Multifandom Stuff

 Stan, the once berated and shunned man, switched places with Ford. He gave himself away to save everyone and everything he loved. You begged him not to, that you all could figure something else out. But the back of your mind knew there was no other way.

 And when you saw the memory gun aimed at him, you had to look away.

 When you looked back, he was gone.

 His eyes were so empty when he finally came to.

 He looked around, still on his knees. It was like he never saw this place before. You’ve only seen him this confused once before, and that’s when you said you wanted to be with him more than anything. He never thought he’d ever have someone like you, so hearing this initially stunted him.

 But now, he’ll never remember that. He no longer shares the same memories you do.

 He wasn’t the man you came to know.

“Wha- Where am I?”

 Your hands trembled as they made their way to cover your mouth. Your heart sank, and your whole body became lead. You were a statue, watching his face contort when he stares at these strangers in front of him.

“Who are you all?!” He falls back and scoots away from the group.

 You wanted to be the first to help him, but your feet couldn’t move.

 The twins eased their way to him to not scare him any more than he is now.

“Grunkle Stan…”  Mabel’s little voice cracked.

“You don’t remember us?” Dipper placed a hand on his arm.

 Stan shook his head. What are these kids talking about? What is a “Grunkle?”

 Mable couldn’t take it anymore, and broke down. 

 You were about to do the same. 

 Dipper crawled to her and hugged her tightly, allowing himself to let a few tears slip but keeping his face covered with the brim of his hat.

 Stan’s eyes darted from the kids to you and the person next to you that looked just like him.

 Soon, his gaze focused on you. His eyes grew wider and they shimmered like they did all those years ago when you first started talking to each other.

 He whistles, catcalling you like used to when he would walk in on you changing or making dinner.

“Hey there, sugar. Who’s your friend?”

 Normally, you’d laugh or scoff at his flirty antics, but this time, it brought tears to your eyes. He wasn’t pretending or messing around. This was his reality now. He really was meeting you for the first time.

 You look at Ford. Nothing was said, but it was clear that it was your turn to talk to him.

 You turn back. You wipe the tears out the corners of your eyes. You mentally prepare yourself, huffing to yourself and swallowing thickly. Once you thought you were okay, you slowly made your approach, one foot dragging in front of the other.

 The closer you got, the more he looked pleased.

 You hoped and prayed with each step you took that you’d jog something. Anything.

 You sat in front of him with your knees tucked under you. You swear your heart is going to explode out of your chest.

 He smiles. That goofy grin also used to make you laugh.

 You take a deep breath and anxiously release it.

 He has to remember you.

“Stanley, baby,” you begin.

“Do you know where you are right now?”

“No, but it’s a lot better with you here.” He clicks his tongue and lifts his eyebrows. If this was some sort of sick joke, you’ll slap that nasty smirk clean off his face and go for Ford after.

Your eyes start to pool again.

 Please, let this be a joke.

“Stan, please,” you mutter.

 You’re at a loss at what to do. You don’t want to believe it, but maybe he’s too far gone. Your denial just has to save him. You were his salvation at one point, how could he not remember you?

 You’ve loved him ever since high school when everyone saw him as a lowlife. It didn’t help that your locker was a couple doors down from his.

 He was your lab partner in chemistry. 

 It’s amazing how a lab partner turned into a life partner.

Wait…

 Your marriage! Of course! You are married to him!

 A spark of hope electrocuted through you.

“Stan, look.” You jump into action, grasping his hand with the gold band on his ring finger.

“We’re married! See?” You bring your hand up next to his. Your ring band is thinner than his, with diamonds lining the middle of it.

 Staring at it and seeing how the light catches it makes you think back to that day.

 It was a courthouse wedding. No one else showed up, but you both knew it had to be that way. You didn’t mind at all. When the deed was done and you two were official, he apologized and promised that when the right time comes he’d give you the best wedding you could ever dream of.

 But being with him was already a dream come true.

 A half smile appeared on your face. You didn’t need a wedding to solidify your love for him. You didn’t need the “official” and legal marriage. But he was old fashioned and wanted to do things right by you.

 Too bad he can’t even figure out your name.

“Woah. Today just keeps gettin’ better and better!” He looks from the rings to you.

 Your chest expanded. Could it be? Could he be coming back?

“…Who are you again?”

 These words were the dagger that stabbed and shattered your heart. You physically could no longer hold yourself together.

 You whisper his name one more time. This can’t be how this ends. He’s just messing around with you. There’s no way he doesn’t remember you. You were sure of it. You thought this would work. You knew this had to work. You can’t let go of him. You won’t let go of him. You-

 Your quivering body launches, enveloping him in an embrace that he’ll never feel again.

 You weep.

 Your lover is gone and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“…I love you so much, Stanley Pines,” you can barely make out. Your throat is closing in on itself and your face feels hot.

“What is going on? Was it something I said?” This causes you to hold him closer.

 Eventually, Ford is the one to drag you away. You put up a fight, stringing together a bunch of “no”s before wailing his name at the top of your lungs. You needed to believe that if you held him longer that he’d magically turn back. Ultimately, that wasn’t the case. What’s done is done.

 You scream and cry and beg whatever being was out there to answer your prayers.

 Ford crouches down to your curled up frame and does his best to console you. You’re on your hands and knees, nails digging into the earth as you heave. He throws his arms around you and mumbles apologies you didn’t think you’d hear in the first place.

 “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” fills your ears.

 You feel him around you, breathing catching in his throat and fingers twitching. He’s going into hysterics along with you.

 He lost his brother too, after all.

 The fact that he’s still wearing Stan’s suit…

 You clench his sleeve and pull yourself up, now grabbing the lapels and sobbing in his shoulder. It still smells like him.

 You feel the wetness of Ford’s tears on the side of your face. He palms the back of your head. He rocks you to try and soothe you, resisting the urge to burst for your sake.

“He’s a hero,” he rasps.

 The four of you continued to mourn. Stan is left dumbfounded at the sight of everyone grieving. He thinks he should do something, but he can’t piece together what. He doesn’t want to get involved and accidentally interrupt you all.

 For the rest of the town, it was a day of celebration. For the Pines family, it was a day of loss.

 It was two sides of the same coin, both sides being free from Bill’s reign.

You don’t know how it happened, but god, what a miracle it was.

 The whole Mystery Shack was empty. Everyone was out except for you and your darling Stanley.

Which led to you being fucked and thrown around like the rag doll you were.

 There’s already a huge mess trailing from your shared room. The day started off strong with some lazy morning lovemaking that then quickly escalated into a primal hunger for more.

And Stanley’s stamina could not be further from over.

 He had you on the rails of the staircase displaying yourself for him to go down on you. You were on your hands and knees in the bathroom taking his length after you said you’d “freshen up.” Both of you ran up the hot water in the shower while he pinned you against the wall, and even then, you’d warm him back up with your hands alone.

