Together, we studied the ancient texts by candlelight, slouching over books and scroll, eyes squinting to read the faded words. Lucifer had been hesitant to let me bring the candles into the library and made sure to carefully place the flammables out of reach from the flames. He was jumpy each time I spoke, like he expected me to lash out at any given moment, and the way he tried to make his body smaller by hunching told me he was nervous of gaining my attention. It was like he wanted to sink quietly into the dusty shelves, forgotten.

Lucifer told me everything before we dived into these yellowed pages. From the time he was in the Holy Lands, observing them as an Archangel. His power was said rival even Seraph Michael’s, an unfathomable feat; no one has ever come as close to the sponsor of justice as Lucifer. With a low voice he spoke of his desire for more. The Holy Lands no longer satisfied him, so he spoke to Michael about conquering the land below, where the rumored Garden of Eden resided.

Michael called him an ungrateful fool for not being sated with his high position and influence. They argued, both caught up in their own ideals and not willing to listen to the other. Words turned to blood as the two Seraphs fought, their battle creating gorges in the earth and clouds. At the highest point of the Holy Lands did they cease fighting, both equally wounded and tired. It was there that Lucifer promised to take the lands below as his, to create his own army and people. With this vow, he leapt off the edge willingly, letting Michael take the victory as his.

On the lands below he wandered, seeking out the myth of the Garden of Eden, but he never found it. Instead, he created his own land, and eventually, his own people. The process was brutal, Lucifer said, and took him seven days to complete. He separated the most prominent parts of his soul, the parts that could wreck the most havoc. Wrath, sloth, envy, gluttony, lechery, and avarice. He called himself pride, for it was his pride that became his downfall.

He spent centuries with his creations. They were like family and looked up to him, loyal and willing to do anything to please him. But one day I realized I wasn’t happy. That wasn’t the world I had imagined, Lucifer had whispered. So, I left. I can still see their faces, how betrayed they were. They believed they did not please me enough. It seems like everything I touch just crumbles away, broken.

He ended his story there. I knew there was more he hadn’t spoke of, in detail, but I left him be. It was hard to imagine such a poor man as pride incarnate, with the domineering arrogance he told me he once had. It simply wasn’t possible for me to conjure up an image of Lucifer in that way when he has never been nothing but patient and generous towards me.

I rubbed my eyes, forcing the blurry lines inked in elegant calligraphy back into focus. The warm glow from the candle didn’t help, flickering shadows across the pages, the darkness making me sleepier than I should have.

“I think it is time we turn in,” Lucifer said, breaking the ringing silence broken only by crinkling parchment.

Too tired to speak, I hummed a response, marking my current page and closing the book. I slumped against the table, waiting for Lucifer to put away the candles and his scroll, my mind slowly slipping into darkness.

“Will you be able to walk?” he asked directly in my ear, sending shivers down my spine. I shook my head, mumbling incoherently. “I will carry you, then.”            

Before I could decipher what he said, he had already scooped me up into his arms, treading carefully as to not jolt me. Warmth from his skin seeped through his robes, and with my head nestled against his chest I could hear the steady thump of his heart. I reached up, wrapping my arms around his neck to even out my weight.

Yes. That is the only reason for hugging him. Nothing else.

I must have dosed off, because I was suddenly being lowered down to my bed, the covers being drawn over me.

“Cassius,” Lucifer said, slightly amused. “You’ll have to let go of me.”  

I shook my head, leaning into his warmth. “Just stay here,” I slurred tiredly, trying to pull him down with me. The larger man did not budge. “You promised to stay with me.”

Lucifer relented, falling onto the bed. “You play my own words against me.” He did not mention how my arms were still wrapped around him, or how our bodies were pulled flush against one another. He did not say anything as his arms reached out to do the same, enveloping me in the scent of the vanilla-citrus incense. We did not speak as our limbs tangled unconsciously, or when I laced a lazy hand through his hair. Our eyes met, saying words that we wouldn’t dare say aloud; they’re too raw, too dangerous.

In silence, we were safe, the way flame was contained by a candle wick. I was afraid what would happen if the flame met a forest and burned everything down. I did not want to live a life of ashes and embers again.

Like this, we slept, rain pattering quietly outside the window until the sun rose and we woke in each other’s arms. Even now we do not speak. This new fragile feeling, like a baby bird who has not yet taken flight, had the force of a phoenix.

