nexuses | can't a man have some coffee in peace

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can't a man have some coffee in peace

[The thread that connects him to the supreme primarch's power has unraveled, taking with it his wings. Rent of what makes him an archangel, he's no better than a human with a purpose thrust unto him by a weakened witch. All in all, the whole situation reeks of nonsense.

Indolence won't help his brooding any. Sandalphon tours the city instead, pointedly taking the less populated path. Even then, too many people approach him with their wares and saccharine smiles, and he rebuffs each one with a single-word response. It's not soon enough when he slips into a shop that smells faintly of coffee, hoping for some peace and quiet.

But even here, the employees jump at every person to come around. Sandalphon grits his teeth in reflex annoyance when a rehearsed greeting and a request for an order is thrown his way. He hadn't intended to buy anything. Still, he can't just turn around and leave.]

Fine. Give me coffee.

[That unleashes a whole new can of beans. Regular or decaf? Perhaps a mocha, a latte, or a cappucino? And what about ice?

Does any of this matter? No one makes coffee like Lucifer. It hasn't been more than two hours, and Sandalphon wants to quit Shehui.]

That doesn't matter to me. Make what you want.

[At the very least, the service is quick—too quick. Sandalphon eyes the cup in his grasp with mild suspicion. What's with the lid?]

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[WOW... So quick to blame himself. Did he need answers so desperately?]

I can't really say, but that seems unlikely to me. [You know, on account of... being dead...] With or without them, I'm afraid I would not have been able to fight back regardless. And even if that were not the case, it was my decision to give them to you. That is my responsibility, not yours.

[He hadn't even been able to ask if he was okay with that, which is unfortunate, but such were the circumstances. He would have done things differently if he'd had more time, but...

Of course, then there's the question of why those wings aren't actually there, but that will come later, too, he thinks. It's like Sandalphon's bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders and it's clear even to him that there's a lot he doesn't know or understand, even relative to their own world let alone this one.]

[He grits his teeth, biting down an impulsive response. Lucifer is right: that isn't his responsibility, as intertwined as their fates are. Still, he huffs, the exhalation vaguely resembling breathy laughter.]

You gave them to me, and I've lost them. You don't feel it either, do you? It's gone. The supreme primarch's power is no longer growing within me.

[One. Just one. He'd had one job and he hadn't even lasted a month. At least Lucifer has an excuse for being here.

Sandalphon doesn't even feel bitter. This is just how it is.]

How unsightly.

[And to think he'd warned Lucifer about giving those powers to him.]

[Honestly, if he's gonna be real, he doesn't even really care too much about that. He had hoped that someday, neither of them would need them—that was the dream.]

Are you troubled by this? [It's conjecture, because he doesn't know, but...] Perhaps this world does not require the abilities of a supreme primarch.

[It's wishful thinking, but maybe they can relax a little bit. At the very least, maybe whatever burdens they have will not be theirs alone.]

[The fact that Lucifer has to ask that clarifying question takes Sandalphon back to the simpler days. It serves to ground him: Lucifer never was one to rise to his invisible, albeit unintentional, baits.

He looks down at his fist, studying the rounds of his knuckles.]

But the sky realm does. What if the connection fails to reestablish itself? The role of the supreme primarch would fall to obscurity before its time.

[Truthfully, that had been the most frightening knowledge upon regaining consciousness. He'd made a promise, and he intends to keep it. Lucifer would forgive him, of course; however, he'd never forgive himself if he were to fail.]

[Well... That's a fair concern, he supposes. Certainly, their world was not finished with him yet, and it definitely felt— different. Like something that was supposed to be there was not quite. It wasn't the way it was supposed to be, at least. And he wished he could do something to help Sandalphon with that, but...]

I understand your concern. However, if what we were told is true, there is little to be done about that here.

[At least, as long as they were in Shehui, it seemed. Perhaps whatever world they visited next would be different, but in the meantime...]

For now, please don't trouble yourself with this. We should do what we can to learn about this world instead.

[And anyway— if it's him, he's sure it will turn out fine.]