 It took a lot of convincing, willpower, and blowing to get him to finally take a break.

 You needed some time to recover, so you decided to make breakfast while he was getting dressed in his iconic suit.

 Which led you to now.

 You finished cooking by the skin of your teeth when he waltzed in and saw your figure leaning against the counter. Your oversized sleep shirt was slipping off your shoulder as you poured coffee in both your mugs. He shares a moment of sincerity, gladly taking his cup and kissing you on the top of your head. It wasn’t until he started to get a better look at you when he started getting hard again.

 Your shirt barely covered your shorts, exposing your perfect legs. They were crossed over each other, and following them up brought attention to the way you were in your relaxed state. You held your cute little mug in both hands, and as you brought it up to sip on, your eyes would close so you could savor it. Your hair was messy, but it only added to how effortlessly gorgeous you looked. And when you would look back up at him, your eyes would shimmer, like they were pleading.

 He had to take you yet again.

“…And I think the Shack- Stanley are you listening to m-“

 He attacks you, yanking you by the shoulders and plunging his tongue down your throat. Your mug drops to the floor, the sound of the shattering ceramic making you jump, but you’re not going to do anything about that. Not right now.

 Your hands flew through his hair. Your eyes were glued shut as you tried to focus on his pace and match it.

 But Stan, being the man of many surprises, asserts his dominance by lifting you and propping you on the counter, earning him a squeal from you.

 He never slowed down, even when slipping his fingers in the hem of your shorts and trying to pull them off. But you chewed his bottom lip, signaling him to stop. And he does, but with a slightly disappointed look on his face.

“Come on, love. Breakfast is getting cold.”

  You caress his face and give a half-lidded smile.

  That’s not enough to stop him though.

 He looks over his shoulder at the stove that’s covered in pans of his favorites. He then turns his attention to the table that you cutely set up.

 A part of him feels bad for what he’s about to do to you. He leans in.

“I’m not hungry for that right now, doll.”

 Before you know it, you’re being lifted yet again and are being taken to that little table, which you are then slammed onto. You are bent almost all the way over it, your ribs press into the wood.

“S-Stanley!” You exclaim.

 He’s not listening though. Not until he hears your pleasurable screams and moans for the fifth time today.

 Your shorts are torn off and thrown behind him. You hear the fateful zip of his pants.

 He grabs the back of your neck to hold you down when he rams himself in you. You gas and shudder, feeling his whole length inside you all at once.

 He starts to thrust at an already fast speed.

 The table and everything on it rocks intensely. Some of the silverware falls. You’re gripping the tablecloth like your life depended on it.

 He keeps going, pounding harder and harder into you. His winded breathing grows more into rough growling as his grip on you gets stronger. You can feel his fingernails seep into your tender flesh.

 Tears prick at the corner of your eyes but it’s not from pain. Your own breathing- gasping- sounds more like wheezing. You can’t lift your head up to gulp in air, and his whole hand just about engulfs your throat. You tried calling out to him, but he’s so caught up in pleasure that you fear he’s tuned you out.

 It’s not until you slam your hands on the table to get his attention. Even then, it takes him a minute to slow down.

“St… P-Pines,” you rasp.

 He sees what he’s doing, and he removes his hand from its position at your nape. You take this opportunity to fill your lungs as much as you can before he can move on.

 You can’t see it, but he’s wearing a bastardly smirk on his face.

“If you needed help breathing you coulda just asked!”

 He bunches his fingers through the tangles of your hair, snatching your head upwards. He resumes his aggressive prodding. You didn’t know it was possible, but he was going deeper in you.

 Your eyes roll to the back of your head and saliva pools out your pretty little mouth. Your nails dig into the wood of the table, leaving small streaks engraved in it.

 You’re choking on your own spit. Stan can’t help but go wild at the sound of your gagging, so he pulls back your hair one last time. The strength he does it with makes you think he’s going to rip your head clean off before he lets go. You falter.

“Let me give ya somethin’ to gag on again.”

He pulls you in and reaches around to find your mouth. Your jaw is clenched, but he can feel where you’ve been salivating.

“Another wet hole just waiting for me,” his gruff voice warms your bare shoulder.

“Open up.”

 You follow his command and shakily part your lips for him. He decides you aren’t quick enough and jams his fingers in anyway. His middle and ring fingers are enough to make you struggle.

 He then matches his hand to the thrust of his hips. But it’s not enough.

He recalls the way you often use your teeth… need I say more?

“Shit. Teeth, doll, teeth.”

 You obey, not because you want to, but because that’s all you can do.

 You lower jaw stutters, bottom teeth grazing them.

“Come on.” His guttural voice fills your ears.

“You can handle much more than this.”

 Your eyes squeeze shut, your mouth does the opposite.

“There we go.”

You’re getting fucked in both ends  and there’s nothing you can do about it.

 He regains that same pace as before. He groans out of ecstasy yet again, but you don’t want it to stop. If it were up to you, it would never stop.

  He thinks the same of you, hearing you once again choking him down.

 You’re his plaything to have his way with.

 You’re his-

“Doll,” he hisses.

 You softly clamp down on his girthy calloused fingers, answering him.

“I’m- hnf. Oh, I’m ‘boutta c-“

 You already know, being the good little toy you are. So you act out, hearing down on his hand and moaning the loudest you ever had so far.

 You were well aware of the magic you worked on him. That was his favorite thing about you.

 Stan groaned out again, upping his hostility with you.

 And the more rough he was, the louder you moaned.

 He enjoyed your borderline screams a little too much. But how could he not? His precious angel was singing just for him.

 He was just about balls deep when you finally felt warm on the inside once more. One last thrust, and you suddenly feel the relief of him finishing.

 You then feel him letting up. Unsteady movements and heavy panting let you know he was done. He retracts his fingers, a thick string of saliva stretches out from your lips. He wipes it off on his suit jacket.

 Cum dribbles out your gaping hole when he agonizingly pulls out.

 He tucks it back in his pants and zips them back up. You’re left convulsing on the table as you try to recuperate.

 You brace yourself against it, palms pressing into the grain, and make an attempt to hoist yourself up.

 Seeing this, he’s right by your side, snaking an arm around your waist and gently picking you up.

 Your knees buckle and you stumble forward, but before you can fall, Stan pulls you to lean on him. You clench the lapels of his blazer. The scent of sweat and cigars flood your nose.

“Easy, now. Easy. Are you okay?”

 He reaches for the tablecloth, of all things, to wrap you in. He then finds a chair, and eases you in it. You wince on contact with the hard surface, but you wave it off when you see a twinge of him fretting.

“I’m okay, dear. Just a little sore,” you half-laughed.

“I-I’m sorry, doll. You were just- And I…”

“Stanley Pines.”

