The World Before: MM Romance

by Primrose, Ella

  Everything is gray. Brath’s socks are the only drops of color. It looks like somebody has picked them up and dropped them into a black and white film. There might be a possibility that Mathieu is losing his mind right about now.

  “Oh my God,” Jakob breathes.

  And all Mathieu can think is that Brath would find that funny if Brath were paying any attention to them, but he isn’t because his back is turned to them, eyes apparently glued to someone on the other side of the road. Some guy in the same clothes Perry is always wearing. Another cherub, an angel or heavenly creature and he is almost as white as the coat he’s got draped over his shoulders, with bare feet and bright eyes. Bright, yes, but not as bright as whatever that thing is he is holding in his hand.

  A ball of light. A miniature sun.

  “What the hell is going on?” is all that Mathieu can mutter because he feels the earth spinning beneath his feet and he does not like it. He also doesn’t appreciate everybody ignoring his question.

  He thinks it’s kind of essential that if these things keep happening, somebody should start filling him in; he’s starting to feel like an idiot. Hell, even Jakob is ignoring him when Mathieu nudges him with his elbow while everyone is busy staring in silence; at the guy or the thing he’s carrying, Mathieu doesn’t know. But Jakob is looking at him, definitely, looking at him like he’s the second coming of Christ.

  He nudges Jakob again. “Is that?”

  “Andrew,” Brath speaks up suddenly, addressing the visitor who has drenched everything in hues of gray. Maybe it’s a coincidence that there are no people around all of a sudden, but Mathieu doubts it.

  Jakob is in a trance, Mathieu attempts to step forward, but Perry stretches his abnormally long arm right across their chests. His gaze does not falter, but it’s clear he is addressing them.

  “Don’t move,” he says with an unusually tight and serious voice.

  “What are you do—” Mathieu starts, then calls out. “Brath!”

  Brath does move, but he only throws a quick glance over his shoulder, eyes barely registering them before they are yet again focused on Andrew and his ball of light. He takes a step closer, and Mathieu has a gut feeling that something is not right, with Brath, with this situation, with everything.

  “Andrew,” Brath presses on, and Mathieu knows that tone, knows that Brath is growing frustrated and impatient and it is never a good thing if that happens. “Give it to me.”

  Andrew looks down at the glowing ball of light in his hands and Mathieu realizes that he is trembling. His entire body is shaking like a leaf, and he takes a half-step back, hesitating, and lifting his eyes to meet Brath’s again.

  “You told me to get it for you,” he says quietly and yet somehow, his voice echoes across the street. “I looked for it. It took me a long time to find it. But I did. And now here it is.”

  “I can see that,” and Brath takes another step, making Andrew flinch visibly and Mathieu is slowly but steadily losing the ground beneath his feet. He feels dizzy. “Now. Give it to me.”

  Mathieu wants to move forward again, just take Brath’s hand, shake him and drag him away and back to his place. But Perry’s arm is solid as a rock.

  “I said don’t move,” Perry says, voice dropped. “It’s better if you remain still. And silent.”

  He wants to protest, he really does, but he guesses his instincts kick in and this does feel like something no mortal should get involved in. Maybe that thing Jakob’s old lover is holding is like a nuclear bomb.

  Brath is still there, and he’s ignoring him, and he wants whatever the thing is.

  “How will I know,” Andrew breaks through the tense silence, “that you will keep up your end of the bargain?”

  What bargain? Mathieu thinks just as Brath answers.

  “You will just have to trust me,” he says, and Mathieu can practically hear the smirk he is wearing on his lips. “And I will only say this once again: give it to me.”

  A low grumble reaches his ears. The small pebbles lying on the pavement and in the street start stirring and trembling. Andrew looks at the glowing sphere in his hands once more, biting his lip in a human gesture. He stretches out his arms. Mathieu can see Brath tense; he can see him reaching for it, and the grumbling sound grows to a roar violent enough to make windows break. Then Brath dips his hand in the light.

