TachDeaf

Mephistopheles is a talker. You find it admirable how sharp his memory is and engaging you for opinions. Though sometimes, his topic drifts from random to Diavolo and Lucifer. You're aware of happened between him and the Demon Prince, and how his parents raised him to be the future king's right-hand.

It's tiring. Every so often you try to change topic but somehow, in a few minutes Mephistopheles diverts it back about them.

Like this moment.

You weren't listening to him at this point. Finding false amusement at the tea he poured for the both of you, tapping the edge of the cup lightly.

"...you're not even paying attention."

Eyes meeting his dark green ones, Mephistopheles plasters a glare. The constant dramatic flair of his hands whenever he speaks rests on the white cloth of the table.

"I was."

The demon crosses his arms. "What was the last word I said?"

"Either Lucifer or Diavolo." You can't mask the apathy in your voice, attention back at your tea. You wait for Mephisto to continue, utter words of agreement but the silence only stretch further, making you look up.

"Am I boring you human?" He voices in a tone of annoyance, but you know better. Mephisto still has a frown in his features yet a tinge of guilt behind his gaze. It softens when you sigh and calling his name.

"Do you—" Your jaw clenches, trying how to word out your thoughts. "—I get how much you're devoted to Diavolo, and it should be something to be proud of." An exerted chuckle comes out of you. "You were practically raised to be friends with him in a sense."

"But do you...ever stop and wonder about what you want? To be you?"

Both of you are in the gardens behind of his family manor, sharing the same preference of wanting to dwell outside rather in a room. Their place is a little far from the main streets of Devildom, given the fact the family owns and nurtures horses. You hear a distant neigh from the stables, echoing in the endless night. It's colder than in the bustling place you always walk on either with the brothers, or other friends, but the tea that was brewed with a mix of special herbs that lingered the liquid's warmth far longer than it should—one you are thankful for.

Mephistopheles didn't answer right away. Your question lingers in the quiet gardens, the silence is heavier than the heat coming from the elegant cups, and louder than the demon's usual pride as you return your stare towards him.

"You assume too much." Mephistopheles declares, his tone light and not mocking. "My devotion to the Prince is not something that can be questioned."

Your lips curl in a half-smile, leaning forward on the table to rest an elbow then propping your chin up. "I'm not doubting your loyalty Mephisto. Diavolo—" You suppress a laugh at the slight change of expression on his face, still not used how you can casually say the future king's name with no consequence. "—means a great deal to you. But you can be more."

"You know what I see?" You pause, watching for a moment as Mephistopheles reaches for his cup, a slight clink against the saucer. A gloved finger brushes against yours on purpose and you don't flinch. His movements are deliberate as he lifts the cup close to him and you catch a smirk on his lips before taking a sip.

Mephistopheles meets your gaze slowly, dark green eyes narrowing. It's an empty warning, leaning more into curiosity. You almost lose your train of thoughts in his undivided attention. You feel your heart quicken that surely can be heard, it always unnerving yet alluring how it has a soft glimmer beyond the color. Mephistopheles drifts at your lips for a second before returning to you, as if wanting you to notice it.

He knows what he's doing. And you're aware of it. The lingering tension between the two of you had occurred quite some time but none of you dare to cross it yet. Or perhaps, the long wait provides something neither of you are willing to rush.

"I see someone who prefers the truth." You say softly. "Despite his arrogance, even if he claims he doesn't care, he still chases answers with an unbreaking persistence whenever he writes in the newspaper club."

"Not only he brags about himself, but he also speaks proudly about the people he respects." You tilt your head while Mephistopheles tightens his grip around the porcelain. "Their achievements, their strengths, everything basically."

"His smile is genuine whenever he talks about horse riding." You add. "I never experience it, but I could tell from how he describes it gives him a momentary freedom from the world."

"He pretends he's indifferent, yet he lets himself be gentle and vulnerable whenever he's around children. Especially with his brother." You grin. "It's what I like about him the most."

You wait for his reaction. Each distinction you peel and lay out in front of Mephistopheles that he had spent centuries to hide—perfecting even—is revealed. There's a mix of emotions swirling from huff of laughter, and disbelief is one of them.

Mephistopheles looks away for a moment, lingering on the variety of flowers you've never seen or heard of. Then in a low voice to hide the tremble he asks. "What do you think of me?"

"I think of you," Your answer make him turn his head back, not understanding what you meant.

"Every time we're together doing whatever plans one had came up with. I think of you, Mephisto." You took a deep breath, gathering enough courage to take hold one of his hands right after he settled his tea. "Even when we're not in the same place, I think of you."

"I always think of you."

The air between you shifts into something delicate. You see his expression soften again, the prideness is still there, it's touched with genuinity. Your feel your cheeks flare when he brings your clasped hand near his lips, leaving a rush of tenderness and boldness when he kissed your skin.

"Stay longer." Mephistopheles utters suddenly almost pleasing in a rasp still holding your hand. "There are many spare beds in the manor. Tell those brothers you'll come home tomorrow."

"What will we do for the rest of the day?" You ask, excitement and anticipation flowing you can't contain your smile.

"You haven't ridden a horse yet, yes?" Mephistopheles, finally, returns the grin. "I'll take you, I'll even show you the places I like to be alone for a while."

He is aware there is still an ongoing dispute between the three realms, and Lord Diavolo is doing the best to unite them, along with his noble status. Mephistopheles lets himself be selfish for once to imagine a gold band with a gemstone in the same magenta shade as his hair both wrapped around in the left ring fingers, seeing you around the many halls of the manor, completing what has been missing in his life.