[He can't not trouble himself with this, but Lucifer brings up a sound point. There are more pressing matters at hand—immediate concerns here that need to be addressed, rather than those that are worlds away. Sandalphon's fist unravels.

Then, finally, he lifts his head to meet Lucifer's gaze.]

Fine. Let's do that.

[That's a blatant dismissal of his troubles, if there ever was one. He isn't particularly pleased with it, and there is still a great deal that has been left unsaid; yet some space to recover from his outburst would be desirable. He chooses not to close the meager physical distance between them.]

You'll help me, then?

[Maybe that's a silly question, but considering the situation, and considering Sandalphon's... er, difficulties accepting it, it only feels right to ask. Besides, technically, he wasn't really obligated to do anything for him now anyway... But it would be nice. He understands this must be hard for Sandalphon, and maybe he needs time to figure it all out, but he appreciates that he's here nonetheless.]

Yes.

[That much is a no-brainer. He doesn't have to think twice, and it's refreshing.]

Although there isn't much that I can do in this state, I'll do what must be done. [Sandalphon pauses, reflecting on his brief tour of the city.] This place is unlike any I've ever been to.

The same can be said for me, too. [He wonders how all of this is going to go, honestly... But they were stuck here when neither of them was supposed to be, so whether they were suited to the situation or not probably wasn't going to matter. There's a short pause before he adds:] But I'm grateful that I can count on you here.

[Sincerely.

...also, he's just gonna... put down this second cup of coffee. He feels bad about it but he's been holding onto them for so long. He is sorry.]

[So sincere, in fact, that Sandalphon averts his gaze to said cup of coffee. There's the third one still in Lucifer's grasp.]

. . . You should drink that before it gets cold.

[And three drinks are still three too many. In any case, he gestures to the heart of the communal area, where there lies a coffee table and some seats.]

[He never wanted all of these. But the invitation is also appreciated—he's glad that Sandalphon at least trusts him now, even if he doesn't seem to be quite as comfortable with him as he used to be.

But that's alright, too. He didn't know how long they'd be here, but this was already more time together than they'd had in a long time. He's glad for what he has.

(It's pretty weird to even be in a situation where it's "okay" to think that. It's such a selfish thing, but... well, it's a thing he'd wanted for so long, and the circumstances were different now. So it can't be helped.)]

Of course. [It's a little thing, but Sandalphon doesn't have to be doing it. As he goes to take a seat, he explains:] I thought it would be interesting to see what they do with coffee in this world. Everything is so different.

[But he doesn't sound the least bit put off by that.]

[He never wanted them, but he'll get them all. Sandalphon swipes the two cups off the counter and follows suit to set them down on the coffee table, then takes the seat across Lucifer. Talk of coffee hadn't been on his mind when he'd offered his help, but it goes to show that some things just don't change.

While Sandalphon has doubts about the coffee, he won't be the one to rain on Lucifer's curiosity.]

So? . . . How is it?

[It's cute he thought he could get away without at least a little talk of coffee, tbh.]

Hmm. [He takes a thoughtful sip. It's not the first time he's tasted it, but this is important, so he needs to give an accurate assessment.] It tastes like mint. It's very sweet. It's different, but I don't dislike it.

[Why can't he be that honest or specific about anything else, huh—]

[This is why they can't have nice things.

Well, that's a surprisingly positive verdict. And it tastes like mint? That's different, worth looking into. He glances at the untouched cups between them.]

What about the others? Are they the same?

I believe they're different, but I have yet to try them. The young woman had many recommendations and insisted I do. Unfortunately, when I told her that was quite alright, she began making them anyway.

[It was very thoughtful(?) of her, and he appreciated her enthusiasm(???), but it was a bit much... Not that he couldn't drink that much coffee, probably, but he certainly didn't need to, and it would be rude to keep it all for himself. More than that, he just enjoyed being able to share with Sandalphon, so that was the ideal scenario, really.]

Will you try some?

