❝ Temptation is irrelevant ❞

[thedevilsaid]

{ if your will is strong enough }
💮 open post for matthias 💮

accidentally-on-purpose ⛧ counting compulsion ⛧ historical option ⛧ overflow ⛧ wildcard

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Accidentally-on-purpose

[thedevilsaid]

They live in the same building. Oh, they’ve never met, not in any formal or meaningful way. They see each other on the elevator, maybe hold the door for one another if they’re coming or going at the same time. They bumped into each other once in the basement laundry facilities. Barely muttered ‘hellos’ and ‘good mornings’ are the only words they’ve ever exchanged.

Matthias is perfectly content to keep it that way. He’s not a neighborly sort. He chose this apartment because it suits his needs and his aesthetic, not because of the other people occupying it. And while he can occasionally get a sip of delicious sin from those in closest proximity, Matthias adheres to a ‘don’t shit where you eat’ policy. Meaning, he’ll typically leave his neighbors out of his games. He has no designs on them. That’s just to keep additional complications out of his life. Secure access means someone he’s jilted or angered or otherwise ruined can’t come knocking on his door at some ungodly hour (not that he sleeps) or worse, when he’s with someone else.

But something changed that rainy morning when Matthias spots a familiar face in a nearby coffee shop. Ah, yeah, the guy he quite literally bumped into doing his second least favorite chore: laundry. That’s where he knows that face from. Maybe it’s something about seeing him outside the usual, expected environment that shifts Matthias’ thoughts on him. Truly, he’s never given him much thought at all. Like all his neighbors, the demon’s allowed this one to simply be vague and faceless, without any rich inner life for Matthias to ponder.

Suddenly, he’s an actual person.

One who’s done nothing to deserve garnering the demon’s attention.

Their orders are called out one right after the other. By merit of being closer, Matthias gets to the counter and accidentally-on-purpose takes the other’s cup and makes his way toward what he refers to as the sugar station. He waits a beat, then two, enough time for someone to maybe peel the lid off to add cream and sugar and whatever else they like. Enough time to notice that this isn’t what they ordered. When he turns back, his neighbor is the only other person standing on this side of the counter. Turning the cup in his hand to read the name, he comes over, affixing a convincing sheepish grin to his face.

“Hi. I think this might be yours.”