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Chapter Text

Blitzø wasn’t sure when he fell asleep. One moment he was muffling his cries into the couch cushion, an eerily familiar gaping void opening in his chest. The next he was jerking awake to the sound of the toaster popping.

His first conscious thought was that it felt like he’d got kicked in the chest by a horse last night. By a beautiful stallion, hopefully.

His second was a dismissal of the first, dread pooling in his gut; this didn’t feel like some bruising and a few broken ribs. Eyes clenched tightly shut, he curled further into a ball. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he knew what he was feeling. Had felt it before plenty of times. His heart was sitting like a brick in his chest, numb in some ways but so terribly painful in others.

His third and final thought was that he didn’t remember it ever feeling this bad before. Of course, he then immediately decided to stop thinking. Better for everyone that way, honestly.

His eyes cracked open and then quickly shut with a quiet groan, the hellish morning sun punching him square in the face. For a sickening moment, he felt like he was back in his most fucked up years again, waking up in agony after a long night of getting absolutely shit faced. But the sound of Loona’s tail gently swishing along the linoleum of the kitchen floor brought him back to the present.

If only his problem was as simple as a fucking hangover.

He took a few deep breaths in through his nose as the memories of last night rammed into him like a freight train. Trailing Moxxie and Millie to that club. Inviting Stolas out on a date. Getting his ass handed to him by a couple shit heads from his past. And then…

He shuddered, sitting up abruptly and casting off the horse-pattern blanket he found himself tangled up in. Funny, he didn’t remember grabbing it last night. He rubbed the fabric thoughtfully between his fingers for a moment before whipping his neck around to stare questioningly at Loona in the kitchen. She was already looking at him blankly, chewing on a piece of toast.

“What?” she snapped, looking a bit miffed at his stare. She swallowed her bite and looked away. “You were shivering on the couch when I got home this morning. Looked too pathetic to just leave you like that.”

There was a short pause between them, before Blitzø slowly started lighting up like a Christmas tree. Loona groaned.

“No, no, there’s no time for your bullshit this morning. You’re already late for work.”

Blitzø’s smile stayed on his mouth as he flung himself off and over the back of the couch, approaching her with a spring in his step. Even though the pain wasn’t fading and that sent a spark of alarm down his spine, pulling off a happy act was easy enough at the moment. He knew from experience he just had to fake it til he forgot that his heart even hurt at all. He could do this.

“I think you mean, we’re late for work, Loony Toony.”

“No, just you. I couldn’t care less.” She abruptly shoved a second plate towards him, two pieces of toast sliding dangerously towards the edge. “I fucked up and made extra.”

Blitzø’s blinding smile dropped away, eyes wide and genuinely touched as he stared at the offering. Looking at it blankly, he slowly raised his hand to take it from her. Loona was keeping her eyes fixed far away from him, a scowl carved deep on her face, but her eyes were tight with only worry. She huffed and didn’t offer any other explanation. Blitzø looked down at the toast before glancing her way with a smaller, genuine smile.

“Thanks, sweetie,” he said, saccharine sweet.

He picked up a slice and shoved it in his mouth, chewing loudly and spraying wet crumbs everywhere. Loona flinched when one landed on her arm, flicking it away with a snarl.

“You’re fucking disgusting.”

“Well, at least I’m not the one who can’t keep count of her toast.” The slam of her bedroom door echoed through the apartment, Blitzø laughing loudly. His voice was a sing-song. “You better be getting ready in there! We’ll leave in ten minutes, okay?” The only answer he got was muffled aggressive slamming and swearing coming through her walls.

He stayed in the kitchen, staring at a spot on the counter and absently chewing on his bland unbuttered breakfast. His smile slowly slid off his face again. He reached up and placed a hand over his chest.

God why does this fucking hurt so much?

Work sucked, but Blitzø honestly didn’t expect anything else. As soon as Moxxie laid eyes on him, he scampered close and began tearing into him like a man on a mission. Why would you follow us when we told you not to, sir? Do you not care at all about almost ruining our special night? Blah blah blah.

Or, well, usually he could’ve toned it out. In Blitzø’s opinion, Moxxie’s ranting was the best form of white noise ever. Today, though, it hit a little too close to the sore spot in his chest. Just the mere thought of last night made him flinch, like poking directly into a raw nerve with his bare claw. It took all his effort to keep his expression blank as Moxxie droned on and on and on.

He must not have done as good of a job as he hoped, though, because Millie was giving him this strange look from behind Moxxie’s shoulder, her eyes sharp and focused on Blitzø. Immediately, a feeling of panic started brewing in his chest. Don’t ask him anything, please! He didn’t wanna talk about it or even think about it, he couldn’t, not yet-

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, surprising Moxxie into silence. The shorter imp was staring at him like he suddenly grew a second head.

“You’re… actually apologizing, sir?”

A jerky nod. “Yeah, Moxx. It was a dumb idea. Won’t do it again, promise.”

By now, Millie and Loona had joined Moxxie in his stare, Blitzø feeling twitchy under the scrutiny of all three of them. Millie tentatively stepped forward.

“Are you feelin’ alright, Blitz?”

His eyes darted around the room, feeling trapped and acutely aware of the ache again. He didn’t get a chance to scramble for a response before Moxxie jumped on the opportunity for some jabs at him. Thank Satan.

“Yeah, sir, did you hit your head falling out of bed? Got a fever or something?” Moxxie got in close and gave Blitzø his best non-murderous glare. Which was definitely better than the alternative, Blitzø supposed. “I thought you were allergic to feeling sorry. Unless it’s for yourself.”

A spark of anger flashed in Blitzø’s eyes. “What else do you fucking want from me, Moxxie, huh? You got your apology and can even give me an I-told-you-so. You were right all along.” He glanced away for a moment, remembering last night and trying and failing to hold onto his irritation; he preferred that to the sadness sitting in his throat like a golf ball. “I didn’t listen, followed you anyway, and ruined everyone’s night. All I’ve got is an apology.” He let out a shuddering breath, the anger finally slipping completely through his fingers. He stared at the ground, feeling strangely empty. “I’m really sorry.”

Moxxie must have finally seen whatever Millie did, his expression quickly cooling down to concern. He made an aborted gesture towards Blitzø’s shoulder, as though he was about to reach out in comfort but stopped himself before it could land. Millie walked up next to Moxxie, still looking at Blitzø. She gave him a dazzling smile.

“It’s okay, boss, you didn’t ruin our night. Promise!” She ducked her head, trying to catch his downturned gaze. “We forgive you, don’t we, Moxx?” Eyelashes fluttering, she gave her husband an adoring, yet loaded, look. Moxxie scratched the back of his head, but one more glance at Blitzø’s unusually muted expression had him sighing heavily with a nod.

“Yeah, you’re forgiven.” He leveled a finger at Blitzø’s face. “But please, please, please, sir, don’t ever do that again.”

Blitzø’s glowing eyes lifted slowly, still dim but looking a little less beaten down. He tried to smile, shaky and small and completely unconvincing to the group watching him.

“Lesson learned, really. I promise.”

Still feeling a bit twitchy, he suddenly turned and walked off to his office, muttering something about “plenty of paperwork to be done” and “can’t trust you lazy fucks with it anyway.” His door clicked quietly shut.

Millie, Moxxie, and Loona stared after him for a moment, before looking at each other with concerned frowns. None of them knew quite where to start.

“What the fuck happened?” Loona finally asked, breaking the tension, voice hushed so they couldn’t be overheard. She glared at the two imps, noticing them flinch a bit. “I came home this morning to him crying on the couch in his sleep.”

Millie winced in sympathy and grabbed her husband’s hand for support. She started speaking tentatively. “We don’t really know. He showed up with Prince Stolas-”

“Stolas? Why?”

“I guess ‘cause he needed a date.” Millie shrugged. “Only couples are allowed in.”

“How fucking dumb,” Loona whispered, shaking her head. “Go on. Did they fight or something?”

“Not... exactly. Fizzarolli and Verosika were there. They saw Blitzø and kinda…”

“Destroyed him,” Moxxie filled in grimly. Loona raised her eyebrows.

“Yeah, they sure did,” Millie continued, looking pained. “It was real rough. Very… personal. Then Ozzie caught sight of the prince, and it was his turn to get humiliated. He got called out about his wife and daughter leavin’ him in front of a whole bunch of fancy pants demons.” She bit her lip, looking slightly guilty. “I dunno what happened to them after that. Moxx and I were a bit... distracted.” He lifted her hand and gave it a kiss, Millie smiling at him thankfully. “I guess they just left.”

There was a pause before Loona snapped. “What? You didn’t fucking check on him? Even after you knew he was having a shit night?”

Millie glanced away, guilty again, but Moxxie stepped forward. “Hey, that wasn’t our responsibility! We told him not to follow us, but he did it anyway. It’s not our fault for not chasing after him.” He didn’t appear to totally regret his words, but he did pause for a breath before continuing more quietly. “Last night was supposed to be for us. I didn’t want to let Blitz take that away.”

It was Millie’s turn to console him, pulling him close into her side before nuzzling his cheek. She turned back to Loona, who was still scowling. “Lookin’ back, maybe we shoulda gone after him, but we talked about it after the club and decided he was probably okay. I mean, he got shit from his ex-girlfriend the whole time we were up on the surface for Spring Break, and he was just fine then.” She looked at Blitzø’s door, eyebrows furrowed. “I dunno know what could’ve happened to make him so upset though.”

Despite her best efforts, Loona’s frown crumbled. She sighed, glancing at the door too.

“It’s not your fault,” she admitted begrudgingly. “But something bad must’ve happened. I haven’t seen him this sad for a while.”

All three watched the door, hearts heavy.

Blitzø wasn’t doing much better.

As soon as the door closed behind him, his facade dropped and he slumped against it, his hand going up to his chest again without thinking, pressing against the ache inside to try to slow it down.

Heartache, he reminded himself sluggishly. It’s a heartache. He sighed. Been a while since I had it this bad...

An image of Verosika flashed across his mind. He flinched harshly, remembering how terribly that relationship went off the rails. Never again, he immediately reminded himself out of habit, and then paused. But it did happen again. Sort of. And he’s only got himself to blame.

Now it’s Stolas’s face popping up in his head. He’s surprised at how much it hurts to even think of his name now. Amazing what can change in the span of a single night.

He tentatively plucked his phone out of his pocket, checking for messages with a hopeful lurch in his chest. Nothing. He put the phone away and slowly made his way to his desk, slumping forward in his chair with his head in his hands.

How could he let it get to this point? Why, oh why, did he keep getting his hopes up? How many times would he let his heart get broken before he learned his damn lesson? He should’ve known better than to think Stolas might’ve cared. Another pulse of agony shot through him, still so fresh.