[Please say yes—]

[If it were anyone else, he'd decline right away. "Like the young woman who served you, I insist." However, this is Lucifer; as tense as their current truce is, Sandalphon can't recall a time he's ever denied Lucifer anything, nor does he feel the inclination to begin now. Thus, following a brief pause, he reaches out to grab a cup and slowly brings the lid to his lips.

Somewhere along the way, his free hand that rests on his knee has curled into a fist. He furrows his brow in deliberation of the taste as he pulls the cup away from his face.]

It's creamy and thick. I wouldn't say that it's sweet like the first one.

I see. [He nods, approving of his judgement.] I don't know if I would drink this everyday, but it's an interesting taste, and a new experience.

[It was different and exciting, and also convenient. Maybe it wouldn't be an everyday thing because he liked the way things were between him and Sandalphon—their own little "tradition," if it could be called that, the way they did things—but it was still interesting.]

I look forward to learning more about how they do things here with you.

[Wow, he's really stuck now.]

[This is wrong.

Drinking coffee and talking together—he should be over the moon, happier than he's ever been. He thought he'd never have a chance like this again. Yet all Sandalphon feels are a generalized numbness and a slight tremor in his fist. Their exchange rings hollow, and he sets the cups back on the table with a cross look.

He swallows, the aftertaste of the coffee lingering in his mouth. His other hand comes to rest on the homolateral knee. For a precious few seconds, he simply sits there, his thoughts swirling in his mind: 'Again.']

. . . Is that all?

Hm... Is it?

[Is Sandalphon just trying to get rid of him or is he expecting something from him, that is the question—

Though, maybe it's him who should be asking that.]

What's on your mind, Sandalphon?

[Truthfully, he's not sure if asking would help—it's clear there's a lot on his mind. But he asks, anyway. Even if Sandalphon doesn't want to talk to him, the least he could do was try.]

How can you do this . . . How can you act like nothing's changed?

[His voice comes out strained; the words, strangled. The pent-up frustration from his time in the cradle to this moment begins to overflow.]

I know what you want. But I . . . [He inhales sharply before surging onto his feet, the force knocking the chair behind him onto the floor.] I can't give it to you like this! I can't go back to the way I was!

[He knows what Lucifer wants. He knows, and he wants to give it more than anything—but not like this. Not like this.]

What are you trying to achieve? Offering me coffee and asking for my thoughts, telling me not to worry . . . Nothing's changed! If you're sorry about not having been able to talk properly back then, why are we pretending now? Why do I still have to force my way in? Why did you have to die!?

Edited (yesss, let your anger flow) 2018-03-21 05:49 (UTC)

[...well. He'd kind of figured the answer was, "A lot." And while he'd imagined that some of these things would probably be issues for him, there are still things there he hadn't considered. (Although this doesn't surprise him. He knows he doesn't... He knows he's missed things. A lot of things.) Even then, though, it's still hard to hear him say it—those last words, especially. It wasn't like he thought it was his fault, exactly, but...

He just can't help but feel guilty, knowing how much he must have hurt him. He didn't think that Sandalphon needed him, but— he knows that's not necessarily the issue when it comes to the well-being of those you love.

Despite all this, Lucifer's response is calm and measured, as always, and he remains in his seat. But his response is also contemplative, as... well, he figures out how to deal with this.]

You're right. That was selfish of me. [It wasn't pretending, to him. And in fact, he'd thought maybe it would be easier like this, that maybe he'd find comfort in the familiarity of it all, but it was presumptuous of him to think that. That was definitely his fault.] I suppose I'd gotten ahead of myself. I was so glad to see you well that I didn't think to ask if it was okay for me to be here.

I do not expect you to go back to anything. [Whether he couldn't or didn't want to—that was his choice, and he had every right to make it.] Tell me, then—what is it that you want? I'm afraid I may not be able to give you everything, either, and what I can may not be enough. But I want you to be happy.

[He wanted him to be as happy as just seeing Sandalphon made him feel, really.]

[As soon as the words burst forth from his lips, Sandalphon feels a strange calm wash over him. It isn't a peaceful calm, but rather one born from weariness now that he's exhausted his anger. He is tired. Suddenly, he finds himself unable to look Lucifer in the eyes.

