I know that I promised no more supernaturals for a while but clearly I lied because this is one of those. And the next one will also be supernatural. But I do have other ideas planned that aren't so if you don't like supernaturals then relax, eventually my phase will go away with this. Warning for this chapter: Suicide is spoken about in a very negative manner that does not reflect my own opinion. It is simply for the story.

Hell is always seen as such a negative place. The place where you go when you've managed to screw up so badly in your real life that you deserved to end up there. You weren't worthy of heaven, the place everyone desired to reach but ultimately failed. Hell was a place where demons lurked around in the shadows behind the fiery flames that exuded warmth and light in the underworld, and hell was the place that everyone wanted to run away from.

Except Thomas. He never thought of it as such a horrid place.

It was always spoken about in such bad terms that people begun to believe that it really was the worst place you could end up after dying, but the blonde thought that it was only a myth. The fire brought warmth, the constricting stone brought comfort, and the flames also provided light. It was perfect for a dark angel like him.

Now, Thomas was considered to be a type of demon, however if you really were to brand him, then he'd be an angel of darkness. Black wings spread out from his back that were almost the size of himself, the feathers as dark as coal, bringing out his pale complexion and hair. He really liked his wings, it was one of his proudest features, even if one of them was partly defect.

That's what happens when you commit suicide.

Not only was his suicide his reason for ending up in hell, but it was also his reason for his left wing being broken. Suicide was seen as something cowardly and selfish, as everyone failed to grasp how it really worked, and that it wasn't actually an act of weakness. It took a lot of strength to take your own life, and Thomas knew that having gone through with it.

But just because he knew it, didn't mean that others did. And when he'd jumped off a twenty story building on his own accord, he was deemed unworthy of being an angel in heaven, and was sent straight down to hell, his wings quickly darkening from the white they had been. His left wing was torn to shreds as punishment for what he did, making it difficult for him to fly as well as difficult to walk on his left leg that had been badly crushed when he collided with the ground.

It was all his fault, and heaven wanted him to know that. Yea, it was safe to say that he thought hell was a lot more polite. At least here, the demons and devils didn't think suicide was twisted and sick, although a few did mock it.

Thomas sometimes wished he could have two whole wings, not one where the feathers were torn away partly, but he smiled a bit whenever he realized that it made him one of a kind, unique. He liked that, and if he had the choice between restoring his wings or keeping them the way they were, he wasn't so sure he'd restore them.

Now, a popular misconception was that creatures from hell could not fall in love, and if they did, it was only between each other. However, you never really knew when two from hell had a crush on each other, only because everything was kept so hidden from the surface that it went past everyone. It simply wasn't an important matter, unlike how it was for angels in heaven.

Thomas always laughed at how they thought. If an angel had a soulmate back on earth, they became their guardian until they passed, and if they hadn't had one before death, they'd find one somewhere up there. The blonde always shook his head at the silliness, having given up on love a long time ago. Granted, he had died at only the tender age of seventeen, but even then had he decided that it was unnecessary, and love made people do selfish things.

Love was stupid, and he hated the very word. He never understood it or how it was supposed to work. Thomas wasn't able to grasp that someone could need someone else's presence or yearn for them. It seemed so ridiculous.

Which is also why he never predicted himself to be in that situation. Being in love was too foreign for him.

It was night time, and the blonde had awoken with a smile on his face, rubbing his eyes from sleep before he stood up, trying to find his balance at first before his feet managed to stand still. The clock had hit ten, alerting everyone to awaken and set out to do their tasks and cause havoc at night. The blonde jumped for joy, getting down on his knees as he reached for a box under his bed where his weapons were.

They weren't always necessary, but they were always good to have in case an angel got in the way. He had grown to resent them over the few months he'd been dead, and the more blood he had of them on his hands, the more he enjoyed where he was. Thomas' sanity had left him quite a while ago, even before he had passed away from earth and faded from its surface.

Going over to his small drawers where his clothes lay, he got out a pair of pants and a simple white hoodie. It was slightly odd that he still wore very human clothes, but there wasn't a special costume that was required to wear, which he was slightly glad for. When he'd changed, he got two good knives from his box along with his crossbow, limping over to his door that led to the hall.

The rooms in the underworld resembled that of a dorm, a massive corridor with multiple doors, leading to each individual room. He didn't know who his two neighbors were, but he didn't care for it much. If he wasn't mistaken, the room across from him was empty as someone had managed to earn themselves a way back to earth. It was a rare possibility, but Thomas wasn't trying to get that chance. He liked being dead a lot more than living as a corpse.