After the handful of times he’d tried to get close to his partners over the years, with Verosika being the most recent attempt before this, he really should’ve learned by now: no one could ever actually return his feelings. The ache in his chest gently bloomed wider, crawling up his throat and threatening to choke him. Tears started to well up again, and he viciously wiped them away, cursing under his breath. Why was he like this?

Leaning back in his chair and deciding to torture himself a little more, since at this point he certainly deserved it, he casted his mind back to the last time he felt a bit like this, like his heart was caving in under the weight of one too many blows. His brain kept turning towards Verosika anyway, which was never a good thing, but maybe he could get something positive out of it. He tried desperately to remember how he managed to recover from this last time.

Verosika had been fun, at first. Barbie introduced them. The two girls had met in rehab, Verosika complaining to her new imp friend about her recent bodyguard flaking on her. She was just starting out with her popstar career, and bodyguards were a must. So, Barbie pointed her towards Blitzø. She hadn’t kept in very close contact with him for a long time, despite his constant attempts to reach out, but she knew enough to know he was looking for fresh work.

He’d been performing in sex clubs at the time, doing creative sex swing and pole dance routines every night. Under the table, he was also building up a reputation for being absolutely mindblowing in bed. He was particularly proud of the latter.

He was starting to get antsy though. When he was a troubled teenager, violent gang shit was his bread and butter, just like most imps, though Blitzø himself was eagerly doing grunt work for the Overlords of all things. Despite appearances, some of those prissy fuckers didn’t wanna get their dainty little hands dirty.

While he definitely wasn’t looking to fall back down into that fucking gutter, he knew he was damn good at killing people. Shaking his ass every night for a packed club was fun and all, but there was a bloodlust simmering louder and louder in his veins and fuck if he wasn’t getting a bit bored.

So, when Verosika hunted him down with a job offer to be her bodyguard, he jumped on that shit so fast he got whiplash. Suddenly, he wasn’t on the stage, but on the side of it. He would scan the crowd, not for horny shitheads to seduce so he could have a roof over his head for the night, but instead for anyone dumb enough to get too close to the succubus crooning onstage. Rather than trying desperately to keep his mind off the sleazy fuckers getting too grabby during his dances, Blitzø was free to crack skulls.

A definite upgrade, he’d quickly decided.

It didn’t take long for him and Verosika to hook up. The sexual tension was immediate and thick enough to cut with a knife. They were well matched in bed, always pleasantly surprised with the other’s stamina. Honestly, it was a win-win in Blitzø’s book at the time. She’d brag to her friends about how fucking hung he was, adding to his previous sterling reputation, and he’d brag about the hot succubus he was sleeping with each night. Everybody won.

God, hearing her accuse him of being a bad lover back at Ozzie’s fucking hurt. He knew she’d been talking shit ever since their break up, but he didn’t think she’d stoop low enough to accuse him of not reciprocating. He’d gone down on her so many damn times that he’d once pulled a muscle in his back. It hurt like a bitch for a solid week, but he still did oral even then, wincing everytime she jostled him around.

True story, he thought with a scowl, leaning back in his office chair. Down in Lust, rumors about not returning sexual favors were enough to blacklist you from a lot of places. Way to ruin whatever reputation he might’ve still had in that ring.

Back then, though, she’d praised him to high heaven, even getting his name tattooed on her arm. They were a bit toxic, but who wasn’t down in Hell? Any time he was stupid enough to say something to her about his personal life, even something sensitive or traumatic from his past, she’d just laugh her ass off and try to dig into his weak points, telling him he had to toughen up and stop being so sensitive.

He quickly learned not to trust her with things like that.

He never initiated the fights, but he gave as good as he got once she made shit personal. Even though sometimes he’d stay awake long into the night, eyes wide and breath shaky as her words echoed in his head, telling him he was an unloveable dickhead who drove even his own twin sister away.

His head was never a welcoming place on those nights.

All in all, though, it was a pretty standard relationship for Hell. They casually fucked most nights and got vicious and personal when one of them got on the other’s nerves. Everything was going great for a year or so, until he got too attached and fucked it up. Until he was stupid enough to start caring.

Another flare of pain. He pressed his hand against it, lost in thought.

It only took one particular night for them to start falling apart. They were laying in the afterglow, same as usual, except that Blitzø felt something warm and fuzzy flicker in his heart for the first time as he gazed at her. They hadn’t fought that day- she’d even been downright civil from dawn to dusk. Despite her flaws, she was the only one willing to stick around. Without thinking, he’d leaned over and dropped a soft kiss on her lips. Her only response was a harsh snort.

Are you half asleep already or something?

She’d then given him a kiss so heavy and sinful he went dizzy. They fell asleep right afterward, but that was the beginning of the end for him. The butterflies in his stomach kept coming back again, over and over, and he found he didn’t want to push them away. He started watching her with hearts in his eyes whenever she performed, fucking her with more enthusiasm than ever each night. Anytime someone talked shit about her, he’d lay them flat, even if she was never in any actual danger.

Verosika, of course, loved all the attention. He could tell. She’d smirk at him in clubs when he’d defend her, pleased as punch and with a hint of heat around its edges. But when he took her to bed, at least on the nights when he could pluck up the courage to try, he’d reach out tenderly after they were done, grazing her arm or kissing her forehead. She’d respond with a scowl or a snapped insult or even getting up to leave if she was particularly miffed.

What the fuck’s up with you lately? Gone soft, all of a sudden?

He’d go to sleep feeling like a kicked puppy, curled away from her and cold head to toe.

Idiot that he’s always been, though, he kept trying. He’d nervously reach out, battered heart exposed on his sleeve, and she’d shove it right back at him, cutting him just a little bit deeper each time. After a few months of getting beaten down, it all came to a head.

Over the year or two they dated, she’d been flirty with other demons, sometimes even spending the night with them. On the flipside, despite his rough exterior, Blitzø had always been a devoted lover whenever he bothered to date. For him, if he was in a relationship, that was it; he didn’t have eyes for anyone else. When they first started dating, he knew she didn’t feel the same. But he didn’t mind. It was a casual thing they had going on, and it would continue like that until they inevitably split. Big fucking deal, been fun and all, see you in the next life or whatever, don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

But then he’d found it was suddenly different. He didn’t just want a casual fling, but a committed relationship with someone he cared about. Blitzø might’ve been a fucking idiot, and he’d be the absolute first person to say so, but he wasn’t so dumb that he didn’t realize what happened to him.

He’d fallen in love. Shallowly, but he still did. As he said, fucking idiot, probably the biggest in the seven rings.

He didn’t know how stupid he was being at the time though and panicked, spending sleepless nights wondering if he should tell her, if she could someday feel the same.

But present day Blitzø knew the answer to those questions. No and no. Just like always.

Telling her he wanted to take the next step towards a committed relationship went as well as expected. As in, it was apocalyptically bad.

He’d started by saying he wanted more with her, and that he was sorry for wanting it, since he knew she never intended to be entirely committed to him anyway. Especially for the long term, which was suddenly what he believed he wanted. She’d snapped back, accusing him of trying to control her, of being a jealous freak. He backpedaled, pleading with her to understand - she wasn’t at fault here, he was the one who changed, he just needed her to know things were different for him now - even while feeling like the floor was falling out beneath his feet.

I just- I care about you. Isn’t being with me enough?

This is hell, Blitzø. Nobody’s gonna be that faithful.

But… I think I might love you.

Blurting that out was one of the dumbest mistakes he ever made in his life. And he made shit decisions for a living.

He still remembered it as fresh as if it happened last night. The way her bark of laughter mercilessly cut straight into his heart. No bullet hurt that badly. Or left such a scar. He remembered she kept talking beyond the ringing in his ears, each word like another nail in the coffin as his tears finally started to bubble up.

Stop trying to make me feel guilty.

You’re my boyfriend only because you’ve got a nice dick, that’s it.

Sorry to break it to you.

Ugh, don’t get all gross and blubbery on me.

You’re pathetic.

I’ll fuck other people if I fucking want.

She probably stormed out then, properly working herself up into a frenzy, but he didn’t remember much else from that night. Just a slow realization that his feelings weren’t returned, would never be returned, and then a terrible sensation in his chest, like the ground had finally fallen away and he was falling hard with nothing to grab onto.

Same as the feeling he got just last night at Ozzie’s club, and then again when he was driving away from the Goetia manor, trying to get as much distance as he could between himself and Stolas once their “date” was over.

Again, the spike of pain rocketed through him. He was getting real fucking sick of that.

Shit with Verosika didn’t entirely spiral down the toilet after their fight. It did at first, sure, but it was back on track before too long. She mocked him for being all “quiet and mopey” the next day at breakfast, demanding he keep his distance if he was gonna be such a killjoy. He left and spent a few nights at a motel, wondering what to do, while she happily went on her merry way, performing every night and even hiring a new bodyguard for a couple days. Her name was finally making it big, and she’d be damned if she missed a single opportunity.

He wished he was stronger back then, that he just walked away and moved on with his sorry life. But he wouldn’t have become the massive fuck up he was today if he was also a quitter.

No, instead he came crawling back, slipping into his bodyguard role and their relationship like nothing had changed, drinking away his feelings until they were lost down the drain. He’d be lying if he said it was easy, but at least he did it. He could take a hint; he knew when he wasn’t wanted, but his dick was. She was happy enough to just shrug and take him back, since he’d appeared to get over his love sickness. Those damn butterflies would still sometimes show their ugly faces when his guard was down, but he got better and better at pushing them away.

Then, the strangest thing happened. Verosika started going soft.

It wasn’t at first of course, but slowly, over the months, day by day, she started to… get attached to him. At least, that’s what he assumed happened.

After six months or so, he had sufficiently smothered his affections and had started actually following in her footsteps, flirting with other people whenever she looked ready to spend the night with a demon who wasn’t him. Rather than sit alone in their apartment and have to think about her with someone else, he decided to find someone to keep him company too.

The first time he did, though, she was snippy with him. Like she could dish it, but not take it. He remembered noticing and shrugging off her sour mood. Not his problem if she didn’t like the shoe being on the other foot.

But then she started sticking close to him, almost begrudgingly, like she didn’t understand why she was doing it either. Maybe before, he would’ve been conflicted, wondering if she might be starting to feel something for him.

At that point, though, he’d thoroughly convinced himself that she was onto something the night they fought: emotions like that had no place in hell.

Or at least, if you were unlucky enough to feel them, it wasn’t worth it to tell your equally unlucky partner that you were dumb enough to fall in love. Other demons weren’t looking for soft shit like that. Trying to reach out and be honest was only asking to get your heart curb stomped.

Verosika apparently didn’t get the memo, though.

She kept close to him as time passed by, no longer sleeping around. She would even occasionally give him a soft touch in bed, much like the ones he used to try with her all those months ago. She was always very tentative about it, like she didn’t quite know how to touch him in that way. He remembered not knowing what to think about it either. Was she fucking with his head again?