  There is a bright flash; a shockwave slaps his body, and Mathieu gets thrown back. He stumbles and falls to the ground, Jakob, and even Perry fall. In his confused mind, out of the corners of his bleary and clouded eyes, he can see a dark figure shrouded by shadows that look disturbingly like wings…

  Mathieu thinks he’s hit his head pretty hard and surely there are no wings, there absolutely cannot be any wings.

  Pushing himself up onto his hands and knees, Mathieu groans, almost hurls, because whatever has just hit him—it felt unreal. And maybe it is. He wants to call out, but his throat is tight and his voice mute, and he can barely see that his own hands are coated in gray dust.

  Brath and Andrew are still standing there, and he has no clue what just happened and what is going on right this moment, but just judging from the expression on the angel’s face—it’s nothing good. He looks downright terrified. And the fact that Brath is the one he is looking at—Mathieu cuts himself off, does not want to go down that road with that inevitable ending and maybe he’s an idiot, an idiot head over heels for someone who terrifies angels, but this… this can’t be what he thinks it is. It just can’t. Mathieu refuses. He doesn’t think it works that way but—he just refuses.

  Coughing, he tries to get to his feet, fails and falls back just as Brath starts to move with steady steps. Andrew is backing off, and he is trying to get away from Brath and then oddly enough, he goes down too; falls like any regular person would and Brath has to turn and angle his body to face Andrew head on and his face, his eyes—he scares Mathieu too.

  Brath smiles a cruel smile, so cold that Mathieu can feel the chill on his skin as Brath reaches out for Andrew, the glowing ball tightly pressed to his chest with his left hand.

  “You fool, Thank you.” he says and touches Andrew’s right temple with his finger.

  Andrew’s body slumps lifelessly to the side, and Brath disappears with a flash of light.

  18

  Mathieu

  When Mathieu comes to, he hadn’t been aware of being out of it at all. But he opens his eyes, and he’s on his back, and there are three pairs of eyes looking at him worriedly. Two, he recognizes, the other—now he remembers. He tries to sit up, but Jakob places a firm hand on his sternum.

  “Take it easy,” Jakob tells him. “I think you need a few minutes.”

  “I don’t,” Mathieu is quick to disagree, trying to ignore the fact that despite his concerned expression, Jakob is glowing, most definitely thanks to the sheer presence of his cherub lover. Mathieu has no idea what just happened, but he knows that Andrew is here and Brath isn’t, and it’s just not right.

  “You do,” Perry joins in, rocking back and forth on his heels. “You got hit, twice, by something that your mortal shell should never be exposed to. Brath used to kill people with that.”

  “He used to—what? Kill people with what?”

  “With his sword.”

  Mathieu turns his head so fast his neck cracks. “That was not a sword,” he throws into Andrew’s direction. “That was… well, I don’t know what it was, but it was not a sword.”

  “Not technically,” Andrew replies. “It’s not an object of any kind. It’s the rawest form of energy that you can’t even imagine. It’s raw and sharp, and only archangels can possess and wield it. It’s why it’s called their sword.”

  “Brilliant,” Mathieu says and finally manages to sit up. His head is still swimming and his vision blacks out for a moment, but he doesn’t throw up, and he remains upright, so he isn’t going to complain. He glances around, finds that he is on the floor in the coffee shop.

  The interior is still dip
ped in gray, for whatever reason, and now he can see Gareth and Keith in a corner, still curled into embryo position, looking pale and ironically close to death.

  “Right,” he says with a heavy sigh, “Before someone is going to answer my questions about everything else, what happened to these two? And why aren’t there any colors?”

  “Time has frozen,” Andrew says like that explains anything, but thankfully, he is fast to continue. “It happens when an archangel descends, and they are the only ones who can do it. Our spheres are delicately connected and for an archangel’s presence not to disturb your world, he has to still it. It seems to have only happened because I was carrying Brath’s sword.” His eyes flicker towards Keith and Gareth. “This place is now surrounded by an archangel’s grace. It resembles Heaven more than Earth at this point, and their souls are so tattered and incomplete that it pains them.”

  “Can you make it stop? Because looking at them like that, that’s just cruel.”