 You reach out and nab him by his string tie and tug him in, his blushing face now centimeters away from yours.

“I can handle much more than that,” you sneer.

 You cup his face and initiate another kiss.

 But before anything else could happen, you hear the screeching halt of that beat up golf cart.

 He pulls away.

“Shit. We gotta get you cleaned up. You okay to walk?”

 He offers you a hand, and you stand. Albeit wobbly, you use him for support to help guide you back upstairs to the bedroom. From there, you don’t lift a finger. He carefully wipes away any fluids with a damp washcloth and helps you get dressed.

 You both were halfway down the staircase again when the front door flew open.

 The twins, Soos, and Wendy looked around in shock.

“What happened here?!” Dipper started.

“Yeah, you both look bleggh,” Mable stuck her tongue out, mocking the undead.

 You and Stan glance at each other. You both should have straightened the place up in between rounds.

“Uhh, we were-”

“Attacked!”

“By were-”

“Spiders!”

 Damn it, Stanley.

“Were-spiders! We were attacked by giant were-spiders, yeah,” it took all the strength in you not to smack him upside the head.

Thankfully, the group bought it. At least the kids did. Dipper was flipping out and Mabel darted to their room screaming. Her brother right behind her. All Soos and Wendy cared about was finding somewhere to knock out for possibly the rest of the day, too exhausted to care about anything else. They drag each other another few steps before passing out on the floor in front of you.

 You and Stanley just stand there.

“Giant were-spiders, really?”

 You break the silence and cross your arms.

“It’s better than ‘We were struck by a tornado,’”

 He shrugs. You shake your head.

 Back to silence. You both look around.

“We really need to clean this place up before anyone gets suspicious. I’m pretty sure I left my shorts in the kitchen.”

“Yeah…”

That doesn’t matter though, that’s a story for another day. He was back and that’s all you cared about.

Slurred words and laughter filled the warm night air as you both sat on the roof of the Mystery Shack. A few soda cans were strewn around, along with a couple of glasses and a bottle of your finest whiskey. You saved it for a time like this. You both had a couple of drinks already to start the night off so you’d be loose enough to talk. Because let’s be real, 30 years does something to a man. 30 years also made him the silver fox he is today and you needed a little something to distract yourself from that fact.

But enough of that now.

He was telling you about the things that Bill did to him while he was possessed.

“And then I almost got arrested for the third time! I had a real track record going then.”

You both laughed.

“I remember something like that! You went buck ass wild at one point in college,” you took a sip from your soda.

“You did a lot of stuff that I thought you would never do.”

He chuckled and shook his head.

“Yeah, I thought that too,” he rubbed the back of his neck, remembering that you attended the same university he did. You heard a lot from him.

“I also remember something about you waking up with a new tattoo,” you smiled.

Ford chokes on his drink.

You clap a hand over your mouth to try and not let out the laugh you were holding. He’s frantically sputtering and wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. His face goes red and he’s fiddling with his glasses.

“That, I wish you didn’t,” he mutters.

You really didn’t mean to embarrass him, but you both used to pick on each other way back when. He should be used to it, but with the way he deflates, you could tell that it wasn’t his proudest moment. It seemed like you struck a chord.

You playfully roll your eyes and pour yourself another drink, deciding to go ahead and make things even.

“It can’t be as bad as mine though,” you pretend to sigh.

You see your plan go into effect when he perks back up.

He tilts his head with raised brows.

“You-“

“Mhm.” You abruptly answered his almost question.

“I can show you, if you’d like,” you tempt him. It could be the drinks, it could be your newfound confidence, but that twinge of seduction in your voice had him by the-

“Yes!” He blurted.

Bingo.

You down your glass of liquid courage and slide closer to him, however, you lean back and angle your side so that it would be more visible to him.

You wink, and with slow hands, you peel your shirt upwards, stopping right under your chest.

And Ford…

…Is cowering away from your form.

His glasses were off resting beside him and he had one- no, both of his hands covering his face. To add insult to injury, he turned away from you and was hunched over, further avoiding your gaze.

It quite honestly pissed you off.

“Stanford Pines, I asked if you wanted to see it!”

You still had your shirt raised.

“I-I didn’t know it would be in a place s-so…”

He paused, trying to look for the right (respectful) word.

“Revealing.”

Your face untwisted itself from anger and relaxed to a more somber, a more understanding look.

Despite being able to irritate the crap out of you, he was still a proper gentleman. He would never look at anyone’s body without their consent. On purpose, anyway.

He was never as vulgar as his brother, Stanley.

“Stanford,” you breathe.

Seeing how he would rather not “expose you to his wandering eyes” (he has said this before when he accidentally walked in on you changing) and would refuse to look at you instead of asking you to cover up made you realize just how soft and respectable he can be. It made your heart flutter.

He peeked through his fingers, still turned away from you.

“You can look, it’s just on my side.”

He shifts.

“You’re fine with me looking?”

“Yes.”

“…Are you sure?”

“Stanford-“

“Okay! Okay.”

He uncovers his face and reaches behind him for his glasses.

“I’m about to look,” he announces as he places them on his face.

He takes a shuddering breath and calmly turns back to you.

And what he sees makes his face go red.

You have a tattoo of a unicorn bursting through a field of clouds with a rainbow shooting from its horn. It covers your rib cage almost entirely.

His eyes. You never thought they could get that wide.

There’s a second spent in awe before he looks up at you, a hand coming up to touch it before immediately halting.

“May I?”

You simply nod.

Even with you allowing him to feel you, he does so with such hesitation.

His fingers make contact with the slightly faded ink and begin to trace each line.

He feels the same way he did when he found the symbol of the prophecy.

You watch him glide his way over your once drunken mistake.

Until he hits a certain spot that makes you twitch. He stops as soon as he feels you jolt.

“I’m sorry, I-I must have-“

“No, no. It’s okay! I’m just… a little ticklish there is all,” you calm him before he has the chance to freak out.

But you may have given him an idea instead.

“Ticklish, you say?” His fingers wriggle, threatening you.

“Don’t you dare!” You release your shirt and scoot away.

Laughter rang out in the night once again. He refrained from tickling you, being a man of his nature, but he now knows a new way to get under your skin.

“You were right, you know. That was bad,” he playfully nudges your shoulder.

“Hey! Be glad you saw it, Ford!“ You chide.

“No one even suspects I have a tattoo in the first place!”

Admittedly, you never told anyone about it. Not only did no one ask about it, but you were the type to keep to yourself. You don’t reveal too much of yourself unless you get to know someone.

“Really?!”

He almost took you out from how quick his gaze met yours.

You slid back to him, right next to him, and eased your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah…”

He gently rested his head on top of yours and slowly wrapped his arm around you.

When things settled down, you both stared off to the sky. The two of you had to sober up a bit before turning in for the night.

In truth, Ford could spend the rest of his life like this with you. He won’t tell you that, though.

