Chapter Text
Lucifer entered the doomed building where he was sentenced to work in, cursing under his breath. Gosh, he hated Mondays! This one particularly. Every single thing that could go awry did, in fact, go awry. His alarm clock didn’t ring, hence he rushed to get ready, forgot half his notes, spilled coffee on his shirt and, as a result of it all, was late to his own class. On top of that, he found his students causing mayhem in the auditorium when he arrived. The overwhelmed professor struggled for a moment to have them calming down, before entirely giving up – accepting the idea of a solitary monologue. Lovely ... At least he was getting fucking paid. Some of them mocked him for his stained clothes. He tried his best to ignore it, push through and rambled about Kant’s categoric imperative for the remaining hour – himself sounding even more uninterested by his very own lecture than the young adults facing him. Said young adults who had woken up this early in the morning to witness the old prick that he was mumbling very eloquent nonsense about some long dead guy and his obscure theories. Now, that was immoral! Whoever invented Monday mornings sure hadn’t read Kant.
To worsen his misery, he was halfway to his office when he heard an oh-too-familiar sound in the distance – the click of a cane accompanying footsteps. Of course ... Of course he’d have to run into him, of all people ! He grit his teeth before raising his eyes towards the tall, sharp-looking man facing him.
– Professor Hartfelt ... groaned Lucifer.
– Greetings, Professor Morningstar! Today is one of those days where you fail to live up to your patronym, I see ...
– Quit it, Alastor. What do you want?
– Only pointing out the importance of showing our student the greatest example of them precision, neatness and irreproachability ... don’t you agree?
Lucifer tried really hard not to roll up his eyes, as Alastor’s grin sharpened. Of course, Lucifer was – that day especially – the exact opposite. And that insufferable prick had to highlight it in the most contemptuous way.
– I suppose ... mumbled Lucifer in return.
Of course, Alastor himself was the epitome of charm, the incarnation of perfection itself. Somehow, the man was always poised, his stance always controlled. His face was the definition of handsome – brown skin, lustrous curls, sharp glance and delicate traits that made him look like some kind of Greek demigod. His tall stature was as elegant, his attitude as polite as it could possibly be. It was as if mistakes were only an abstract concept to him, as he never seemed to take even the slightest misstep. His outfit was as impeccable as always: tight pants, dark turtleneck pullover underneath a burgundy veston – gold old fashioned pocket watch slightly visible – underneath a long black coat that has most likely never been covered by any grain of dust. Beneath his ovale golden glasses, his brown irises seemed impenetrable, yet one single stare would pierce one’s soul. With his long eyelashes, his eyes looked like a deer’s ... Yet one was not to be mistaken, as Alastor was nothing close to a prey. But the most noticeable was his smile: somehow, his lips were always stretched in that unsettling smirk, making him even more unreadable and mysterious as he already was. Really, Alastor Hartfelt had unprecedented prestance and charisma – and he was very aware of it, which made him even more annoying.
He was a true enigma to the eyes of all, Lucifer’s especially. Not like he wanted to figure him out anyways, he thought to himself. Alastor was a pest one had better interest staying as far away from as possible.
– More seriously, pursued the pest in question, I read your last paper on Hobbes’ Leviathan. You seem still as convinced that his theories apply to the real world ... how sweet.
– Humans are fundamentally cruel, it’s a fact. I thought you of all people would understand... – How rude... and pessimistic. – You’re the one to talk – you made your thesis on goddamn Rousseau! You keep trying to prove – quite lamely – that civilisation is inherently corrupt, and you call me pessimistic?
– Oh, don’t tell me society’s not the realm of all inequalities.
– Well, I think it would be very much worse without a society at all.
– You bet? – As if you’d have a chance in Hobbes’ state of nature ... muttered Lucifer, waving at his opponent’s crooked leg.
Alastor squinted without a word, suddenly taken aback. That had been a very low blow ...
– You’d be surprised, he venomously whispered – smile as sharp as ever. Now, if you’ll excuse me... Unlike you, professor, some people actually have work to do.
– Hey!
Lucifer wanted to reply, but Alastor was already far away. The blond man sighed. He had gone too far with his words, he knew it. What was he thinking? The words had escaped his mouth before he could even hold them back. That happened to him – quite often, in fact. Should he apologize? It’s not as if himself and Alastor were friends. In fact, that was quite the opposite – they even had the habit of trashing each other’s theories through interposed academic papers – their universitary beef bringing much delight to their students, for sure. Both men were used to arguing with each other – yet this time, Lucifer had clearly stepped out of line. Attacking the poor man on his infirmity, seriously? Even him was more ashamed of himself than usual, that was to say ...
On the other hand, Alastor had really been a real– No, better not say anything; Alastor, of all people, did not deserve his sympathy. Shaking his head, Lucifer retreated inside his own office. Definitely, today was not being a good day.
