Chapter Text
The House of Lamentation beckons you forward like an old friend, urging you to come out of the bone-aching chill of the Devildom and into the warmth of its familiar embrace - however, you stay put outside the metal, gothic doors. You needed time to breathe - time to think.
You pull your jacket around yourself tighter, snuggle into the warm cashmere of the scarf Asmo insisted on buying you ( “You deserve the lap of luxury my dear! Now will you stop your fretting? It gives you wrinkles, you know.” ) lost in thought, with your eyes following the horizon of the ever-dusky sky and the sharply jutting, spindly treetops. The little keychain Mammon bought for you back in the human world jingles on your bag - a time that feels so long ago but still somehow within reach - rustled by the nipping wind, coincidentally reminding you of just who occupies every single crevice of your mind.
Your relationship with said white haired demon is something both unnamed yet intimately known. The deep love and care you feel for him settles in the warmest, most tender part of your heart, coiling around your very being like a vice. Feelings that have been left unsaid, a confession that always hangs on the tip of your tongue but refuses to be unleashed.
You want to tell him, you really do. You want to breathe it into his every cell, pepper your adoration all over his soft face, seal your confession with a kiss… but the truth is that you’re scared . Does he feel the same way? You know he cares about you, it’s written in his actions. How he’s the only brother who has never hurt you, how his eyes search for you whenever he enters a room, the little gifts and trinkets he picks up for you because they reminded him of you, the flush that spreads along his beautiful face whenever you inch closer to him during TSL marathons, how he finds you in the middle of the night after a nightmare, the way he rushes to protect you at any given moment even under the guise of complaining reluctance, how he always finds an excuse to spend time with you, his closeness and fleeting touches…
But he never truly says it out loud, outright and directly. So, how are you to know? You’re left grasping at straws, always guessing and wondering if he feels the same as you, second-guessing every one of his actions as perhaps just being friendly. You wonder if he acts the same way with the witches, with the other demons in the Devildom, surely he wouldn’t be doing all of this for a “stupid human”? Are you being too affectionate, too pushy ? Is there anything deeper to his actions than simply obligation? By Diavolo, you want there to be. You want it so badly. But you’re scared . Scared, scared, scared. Why are you so scared? You yearn for him every moment of the day, but why can’t you act on it? The fear of rejection and heartache pangs at the essence of your very being. Sometimes you just want the words to tumble out, not caring about the consequences. But your mind is your biggest enemy, in a constant quarrel with your heart.
You take a deep breath of the cool air around you, willing it to calm your thoughts and the pounding of your heart. Begging it to bring you some sense of clarity, motivation to act. Shoulders sagging, eyes heavy, head and heart feeling fuzzy and warm, you push open the doors to your home and take a soft step in.
--
Unbeknownst to you, Mammon feels the same exact debilitating fear that you do. Pacing around his room (which you’ve dubbed as “Incredibly ridiculous… but very cute and somehow still very you. Is that a goddamn car?!” The memory fills his heart with warmth), he ponders on what exactly he is to do. Should he confess his feelings? What if you don’t feel the same? He knows you feel something for him, but what if you treat all of his brothers like that? What if he’s not special? What if what the two of you had meant nothing? Did you even have something? He wants to touch you, kiss at every part of you, clutch you to him and tell you everything he feels for you, weaving his heart together with yours. You’re so nice to him, so sweet and caring. He has never been treated with such kindness, always insulted and taken advantage of. Does he even deserve you?
“Agh, stupid human! Stupid brain! Why can’t I be strong enough? To just… say somethin’ to you. A-And stop bein’ so damn afraid! I’m the Great Mammon for cryin’ out loud…” He grumbles, the place between his brows furrowing, his mouth turning down, and his eyes becoming suspiciously glossy, frustrated and overwhelmed tears threatening to fall down his soft face.
It doesn’t help that his brothers tease him about it, tease him about what he feels for you , albeit being a bit more mean than they should be, constantly calling him unworthy of being your first pact, reminding him of his greedy and scummy nature, labelling him as being too much of an idiot to ever be deserving of you. These thoughts cloud his mind on a daily basis, adding to his fear, to his constantly wavering confidence. Sometimes he can brush them off, put on a mask to cover the pangs of pain the words bring him, instead masking the hurt under a bravado of forced confidence... but on a dark, gloomy day like today, those thoughts weigh heavy on him, filling him with the nipping cold that rages past his window, clouding his mind with their insidiousness and breaking him down bit by bit.
He gulps, fists clenching and unclenching, refusing to let his tears spill, and wills his brain to think of you . You with your softness, your smiles that feel as though they’re reserved for him only. Your gentle nature and constant support, even during his wildest schemes and get-rich-quick ploys. Your patience when helping him with his overdue assignments, the class material that he can't understand no matter how hard he tries. The way you gently smile at him, helping him study and motivate him to finish his work nonetheless. The way your thighs touch when you sit beside him during study sessions, movie nights, dinner meals. The curve of your face, the warmth of your hands, your voice. The lips he desperately wants to kiss, the fingers he desperately wants to hold. He can’t think of a world without you, at this point. He tries not to think about how he wailed and clutched you close to him when it happened. Ever since that day, he renewed his vow of keeping you safe, keeping you happy and protected. You deserve all the goodness the world has to offer, he decides, and if you asked for the sun he knows he would fly up all the way to the heavens and bring it down to you, to illuminate the ever-present darkness of the Devildom. He would rebel a thousand more times, if it meant he could see your smile, your happiness. You fill him with the peace he hasn’t felt in a long time, of a purity he hasn’t felt since his days of being an angel in the Celestial Realm. But why is he still so goddamn scared ?
--