One last kiss.

That's what you told yourself every time he summoned you from the pits of hell, or you ran into each other in demonic hotspots.

It doesn't always end badly, which is why you suppose you keep going back.

This time, you'd met at the corner of Park and Main, and you'd been surprised but delighted to see John in America.

He'd held the same enthusiasm, and taken your arm to lead you to his apartment.

People turn their heads as you walked by, and even the meanest among them had this special little glint in their eye when you walked by. It's a heady, intoxicating feeling, and you know John feels the same.

Seven blocks in, you trip over some uneven pavement, and John laughs, but it seems a little sad. When he laughs, those magnetizing blue eyes of his close and you can't help but be saddened by the fact that they might be lost as he gets older.

John's heart pounds at maximum capacity whenever he sees you, the blood rushing so fast that he hopes humans don't have a set number of heartbeats because your presence is sure to cut his lifespan in half.

It almost always ends badly, but John doesn't mind, he's too used to bad endings to truly care. Who really cares if he betrays you a few times, and then you betray him a few times? Its better than all that 'eye for an eye' crap.

By the time you get to his apartment, about 20 blocks away, the rain seems to have split the sky open, and lightning crashes in the distance.

The two of you are soaked to the skin, but neither of you really care as you pounce on each other, with you pushing John backwards onto the couch on his back, causing him to lose the cigarette that was held loosely between his fingers.

"Oi, play nice. Don't make me get out the holy water." John teases, and you realise it.

You love him.

Not really, but you love him like a pack of dogs, and you need him as much as you need a broken leg.

And it seems John feels the same.

"I love you like an alcoholic," John mutters between kisses, almost under his breath.