Thomas walked out into the massive gathering room, seeing a bunch of devils and demons conversing, along with a few dark angels in a corner. They were more rare than the other two, as they were only a result of being cast down from heaven. Devils and demons ended up in hell directly after death, they never got the other option.

The walls were that of stone, seeing as they were all far down underneath the ground, but Thomas knew that there were three doors hidden within the uneven walls that were around him, and he started heading for his usual destination to the right. He'd been presented with the lovely task of messing with some suicidal teenager, having to bring them over the edge so that they'd end up dead like him. Thomas knew for a fact that he would've been disgusted with doing something like that when he was alive, especially because he was in the same exact situation, but now that he was dead, he no longer cared. He lacked empathy and had turned cold.

Thomas had just walked out of the underground, being greeted with the cool and crisp air of fall before he started walking through the forest. He would've flown, but he needed the little strength his wings provided for later when he was in the city. The blonde may've been able to make himself invisible, but flying made things easier for him anyway.

So there he was, walking past multiple trees and avoiding the muddy paths with his boots, failing a few times along the way. When he finally came to the small, slim road that lead into the city, he halted, readying his wings as they fluttered, creating a gust of wind that flew past his ears. He shivered, his feet finally lifting off the ground as he moved forward. It was definitely colder when Thomas flew due to the speed and wind increasing, but he managed.

The blonde went further up, seeing lights upon lights up ahead as he neared his destination. Looking down, he saw what seemed to be two of his friends in the underworld arguing, and he sighed and rolled his eyes. Arguments was why he avoided people, and therefore he didn't really have anyone where he currently lived. Not that he minded, he chose that all by himself.

Fifteen minutes passed, and he finally stopped midair as he saw the right balcony, old and metallic, not new and made from glass. Thomas flew up a bit before moving down to land lightly on the concrete of the balcony, and he glanced to the side to look into the window. He saw who he was targeting, lying in bed with a book and a small nightlight. Thomas smirked, this couldn't be too difficult.

"You're not supposed to be here." Thomas jumped at the unfamiliar voice, and he turned around so fast he was surprised he hadn't gotten whiplash. His eyes widened when he saw who was in front of him, and all he could really focus on were the two wings that were exactly the size of his own, except they were white.

He was impressed by the beauty of the angel in front of him, and he wasn't all too surprised to know that he was one with those amazing features. His hair had been thrown around and was a tousled brown mess due to the wind, and his eyes were perfectly big and rounded, dark brown pupils alert with what was before him. Thomas' eyes flickered down to his lips, seeing that they clearly needed moisture yet they were beautifully shaped anyway. He gulped as his heart skipped a beat, and the knives in his pockets begun to feel heavy.

The stranger had picked up on Thomas' features as well, stunned silent at how beautiful this tall blonde boy was, but he was quick to frown when he noticed the dark black wings, blacker than the night, adorned on his back, one seeming to be plucked apart slightly and damaged. Dylan didn't know what he was supposed to be, never having come across someone with those types of wings, and since he had only recently died, he wasn't that experienced.

"I am actually." Thomas spoke, and Dylan felt his knees grow weak when he caught onto the british accent. Never in his life had he come across a brit, but he knew that that's where the blonde was from when he heard him speak. And he really sounded amazing.

Thomas smirked, noticing that the stranger seemed to be slightly uncomfortable with his presence, and he dared to move closer as the other took a step back, colliding with the railing.

"What's your name?" The blonde asked, watching intently and seeing that the others eyes seemed dazed and confused.

"D-Dylan. You?" He straightened his posture, and Thomas only grinned wider when he caught onto his discomfort.

"Thomas." He said, reaching for one of the knives in his pocket as he knew that he'd have to get rid of Dylan, no matter how attractive he was.

"What're you?" Dylan asked, and the blonde halted entirely, shock evident as his eyes grew larger in surprise. Thomas had never met an angel that didn't know what he was, that he was dangerous and that his purpose was to cause trouble. It peaked his interest in Dylan, and he found himself no longer reaching for the knife.

"You don't know?" Thomas wanted to roll his eyes at his own question, of course he didn't or he wouldn't have asked, but it slipped out anyway.

"Haven't been an angel for that long. I only died two weeks ago." He seemed sad when he mentioned him dying, and Thomas understood in that moment that the other hadn't chosen to die. Dylan seemed so pure and innocent, sad even, but only because he was dead. At least he was an angel, a beautiful one at that, and Thomas couldn't understand how he'd grown such a soft spot for this guy so quickly.

