Chapter Text
You had to admit, avoiding the Avatar of Wrath for as long as you had been reeked of a bad idea. You ignored the vibrating of your D.D.D. on your nightstand near your bed. Locked inside your room, your back pressed firmly against the door, you sputtered and hacked into the sleeve of your uniform.
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You couldn't pinpoint exactly when you had fallen for the snarky blond. The two of you had built a private rapport through your mutual love of literature. You'd spent the last few weeks meeting with him when he'd offered to aid in your studies of the Devildom, and of course your conversations were bound to take a turn to your bookish hobbies one way or another. One thing led to another one day when comparing the works of a well-renowned Devildom author you'd been studying in your new literature classes to favorite works from your youth, and before you'd known it, the two of you had gone from study buddies to a two-person book club. You began meeting with him several times a week at the cafe, and he had started giving you reading recommendations. Maybe you'd felt a spark of warmth in your chest the first time you'd seen his aqua-emerald eyes twinkle, the passion in his inflection when he spoke enthusiastically on his favorite subject, but you pushed the feeling deep down and buried it. You were far too much enjoying the new friendship you were forming with this intelligent man. Besides, how could someone like him ever fall for a lowly human like you? Best not to think of it.
You found yourself growing more impressed by him every day. Not only was he a bigger book nerd than you'd ever hoped to be, but he was also a social butterfly? You listened with awe whenever mention of his various connections would slip out in conversation. Despite seemingly having no real interest in sports, he had formed a friendship of sorts with the manager of a big league baseball team in the Devildom. He was friends with the owner of the cafe the two of you had frequented, and he knew the owner of the bakery downtown. He spoke fluidly of his various acquaintances in the human world. Turns out you weren't his first mortal friend. Who knew?
You found yourself swallowing the bitter taste of jealousy at times, but why? You were Satan's friend, nothing more, and you had counted yourself lucky to have that much. But, you wondered, had he let anyone else this close? Has anyone else been permitted to view this...softer side of him? Even his brothers (minus Lucifer) had always seemed terror-stricken whenever Satan was in one of his foul moods, but lately, he seemed to be so light-hearted and gentle. Had his aura really lightened so much since the beginning of your stay in the Devildom? At that thought, you found yourself swallowing another bitter taste. Metallic. You suppressed a cough. Is that--is that blood? Shit.
You had begun to find yourself cutting your meetings with him short when you found yourself having abrupt coughing fits that turned into violent spasms. You had to politely excuse yourself while fighting the urge to clear your airways, making a mad dash to the restroom, more times than you could count lately. You used any pathetic excuse you could muster up. Your allergies were acting up. You were having an asthma flare up. Maybe bronchitis. A chest cold? Who could say for sure? There were no human physicians in the Devildom, so you told him you'd have to simply wait out whatever illness it was. Luckily, most human illnesses couldn't be transferred to your demon friends, according to Solomon, so you tried to continue meeting with your companion. You couldn't let him worry about you. You couldn't tell him about how frequently you had started to expel blood from your mouth. Nor could you tell him about the flowers.