Masochism Tango | Alastor & Lucifer & Vox

chapter 10

It was late that night in Lucifer's bedroom as he got a phone call.

He groaned, body buried underneath his mountains of luxurious blankets and stuffed-duck pillows, flipping over and hugging a stuffed animal to his body. He burrowed his face into his pillows. His room was dark, and he had a couple of candles burning on his workshop desk across the room, so at least the place smelled delectably like candy apples.

But here he was. Lying in bed. Doing nothing. Again.

His phone buzzed over and over again, vibrating his bed. And here he was. Getting a fucking phone call when all he wanted to do was lie here and sulk.

It was sad and revolting, but that's what Lucifer did most of the time — he would lay in bed and just think, or sleep, hardly eat and starve his body of its needed nutrients just poring over and over again in his mind what he did wrong. He would think ceaselessly of his family, of Charlie and Lilith, theorizing about where she ran off to. He was divorced. That was all there was to it. Lucifer and Lilith were never formally married anyway, no paperwork at all or anything.

She had been gone for seven years, and it was time to accept that he no longer had a wife.

His phone buzzed again and again and again, and each time he'd ignore the call and it would stop, it would just pick back up again. Lucifer buried his nose into his pillow, inhaling the fresh green apple scent of his bedding. He should have expected it, for her to leave someday. She never wanted to be Queen of Hell, never cared about her people. She just liked the power. It was just a matter of time before she got bored of it all.

Before she got bored of him.

When did she start to dislike him so much? When Charlie was born, maybe.. She would hardly ever let him see her, always whisking her away the second they'd get a fraction of time together to read to her, to teach her how to use her powers, whatever it was they did when they were alone. Lucifer was left to his own bearings, wondering what the hell he did wrong and why he felt so empty inside.

All he wanted was a happy family.

He wished so badly that he would have confided in you about all of that as it was happening, but you always spent your time in the dungeons or reading and never really bothered with him. Lucifer fell to his duties and managed the higher-ups of Hell whenever his nose wasn't buried in his workshop or staring at the wall in silent, sad contemplation. He made sure everything ran smoothly. He still does, but nobody knows what he goes through behind that, when he's at home, alone, in his room.

Lucifer would always go to you for business advice when dealing with the higher-ups of Hell, whether it be Deadly Sins or the royal Goetia, assisting them in guiding the people they individually led in their respective districts, the trades they produced. Lucifer never asked to be King of Hell, but eventually he grew into the role.

But you? You were born to be royalty.

From the moment the monarchy began, you always called the shots for Lucifer. Lucifer would do everything, or occasionally Lilith, when it came to dealing with his people and trades and financial workings in Hell's rings, regions, and districts, but all of his decisions were really your decisions, and nobody knew that but him and you.

How long had it been since he'd came to you to help him rule Hell? Months, he was certain. It had been even longer since he came to you about his broken family, if you don't count a few nights ago. Fuck, the person he needed was right in front of him and he never had the guts to actually use her for the friend she really was. And she let him.

You never cared to push Lucifer to confide in you. You enjoyed yourself and your strange hobbies on your own, either torturing Sinners in the dungeons or studying the newest medical breakthrough the humans had come up with in the Overworld. Your mind was a space of vast curiosity and wonder, much like Lucifer himself, but you were into the more boring stuff.