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Sleep had once been Sandalphon’s dearest friend, when the harsh conditions of Pandemonium left him with nothing else to do for two thousand years, but it seems the loss of Lucifer has stripped even that luxury from him, too.
He sees Lucifer’s head rent from his shoulders for the tenth time tonight and bolts upright in bed, chest heaving and sweating profusely. He barely manages to grab the bucket he’s started keeping by the bed, voiding the contents of his stomach into it - not that he’s been able to eat much lately. Broken, dry sobs rack his body as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, shuddering.
He throws his blanket off and his clothing on, ignoring the members of the crew who are still up at this ungodly hour as he heads straight for the kitchen, coffee percolator carefully tucked under his arm. Setting it up is second nature by now, something he can do even as his thoughts whirl into an indiscernible mess with only Lucifer, Lucifer, Lucifer repeating in time with the pounding of his head.
When the percolation is finished, he takes the entire pot with him to the table along with his cup. This amount of coffee could easily serve eight people.
But Sandalphon will not, cannot go back to sleep, not if the same cycle of anguish awaits him, so he pours himself his first cup and drinks.
He’s started a second pot of coffee by the time Lyria wanders in hours later, hoping someone has already started making breakfast. “Oh! Sandalphon!” She seems happy to see him, settling comfortably by his side while she watches him work. “Are those the special beans we found?”
“Yes,” he replies curtly. When Lyria fidgets slightly, trying to come up with a line of conversation, he asks, “Would you like some?”
“Yes! If you don’t mind, that is.” She gives him a smile, but it falters when she finally gets a good look at his face. “Sandalphon, you look awful! Are you feeling okay?”
“Surely even skydwellers have bouts of insomnia,” he says, returning to the table with coffeepot in hand. “It’s nothing to concern yourself with.”
Lyria follows him to the table, concern radiating off of her. “But...if you drink that much coffee, won’t it just get worse?”
“That’s the point.” Sandalphon gestures to the chair across from him. “You should drink that before it gets cold.”
Lyria quietly sets the cup down, hair hanging in her face and hiding her expression. After a few painfully long moments of silence, Sandalphon decides he has no idea what’s happening and ignores her.
He very nearly drops his own cup when Lyria puts her arms around his shoulders, resting her head on his. His body jolts at the sudden contact, every muscle screaming to throw her off, but he feels her small frame trembling like a leaf in a windstorm and he reins in his instincts.
“How unsightly. Why are you crying?”
“Because you won’t. Even when you’re hurting yourself to keep nightmares away.” One of her hands runs through his hair, so terribly gently that it’s almost sickening. “You don’t have to suffer alone, Sandalphon.”
His only response is a quiet chuckle, dredged up from the darkest and most cynical place in his soul, and it only makes Lyria cry harder.
By the time Katalina arrives, looking for Lyria, she’s cried herself back to sleep, her head in Sandalphon’s lap and her knees tucked under her. “What happened here?” Katalina asks warily.
“She was upset about something and I didn’t want to spill my coffee.” He gestures to the empty pot. “You should take her back to her room. At least one of us should be able to sleep comfortably.”
“What are you...what was she crying about?” Katalina asks as she carefully gathers the sleeping Lyria into her arms, noting the puffiness of her eyelids.
Sandalphon doesn’t respond right away, occupied as he is with rinsing out the coffeepot. Just when Katalina’s given up on an answer, he calls out to her over his shoulder.
"Whatever it was, I'm sure it was nonsense."