"Well, I'm a dark angel, but also considered to be a demon." Dylan's eyes widened, and he was about to back away further when he realized he'd gone as far back as he could go. Thomas would've normally laughed, but the fear in the boys eyes were enough for him to feel terrible guilt. He was so vulnerable and scared it was almost pathetic, and yet Thomas wanted to wrap him up and tell him that it was okay. If Dylan wouldn't try anything, the blonde would keep him alive.

"I never say this because it's never true, but I won't hurt you." He spoke, shy and unsure of his words as he'd never found himself saying them before. It was out of his nature to be kind and caring, and yet here he was being exactly that.

"How do I believe that?" Thomas shrugged, eyes searching to find Dylan's in the darkness.

"You don't." The blonde said truthfully, because it was true. Angels learnt early on that you were never to trust anyone from hell, they always lied and caused bad things to happen. Even conversing with a devil in good terms was enough for the angel to be sent down to join the underworld, and in that moment Thomas realized how dangerous it was for them to be conversing the way they were.

"You know, I've never met an angel that I've wanted to keep alive." Dylan gaped at him, Thomas chuckling quietly as he grabbed the two knives he had, holding the handles out to the angel before him.

"Take them. It's the one way I can get you to trust me." Dylan did as he said, taking a hold of them as the blonde let them go, settling his arm back to his side.

"And you think saying that will make me believe you?" The angel asked, studying the blades in his hands as Thomas shook his head, not that Dylan caught onto it when he was busy looking at the knives.

"No, but it's a start. You have an advantage now." He saw a smile on Dylan's lips, and his own went upwards before he quickly frowned again.

"We really shouldn't be talking like this." The other boy looked up, hurt visible on his flawless face, even his moles were beautiful, and Thomas wanted to curse at himself for how sappy he sounded. He didn't know why he suddenly started acting so weird, and getting an answer didn't seem likely in that moment.

"Why?" The blonde wanted to roll his eyes, but then he remembered that Dylan probably didn't know the in-depth rules of how all of this worked between himself and angels.

"Do you wanna go to hell?" Dylan's eyes widen considerably again, and Thomas took that as a no, being proven right when the other started shaking his head wildly.

"Exactly. But you could end up there just by the conversation we're having now. Me and you are not supposed to be polite towards each other." His words were harsh, as if that would help him make his point, but it seemed to work as Dylan cowered under his gaze.

"Why not? You seem nice. It's almost odd that you're in hell." Thomas rolled his eyes, letting a sarcastic laugh leave his lips as he groaned. Dylan was so oblivious and naive, but on him it was kind of adorable.

"I'm in hell for a reason, okay? Don't question it. But you, you don't seem like someone that should end up there. You've done nothing wrong except talk to me, and I highly suggest that you leave now before I see you down there." Once he was finished, the other boy seemed to hang his head down in shame, his wings beginning to flutter as he lifted off the ground again, getting ready to go back up to where he came from. Thomas felt an odd tear in his heart, and he grabbed his chest out of reflex.

Dylan started to fly away, but he turned around and flew closer to Thomas again, hovering in the air in front of the blonde with only the railing distancing them.

"I understand you're there for a reason, you must be. But the fact that you're worried enough to keep me where I'm from and letting me go shows me that you're still a very caring person. Dark angel or not." Thomas looked at the angel before him, smiling slightly at his kindness, but he sighed as he realized that them talking couldn't happen again. And he fell into a deeper sadness at the naivety of this boy. Thomas wasn't a good person, he never cared, so why did Dylan say something like that with so much conviction and certainty, like he knew that it was the truth? It made no sense, and yet the blonde wanted to believe him.

He was about to say something to Dylan again, but then he realized that the other had already flown away once more, and all Thomas could make out was his fading figure further away before he disappeared. Now it was only Thomas left on that balcony, alone, as if no other had ever stepped foot on it. As if he hadn't just had a conversation with some stranger. And then he realized, Dylan still had his knives.

Thomas wanted to feel sick to his stomach when an unknown bubble of joy surged through him at the thought of having to cross paths with him at some point in the near future again, only because the other had something that belonged to him.

The blonde knew that he wasn't supposed to leave his task behind without having completed it, or at least getting there, but he suddenly didn't feel like doing anything anymore. He was oddly tired, even though he'd only awoken two or three hours ago. Thomas assumed it was around one in the morning, and he looked through the window one last time to see that whoever he was supposed to manipulate, was already asleep now.