She wasn’t though, unfortunately. She’d caught the dreaded feelings. Probably not as strongly as Blitzø had before, but she caught them nonetheless.

He would sometimes wonder later on, several years after they were history, why he didn’t jump at the chance as soon as she started to reach out. He could never think of a good answer, but he had a pretty solid guess why.

She’d done her job too well.

He’d learned, very effectively, that if you’re vulnerable with another person, they’ll only mock you for it and cut you down. It wasn’t a lesson someone could easily forget. Maybe she didn’t realize just how badly she hurt him back on that night, that she’d effectively caused him to retreat into his emotional shell, much like a hermit crab too terrified to creep back out into the sun. He was still way too raw and untrusting to reach out again so soon. The wound in his chest had stopped bleeding, sure, but it was still so damn sore it set his fangs on edge.

So, an emotionally battered Blitzø was suddenly the target of Verosika’s newly discovered affection, as she slowly started exploring her budding feelings. He remembered how exciting those could feel, but he still couldn’t bring himself to reciprocate. Terrified at the thought of opening up to her again, he kept himself emotionally an arm’s length away. They stayed in that uneasy equilibrium for a while, like a calm before the storm.

Said storm took place on a random night in a club after one of her gigs. Some shit head was calling her a slut, saying she didn’t know what she was missing by turning him down and that she must’ve never had a dad who loved her or something. Blitzø didn’t remember the details, interactions like that being fairly standard. Verosika was holding her own as usual, never flinching and verbally punching back as easy as breathing. Blitzø chimed in at one point though, defending her against a slur that was pretty below the belt, even for Hell. Still a pretty standard interaction though.

But he would never forget the way she looked at him after he punched the guy out. Her eyes were fixed on ordinary, dumbass Blitzø with a vacant, almost lovestruck shine to them. That was the first time he ever saw her blush.

Later that night, alone in their apartment, she was like a different person, curling into his side after sex and looking at him sweetly. He remembered gulping down his sudden anxiety, the urge to bolt scorching violently through his body.

And then she asked him a question.

Do you… still want to take that next step for us?

Looking back, he could recognize the signs she was getting attached in the six months or so since she tore him apart. The first blush she finally showed that very night, with the douchebag demon sprawled at Blitzø’s feet. The countless warm glances over the weeks. The way she clung to his side in public for months, as though she wanted everyone to know he was hers.

On that night, though, he was completely fucking blindsided.

He had vague memories of giving some sort of answer, her looking satisfied at whatever he’d said. She nestled her head onto his chest with a peaceful sigh.

You’re a good one, Blitzø. I shouldn’t have said what I said to you before.

A pause. A breath. Then a whisper.

I think I might even love you.

She drifted off to sleep after that, but Blitzø was wide awake, panic racing through his system and his thoughts feeling sluggish, like his head was full of syrup.

Love? She might fucking… love him?

He’d slipped out of bed, feeling as chilly outside the sheets as he’d been under them, and began pacing restlessly. Memories of all the times she pushed him away kept playing like a sick, torturous reel in his brain. He recalled with perfect clarity the look on her face back when he said he loved her, how she laughed and scowled and snapped, mocking him for his feelings. He glanced over to her, sleeping peacefully in the bed.

She’s just kidding herself, he remembered thinking, desperately. But that persistent flicker of hope sparked to life again in his chest. What if she isn’t? What if things... changed?

He searched inside himself that night for the soft feeling he used to hold for her, the heartfelt desire in his chest for her to be happy and safe and content right beside him.

But no matter how much he looked, how deeply he dug into the scorched earth of his heart, he couldn’t find it. He crushed it too harshly beneath his heel.

Suddenly, he’d been struck by memories he tried to forget, of all the people he’d ever been close to and how they all left him in the end.

Because he’s not worth the effort, Blitzø thought grimly to himself as he sat at his desk in the present day. He never was. He always had a talent for driving people away, even as he tried to hold them close.

He remembered coming to the same conclusion back then, staring sadly at Verosika’s sleeping face. Even if she was telling the truth - and she might not have been, it was just like her to mess with him like that - he’d only fuck it up at some point, same as always.

He’d slowly packed a bag that night, fighting back tears and scrambling to pull up walls around his sensitive heart. It’d be better to just screw it up early, before it could hurt him worse down the line.

It always hurts more when you try, he’d thought sadly, picking up the keys to her car and slipping out the front door, her credit cards tucked into the back pocket of his jeans.

He had some horse riding lessons he wanted to take.

He remembered what happened afterward of course, Verosika tracking him down two or three days later with whatever posse of succubi she had following her around back then. She’d slapped him across the face, fished her credit cards and keys out of his pocket, and never said a word as her friends shit talked him for ten minutes straight.

His eyes had been fixed stubbornly downward, still too sore to bite back. She lingered after the rest of the group were satisfied and had wandered back to their car. Blitzø remembered looking up from the ground to meet her gaze, seeing the pain behind her angry scowl. Tears were glittering on her lashes, sending a pang of guilt and self-loathing jolting through Blitzø’s body. Her voice was a snarl, her own walls firmly back up in place.

Stay the fuck away from me, Blitzø.

His name was spat out like a curse.

Even though he knew it was for the best, that the pain was so much less now than how it would’ve been if they tried and failed to make it work, the gaping hole that opened in his chest was so strong it left him gasping for air long after she drove away.

It took grit and stubbornness and many long nights wondering if his heart could ever stop hurting. But sure enough, after a while, he was finally able to push those feelings under the rug, left to rot in a dark corner of his mind. By the time he ran into her for the Spring Break fiasco, she was just another skeleton in his closet, another asshole who thought he was trash in the gutter.

She was right, of course, but at least his heart had long since stopped aching for her.

Apparently, though, he fucking forgot how to do that over the years, he thought with a snarl. His present day pain flared up so strongly, it brought tears back to his eyes. He wiped them away again, feeling hopeless and gazing at his cell phone quietly resting on his desk. It was the one he used to talk to Stolas.

Still no messages. He stared at the stupid thing til his vision went fuzzy around the edges. A strong urge to drink his pain away flashed across his mind before he pushed it back. No need to make this even more like the beginning of the end of his relationship with Verosika.

Could he even call what he had with Stolas a relationship, though? He always got fucking jumpy any time someone called the guy his boyfriend.

His claw tapped mindlessly on the surface of his desk, his thoughts finally turning to the Goetia. He’d been avoiding it all morning, but he supposed this was inevitable. Even if just the memory of last night made him want to cry all over again.

What a way for him to find out Stolas didn’t actually care about him. The way he hid his face behind that menu after getting called out in public for sleeping with an imp... It fucking hurt. Blitzø had been the butt of a joke plenty of times in his life and a source of great embarrassment for others whenever he went out in public, but it never hurt as bad as when Stolas was the one feeling ashamed.

Somehow it felt like a betrayal.

But why? Blitzø thought angrily to himself. Why are you being all butt-hurt? You knew, you fucking knew he couldn’t really care about you. It was all just a business transaction. Casual shit from the beginning, crystal clear. Besides, he’s a prince for fuck’s sake, and you’re just a dirty little imp. The bile of self loathing crept through his veins, like an old friend. The gap between him and Stolas had never felt so wide.

He likely thinks so little of imps, dregs of society that they are. Blitzø is an exception only because he’s also a toy. All those little servants of his, Stolas probably just trips over them in his palace without a thought on a daily basis. With those freaky long-ass legs of his.

His gorgeous legs, he mused absently, before snapping back to reality and harshly slapping his face with both hands.

Fucking stop that! You can’t keep mooning over him. It’s like you wanna break your heart even more.

With a sad, heavy sigh, he slumped down in his chair, glancing at his blank phone out of habit. Still nothing. He really fucked it up this time.

Things didn’t really get worse over the next few days, but they certainly didn’t get any better. And, just to add salt to his wounds, his therapy appointment was coming up. It felt more like it was a trip to the gallows.

Blitzø just couldn’t seem to catch a fucking break. It seemed like his acting skills must’ve gone down the shitter recently. As he went on autopilot at work for a few days, ironing out deals with clients and fulfilling contracts on the surface, he’d constantly notice the looks everyone was giving him, when they thought he wouldn’t see. Sympathetic glances from Millie, perplexed frowns from Moxxie, and Loona... Loona just watched him silently, the worry finally edging out the apathy in her gaze.

All of it was making his skin crawl. How was he supposed to forget about what happened that night, when all three of them seemed determined to keep him thinking about it? Could a guy not be left in peace with his bruised feelings anymore?

He knew his therapist would also be a major pain in his ass, like always. That woman was persistent as fuck. The day of his appointment finally rolled around, and he’d never been so tempted to ghost her. Just the idea of opening up that can of worms so soon kept making him nauseous.

Loona must’ve noticed how jumpy he was though and shoved him in the back of the van before he could make a run for it. Perfect daughter that she was, she personally drove over and dropped him off, all gagged and tied up with a bow on the clinic’s doorstep. His therapist stepped out of the building, staring placidly at him trussed up like a pig and thrashing about on her new welcome mat. She looked at Loona and gave her a grim nod, telling her to be back in an hour to pick him up.

Then, in one of the most undignified moments of his life, his therapist picked him up in the middle of the busy street by the back of his coat and carried him inside. She kept him tied up until they were snuggly enclosed in her office. The first thing he did when she removed the gag was try to bite her hand, but she dodged it easily and smacked the back of his head like a child.

Sufficiently cowed, he scowled in his seat for the next hour as she tried to pry him open a bit.

Their sessions usually weren’t very successful, though he knew it wasn’t her fault. He just never followed advice, sitting all stubborn and petulant and feeling like a rat trapped in a maze. She would always have this calm expression on her face, like none of his jabs at her ever hit the mark. Sometimes he would be especially vicious.

What could he say? He got defensive when put on the spot.

This time, though, he was mostly just quiet, and that must’ve told her something important. He wished she would teach him her ways; it would make shit so much easier if he could read minds too. But no matter how often he’d begged, she never cracked. He would’ve admired her for being a tough nut if she wasn’t so damn aggravating.

On that day, though, her questions were soft, like she knew he was only hanging by a thread at that point. Even after three or four days, his chest was still hurting like a bitch, tears always trying to squeeze out of him at the worst times. Just knowing that he was being watched was sometimes enough to make him choke and freeze up. Please don’t ask, he doesn’t want to think about it yet, not now, not ever, not about how his heart’s been shattered into a million little sharp pieces, he keeps cutting himself on them and it hurts, it hurts, please someone help--

Her calm voice kept him anchored, though, even if he didn’t respond to most of her questions. He could feel his mind spiraling down, and she was something to hang onto, temporary as it was. By the end of the session, he didn’t feel much better, but she pressed some nuggets of advice into his hands. They were generic things he’d heard before, but then again, he hadn’t given her a single specific thing to go off of. She was damn good at her job, but she wasn’t really a mind reader.

