These Hallways Are Filled With Hell || Ronnie Radke and William Beckett

Too long. Too long has it been since the familiar sound of boots marching down endless, empty hallways filled the ears of the long-haired demon.
With each step the demon took, a dull pain would scratch at his insides. The brown-eyed demon knew his injuries weren’t completely healed, but he couldn’t stand spending another day hidden away under the thick, protective sheets of his bed. He had spoken to no one. Not Max, not Mitch, not a soul. He refused to eat, for every time he tried, he’d get violently ill. A side-effect caused by the holy water being injected in his veins. He refused to move, for every half inch he shifted, his bones would rub against places within his body that bones weren’t meant to rub against. Pain would rip through him and more often than not, the demon would be whimpering helplessly with his eyes squeezed tight.
But things were different now. He could move freely without wanting to scream and he could live his life again. Perhaps he would be more careful with his demonic activities, because he didn’t want to suffer the consequences of the remaining holy water that circulated in his body. The sizzling sensation was so low that he hardly noticed it, but it was definitely still there, just waiting for his demon to break free and burn up in its holy inferno. The demon had to be more cautious with his words and actions. It was a decision he had made the moment he had stared at himself in the mirror for the first time in a few days. His hair was a wavy mess, his eyes dull and filled with a dark light, quite the opposite of anything good. He looked tired and ill. He was looked thin. Pale. Unhealthy. His reflection disgusted him. He spent an hour fixing the imperfections. When he was finished, he still hated it. But still he left the room. He was becoming desperate.
Striding through the hallways made him feel powerful again, although his body was weak, he felt unstoppable. It was that cockiness that he had. That confidence that would one day get him slaughtered. It was his savior.
Running his tattooed fingers through his straight raven-black hair, the demon took a turn down a hall he normally didn’t stroll down. Only because many holy creatures lingered in that direction. What was better than to intensify that arrogance than stride down angelic hallway with his mouth set in a smirk? Absolutely nothing.
He began walked down the hall and that’s when he spotted him. Standing a head taller than a majority of the other beings, long curly hair hanging past his shoulders, walking in a way almost giraffe-like. William Beckett. A wicked glee made the butterflies in the demon’s stomach flare up and make his evil smirk grow even larger. Since he’d be locked up for so long, he was unaware of the rumors that had floated around. Ronnie was curious. What had happened to the angel during his absence?
He chuckled quietly to himself, crossing his arms over his chest, and let out a low whistle, attracting the eyes of multiple angels. When William’s eyes connected with his own brown, his lips turned up into a demonic grin. He saw something flash in the angel’s eyes. He gestured with his head for the angel to follow him. He flashed his teeth at the angel, turned on his heel, and strode away to a more deserted hallway, expecting William to be behind him. William wasn’t an idiot. Ronnie knew the angel would be curious. They did have a couple of rather important things to talk about after all.

And it breaks through my soul || Ronnie Radke and William Beckett

Having hours and hours of time to yourself a beautiful thing. Not a single person to interupt the thoughts that filterlessly trickled into the dark-haired demons mind. It was a risk to allow every and all thoughts that the demon had ever pondered to enter his mind, but he knew that occasionally risks were good and once again he was not disappointed. The older he became the less he feared his thoughts. It had only been recently that he had run into small problems with his memories of his human years.

But it wasn’t his memories he was thinking about this time. He was thinking about people and he was thinking about emotions. The demon had emotions, believe it or not. He hated, he regret, he despised, he hurt, he loved, he cared. He felt everything, but all of it was meaningless. The only things that had actual meaning were the ones that fired his hatred. And that’s where people come in. People gave those emotions meaning. For example, he hated Jared Leto. He cared about Mark Hoppus. He despised Gerard Way. He despised hunters. It was as simple as that.

But one thing that he had realized during his countless hours of thinking and making connections, made he take a step back. At first, he found it funny. But then, his cackling came to a startling halt when the idea finally sunk in. After another laugh, Ronnie found himself pulling on a leather studded jacket and striding out the door of his common room.

It didn’t take the demon long to find the Dulcis common room. He’d been there once before after all. He’d climbed his way to the bedroom door, ignoring all the looks of disgust he’d received as he’d entered. He pushed the door open silently and slipped in, brown-eyes flicking across the room to take in all the sights. Empty except for a tall, slender angel sitting cross legged on a bed with a book in his lap, pencil gripped tightly in long pale fingers, occasionally moving across the pages. Ronnie watched the angel with a smirk on his offset lips as he, oblivious to the demon’s presense, ran a hand through his wild mane of brown hair.

A chuckle rumbled deep in the demon’s chest as he approached the angel slowly. “Bilvy, how’ve you been? You look better.” The demon was upon the angel’s bed in a instant, eyes flickering darkly, sick, twisted grin on his lips. “I’ve definitely missed you and that little fucking holy glow of yours. It still stings, you know. When I get to close.” Another second ticked by and the demon’s fingers grazed over the angel’s cheek, a subtle sting pricking at the ends. Another second and a blur of color, the demon sitting before William, cross-legged with a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve been thinking, dear William.” He said, an arrogance leaking into his tone, ignoring the angel’s reaction to his abrupt bedroom appearance, eyes absorbing the holy creature’s every move.