Work Text:
I wake up, heading to my ensuite to get myself ready for the day. I hop in the shower, feeling the hot water running down my body, doing nothing at all to numb the feeling as I scrub at my skin, wondering why I even bother anymore.
I get out, turning the shower off and grabbing a towel to dry myself with. I dry myself and begin getting dressed, brushing my teeth after I have fastened the last button on my shirt and tightened my tie sufficiently. The sharp mint of the toothpaste stings my tongue, shocking me out of my zoned out melancholy state for a split second, before I drift right off again.
The stairs creak underneath my feet as I walk downstairs, the creaking coming to a close as I step onto the linoleum floor of the downstairs hall, making my way to the kitchen and begging to prepare the young master's breakfast.
I don't know how it happened, but it's like I just blinked and the smoke alarm started blaring. The entire kitchen is somehow up in flames, and the breakfast has been blackened. The young master comes rushing downstairs as I try to put out the fire, my heart pounding with every one of his footsteps that I can hear approaching me.
'Oh not again Barbs! How does this keep happening?!'
'i-i do not know young master... I just zoned out for a split second then ten minutes passed and the kitchen caught on fire...'
'are you doing alright Barbatos? This has been happening a lot recently, and I'm a bit concerned about how dangerous it's becoming.. you sewed over your hand with the machine when you were tailoring one of Lucifer's suits and you didn't even flinch until much later.. heck, you seemed to have intentionally sewn over your hand-'
I roll my eyes, knowing exactly what he is trying to imply with his statements. If only he actually knew what it felt like, to have to bear the burden of being the only one that knows what's to come, the only one taking things seriously.
'Did you just roll your eyes at me?!'
Yes, yes I did, you absolute moron. You should not even have to ask that. Maybe I wouldn't have rolled my eyes if you stopped trying to talk to me about my mental state when I am clearly trying to do my job.
'o-oh.. no, not at all young master. My apologies, I must have something in my eyes..'
'very well then.. look, if you need to talk, you know where I am..'
Yeah right. Last time I tried to talk to me you gave me this whole bloody speech about how I was hallucinating and how we were all going to be alright.
We are not going to be alright!
Why won't he listen to me?
Why is nobody listening?!
The fire gets out out and I start making breakfast again. This time I throw in a portion for myself to stop the young master from throwing a hissy fit about how undernourished I am. Honestly, if he tries to force-feed me plain chips (brit definition) again then I will probably barf. He didn't even season them before trying to give me nutrients! That stupid bastard!
Breakfast is eventually ready. I take it to the dining table and call the young master over. He sits down starts eating his food as I stare at my own plate and the double vision takes over. I always have a teensy bit of double vision in my right eye, but this is different.
It feels as though my brain has disconnected from my body, as though my own vessel does not belong to me, as though I am controlling my own life through a virtual reality headset.
I hear the young master say something, though I cannot for the life of me make out his words.
I then feel a tap on my shoulder and immediately snap out of it.
'Barbatos.. are you feeling alright? You haven't touched any of your breakfast yet, and it's been half an hour...'
I look down at my now cold scrambled eggs and stale toast, feeling quite embarrassed at my forgetfulness.
'o-oh... It seems I indeed have not eaten yet... Haha.. silly me..'
I nibble at my breakfast, almost gagging at the texture of the stale and cold and rubbery ingredients that were once a tasty delicacy.
I eventually finish the concoction, getting up to wash the dishes and do the housework. I chug down some whiskey to avoid having tears run down my face, then I start folding and putting away the laundry.
Hours pass. The dishes and laundry are done, the floors are mopped, the bathrooms and cleaned, the beds are made, lunch is prepared and served, guests are over, the guests leave and say goodbye.. wow.. a lot can happen in just a few hours..
Dinner is soon prepared, and we both sit down and eat our pasta. I have cheered up quite a bit, having found a possible escape route to get away from my mental anguish. I eat my food and then do some more housework, feeling as though everything is going to plan as I write out my will and letters to give out to my loved ones.
I do not feel anything. No happiness, no sadness, no anger, no relief, no uncertainty. I just feel number and number and more and more disconnected from my reality as the sun sets and the time comes closer and closer.
I give the young master a kiss goodnight and tuck him in, starting to wonder if I am making the write decision. I ignore the feeling though, and focus on what I am about to do.
I take the painkillers from the medicine cabinet and swallow them all down with a pint of vodka, feeling all of my past worries slowly slip away from me, every bit of pain slowly leaving my body as I fade away, destined to never have to feel another negative emotion ever again.
Second person POV of the next day
@LordDiavolo: 'i think it's a bit odd that Barbatos isn't downstairs like usual.'
@Lucifer: 'maybe he's sleeping in a bit.. it is a Saturday after all'
@LordDiavolo: 'he never sleeps in unless he's ill.. something's wrong....'
@Lucifer: 'fine, check on him then if it stops you from worrying then..'
Diavolo puts his DDD down and makes his way to Barbatos' room. He knocks on the door.
'hey Barbs, wakey wakey!'
No response..
'Barbs?.. Barbatos, honey..? Are you there?..
He opens the door, spotting his beloved steward in a pile of his own bloody vomit on the floor, his skin greyish and cold to the touch.
He tries to resuscitate him, but it's no use. No matter how hard he tries, his butler will not come back to him. He's gone now, leaving a hole in many people's hearts.
All because Diavolo was too late...