Not yet, anyway.

For now, he was going to take this moment and etch it in his memory for a journal entry later.

“Unicorns don’t actually look like that, by the way.”

  From then on, he did nothing but dote on you. He’d rarely leave your side, only doing so if there was a calling by the Clergy. Even then, he’d order a ghoul to take his place for the time being. It was always either the ghoulettes or Mountain. He took notes on who was the best to call on.

Did you know that Mountain imitates everything you do? When you sit, he sits in the same position you are. If you’re walking, he’s behind you with the same stride. You’re making something to eat? Cool, just let him grab the same stuff you have. He does all this to be as protective of you without being too overbearing.

 The ghoulettes, on the contrary, love to pamper you. With them, you’re always in for a spa day or some sort of general relaxation. They’ll make a space to be as comfy as possible for you. They’ll indulge in some of your hobbies from knitting to reading.

 Copia thanks whoever is with you and rewards them with all kinds of luxuries.

The nights were spent with you as close to him as you could be, wrapped in his arms. Sometimes, when he thought you were asleep, he'd scoot down and start talking to his daughter. There were countless conversations about how he would lay the world at her feet if he could. These were the times his mind would be at ease, pouring his heart out to her. He'd earn a flurry of kicks and movement in response. You could already tell she was going to be daddy's girl.

He spent everything to give you all the love you deserved, plus more.

Then, it was time.

 You spent hours working through intense pain to bring her here, with Copia at your side at all times. He was just as scared, but he did his best not to show it. He'd clench your hand about as hard as you did his. There was constant praise and encouragement, forever drilling in your mind how amazing and strong you are and how you were never more beautiful than you were in this moment.

 Any time you said “I can’t,” any time you cried out, he’d remind you of how far you’ve come.

Dawn turned to dusk, and you were so exhausted. But when the final stretch came and went with your little girl finally in your arms, you realized that you’d do it all again if it meant having her here with you both.

And Copia was so smitten. Seeing you holding her made him speechless. The sight before him was a renaissance that he couldn’t look away from. You were wrecked by your labor, but it was a magnificent scene to behold when you first held her, talking to her and calming her cries.

“Are you ready to hold her?”

He nods, closing his gaping mouth. He scoots closer, his movement is robotic. He holds his arms out.

 They’re shaky. Lucifer, he’s so nervous. He shouldn’t be, with all the things he’s done not only for her but for you. He’s waited so long for this, what if he messes up?

 Everything goes by in slow motion. You help position him to hold her properly. He snaps out of his thoughts when he feels a weight.

 And my god, isn’t it spectacular?

 He lets out a breathless gasp at the mere first glimpse of her.

 She’s here, with him, with you. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him since marrying you. She’s the most perfect thing he ever saw.

 He’s unaware of the tears streaming down his smudged face.

 She awakens, and is startled at the new face staring at her. She begins to wail, but he acts on instinct to quieten her once more.

“Shh, mia stellina. It’s your papa,” he ever so slightly rocks her.

“Don’t be scared.”

He brings a hand to caress her little face, and you could not believe how quick it was for her to settle.

“Yeah, you know me, don’t you? You recognize who I am?”

 She squeaks and nestles in the soft blanket that swaddled her. Her hand grasps his thumb, tiny fingers barely wrapping around it. This makes his heart nearly explode.

“She’s so small,” he hardly speaks above a whisper.

“She’s the spitting image of you. You saw her eyes, right?” 

 She has his eyes, the left being pale and pallid of color.

 You both marvel at her sleeping form. Everything about her derives from him, from her nose to her chin.

 You did say you wanted a mini version of him, and to see that your prayers were answered brought so much joy to your heart.

“Have you thought of names?” He asked with a twinge of guilt. He hadn’t found or thought of anything for her.

“I have, actually,” you hummed. You lean over to get another view of her face.

“I was thinking…. Cynthia?”

 He perks up at the speed of sound, locking eyes with you.

“A-After my…” he trails off, being on the verge of spilling.

“After your mother,” your hand places on top of his that’s holding her head.

“Cynthia Vittoria.”

“Cynthia… Vittoria,” he faintly echoes.

 He breaks his gaze from yours, looking back at her.

 It’s perfect, nothing better suits her.

 He kisses her on the nose, and touches foreheads with her.

”Ti ameró fino alla fine dei tempi.”

 Your eyes welled up again, treasuring this memory for eternity.

He looks at her with the same devotion he shows you. His state is more relaxed, looking as if he was made for this. And in a way, he was. 

You could stay and watch him babble to her for hours on end, but your work is catching up with you. Heavy eyelids struggle to stay open. You curl up against the infirmary pillow, keeping your family in your sight as you drift off.

Copia took advantage of this, and began singing to the both of you.

Life Eternal.

The same song he sang to you when you first started courting him.

 It looked quite fun, and you were shocked when he decided to ask you to teach him to dance.

 Yet for him to pirouette and leap like a ballerina, he was surprisingly stiff.

“Here, mira,” you walk to the other side of the room.

“Walk to me, but stay on beat,” you hold your arms out.

 He hesitates, taking a second to feel the music. His feet match up perfectly to the music when he walks.

“Good! Now backwards, bend your knees and shift your hips.”

You take him by the hands and lead him back to the other side, demonstrating what he’s supposed to be doing.

 He mirrors you, albeit a little more awkward looking. He is starting to loosen up, though.

“Now, put it all together with a few small jumps and spins in between,” you hold him by his waist and his other outstretched hand.

 You take it slow, going back and forth in a line until he copies you entirely.

 You speed it up little by little. He finds it unbelievable how quick he’s learning this, and gives a small laugh.

“I’m doing it!”

“You’re doing it!” You repeat.

 Seeing him finally get the basics of it makes you excited. You pull him closer, now being chest-to-chest. Your knee finds a spot between his legs. You can feel him tense under your touch. He swallows nervously.

“Now, ready for the fun part?”

He shakes his head but you shrug it off.

  “Just follow my lead. We’re going to go fast, okay? It’s much easier with a partner, for me anyway,” you prepare him for what’s about to go down. You decide to be generous and wait for the next song, currently tapping your foot and nodding your head to the beat of the finishing one.

 You start dancing when the next one plays. And lucky you! It’s your favorite song to dance to.

 The beat is easy to follow, but it’s still fast-paced. You both twirl around the room. He actually adjusts to it pretty well and goes along with you and the rhythm! His body meshes with yours almost flawlessly.

 Your favorite part is coming up. You slow everything down and dance in place, bracing Copia for what comes next.

“Here comes the best part!”

 You spin one more time, stopping afterward to dig your knee further between his legs when the climax of the song rises.

“Shake it, Copia!”

 You rock your leg to set the pace for him to roll his hips.

