"I want to make it work..."

After that hot confession – my mind still replays the words he uttered, that he loves me too, and the smile on my face can't be wiped off. That demon has smug smile attached on his lips, and he's too proud, we decided to go back to our little ol' home in Brooklyn.

I'm not really sure what happens next. The dilemma that I have? He's a demon, and I'm an angel. Now if this is known to the world, to my world and to his world, this is the history that will never be uttered to the new generation of angels and demons. The love we've had for each other, will never be accepted. Angels and demons will continue to fight each other for the throne, to be the best, to be known as the strongest race. And I want to change that. I want to change the world now. I want to change the perspective of the angels about the demons – they can change, just like Slate did. I've been saying, if you were to tell me this story about an angel falling for a demon when I was still in my old home, I'd seriously tell you that you need God's healing or else you're being crazy. Because that how it worked, until it wasn't, until I met him.

"What's wrong, love?" Slate asks me, breaking my reverie. I didn't notice that I've been frowning as we travel. I'm not really sure where we are – we're in some kind of other dimension. Everything is distorted, and too much looking makes me dizzy. He notices the expression that I have and gives me a smile. "Just hold my hand tight. This will be over soon. We'll be back in Brooklyn before you even know it."

Nodding, I shut my eyes and do what he says – I hold his hand tight, as if I'm holding on for my dear life. His hand is warm and so soft. My hand fits in his, like it's purposely made for us to hold hands. Just holding his hand is enough for me to not worry about the thoughts that I've had, even just for a while.

This travelling is still making me completely dizzy. I wish there's a medicine I could take just to make it stop, and truthfully, holding his hand makes everything feel better, but not enough to stop my head from hurting. But it's enough for me to bear the pain. I let out a sigh, keeping my eyes shut, as if that would stop the pain and dizziness I'm feeling. Slate squeezes my hand, and I peek just to see him looking at me with a worried expression plastered on his face. I give him a smile – a smile that tells I'm just going to be okay as long as he's beside me. That's enough to make him stop worrying. He does something I'm not sure, but I guess we travel faster than we are, because everything just flashes, and then... we're in one of the secluded alleys of Brooklyn.

The sun has gone asleep. There's a cat meowing at me, and when his green eyes turn to Slate, he hisses and runs deep into the dark alley. When I turn to look up at the moon, I nearly stumble to the ground, but Slate's quick reflexes just save me from that. His arm curls around my body, pushing me into him. He saves me like he's some sort of a superstar, born to do actions. Slate winks at me and guides me to stand properly. I put my hand on his shoulder. My legs feel like a Jell-O, like in any moment, it would wobble and I'd fall down again. But Slate's arm never leaves my body. He supports me, like he always does.

"Can you walk?" he asks me, looking at me straight in the eye. "Or should I just carry you? I don't want to use any more of my travel magic because that'd make you dizzier, and I don't want that. Our home is just a couple of streets away, two or three streets."

Slate carrying me is not really a bad idea, but I'm wondering what the reactions of the people would be. Same-sex relationship is kind of a hot topic in this world, so some people would be really judgmental about seeing us. The least thing that I want to happen is Slate snapping out and using his otherworldly power just to put consequences.

"I'm fine," we both say in the same time. Slate rolls his eyes, lowers his knees, and puts his arm inside my legs and the other one around my body. I'm forced to sling my arms around his neck and I yelp. He smirks, winking at me again, to which I roll my eyes. Slate lets out a chuckle. "You know you're a bad liar. Really. Don't worry about other people seeing us like this. I don't give a fuck about them, and neither should you."

"Language, sir." I say.

He bursts out laughing, shaking his head. "Seriously you're human. At least right now. You're bound to make mistakes, to curse, to judge other people, to hate. Trust me, a lot of people are doing that. And has your kind ever disregarded them? No. So, don't worry about all the nonsense bullshits. Plus, you've got me. Your hottest demon boyfriend ever."

"Hottest demon boyfriend ever? Really, you've come up with that?" I say, raising my eyebrow at him. I can't lie though. Slate is my first boyfriend, and probably will be my last. So he is, in fact, my hottest demon boyfriend. Though I can't agree with the way he describes himself to me. Knowing him, he'd be so smug about it. I'd probably get an earful about it once we get home. So it's best to keep my mouth shut. Slate nods his head, smiling widely. "You know, that's the worst. More like, stinking, lamest demon boyfriend ever."

"Wait til' we get home, Adrian. Just wait and see."