And with that he took off into the night again, trying to ignore that a certain angel made its way into his thoughts repeatedly before he fell asleep a few hours later.

A month went by, and though it passed quite quickly, Thomas had never felt it go any slower. Every day he spent thinking about Dylan, but he always played it down by saying that he only thought of him because he still had the blondes knives in his grasp. That was his pathetic excuse, and he knew that it was a lie. And the worst part of it all was that he'd started to understand what he was feeling.

He was falling for this beautiful stranger. The moment he'd realized that, all hell had broken loose, and his room looked like it had been hit by a tornado now. The blonde didn't even bother to clear it up, knowing that it'd probably turn into a second disaster the more he thought about what he felt.

Thomas had never seen it as a possibility for him, it was never an option, and yet here he was, a month later, desperately trying to rid of what he had given up on so long ago. But he couldn't run from it, and the fact that he was trying to was utterly pointless. He would fail. And the one thing he still couldn't grasp was how Dylan had been so different. He was an angel, the type that Thomas resented and killed, and yet he'd left the boy standing to fly away with his two knives.

The blonde couldn't understand or process how his own mind worked in such an odd way. He'd met this person once, they talked for half an hour, he was supposed to hate him. Nothing made sense as he groaned and hit his head against the wall besides his bed. It hurt considering his walls consisted of stone, but it wasn't unbearable. Oddly enough, he liked the pain that shot through him.

He'd sat in his room for an hour now, sulking in his own misery when he could've gone outside and distracted himself, maybe helped a cowardly kid throw himself off a bridge. He laughed quietly when he realized how similar that sounded to his own suicide. Throwing himself off a building seemed very similar to a bridge, except the impact would be different.

Something seemed to click in his mind in that particular second, and he decided on a whim that he could visit the place he'd hurled himself from a few months back. Not having anything to do at the moment, he headed out quickly, walking through the same forest before setting flight to head to the office building where his dad may or may not still work. He wasn't sure, seeing as his parent probably wouldn't want to work in the building where his son committed suicide, but it was always a possibility.

Thomas eventually landed on the rooftop, only to see a figure already sitting by the edge of where he'd stood himself. He rolled his eyes when he saw the white wings on the persons back, going over slowly before clearing his throat rather harshly. The stranger jumped, falling from the building, and if he hadn't had wings he would've fallen to his death. Unfortunately, he adorned two beautiful white wings, and when he flew back up to face the blonde, Thomas saw that it wasn't just any angel.

It was Dylan, and his heart skipped a beat just at the sight of him. Thomas wanted to hit himself for letting his heart beat, even if he was technically dead.

"Thomas." The blonde glanced over at him, seeing that Dylan had sat down again and patted the spot next to him, inviting the boy over. Thomas reluctantly sat beside him, hating himself for doing what the other said so easily.

"We shouldn't be talking." Thomas started, but Dylan quickly shushed him as he held out the blondes knives. He took them gratefully from the other, putting them in the pockets of his jacket before he spoke.

"You kept them? Why're you giving them back?" He found himself questioning, trying to make sense of the situation.

"I trust you enough." Dylan said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world, and yet Thomas saw it as something so much more complex. It should've been more complex than it was.

"You've only met me once." The blonde stated, as if that would make Dylan turn around and go away before saying something as stupid as trusting Thomas.

"But I've thought of you more than that." Thomas' breathing hitched, and he looked out at the city completely alert and aware of what Dylan had just said. Of course he'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought of the darker haired boy on multiple occasions, but the dangers of admitting that were all too clear for him.

"I knew I recognized you somehow. You were in the newspaper a few months before I passed." The blonde felt his figure freeze as his blood turned cold, and he felt more constricted out in the open now than he'd ever felt in his tiny room underneath the ground. When he looked at Dylan, the boy was already looking back at him, an uneasy and sad look on his face that the blonde wanted to make disappear.

"I never read that article. Didn't need to. I was right here for it." Thomas gaped at him as it all sunk in, except it never really did. He wasn't able to process that Dylan had been there the day he died, it seemed so far out there. It seemed utterly crazy and unrealistic. The coincidence of them meeting now later on again seemed so impossible.

