The scolding water flowed over his skin, falling, cleansing, removing the frigid dust away from his body. No matter the temperature it wouldn't harm him, change him, even forgive him for the things he’d done. Placing his head against the wall he closed his eyes, his strong frame tensing as his thoughts raged within his mind.
He was, so called, the God of Love. His very being, every single breath, supposedly dedicated to the very name given to him by his all-powerful Father. He’d watched the mortals, for what seemed to be an eternity, learning, understanding, realising that each of them possessed the capacity for such beauty it defied his every negative thought. For each moment he’d seen love fail, falling to dust, withering to nothing, he’d scribed against his very mind the moments that cured. The words that healed all. Held all. Kissed all and created such love that the heavens themselves rejoiced.
But he, this God, this more than mortal being, had once again fallen to a path not of his making. He held grace within his very touch, his voice holding the sweetest whispers to melt the sternest hearts imaginable, as well as the very kisses that could equal the sun within their solar system. He, above all the Gods, truly understood the finite chance to truly find the perfect affection. Love, for all, was but a thought away. To hold, to harbour a heart, was the dearest and most precious gift a person could give to another. Selfless moments, the holding of a hand, the capturing of despair. All within the boundaries of love. His love.
He, however, failed on so many occasions. He understood, all that needed to be understood. Each word, meaningful, each moment, precious, any act, looked upon with so many, many varying emotions. The water continued to flow as he looked to the stars above. The flaming water, still continuing to flow over his naked frame, warmed him, held him, trying to somehow free him from his own personal proclaimed bonds. He knew the answer, the answers held within the very cage that would and should allow each and every person, be they a God or not, freedom. He held all the keys, to his mind, heart and very soul.
He opened his mouth, taking the very air filled with fire into his lungs, and then exhaled with such force, that the ground below his feet shook upon hearing his thundering voice exclaim his frustration. Even the Gods felt pain, fear, as well as mercy for their own failings. He’d lived long enough, since the beginning of time, to know when he was defeated. Falling, as hard as he had fallen, for the God of pleasure was but a mistake of many. He adored pleasure, loved pleasure, but the differences were just enough to crack his very name in two.
Since the very beginning of their time, they’d noticed each other. From the shadows, within the light of day, playing the very dance of attraction that they’d both played on many, many occasions. To him, pleasure was but an indulgence, a gratification of thoughts, the inclination to have what you desired. As he found, after the shortest of times, that pleasure was but a passing second shared between many moments. The skin, the very flesh surrounding his screams, felt her touch over and over again. His love, his very name, becoming the name upon her thoughts and he had glowed. He truly ascended, upon the day they first shared their pleasure. The dance be done, the first kiss shared, then pleasure being something they both willingly embraced.
The snake, the wrapping of bodies within each other, curled together in such passion that even thunder failed to arouse them from their indulgence. Her grace, her never ending desire, tasting each other, placing his hands onto her body, fuelled his affection and this is where he fell. He knew that it could happen. He could see it, sense it, been taught the lesson by many a mortal, but being a God, surely, meant that he was above such things.
He was not. The truth of pleasure is that it could never be contained to one. With two. Or three. It never ended. The constant pursuit of new and exciting debauchery. To indulge, to coddle, the pampering of wanton desire meant a never-ending supply of selfish thoughts. He was more than pleasure. He was love and everything contained within the very word. He loved all, his energy never ending, yet to love one above all others, meant a sacrifice of sanity and safety. He’d fallen for pleasure, denied himself the safety of a kiss for all upon his thoughts, which meant that he now had to break the very power that he held within him.
His innocent heart, within his very chest, had cracked in two. His fists clenched as another silent scream echoed from his open lips, teeth baring their anger, every muscle tensing to the very extreme. He was impressive to all of the other Gods. A statue of pure perfection, his body being that of love, attention, focus and finesse. He’d dedicated his love, his affection, into becoming the object of love for any who looked upon him. An example, the example, for someone such as the Goddess of Desire to indulge her every whim. He ached, his every thought stumbling, as he reminded himself of the sins that her lips had committed upon him.
He smashed a fist into the wall, sending shards splattering around the surrounding area. He had lost control, he’d lost himself, with the very promise that he’d made being broken. He was not supposed to fall, he was not permitted to love but one, as his love was for all.
Tears rose within his mind, sending the thought to his eyes and, for the smallest of seconds, a tear escaped and fell to the ground. It seemed to happen in slow motion, as he watched the singular tear fall, all of his pain, his desire, his loss and longing, contained within that one tear. The moment, done. The thoughts, lost. He feared for what happened next as the tear struck the ground.
The earth beneath his feet cracked, shattering under the very weight of the suffering contained within such a precious thought. He’d never shed a tear before this very moment. He stood straight, stepping away from the destruction he’d caused. The very earth beneath his feet was precious, to all of them, with any building being a substance of their creation. No God, or mortal, would destroy what came before them. It was but a crater, a crack within a stone, but it was enough.
He felt the air around him change, pressing against him, as his view changed to black and then the falling started. He fell. He fell within the darkness. Faster and faster, with moments vanishing amongst his vacant view. He was falling from the heavens, cast aside, thrown away from his home, and then… .
Opening his eyes, blinking a few times, he threw aside the sheets. He lifted himself from the bed and walked over to the window. Looking into the city, the mortal city, he knew that he’d been cast aside, and he could not blame his Father, due to his very conduct over the last hundred years. He’d broken rules. He’d loved another forsaking the many. His very name becoming an indulgence of pleasure.
He closed his eyes, rubbing them softly with his fingers, trying to possibly erase the sight from existence but this was very, very real. His Brothers, as well as Sisters, had been sent here before to learn a lesson but this felt different, serious, maybe even final. He had a lesson to learn and, sooner or later, he’d come to realise exactly what that lesson would be.
The view seemed, to his weary eyes, magical. He’d seen the world from up above, looking down upon them all, for the longest time imaginable. He’d watched them crawl from the oceans, from their caves, scavenging, fighting, rolling around in the forsaken earth until they’d found peace. They no longer prayed to the Gods, as they once did, instead finding new Gods within their phones and devices. This supposed punishment, the exile of his faith to this existence, did not faze or trouble his soul. He loved the mortals, washed himself with their daily affection for one another, while secretly wishing that he could walk amongst them. That wish, for the moment, was here and he smiled for the briefest of seconds before recalling his thought mere moments ago.
From behind him he heard a knock from the door. He turned, his head slightly cocked to the side, wondering who could possibly be on the other side. For a couple of seconds, he stared at the door, not quite knowing what to do, how to act, or even how to feel about meeting a mortal. The person on the other side knocked again. Snapping out of his odd thoughtful daze, he walked towards the door. He opened the door and, on the other side, stood a woman. A mortal woman. The first time he’d ever seen such a thing. In the flesh, alive, living and breathing. Loving and more. His smile grew, “Greeting, mortal, how can I help thy heart on this very day?”
The landlady opened her mouth at the sight of a man, standing within one of her apartments, completely naked, “Is John here? His rent is due!”
“I know not of a John,” he replied, still smiling.
“You do know that you’re naked?”
He looked down and then back to her, “Does this body offend you somehow?”
Her eyes dared to glance down, for the briefest of seconds, before her skin turned a slight shade of red, “No, no, it’s very… good,” she replied realising that she was starting to stare at his chest and stomach, “John needs to pay his rent!”
“But how does one usually pay their rent, as I shall pay his rent from now on?”
“You usually get a job!”
The landlady smiled, took another look, then walked down the hallway as he shut the door. “A job? I shall have to get myself a job!”