Shame, that would’ve been badass.

Still, she must’ve done something right. When he climbed into the passenger seat of the I.M.P. van, he was surprised to actually remember what she told him. First time for everything. Maybe he was getting so desperate for a way out, he was grasping at straws. He silently went through the bullet points in his head as Loona drove them home.

If you can’t talk to me about it, find someone you trust and tell them.

If your thoughts are ricocheting around in your head, try to write them down.

If you’re feeling absolutely overwhelmed, spend some time with your daughter. She looks like she wants to help.

He glanced at Loona, her eyes fixed on the road. A tiny smile bloomed without effort on his face, the first real one in what felt like forever.

The rest of what his therapist said was shit, of course, but more time with Loony could only be a good thing.

To her credit, Loona was sort of a trooper at first. When Blitzø suggested they pick up some lunch on the way home and watch TV together, she shrugged and went along with it. Blitzø would be paying, and free food was free food. Sure, he’d talk her ear off a bit, but if she chewed loud enough, she might be able to drown him out.

But a single decent TV afternoon with him turned into a trip to the park one day and a night at the bowling alley the next. She’d been trying to hold her temper in when he got particularly persistent, taking full advantage of her sudden good favor. His mood seemed to finally be improving, but Loona knew her limits. Her sympathy could only go so far. As someone who hated having people cling to her, it was only a matter of time before shit hit the fan and she snapped.

She only lasted four days. But at least she didn’t murder him. Small victories.

“Look, Blitz,” she hissed one night, frustrated and lost. She’d never learned how to take care of someone, and she certainly wasn’t going to start now with her emotionally repressed and needy dad. “I’m going out to a concert tonight, and you can’t stop me. And you can’t come with me either,” she was quick to add once he started lighting up with an idea. He deflated like a balloon.

“Come on, Loony, please!” He gave her his best puppy dog eyes, all wide and sparkly. “We’ve been having so much fun together lately.”

She gave a heavy sigh, for once not feeling her temper begging to be released. Even though she wanted some independence for the night, she was still extremely worried about him. His depression seemed much sharper than usual, and it was making her nervous.

“I’ll admit, you haven’t been as shit company as usual,” she bit out, not meeting his gaze and crossing her arms. “But I have plans. I’m allowed to have plans with people who aren’t you, remember?”

“I know- I just,” he stuttered, looking at her hopefully and with a bit of fear creeping into his eyes. “Come on, I rented that chainsaw movie you wanted to see! Ooh, ooh, and I can run down the street to that barbeque place you like for dinner, the one that sells the yard-long spicy hoagies.”

Loona felt her stomach grumble and struggled to push down on the temptation. Those glorious supersized hoagies were so fucking good, and this asshole knew it. Instead, she studied him closely, how his eyes were fixed on her and his expression tight with desperation.

“You’ve been real clingy since your therapy appointment,” she began, watching him suddenly look shifty and glance away. “What’d she tell you to do? Have sleepover nights with me and braid my fucking hair?”

He looked excited again. “You want me to braid your hair?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

They stared one another down, Loona stubbornly waiting for an answer. Blitzø cracked first.

“I dunno, she just... gave me the usual shit. The rest of it was fluffy garbage, as per fucking usual, but one of the things was spending time with you.” He approached her quickly, adoration in every inch of his expression. “And you know I always wanna do that, sweetie.”

“Uh huh,” she replied, unfazed. “What were the other things she said?”

He stomped his foot, an upset child put on the spot. “What does it fucking matter?”

“I just wanna know.”

They paused again, but it was Loona who caved that time.

She sighed, hesitantly reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. She certainly wasn’t a touchy feely sort of person, but he looked like he needed it badly. Loona wasn’t totally blind. “I’m actually worried about you, dumbass. You’ve been real depressed the last week.” She looked directly into his eyes, his expression suddenly sad and so, so vulnerable. “Maybe she actually gave you some good advice for once. Could be worth a shot, at least. What do you have to lose?”

He reached up for her hand, looking a bit touched and grateful. His body language was still stiff but it was almost like he was thawing a bit, perhaps slipping slightly and deciding to show some of his vulnerability. After all, like she said, what did he have to lose?

“She told me to write down my feelings, which hello? Way to leave behind some juicy blackmail material.” He tried to scoff and play it off, but his facade dropped away quickly. “And for me to talk about things with someone I trust.”

Loona was quiet for a bit, turning his words over in her head. Writing shit down and talking to someone. She immediately decided she couldn’t be that person for him right now; she was his kid, not the other way around, and definitely had too much shit on her own plate to be able to give out decent advice. Moxxie and Millie popped into her head for a moment before she brushed it aside, making a note to tell them to spend some quality time with him later.

But there was one thing she could do.

She turned without a word and headed into her room, rummaging around in the mess for a few minutes before finding what she was looking for. She returned to the main room, Blitzø looking at her strangely the entire time, and slapped a small black hardcover journal square into his chest. He grabbed it automatically, then registered what it was and gave a double take. He looked up at Loona with a question in his eyes, and she gave an exasperated sigh.

“God, why are you so thick? It’s to write about your feelings.”

He was skeptical. “My… feelings?”

“Yep, she told you to write, so write. You got a lighter?” He looked even more confused but obligingly fished one out of his pocket. “Good. Once you’re done, take it to the burn barrel out back and get rid of the evidence.”

It looked like he was getting ready to argue, opening his mouth to probably call the whole thing a waste of time, so she reminded him, “What do you have to lose?”

He looked at her resentfully, but held onto the journal. They stared at each other for a moment before he gave a short nod, clutching the book tight to his chest.

Her gaze softened along with her tone. “Good. Do you want me to stay in for the night while you do that?”

The look he gave her then might’ve punched her in the heart, if she was a softer person. His eyes were so earnest, his mouth slack in surprise and not a small amount of awe, like it never occurred to him that she’d call off her plans just because he needed her. She grimaced and made a separate mental note to be a little nicer to him. The guy was clearly going through some shit.

Blitzø didn’t say a word, but he gave a tiny nod, like he was afraid she’d make fun of him for admitting it.

She decided she had enough with all this feelings stuff for the night and didn’t call him out for it. Better for the both of them if she led them back into their comfort zone. Didn’t wanna get too attached. That dick head would never let her live it down if she did.

“Alright,” she said quietly, already inching away. “I’ll be in my room. Just… shout if you need me, I guess.”

He only nodded again, turning his gaze down to the journal like it was going to bite him. She shut the door, leaning her forehead against it with a quiet groan. She wasn’t good at stuff like this, for fuck’s sake.

Shrugging off the last ten minutes, she pulled out her phone to text her friends about cancelling that night. She called out to Blitzø, “And I’m taking you up on that dinner offer though! Leave the money on the counter, I’ll grab it later!”

She heard a muffled affirmative before turning to her stereo and blasting some heavy metal.

All this soft shit was making her feel gross.

The hardest part was starting.

Blitzø stared at the first blank page for a solid fifteen minutes, perched on the edge of the couch cushion with a pen at the ready. He bit absently at his lip, his thoughts racing in and around, up and down. Where to start? What to say? What was the point? This was so dumb, but Loony asked him to do it…

When he started to taste blood, he got up from the couch to grab a paper towel, pressing it against his lip as he glared at the little book from across the apartment. Why was something so simple so hard for him?

Because if it was going to help, he had to be honest. And he hadn’t been honest with himself for a damn long time now.

His irritation dried up along with the blood on his lip, resignation settling over his bones like a heavy blanket. He had to do this, since he clearly wasn’t getting a grip on things by doing it his way.

Alright, you win this round, he thought bitterly, picturing his therapist and giving her an enthusiastic middle finger. I’ll try.

An older piece of her advice floated out of his memory.

It doesn’t matter where you start. Just that you start somewhere.

A proper fire suddenly lit under his ass. Call it desperation, a heartbroken imp grasping at straws, or stubbornness, an old companion of his that would force him to get back out of bed when he was at rock bottom. He’d been through so much at that point in his life, more downs than ups, and fuck he wasn’t gonna lie down and die over a broken heart.

Time to pick up the pieces and start to stitch himself back together. If Stolas didn’t feel the same, then Blitzø would just have to find a way to live with that. He didn’t know how, but he knew he had to try.

And so he started to write.

Well, calling it writing was a bit generous. To him, it felt like word vomit. But that was the only writing he was probably capable of doing, so it checked out.

Stolas was at the forefront of his mind, as always, so Blitzø started there.

He ranted about that night at the club, how Stolas had let Blitzø think he cared. How dare he act so sweet with him for months on end, gushing over his skills and always eager for his company. How dare he be so... loving, when he didn’t feel that way at all.

Prick, Blitzø thought, one hand clenched into a fist and the other shaking as it wrote.

Stolas was always giving him mixed signals, thirsting over his dick and then asking how his day fucking went. It was no surprise Blitzø started to wonder if Stolas was getting attached too. The demon gave off every impression of really caring, maybe even falling in love with him, and Blitzø’s poor battered heart, the heart that craved that kind of connection as strongly as his lungs craved air, soaked it up like a dried out sponge. It would skip a beat when Stolas looked at him, eyes soft with emotion and brow relaxed, smiling sweetly as though there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

Despite his best efforts to keep Stolas at a distance, Blitzø quickly found himself getting dangerously attached. After the Loo Loo Land disaster, after he saw Stolas had a kid he actually cared about very deeply, Blitzø’s opinion of him started to change.

He’d only ever seen Stolas as a pompous royal prick, sitting prim in his palace and talking down to him on the phone with a haughty, stick-up-the-ass tone. He was a snob, a cruel cheater who didn’t care when his wife was publicly humiliated at her own party, a thirsty owl who only wanted Blitzø for what he had in his pants.

Blitzø knew better now though. Even if Stolas showed his hand in the club and he really did only want Blitzø for his dick, the rest of his first impressions were pretty off the mark.

Stolas had been hiding his real personality for centuries, perhaps longer, and when he tried to finally explore his interests, his wife only screamed at him. Blitzø could hear her from across the mansion, grateful he wasn’t the target of it. Directly, at least. She threw furniture and extremely personal insults at Stolas in equal measure, but he was unfazed. Guilty about how it affected his daughter? Absolutely. But guilty about finally sleeping with a man, or experimenting in the bedroom, or putting his own desires above his wife’s wishes for the first time in their marriage? Not at all.

Maybe Stolas would’ve felt more remorse if she was just offended by his infidelity, but that wasn’t the case. One morning after a full moon, Blitzø had overheard her screeching about how he brought disgrace to their name by sleeping with an imp, specifically. If it had been another royal, she’d said she could’ve learned to live with it, eventually.

Blitzø remembered hearing Stolas finally snap at that moment, anger making his voice heavy and dangerous, saying that she shouldn’t give her opinion on things she knew nothing about. It must’ve been rare for him to retaliate, since she’d gone silent as the grave, leaving Stolas free to stalk off with his head high. Blitzø remembered feeling kind of flattered from his position hiding in the bedroom wardrobe.