"I was walking past the building from school, and then I hear something from a bit further away, then there's screaming. When I go to take a look, I see a boy on the ground with blood pooling around him, eyes wide awake and his limbs all over the place in uncomfortable positions. He's not breathing, yet he seems so calm, his eyes aren't afraid despite being awake. It was you." The blonde listened to every word he said, the detail of it telling him that Dylan wasn't lying to him. He'd been there, and now he was sitting on the roof of where it'd all taken place.

"Why're you here exactly?" Dylan glanced at him, a small and barely there smile on his lips before he sighed.

"I've been trying to understand. It all seems so absurd to me, I can't grasp the concept of suicide, and I want to understand you. As soon as I realized it was you, I started going here. I'll always look down and try to grasp it. I'm trying to learn how someone could have the type of strength it takes to jump from here." He finished, and the blonde was amazed at his choice in words and the way he spoke. He seemed so sophisticated and aware, and Thomas had never had a greater urge to kiss someone before. And so that's what he did.

He reached over to place his hand on Dylan's cheek, caressing it softly, and the blush he received in return gave him the confidence to lean forward. Their noses touched, and Dylan looked down at the blondes lips just in time for them to reach his own. It was quick and not very thought out, and their hearts both raced as they looked into each others eyes. There was an unspoken connection when they looked at one another, and not a single second passed before they let their lips meet again.

Dylan let one of his hands fall to Thomas' waist, settling there as they deepened the kiss, and the blonde felt like he was losing his entire balance to the point where he could fall off the building again. Dylan, however, prevented that with the grip he had on him.

They pulled away, both of them breathless but wanting more at the same time. Dylan gave Thomas a shy smile, one that the blonde wanted to return, but it was ruined when he realized what they'd just done. Dylan seemed to realize his change in mood, and he frowned quickly.

"Did I screw up? I screwed up didn't I?" He seemed genuinely worried, and it broke Thomas' heart as he shook his head.

"Not the kiss. And if anyone screwed up, it's me. I'm supposed to know more out of us two. I've been dead a lot longer." He jumped off the roof, his wings quickly catching him and making him stand in front of Dylan, who only looked on in confusion.

"What're you on about?" Thomas didn't say anything, he shook his head as a single tear slipped from his eye. He knew that he wasn't supposed to kiss Dylan, he couldn't, and yet he had. And now Dylan was likely to go through the worst, only because the blonde wasn't able to help himself.

"When we met, you told me that I seemed to care about you because I was letting you go. If I cared, I would've never kissed you." And the blonde was gone just like that, leaving Dylan behind, utterly heartbroken and confused.

He soon understood why though.

As soon as he'd gone back to heaven, one of the guards was waiting for him by the gates, a disappointed scowl on his face as he shook his head. Dylan didn't understand at first, only following the guard to one of the people in charge of casting people out of heaven. He was terrified when he stood before him, and as soon as they declared him fallen, a lightbulb went on in his head, and he knew. When his wings slowly started to wash away the white, he gasped and shook as tears fell down his cheeks. In that moment he was fully aware that he'd been thrown out of heaven due to a kiss he'd shared with someone.

And not just anyone. It had been someone special to him that at the same time was supposedly so terribly cruel and dangerous for Dylan to even talk to.

It was then that he realized that heaven wasn't as great as he'd thought, and when his eyes shut, the last thing he thought as his body fell, was that he didn't regret a thing. Everything grew eerily quiet as he was unconscious, falling with his darkened wings before appearing in the gathering room in the underworld, but not being aware of it yet.

A blonde boy perked up from the wall he'd been leaning against, and as soon as he recognized Dylan, a broken smile was visible as he walked over to the unconscious angel he'd been expecting. Well, at least that's what he had been. Now he was fallen, someone like Thomas, and the blonde couldn't help but think how wrong it was for Dylan to be here with him.

A crowd had formed around them, some of them mumbling when Thomas had crouched down and touched Dylan's cheek lightly, showing that he knew the boy that was now here with them. A few people asked him questions that he didn't bother to pick up on, and he only continued looking on at the boy he adored.

An hour passed, then two, and finally the boy groaned as his limbs started moving, indicating that he'd awoken. His brown eyes opened, looking straight into the blondes that were alert and worried for his well being. When Dylan gave a smile, Thomas breathed out a sigh of relief, laughter leaving his lips when he knew that the boy lying in front of him was okay.

He helped Dylan to his feet, wanting to kiss him again but not daring to cause a scene, and so all he did was put his arms around him, admiring the wings that were now charcoal black, mirroring his own, and he found himself saying three simple words.

"Welcome to hell."