"this some therapy for the therapist your trying to pull on me right now?" He asked, curling up against the couch, glancing over at Simon. "And I wasn't worried about you doing that until now." He carefully wrapped his wings around himself, making sure not to strain any still-healimg areas. "Do you think they regret what they did? The souls down there? They all seemed genuine."
"I hope they regret what they did," Simon said, his voice slightly angry. "I think they deserve it. Well. If I know their story, then I judge them accordingly."
It was Razielle's turn to go silent, thinking things over. Simon was right, those souls down there did deserve everything that came to them. He sighed softly, wings fluffing slightly. "Are there any souls that don't deserve to be in Hell?"
"Me," he said. "I'm the only person I've met in Hell who didn't deserve to be there." He pulled on his shirt hem, twisting his fingers in the fabric. "That sounds selfish, doesn't it?"
Razielle shook his head, "no. Well, maybe to others it would." He gently patted Spook's head, watching as the the cat settled against his chest. "But like I said before, you know what you want in life. You know you don't deserve to be in Hell and are doing everything in your power to make things right. I wouldn't call that selfish, I'd call that determination."
"Determination is selfish," Simon said ruefully. "I hate wanting things for myself, but I don't know how to not want to go back to Heaven. That's sort of a lie. I don't want to get into heaven. I want Anael back." He rubbed his eyes. "Fuck. Now I'm crying."
Razielle glanced away, giving Simon some sort of privacy, knowing he most likely didn't want pity. "Do you know where they baried Anael?" He whispered softly, slowly sitting so so as to not disturb Spooks.
"In Heaven somewhere. I don't know. I wasn't allowed to attend the funeral." He wiped his eyes with the blanket. "It doesn't matter now. He's gone. It's fine. I'm fine."
Razielle nodded silently, eyes flicking around the room, not really seeing much without his glasses. He scratched Spooks behind the ears as he closed his eyes, a wave of sadness washing over him. "What was he like? If you don't mind me asking."
(not me about to cry over this T^T)
"He was always nice to me. And. . . he took me to buy new books the first Saturday of the month. I don't know how to describe him. Good. Sweet." He shrugged. "He didn't like other people. I don't know why he liked me. I'm kind of a bitch. He wasn't good and sweet to everybody else."
(aw (｡ŏ﹏ŏ))
Razielle had been a therapist long enough to handle strong emotions from his patients, though there were some times when the force of the emotion from them was so strong that, after the sessions, he had cried his heart out or become so angry that he had broken something in his office out of rage. It scared him sometimes how easily he could be affected by others emotions, how unpredictable he could become in one moment. He tilted his head tiredly and wiped away tears that prickled at the corners of his eyes. "You two sound similar. Seems to me you were the only one he could find genuine comfort in being around, where he could be himself around and not be judged or ridiculed."
Simon bit his hand, choking back a sob. “I hate that he’s gone. I hate him for dying.” His hand itched where he bit it and he pulled it put of his mouth, watching the blood seep out of where he broke his skin.
"it's hard." He whispered softly "something you never really get used to." He looked away for a moment, taking in a wavering breath and falling at his cheeks, blotting away the tears that now didn't seem to want to stop
“Yeah. Yeah, I guess so. I’m- Sorry. For being weird.” Simon crossed his arms. “I know that. . . dealing with people is what you do, but I’m sorry.”
Raz waved a hand and laughed a bit "if I had a dollar for every time someone apologized for genuinely showing emotions I'd be rich." He took another deep breath and offered a shaky smile "don't worry about it Simon, thank you for trusting me enough to share about Anaele"
“I don’t trust you,” he said defensively. “There’s a difference between liking and trusting.”
Raz shrugged "you have to like someone enough to trust them, just as you have to trust someone enough to like them, even if it's just a little bit. Either way, thanks for telling me about him."
Simon made a noise of impatience but didn't say anything else, turning on the television. It was still on the Home Shopping Network from a day and a half ago and he didn't change it, but reached out for his tea, changing his mind when he saw that his hands were still shaking. He pulled his arms back under his blanket, clenching his fists.
Razielle curled up on the corner of the couch. He watched the TV for a moment, not really paying attention or hearing it. "When did you quit?" He asked softly, nodding to Simon's shaking hands.
"Today. I've tried a few times before, but it's really fucking hard. I flushed them all down the toilet, so that's something," he said, his tone flat. He tipped his head, closing his eyes, like maybe that would make his headache go away.
Raz nodded "it's a good start, far more than what I've seen others tried, but to each there own." He peeked at the cup of tea on the table. "What made you want to stop?"
"I don't know. Maybe just to prove I can. It made me hate myself, sort of. I wish I could just stop, you know. Without the itchy feeling inside, and the shaking." He shrugged. "I guess it will all go away soon. Will you turn the heat up more?"
"it is always easier to start something than stop it, especially so suddenly. The sypmtoms will take a while to dissipate." He nodded and stood, wings relaxing behind him and turned up the heat. "Any higher and we'll catch the place on fire." He joked, taking the mostly full tea cup and bringing it to the kitchen. "The best thing you can do is try and continue your daily routine. And that includes sleep."
"I can't sleep," he said without his usual sting behind his words. "I'm tired, but I'm too cold. I don't sleep that much usually anyway." He shifted on the couch, curling in on himself tighter, pressing his hands together to stop the shaking.
"that explains your pissy mood half the time." Raz muttered, settling back down on the couch. He looked over at Simon for a few moments before patting the couch cushions beside him. "Lie down."