The Demon’s Surrender – Alan and Sin
Alan was standing at the window now, the night so dense outside the glass might as well have been painted with layers upon layers of black. He was leaning against the window pane, arms crossed over his chest. He looked so much older, or as if he had been through an illness everyone had thought would prove fatal. There were crow’s feet scored deep in the corners of his eyes and his hair was thick with silver. They had been willing to risk sacrificing his brother, she had tricked him and schemed to betray someone else, and they had won.
“I love you,” Alan said, staring out at the night. “I never dreamed you didn’t know, and then I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t think I would ever be able to tell you.”
Sin found her mouth curling. She hadn’t thought she could have it back, this being senselessly, inexpressibly happy. “Now I know.”
“It was like lying bound and gagged and dying in the dark,” Alan continued.
His voice kept snagging, wrecked and no longer beautiful. Sin didn’t know if he would sing again.
“I wouldn’t have been able to hold on, if it wasn’t for you. I’ve never had something human to hold onto before.”
“Now you do,” said Sin, and her slow steps brought her to him at last.
She stood looking up at him, returned to her past hope, at his dear tired face. Happiness spread through her, tranquil and warm, as if it would never leave again. He bowed his head down and kissed her, a deep sweet kiss that went on and on, sharing breath, as if they never had to break apart. When they did, Sin only drew back a little and looked into his eyes. They had not changed at all, still dark steadfast blue and dear.
“Alan,” she whispered.
He whispered back: “I’m here.”
Sin gathered him closer again, breached the gap of a fraction of an inch between them by pulling at his shirt until he was leaning against her, they were leaning on each other, and his mouth was almost touching hers again. Sin said: “Then hold on.”