-What if the fight is already lost?-

Xander's POV

Gradually becoming conscious, I feel the thick red duvet covering from my midriff to my toes. Groaning at the thought of getting off the bed, I slowly unravel my lids, only to hiss a second after as the morning light happens to sting my sore eyes.

"Fuck," I mutter, clamping them shut as the sting ensues a pounding in my head.

Gritting my teeth and summoning courage, I open them once again, this time my vision getting accustomed to the light. The drumming in my head appears to have come to stay as it increases with each waking moment.

"Pain killers, I need me some pain killers," I grunt and sit up, hauling the comforter off my lower body and get off the bed in grey sweat pants, my chest bare.

Sliding my feet into my bedroom slippers, I hastily stroll to the bathroom, my face scrunching up as it seems someone is stomping on my brain with the amount of headache I'm having.

Concentration low, irritation high, I mutter profanities under my breath as I open up cupboards in search of the medicine cabinet that's stocked with a few essential drugs a guy would need.

I sigh in relief as I finally find it and gulp down two tablets of the first pain killer I find with my saliva and hope I didn't make a mistake by choosing a different drug altogether.

Shutting my eyes, I inhale and exhale slowly before I unhinge them and turn on the tap. Filling my palms with water, I throw it on my face and wash away whatever remnants of sleep left.

I switch off the running water and gaze at my reflection, my muscles bulging as I lean on the sink, the events of yesterday returning, most significantly Azazel's appearance.

What bothers me is one of his parting statements which has me wondering if he was really encouraging me or if he just wants to see me struggle and fail in the end.

One thing is for sure though, I still have months left, therefore I shouldn't waste them.

Concluding that's enough thinking for one day, I snatch up my toothbrush and paste and rid my mouth of the foul scent of liquor of last night. Thankfully, the pounding in my head happens to be subsiding.

I rinse my mouth and return the objects to their respective positions atop the sink and exit the bathroom to trudge to the wardrobe where I don a black tank top and run my fingers through my black curls.

Picking up my phone from the lampstand beside the bed, I proceed to the door, my feet padding atop the marble tiles. Yanking the door open, I leave the confines of my room and weave my way through the building till I reach the gym.

From the entrance, I can hear grunts and movement which indicates Charles must have started before me. I am proven right once I step in to see him running on the treadmill, his hair plastered to his face with sweat and red shirt clinging to his physique.

He catches sight of me through the large mirror glass on the other side and puts a pause on the machine before he swerves to stare pointedly at me, one palm in the pocket of his white shorts and the other wiping sweat from his forehead.

"He wakes," he speaks, a brow lifted.

"Wish I didn't." I shrug, heading towards the weights.

"There you go again with your stupid statements," he scoffs, returning to start up the treadmill. "I thought last night was a phase."

"About last night, I'm sorry," I apologize beginning to wrap up my knuckles as he begins to jog slowly. "Also I might have meant every word I said."

"Stop bullshitting me," he tells, focusing on his movements.

"I'm not." I shake my head as I lay flat on the bench, the seriousness of my tone nearly throwing him off.

"Careful," I say, observing him regaining his balance from my side-eye as I clench my fingers around the rod between the two heavy objects. "After our workout, I'll fill you in."

Silence reigns after that thus he concentrates on the treadmill while I do the weights. This continues as I shift to the punching bag and he to the weights. We go at it for about an hour more as we switch positions and continue to full-body workouts of stretch, press-ups, and all.

*******

Time flies, and soon we are panting in exhaustion. I'm seated on the bench, loosening the tape around my fingers and he is on the floor, the both of us staring at each other.

"I hate it when you keep things from me," he utters in a brooding tone.

"I said I'll fill you in," I sigh and move my fingers as I discard the tape in a corner.

"Then go on, I'm tired of this staring match," he lets out in irritation.

Inhaling deeply I think about if telling him is the right thing. It has to be because I need to share this burden with someone and he is the best person to unveil my secret to.

"The clock is ticking," he inputs cutting my train of thought.

"I sold my soul to the devil," I confess, going straight to the point.

"Yeah right," he chuckles expecting me to crack a smile and admit it's a joke.

"It was traded through a demon named Azazel in exchange for fame and wealth," I go on to explain causing his laughter to die down as he observed my facial features.

"You are not kidding," he gulps. I nod in clarification. "Oh shit, when did this happen? How? Where?"

"It was years ago," I enlighten, cocking my head to the side. "As for how? It was a simple transaction that was sealed with a drop of blood."

"Damn this is getting real," he mutters fear growing on his face.

"As real as it can ever be." I shrug.

"Where did this happen? I need clarity," he interrogates.

"In an abandoned warehouse somewhere in the woods," I mumble. "I'll spare you the details."

"Xander, if this is a joke__"

"I've never been more serious," I cut him off.

"What you said about not having a career in a few months, did you mean that?" He questions, recalling my words.

"I did," I tell.

"How?" He asks, concern lining his query.

"I have less than a year left," I convey. At the look of horror on his face, I continue. "I thought I could outsmart the devil by making another deal, turns out I ended up digging my grave faster than it should have been."

"But you said it, you still have months left," he repeats.

"I do, rather I don't think it'll make much difference now," I explain.

"But you can't give up yet," he states, shifting towards me. "You can't, we have to find a way."

"There's a way, however at this moment, that way may be blocked forever," I let out.

"Then we unblock it," he utters, a hard glint in his eyes. "You are my best friend, I won't let you go without a fight."

"What if the fight is already lost?" I lift a brow.

"It isn't," he declares, a determined expression on his face.

Freshy❤️