She found him standing in front of her trailer. She wanted to do one final sweep around the place in case she needed anything. Sadly, he trailer was parked behind the outdoor stage so hopefully, she wouldn't want to bump into him.

But clearly life had some serious hate on Delilah.

Because there he was.

Standing outside her door before another big show.

She quickly walked into her trailer, not wanting the rest of the public to see this mess unfold. 

The door shut behind them both.

"Delilah!" Ryland grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. "Where have you been?!" he asked.

Her hair slapped against her cheeks. He cupped her cheek, skin cold as the dead and searched her empty eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked her again.

"Yes," she croaked.

"Don't lie to me!" His voice heightened, his other hand gripping her shoulder.

"Yes!" she screamed in his face. She shook off his hand. "What do you want Ryland?"

Hurt flashed across his face before it was buried by that familiar darkness she once knew. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Then talk," she snapped, barely letting him finish the sentence.

Her breath shook, hands trembling as she shoved them in her cardigan pockets to hide this unstable state. She didn't tell him about the baby. There was no point to telling him anything. The damage has already been done.

Where he was the night she needed him... who knows.

Ryland didn't notice her anxiety, too engrossed by the tightness of her face. "I want to tell you something."

"Fucking say it then!"

He sucked in sharp breath, rocking on the balls of his feet. Then he stopped and dropped his hands. "I haven't been honest with you."

Her silence led him to continue.

"You're familiar with how I record different sounds. At first, I never recorded them for the band. I recorded it for me. I was never exposed to these things. So I wanted to keep them—take a piece of them away and keep them for my memory in case everything went downhill. These sounds—it reminded me how real this was—how everything was here. Here—it's much more authentic and real and different."

"Why do you keep saying 'here'?" She crossed her arms even tighter across her chest as if that could protect her heart.

Ryland took a step towards her but she took another step back. "Delilah, I never had that memory loss condition. I know who you are. I always knew. I'm angel. You're the Devil."

She took more steps back, but Ryland kept persisting forward. His voice grew louder. "You weren't supposed to come here. On Earth. This was my escape from it all—the universe, the spiritual world and all that fucked up shit. It's much simpler here!" he exclaimed.

"This whole time you told me you built relationships off of trust," she said in a whisper. She stopped moving backwards and stood her ground.

"Delilah—"

"Why the fuck would you make a sick lie about that?!"

He clenched his fists and screamed. "Because I didn't want you! The more we were together, the more fucked up our world became! Don't you understand?! I needed to get away. Hell wasn't an option and there was no fucking way I was going back to those angels. Earth was my only choice!"

"Or maybe you could confront your fucking problems instead of running away!" She took a step forward but he stayed put, the gap between them closing.

"You know staring at a problem with its horns isn't the best thing," he whispered.  "Sometimes it's better to just walk off and know when to quit."

"So why did you put this off hm? Why did you put this conversation off?!" Her eyes were glowing black.

Ryland felt the hairs on his body stand.

"Things were going well! I was pursuing a career in this human life and you were here and I thought—I thought this could work! I could have both!" he defended.

"And?!"

"Because I was still making a choice!"

"What fucking choice, Ryland?!" Her voice strained, her demon screech melted in that desperate cry.

"Either this or"—He spread his arms out, the notion reaching towards the stage outside and to the screaming fans who chanted his name. Then his arms dropped and he motioned to her. "Or you."

"And?!" She stepped forward. "What did you pick?! This fucking filthy rich, rock star life where everyone loves you for something you're not. Or are you going to fucking face your problems, face me and deal with the bullshit you made for yourself."

"Don't make it sound like this life is horrible! It's not, okay?! I worked hard to get where I am!" His face erupted in this redness, cheeks puffing in anger.

"I didn't just get everything fucking handed to me because I had dark powers," he shouted. "Things aren't served on golden platters—not in the angel world and definitely not here! I worked hours, put sweat and time and passion and hope into this human life I built for myself!"

He threw his hands up and added, "That's probably something you don't even understand!"

Her eyes widened and he continued to throw more shade. "So don't fucking make it sound like this gift just came to my door step and that it'd be 'greedy' or irresponsible or me to take this opportunity!" Ryland cried out. "This is a privilege—this life that's waiting for me as soon as I get on that stage? A privilege! I worked hard for it!"

"And you didn't work hard for us?!" Delilah screamed and Ryland flew back, his hip crashing into the makeup counter.

"I worked hard in our relationship!" An icy blue colour pooled into his eyes, his eyes glowing now. "I tried so fucking hard to make it work!" His voice shot forward, hurling Delilah against the dresser.

She scoffed a smile, hair falling across one eye. "Oh baby, you're messing with the wrong demon."

She threw herself forward, pinning Ryland to the ground. "If you tried everything would've turned out fine!" she shot.  

He growled and kicked her off, her body rolling across the floor. "It's more like you didn't try! You were just as afraid as I was!"

"Was not!?"

"You fucking hate commitment!  You throw away the people who want to be with you and you did it three bloody times!  You're more of a runaway bride than an actual Devil!"

She didn't even wait to stand as she tackled him down, the two crashing into the glass table. His head hit the ground first, the floor cracking under his head. "You bitch!" His scream shot her body up, her back cracking against the ceiling before she dropped down.

He stumbled up, wiping his swollen lip and stumbled towards her. "You expect me to give my own life for someone who isn't going to give theirs up?" he spat.

"Haven't you already given up yours?!"

"Don't make this just about me!" he shouted.

She propped her elbows up and stood to her feet. "Why not? Isn't this what this conversation is about? You making a choice?!"

"But you're a part of my choice!" he asked.

"I'm part of your option," she said.

She never saw his eyes glow this much. "I want to choose you!" he declared. "I've always wanted to choose you! But how can I trust you if every time someone puts themselves out there for you, you run away! Clearly that's been working for you so why ruin your perfect streak."

"Running away isn't the answer!" Delilah yelled in outrage. "I'd fucking know that since I'm apparently the fucking expert! You can't run away from your fears, because no matter how fucking far you run, they will always catch up to you. Although you may want to be in the low tide, eventually it's gonna come around and you're going to have to face the high waves—it may swallow you whole, it may drown you with everything it's got, but you mind as well face it then have your back to it."

"So you're telling me to throw myself out there. To you. When I have a perfectly good safety net that I've actually worked to create. How can I trust you, Delilah?! The thought of relying on someone or giving your life to someone is fucking beyond your comprehension! You left the altar three fucking times because you couldn't sell your soul to the person you loved!" Ryland said.

"I didn't love them the way I loved you!"

The bulbs above them burst and the darkness consumed their vision. Their eyes both stopped glowing and suddenly Ryland never felt so cold in his life.

Delilah whispered to him, "It's funny because you called yourself the boys of the dark, telling everyone to get lost with you. But I just hope you're okay. You are truly a boy of the dark. Lost in the darkness: lost in the money, the girls, and the fame. Let's just hope you find your way back."

He felt the only warmth of the room begin to walk away, and the cold continued to eat more of him. "Delilah." She kept moving. "You expect me to give my own life for someone who isn't going to give theirs up?" he repeated.

"Haven't you already given up yours?" She turned her back and walked away.

"Delilah."

The door groaned, a limited puddle of light pooling into the dark room, her figure pausing by the doorway.

Then the door closed.

Delilah smoothened her hair and stepped into the hallway, her magic cleaning her up in time to see the band manager waiting. "He's all yours," she told him and disappeared through the shadows.

+++

A/N: I think I'm going to cry...

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xx 3.14