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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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.]

[Sandalphon absorbs those tender words, his relief and hope washing over him amid the shame that prickles his skin. Now seems like a good time to admit his own failings, so he lifts his head and looks aside to meet Lucifer's eyes.]

I'm sorry. I didn't realize your true feelings until the end.

[The fault in how things turned out between them also lies in him. He swallows as the memory of cradling Lucifer in his arms flashes through his mind. Perhaps the cruelest fact is how Lucifer had died alone, cut off from his senses and uncertain of whether there was somebody there to receive his last words. Thinking about it, a fresh wave of sorrow permeates Sandalphon's being.

This time, he swears, he won't leave.]

It's alright. If my feelings were unclear, the fault lies with me.

[He had never meant to make it seem like he didn't care. (And, in fact, it had apparently been pretty obvious to everyone else that he had... a favorite.) But still, if Sandalphon couldn't understand that sooner, it meant he had failed in showing him just how much he meant to him, and that was careless of him. A lot of this was— careless of him. Even now, he was still failing him, and he would only continue to do so, it seemed.

Sandalphon deserved better, honestly.]

You've already been so patient with me.

[He wanted to be able to understand him better, too.]

[Patient?]

I wouldn't say that.

[Sandalphon is, too, guilty of being unclear with his feelings. In his haste to act on his pain, he'd thrown away every good (and bad) thing in his lowly life. Knowing this, Lucifer's assessment of him has always been too generous.

Looking away, he climbs onto his feet, then reaches for the third cup of coffee that has yet to be tasted.]

And the drink won't wait, either. You should try this one before it cools too much.

[To emphasize his suggestion, he lowers the cup toward Lucifer—a tentative offering, testing the waters now that they're aired their respective baggage.]

[The fact that Sandalphon offers the drink, he thinks, is indicative of the very patience he means. He didn't have to be doing any of this—he could choose to stay angry with him for not understanding, for not being more honest, for leaving him, for dying. Just a few of the many ways he'd failed him. But he doesn't.

Lucifer nods, accepting the cup and, following Sandalphon's example, stands up.]

You're right. Thank you, Sandalphon. [And he'll take a sip, though the next words aren't an assessment of the drink.] If I've not already troubled you enough for one afternoon, is alright if I stay a little while longer?

[They'd just gotten here, so maybe it wasn't necessary, but— he wanted to, if he would have him.]

[It's the calm after the storm. With anger draining from his frame, Sandalphon's face eases into one of relative, albeit still guarded, calm. He huffs as he bends down to right the fallen chair.]

I'm not having guests over, unless you count the roommates. [They've yet to exchange proper introductions. He'd caught a glimpse; otherwise, he knows nothing about them.] Stay as long as you'd please.

[And . . .

The word catches in his mind before it even reaches his throat. No, it's too soon and too late to beg forgiveness. Sandalphon won't do that.]

[It warms his heart to hear him say that. It feels distinctly different from before, and not just because Sandalphon's anger has faded. Now, it feels like he's truly welcome here, and not like he's just being tolerated out of some kind of obligation or necessity. He hopes that's the case for him, too.]

I should be careful not to impose upon your roommates as well. [Actually, that's probably for everyone's benefit. The last thing Sandalphon needed was for people to start fighting over him in his apartment... Awkward.] But until then, have you thought on how you might like to spend your time in this world?

[He could (and should) ask about what happened before all this, back in their own world, but it feels... cruel, especially after Sandalphon had made a lot of his feelings about recent incidents quite clear. He wanted to be able to help him, if he could, but maybe it would be better to come back to it later, he thinks. For now, he wanted Sandalphon to be able to rest a little, to feel at ease.]

[There's no way he'd kick Lucifer out, even if he doesn't have monopoly over the space. Being this close after an upsetting parting, Sandalphon doubts he has it in him to watch Lucifer walk out anytime soon.]

I was going to use this time to explore the city, but you saw for yourself what happened.

[After everything, he's had enough of the outside for today. Briefly, he wonders if Lucifer's admirers are still waiting on the other side of the door.]

Other than that, I've just arrived. My plans are in the provisional stage.

That had been my intention as well. However... [Well, Sandalphon had also seen how that had turned out, so there's no need to continue that train of thought. Instead:] If you like, perhaps we could explore together sometime.

[Now that was something they hadn't been able to do much of since... well, ever. But it sounds like it would be nice. Even just walking here together had been kind of nice, even if Sandalphon wasn't in the best of moods and it wasn't the best of circumstances.

(Maybe, definitely, he is biased. But he was just glad that he was there.)]

[He'd like that, certainly. But just as in the first statement, there's a potential problem to be had.]

Even if we were to go at a different time, how do you know that the same thing won't happen again?

[Sandalphon had never seen Lucifer interact with beings of the world so intimately before, and it had come as something of a shock in all the unexpected ways. The sheer number of people involved in the drama tells him that this won't be a one-off occurrence. How troublesome.

They don't know with whom they're dealing. Surely the original supreme primarch deserves a more respectful approach than this.]

[He frowns a little. If he's being honest, he already knows exactly how that would turn out. It's tough, because on one hand, he really doesn't want people to make a fuss over him like that, and avoiding going out was probably the best way to prevent that, but on the other, it feels a little too much like before—the restrictions, the obligations. Maybe it's worse, actually, given that whatever responsibilities he might have here would be nothing compared to his duty as supreme primarch.

Maybe he'd been a little too optimistic about the prospect of living a (somewhat) normal life.]

Unfortunately, I cannot disagree with you. But I would not order you to go in my stead.

[Lucifer felt like it was something he should do for himself... But that was much easier to do back home, when he didn't necessarily have to be somewhere to see things.]

Then don't. I can go out of my own free will.

[Even the prison of Pandaemonium hadn't stopped him from leaving. Sandalphon is not one too stay cooped up in one place for long.

He hums in faint amusement. How they fumble, without their powers. Adjusting will be more difficult for someone as important as Lucifer than it will be for him—and with no fault from Lucifer's end. Pity, that mortals seem so given to superficial impulses.]

But you can't stay inside forever. We'll have to figure something out.

Indeed. [Being able to relax for a change sounded nice, but if he was locked up all the time... Well, that didn't really count as relaxing, did it? It's a bit disappointing, but he relents, accepting the situation as it is for now.] Until we do, then, I hope you won't mind sharing with me what you see in this place.

[It was hardly the same thing. But being able to listen to Sandalphon talk about his experiences here... That sounded nice, at the very least. He wouldn't mind that at all.

Besides, it might even be a good opportunity to learn more about him this way, if he could "see" the world through Sandalphon's eyes.]

[As much as Sandalphon wouldn't mind being the original supreme primarch's eyes and ears, he hopes that they'll find that solution soon enough. Walking with Lucifer sounds much more appealing than doing the walking for them both.]

What do you want to know?

[While it's true that he hasn't been out for long, it's probably much longer than what Lucifer had managed—not to mention, the distractions. The denizens of Shehui are already disruptive enough to ordinary folk. Had Lucifer been outside for even ten minutes before he'd been swamped?]

[Hmm...]

I would like to know how this world differs from our own. [He wasn't sure how well Sandalphon would be able to compare the two, though... He wasn't sure how familiar Sandalphon even was with their own world, and he only had himself to blame for that.] Perhaps if you've noticed anything strange... Or anything that seems as though it may be important.

[That was all the technical stuff, the "business"-related matters. The next thing he adds, though subtle, is a little different.]

I want to know what you think of this place.

[Really, he just— wanted to hear him talk. He wanted to hear whatever he had to say, about anything, and he wanted to hear it before he lost the chance to.]

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