A maze? Really?! Of all the scenarios that his mind could come up with, it was a stupid maze.

The demon groaned as he started to walk like he always fucking did these past nights. There's nothing better to do before the really fun trepidation came over to haunt him.

There wasn’t a single impressive or innovative thing about this place, just a path of perfectly trimmed hedges, a daunting wall of green that seemed to stretch on forever, always too high to climb, always too thick with leaves to go through. The sky jet-black as obsidian, added to the sense of foreboding that crept over him. Still, he didn't need many clues to figure out where he was,- or wherever the hell the dream manifested-.

17th century Paris... It had been his first and last maze ever in his billions years of life. The superiority complexes, the laughs full of hypocrisy, the obnoxious music, the dances with no rhythm, the constant humid weather, the tight suits, ooh, the suits~! He despised those THE MOST. And right now as he stood in the dream, he was in fashion, from head to toe in expensive garments and looking like a pathetic clown, and feeling out of place exactly like he did back then.

The texture of that damn cravat made his neck itch through the entire event, a rope would have been more comfortable than this. If it hadn’t been for Asmo, Azazel would have burned the entire place down and himself along with it. Nobody would've missed those revolting, pompous, curly wi-

He stumbled down the path until reaching a dead end. Instead of facing another wall of emerald grass, however, he found himself facing a stone statue that towered overhead. Azazel took a few steps back and looked up, marveling at the figure that was slightly inclined to the side. The statue loomed before him, majestic and imposing in his silk robes, wings, and halo. Each hand gripped a large stone tablet, the first inscribed with the words “Greater Glory of God and Worship of our Holy Custody.” It almost seemed to watch him with a fixed gaze, as if weighing Aze’s worth before deciding whether to bestow his divine favor.

The demon smiled "Hello, sunshine". It was Raphael, or at least rendered in hyper-realistic detail to mimic his love. Aze made a quick hand gesture to manifest a flower, but it didn't appear. He looked at his hand for a minute before trying a second time, then a third, a fourth time... nothing happened, not even a petal. 

SPLENDID!! He didn’t have any control over anything in this realm. He should've done something to stay awake, maybe help his husband with the shop, water the flowers, fix the car engine, could have helped with Raph’s research notes instead of always yawning like a… Like what exactly? 

He lifted his gaze to the tall statue once more, a deep sense of shame and frustration rising within him. "I'm sorry for being so useless,” he muttered, his voice strained.

With a defeated sigh, he sank to the ground and fixed his sights on the statue before him, the weight of his feelings pressing down like a heavy burden.

I hate feeling this faint

I hate the constant yawning

I hate my heavy eyelids

I hate all of this dreaming

I hate being so weak

“I shouldn’t be so frail.”

The archangel was silent, his stone eyes fixed on him as if in judgment. Aze felt small and insignificant beneath him. It was a strange feeling, being scolded by a statue, and despite not speaking its message was clear: he was a pathetic demon, and he’d be best to remember that.

Its lips seemed to twitch for a moment, Azazel raising an eyebrow as he stood up from the ground. He moved closer to inspect it, the mouth quivered and shaped and he wanted to decipher what might have been words. The demon froze as the statue’s mouth hung open. 

"WAKE UP!!" 

Azazel jumped, his feet kicking the covers on top of him, feeling very disoriented.

"What-" Raphael held his shoulders in place, hugging him tightly as soon as Azazel stopped moving "What happened? What’s wrong?” He cupped his face "you were crying in your sleep, what happened?" 

The demon tapped underneath his eye, feeling the trail of tears underneath his fingertips "huh, I-" he didn't know what to say.

Raphael took out a handkerchief from his jacket, drying his face "what happened?", he repeated. 

"You can talk?" he murmured, his head was spinning and felt as if it would fall off.

"What? Aze…” Raphael frowned

"Sorry. I'm just…” Azazel massaged the sides of his head, feeling a knot in his throat as if he might cry again. “I’m just dizzy and this headache is killing me." 

"Sure, let me…" Raphael replaced Aze's hands with his and quickly blessed him "Better?" 

The demon sighed relieved. “Thank you.”

“It's the least I can do.” He replied, caressing Aze’s dark hair. "Now, please. Tell me." 

"Same bullshit about feeling worthless.” 

"I'm sorry…” Raphael said quietly.

"You don't need to apologize for anything, sunshine" 

Azazel’s attempt at a reassuring tone didn’t work. The angel's gaze was sorrowful.

He hated this.