The barn was old but sturdy, thick with the scents of wood and hay, and the faint ash from the forge that Eli hardly ever used. Rain tapped gently against the roof outside, but inside, the world had gone still. Eli stood at the door with a lantern in hand, casting a warm glow across the shadows. Amon was there, still crouched in the far corner, the blanket now hanging loose across his lower half, unveiling the long lines of his back.
And the scars.
Eli caught glimpses of them earlier — but now, in this amber light, they were utterly different. Two long ridges beneath Amon's shoulder blades, like wings that had been there once, torn out by brutal hands devoid of mercy. The flesh was rotten and silver at places, fresher elsewhere, like he never could make up his mind completely.
"You stare," Amon murmured but did not look up.
Eli jolted. "Sorry."
"Too bad. You have never seen a person like me."
"No," Eli admitted. "I haven't."
Amon was turning around then, rising slowly. He was tall-he was taller than any man Eli had ever seen. He moved like a cat: slow, passionate, and quiet. Those eyes still glowed, but they appeared softer in this light. It was more tired than going-for-the-kill kind.
"Tell me something," Amon said as he stepped closer. "Why did you really bring me here?"
Eli paused. "Because you needed help."
A faint smile curled on Amon's lips, almost melancholic. "Men don't help strangers out in the woods for kindness any longer."
"I am not most men," Eli said.
"No," Amon agreed. "You are not."
They joined gazes. Dangerous, that look. Not because Amon was threatening him, but because he felt seen in a way he never had before.
"I don't know where I came from," Amon said finally. "Not really. But I remember fire. I remember screaming. And I remember falling."
Eli furrowed his brow. "Falling?"
Amon sauntered almost to the barn edge, thus leaning against that beam holding it up. "They said I was too curious. They said I loved too much. They said I cared for the wrong things. That made one a traitor in the heavens."
Eli stared at him with wide eyes. "Heaven?"
Amon would not directly reply. "They tore out my wings, Eli. And then left me to burn."
Eli really could feel that truth establishing its hold between the two of them.
"You are an angel?"
"Something like that," Amon replied. "Or I was. Now I am just a story that mothers tell their children for behavior correction. A villain in every myth."
"But then, I don't think you are a villain," Eli took a step closer.
Amon tilted his head. "You should."
"I see someone broken. Not Evil."
"Broken things can't scare Eli," Amon said quietly. "They have nothing to lose."
Suddenly, the wind howled outside. Eli swung around, instinctively moving toward the door but Amon caught his wrist.
"Don't go."
Eli looked down at where Amon touched him. His fingers were long and cool, but there was heat behind them. Like a furnace beneath still water.
"Stay," Amon said again, his voice lower now. "Just for a moment."
Eli nodded slowly, and Amon released him.
They sat in silence. Eli on a hay bale, Amon by his side on the ground. And the storm picked up outside once again, thunder rumbling like a heavy memory. Eli felt that tension in the air between them, coiled and ready to spring.
"Do you miss it?" Eli asked.
Amon didn't have ask what exactly because he wasn't interested in it. "No. Heaven has not in reality been the books say."
"What is it?"
"Perfect, but perfection is cold; empty; no feeling; no choice. You are expected to love, but only as commanded. I disobeyed."
"Why?"
Amon's voice dropped to a whisper. "Because I fell in love with freedom."
Eli swallowed. "You fell in love."
Amon looked up at him. "Yes."
"With who?"
"I don't even remember his name anymore. But he was... pure. Mortal. Like you."
Hot rushed into Eli's cheeks, heart racing. "And they punished you for that?"
Amon's eyes shone like stars. "Inter-love of my kind and your kind is taboo. For it is real. Not programmed."
It made the air thick between them.
"And now?" Eli asked, trying hard to maintain his voice level.
"Now..." Amon leaned into him, mouth nearly brushing Eli's. "Now I don't know what I'm doing. But being here, next to you, feels right. Like fire finding its flame."
Eli's breath hitched. He should have moved back. He should have said something clever, something safe.
But instead, he whispered, "I feel it too."
Amon's fingers brushed Eli's cheek. Softly. So gently it felt unreal. Then lower, trailing down his jaw. His touch wasn't urgent-it was reverent, like Eli was something sacred.
"I shouldn't," Amon whispered.
"But you want to?"
"Yes."
And then, Amon kissed him.
It wasn't a plea or demand. Not luster. Very, very slowly; the kiss was searching, as if to remember something lost thousands of years ago and finally found again.
Eli acted before he thought, his soft skin, the quiet thrum of power beneath, feeling Amon's chest.
The kiss broke. Amon rested his head against Eli.
"I don't want to hurt you," he said.
"You haven't."
"Yet."
And just like that, Amon stood. He pulled the blanket tighter around himself and turned away.
"You should go inside," he said. "Before I forget that I am trying to be gentle."
Eli stumbled back, heart racing. What just happened, and even more importantly, what it all meant, was running through his head in confusion.
But more importantly, he did know one thing: I do not want to leave.
Not with me. Not ever.