Categories > Original > Fantasy > One Hell of an Angel
Claude suddenly sat up and stormed over to the small window on the other side of the room. He wrenched it open and leaned out, staring at the drab street below. With a deep sigh, he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and shook one out into his hand, searching with his other hand for his lighter.
"Claude, that's a filthy habit." Grey wrinkled his nose as his brother lit the tobacco, still unused to how strong his human form's sense of smell was. "Please put it out."
"Oh, come on. It's none of your business," Claude muttered. He took a long drag on the cigarette, closing his eyes as he exhaled a stream of white smoke.
"Well, it's going to make Joan and myself smell bad, as well."
"I'm leaning out the window, aren't I?"
"Claude . . ." Grey shook his head, unsure whether he should be irritated or amused. "It's bad for you, at any rate."
Claude snorted derisively. His twin had always been preachy, so by this point he had learned to filter his concern out. It was as though he could take a little knob in his brain labeled 'Grey' and simply switch it off.
Joan had nothing to say - but then again, she really never said anything unless she had to. Right now, she was just marveling at this eccentric pair of brothers. They were such complete opposites, and yet something about them seemed so strongly similar . . .
"Oh, fine! If it really annoys you-" Claude turned around and glared at Grey, who had one hand over his nose and was coughing slightly. "I'll just go outside." Before either of them could protest, Claude brushed past them and went out into the hallway, heading for the street outside the apartment complex.
The door slammed, and Joan found herself alone with the blonde Cordon twin. He smiled encouragingly and sat in a seat next to her, crossing one leg over the other and folding his hands on his knee.
"He's very . . ." She struggled for words, trying to make a conversation but terrified of offending the gorgeous man sitting beside her. ". . . unique."
Grey laughed quietly. "You could say that. He's very different from the rest of our family, certainly."
Joan hesitated, then finally asked the question that had been bothering her for a while. "What did you mean, when you first said he was . . . the 'black sheep' of the family?"
Grey's calm smile faltered momentarily. "Well, Claude . . . Claude was disowned," he admitted softly. "It's not something either of us like to talk about," he added, before Joan could even open her mouth to ask why. "Of course, our Father still loves him very much, but Claude unfortunately doesn't think much of Him."
"Oh . . ." Joan felt as though she had pried into something very personal - something she shouldn't have asked about - but curiosity forced her to keep going. "But you still visit him."
Grey's smile returned, and he chuckled again as he brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Yes. I love my brother very, very much. And, though he won't by any means admit it, he loves me. But . . . sometimes I find myself very disappointed by the decisions Claude makes." His beautiful face darkened slightly, and he lowered his voice as he spoke. "You see, Joan, Claude has the potential to be . . . an extraordinarily good person. He has more of a potential than most people, actually. But because our . . . family . . . expects him to be immoral, he doesn't think there's any gain in trying to be good."
"You know him so well," Joan whispered, somewhat in awe of Grey's confident assessment.
"We've always been very close. He knows me just as well." He turned to smile at her, trying to lift the mood and change the subject. "Sometimes it's like we're the same person."
"But sometimes it's like you're not related at all," Joan pointed out. "You're so different."
"Yes. We used to joke that we were like a yin-yang," Grey told her. "He was the black, and I was the white . . . he's always been somewhat darker in spirit than I." He leaned back and looked at Joan, tilting his head thoughtfully to the side. "However, deep down, he's still . . . a very good, compassionate person. He just refuses to cooperate with the good part of his soul."
"Claude, that's a filthy habit." Grey wrinkled his nose as his brother lit the tobacco, still unused to how strong his human form's sense of smell was. "Please put it out."
"Oh, come on. It's none of your business," Claude muttered. He took a long drag on the cigarette, closing his eyes as he exhaled a stream of white smoke.
"Well, it's going to make Joan and myself smell bad, as well."
"I'm leaning out the window, aren't I?"
"Claude . . ." Grey shook his head, unsure whether he should be irritated or amused. "It's bad for you, at any rate."
Claude snorted derisively. His twin had always been preachy, so by this point he had learned to filter his concern out. It was as though he could take a little knob in his brain labeled 'Grey' and simply switch it off.
Joan had nothing to say - but then again, she really never said anything unless she had to. Right now, she was just marveling at this eccentric pair of brothers. They were such complete opposites, and yet something about them seemed so strongly similar . . .
"Oh, fine! If it really annoys you-" Claude turned around and glared at Grey, who had one hand over his nose and was coughing slightly. "I'll just go outside." Before either of them could protest, Claude brushed past them and went out into the hallway, heading for the street outside the apartment complex.
The door slammed, and Joan found herself alone with the blonde Cordon twin. He smiled encouragingly and sat in a seat next to her, crossing one leg over the other and folding his hands on his knee.
"He's very . . ." She struggled for words, trying to make a conversation but terrified of offending the gorgeous man sitting beside her. ". . . unique."
Grey laughed quietly. "You could say that. He's very different from the rest of our family, certainly."
Joan hesitated, then finally asked the question that had been bothering her for a while. "What did you mean, when you first said he was . . . the 'black sheep' of the family?"
Grey's calm smile faltered momentarily. "Well, Claude . . . Claude was disowned," he admitted softly. "It's not something either of us like to talk about," he added, before Joan could even open her mouth to ask why. "Of course, our Father still loves him very much, but Claude unfortunately doesn't think much of Him."
"Oh . . ." Joan felt as though she had pried into something very personal - something she shouldn't have asked about - but curiosity forced her to keep going. "But you still visit him."
Grey's smile returned, and he chuckled again as he brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Yes. I love my brother very, very much. And, though he won't by any means admit it, he loves me. But . . . sometimes I find myself very disappointed by the decisions Claude makes." His beautiful face darkened slightly, and he lowered his voice as he spoke. "You see, Joan, Claude has the potential to be . . . an extraordinarily good person. He has more of a potential than most people, actually. But because our . . . family . . . expects him to be immoral, he doesn't think there's any gain in trying to be good."
"You know him so well," Joan whispered, somewhat in awe of Grey's confident assessment.
"We've always been very close. He knows me just as well." He turned to smile at her, trying to lift the mood and change the subject. "Sometimes it's like we're the same person."
"But sometimes it's like you're not related at all," Joan pointed out. "You're so different."
"Yes. We used to joke that we were like a yin-yang," Grey told her. "He was the black, and I was the white . . . he's always been somewhat darker in spirit than I." He leaned back and looked at Joan, tilting his head thoughtfully to the side. "However, deep down, he's still . . . a very good, compassionate person. He just refuses to cooperate with the good part of his soul."
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