Together, we ate breakfast, and then did we break the invisible agreement of silence. We spoke of the thunderstorm last night, of our measly findings in the archives, of how today’s strawberries were particularly sweet. We danced around what had happened, toeing the line before leaping back, both of us knowing an act too soon would doom what little we had.

Our days went by like this, the time moving fast, but seemingly dragging by like someone was trying to slow it. The hours we spent in the library quickly piled up, Lucifer convincing me to take breaks of fresh air. He showed me his many gardens and courtyards, telling me of his hope of one day finding the Garden of Eden; something he still held even after all this time.

I was no longer scared of my future, of the imminent death that hung over me. In the Holy Lands, I had taken lessons with Seraph Azrael, the Archangel of the End. I did not understand him then, his lectures of the calm before the passing, of the peace that followed. The soul, he said, was taken from the body and released into the world, where they rested. I found comfort of being able to watch over Lucifer after the secretive messengers of Azrael took me away.

But beneath my composure was this heavy guilt of having to leave Lucifer, and it only grew heavier with each passing day that we harbored our feelings. We had stripped our emotions bare, fearful but trusting, and I was terrified of abandoning him. Terrified of him having to face his thoughts alone. Each night they haunted him as he slept and each night I woke him, clasping his shaking body in my arms until he relaxed. I knew it scared him, too, and he clung to my every bit of being any chance he got.

I brought up this one day in the library, and still Lucifer rejected my idea. He said that he refused to leave me be, to stop what he had. I warned him of the consequences, yet he brushed it off easily.

“Do not worry about me,” he said softly, running his fingers through my curls, laughing as they sprang up no matter how many times he patted them down. “This piece, right here.” He lightly tugged a lock of hair by my neck. “It’s always sticking up in his direction.”

I batted his hand away, struggling to hide my smile.

“This one, too. It’s charming.”

“No one’s ever told me that before.”

“And now they don’t have to, because I’ve beat them to it.”

I grabbed a strand of his hair, watching with fascination as it glowed gold, catching the sun that streamed through the skylights above. “This one always falls over your shoulder when you turn your head,” I commented, threading it between my fingers, brushing my lips to the tip of his hair. “It’s lovely.”

“And no one’s ever said that to me before.”

“Really? Not even your many admirers in the Holy Lands?”

His neck flushed red. “That does not count. You are the only one that matters now.”

I felt my own skin grow heated. Such open affection was foreign to me. “Focus,” I muttered, dropping his hair. But I couldn’t; not when he looked at me with those knowing eyes so deeply my very soul itself was left trembling. A teasing finger poked the back of my neck, and my head snapped up to find Lucifer gazing at me, a mischievous smile forcing its way to his lips.

“That was the last time. I’ll get back to work,” he laughed, seeing my expression. And he did, to my disappointment, go back to reading the book propped in front of him, writing down the occasional note in elegant script.

This went on until the sun began to decline in the sky, and Lucifer forced me up, dragging me to dinner. He ignored my protests, insisting that I needed food and rest to keep my brain sharp. My complaining dwindled when I realized that I was starving, quietly accepting the meal placed before me.

“Did you find anything new?” I asked him once we had gotten situated.

“Only by slowly piecing together random bits of ancient vocabulary,” he said. “Though I warn you to not rely on my theory alone.”

My stomach did a flip. Any possible chance of ending the Falling is worth pursuing. “What is it?”

“I was reading legends on the Garden of Eden and all the plants it supposedly grew. But the plants were said to be magical, with each fruit it bore containing a different property. The translations were awkward and difficult to understand, even for me, but my conclusion is that a fruit from the Garden may be the cure.”

“Just any fruit?”

“That was the confusing part. The book never specified any exact fruit, and nor did it mention the Falling. I believe it was written before… everything happened.”

Lucifer was still uncomfortable when speaking of the past. It was like he tortured himself willingly, never letting go of his wrongdoings.

I frowned at the vagueness of the book’s descriptions. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter, as we don’t know the location of the Garden to begin with.”

“We don’t even know if it exists,” he reminded me. “So far, everything we’ve read has been myths and legends. That’s one of the reasons why I named this city Eden- because I’ve never truly believed that it existed. 

“Then we’ll have to start searching for anything related to the Garden of Eden, then,” I mused. “Which is nearly just as impossible considering the appalling organization of your library.”

He clutched his heart, feigning offense. “Oh, how you wound me.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop a smile from forming.

It was then when I first gave freedom to my feelings, letting them blossom like the flowering vines that climbed the stone walls.