Chapter Text
The adrenaline pumping in Mammon's veins slowly faded as he jogged into a park, a half filled bottle of Demonus in one hand while the other rubbed soothing circles into his side. That punk at the bar had a mean punch, he had to give it to him.
He tried his best to navigate through the dark park, his swaying and lack of coordination due to being drunk only making it more difficult. But a big, blurry body with neon colors that glowed in the faint light coming from the street lights called his name. He got closer and hesitantly touched it, as he felt the sand in the children's sandbox engulf his shoes.
A small, yellow plastic and metal slide. He hummed in slight satisfaction.
He crawled into the rusty slide that stood in the middle of the sandbox, hoping the cold metal and cheap plastic would hug him back as his body hit the cold, electrically charged surface with a quiet thud.
It always ended like this, every time a fight broke out at a casino after a deal went south, he’d find himself hiding away in some corner, high on cheap booze and adrenaline. And like every time, he’ll get a beating at home for being out late gambling, as well as for getting his ass beaten up. It doesn’t really make much sense but Lucifer isn't exactly the most understanding and accepting person when he has his panties in a twist.
It’s reached a point where Mammon doesn’t even try to explain himself, he just takes it. The insults, the lashes, the belittlement. It feels pathetic to be treated like this by his own brother, like he was a bad child that needed punishment. Something that needed to be fixed. But, it feels like Lucifer is just beating him over the littlest things nowadays though, he’s clearly taking out his frustrations on Mammon.
The adrenaline slowly started fading, leaving behind shaky limbs and the demon’s heart beating like a drum in his chest. Mammon groaned out as he felt the physical consequences of his recklessness.
“Ugghhh…my fucking sides hurt…so much” He croaked out, voice hoarse as he lifted the arm holding the bottle of liquor slowly, still rubbing at his side with his other hand. It’ll ease the pain, it has to.
A couple minutes passed by as the demon turned uncomfortably in the small slide, wondering why the alcohol wasn’t dissolving his pain away like usual, it's not like he had anything more than some bruises and maybe a slight cut.
Until his hand grazed the warm liquid that pooled underneath him. He gasped in surprise, wiggling out of the cold slide and pulling his phone out of his pocket, pressing harshly on the cracked screen with shaky fingers, turning on the flashlight.
The slide was covered in fresh red blood, hell it looked like a whole crime scene! It was so dark he didn’t even notice. His clothes were drenched in sweat and blood, it looked like he'd been mauled by a pack of wolves.
He clutched his side as pain spiked like needles, sending a shiver up his spine. When was he slashed during that fight?! He racked his brains while muttering a string of curses. Somehow, seeing the injury and the blood filling the spot where he’s been laying, only made it hurt more.
That fucker hadn't punched him...he'd slashed him with a knife!
“... fuck…Haah….Shit” He tried his best to apply pressure to the big wound, but his arms were slipping and shaking, his anxiety poured in buckets as he tried hurriedly to stop the excessive bleeding. Yet his limbs moved as if they had a mind of their own.
It’s not like he’s going to die, he’s a demon. But how will he explain this to Lucifer? He usually tries to not get beaten up too badly, partly because being in pain feels like shit, but also because the looks his family gives him when he gets home injured, it’s just fuckin’ awful. Disappointment, resentment, and annoyance all mixed into this crowd of eyes. Like little jabs at his rotten heart and core. He doesn’t want to be a burden, but at the same time this all happens because of his sin.
Greed’s never left his side, ever since the fall. It is a part of him. And he keeps getting punished for indulging in it, which is truly is fucking unfair since they all know that its useless to try and deny the urges, the sin. Nobody else gets punished for indulging in their sin like him. And every time he tried to point out the hypocrisy of it, he got told to shut up and to not ‘ make excuses to get out of trouble’ .
Tears prick at the corners of his dry eyes as he tries to get himself together, getting up and wobbling through the park, his grip around the bottle’s neck tightening. His mind won't stop racing, and his body hurts like hell.
He loves his brothers, his family, but he’d wish they’d stop treating him like shit, over something he can’t even change.
Leviathan doesn’t get smacked for spewing lies just to soothe his jealousy. Satan doesn’t get strung up from the ceiling for tearing the house apart during his tantrums. Asmodeus isn’t lashed for letting his dick do all the thinking. Beelzebub isn’t berated for inhaling everything in sight, leaving scraps for the rest of us. Belphegor isn’t cursed out for sleeping through every single event and meeting. And Lucifer. Who’s got the balls to tell that asshole how things really are, when rules and people bend over backwards to appease him?
His knees feel so close to giving out with every step but he keeps pushing, his tears falling despite the Greed Avatar’s efforts to not cry. And he’s really glad the street is empty.
