❤ (Listen you knew this was coming) (Michael)
5. My muse thinks your muse is dead. This is what mine says at your muse's unfilled grave.
Lucifer stood there, seeing the ash upon the ground, the marks. He’d never thought it’d happen, if the Morningstar was honest with himself. Never, in all these millennia, did he think his brother would die. No matter what he’d said.
❝It wasn’t supposed to be you, Michael.❞ Voice is low, as if dredging up each word from the depths of the ocean, it was an effort to speak. To say what had been through Lucifer’s mind since it had happened. ❝It wasn’t-- You know as well as I do that it wasn’t supposed to be you. Because after Gabriel...❞ He trailed off, sighed, and eventually picked up, stealing his shoulders against the bitter cold that had picked up.
❝I couldn’t do it again. And now, you’ve gone and left me anyway. Again.❞ Anger tinged Lucifer’s tone now, fingers curled against his palm in a fist. ❝You weren’t supposed to leave me--not this time! It wasn’t fair the first time and it isn’t this time, either. I told you we should have just walked away, walked away from this game of Dad’s. But no, you couldn’t listen. You couldn’t give me that one thing, could you? Even if you owed me for everything...❞
The last part trailed off a bit, grew quieter.
❝I never hated you,❞ he whispered, soft and as if confessing the greatest of secrets. ❝I never could. Oh I was angry, don’t think I wasn’t. But I couldn’t--no matter what happened. It’s like something wouldn’t let me hate you, regardless of how angry I was. I thought of so many different ways to make you suffer but I suppose, deep down, I knew I wouldn’t go through with any of them.❞ Lucifer sighed, shook his head, and almost turned away before he simply stopped and fell to the ground, kneeling at that place where his brother had been.
Where his brother was no longer...