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“Adam didn’t even fucking like you.”
Abel knows. Lord above, does he know. Adam had never been good at hiding his favoritism, and Cain had always held their father’s esteem, even during their days on Earth. He wonders, sometimes, what—or who—Adam saw when he looked at Abel with such disdain. Why he looked so melancholic.
The only person that had ever seemed to have any affection for him among his family was his mother, and he hasn’t seen her for upwards of 9 millennia.
Abel misses her.
Hell, he misses all of them. Even Cain. He would give anything to see his family together again. He’s sure it would be a disaster; Adam and Eve would fight, and Cain would bully him again, and Abel would have to put up with Adam treating him like a second class citizen, but at least they’d be together. At least they’d be a family again.
But then, were they ever really a family to begin with? He thinks of Cain’s betrayal, and how, despite the way it had broken his heart, Abel hadn’t really been all that surprised, either.
People tend to forget easily that Abel had been the first human to die—the first ever winner. His death hadn’t been swift, nor was it painless, and waking up in Heaven had been disorienting and stressful. Learning he couldn’t go down to the garden to visit his mother was, by far, the worst part.
So he gets where Pentious is coming from. He has people he loves up here now, of course; Peter and Emily, for one.
But Pentious doesn’t have that, yet. He may not ever, admittedly. Emily wasn’t kidding when she said that no one up here was quite like Pentious.
But Abel doesn’t want him to feel alone.
He hovers outside the door of Pentious’ room, hesitant but determined. He softly knocks on the door, and listens as the sound of quiet sobs peters out into sniffles.
“Um,” he says through the door, “Sir Pentious? It’s, uh, Abel. Can I come in?”
There’s a moment of silence before the door opens slightly, and Pentious peeks out at him, eyes still red from crying.
“…What do you want?” Pentious asks softly.
“I, um… I have something for you. Can I come in…?”
Pentious watches him wearily before he opens the door the rest of the way, moving aside to make space for Abel.
“Okay,” Pentious says, “but I’m… not much in a celebratory mood.”
“That’s okay,” Abel says, “You don’t have to celebrate. I just wanted to do something to help you settle in.”
He moves over to the desk by the patio, waving his hands to summon his present. It appears on the desk, and Abel steps aside to let Pentious look.
“I… know what you really want is to go and see your friends,” Abel says, “and if I could make that happen, believe me, I would. But, uh, I heard you call yourself an inventor, and I noticed some of the machines you’ve tinkered with, so I thought… I dunno. I wanted you to have access to better tools, I guess, so you can build more intricate machines.”
Pentious looks through the toolbox, his expression shifting from that of trepidation to confusion to awe. “I… don’t know what to say,” he says after a moment, turning to Abel with tears in his eyes anew, albeit for different reasons this time. “Thank you.”
Abel smiles at him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Of course, man. I’m really sorry that things are the way they are, and I’m not quite as, uh… fun to be around as Emily or Peter, but any time you want company that’s a little bit more, uh… relaxed, I guess? Just come and find me. Okay?”
Pentious nods, resting his own hand atop Abel’s before releasing him.
“Good,” Abel says, “I’ll get out of your hair now, but you can also come and find me if you need, like, materials or something. I’ll do what I can to help.” He moves towards the door with Pentious following him, smiling one more time as he steps through the doorway. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”
“Okay,” Pentious says, offering a timid smile of his own. “Thank you again.”
“Any time! See you around.” Abel waves, and Pentious shuts the door.
He doesn’t even have time to turn away before a quiet voice speaks up.
“How’d it go?”
Abel turns to look at Peter, who peeks around the corner of the hall at him. He sighs, approaching the gatekeeper.
“As well as could be expected,” he says, “He’s still upset. Grieving his life in Hell. But I think I cheered him up a little? I dunno.”
“Yeesh,” Peter says as they begin to walk away from Pentious’ apartment, “Never thought I’d see someone treat Heaven like a punishment. Seems a little dramatic, if you ask me.”
“Don’t say that,” Abel replies, “You and I have no real idea what Hell or its people are like. There’s probably a good reason for him to be so upset.”
“I guess,” Peter responds, “Why are you so invested in this, anyways? You’re a General now, right? Don’t you have more important things to do?”
“Why are you asking me?” Abel counters, “Emily’s way more important than I am, shouldn’t she be the one being scrutinized?”
“Yeah, but it’s Emily’s job to make sure people are happy and settled.”
“Well, why were you invested? That’s not your job,” Abel says playfully, poking at Peter’s shoulder.
“I don’t have anything that important to do,” Peter says, smacking his hand away, “especially now with Heaven being fully closed off. Stop dodging the question, dude.”
Abel sighs, looking down at the ground as they walk.
“I don’t know,” he says, “I guess he reminds me of myself when I first got here. Not the same situation, exactly, but probably pretty similar, emotionally. I wanted him to know he wasn’t alone.”
Peter hums. “I guess that’s fair. Wish there was more we could do for the guy.”
Abel frowns, remembering the very, very long period of time that went by before he saw another member of his family up in Heaven—and the subsequent crash out when he realized that his mother and brother would likely never get up here themselves.
“Yeah,” Abel says after a moment of silence, “me too.”