Deep in the center of the ocean he emerged, flushing a group of pompeii worms into the open water. He paused for a moment, suspended in the thick water like a grape in a bowl of gelatin, then kicked toward the surface. The water became softer slowly, almost imperceptibly, and rushed between his fingers as he ascended. Many minutes later, he emerged, and the air washed over him. It had been many years since he'd first seen this island, but there it was, just as he remembered. The houses were different of course, and there were a few new trees, but the land had held its shape.
He swam several miles southward and sat the crest of a twelve-foot wave. It carried him to shore, where he collapsed in exhaustion. He arrived in front of the chapel just as the sun was beginning to bob up on the watert. The monks were already risen, humming sleepy hymns in the open halls. Lucifer dragged himself over the rocky shore, shivering while the cold waves rushed over him. He could only hope the older monks would disregard him as they tilled the ground for potatoes.
“Lucifer,” a young man whispered, crouching behind a sprig of sea grass. Lucifer tilted his head, scraping his chin on the rocks.
“Help me stand, Alaire,” he whispered. The young monk glanced quickly over his shoulder, and climbed down the crags like a crab. He reached the brown-skinned man and bent over him, feeling the crunch of salt as he ran his fingers through the dark hair. Everything about him was strong and young—all but his eyes. Alaire drew the angel up by his elbows, removing a lash of seaweed from his bronzed chest.
“I’ve been waiting a year for you,” Alaire trembled. “I…I wasn’t sure you’d come back.”
Lucifer, weak from treading water, wrapped his arms around the man “I’m here Alaire,” he soothed. Alaire sighed, chuckling a little. My Alaire, Lucifer thought sadly. How am I ever going to tell you?
The monk held him tightly for a few minutes, warming the wet body with his own. Lucifer’s skin was cold and slick, prickling as he shivered.
“Come with me,” Alaire said, leading the angel toward the chapel. A bell tolled, signaling the first meal in the chapel. “They won’t notice us.”
After having rested for several minutes, Lucifer had regained enough strength to scale the crags alongside the priest. They moved like deer, quickly and quietly as they could, until they had reached Alaire’s cell. The first light of morning turned the walls of the tiny room amber, and made the bed sheets look warm, like they had been folded by the fireside.
Alaire pulled back the covers, and helped Lucifer lower his exhausted body onto the bed. He kissed the angel on his golden eyelids, covering his ancient eyes. Lucifer was already asleep.
As much as he wanted to stay, just to watch him, Alaire knew the other monks would notice that he was missing. Silently he shut the door, and went to join his peers in the chapel.
Alaire had come here five years ago, at the age of sixteen. He had felt all his life that his duty was to live for God, and to serve him alone. The Brothers welcomed him and taught him their customs. They became his family, and at ever service, he felt a rush of ecstasy—just to be united with the peace he loved, serving the same cause, having the same faith.
But now, everything was changed. Whenever he went into mass and saw the crucifix there, he felt the urge to run back into his cell and flog himself. The anguished eyes of the Christ bore into him, begging him to renounce his sinful living and become pious again. This wasn’t just unnatural love for a man—he was in love with a fallen angel.
The morning service ended, and the Brothers filed out of the church, singing a recessional hymn. Only Alaire stayed, his head still bowed in prayer. He clenched his teeth as he begged for mercy, rocking back and forth on his knees. Three hours later, when the second service began, the other monks watched him discreetly, admiring his passion for prayer.
Once this service was over, one of the Brothers put a hand on his shoulder, reminding him that it was time for work. Alaire nodded, and crossed himself before rising onto his aching legs. That afternoon, he attached the garden with unprecedented vigor, uprooting the weeds in a single swoop. The Brothers were sure that he was experiencing some kind of religious epiphany, and so, they let him be. He was so disgusted with himself he said fifty ‘Our Fathers’ just to keep from thinking about his affair. How can I justify this? he wondered. I’m damned.
It was then that he had his epiphany.  Trying to be discreet, Alaire fled the chapel, his silhouette framed by the bones of the sun.  In the silent corridor where the Brothers slept, none of the monks ever locked their doors; but if any of them were to find Lucifer, there would—quite literally—be hell to pay.  
Having assured himself that there was no one else in the hall, Alaire removed a key from his robe. There he was in the bed, lying on his stomach, sleeping as a child would.  Alaire rolled his feet silently over the hard ground. He crept over to the bed and, very carefully, lowered himself down.  Like a mousetrap, Lucifer’s hot skin pulled Alaire’s gaze to his back.  He smoothed his hands over the tawny angel, the ladder of his vertebrae leading them to the crusty skin between his shoulder blades.  Wings had once attached there, but not for many years.  Alaire put his hand to the base of Lucifer’s neck, and Lucifer drew a long breath through his nose.  Alaire burrowed into the nape of his neck, feeling the sea salt with the tip of his nose.
