - he couldn't let himself blow it.

"Thank you," he said. He gave him a smile. "Your hair is very good, too."

He leaned a little closer, took a deep breath he apparently only needed when drunk, and asked, "Do you want to come to my hotel room with me? It's a little too loud in here - I don't want to strain my ears to hear you, and we could talk about more personal things without the entire world hearing us."

Cornyx had never so much as contemplated the possibility of being anything but straight, and the thought didn't cross his mind despite the tint of pink that washed his pale features. What he did recognize was that that suggestion sounded...nice. Pleasant. Just the two of them, in the quiet, without all these disturbances.

"Yesh," he agreed, a smile gracing his lips as he scrambled about for his phone. "I jusht need to let my friend know or she might wonder where I disappeared toooo and I don't want to worry her." It took two tries before he input his passcode properly and three more to actually get into the texts with Runi. Once in, he typed out a simple message: going two the hotle rom with angel man. Now that this was out of the way, he slid it into his back pocket and smiled at Angel again.

"All done!" he announced, far louder than he meant to.

The hotel wasn't that far from the bar - there was a job near there, but he was too drunk to remember what the job was supposed to be. Something about a ghost, he thought as he led Cain through the streets, but he couldn't recall why the ghost was a problem.

No one spared them a second look as they entered the hotel - almost all of the people there were staying for pride. The only thing that was a little questionable was the masks they wore, but it was late and the few people lingering in the lobby were as drunk as they were.

The room was on the first floor - it didn't take long to get to it. He opened the door and brought Cain inside, thankful that it looked at least a little. He didn't want to give a bad first impression.

He readjusted the mask on his face, too. He could have taken it off, but it felt snug there, and some smart part of him reminded him that he couldn't throw caution to the wind. He didn't want this to bite him in the butt later.

But, for now, all he could focus on was Cain.

He sprawled out on top of the covers of the bed, watching Cain with somewhat glazed eyes. "Do you own it?" He paused, then realized he needed to clarify. "Your law firm. I want to know what it's like to have a boss - I'm my own boss. The others and I talk, but they don't control me, and I don't like them that much. They're all assholes."

The hotel room was small, but comfortable, and the softer lights and lack of noise was like a weight lifted from his shoulders. He let out a quiet sigh as the door closed behind them and wandered in after Angel, sitting down on the foot of the bed as the other man flopped back.

He hummed a little at the question. "Yes," he said, "but I...didn't always." Quiet. Then, he added something he definitely wouldn't have if he were sober, and would be glad to forget in the morning. "Just having a bosh was waaaaaay better than a parent though. But yeah...yeah they're assholes. Heh."

He let out a sigh and stared up at a ceiling.

"I didn't ask to do this," he said. His insistence on sticking to his story of being a priest was quickly waning - he just wanted to talk. He ranted about his issues to his brother all of the time, but there was only so much he could say. There was only so many times he could say it without sounding like a broken record, too.

(Gods, he realized, needed therapists, but unfortunately there weren't any available for people like them.)

"It was just fate," he said. "A moral obligation. I don't want to do this, but at this point there's no one who could ever fit my role. People try to help. It's still never enough. Things like this weren't ever supposed to be run by a single person. A king isn't supposed to rule his kingdom on his own, and even presidents have cabinets."

Cornyx let out a long breath and fell back next to Angel, pulling the mask off his face and staring at the ceiling. He looked quite different than he had twenty four years ago: black eyes had turned a much bluer hue, and white drew a streak through his otherwise ebon hair. Over the years his gaunt form had filled out and although he was lithe and more lanky than stocky, he wasn't as gangly as he'd once been.

"I don't believe in fate," Cornyx said. "But obligigigations are fair enough. Obligatins. Obligationsss. I dunno, though, I like...like doing it alone. Less people. Less people is better. Much better. Safer. Yeah."

Something about his face seemed familiar, but God couldn't put his finger on what that something was. He didn't know any Cains - at least not in any recent years - so he decided it was a coincidence or some kind of family resemblance. He was too drunk to really think things through.

"I don't know if I believe in it either," he agreed. "Fate's so stupid. Everyone thinks someone else has some great plan for them, but they don't. You make your own plan, and then people criticize you when you don't live up to expectations."

He rolled over so he was directly facing Cain, instead of just catching glimpses of him while looking up at the ceiling. His mask was starting to get a little crooked, but he didn't bother to fix it.

"Less people is better, too," he agreed. "I like doing some things alone. But then sometimes I don't, and I start questioning why I wanted to be a loner, because being a loner isn't any fun at all when you've got all the paperwork."

