a million miles from home i'm walking ahead

( great big bag of dicks. )

there’s a smile spreading across his features as he’s stepping forward
   hands outstretched. he’s pleased. hands come into contact with the
   warm skin of his brother’s face, thumbs brushing across the high arch of
   the bones of his cheeks.

’ no. gabriel. you have done nothing wrong.
     the pagans were a threat. something that
     could never care for you or heaven.
     you’ve done well, brother. i’m proud of you. ’

    part  of  him  –  D A R K,  hidden,  secretive  –
    drinks  in  his  brother’s  praise,  leans  into   his
    brother’s  touch,  cold  though  it may  be,  even
    while the  rest of him  reels back  at the  contact
    &  he very  nearly physically repels  lucifer in his
    loathing at his brother’s touch —–
           —–  but crimson-stained  hands reach  up,
    clasp onto lucifer’s wrists & cling as desperately
    as  if  his   brother  were  a  lifeline,   amber  eyes
    dull with shock fixated on his brother’s ice blue,
    knowing    nothing    else    to   look   to   in   his
    floundering                                                      state.

                      “ they were my friends. ”