The moon glistened softly, reflecting off his eyes like stars bottled in ice. Michael seemed to notice a similar thing, how your hair looked so soft under the blue haze of the moon.

After hours of arguing over nonsense, finally, you had paused. The only sound came from the wind and the cicadas chirping quietly in the grass like a chorus of wingmen- rooting for you both to finally notice your emotions.

“I hate that you think you’re better than me. I’m the spawn of Satan.” He tried to argue, but his words came out weak. Honestly, he was just using the heat of the moment to get that off his chest.

Your confusion registered to Michael, and he elaborated silently. The moon shone red by his mental command, the cicadas silenced all at once. simple waves of the hand and he had what he wanted- even if this was just a stupid attempt to woo you into his arms.

Michael couldn’t tell why he wanted that- he had never needed anyone before, other than Ms Mead. But a person? His person? Someone to love and cherish, someone to accept him and care for him. That appealed to Satan’s son in a way he never thought it would.

Power was what he wanted— but he was quickly realising more power came from these feelings than anywhere else. Like a magnetic pull, you were irresistible.