Perhaps Wrath should have stopped going to class, but he didn’t. There was no one else who could watch over Serenity, who could protect her. There was no one else who knew what she was – who she was – and what she had been once, long ago. There was no one who understood exactly what the risks were that she faced.

He wasn’t even sure if she knew.

That was the problem, then, wasn’t it?

He couldn’t exactly walk up to her and introduce himself as a former-demon-turned-human. That would raise questions of sanity he wasn’t ready to answer. Besides, if he were to admit to her that he wasn’t who he seemed to be, then she would have something to use against him.

Wrath couldn’t have that.

Each day, he went to work and stood in the kitchen at the restaurant. His boss would argue with him over hours and he would argue over the menu and the two of them would bicker until it was time for him to go home.

He would return to his apartment and stare out the window for hours. The city lights would never grow boring to him. Not to Wrath. After spending an eternity below ground, in the darkness, the bright twinkling lights drew him like a moth to a flame. He was fascinated with them, with humans, with the living. He was completely caught off guard by the world he now inhabited.

It was nothing like he had expected it to be.

But he still felt anger.

The painting classes were supposed to help him calm down. They were supposed to give him something to look forward to, something to help him relax. They did, but the effects were short. The problem was that seeing Serenity did calm him. Once she was out of his sight, Wrath worried about her.

And that worry turned to anger quite easily.

It affected him at work until one day, Angelica told him this was his last shot.

“I thought the art classes would help,” she said, holding her hands up in helpless surrender. “I thought they would give you some peace, but all they’ve done is cause more problems.”

“They are helping,” Wrath said, but she just shook her head. His words fell on deaf ears and he knew he had to stop yelling at people, had to stop screaming. He just didn’t know how to.

The world was such a nasty place, a dark place, and he was tired.

So tired.

No matter how far Wrath went, no matter how far he ran, no matter how far he moved, the anger always found him. The past few weeks had been good for him. At least on class nights, he got some rest. He got a little bit of relief from the prison that held him. When he was painting, or drawing, or sculpting, Wrath felt a deep sense of calm wash over him.

He wasn’t sure if it was the art or the instructor that breathed such calmness into his heart.

He couldn’t blame Angelica for threatening to fire him. He wasn’t sure what he would do if she did, though. He wasn’t exactly skilled. He didn’t exactly have a complete resume. He’d only been on Earth for six months and he’d been lucky enough to meet a guy who knew a guy who had a cousin who owned a restaurant.

If he had to start over from scratch, he wasn’t entirely sure what he would do.

He would make it. He always did, but it would be hard.

When he went to class that night, he tried to hide his anger and anxiety. Serenity noticed it immediately, though. What was this, an angel thing?

“Are you okay?” She asked, reaching for him. Her palm grazed his leather jacket before sliding off. Suddenly, she seemed to realize she was touching him, and she shouldn’t be, and she put her hand back at her side. “I’m sorry,” she added quickly. “That was inappropriate.”

“It was a long day. My boss is going to fire me.”

He wasn’t sure why he told her. It didn’t make any sense that he should trust her, but Serenity was the oldest living thing he’d met since coming to Earth, and if anyone could understand the challenge of integrating yourself into a new world, it was her.

Although she was a completely different species from him at the start of her life, they were both human now, and when she looked at him, he didn’t see pity in her eyes.

He saw hope.

“Why?” She asked quietly. This time, when she reached for Wrath, she didn’t pull back.

“I have anger issues.”

“You don’t say.”

“They’re serious.”

“How serious? Like, you’ve had to do court-mandated therapy? That kind of serious?”

“Not yet, but close. Losing my job will be the first step, don’t you think?”

“What can I do to help you?”

Wrath shook his head because he didn’t know, and he certainly didn’t know how to put it into words. How could he express that the only time he felt even the smallest hint of peace was when he was painting? When he drew a picture, he lost himself in that moment. Suddenly, he wasn’t the demon who had messed up. He wasn’t the evil being who had gotten himself kicked out of his home. Suddenly, he wasn’t any of those things.

He was just…him.

He was just a man.

He was just like everyone else in the class.

He was just someone who needed a little help.

“Wrath?”

“Yes, Miss Serenity?”

She hugged him then. She wrapped her delicate, tiny, little human arms around him and she hugged Wrath like he wasn’t a demon. She hugged him like she wasn’t embarrassed of him or ashamed. She hugged him like he was important, like he mattered, and then she let go.

“What was that for?” He asked. He heard a noise behind him and knew the other students would be arriving shortly. Gregory and Michael were always early or on time. It was strange for a free class, Wrath thought. Everyone seemed to take the course very seriously, and he knew it was because if they didn’t, Serenity would simply stop teaching.

“You seemed like you needed something,” she told him.

“I haven’t been hugged in a very long time.”

If only she knew how long it had actually been, she never would have believed him.

“Come over for dinner,” she looked surprised as she spoke the words, as if they weren’t her own, and Wrath laughed.

“Excuse me?”

“I…I can cook,” she said. “And maybe, you know, maybe we could just talk. We could eat some food,” she said again. “And we could talk.”

Michael and Gregory came into the room then, followed by a couple of other students who came to class sporadically.

“I would love that,” he told her honestly. “It would be very nice.”

“All right, then. Tomorrow at eight,” she said, pointing at him. “Don’t be late.”