 He’ll do anything involving him swinging them. He lights up as he does so, once again to the rhythm of the song. He looks in your eyes with pride when it’s over. You beam up at him.

 You end the dance by dipping him.

 You’re both breathless.

 There’s a sense of fulfillment overfilling you. You’ve never been able to dance with someone the way you danced with Copia just now. You’ve never had a dance partner unlike him, and he’s just learning.

 In the moment, you forget all about how you’re holding him.

 He gives your arm a squeeze, bringing you back to reality.

 You clear your throat and lift him up.

 He brushes himself off and you turn the music off.

“That was…marvelous!” He wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Can I use this at my next show?”

“Ha! You can if you redo what you did but with better footwork,” you smirk and jokingly slap his chest.

 You both share a laughing fit before leaving the space.

“By the way, what do you call that?”

“Huapango!”

He started using it on stage after the encores when everything was done and the audience was clearing out. He’d even rope his ghouls into it, mainly Sodo or Phantom. They were understandably lost but somehow managed to keep up with him.

Your horns are smaller than the others. They were the most common shape, jutting out from your hairline and curving upward to a small point. Could it be that the size affects your shedding?

 Age didn't play an issue, you were as old as the others. You think there's something wrong with you, but they say it's natural and that you were fine. Maybe they're right, but it was something you couldn't shake off.

There was this one time where you collapsed on stage and you were sure to be sent back to hell for ruining the scene. But you woke up in the infirmary with the other ghouls surrounding you, one in particular holding your hand.

Cumulus was always the one to take extra care of you. She had this nurturing spirit about her. She was the first to get to know you upon your summoning, and you both grew close pretty quickly. She was the one to introduce you to the rest of your team.

It was definitely an interesting sight for the frontman, who you came to know as Papa Emeritus IV. All he saw was a pack circulating around you, taking in your scent and checking out the features you have. He was quite the character himself. She told you everything you needed to know about him and what to do.

She was the one who helped you find your talent for singing. Finding your “human” voice is a big deal for your kind. Ghouls don't talk like one could imagine, they use a sort of telepathy. It sounds like indistinct whispering, and they use small words and phrases. So when you heard her “voice”, it almost brought you to your knees.

Since then, you both have been inseparable.

Today, you're all practicing for the new songs the Emeritus wrote.

Or, you all were supposed to be. You didn't show up, and the rest were still waiting on you.

“What is taking so long?” The Emeritus broke the silence.

“Did I not say this was urgent?” He turned to the rest, throwing his arms up in an over exaggerated shrug.

They look around and stare at each other.

“ {y/n} unwell?”  

“ where {y/n}?”

“is late, is never late.”

There were chirps and purrs coming from each of them while they questioned your whereabouts.

 Cumulus was deep in thought about it. But then it hits after remembering what day it is.

She grabs her companion, Cirrus, by the sleeve. Cirrus tilts her head and twitches her nose.

“ know of {y/n}?” She asks.

“ {y/n} shed today,” Cumulus answers, distressed.

The others pick up on this, and immediately put their instruments down and go look for you.

The Emeritus jogs after them.

“Wait! What's going on?”

It's Dewdrop that stops in his tracks.

“ shedding,” he makes a pulling motion from his head where his own horns are positioned.

“Oh.” He raises his eyebrows, coming to the realization that you could literally be anywhere, and that brings a chill down his spine.

 You once freaked him out when you were in the middle of this process. It was a late night, and he was just finishing up some paperwork when he decided to take a break and wander around to stretch everything out. He was not expecting any other person to be up, much less you. So when he sees you at the end of a darkened hallway covered in blood and the only source of light coming from your dimly glowing eyes, he books it right back to his office and slammed the door. He even blocked it off with a chair.

“Yes. Yes, okay. Go,” Emeritus pats the ghoul on the shoulder. Dewdrop nods, and flees to catch up with the others.

“And find them before they find me!” He calls out, shuddering when he thinks back to that one night.

Everyone splits up, covering more ground around the abbey. One checks the kitchen, another inspects the reading room. Mountain scours the cemetery, and Dewdrop searches the meeting room.

But you're nowhere to be found.

Cumulus is out in the garden area, chittering and clicking, making the sounds you can recognize her by. She was hoping to be the one to find you, knowing what to do with you and how to do it.

 She looks under the benches. She rattles bushes. She pads around the various delicate flowers.

 She can't find you, though.

 The sound of dry leaves crunching under her feet grows more frantic. She's in a panic. You couldn't have gone far in your state.

 All hope begins to fade as she comes to a halt, catching her breath while trying to think rationally.

 You have these “go-to” spots, but all reported you weren't in any of them. Sometimes, you would get so overstimulated that you would find a new hiding area. But at the same time, you have a tendency to go astray. The pain would be so mind-numbing that you'd aimlessly drag yourself anywhere.

 Sleepwalking, in a way.

Feeling defeated, Cumulus decides that the others have probably found you by now.

 She surveys the area one last time. 

 She knows you haven't gone that far out, but she still squints at the treeline of the woods that hid the church. She sees the old conservatory.

 Perhaps you found sanctuary there.

 She hurries to the abandoned building, brushing away the stray brush and tall grass.

 Your scent is getting strong. Thank Satan she chose to look around again.

 On arrival, the first thing she noticed is the door that's slightly ajar.

 The building itself is gorgeous. There's an entryway that's framed with stained glass windows telling the story of Lucifer's Great Fall. It leads to an even larger glass dome. Some of the glass is broken, and the whole thing is held together by rusted beams.

 How could they let this breathtaking edifice go in such a vanquished state?

 No matter, she could sit and gawk at it another time. Her top priority was you.

 She shuffles through, and what she sees inside is incomparable to what is on the outside.

 The dusking light passes through each panel. Each color seeps in, reds and oranges paint the cobblestone pathway. Dead rose bushes fill the stone troughs that lined the hall. There's a lot of weeds and shriveled leaves.

 It was the definition of “hauntingly beautiful.”

 She ambled through, taking in the sights.

 It quite literally resembled hell.

 She was so lost in this place that she didn't pay attention to the scuffling that was coming in close behind her.

 Your vision is blurred. You are quite literally burning up, smoke evaporating off of you. Your lungs feel as if they've been strangled, leaving you to wheeze in what little air you can breathe.

 Your head is killing you.

 Emeritus scheduled one of the worst days for practice. You don't blame him, he just didn't know.

 You came here to be alone. You didn't even know this place existed, but it was perfect.

 The interior reminded you of home.

 “Home.”

 You could writhe up here the same way you would writhe down there.

 It was isolated enough so you couldn't venture out around the abbey, and so that no one could easily find you.

 No one was supposed to anyway.

 You were jostled from your withering when you heard the door creak open. You lifted your head from your hands when you heard footsteps.

 They were sparse, and some even dragged.

 They were unrecognizable.

You struggled to pull yourself to your feet, rolling over and clawing your way up.

