Secrets belong in graves.

Rising, Lazarus abandoned the piano, moving to his whirring laptop on his desk in his bedroom. Damp had discoloured the wall behind his desk, so he had taken care to keep all electrics and the desk away from the wall itself as much as he could. The flat had been a total mess when he had arrived, as he was sure most others were in this block, but rent was cheap and Lazarus was not well off. He had never been good at accounts. Not even when he had been a young man. Of course, he looked young, but much like Dorian Gray himself, he had eternal youth and good looks. Though unlike Dorian, he didn’t use it to fritter away his life.

Not that it was much of a life, mind. Because Lazarus was not what you would call normal. Which was why he hid himself from society. No one would understand. He doubted anyone would try to. He had grown used to it.

Gabriel... Lazarus sighed. He tapped out a few rhythms on the desk, now sitting at his laptop. He didn’t know why he had come over to the laptop. If he had had a reason, it was forgotten. Gabriel was on his mind, and he couldn’t shake his last memory of the angel from his head. Of course, Gabriel hadn’t been a real angel. Far from it, though in Lazarus’ eyes, he was an idol and a guardian angel.

Lazarus thought about his life before this. The parties, the concerts, the compositions that flowed as easily as blood from a wound and the company of many women and men. He had enjoyed both equally, over the years. Though now he was a recluse, and it would be hard to say if he had once enjoyed popularity or not.

Lazarus’ mind turned to their relationship. It had been their dirty little secret, which had been quite literally taken to the grave. He pushed it from his mind. It hurt too much. He clicked shut down on the laptop and flopped on his bed, focusing his thoughts on the new resident. He wondered who it was.  What flat were they in?

He looked over at the clock and grimaced. 4.30 in the morning. Just as well he was on night shift later. He liked his job. He was generally alone in the dark, pretending he was guarding something. It was a dull job for the most part, nothing happened. Who would break into a museum anyway? He spent most of his time playing games on his phone. Tetris was a favourite. Some night guard he was...

Soon enough, Lazarus fell asleep where he was on the bed in his clothes.

The End

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