After the Mission [Acheron & Ikaros]

Acheron had never been to the Haling Dove and now he understood why. Life was more beautiful here. Worth more. There was no trash littering the streets and no stray animals to search through it. There was nature here. In Erast there was only the occasional dandelion managing to peek through the cracked concrete, nothing like the pristine gardens of these neighborhoods. As the evening went by, the sunset had turned into a starry sky, the moon reflected  in a small lake, the branches of a willow tree kissing its surface. He might’ve enjoyed the quiet of the park under different circumstances. In the darkened park Acheron was tempted to pretend he, too, was beautiful. But he didn’t fit in here.

He had been utterly humiliated tonight. The bouncers had even laughed at him before threatening to call the authorities. At first, he had been angry. All that money wasted. All that effort, for nothing. The mafia had made a fool out of him. But after hours pacing the park, the dread had set  in. He had considered disappearing, never to be seen again. But he couldn’t let Ikaros down twice in one night. After all he had done for him. The money, the food, the attention. Acheron didn’t deserve any of it. What an ungrateful demon he was for even considering that.

Sitting on a bench, swallowed by a suit that was several sizes too big – he hadn’t had the time to take up that offer to have it tailored –he wished he could retreat into the expensive fabric and cease to exist. The mafia had failed him. He had failed his mission. And in turn, he had failed Ikaros.

I believe in you, Ache. You better prove me right. He had failed Ikaros. He curled in on himself on the bench, a tight knot in his stomach, leg bouncing up and down. What was he going to do if Ikaros decided he didn’t want anything to do with him now? He was never getting off the street, was he? He would die there. He felt sick by the time he felt the approach of a familiar, heavy spirit. Then he was back to wishing he could just disappear.

It took all his willpower to stand and face the slowly approaching footsteps, holding his breath and willing his back to straighten. He crossed his arms, averting his gaze to the pale reflection of the moon as he tried to calm his heart rate. Maybe he wouldn’t be that angry with him? What could he do but hope?