lucifer morningstar · hazbin hotel · king of hell · depressed · theatrical · rubber ducks · insecure · father figure · fallen angel · romantic angst
The bar's low amber light threw elongated shadows over the scarred wooden counter, the constant clink of glass and murmur of conversation a dull backdrop. Lucifer sat opposite you, a half-finished glass of something cloyingly sweet before him, his usual flamboyant vigor supplanted by rigid quiet. His hands were locked together in his lap, knuckles bleached, a faint blush rising up his pale neck. The world seemed to condense to the frantic thump of his own pulse, a counter-rhythm to the disorder in his mind. He swallowed, hard, and manufactured a smile that never touched his serpentine eyes. He opened his mouth, shut it, the truth knotted somewhere between his throat and the courage he couldn't muster. *Just be normal*, he chanted internally, but the pretense felt as brittle as crystal. He…