simeon, who tells himself that your soul will go to heaven. he tells himself that when your time comes, he will be able to greet you in the celestial realm, that he will smile at your halo and caress your white wings.
simeon, who hates the truth.
simeon, who knows that from your pacts on your skin - symbols of not even indulgence, flat out ownership of the seven sins - that you will be cast down to the bowels of hell. he knows that your soul will end up in one of the circles, where you will be punished for eternity, while he is supposed to turn a blind eye.
simeon, who can’t help but fantasize, but wish, but pray, that he could protect you in heaven. he dreams about hiding you in a forgotten corner of the celestial realm. he dreams about laying next to you in the plains, bodies concealed by the always blooming flowers.
simeon, who dreams about holding you.
simeon, who wishes he could kiss you.
simeon, who prays that he could be free to love you.
without the judgmental eyes of Him along his back.
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Snippet 1.4
Previous
The next morning, Henchman sat in the infirmary of Villain's Headquarters, the atmosphere as thick as smoke. Henchman figured Villain let slip to someone what they were planning to do the Henchman as a punishment for what they'd done, or maybe even details of how they'd be tortured or killed, or maybe even thrown out for the heroes to round up like a stray dog, most likely with their tongue cut out and hands broken so they didn't stand a chance at revealing anything they'd learned about Villain
They didn't really know anything useful for the heroes anyway. They knew Villain's favorite color (dark blue), favorite foods (anything with chocolate), allergies (blueberries), their least favorite movie genre (horror) and a couple other things they picked up from being around Villain so much.
They learned why Villain didn't get on well with their parents (they very much had a favorite child and it wasn't Villain) and what'd brought on their anger towards the Hero Agency once Villain brought them into their confidence, sure, but they didn't know much more about plans then the average civilian--that would be Right Hand. Their actual duties consisted of watching over supplies, managing other henchmen and keeping an eye on the overall workings of Headquarters.
Henchman hoped that taking down Hero would make Villain proud of them. Would make them allow Henchman into their inner circle and bring them into their confidence. They'd hoped to get as close to Villain as Right Hand--closer, after bringing down Hero. And instead, they'd suffered two humiliating defeats (and several broken ribs).
It all came to a head when Medic came in to check on Henchman's stitches. in addition to the blunt force trauma of being thrown through a window and into a wall, glass shards stuck into their back and left jagged, stinging wounds that oozed blood well into the night. Henchman sat on their cot, facing away from Medic as their wounds were inspected and re-dressed, and even then they could feel the hesitation Medic's hands, which were usually sure and quick.
Silence hung in the room like a dead man.
"What are they gonna do?" Henchman asked in a croaky voice, just barely above a whisper.
Medic paused. Considered. "What?"
"Villain. What are they gonna do to me?"
Again, they were met with silence. Henchman was sure the stress was worse than any answer Medic could've given until... Medic laughed. They laughed. It wasn't a snort or a scoff, or even a giggle--and they didn't even try to hide it! Medic stepped back for a moment, cackling as Henchman's stomach dropped. Of all the answers they were expecting, that was one they hadn't prepared for in the slightest.
"Oh, God, I needed that. You're hysterical."
"I'm being serious!" Henchman whirled around half way before the agony from the mess that somehow made up their abdomen sent lightning-hot reminders of why that was a horrible idea.
"Stop it, you're gonna hurt yourself," Medic scolded lightly, laughter still dancing in their eyes. "Have you really been stressed about that the whole time?"
"YES!" Henchman was near screaming now, though they weren't sure if it was ager or confusion that raised their voice. "Why wouldn't I be? Did you see how furious Villain was before they left? And I haven't seen them since. I left without permission and acted without orders; they have every reason to be upset. And everyone and everything's been so quiet today, it's like I've been handed down a death sentence."
Medic cleared their throat and the last embers of amusement flickered out. "Yeah, well, you're right about that, but you're not the one in danger. Or at least, you weren't when it mattered."
The tone of Medic's voice was dead serious--terrifying--and didn't help the growing pit of anxiety that had hunkered down in Henchman's stomach. They felt like they were going to pass out, woozy and dizzy and like the world was tipping out from under them.
A sharp snap under their nose anchored them a little more steadily to the bed they were sitting on, Medic having circled around the cot to look Henchman in the eyes. "You're fine, relax. The rest of us weren't supposed to tell you because it was bad, even for Villain, but I don't think you're in for anything more than a slap on the wrist, and neither does anyone else."
And they wouldn't understand that even if Henchman wasn't going to be killed, as thankful for that as they were, even a slap on the wrist as Medic said would destroy everything Henchman had been working towards. Everything they'd been hoping for. They should've known going into the fight that they were putting Villain's trust in them on the line, and they had--to a point.
They never expected they would fail as horribly as they did, nor that Villain would react with the kind of quiet fury usually reserved for their rare interactions with heroes or other members of the Agency itself. They hadn't expected to be sent to the infirmary the way that they were, or to be teleported directly to it from an alley just off the main scene of the fight after barely getting away.
And what they really weren't expecting was what hurt most: The fact that Villain had put them here and walked off without another word. They'd spoken in their office, but beyond that, there wasn't even a threatening note, or a warning given through Medic. They'd been effectively put in time out, knowing what might be coming but not having enough confidence to really prepare themselves one way or another.
“Hey, what did I just say?” Medic says, this time with annoyance in their tone. “Even if I don’t know the details, I know you’re gonna be fine, okay? You’re gonna be fine, and I don’t think you’re clocking Villain’s feelings towards what you did to Hero as correctly as you think you are, yeah?”
Their assessment was fair, if not a little stinging. They’d never been good at reading people, but they’d hoped Villain was the exception. Even with their monotone voice and often stony demeanor, Henchman knew how tired they were in a glance after a fight; knew when to call for Medic or coffee or let them get straight to their personal rooms and block everyone else from entering–something Right Hand was usually supposed to do.
The entire night, they’d tried not to deliberate too much on Right Hand. They’d tried to ignore the stinging jealousy of the fact that there was already someone that was so close to Villain they could almost read their thoughts. They knew Villain kept a certian amount of professionalism and distance between themselves and Right Hand that didn’t seem to be present between Villain and Henchman, but most liekly because it wasn’t seen as necessary. They weren’t close enough for it to matter in the first place.
“Okay,” Henchman murmured, and one look at Meidc’s face made it clear to even them that they didn’t beleive them for a second. Nevertheless, Medic stepped away.
“Okay,” they echoed, with much more confidence. “You seem to be healing well, all things considered, and I have other patients I need to take care of, so I’m going to leave you here, okay? Try not to freak out too much on me, yeah?”
Henchman gave a weak nod, and an even weaker smile. They were sure that Medic could see them spiraling form the outside, but if they did, they didn’t say anything about it. “Yeah.”
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Tagging: @nameless-beanie @crow-with-a-typewriter @mylovelyme (If you wanted to be tagged and weren't please just poke me with a stick)
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