Chapter Text
> yawn
> is he fr? lmao
> none of us even watch ruri you goddamn weeb
> ^^^^^
> @ headmod, can we do something about this fucking guy
…
Levi's hands are clammy as he types, deletes, and retypes. Deletes, retypes again. There's a pit in his stomach and he feels like he's about to cry.
L3VI > Shut up.
He fumbles to find the button, the "leave server" button that'll let him out, but the app freezes long enough to see that they're typing and then he's out and there's a lump in his throat and something unpleasant's brewing in his stomach and oh god, this is why he doesn't have any friends, isn't it?
He never understood these things, but all it took was a few paragraphs on the latest episode before it all went to shit. They couldn't understand. They would never understand, they'd never give the show a chance, they'd never give him a chance and—
No, that's not quite it. Is it. Is it? It doesn't work that way, does it?
Not that he'd know.
He reaches for his Azuki-tan stress ball and stares at the logo on the back. He stares at it for a good few seconds and throws it across the room. It hits the side of his bed, skips once, and rolls to a stop. Great, now he feels guilty.
Normies. They're all normies. Doesn't matter who— online, offline, in the room next to his. They're all normies.
Anyone who makes him feel useless is a normie.
It's how it's always been. Doesn't matter if they play video games or raided a dungeon with him once. Doesn't matter if they watch anime or own every last Sucre Frenzy album because at the end of the day he's still a terrible friend.
It's dead quiet, save for his breathing and the sound of the fishtank's filter. He stares at the stress ball. Ruri-chan would hate seeing her sidekick left abandoned on the floor, even if it's just merch and not the real thing. Wouldn't she?
He lets his eyes fall shut and takes a deep breath. He walks over, retrieves poor Azuki-tan, and gives it a good, comforting squeeze.
…
It's so not fair.
"Levi. What did I say about phones at the dinner table?" Lucifer doesn't shout, but his voice carries a little too well and Levi hunches over his phone on reflex. Lucifer shifts his focus to Beel with a sigh, who'd finished his ninth grilled cheese only to start on Mammon's.
Beel mumbles something unintelligible through a mouthful of food.
Mammon whines.
Satan groans.
Asmo's silverware clinks together (loudly) and Levi's not the only one that cringes away. (_) flinches closer to their plate, shoulders tense as they shovel food into their mouth at record speed before pushing their chair out and standing with a stiff chuckle.
(A couple eyes follow them, of course. (_) always has eyes on them. It's one of the few things Levi isn't jealous of, really.)
"Feeling kinda tired," they murmur. "I think I'll turn in early." (_) glances at Lucifer for permission to go. He nods, they're out, and Levi's attention snaps back to his game.
He hadn't even realized he was staring. Gross.
Asmo's knife scrapes against his plate, and that's Levi's cue to go before he snaps at someone he shouldn't. With a glance at Lucifer, Levi mumbles something under his breath, grabs a grilled cheese, and leaves the table too.
He gets a text from (_) on his way out. They want to crash in his room, if that's okay. Something about peace and quiet.
Leviathan > OK, but I'll be playing a game, so as long as you're quiet that's cool I guess.
(_) > Forced social interaction? At this hour?? You wound me. </3