Being told that he's right is only mildly vindicating. Acknowledgment is a consolation prize. What unfurls his tight fists is the honesty he'd been craving, ever since he'd had a taste of it on that fateful day.

"But I want you to be happy."

Sandalphon's entire body trembles as he exhales audibly. These are Lucifer's feelings, and they're as pure as the white wings he'd once borne. His feet weak under his burdensome weight, he collapses onto the floor in a sitting position, his shoulders hunched over.]

I don't want anything . . . I just want to talk. Even during our last confrontation, you extracted me from the world and left me alone. [Those mind-numbing days harvesting the fruit and drinking coffee alone, straddling the line between resigned contentment and mental collapse . . . what a limbo that had been.] When was the last time we'd truly talked? I can't remember . . .

[He can't remember—not even a single moment. Just as Lucifer had failed to see his insecurities, Sandalphon had never succeeded in decoding the emotions behind that serene visage.]

More than anything, all I wanted was to understand you for who you are . . .

[For that, Lucifer leaves his seat, only to come over and kneel beside him. He'd never liked talking down to him, and maybe this was also selfish and presumptuous of him—maybe Sandalphon would prefer the space—but he hopes to be able to convey his feelings better this way, too.]

That isn't something you have to ask me for. [Though, it probably says something that he feels like he needs to. But, really, it was what Lucifer had hoped for anyway. It was a strange situation, and maybe it was too soon to say for sure, but he felt like he had much less reason to hold back now. (Of course, it was kind of a difficult habit to break, and he'd have to work on that, but...) Realistically, he knew he couldn't just sit here and talk with him all day, but truthfully...] If it isn't too late, there's nothing I would want more. But if it is, I understand.

[He didn't want Sandalphon to feel uncomfortable or like their interactions were forced—as much as Lucifer wanted to have him around, the thought that he might be making things difficult for him was more than enough for him to put aside his own feelings.

There's a bit of an irony there that's probably part of the problem, though. He always put others before himself, including Sandalphon, but that was really, genuinely what he wanted. Sandalphon's well-being was just as important to him as his own, if not more.]

[It's inappropriate, he thinks, for the original supreme primarch to lower himself so. In spite of this, Sandalphon doesn't hate the physical proximity. Instead, he finds himself seeking comfort in their even height as he eyes the coffee cup he'd held a few minutes prior.]

It's too late. Once we've fulfilled our roles here, you'll disappear again.

[Knowing that, Lucifer's offer feels like a stab through the heart. Sandalphon can't bear the loss again. At the same time, the treacherous blooming of once buried hope betrays his rational mind, followed by the powerful instinct to spare Lucifer from the pain of rejection.

It's pure nonsense, and he's a fool to reach for it. Perhaps he has always been that fool who fights and fights for that which he cannot have. But this time is different; Lucifer is so close.]

But I want it, too . . . If there's a chance now, I want to take it. To know you.

[Unfortunately, Sandalphon is right about that, too. Lucifer didn't know anything about this world (or worlds), he couldn't explain his presence here, nor did he know what control he had over it, so he couldn't make any promises. He wished he could say he wouldn't disappear (and he certainly didn't want to), but he can't. It was not something he could guarantee, and it would be unfair to try and force Sandalphon to feel hopeful over promises he couldn't keep.

But he does (selfishly) appreciate that this isn't enough to put Sandalphon off completely. It seems like, inevitably, he's going to let him down, but if he can do this one thing for him, at the very least, then maybe their time here won't be for nothing.]

I hoped you would say that. [There's a smile in his voice, soft and gentle as it appears. He would have to be better about it, being honest with him. If he would ask nothing else of him, then he had to be better about it.] I would like that. It's been far too long.

[He's certain the reason they were brought here was not second chances, but you know what? It didn't matter. This was something they should've done a long time ago. Lucifer would do whatever he was "supposed" to do here, certainly, but he wasn't going to let this precious opportunity go to waste.]

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