He knew now that Stolas was certainly embarrassed about their affair getting out to the public, but it was still nice to hear him defend his lover to his wife’s face. Blitzø knew most nobles probably would have tossed him aside once the heat was on them. More trouble than he was worth. But Stolas had stood his ground, and Blitzø slipped further into his infatuation.

As for his other impression of Stolas being a snob, he was filthy rich, but he wasn’t an ass about it. Sure, he’d throw money around like it was going out of style, but he was also just genuinely excited to be out and about wherever, like he didn’t care if it was leagues away from where the rest of the rich nobles hung around. He went to Loo Loo Land unironically for years, just because Octavia had liked it, even when an infinitely more popular and expensive Lu Lu World would have been more socially accepted.

He was even willing to travel all the way down to Wrath for his work, a ring that demons like his wife would never have been caught dead in. For fuck’s sake, he got so excited watching Blitzø just roll around in the mud during the competition. He was also the picture of eagerness when Blitzø caught up with him after Striker got away, the relief of Stolas being alright zinging through his veins as he kissed him silly in a dark corner.

He’d dragged the dazed owl to a deserted barn away from the festival crowd and fucked him against a dirty wall. Stolas’s face had been so open and animated, moaning out his joy as Blitzø slammed into him over and over. Blitzø remembered the calmness that spread through him once they were done, driving the last of the adrenaline from the fight out of his system. He’d noticed Stolas was staring at him, pure adoration in his eyes, but for once he didn’t panic and just kissed him again to keep him quiet and distracted and not asking questions.

Blitzø normally wouldn’t have been so openly affectionate, but he chalked it up to going through an emotional ringer that day.

He remembered how Stolas looked afterward, clothes rumpled and coated with warm dusty dirt from being shoved against the wall. His top hat had fallen in their haste, also covered in dirt and straw. Blitzø picked it up with a wince once they were done, but Stolas didn’t blink, just dusted it off and popped it onto his head with a small kiss to his cheek and a quiet “thank you, darling.” Rumpled and pleased and utterly satisfied, Stolas had wandered back for the rest of the festivities, Blitzø watching him go with a smile.

No stuck up prissy noble would’ve walked out from a filthy barn with their head so high in dirty clothes and a dented top hat. Especially after being fucked silly against a wall by an imp. Blitzø had been strangely charmed.

He’d realized not long after that day that it was happening again. He was getting attached to someone else, developing… feelings.

Looking back as he wrote, though, if he was being honest with himself, how could he have helped it? Stolas was annoying at times, but he was also very sweet and devoted, not just to Blitzø, but with his daughter as well. Being a family man himself, of course Blitzø would’ve fallen for him. And so quickly too! One day nothing, and then the next, those old butterflies had erupted in his chest as he found himself wholeheartedly looking forward to their full moon meetings.

But he wasn’t a fool. He went out of his way to make sure Stolas never saw how much Blitzø wanted him, no longer just for sex but for every part of him, quirks and all. Verosika had been a very effective lesson that other demons only wanted Blitzø for his dick, and Stolas often fed into that theory. When all of their time together always, without fail, ended up with them fucking, Blitzø could only see that as confirming what he knew, despite how his starving heart hoped it could be more. Sure, Stolas would try to entice him to spend the night or to invite him out for non-sex things, but Blitzø knew it was just a ploy to endear the poor imp to him further.

Blitzø had always made a good bed warmer, and Stolas somehow knew that. That’s all it could’ve been. Blitzø should never have gotten his hopes up for more. Every sweet action, every soft word was just to keep Blitzø coming back. Sure, he’d started to wonder if Stolas felt something too, after the festival and then again when he showed up for the dramatic rescue with those dorky agents. But any hopes he might’ve had were firmly crushed the night of their date.

Parked outside the Goetia mansion, he’d finally told Stolas what he long suspected was the truth: Stolas only wanted to fuck him. He sat in the van waiting for an answer, his heart thundering so strongly he was afraid it might finally give out. Deny it, he’d screamed in his head, Stolas drawing away from the van’s window and staying silent. Please, tell me I’m wrong, I have to be, you couldn’t have faked all of it, please just... tell me you care.

But Stolas didn’t say a word, and his silence felt like a confirmation. There had been no denial, just a bow and a quiet good night.

Blitzø couldn’t have driven away fast enough.

He stopped writing only when tears began falling onto the ink. He paused, not even noticing when he started to cry. Wiping his eyes, he glanced to the side and saw a long-ass spicy hoagie. Huh, he must’ve been at this for a while. Hopefully Loona dropped it off before he got blubbery.

Deciding a break was in order, he slowly devoured his dinner, mind racing. His heart was hurting more than ever, but it felt oddly liberating to have his tangle of thoughts physically written down. His spelling was atrocious, but what else was new? He thought he’d feel angry just thinking about Stolas, raging against yet another person he’d been dumb enough to fall for, but he didn’t. He just felt sad.

Was he simply unloveable? The thought made him choke on his bite of food. He didn’t want to believe it, but his track record said otherwise.

Stolas felt… different though. Verosika had treated him like shit until almost the very end of their relationship. She’d mock him, tear him down until he felt so small and worthless. Any time he tried to be affectionate, she’d bite his head off and then leave to spend the night with someone else.

On the other hand, Stolas seemed to crave Blitzø’s attention. Any time he slipped up and absently stroked Stolas’s back as they winded down for the night, the owl would fluff up with pleasure and scoot closer into his side with a quiet, thrilled hoot. Blitzø’s heart would always feel warm on nights like that. It was such a wonderful feeling to hold him close, so wonderful that he was convinced it wasn’t real, that he didn’t deserve it, that it couldn’t possibly be Blitzø making Stolas so happy.

He told himself he wasn’t anything special, that Stolas was just affectionate because he’d been lonely for so long. His bed partner could just as easily have been any other imp, any other person in Hell. There was nothing wonderful about Blitzø, nothing that could win the love of such a beautiful and powerful demon. He was nothing that couldn’t be replaced.

If Stolas knew how he felt, the facade would surely fall away, and he’d mock him for it as well. An imp daring to want a relationship with a Goetia? He’d probably break off their deal in disgust. And then cast him into the abyss with a laugh.

After all, Blitzø had learned from Verosika that he was never enough.

The anger was finally starting to simmer in his gut. Not at Stolas - it wasn’t his fault Blitzø got his wired crossed somewhere and started to fall for him - but at Verosika for playing with his heart, at Fizzarolli for treating him like he was a stranger, like they didn’t have a shared history going all the way back to when they were kids and best friends.

With a snarl, he shoveled the rest of the sandwich in his mouth and started to write again. This time, it was an absolute rant, going over every shitty thing those two had said to him over the years, every time they wronged him, how they made him feel unloved and unworthy and so, so afraid to be intimate with someone.

His bad drug trip had been right on the mark: he wanted intimacy, wanted to love and be loved, but he’d been fucked over so many times that he wasn’t sure he was capable of it. Sometimes it was intentional, other times not, but he always pushed away the ones he cared about. Sooner or later.

He was starting to recognize, though, that he shouldn’t have to shoulder all the blame. He was a piece of shit, of course, but so were Verosika and Fizz. They’d fucked him over and he’d simply returned the favor. No need for him to drown alone in his guilt. They certainly didn’t seem too torn up about it all.

His journal had quickly pivoted from crying over his unrequited feelings to a veritable essay-long hit list on how those two fucked with his feelings. Both the sadness and the anger were cathartic, his hand unable to keep up with all the emotions pouring through him. Dawn was starting to creep over the horizon by the time he finally set down his pen. Soft snores were coming from Loona’s room.

Blitzø was a bit surprised at how much better he felt by the end. Nothing had actually changed, the whore and the clown probably out on the town having a blast and his heart still shattered and painful to the touch in his chest. But just venting, seeing all the words he’d sprawled across those pages, had dulled the pain. He was beginning to grasp what went wrong, how he’d become so incapable of trusting people, how he’d tricked himself into thinking Stolas cared for him, why he’d wanted so badly to believe it.

He loved Stolas. And he’d known that for a while. But now he also knew Stolas didn’t feel the same. And he’d have to accept that. Somehow learn to keep his emotions in check the next time their full moon meeting rolled around. Which was like a week away.

God, that was gonna hurt.

But, for the first time since their date, even though the pain was still very present and accounted for, he didn’t feel like it was choking him. It would suck, but he’d get through this. Because he had to. For his business and for his daughter. But also for his pride. He wouldn’t give up just because the man he loved didn’t love him back.

He walked out the door slowly, making his way downstairs and into the small pitiful excuse for a yard the apartment building had out back. The burn barrel was sitting there innocently.

Kindling was added, then the journal, and finally his lighter, all of it going up in a glorious blaze. He didn’t know how long he stayed out in the yard, transfixed by the flickering, but he knew it felt good to watch it burn. All the demons from his past, making him live in perpetual guilt, fading away like ash. All his deepest hopes and dreams of wanting more with Stolas. Those were still anchored deep in his chest, twined so tightly around his bones like vines choking a tree, but this still felt like a good first step to letting go. At some point, he started to cry again, but it was a good cry, a release of some of the trauma he’d long since buried and internalized.

Loona joined him at some point, the sky much lighter than it had been when he walked out. She wordlessly offered him a cigarette and a fresh lighter, her eyes fixed on the fire too. He accepted both and took a long drag.

He’d somehow learn to live with this. But holy fuck it hurt.

The rest of the week crept by slowly, but Blitzø was feeling more stable. He could see Loona’s visible relief as he swaggered through the office, whistling a truly insufferable tune. It was getting easier for him to pretend, a definite improvement in his book. Moxxie had been shooting him death glares all week, Blitzø’s incessant whistling drilling into his brain. Joke was on him though. Shouldn’t he have realized by now that Blitzø would’ve stopped days ago if Moxxie wasn’t being such a little bitch about it?

Idiot. Blitzø snickered and then started whistling, shooting Moxxie a wink as he walked out the door after their meeting. He heard Millie approach and try to calm her husband down. Hopefully unsuccessfully. The day was so much more fun when Moxx was pissed.

Well, it would’ve been fun if not for the mountain of payroll paperwork waiting for him on his desk. The duties of a boss, he supposed. With a soul shaking groan, he threw his coat to the side and rolled up his sleeves. If Moxxie didn’t get his paycheck by the time ticket sales started for that new musical up in Pentagram City, he’d probably shoot Blitzø’s dick off.

As he worked though, he kept glancing at his phone, getting a sick feeling of deja vu from a week ago, back when he was in the throes of his mental breakdown. It was a full moon tonight, and he was waiting for instructions from Stolas. When to come, what to bring, how have you been, Blitzy?