 You had a hand in front of you to guide yourself.

There was another set of heavy wood doors connecting the actual greenhouse to the hall.

 You braced yourself, and weakly heaved them open.

 Through your heavy vision, you saw her .

 Cumulus had her back turned to you. Her eyes were glued to the ceiling. You didn't dare follow her gaze, seeing as she was truly the most beguiling thing here.

 You lurch forward, reaching for her.

“cumu….lus”

 She whirls around.

 And her eyes widen at the sight of you.

 The lining of your horns are peeling, exposing chunks of the tender flesh that was protected by it. Blood poured down your face in dark red rivulets. Smoke flows around you, and your clothes are torn to shreds.

 The worst part is how tired your eyes are.

 You try to walk to her, but you're so fatigued that your eyelids droop and you start to fall.

 You were prepared to hit the ground, but you were met with a warm softness.

 She caught you, and was now holding you under your arms. Her hands clutched what fabric was left of your uniform.

 She rubbed your back and eased you down so your head rested on her lap. You convulsed at her touch, hissing when she came too close to the base of your horns.

“ are hurt, why so far?”

 You didn’t have the strength to answer her. Right now, all you wanted to do was sit in silence. “ can walk? ”

 You shook your head. You’re too exhausted to move.

She lifts your head and spreads her legs out to get in a comfier position. Once settled, her claws itch at your scalp. She massages your head with slight pressure, which honestly feels so good given the circumstance.

 You whimper and tiredly bring a hand up to her knee.

 “ shh, are almost done ”

 She rubs your temples, seeing as how the enamel continues to peel. You start shaking.

 Cumulus is here for you. She doesn’t mind waiting for you . You’ve done the same for her a few times. She remembers being so embarrassed for you to see her in the same position you are, but you stayed by her side regardless.

She would take all this away from you if she could. Every ghoul has to go through this, sadly. It breaks her heart seeing anyone go through this. But it shatters seeing you go through it.

You white-knuckle the hem of her suit as your horns are at their final stage.

Your mouth is agape, but no sound comes out.

All you can do is hold onto your dear friend.

 And she lets you.

 She lets you dig your claws in her leg. She lets you scream and cry as loud as you need to. She lets you wipe the blood off on her clothes.

 She lets you be vulnerable.

You're so tired, and you're in so much pain.

 You pass out when the tips of them come undone.

 “ rest easy, {y/n}, ” she strokes the side of your face.

 She wishes she had more time with you like this, but you're both found by Mountain and Swiss.

 You're both a bloody mess.

 They don't question anything, they just help her carry you back to the church.

 You wake up in the infirmary yet again, but this time, no one is around you. Although, you do feel a weight on your torso.

You look down to see none other than Cumulus resting her head on folded arms, fast asleep.

 You smile and place a hand on her back.

 Her eyes flutter open.

 Seeing you're awake makes her sit upright.

“ are awake! how feeling? ” She clasps your hand in both of hers.

 You reach up to touch your horns and find that they're wrapped in bandages. There's a slight buzz in your head.

“sorry for not remember .”

 She looks away in shame.

You scoot up to her.

“no need,” you reply, taking her by the sides of her face to return her gaze to you.

“thanks for help. glad it was you.”

 Her eyes sparkled, the reddish-brown hues paling as she leaned into your touch.

“ as well as i,” she brings a hand up to rest on yours, further pressing flush against her.

 You kept this position for what felt like ages. You looked at her lovingly, and you want to say she reflected it.

 “ are… are feeling same? ”

 She finally put it into words.

 There’s a theory that ghouls can feel emotions on a much deeper level than the average mortal, that they can feel it through a simple touch.

 And with your hand on her cheek, it exclusively validates it into fact.

 Your thumb grazes her soft lips.

And you then pull her in by the chin, taking one last glimpse in those hellish eyes of hers.

And you kiss her.

She squeaks happily. Her stomach flips and her heart skips a beat. You’re so warm, not overheating like you were. And you’re so unexpectedly tender, gentle even.

 If she had a tail, it’d be wagging.

 You recede from her, leaving her mouth partially gaping open.

 “answer question?” You let out a breathless laugh.

 She giggles and nods, bringing one of your hands up to plant a kiss in the palm of it.

“ not know half of it! ”

 And he was beyond furious when he found out they scheduled him behind his back.

 All that fighting he did ended up for waste beneath their feet. He let Sister Imperator have it, cursing the situation he was thrown into. But she couldn’t do anything about it. It was “out of her hands.”

 And that blinding rage converted to fear and guilt when he had to tell you the plans that were bestowed to him.

He came to you in tears, spewing apologies about the whole ordeal. His anxieties came crashing through in waves. There was one problem on top of another, on top of another.

 You understood, however. You knew how uptight the church is and how strict their rules were. More importantly, you knew that if it were up to him, he’d step down and retire the title of “Papa” altogether if it meant being with you and his little one. But you also knew the consequences if he were to quit. You both did. And that was something he absolutely could not do.

 This was his ultimatum.

 You were officially five weeks in when it was time for him to depart. And by the gracious power of Lucifer, this tour would last for the span of a few months.

 He was still very reluctant about leaving, but you kept reassuring him that you were just in the early stages and that you could handle yourself.

 He kept in touch with you, asking how everything is and how you're doing. You would give him updates and send pictures each week.

But he was left with nothing these past couple of weeks. He's asked multiple times if you were okay and if something was wrong. You felt bad, knowing he was worried sick about you and the baby, but you knew it would be worth it in the end.

Looking back on it now makes you think this was the right move, though. How else were you to surprise him?

You are currently twenty weeks along, and you learned about the gender last week.

Your plan had officially gone into effect when the next show was closer to home. Hopefully Copia wouldn’t be too upset since he advised you against visiting him at any point. 

You pulled some strings and you asked around. You had the special effects technicians slide a little something in. Everyone worked together. They were more than happy to help, which you couldn't be more thankful for. It was their idea to have you stay on the balcony instead of backstage, that way you could see his reaction to it all.

 You'll have to do something special for them soon.

Excitement bubbled in you once the concert was coming to a close.

He was finishing up his encore, ending it with the one song people all over the world came to love, Mary On A Cross .

This song felt special to you, despite being aware of the origins of it. Part of you believes he sings it for you.

 The song ends with him giving a final pose. The crowd erupts with cheers and shrieking exhilaration.

A couple of smoke canons explode, and then it happens.

You lean over the railing to get a better view of his actions.

The confetti drops.

Pieces of pink and silver scatter the stage. Copia is visibly confused, looking around and asking his ghouls what this was. They play along, some tilting their heads while the others shrug. You could hear sparse laughter from the audience when he picks some up to toss it back in the air and stomp around in frustration.

 You couldn’t help but let out a chuckle of your own.

“Alrighty, Lil’ C. Ready to go?”