~
That bloody old prick! As if Lucifer himself would have some chance in Hobbes’ state of nature, really ... He didn’t even have the will to do his work properly! Soon, he’d be academically finished, Alastor knew it. It was not a secret that Lucifer Morningstar was a depressed former brilliant mind now reduced to the shadow of himself, surviving on the remains of his past glory! He was on the descent, everyone agreed upon that – and when he would eventually snap out for good, then Alastor would delightfully take his position as head of the department.
He tightened his grip on his cane as he hurriedly walked away. Said cane that contained a hidden blade... Blade that could bring victory over anyone. Lucifer knew nothing about him, nothing about his fighting skills. Nothing of the trail of blood he left behind him, the bodies he’d buried, the challenges he had to overcome. Not that he ever wanted to... He just had to find a way out of misery; murder had been his escape of choice. Maybe he did enjoy it a little, though ...
Nevertheless, things were different now. Last time, he nearly lost his life. If only there was a way to stop... But he was bound by a contract he couldn’t break, at least before he filled his incommensurable debt. One day he would, though... One day, he’d unclip his wings.
For now, he was left to do others’ dirty job.
On top of his assassination related side profession, he had two articles to write, one monograph to finish and endless books to read, so he better keep himself busy. He didn’t have the time to worry about some pathetic annoying idiot... no matter how irritating said idiot might be.
Really, Lucifer could have been exceptional, were he not to waste his talent to sulk and wallow in self pity – mourning the departure of his ex-wife, which was, what, eight years ago? While the world keeps moving around him, professor Morningstar stayed stuck in the past. What a silly idea though, to marry actress and pop star Lilith... obviously she would leave, she was too good for a dork like him! She was the type to never stay long in the same place, and Lucifer... well, he liked his comfort, for sure. It didn’t take Alastor very long to read the guy. Proud and petty, yet disillusioned and miserable, Morningstar had long lost his spark. Yet messing with him was quite entertaining, for sure... until now, at least.
Of course, Alastor would never admit he had been offended, let alone hurt, by Lucifer’s comment. Ha! That moron couldn’t do anything against him, couldn’t reach him, none of his meaningless words ever hit their target, ever. Why then did he feel his heart twitch at his last comment?
A wave of pain radiated through his bad leg; he had to stop for a moment to collect himself before resuming his way. It happened, sometimes... Alastor hated it, he hated his own weakness, he hated being reduced to this broken... useless...
Better not think about it; he was still the most powerful assassin this Earth had ever known. With no regard for his own suffering, he carried on walking, eventually reaching his office before closing the door and collapsing on his chair. Finally...
Bloody hell. It hadn’t even been two months since his return, and Alastor was already exhausted. He highly struggled to get used to his new condition, he was crumbling under work, he barely had time to rest, and to arrange nothing, he got used to skipping meals to save money in the hope of filling his debt faster. Gosh, he was starving! He was tired. He wanted to feast like never before, he wanted to sleep for eternity, he wanted to live a little for once... but he couldn’t. Freedom was a luxury he couldn’t afford. With a sigh, he opened a book – the first one of a sky-scraping pile – and started his work.
~
– I’m home! yelled Lucifer as he entered his luxurious house, slamming the door behind him.
Usually, he lived alone, but his daughter Charlie was staying at his place for the week. His only pride and joy in this cruel world...
– Daaad!
She rushed towards him and hugged him, her long blond hair flowing behind her as she twirled.
– Oh my gosh you will not believe me! she started yapping before Lucifer even had the time to take off his shoes. I had the most awesomest wonderfullest day – did I already mentioned that...
He carefully listened to her excited ramble, not minding the terrible grammar. Her cheerfulness was a gift to mankind – and never missed to warm his scorched heart. Charlie had always been like this, ever since she was a child: overenthusiastic, deeply empathetic and kind, seeing the good in everyone... No wonder she worked as a social worker now, attempting to rehabilitate the worst criminals... Sometimes, Lucifer wished she did a safer, less exhausting job. Anything... But she was so passionate, and besides, it was her choice. Who would he be to dictate her which path to follow? In fact, Lucifer had never been able to refuse her anything, and ever since her mom left, the not-so-little-anymore young lady was spoilt like an actual princess. Especially since he felt the need to overcompensate for Lilith’ departure... Anything so that his precious little girl would not feel as sad and abandoned as himself.
– By the way, I already made dinner, you don’t have to worry! she exclaimed. You mind if Vags comes a little bit later?
– Sure, as you want sweetie.
Vaggi – Charlie’s girlfriend – was an ex thief and hacker now reconverted into an IT-manager whom his daughter had met during a mission. She had actually helped her after she got out of prison, as part of her work... except they both fell in love in the process. Lucifer had been a bit reticent at first, firstly because of Vaggi’s troubled past, secondly because she was, well, very punk ... He used to fear she might be a bad influence to his sweet little angel. But as soon as he saw them together, his doubts quickly withered. His daughter-in-law was, in fact, very sweet, and besides, she was perfect for Charlie. Assertive and down-to-earth, she was able to ground the overemotional all-over-the-place cinnamon roll of a young woman he had for a daughter. Meanwhile Charlie brought Vaggi the sweetness she had never known ... Coming from an abusive family, Vaggi had never really been cared for before meeting her girlfriend. And now, she was happier than ever... She was part of the family now; Lucifer had practically adopted her.