Only there was nothing. No texts, no calls. He hadn’t heard from Stolas since that night at the club. Maybe he was busy with rich demon shit?

Finally, just as he was wrapping up around 5 o’clock, he got a text. From Stolas.

He read it, and his heart dropped down to his feet.

I’m feeling a bit under the weather tonight, Blitz. You needn’t come over, simply leave my grimoire with the front doorman tomorrow morning. I’ll have someone drop it off at your office the following day.

…

What?

Blitzø scanned it again. Stolas wasn’t feeling good? They were skipping this month? Not rescheduling? He didn’t even want to see him? He quickly texted back.

You sick or something?

Dread was thudding through his veins as he waited for a response. Usually Stolas’s answers were immediate, like he was hovering over his phone whenever Blitzø was texting him.

This one took several minutes, and it didn’t make Blitzø feel any better.

It’s merely a cold. I apologize for the inconvenience.

Blitzø sent off some sort of platitude, get better soon, see you next month, but his mind was miles away.

Was it because of something he did? Something he said? Because he… didn’t want to sleep with Stolas after Ozzie’s?

There wasn’t a lot of evidence for that last one, but his brain had snagged onto it like a thread, coming apart even as he tried to hold himself together.

Was Stolas actually sick? Or did he listen to what Fizz and Verosika said about Blitzø being a piece of shit? Was he… finally coming to his senses? Getting tired of him?

He knew it was only a matter of time, but the thought still struck like lightning. Knowing it would eventually come didn’t make it hurt any less. That sickeningly familiar panic was racing through him, his breath getting short and eyes cloudy. He clenched his phone tightly in his hand.

Was Stolas leaving him too?

No, no, he immediately tried to stop thinking, shaking in his chair. It felt like the walls were closing in around him. There wasn’t enough air. He couldn’t breathe. He suddenly pictured his empty apartment. Loona had rescheduled her plans to that very night, planning to go out drinking with her friends until dawn. He’d be alone, no one but him... and his thoughts.

Before he could think it through, he was moving, rushing towards his office door. He yanked it open, taking several deep breaths, before calling out, “Hey, MnM, Stolas canceled, he’s sick or some shit. Wanna finally go to the new bar down the street?”

Millie quickly decided she should be the sober friend for the night.

Blitzø was knocking drinks back so fast, she was worried she’d have to physically step in to slow him down. She had the muscle for it, of course, but that wasn’t fun for anyone. The last thing she wanted was to have to clean her clothes of cheap booze and vomit first thing in the morning. At his current pace, he’d blow before two AM. He was gulping down his newest pint of beer like the answer to all his problems waited at the bottom of the glass.

She made a subtle gesture to the bartender to cut him off, and the imp nodded, keeping his back turned to Blitzø. Not a lot of bartenders in Imp City would’ve honored her request. Most would be more than happy to keep the liquor flowing into Blitzø’s gaping mouth as long as the money kept flowing too. Millie made a mental note to come back here again another night. And to leave a nice tip. She started watching Blitzø out of the corner of her eye, seeing him start to slow down and nurse his drink once he noticed the bartender gaining distance.

Besides her worrying about keeping her clothes free of vomit, she had some questions for him. And he looked like he needed a sympathetic ear.

The place was pretty crowded, but they’d secured three bar seats for their little evening. There weren’t any fights yet, which was a small miracle, but the night was young, and Millie was determined to keep a close eye on the two boys.

It wasn’t even midnight yet, but Moxxie was always the worst at holding his alcohol. She’d actively encouraged his drinking a bit, feeling slightly guilty, but she knew Blitzø would be more likely to open up if there wasn’t a chance Moxxie could overhear and use it as blackmail. Five drinks in, mission accomplished. Moxx was a happy, sleepy drunk, head pillowed on his arms on the bar while Millie absently scratched his horns to keep him dozing.

Now for the hard part.

“Blitz?”

“Yeah?”

His voice was a bit gravelly. Now that the danger of Moxxie’s ridicule passed, he seemed more pensive, a despondent twist to his mouth. His mask was slipping. Millie noticed his eyes were still very unfocused. Perhaps he’d had enough to drink for a little honesty. Fingers crossed he wouldn’t bite her head off.

“I was just wonderin,” she began, fiddling with her glass of water. “How’re you doin, B? You looked pretty happy the last couple days. Somethin’ happen this afternoon?”

When he stayed quiet, she thought for a minute that he wouldn’t answer, just brush her off as usual and pretend all was well. But then his mouth twitched and he shut his eyes tightly, brow furrowed as he appeared to urgently hold back tears. She placed a hand on his arm.

“B?”

He seemed to come to some sort of conclusion, his shoulders slumping forward over the bar and the air huffing suddenly out of his lungs. She had to strain to hear, but it sounded like he whispered, “What do you have to lose?”

And then he just started talking, words pouring out of him in a flood. Millie was impressed. She thought she’d have to do a lot more teeth pulling. He must’ve been more at the end of his rope than she realized.

“I just- it’s Stolas,” he started. He took a sip of his drink. “I know he doesn’t care about me.” Millie was surprised, unsure how to respond, and Blitzø didn’t appear to like the silence, quickly rambling on with the alcohol flowing through him. “Which sucks, cause I mean- I care about him. How could I not, Mills? Just look at him. He’s sweet and sexy and smart. All kinky and kind and shit. He’s so out of my league, it’s almost fucking funny.” He sighed sadly. “Can’t believe I started to think he cared about me too.”

“What makes you think he doesn’t?” Her protective instincts flared up, her eyes sparking with rage, murder in the twitch of her fingertips on the bar counter. “Did he say somethin to you?”

Blitzø seemed to think for a moment, before shrugging his shoulders. “You saw him at Ozzie’s club. They called him out for fucking an imp, and he just… hid. Ozzie and Fizz put me down on the chair right in front of him, and he couldn’t even look at me.” His expression was blank.

Millie gave a sympathetic coo. “He was probably just uncomfortable. Everybody was lookin’ at him, sweetie.”

Blitzø scoffed. “I had to stand there and take all the shit they were dishing out too, you know! And I didn’t fucking hide. Least he could do was own up to it, that asshole.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he glanced the other way, breathing deeply.

Millie just watched him, mind racing. She had no idea Blitzø had gotten so attached. Suddenly, everytime he snapped at her for calling Stolas his boyfriend made a lot more sense.

Blitzø composed himself and continued, staring at Millie imploringly, desperate to have someone else understand.

“They all said I was just a thrust, and he didn’t deny it. I know I’m only an imp, Mills, and he’s a fucking prince, a literal demonic prince charming straight out of those fucked up fairytales from when we were kids.” He looked away from her and back to his drink, eyes sad and distant and the alcohol clearly helping keep his tongue loose. “I’ve always known he couldn’t actually care about me, you know? Even after I messed up and started feeling all soft around him, I’ve always remembered that much. But I just couldn’t fucking help myself.” Suddenly, he started tearing up, looking like his heart was breaking all over again. “You should’ve seen him, Millie. He was so excited to go out with me, wearing his fanciest shit like I was someone he wanted to dress up for. God, he was smiling so damn big, I actually thought he might’ve…”

He tapered off, sniffling. Millie reached over to rub his back. He leaned into her hand, soaking up the comfort, and knocked back more of his drink. He resumed quietly.

“He started talking to me at the table, and it made me so uncomfortable. I thought he’d be happy just to get out of the house. That he wouldn’t care I was using him to get into the club, as long as he got railed after. But then he started acting like it was an actual date. I was all confused and then guilty and then Moxxie started his song and shit hit the fan and… and then he hid his face, so easily. No hesitation. I know I shouldn’t have, but I felt- I dunno, abandoned or something.”

“You were hoping he’d stand up for you,” Millie told him quietly. Blitzø paused before giving a jerky nod, like it hurt him to admit it to another person, to admit it to himself.

“When I saw him do that, I remembered he couldn’t ever love me back.” He sniffled, turning away to wipe his eyes. “I’m just an imp, dirt under his talons.”

Millie waited for a while as he composed himself and then asked softly, “You love him?”

Blitzø went still as stone, probably realizing how much he let slip. She saw him shoot a filthy look at his beer and push it out of reach. He glanced her way and must’ve seen how her expression was filled only with sympathy, no judgment. Unrequited love was one of the most painful things she could imagine, and her heart was heavy for her poor boss. He finally gave a small nod, watching her closely and looking ready to bolt if she turned on him.

“How long have you known?”

“I dunno,” he mumbled. “A couple months maybe?”

“And you never told him?”

He looked at her like she suddenly had five heads. “Mills, what part of this aren’t you getting? He only wants me for sex. He’s all lovey dovey, yeah, but it’s just an act to soften me up and get me into bed. That’s what always happens. He’s just a super affectionate guy, I’m nothing special. Sure, I was stupid and started to believe it, but that night reminded me how fucking naive I was being.”

Millie looked unconvinced. The self-loathing in his voice was so thick she could almost taste the tang of it on her tongue. He faced his drink again and slowly kept talking. He seemed to be having trouble meeting her gaze.

“After I drove him home, he tried to get me to go inside with him, talking about having wine and how his house was all empty. I told him I wasn’t up to fucking him that night. Then that asshole wouldn’t let it go and started asking me to come inside just to talk.” She raised an eyebrow. He was quick to add on, “That’s something he does before sex. Making small talk is just the first step when he’s bothering with foreplay.”

“I dunno, Blitz. You don’t think maybe he just wanted to spend time with you?”

He appeared to really think about his answer. “Maybe before. Back when I was wondering if he loved me back or not. But after the club, after how embarrassed he was when everyone knew he was fucking an imp, and a shitty one at that, how he didn’t even defend me, I just-” He choked, his words giving out for a moment and his hand clenched so tightly on his glass she saw it crack a little. “It’s just sex for him, Millie. I know that now. I snapped at him after I took him home, told him I knew the truth. ‘You’re only with me because you wanna fuck me.’ And… he didn’t say anything.” Blitzø was shattered, eyes haunted as he looked to Millie for guidance, like he was adrift at sea and she might have a rope to throw his way. “He didn’t deny it, Mills. Just pulled away and told me good night.”

He shook a bit, hunched over his glass and eyes distant with pain and alcohol. Millie put an arm around his shoulders, and he leaned into her side eagerly, gratefully. For all his outward, obvious pain, she thought she detected a thread of exhausted relief loosening in his shoulders. She realized she was probably the only person he talked to about all this. To have so much grief bottled up inside, never telling anyone… Her own heart was breaking for him.

“I’m so sorry, B. That’s… terrible.” She hesitated. Here goes. “I just- maybe you should talk to Stolas.”

Blitzø went still against her shoulder, but didn’t move away. He was hardly breathing.

“I mean, I saw him at the Harvest Jamboree. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you!” She swooned a little, just thinking about it. “He hangs off every single word you say. Every time you look at him, he lights up like a little kid on his birthday. I don’t think somebody can fake that, sweetie.”

