Dreams Aren't Always Pleasant

As they sat in the restaurant, Mars hastily doodled down a picture from one of his daydreams. He knew that he and Priestly weren't real demon hunters, but he liked to pretend they were. He hadn't touched his plate of food, he was too busy with his crayons, sketching out a fierce looking demon that Priestly was valiantly fighting.

He glanced up at Priestly, looking at what his face looked like so he could capture it properly. He knew it was almost unnecessary for him to do so, after drawing him so many times, but he liked looking at Priestly, even if he'd never admit it.

"Mars, more doodles?" asked Priestly, raising an eyebrow. "You were at it all day yesterday, too--we're in a restaurant, now. Don't you think you could put down the crayons for just a minute? Your cheeseburger will get cold."

He sighed deeply, taking a small bite of his veggie burger. A strand of blond hair slipped out of place and into his face; he didn't bother trying to fix it. His hair never remained slicked back for long.

"Marsy, this fixation you have with your daydreams is growing unhealthy...your first and foremost passion in life should be the Lord. You understand, don't you?"

"It is." He said slowly, setting down his red crayon. Yes, he liked Priestly with streaks in his hair. "The Lord is my savior, my calling, my life. I just like to draw.

"Is there something wrong with that?" He reached for his burger, but before that, he pushed it away. "...I'm not hungry."

He frowned deeply. "Mars, you must eat. It's not an optional function for human beings--please don't ascend to Sainthood through starvation, I'd be very lonely."

He smiled wryly, pushing his own plate toward Mars.

"Perhaps you could try some of mine? It's good. Better than wafers." He winked.

"I'm just not hungry..." he muttered, turning back to his drawing. Something felt very wrong about this Priestly. He didn't like him as much...

"Come on, Mars. Don't make me tickle you in a public place." He cleared his throat, attempting to hide the look of mischief in his eyes.

"I know the best tickle spots on a person."

"You won't touch me in public," he replied, glancing up. "You barely touch me when we're alone."

He frowned deeply, feeling a sudden surge of disgust. He broke the crayon in his hand before he even realized what he was doing. Gasping slightly, he looked at the broken red. He had never found a red he liked better than this one.

"Look what you made me do!" He said angrily, slamming the crayon onto the table, further damaging it. He really wasn't sure why he was so angry. Suddenly, he just felt disgusted...

He knew that wasn't right, though. He was in love with this man; he had been since they had first met. However, being a 'man of the Lord' it had never progressed very far. Still, for whatever reason, Mars felt like something was just horribly off, suddenly.

"...I think I should take a nap."

His smile vanished.

"...Marsy, are you ill? You're worrying me horribly, lately--if I make you some soup at home, will you consider eating? Give an old priest some peace of mind."

"I...maybe." He said, looking down at his picture. He ran his fingers over the picture, feeling the waxy crayon colors. "Yeah, maybe I should go home and rest..."

He glanced up. "S-sorry."

He smiled, trying to hide his alarm.

"Don't worry--I'll make you some soup, and put on nice music, and stoke your hair while you rest. How does that sound, Marsy?"

He just sighed.

"...I guess." He mumbled, completely unenthusiastically.