– By the way, I forgot to ask – how was your day? questioned Charlie with a hum.
– Oh, very plain, as usual... mumbled her dad. Oh! I ran into Alastor a bit earlier–
– That fucker?
– Charlie, language!
– What? You hate him.
– Still! It’s no reason to be discourteous ...
– Whatever. Did he say anything?
– Oh, the usual. I was a bit mean, I feel kinda bad...
– He probs deserved it.
– Nah... not this time. Actually, I’m a bit worried about him. You know, since his accident... Lucifer stopped, grimaced.
What else could he say? Alastor hadn’t always limped like he now does. In fact, he used to be pretty athletic before – not that he ever mentioned doing any sport, but Lucifer could guess it by the way he moved. Alastor was always graceful, always precise in his movement – every breath, every gesture he made was calculated, intentional. He would run up the stairs without breaking a sweat – there were five fucking floors! – when Lucifer would be completely out of breath in comparison. And that used to annoy him so, so much... Yet, about a year ago, Alastor disappeared for an entire semester. No one knew what happened – only that he took a sick leave for an extended period of time. Rumors circulated, of course. Burn out? Incurable disease? Familial issue? However, when he returned with a messed up leg and twice more rage hidden behind his everlasting smile, the car accident hypothesis became the most popular. Of course, Alastor acted as if nothing happened, brushing off questions with feigned indifference while tackling twice as much work as he used to, as an attempt to make up for the time lost. However, Lucifer could see through his bullshit – the bags under his eyes, his teeth gritted in pain as he walked. Behind the mask of arrogance, Alastor was not okay – and no one seemed to notice. At least, no one except him. And well, they were not exactly friends...
In fact, Lucifer still detested him with burning passion. Some unspeakable side of him even took some morbid satisfaction in seeing his flawless rival struggle for once, probably for the first time in his life. Why then was he concerned about that prick’s well being? It did not make any sense. Either way, he had given the guy more thought than he deserved, already. Now, it was time to focus on Charlie and her wonderful girlfriend – who was just now ringing on the door.
Forcing a smile, he sat with his girls on the kitchen table, complimenting his daughter on her improving cooking skills. The evening went smoothly – typical movie night with laughter and plenty of snacks. This time, it was his turn to choose – he picked Pixar’s Migration, obviously, because, ducks involved. It was hard to explain why the grown man was so obsessed with ducks – maybe it was their ability to fit in anywhere, whether in water, ground or sky. Maybe it was for their impermeable feathers, letting them slide unscathed through life as if nothing could get through them. Lucifer could do none of that. With a sigh, he hugged his duck plushie while the girls were debating over some random celebrity gossip. This life was pain, yes, but at this moment, Lucifer did not feel so bad.
~
Alastor was absolutely suffering. When he got home to his miserable apartment, night had fallen already. In fact, it was past midnight – he had gotten carried away in his work again. Not that he had much else to do, actually...
Humming quietly, he turned up his old radio, which played an ancient jazzy tune. He was the old-fashioned kind of guy. Alastor was feeling some unexplainable attachment towards objects of another time – maybe because they were a bit scorned, a bit out of place, yet still resistant and functional. A little bit like himself... Objects that had lived were objects that had a story. Besides, they were often cheaper... and any money he could save was seconds of freedom he was buying himself for later. Furthermore, the man hated technology with passion. Not that he was terrible at using it, though... maybe a little. But due to his tiny little murderous activities, he needed to remain as untraceable as possible. Thus, he had a landline phone, a dying computer and was otherwise reachable by mail and letter only. Not that he needed more anyway – he did not have any friends, did not have the time for more, did not even want more. Friendship was just an illusion – that’s a lesson he had learned the hard way. All this to say, he was utterly disconnected from all of this online realm the youth was constantly babbling about. He was not antique, he was vintage. Radio was his favorite medium – he did not own a TV, not only because he considered it to be vain noise, but also because it reminded him of a certain someone from his past he’d rather forget.
With a sigh, he sat on a kitchen chair. His home was small, practical yet cosy – two wooden chairs and a small round table, one bed for one person – Alastor didn’t do dating, thank you very much – a kitchenette and a bathroom, all of it wrapped in less than sixteen square meters. He didn’t need more. Singing along the radio, he made himself a plate of plain pasta. If his students knew their professor was living more humbly than some of them, oh sure that would be... incongruous for least. Yet why would he complain? He had a roof above himself, and food to eat. Today had been horrendous for sure, yet now that he was safe in his lair, his mood was
starting to improve a little, eventually. That is, before he noticed the crimson rose left on the window sill.
With a deep, deep, deep sigh, he took it and read the note attached to the flower.
Alastor would not sleep tonight.