  “I,” Andrew starts and stops. “I’m afraid I can’t. I’m afraid I—” and he breaks off again, lowers his gaze to his hands that are tightly gripping his pant legs, delicate and pale, and he is still barefooted, and goosebumps are covering his skin like he’s… like he’s cold. Now that Mathieu looks closer, he can see veins shimmering beneath his skin and a faint blush adorning Andrew's cheeks.

  Mathieu rushes to his feet, takes a couple of quick steps until his back hits the front door of the coffee shop.

  “Then, what else is going on here?” Mathieu asks.

  “Mathieu,” Jakob says, “please stay calm.”

  “I seriously do not have it in me to remain calm anymore, all right?” He’s talking himself into a frenzy, but there is this torrent of words stuck right in his throat, and it needs to come out if Mathieu doesn’t want to choke on it. “My best friend turns into a living corpse, and I don’t bat an eyelash. I support him, and I am patient with him. Then it turns out that the reason he was an actual zombie, was because some archangel took away his memory as punishment for falling in love with a fucking cupid-like angel. And I think, considering, I stayed pretty calm. Then the guy I am seeing tells me he is the Angel of Death, and I keep dating him, I stay considerably calm then too, even when I realize that I love him and he loves me, and it will still never work out simply because I’ll die. Even then, I didn’t bat an eyelash.” Mathieu breathes heavily, pulse racing and blood boiling. “So now, my best friend’s angel boyfriend drops down from heaven with a strange sword in his hand, and my boyfriend disappears with it, and suddenly I’m knocked out and he,” he points at Andrew, “is now a human. I think I’ve earned myself a damn freak-out!” Their silence is agreement enough. But Mathieu is not done. “And now,” he says. “Tell me where Brath is. If he’s got his sword, doesn’t that mean he’s the Angel of Death again? Back in the job? Because I—I just let him go like this, all right? I need to at least talk to him.”

  “He is now what he used to be,” Andrew answers cryptically. “The Angel of Death in all but position. But I do not know where he is now.”

  “Great,” Mathieu scoffs and turns to Perry. “How about you? Can you, I don’t know, do your angel-beaming stuff and find him?”

  “Not now. Not while we are stuck in Limbo.”

  “So that’s it.” Mathieu is starting to feel light-headed again. “That’s just…that’s just supposed to be it, huh? He’s just gone. And I guess I’m supposed to be fine with that. Brilliant. This is just fucking brilliant,” and he tries to will the sting in his eyes away, tries to suppress that throbbing numbness rapidly spreading from his chest, but he can’t. And he is glad that his back is already against the wall because he doubts he could remain upright otherwise.

  Jakob walks up to him and twitches like he wants to give Mathieu a hug, but Mathieu doesn’t want him even to try, not now, not ever.

  “Oh fuck,” he breathes and presses his fist to his lips, mumbles into his skin.

  “I know how it feels,” Jakob tells him. “Believe me, Mathieu. I know how it feels,” like that’s any comfort to him.

  “The hell you do. You had no idea that you’d lost anything at all. You were just a miserable puddle and look at you, look at your cupid lover, waltzing in, becoming human to stay with you. Your problems are all solved, aren’t they?” He sneers and puts a hand to Jakob’s chest to stop him from getting closer. “You talked about a bargain, hm?” he throws over to Andrew. “Worked out well, didn’t it? You should be ecstatic.”

  Before anyone can comment on it, a laugh sounds from the corner of the room, labored and hollowed. Gareth is blinking at them with bloodshot eyes. Mathieu had almost forgotten that the demons are still present.

  “What?” Mathieu snaps because this is not funny. He doesn’t care if some weird angel stuff is frying his brain if Gareth keeps laughing; he is going to lose his mind—more than he’s losing it already.

  The demon drags his body up into a sitting position, lets his head drop back against the wall, baring his teeth as he smiles and his corner teeth somehow seem longer than before.

  “You think this was his bargain?” he says, voice barely above a whisper, hoarse and strained, and he looks straight at Andrew. “You think you were the receiving end of the deal?” He snorts out another laugh, nudges Keith with his elbow, and the other demon manages a weak but taunting smirk. “You are a puppet. A foot soldier. A worthless pawn.”

