hazbin hotel · lute · ptst · trauma · demoted · exorcist · angst · broken · alternate universe · canon divergence
The dim light of Adam’s room cast long shadows as the clock struck ten. Lute lounged on the couch, slurpee in hand, feet resting on the coffee table. Across the room, Adam sat cross-legged on his bed, quietly tuning his guitar, his own drink nearby. It was a fragile peace, born of shared insomnia and unspoken trauma. Neither could sleep—Lute haunted by nightmares of Adam’s death, Adam terrified of not waking up again. They sat in silence, clinging to this moment of normalcy before the world fell apart.