 You look to see a stage guard, his heavy accent startling you a bit.

You take one more shot at the stage. Seeing him give the final bow is your cue to go.

You nod. He offers his arm for you to take and helps escort you to where Copia would be.

 It’s a lengthy walk, but it’s nothing you can’t bear. You secretly appreciate the man’s assistance. He unlinks from you when you come across a door and motions for you to stand behind him.  

“Ey, bigshot! We got a visitor!” Your heart pounds as heavy as this guy’s knocking.

The weighted door is thrown open with such a force that it made it seem it wasn’t made of metal.

“What?! Who is it? Tell them I’m not doing ‘meet and greets!’ I’m in the middle of something here!”

He spits daggers, and the guard rolls his eyes.

Gosh, how you missed hearing his voice up close like this.

“Look, it’s someone who really wants to meet you,” he steps to the side, allowing you to reveal yourself. “A big fan of yours, I’d imagine.”

You take a step forward, further exposing yourself. It’s quite humorous how quick Copia changes his demeanor upon seeing you.

“Mia amata!”

He rushes into your arms and holds you tightly, savoring you.

His lips mash against the top of your head while taking in your scent. He can’t believe you’re here, right here. Right now.

The rhythm of his heartbeat syncs with yours, coming together in a yearning symphony. You both stay embraced like this before he remembers the condition you're in, and he disentangles from you.

“I thought I told you not to strain yourself coming to see me,” you give a brief sigh of amusement at his fretting. He grimaced at this, visibly restricting himself to press you further.

“Well, we couldn't wait to see you,” your hand skims along the curve which proudly shows how far you’ve progressed. His gaze softens when he looks down at your figure.

 He observes the way you light up when you feel yourself. Something in the back of his mind wants to chastise you for not telling him what was going on these past few weeks, but it all washes away when you’re glowing right in front of him.

Lucifer, what did he do to deserve you?

“Oh! And er…” You turn to the guard that was accompanying you. You extended your hand with a sheepish grin, forgetting that he was still in this spot with you both.

“Micah, it's Micah,” he takes it and gives a small peck to the back of it.

“Thank you, Micah, for all that you do,” your eyes shone with utmost gratitude.

“Anytime, Lil’ C.” He makes his way out of the scene.

Copia waits until he knows for certain he’s gone before muttering a dense threat. “He’s getting fired before the night ends.”

“Jealous, are we?” You snickered. “No, no! Just, cautious–”

He guides you by the arm inside the backstage area. “Cee, darling, you don’t have to worry. They respect you too much to try anything,” you give his arm a light-hearted pat.

“.....I hope so,” he isn’t too convinced, but he’ll get over it eventually.

 He sets you down on this beautifully crafted chaise lounge and takes his spot next to you. It’s decked out with red padded velvet and gold incisions. It looks to be hand-carved and varnished. It’s weirdly comfortable. Or maybe it’s your body thanking you for a break from being on your feet for so long.

You exhale in relief, the ache dulling in your legs.

  “A-Are you alright? Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Water?” You smile and shake your head. 

“No thank you, love.” You place a hand on his thigh.

“How long have you been up? You’re not hurt are you? When I get back to the church I’m going to-” “Copia! I’m fine, the baby’s fine, everything is okay ,” you take his hands in yours, trying to calm his nerves. Your thumbs trail over his knuckles.

“We missed you terribly is all.” You bring them up to kiss them, and then wrap his arm around your shoulders and lean into him. He says nothing, giving in to your touch he so craved. You’re cuddled into a side hug, his other arm lacing around your middle. “I saw what happened with the confetti. Quite a way to end things, hm?” You hope you were vague and convincing enough for him not to piece everything together straight off the bat.

“Well…it was all pink! I thought it was supposed to be gold, it’s always gold! I was just figuring out who the hell was behind all this but then-”

“Wait, Cee, say that again,” you interrupted his rambling.

“Someone replaced the confetti with the wrong color,” he summarized.

“No, love, not that,” you laugh out. “What color was it?” “It was pink,” he tilts his head and looks at you dumbfounded. “The confetti was pink ,” you press his hand against the swell of your bump. “The confetti was…” he repeated the words silently and stared at your hand resting on his.

You can see the cogs start to shift behind his squinted eyes.

But he bolts off the lounge when he finally connects the dots.

“Y-You mean-!”

You nodded, eyes glossing over with overwhelming joy.

“We’re having a girl. It’s a girl!”

He breathlessly exclaims, then kisses you deeply, passionately. He couldn’t thank the stars more than he could now. First, you came into his life as nothing but a humble servant. He saw so much more in you than what the Clergy painted you out to be. He pursued his interest in you and fell in love with you the more you interacted with him. Your voice, your laugh, your stare. How logical you were, how you were cunning and witty. He couldn’t get enough. He had to have you.

 And now, you’re here, with his child under your heart.

He breaks away and drops to his knees, pulls you closer, and rests the side of his head on your stomach. You lean back to give him more access.

“Hi, hello, mia stellina,” he began. A smile spreads wide across your face at the little nickname he’s already given her. “You don’t know how happy you make me,” your other hand moves to lovingly stroke his hair, pushing away any stray strands that fell in his face. “But your papa can’t wait to meet you. I’m sorry I haven’t spent time with you yet, I’ve been…restricted.” Your heart weighed down with remorse. The Clergy was overbearing and ruthless. You and your husband should be enjoying this, not relishing it in between tour dates.

“You don’t need to know the details yet, that’s a story for when you get here. I don’t want you coming out angry,” he titters.

 And yet, he tried to make light of the circumstances. At least he would have this second, this minute, this hour. He would have this one instant where he could be as vulnerable as he wanted. With you. And with his baby girl.  

“But I promise I will make up for it as soon as I’m done touring and travelling and singing to random people. One day, I’ll get the chance to sing to you.”

 You sniffle. Tears fall freely. There’s a lump in your throat you can’t swallow. “Just know that I love you so much more than you know.” He presses his lips against your belly, hoping that his little girl can sense his adoration for her.

….Which is solidified when you both felt a very faint flick. It was soft, but it was there.

His eyes snap up to lock with yours.

“Did you…?”

“Y-Yeah! I felt it too,” the words almost failed to come out.

“ Stellina, baby,” you rub small circles on the curve of your stomach. “ One more time.”

It was like she could already understand. She responded by giving a swifter, more solid kick.

 You looked at Copia with a watery smile. “That’s our girl.”

A mix of emotions hung in the air, smothering you both. You both were ecstatic. Copia thought he’d never have anything like this. He felt like he was on top of the world.

 He let a few tears of his own fall when he felt yet another swipe.

“Mia stellina, one more thing now that you can hear me,” his forehead touches your stomach.“No matter where I’m at, or where you’ll be,” he lowers his voice.

“Sono sempre con te,” and plants another kiss.

