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Lucifer’s head was pounding.
He honestly hadn’t felt this terrible in a long time, the way that the thoughts screamed and caused his chest to tighten and feel panicked.
This wasn’t the usual depression- this wasn’t the typical anxiety. It was something else entirely. Something that could swallow you whole beneath the waves and drown you until you’re in the abyss.
Lucifer knew the bottom of the bottle- knew the bottom of that barrel too well. The way it was quiet beneath the waves as he sat in the sand of silence. He could always look up and watch the water’s surface break, the way things shifted like it all had a purpose.
His purpose was long since used up.
But that wasn’t why the painful headache blasted.
In all honesty, he wasn’t sure why the painful headache persisted; he felt like he was choking on air, and yet as an archangel who frankly didn’t need to breathe— he felt restricted.
Getting out of bed was atrociously hard, but he did it.
I’m proud of you, My King.
And he always was, wasn’t he?
That’s another thing that Lucifer felt like he was getting used to. Alastor’s affection. It was undying, unyielding, and fiercely protective. Affection like Alastor’s in Hell was often incredibly rare; the Radio Demon gave him everything he could reach and more. They moved together like smooth whiskey, fit like a together like the seahorses Lucifer spent time creating at the beginning of it all.
Alastor wasn’t here right now, though. It was just him. Just Lucifer.
And who will I be when thе empire falls? Wake up alonе and I'll be forgotten.
This was Hell, truly.
Alastor was at an Overlord meeting, and frankly, it was a very important one. Lucifer declined the invitation to go, citing that he’d prefer to sleep. Alastor had been reluctant to leave the King alone, but what else could he do?
Lucifer wasn’t the only one in their relationship who highly valued trust in one another. He had to trust that Lucifer was telling the truth.
The Devil was an excellent liar, but even if he lied, Alastor had always figured it out within seconds. So why hadn’t he stayed?
Simple. Lucifer hadn’t been lying. He did want to sleep. And he had been fine. This was just something entirely different.
Well, suppose now was as good a time as any to drag himself from bed and move into the bathroom. A shower would help, surely?
No, perhaps a shower elsewhere? Alastor’s room was always open to him. Only him, always him.
Lucifer let out a shaky breath, knees weak as his hand gripped the edge of the bedside table. Fuck.
What kind of King is so weak to his own thoughts? His own mind?
One who hasn’t fully healed. Be nice to my King, please.
Alastor really did ruin his inner thoughts, didn’t he? No matter how much Lucifer’s thoughts got self-deprecating, a voice similar to Alastor’s always cut through the hate.
But that voice was fading. It was choking out. It was suffocating under the weight of his other voices.
You’re alone.
Do you like the hatred you’ve earned?
I love you, mon cœur.
She’s so disappointed in you.
How’s it feel down there, Luci?
Stop begging, Morningstar. I cannot do any more than I have for you- the traitor.
Mon trésor, breathe.
I’m sorry, Al, I’m trying and I can’t. I can't.
You can.
I can’t.
Lucifer held his head, body trembling as the tears on his face flowed freely. Father damnit, why was it always like this when Alastor was gone?
His movement was slow, dragging himself out of his room to stare down the dark hallway.
No- it was light. It was… bright?
It was flickering. His magic was firing off in different ways.
He felt his knees buckle as he leaned against the wall, letting out a pathetic little noise.
Lucifer was beginning to loathe the fact that he even left the bed.
Come along. One foot in front of the other. Come now, my light. With me, yes?
Yes. He can do that. He could move. One foot at a time.
Lucifer reached out to something-something corporeal and yet not there as he began to move forward. The lighting in the top floor of the hotel finally steadied, and he could see where he was going.
Almost like a few seconds ago didn’t happen.
Did it?
Almost there, little King. Look at you, I’m so proud of you, doll.
And he was. Lucifer knew that somewhere, wherever Alastor was, he’d be proud of him for getting out of bed.
What if I can't get up and stand tall? What if the diamond days are all gone?
Alastor had never questioned him either, not once had the Radio Demon asked anything of him aside from his undying love and affection. It was that affection that Lucifer had bottled up for years.
That affection that he had kept away from everyone else and never shared, and yet here he was.. Giving it all to Alastor.
And there was beauty in that. Simplistic beauty. He loved it. He felt like it belonged.
Lucifer felt like he belonged.
Alastor’s room was shut like it always was when he came upon the door, but it opened all the same, and in Lucifer went.
It was quiet inside. The crickets and cicadas that called Alastor’s bayou their home were chirping softly as Lucifer walked through the room.
He kicked his shoes off as he stepped in, bare hooves passing through the carpet that bled to grass, and as he entered the bayou, he felt the entire world stop. His thoughts still shifted, they always did- but so did the air.
Static whirred and popped to life as Lucifer continued toward the dock that he and Alastor often sat on.
His coat and hat were the next to go as he stood on the dock, staring down at the water of the river he knew so well. And then the river swallowed him.
Come up for air and choke on it all; No one else knows that I've got a problem.
Why is he suddenly above the water again?
”Why is it that every time I find you in my swamp that you are beneath the ripples of the river, hmm?” Alastor questioned, holding Lucifer close as he moved them to a shallower part of the water.
Lucifer was promptly set down, and as his hooves touched the bottom, he took stock of the situation. “...Al you’re still wearing your coat and your shoes, and you hate getting your hair wet- what are you doing in the water? You could’ve sent your shadow?”
”I jumped in because I saw Hell’s reigning monarch beneath the ripples of my river, and I got concerned. And you only ever come here when you… when you don't want to think.” Alastor said.
The duo waded through the water and up onto the dock where Alastor snapped his fingers to rid himself of his wet clothing, leaving the Radio Demon bare on the dock. Lucifer’s clothing followed suit, and Alastor nodded to himself approvingly. He opened his arms for Lucifer to crawl into, and the Devil did just that.
”Did you want to talk about it, Lucifer?” Alastor asked, brushing a hand through the wet strands of hair covering Lucifer’s face.
Lucifer leaned into his touch. ”I don’t… Alastor, my sweet fawn, I wish I could begin to explain what I’m feeling. It was.. They were..”
”They were very loud?”
”Very.. But you were there. You always are.”
”I always will be, my lovely King.”
”And I you, my sweet fawn.”