He was still quiet, but he pulled away to discreetly wipe his eyes. She felt a little encouraged, seeing he was actually listening to her for once, and quickly continued.

“And with those dumb demon hunters! I still get all shivery when I remember how he swooped in to save us.” She clasped her hands together, hearts in her eyes. “To have a demon prince get all pissed when someone kidnaps you! Ooh, you were right before, it’s straight outta a fairytale.”

“It was just because the book was in trouble,” Blitzø mumbled. Millie smiled at him like he was being intentionally thick.

“If that was true, he woulda opened up a portal and plucked it outta Loona’s hands to safety. Or even just portaled us all out if he was worried about leavin’ evidence. But he didn’t. He terrorized them, B. They’ll have nightmares for years. All because they were threatenin’ you.”

Blitzø finally met her gaze, a spark of hope flickering in his eyes.

“Do you really think so?”

“I do. Don’t you remember how he looked at you after? Holdin’ your face and askin’ if you were okay? He called you darlin’.”

He blushed, grinning bashfully. “Yeah, he did, didn’t he?”

Millie smiled at him warmly. “I’m not sayin’ you’re definitely gonna like what he was to say for himself, but I still think you two should talk. Maybe you’ve got some things all mixed up.” She shrugged. “Only the guy of your dreams can tell you what he feels, right outta his little bird beak.”

Blitzø normally would have laughed at someone making fun of the “creepy mouth”, but he stayed somber, his eyes dimming a bit. “But what if he doesn’t feel the same, Mills? What if he laughs in my fucking face for being dumb enough to fall in love with him?”

Millie gave him a wicked smile. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen, but if he did?” She glanced pointedly down to the knife at her waist. “Then he didn’t deserve you anyway, sweetie.”

He finally laughed a bit, looking freer. Then he wilted again. She wanted to cry. His inner demons were persistent little fuckers.

“What if he decides to take the book back?”

Millie huffed. “You’re gonna drown yourself in these what-ifs, Blitz!” He didn’t look convinced. She took a deep breath and softened her tone. “If he does, then we’ll make it work, boss. We always do! Besides, if he cares about you and you care about him, it’s a dumb idea to have that silly little book hangin’ between you two. Just talk to him, and go from there. We’ve got your back, no matter what.”

Blitzø gave her a watery smile. It seemed like the hope she’d been trying to kindle in him finally caught to life. It was such a weight off her shoulders, she could only imagine how much better he was feeling.

Moxxie suddenly roused from his doze on the bar beside Millie, drunkenly swaying in his stool. “Whose back are we getting?”

She beamed at him, looking sweetly into his hazy eyes. “Blitz’s!”

“Oh… well sure, I guess,” Moxxie shrugged absently, making grabby hands for Blitzø’s drink. He only gave a token muffled protest when Blitzø gathered them both into a bone breaking hug.

Millie let out a happy squeal as Blitzø started clamoring to take a selfie with them, saying such a nice night just had to be posted. It was nice to see Blitzø feeling better. Now she could only hope he’d actually take her advice.

Blitzø wanted to do as Millie said, so badly. He would love to be wrong, just this once. Honestly, he surprised himself a bit. God, how did he still have hope left to crush?

Maybe he could put his broken heart to rest. A chance to clean the air with Stolas? To finally tell him how he really felt? Stolas wouldn’t return his feelings, of course, but maybe he wouldn’t laugh in his face. He might even understand, in a way. After all, he must be at least a little fond of Blitzø.

It was one thing when Blitzø noticed the prince’s soft gaze in private and thought he was imagining things. Now that he knew Millie saw it too, maybe there was a chance Stolas wouldn’t smite him where he stood if Blitzø told him how he felt. He might at least be willing to hear him out. It would be nice to spend his days without the unacknowledged feelings hanging over him like a shroud, covering the sun and blunting any joy he felt.

He knew there was no future for them, but he might’ve been able to put the pain to rest if he could finally be honest. At least, that was the lesson he’d drunkenly picked up from Millie.

Problem was, anytime he sat down to call Stolas and tell him they needed to talk, he’d fold. Put his phone away without sending any messages. Go find something else to keep him busy. Oh, he’d do it, once he was done with the dishes or redoing the wallpaper in the office building. Millie was shooting him looks, but he couldn’t help it! It felt like he was about to stick his own head in the noose.

One day, Blitzø stopped dead in his tracks when he heard Stolas’s voice. Loona had turned on their little office TV, and Stolas was there, being interviewed about some dumb gossip on the news. Apparently his wife had gone to an important party, Stolas didn’t accompany her, is there trouble in paradise, sir? The events at Ozzie’s were unspoken, but definitely known to the demon asking questions. He knew the marriage was rocky. Stolas was quiet but held his ground, brushing off the concerns, but Blitzø could see something was wrong. He looked exhausted, feathers presentable but definitely more mussed than normal. His eyes were dull, distracted, lacking the usual sparkle Stolas got when he was the center of attention.

Is he really sick? Blitzø wondered, frowning at Stolas’s face on screen. His heart twinged with sympathy. That was new.

Millie sidled up next to him, leaning over and whispering in his ear, “Text him, please.”

He looked at her helplessly.

“Just ask how he’s doin’. No need to spill your guts right off the bat.”

She had a point. That evening, tucked into a corner of the sofa with a horse plushie hugged tightly against his chest, he finally texted.

It wasn’t an emotional love letter, calling out for his lover to let him help. God, just the thought made him gag. No, better to keep it simple.

Cold all better yet? Still contagious and shit?

As soon as he hit send, he tossed the phone to the far side of the couch, eyeing it like it was primed to explode. It didn’t. Stolas didn’t even text him back that night. It wasn’t until the following day, during his busy lunch hour picking food up for his employees, that he finally got an answer. He had to juggle three bags of burgers and fries and a carrier of drinks, but he was proud of himself for reaching his phone without any casualties.

He shouldn’t have bothered though. Stolas’s text was vague and impersonal.

I’m doing better, thank you.

Blitzø stopped dead in the street. No teasing him for showing concern? No whining about his symptoms? Not even asking how Blitzø was doing?

A few weeks ago, back when he was still raw and reeling, Blitzø probably would’ve gotten irritated and defensive. Stolas couldn’t even pretend to talk to him? What, he didn’t want to see Blitzø after the imp didn’t wanna fuck him? Now that the cat’s out of the bag with the affair?

But all Blitzø could muster at this point was concern. Was Stolas okay?

Days passed, and Blitzø didn’t know how to start up a conversation. What could he say to get Stolas to open up a bit? A small part of his brain wondered why he was even worried. Stolas didn’t care about him. Why should he go out of his way to be there for someone who didn’t love him back?

Because Blitzø still loved Stolas. Even if it wasn’t returned, he wanted Stolas to be happy.

Wow, what a fucking mature thought. His therapist would be proud.

Eventually, he decided to do what he did with everything else: wing it.

He texted Stolas a picture of one of his neighbor’s plants. Their apartment was next to his and Loona’s, so their balconies were right on top of each other. His neighbor had recently picked up a new potted plant and left it on their railing. The thing was scarlet and neon green with jagged teeth, beady eyes, and strong vines growing slowly out of the pot. Blitzø could’ve sworn it growled at him when he stepped out for a smoke that day.

Trying not to think too much about it, he’d sent off the picture and some messages.

Neighbor got a new plant, it’s freaking me the fuck out

Can it wander in at night and kill me?

Stolas was much quicker to answer that time.

No, no, those are stationary. Not harmless though, so keep your fingers far away.

Short and sweet, but Blitzø could hear the undertone of amusement. He grinned, snubbing out his cigarette and wandering back into his apartment.

Stolas finally cracked his door open, and damn it if Blitzø wasn’t gonna shove his boot right through.

They kept up a steady stream of texts over the next few days. Blitzø hesitated to say they were talking, more like shooting comments back and forth about things going on in their day. It was all lighthearted, never talking about heavy shit like feelings being unreturned or Blitzø’s old ache of betrayal at Stolas throwing him under the bus at the club. In fact, they pointedly avoided talking about Ozzie’s, the gargantuan elephant in the room. Perhaps if they could pretend it hadn’t happened, it would be like it really didn’t.

Only, Blitzø didn’t want to forget. A month or so ago, it made his breath catch to even think about it, a gaping hole in his chest widening every moment until he thought it might swallow him. Not to say he was doing swell now. A broken heart couldn’t be overcome so easily, of course. He would still wake in the middle of the night with a cold sweat, arms aching for a body that wasn’t there. But the pain was now braided through with a thread of hope.

Stolas was speaking to him. They were being civil. And with every pleasant word they exchanged, every joke, Blitzø couldn’t stop wondering if maybe Millie was right. Maybe he was wrong about Stolas. Maybe he did care. As the days dragged on, their conversations would last a little longer.

What’s erudite mean? Som client was pullin out the big words

It's a fancy word for smart.

Just say smart then??? Why do u need fancy words for it?

It’s merely a synonym.

It’s pretentious. Learned that one today too

Ooh, a ten pointer!

Bitch that’s a hundred points

I’m assuming you didn’t know what that one meant either, then?

U callin me dumb?

I would never! I happen to think you’re very intelligent.

Good, cause I went to college and everything

Did you skip the classes on grammar and vocabulary?

The what?

...

Alright fine Moxx told me what pretentious means

Ah, I see.

He didn’t know what erudite meant tho. That’s why I asked u

You thought of me?

Well ur the smartest guy I know

...

Hey Stolas

Yes, Blitz?

What’s a synonym?

They were silly little conversations, but they left Blitzø smiling at his phone throughout the day. This was the first time they’d ever texted so casually. Millie would send him an enthusiastic thumbs up when she saw, and he tried not to pay it any attention. He’d let her tease him just this once. His mood was finally improving, and it was a weight off all their shoulders.

Something was wrong, though.

Blitzø was pleased Stolas was willing to chat, of course. Especially about such dumb shit. He even started initiating some of their conversations, after a week or so of Blitzø badgering him.

One time he sent a discreet picture of a stuffy snake demon he was in a meeting with and asked for Blitzø’s opinion of their outfit. When Stolas told Blitzø the demon was also a total ass, that particular conversation quickly devolved into a veritable roast of the pompous noble. Blitzø couldn’t know for sure, since he wasn’t in the room, but he had a pretty good guess that Stolas was choking back snorts of laughter the whole time. Blitzø always enjoyed making Stolas laugh, but he couldn’t shake the feeling he was holding something back.

One day he suddenly realized what was off. There was a suspicious lack of sexual texts.

Don’t get him wrong, it had been more fun than he thought just texting Stolas about whatever crossed his mind on a given day. But it was still Stolas he was talking to. Surely at least one innuendo, even just an offhand comment about missing Blitzø’s dick, would’ve come up at some point. But nope, nothing. Considering he’d thought his dick was the only thing Stolas was interested in, Blitzø found himself even more confused and unsure where they stood.