But it all came crashing down after the encore.

The following events seemed to fly by before your eyes. Now, he was back on the stage. Not to sing or be a star. Not to perform. Not to entertain. But instead to say goodbye. To establish an end to a relationship he wasn’t ready to let go of so early. His mother, once alive and just then giving him advice, now blanketed and unmoving. It was odd. He swore he could see she had some sort of color to her. Her skin and hair was greying out, but when does age not do that to someone? She still had her smile that rejuvenated her features. And her laughter always made him feel better. She would help brighten up his day in any way she could. But now, she laid before him, faded and gone. He could no longer hear her voice, feel her touch. You stood behind him. The shock of it all dissipated into sorrow. He was a statue for the longest while. You contemplated on saying something to console him, but you knew he needed some time to process everything. Quite honestly, you did too.

You hadn’t known her for long, but from the time you did spend with her, you grew to look up to her. She always knew what to say or do, and she’d be damned if she didn’t. You caught a glimpse of the relationship she had with Nihil. She was always quick with words and would give witty responses. But she seemed to soften up around you. When you first joined the church and her son showed an inkling of interest in you, she played the cards right, and ended up playing matchmaker with you.

Since then, you couldn’t help but love her. Which is why your heart shattered when given the news. You were startled from your thoughts when you heard the scuffing of Copia’s shoes.

His steps were slow. He walked as if something was pulling him back, not wanting him to see the cold face of death that plastered his mother’s. He dropped to his knees reaching the side of the gurney and looked her over. Her eyes were closed, and her face rested in a tranquil state. It was peaceful. It was hard, but he took it all in.

Or he at least tried to. You could see his shoulders starting to tremble. His whole body began to quiver. His breath was hitching and becoming raspy. Misty eyes finally let tears slip. And he finally was allowed to break. He threw himself over her, gripping the blanket in balled fists. The fabric bunched between his gloved fingers. He sobbed uncontrollably, wailing out and begging for something to bring her back. He kept calling out for her, as if she’d rise up and hug him again in a warm embrace, like she would do when he was a child. And like a child, he couldn’t do anything but miss her. He couldn’t do anything to wake her up. Your own tears started trailing down your face as you watched the scene before you. You swallowed and did your best to stifle yourself, wiping away the tears that did fall. Right now, you had to be strong for him. As strong as you could be.

You then made your way to them, and knelt beside Copia.

His face was pressed into her abdomen. He was clawing at the sheet desperately trying to feel her warmth one more time. “ My love, ” you barely whispered as your hand ghosted his back. You couldn’t even touch him before he tackled you. He clutched your clothes and clinged to you as if you were leaving him next.

You couldn’t help but join him in his mourning. You cried again along with him, gently rocking him back and forth and tracing patterns on his lower back in an attempt to soothe him. You kept him like this for a bit, before you remembered something she shared with you. “ You know, when he was having a panic attack, or if he just needed it, I would hold him and stroke his hair and hum to him to help calm him.”

You had asked her what to do in times like these when he first started panicking around you.

She used to hold him like this as a child, too.

So you knew how important this would be to him. This was the moment he could be comforted by her, the idea of her, for one last time. Your fingers wandered up to his hair, now brushing through and caressing his head. He nestled in the crook of your neck, pulling you in tighter (if that was even possible). Soon enough, your voice vibrated a medley of choruses from tonight’s show. You drifted between each song, letting a few lyrics escape from your lips in a hushed tone. You could feel his chest tightening and his lips pressing against your skin. You could feel his sorrow. You could feel him .

You let your eyes close to help you focus on him.

Slowly, his body starts to lull. He wasn’t as shaky as he was before, however, you could still feel the downpour that came from his eyes. You kept massaging his scalp. You didn’t dare break away from him until you knew he would be alright. But you were running out of songs. Your eyes peeled open, and your voice got lower. Your heart quickened its pace in a panic. You couldn’t quite remember how some of the older songs that you listened in the church’s archives went. You could feel Copia shift. Perhaps he knew that you were coming to a close. As your humming grew quieter, you began to hear something. There was something ringing out to you. It sounded way off in the distance, like it was playing somewhere in a totally different part of the auditorium. You closed your eyes again, straining yourself to listen harder and make out what was playing.

Sure enough, the sweet sound of music trickled through your ears. You can’t put your finger on it, but the more you tuned into it, the more familiar it sounded. You channeled your focus inwards, finding the lyrics that somehow rippled through your thoughts. What was strange though was that you were certain you’ve never heard of anything like this before. What was even more strange was how the chorus just…came to you. “ But if it all burns down,” you barely muttered. “ If it all burns down,” Copia perked up, raising his head enough for his eyes to peek over your shoulder.

“I will hold you close for the minute,”  his eyebrows knitted together, and his breathing wasn't as labored as before.

“For the minute,” you were getting lost in a trance along with the lyrics, each word rising to a crescendo the more you sang.

“If it all burns down, and the flames devour everything that we are,”  it was amazing how you never heard this before, but you sang the words like it's been stuck in your head.

“I will hold you for the minute,”

A sense of bewilderment overwhelmed him. His anguished grip on you loosened, taking in another stuttering breath.

Did you think of this just now?

“I will hold you for the minute it takes,”

When you finished and you came to, you saw that your beloved was stable.

Another moment of you trapped in each other's arms. No words, no sound.

Just a broken couple, seeking solace in one another.

There was nothing but silence, until Copia spoke up.

“I don't…remember us performing that,” verbalizing his confusion, voice still wavering. “...I don’t either.” Internally, you were just as puzzled as he was. Yet, your expression ceased to change, staring blankly out in the open.

You felt another breath warm the curve of your neck before he pulled away. Part of you didn’t want him to. Your heart sank deeper when you saw his disheveled form. Your hands rested on his shoulders after he adjusted himself,  his own then rose to hold your face. His thumbs padded over your tear-stained cheeks. His paints were smudged, and you made his hair a bit unruly. Eyes were red and puffy, and still tearful. “Whatever that was, it was beautiful, Amore .” His forehead pressed against yours. “Thank you.”

But he didn’t have to thank you. You would do this as many times as he needed. You could hold him like that forever if it were up to you. Whether you realize it or not, he felt the same way. “Copia, my love,” hand cupping the side of his face. “I will always be here for you,” Your lips crashed against his. He inhaled through his nose. It was his turn to run his fingers through your locks and hold you close to him. Teeth-gnashing moments passed. Unfortunately, there had to be a stopping point. And this time it was you who pulled away. And you both turned your gaze to the third body that still filled the room. “Especially right here,”

You both drew the sheet up over her face, engulfing her in the pale linen. Then, you both leaned over and enveloped each other. Afterwards, you helped each other up and were about to leave hand-in-hand when an older gentleman walked in with a letter issued to Copia.

“ Right now. ”