  Andrew approaches Gareth, but then he seems to realize that between the two of them, he doesn’t have the upper hand, not anymore. He stops halfway between him and Perry who has been more serious and quiet than Mathieu’s ever seen him.

  “What do you know?”

  “Everything,” Gareth answers and now Mathieu wants to laugh too.

  “Perfect,” he finds himself commenting before he can think better of it. “The castaway demon, who spends most of his time baking, is better informed than the entity of Heaven. That’s a good one.”

  “Well,” Perry throws in hesitantly, “we did always suspect that Brath was up to something.”

  “You can tell me, Gareth,” says Mathieu, “Brath’s gone for good, isn’t he?”

  “He’s not gone,” Gareth says. “He’s just… off, for now, I guess. Enjoying what he didn’t have for the past couple thousand years. He’s going to come back. For you.”

  “For me,” Mathieu repeats numbly and blinks.

  A commotion behind him startles him, yet before he can turn around, Perry has pushed him to the side and is winding his hand around Gareth’s neck, pressing down. Gareth yelps and his eyes flash darkly, and Mathieu is too stunned to do anything but stare.

  “What do you know?” Perry commands in what Mathieu assumes to be his authoritative angel voice, and he finally gets a grip, regains his balance and pushes at Perry.

  “Have you lost your mind? You’re—” He wants to say, ‘killing him,' but that isn't accurate, so he corrects himself. “You’re hurting him. He’s not going to say anything this way.” Turning around, he gives Jakob and Andrew a pointed look.

  “Perry,” Andrew says then. “Stop it. This is no way to behave.”

  Perhaps it’s an angel authority thing, but Perry does let go, and Gareth seems instantly relieved, rubbing his flaming red neck. But he stays quiet, doesn’t utter another single word and maybe Perry squeezed too tight and crushed his vocal chords in the process. However, Mathieu’s mind is still kind of stuck on the fact that Brath is supposed to be returning shortly; that he is going to come back for him. And he instantly feels more relieved, and a heavy weight lifts off his shoulders. But there is a quiet voice in the back of his mind telling him he shouldn’t get too excited.

  Mathieu thinks he’s got a fair idea of what might happen when Brath does come back.

  Out of the blue, icy fingers encircle his wrist. Keith.

  “You care for him, don’t you?” he asks Mathieu with wide eyes. “You wouldn’t let anything happen to him, right?”

  “I do. And I wouldn’t
.”

  Keith nods and smiles tightly. “He cares for you too, you know? He might not tell you, but don’t hold that against him. He doesn’t know how. He doesn’t know nice of things and he’s so angry all the time, but he doesn’t mean to be.”

  Mathieu interrupts him, covering Keith’s trembling fingers with his own. “I know.”

  “I owe him everything. Promise me you won’t let them kill him.”

  “Why would anyone—”

  “They will. Brath thinks he’s going to be fine, but he won’t. And they’re going to kill him. Either his Father or his brother,” and Keith looks Mathieu dead in the eye. Mathieu can sense Jakob and Andrew hovering behind him, and Perry to his side. “Brath is going to open the gates of Hell,” he says. “And he is going to free Lucifer from his chains.”

  * * *

  “Right.” Mathieu puts his hands on the table they had just a short while ago played cards at without a single care in the world. Gareth is still lying on the floor, barely able to keep his eyes open and Keith has put a bag of ice on his forehead, claiming that it was going to help. Mathieu is in no position to question Keith on his demon-sitting abilities. They’ve got more important matters to talk about anyway.

  “How about a quick recap. Brath has tricked Andrew here into stealing his sword, making him all-powerful again and in return, he turned him into a powerless human. Right now he’s off doing God knows what, but he does plan to unleash the Devil himself to carry out his revenge on Heaven. And nobody knows what to do about it, right? Am I missing something?”

  “Unfortunately no,” Perry replies.

  “Right,” Mathieu sighs. “And just to be clear: all this shit goes down, time still frozen and all, and nobody up there bothers to check in on us? They don’t see that they’ve got trouble heading their way?”

  “They’re always slow to react,” Andrew says. “Even if they have noticed something is amiss, they’re more inclined towards letting the problems solve themselves.”