God, would Stolas ever stop with the mixed signals?

Blitzø tried not to let it get to him, though. He’d often felt like an oversexualized toy when Stolas spoke to him. To have the guy suddenly texting him like they were friends was honestly a welcome change. It was the sort of easy back and forth he’d found himself dreaming of when he was younger. Why look a gift horse in the mouth?

Still, he noticed the change. Something had happened on Stolas’s end.

Plus, he pointedly wasn’t calling him Blitzy. That stung more than he thought it would.

It became more apparent something was wrong as the month went by. Blitzø tried not to get himself worked up, but he didn’t like the uncertainty of it all. Stolas had been weird since Ozzie’s, but he never said anything. Was he waiting for Blitzø to start the conversation? Why?

At Millie’s encouragement, Blitzø tried to be brave. He really did, fighting back his self-doubt every step of the way.

If Stolas wasn’t being sexual, then he must be texting him simply because he enjoyed talking. Which Blitzø had honestly never thought was possible. What else did Stolas think he was good for, except sex?

That stubborn thread of hope was blooming brighter in Blitzø’s chest. He wanted to push the boundaries a little bit, see how Stolas would respond if Blitzø tried to… flirt. After all, he’d never really come onto Stolas. It was always the other way around.

They were doing their daily texting, same as usual, but an opportunity arose, and Blitzø finally went for it. They’d been talking about some ugly hat Stolas had seen one of his peers wearing that day.

It can’t be that bad birdy

Blitz, it’s an absolutely atrocious chartreuse. With large floofy magenta feathers. Whoever designed it should be strung and quartered.

Send a pic

I can’t! Everyone would see.

So? Wuss

Very well, fine.

That's grainy af

It’s the best I can do! I’m sorry I don’t have photo shoot lighting at this angle for you!

Ehh the hat’s not that bad

You’re messing with me again, aren’t you?

Nope. Looks shit cause it’s on a shit demon. U could make it work, u look pretty in everything

Stolas suddenly stopped replying after that. Blitzø didn’t know what to make of it. Compliments usually made Stolas light up a whole room, not that Blitzø had ever given him one before, but now he was clamming up?

What a pain in the ass. Blitzø was actually proud of himself. He had to pluck up a fuck ton of courage to be so honest. That bird was the prettiest demon he’d ever seen, but this was the first time he’d told him. And all that asshole did in return was go radio silent.

Blitzø tried, but he couldn’t hold onto his irritation for longer than a few minutes and a firm kick to his office garbage can. And a curse. It didn’t make him feel better.

He waited all day, but when he didn’t receive a response by the evening, he panicked and changed the subject, sending Stolas a picture of a fanny pack he saw on the way home from work with “Bitch” scrawled on it in garish plastic gemstones.

New company uniform? I think it would go with my outfit

Stolas was slow to answer, but he did within the hour. Blitzø didn’t try to flirt with him again, worried it would drive Stolas away for some reason. The concern was growing stronger in Blitzø’s gut. As the next full moon drew closer and closer, he found himself looking forward to their meeting. He wanted to see Stolas, to check up on him and see for himself if he was looking healthier than he did on the news a month ago.

He also missed him. This was the longest they’d been apart since they met, and the texts alone weren’t enough.

He wanted to try to be braver in person. He wanted to see Stolas’s face, feel those forbidden emotions bubble up in his chest and then not push them down, to just let them run through him. He wouldn’t tell Stolas of course, but he thought it might be nice to finally enjoy the feeling of being in love. No pressure, no expectations, just the butterflies fluttering through him and appreciating the fact that he fell in love again.

It was a nice feeling, even if it stung like a bitch. He knew it couldn’t go anywhere, but he was slowly coming to accept that. Might as well enjoy it while he was in it. And then try to let go when Stolas eventually decides to move on.

Damn, it felt nice to not twist himself into knots about this shit anymore. Millie was telling him to be more honest, and fuck he was trying. It actually felt kind of nice to not push his attraction down every second of the day. He didn’t think he could be honest with Stolas yet, but maybe he could be with himself. Even if it went against all his instincts.

Millie was always quick to remind him that the actual goal was to be honest with Stolas too. But he was working up to it, damn it. This was a lifetime habit of keeping people at a distance he was trying to break here!

The day of the full moon finally dawned, and Blitzø ate his breakfast wondering what they’d get up to that night. Stolas had two whole months to think up something new for them to do. That horny bird was always full of crazy ideas in the bedroom, Blitzø feeling the heat of arousal building in his body just thinking about him. There was something electric in the air that morning. Perhaps it came from going two months without getting laid or maybe it was simply that Blitzø was starting to enjoy the attraction he’d always felt.

Either way, his skin was tingling and his heart was bursting. Hopefully Stolas was feeling just as excited.

But then a text from the actual demon came through not a few minutes later, and it was like cold water lashing Blitzø to the core.

I’m sorry, Blitz, but I’m feeling under the weather again this month. Would you kindly drop the book off with the doorman again? I would appreciate it.

Blitzø was quick to text back, asking him if he was sick again, and Stolas gave the same vague shit as before. Not to worry, merely a head cold, etc.

Only this time, Blitzø couldn’t stop thinking about it. He went through his day distracted and depressed, heart aching all over again. There wasn’t a layer of panic like the last time Stolas cancelled, but instead he was hazy with confusion and disappointment and worry.

What had happened? Shit was totally civil between them all month. Blitzø had thought they were even bonding. Why were Stolas’s feathers all in a twist? Did he not want to sleep with him anymore? He should just say so if that was true. Why not demand the book back for good, since he clearly wasn’t getting anything out of their arrangement anymore?

Questions upon questions were tumbling around in Blitzø's poor head. His breakfast was threatening to make a return trip.

The old self-doubt was roiling in his gut, keeping him nauseous and distracted from his job. A rogue shot from an armed target they were chasing through the fields in the human world would’ve gone straight through his stomach if Moxxie and Millie weren’t watching Blitzø so closely.

Moxx tackled him out of the way while Mills finally pounced on the human and twisted his head clean off. There was a ringing in his ears as Moxxie lectured him on paying attention, how he could’ve gotten himself killed. Millie approached the pair still on the ground, watching Blitzø helplessly, the decapitated head in one hand and dragging the body behind her with the other.

The ringing finally stopped, and Blitzø blurted out, “This is ridiculous. I’m gonna get myself fucking killed.”

This, of course, set Moxxie off on another tangent, but Blitzø was lost in his own head again, thinking furiously.

He can’t keep worrying about this, constantly trying to guess what Stolas was thinking. Speaking of which, fuck Stolas for always being so hot and cold, for playing with his poor hopeful heart. He had to know he was driving Blitzø up the wall at this point.

I gotta go over there, Blitzø finally decided, feeling the weight of the inevitable decision trying to crush him. I need to find out once and for fucking all how he feels. I’m sick of this “does he, doesn’t he” bullshit. Christ on a stick, I’m not a blushing schoolgirl. I know it’s not gonna be nice, but… I gotta know. Even if he laughs in my face.

A clean break.

Blitzø slowly raised his gaze to meet Millie’s over Moxxie’s shoulder, still ranting right in front of him. He gave her a grim nod, and she gazed sadly at him, nodding back with a small smile of encouragement.

He wouldn’t be the same person after tonight, they both knew that, but he suddenly felt like there was no other choice. It would hurt real bad, but sometimes you had to break a bone again to set things right and start to heal.

He placed his hand over his bleeding heart. Once more into the breach.

The Goetia mansion was quiet that night, somehow as serene as ever in the middle of the bustling city. Blitzø's hands and feet remembered the familiar climb up to the prince’s balcony, leaving his mind free to try to push back his nerves and keep putting one hand in front of the other. Loona had even given him a hug before he went out that evening, somehow knowing he needed it without him saying a word. He’d melted into it, soaked the comfort into his bones, before giving her a shaky smile and heading out the door.

He could count on one hand the number of times Loona hugged him unprompted. Hopefully she knew how much this one helped.

His head finally rose above the balcony, glowing eyes peering through the stained glass doors into the bedroom. He hadn’t texted Stolas he was coming.

It only took a moment for him to find the prince, lounging on a sofa with a book in his hands. Blitzø could tell even from a distance, though, that his eyes were a thousand miles away. He looked even more ragged and worn than he had on the news over a month ago, his feathers so messy, though not in the sexy way, and the bags carved deep under his dim red eyes.

As he climbed over the railing onto solid ground, Blitzø was struck dumb by just how… sad Stolas looked. Honestly, it reminded him of how he was some nights, when the longing was keeping him awake and his eyes would catch sight of his haunted expression in the bathroom mirror.

Blitzø thought he also saw some dried tear tracks curving down Stolas’s face. Why was he upset? Because people knew he was sleeping with an imp now? Blitzø couldn’t bring himself to feel angry at the thought, though, not when he was faced with Stolas’s broken expression and slumped posture, like his heart weighed ten tons.

Was he wrong all along? Could Stolas be feeling the same way? Maybe…?

Blitzø took a deep breath and reminded himself quietly, “A clean break.”

But… maybe?

With a shaking fist, he knocked gently on the glass. Stolas’s eyes flew up from his book towards him, wide and disbelieving. Blitzø gave him a sheepish wave.

As Stolas hurriedly scrambled up from his seat towards the glass door, he tried to steel himself for what was sure to be a night of heartbreak. No going back now. When Stolas was a few steps away from the door, he suddenly slowed, like he thought he might scare Blitzø off with any sudden movements.

Good luck with that, asshole, Blitzø thought fondly as Stolas gently opened the door. Not getting rid of me that easily.

They stared at each other for a moment, all the words left unsaid hanging over them like stars in the sky.

“What are you doing here?” Stolas finally asked quietly, hand gripping tightly to the door.

Blitzø shot him a million watt smile. “Came to see how you were doing. You didn’t sound too great in your texts.”

Stolas’s expression immediately shuttered. He turned away, heading back into the room. “I’m perfectly fine, don’t you worry about me.” He stopped near the bedpost, facing firmly away from the imp hesitating on the balcony. “Go home, Blitz. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than check up on me.”

Blitzø could recognize a dismissal when he heard one, but his feet stayed firmly planted. He’d noticed a bit of hope in Stolas’s expression before he opened his big mouth. That hope drew him up short. Did Stolas want to talk? Was he like Blitzø and just didn’t know how to do it?

Millie’s voice replayed in Blitzø’s head. They needed to have an honest conversation, to tell each other the truth of what they were feeling, to clear the air, or else they’d just stay in limbo forever. And Blitzø had already decided that limbo sucked ass, and he wanted nothing to do with it anymore.

He sighed and stepped into the room, letting the door click quietly shut behind him.

What did he have to lose? He could be honest, just this once. For both their sakes.