The ride on the elevator is quiet, like really, really quiet. I'm feeling awkward, to be honest. Ever since he told me to 'just wait and see', I feel like he has something up his sleeves. Slate can be cruel when it comes to giving punishments – and we all know what those punishments are. Sex slave. Uh-uh. That can't be good. While I enjoy, um, that pleasure, I see that he's going to make everything hard. And the sad thing is, I'm kind of excited to experience that, but... God, I hate how I'm sounding. I'm sounding like a pervert, like a man that has been deprived of sexual pleasure for years.

"What the fuck?" His voice wakes me up from my trance. My instinct is telling me to scold him, but then when my eyes see what's in front of us, my mouth agapes.

The chairs, the tables, the cabinets, they are all turned over. Our home is a complete mess. Shred of broken glasses are on the floor, gleaming deadly. There are even some streaks of blood on some of it. The sofas are all torn up. The television is on the ground, crushed and it seems like it has exploded. This unit has been rummaged, as if they were looking for something important. It couldn't be the thieves or else it would have already been reported. Plus, it doesn't seem like something important is missing. But then again, we haven't looked around the unit yet.

Slate is seething. His eyes are red, and his fists are clenching and unclenching. There's so much rage in his system right now that I back off a little. I know that he's not going to hurt me, but sometimes, when in rage, we do things that we're not aware of. It takes a lot of self-control to stop yourself.

Carefully I take a step forward, putting my hand over his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Slate has been living here in this house for as long as I remember, so I think this place is really important to him. And if he knows whoever did this, he better pray because Slate wouldn't let this past. He would get to the bottom of this and get his revenge. Demons are like that. And to be honest, I wouldn't stop him. This place has become a sanctuary to me – a place that I can call my home. Our home. How could just someone barge here, in this unit – a unit that belongs to one of the most powerful demons, and cause havoc? Clearly they are asking for some action, and they have already signed their death sentence.

"I swear to Satan, whoever fucking did this, I'll fucking kill them." His voice is deep, and you can clearly hear the poison in it. It makes me shiver. "And I think I've got an idea who the culprit is."

As I'm about to open my mouth to say something, one of the glass windows break. Actually, they are all broken now. Our heads snap to the right. The magnificent view of Brooklyn, especially at night, greets us, but then we both see it. At first, it looks like a huge cotton ball floating, but then it ascends, which gives us a complete view of its white wings. As the creature ascends, white wings flapping wildly, my eyes widen. That angel is no other than my best bud, Leandre Bonavi.

"Leandre?" I ask him, taking a step forward. I'm ready to bolt, to open my arms wide and jump into my best friend to see if he's really real, that he's really in front of me, when a hand stops me. Slate's hand stops me from running into my best friend. I turn around and see him seething as his eyes turn into Leandre. "Slate, no. He's my best friend."

My best friend lifts himself, then lands on his feet on the floor, facing us. He has changed a lot. I can tell. I just don't know if it's because he has already someone in his life that loves him deeply.

"A demon, really, Adrian?" Leandre asks me, arching his brow and crossing his arms across his chest. He has gained muscles, too, I guess from training. Of course he'd train himself. His boyfriend is a werewolf. "So he's the reason why you're not going home? Oh hey demon. I just remember, tell your friends to not cause any havoc here."

"What?" Slate asks rather rudely, giving my best friend a death stare.

I wish Leandre wouldn't say anything that would completely piss Slate off because I don't know how I'd handle this when they fight. Leandre is my best friend, a brother that I really never had while Slate is my boyfriend. A demon boyfriend. A demon that I've come to love.

"There was a demonic activity here, Adrian." Leandre's jaw clenches, then returns Slate's deathly stare. "All of the people in the building were getting sick and we had to save them. Everything's not going well, Adrian. And every angel has to come down here to help the mortals. It seemed like it was kind of a ritual. I had to use every ounce of my power just to stop them. Before I got to them, they vanished. We have to leave, Adrian. You must come with us."

"No, he's not going anywhere with you!" My boyfriend literally barks. His arms go around protectively around me, as if Leandre is some kind of a huge threat. Leandre, for some reason, doesn't stand back. He stills, giving my boyfriend a death glare. And he looks like a psychopath. Really. I know, I'm the worst friend ever. "He's mine, and will always be mine. Tell your kind that –" Something glows in Slate's room and his eyes widen. "Shit." Before we know it, everything is exploding all at once.

Slate's wings pops wide open, his arms tightening around me. I want to scream, but I can't seem to do so. My ears hurt from the explosion. I hear Leandre's voice telling us to move. There's so much that's happening right now, and I can't focus. Slate is whispering something in my ear that I can't quite catch – I guess it's some kind of soothing words that would comfort me.

Then everything goes black...