Lucifer only cares about what Diavolo wants, feels, says. He comes home to only pour his frustrations out onto Mammon, beating him and insulting him, treating him like a child that needs punishment. If anyone was to ever waltz into the House of Lamentation, they wouldn’t believe that Mammon, the great avatar of Greed himself was being treated like this by the people closest to his heart.
He honestly feels pathetic for letting things get like this, because even though he knows he deserves better than this treatment. It’s been going on for so damn long, he doesn’t know if he really deserves it or not. And as the tall building he calls ‘home’ and its intimidating metal gates come into view, he doesn't feel one bit better. He’s home, but it doesn’t feel like it.
At the metal gates, he holds onto the bars, honestly thinking if he really does want to go in there. Inside into the cold and big office, where Lucifer will treat him like his punching bag for hours, inside into the empty hallways, inside and into his bed where he will cry himself to sleep. A chill runs down his spine, making his breath hitch and fog up in front of him. It’s cold out.
He staggers into the yard instead, the bitter and frozen air welcoming him when no one else does. He crumbles onto the ground near the brick wall, his knees giving out finally as he groans at the aching pain. His bones feel like they’re grinding together, tearing flesh and tendons apart inside him. The bleeding doesn't seem to be stopping, he looks to the side at the trail of blood from the front gates to where he’s sitting.
Maybe when they see the state he’s in, maybe they’ll feel pity. Or at least anything other than disappointment. Though a small part of him doesn’t believe it.
The alcohol soothes his dry throat.
He can feel his grasp on reality slipping, body officially giving out.
“I just hope they won't be too mad..”
Lucifer walked back and forth in his office, no one knew where Mammon had gone off, like usual. However, what was unusual, is that it’s past midnight with no sign of his brother showing up. And Mammon knows what staying out that late meant.
A tired sigh left his lips as he leaned back onto his long wooden desk, he’s too tired for this. He has to go to sleep, he’ll just talk to Mammon tomorrow morning instead.
He tried to sooth his mind from overthinking as he turned the lights off and walked out the office and into his bedroom.
‘ It will be fine ’ is what he convinced himself as he changed out of the uniform and into something more comfortable before tucking himself under the covers and quickly falling asleep.
What he didn’t expect to find in the morning, is the chair where Mammon usually sits at the dining table, unexpectedly empty. Lucifer drew a sigh of annoyance, it's way too early for this.
“Where’s Mammon?” He spoke before pulling his chair out and sitting at the head of the table.
The chatter quieted down at the question, they all looked at each other and then at him, without answering. Lucifer rubbed between his eyes.
“I don't think he came back yesterday,” Beel said after swallowing, he’d vacuumed his entire plate already and slid out of his chair to get seconds.
“Honestly, I’m not surprised-” Belphie said as he dragged a spoon across his plate, nudging the food around.
“-Oi, don’t play with your food” Satan cut him off before taking a sip from his coffee mug.
“Ok, mom” Belphie glared at the blond, even through all the sleepiness, sarcasm laying thick.
“Ok, manner-less slob” Satan snapped back, rolling his eyes.
“Well you can shove those manners up your–”
“Can you two stop fighting like children, I’m getting a headache.” Lucifer interjected with a groan , quickly drawing an end to the bickering.
“Alright, we’re heading off to RAD..” Levi said as he got up and headed to the door behind Asmo.
Where the hell could Mammon be?
Lucifer mulled, standing up to go search the Second Born’s room. Aside from the whole house being under a protection spell personally crafted by Lucifer, there are also detection spells that tell the caster who leaves and enters the house. Which the eldest had put up to help reduce how much Mammon sneaks out the house at night, but nothing really ever stopped Mammon.
Lucifer was just at the top of the staircase, heading to Mammon’s room when he heard high pitched, alarming shouts.
“ LUCIFERRR! ” He heard twin yells coming from the hallway that led to the main door. Because apparently this morning still had room to get worse.
The eldest quickly went back down the flight of stairs and to the main house door, stepping out onto the porch. And he felt a worry stir in his stomach as he saw a long line of dried, dark red crimson painting the stone path that leads to the House of Lamentation.
…is that…..a trail of blood? Right outside the porch??
Did a fight break out or something? Did something wounded walk into the garden?
The eldest followed the trail of blood, into the garden, near a pile of leaves and bushes near the brick wall. A figure huddled into itself, with all Lucifer’s brothers standing around it in a circle.
Here was Mammon laying on the grass, covered in blood and bruises, clutching the neck of an empty bottle of Demonus with stiff hands. Looking pale and cold, limbs shivering and tucked against his body, making the Avatar look smaller. Lucifer sighed again, deeply. In annoyance? Relief? he didn't really know.