Chapter Text
After a year and a couple of months, it was now October and Diavolo had little to dislike in the human world. He had no absent fathers to disappoint. No royal meetings to attend. No unhappy arranged wedding to be at. He had a freedom of choice. He had friends who were friends just because they enjoyed his company. He had new experiences to discover and treasure. But English with team building activities was something Diavolo quickly learned to dislike. He would almost go as far to say that he hated the two things together. The too many too personal questions, the awkward conversations that follow, and the uncertainty of others reactions. This happens every morning of every week day. Today, when the teacher said to write one word to describe a person and explain why you chose it, Diavolo thought it would be easy. He could have chosen himself. Or at least, he did, before the teacher announced they would choose who you would write.
Some time passed before Diavolo’s name was called out.
Then Lucifer’s.
Lucifer.
Lucifer Morningstar.
Vice-president of the student console Lucifer Morningstar.
Captain of the chess club And Vice President of the student console Lucifer Morningstar.
Number one mathlete of the district, captain of the chess club, and Vice President of the student console Lucifer Morningstar.
The Lucifer Morningstar that was just so...
So…
So...
What was there to say?
There were a lot of things to say.
He rephrased the sentence, what was there to say about Lucifer?
Diavolo paused. There was so much to say about Lucifer.
He could write thousands, no millions, of books over his near infinite life talking about Lucifer and there still would not be enough scriptures to put down all of his thoughts of the man. There would never be enough because Diavolo notices more and more of Lucifer. And in so many words that could describe him, it would be near impossible to boil it down to a single set of arbitrary letters. A set of agreed upon symbols with interpretations so constricting that it made describing a living three dimensional human so complex, difficult.
The teacher could have asked any other person for Diavolo to describe in one word but it had to be Lucifer. Any one of Lucifer’s brothers, if they were in this class, would have made this far easier. The task would be like asking a child to say their name. Mammon. The second oldest was greedy. Everyone knows he runs a pyramid scheme of gum and other cheap contraband. Or Leviathan, who was so bitter to anyone who he considered to be better than him. So he was, in one word, envious. Satan was in and out of detention for fighting so it would be so easy to call him wrathful. Asmodeus was lustful as he openly talks about his escapades. Beelzebub was always snacking on anything he got his hands on so it would not be a stretch to call him gluttonous. And then there was Belphegor who was slothful since he was always napping in class.
What was Lucifer?
Was the word beauty?
It could possibly be beautiful. He was good looking and he was always presentable no matter how casual an event was. But Lucifer was so much more than looks. So much more to him that a cursory glance. So much more than beauty.
Was it charming?
Charm was something that brought people to you. Something that captivates you and never leaves. The likelihood of this was equal to beauty as he had that something that calls attention to him. Whether it was his looks or how he carries himself. Diavolo thought Lucifer was far too charming not to be called any other thing. Though, most would deny the idea as he was strict and not one to give out compliments of any sort. Others were not drawn to him the same way Diavolo was.
He needed to start thinking hard.
What made Lucifer, Lucifer?
What was Lucifer in the most simplest of terms?
Was it his looks?
Was it his dark hair? Far darker than any night in the Devildom Diavolo had experienced. Calling it ebony or raven was like comparing a navy color to cobalt. All other blacks looked grey unlike the pure sea of darkness that could not be matched. His eyes? The way it reminded Diavolo of forgotten rubies on forgotten crowns. Yet his eyes could sparkle in the darkest of nights unlike rocks in metal. His skin? Littered in old scars telling far more intriguing stories any writer could tell. How he wore gloves because he claimed they were far too riddled with imperfections to be proper to show. Or how it was paler than fine parchment of royal decrees.
Was it the way he expressed himself?
Was it the way he closed his eyes, tilted his head up, and leaned back slightly when he laughed in private after a terrible joke Diavolo made? The way he laughed. How free and relaxed he sounded unlike how it sounded in the company of others. How it made Diavolo’s heart soar that he was the cause Lucifer to live a little. Because he was the only one to hear it? Or the way his lips lifted into a small nearly unnoticeable smile when he talked to any of his brothers? Or how it was unnoticeable on his face but looking at his eyes showed how much he truly loved them. It was that look in his eyes Diavolo looked forward to in every interaction. Hoping one day it could be for him. The way his face would flush with color after being complemented unexpectedly? How his ears turned redder than roses. How he looked away from the other and turned his head a little to the left, only to blink his eyes as if it was hidden and therefore okay to carry on. How hilarious and cute it was to Diavolo to the point where he tried to catch Lucifer off-guard with kind words.
Was it his attitude?
Was it the show of perseverance? Of long nights sitting at a desk for hours doing paperwork for the student console? Overworking himself and supposedly falling asleep at his desk more often than his bed? Or at least he was told he did that. Working through holidays so his brothers whether they knew it or not could take a break? Was it the show of love and care for his brothers? When they come up to him to help fix a problem and how he fixed it so quickly. How he would comfort them if they asked. How he looked after them like a mother hen after her chicks? Was it the put togetherness of Lucifer? How nothing shook him like that one time last week when they quickly needed to prepare for the first football match of the season? He got everything ready in a few hours with plenty of time to let everything settle.
Maybe the word Diavolo was looking for was pride.
Lucifer was prideful. His pride was embedded in every aspect of him. It was how he looked. Dressed to nines every day and his hair falling perfectly in place. It was how he acted. The look he gave as he looked after his brothers’ accomplishments. How everything he did in the eyes of others was so calculated. Like a chess-master trying to predict their opponent’s next move.
It was most definitely pride. But even with that, it could be so much more to describe him. There was just too much to cover. Like how just thinking about him made Diavolo’s head spin. Passing him in the hall made his whole day better. Just saying hi made his heart pound hard in his chest. Imagining holding those hands whether in glove or even better, without hands, made him blush.
Far too much of Lucifer.
Far too many details to notice.
Far too many actions to summarize.
Far too much adoration from Diavolo.
Far too much fondness from him.
Far too much care from him.
Far too much.
Love?
Far too much love?
Was it love?
As much as it could be love, Diavolo hoped it was not love. Love is such a complicated feeling for anyone in all three realms. There were so many types of love too. Humans almost make it seem easy. They throw the term around often and give it away like it's nothing yet the idea in itself cost so much more than most know. And as much as he would want it to be love, he knew he should not be in love with a human. Everything was stacked up against any chance of a romantic relationship with Lucifer. Humans were so fragile compared to any angel or demon. Their lives were just a mere blink in Diavolo’s perception. Though, if they were of the same species, if that was truly the difference, would be around the same age. Time was relevant right? That's what the humans say. Diavolo should not even be in this realm. He should not be interacting with anything that belonged to the human realm. He should not be in love with a human being so beautiful. There were many tales of the fates of those daring enough to cross those boundaries. How an angel was caught with a human and her fate. In many people's opinion, a fate worse than death, being casted out of her home and forced to forever roam the world she once loved. Some rumours state she became a demon and went off her rocker. Though Diavolo knew better.
He was not really breaking any rules but at this rate he would have a new rule named after him.
How did he end up like this?