“Hello,” Lucifer smiled, his voice cracking from sleep.  
“Did you sleep well?”
“Like death,” he replied sardonically. He put his hand on Alaire’s leg, flicking his thumb by over the knee.  In all his eternal life, Lucifer had never cared for anyone so much.  Alaire was not a particularly appealing man; His head was covered in unruly curls, and he was thin as a dead man whose yellow skin hangs off his bones. But Alaire was still more beautiful than any human he’d ever known.  His face was soft and circular, like a child’s; and his eyes were impossibly large.  He was the kindest man in all of creation, although he was rather naïve and—as Lucifer well knew—a little sadistic.  Even so, Lucifer thought, he will not receive any pleasure from what I am about to it to say.  
“You were gone for so long,” Alaire said, his eyes growing with happy tears.  “It gets harder every times than you leave.”
Lucifer quivered.  “I know,” he swallowed. He sat up and seized one of Alaire’s frizzy curls, then lowered him gently into a kiss.  The man shuddered once, and knelt over Lucifer’s body.  
“I have the most wonderful idea,” he whispered excitedly.  The angel smiled at him sadly.  Alaire continued to kiss him, and reached for the candle that burned weakly on his nightstand.  With a halt, he released Lucifer’s lips, and held the candle over his chest.  Lucifer curved his back, whistling as the hot wax dripped onto him.  
“Tell me,” he pleaded.  Alaire tried to keep his sultry pose, but his joy became to too much for him to bear.  
“Take me with you!” he shouted, breaking into a childish squeal.  Lucifer froze in disbelief.
“What?”
“Why should you leave me here?” Alaire asked, as if it was the most absurd thing he had ever heard.  “I am already damned, Lucifer.  Take me with you now.”
“Oh, Alaire,” he said gently.  He held out his arms, and, looking rather confused, Alaire complied.  Lucifer pulled him so that the man’s head rested on his chest, and breathed slowly as if he would melt.  
“Alaire,” he said again, “I can’t take you with me.  God knows, I wish that I could.”
“Then I’ll kill myself,” Alaire declared.  “Like I’ve said, I am already damned.”
“You would be wasting your time,” Lucifer sighed.  “I did not come here just to visit you.  Not this time.”
“Then what is it?” Alaire asked, sitting up a little.  His eyes widened in panic.  “What are you talking about, Lucifer?”
The angel shook his head, trying unsuccessfully to keep the tears from overflowing. “I’m so sorry, Alaire,” he trembled. “I return.  Tonight, as soon as it’s dark enough…”
They were silent.  Slowly, Alaire began to understand the words of his lover, and suddenly, he jumped from the bed.  
“You really are Satan, aren’t you!” he screamed angrily.  
“Alaire!” Lucifer cried.  “You know that I have as much control over this as you do.” He turned to walk away, and Lucifer’s heart lurched in his chest. “No, Alaire!” he begged, and finally he cried out in agony, “Please!  I love you so much…”
Alaire stopped, clenching his fists.  He leaned his forehead against the wall, and began to shake.  Slowly, Lucifer rose from the bed, and turned Alaire away from the wall.  The huge eyes were flushed with tears, just as his were.  
“I’ll be leaving soon,” Lucifer quaked.  “The Sky will be more terrible than any part of hell, when you’re not there.”
The fallen angel packed his arms around the monk, gripping the pleats of his woolen robe.  
“You could never comprehend how much I care for you,” he continued.
“Oh please don’t say that!” Alaire sobbed.  He pulled Lucifer to him, digging into the scars on his back.  He leaned the bridge of his nose on Lucifer’s shoulder, forcing his eyes closed against his collar bone.  The two of them held one another for several minutes, silent except for their tears.  Then at last, a rainy odor filled the air around them, and Alaire heard the beating of hasty wings.  With a gale of wind, the heavy oak door blew off its hinges into Alaire’s cell.  In its place was a large, muscular man, with dark coloring similar to Lucifer’s.  The only vast difference between were them the pair of white wings on the back of the visitor—the mirror image of a swan.  It was Michael, Alaire realized; the same archangel that had launched Lucifer from the Sky all those years ago.
“Alaire,” Lucifer whispered.  “He’s come to take me home.”
The man shouted in mortal agony, spewing words that were not of his own language.  Lucifer gave him one final kiss, and pushed the man away.  
“In losing you, I have received the worst punishment I possibly could,” Lucifer said, climbing into the arms of the archangel.  “God and I have finally made our peace.”