"They just use the excuse of a plan t-to not take responsibility for their...their shhhit," he replied, putting his hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling instead of at the man next to him. Eye contact had never been one of his strong points. Cornyx's social skills were naturally all but null, and the drunkenness didn't help him in remembering to use them.

"I ask that queshtion sometimes," he murmured. "But then I start remembering why and then I decide it's not worth the...trouble. No. I'd rather forget and jusht...not ask why."

"If we were at the bar, I'd drink to that," he said. He moved a little closer to Cain - it wasn't intentional, but it just felt right. He rested a hand out so it was almost touching Cain's hair; if the other man moved any closer to him, his strangely familiar hair would be resting in God's hand.

"The ones that have always gotten me," he continued, "are the murderers or cult leaders who say that they're doing it for some higher cause - it disgusts me that they drag people's faith in the mud like that. God and Lucifer weren't whispering in their ears - it was all them."

He thought over his comment for a moment.

"...It's like in Good Omens," he said. "Aziraphale - no, Crowley said something about taking responsibility for all of the stupid, messy things humans did, even though he didn't even raise a finger. I...I relate to him on a spiritual level. I didn't ask for any of this, yet here I am, doing things I could honestly care less about."

Cornyx nodded in agreement. That was just petty. Even he, who'd done terrible things, looked down on that. He knew what he did and he understood it and he took responsibility for it. He didn't cop out or pretend it was right.

"I do a lot of things," he murmured, "and I think I care. I dunno. I dunno if I've cared about anything for a long time." A pause, then he changed subjects. "That's the worst part about human nature. There aren't monsters to blame. Itsh justh....just thehm. Us. It's all just...us."

"Yeah," he quietly said. "It's just us."

He thought over that for a minute. He was still drunk - too drunk to really question why he was having this conversation and figure out just who he was talking to - but he still could think about the implications of what they were saying.

He took a deep breath, stretching his fingers out a little - their tips just barely touching the tips of Cain's hair.

"But I think that's the beautiful thing about humanity," he said. "I know I'm being cliché, and sound stupid admitting this. But it's true. Humans - we-" Because he had to pretend for a little while longer that he was just as human as Cain was. "-don't have monsters to fight when things go wrong. We can just fix them if we have to."

The happy look on his face faded.

"...But no one seems to realize that anymore," he said. "They just keep waiting for the powers that be to fix their problems, and - spoiler alert - God doesn't know how to deal with the shit show humanity concocts, and it's not his fault when they get mad at him for not giving them all of the answers. Because maybe God doesn't know, and it's really stressing him out when people keep demanding things he can't give."

"Humanity just wants to blame someone else," he said. "Because life sucks and they'd rather have faith or some shit instead of accepting that there's nothing there and they're just...powerless o-or alone or have to fix things themselves. That it has nothing to do with the Devil and that humans are just...cruel. Yeah."

He moved away a little at the touch, although it was subtle and seemingly subconscious for the demon.

Sensing Cain's discomfort, he drew his hand back a little.

"I shouldn't be saying this," he said. He covered his face with his other hand as he remembered that he couldn't be himself right now - he wasn't supposed to be admitting this much, even if he was drunk and Cain probably wouldn't remember much of this night in the morning.

He'd just be a one night stand - that was the right word, wasn't it? Gabriel knew more about this than he did. Gabriel was the demon who probably was partially an incubus, seeing that he had a lot more experience and comfort with situations like this.

"I'm supposed to have faith," he said. "I'm supposed to be a perfect priest right now, not-not laying in bed with someone who's supposed to be a stranger, and not talking about my personal life in a way that shows just how little of a man of faith I am."

He moved his hand away, his mask now readjusted by the small movement.

"But I don't want to stop," he said. He could smell the alcohol on Cain's breath, could see how drunk he was when he moved - did Cain see the same thing when he looked at him, too? "I-I like being with you, Cain. You make me feel good. Like I've known you for a long, long time, even though we just met in a bar. I...I never thought I'd find someone like that."

He paused, his rambling coming to a temporary conclusion when he realized how much he might have just given away.

"Can we...can we stay like this a little longer?" he asked. He looked over at Cain again, trying to study his face. "Please don't go - I'm not ready for you to yet, Cain. We've only just met - it always goes by so fast. I...I just want it to all slow down for once. I want to live in the moment."

Familiarity.

He was familiar, although Cornyx couldn't pin down why. But he liked him. Very much. And, for some reason, on some level, he felt safe. That was rare. He just assumed everyone would hurt him, and then he hurt them first, and rose higher on his throne for every body that came beneath his feet.

"Yeah," he said after a moment. "We can stay like this."