BadBoyHalo: The 808th Demon

-Chapter 13- The Anniversary Party

The party seemed to be going well.

A considerable amount of people showed up, most likely due to 808's suggestion to spice it up a little. Puffy, 808, and Sapnap had spent the entire afternoon setting up the entire thing— maybe even going a bit overboard on the decorations, but their efforts had certainly paid off. The hotel had turned into the snazziest place in town, and Tommy couldn't have been more proud.

"You guys have outdone yourselves! I'm so happy I hired you, BadBoy!" Tommy tried to pat 808's back, only to awkwardly smack his huge wings in the way.

"Isn't he great?" Puffy agreed.

"Guys, I can't take all the credit, though I do appreciate it."

They had huddled everyone in the cafeteria, neon lights flashing in all sorts of directions. The main counter was overflowing with tasty appetizers and treats. Happy chatter filled the room. 808 breathed a sigh a contentedness, for he had never felt so accomplished in life. Though it may have been a small compliment, Tommy's words flourished within him. In fact, a lot of the little things became a treasure to him. The people of L'manburg started to look at him in awe rather than fear. A smile here, a hat tip there, 808 cherished it all.

He felt a tugging at his hand. Looking down, he saw Sapnap pointing to the opposite corner of the dining hall. He was asking to run off with his friends.

"Okay, but please be careful," he advised.

"I will!" He was gone in a flash.

808 went to help Puffy supply the refreshments in the kitchen when it was time for Tommy and Tubbo to speak. They had stepped onto a makeshift stage, and Tommy tapped on the microphone.

"Thank you all so much for coming!" he boomed. "It's nice to know that you guys care about me and my hotel."

The crowd replied with a few cheers, mostly from Quackity and his refusal to shut his rigid mouth. With this, the two began their disorganized speech. They babbled about their victories against Dream, and told tall tales of their adventures. It was an amusing sight— to see the kids gobble up each other's excitement, ping-ponging their voices around the stage. Occasionally they would leap in the air to the harsh shrill of feedback, and sloppily try to regain their composure... if there even was any at the start.

"Now, as a commemoration for this hotel, and also for my best friend," Tubbo squeaked. "I have a little something special..."

Ranboo carted a jukebox up onto the stage. Taking it, Tubbo untucked a disc from his satchel; and he inserted it into the box and pressed "play."  Soon the tender swing of Mellohi began to fill the room. The two boys couldn't be more elated, bobbing around to the music, while the rest had begun to pick up their conversations again.

808 stood behind the counter, bobbing to the music. Having never heard such a beautiful sound before, he swayed happily, tail swishing to and fro. He bounced to each gentle pluck, teetered at every downbeat— it was so strange, so divine, for he could not get enough. Then the strong violins burst forth, and so did his goosebumps. He was losing himself in the music, for the other voices had been washed away, completely tuned in to the whirring machine only. 808 leaned farther, shutting his eyes, wanting to deepen himself further into the noise.

He marred the countertop in doing so.

Looking down, he jumped at the sight of his hands that were pressed onto the edge. Being made out of pure oak, it easily rotted into a blackened grime where he had leaned on. He panicked, sweeping the molded mess into the nearest trash and covering the spot with some tablecloth. That left his heart throbbing a distraught cry for composure. He checked all the refreshments in case any were also spoiled. As far as he could tell, only one cup of punch had perished.

808 reeled his hands back, almost fainting from what he had done. Music has always done peculiar things to demons, and remarkably he wasn't an exception. He was praying that none saw it happen, though it was inevitable that someone will. 808 drew a deep breath, and went back in to the kitchen to refill the cookies.

Considering that he had expected to find more punch bowls being made while the party was in full swing, it was a bit of a surprise to walk in to Puffy fumbling with her jacket to get it to zip up. She paced around the kitchen island, snatching up her belongings in a hasty fashion. However, the most intriguing thing was how her once peachy skin now turned pasty.

"I have to go," she uttered.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Don't worry about it," she assured. "Can I trust you to keep charge while I'm gone?"

808 blinked, not all too sure how to reply. His curiosity overtook most of his judgement. Why was she leaving? He barely attempted to flutter out his response.

"Yeah, sure."

"You're the best." She strode past without even batting an eye, her gaze fixed to the ground. The hefty metal door swung closed, cutting him off from everything else. Cutting him off from her. The commotion from the cafeteria was now just a distant hum. Her unmistakable plodding along the tile faded away.

That was the most uncomfortable conversation he ever had with her.

Well, perhaps not uncomfortable, maybe more unsettling. She was put off by something— if only he knew what. It was not natural for her, she was never worried by much, and he had a feeling that she knew that too. Trying to roll it off, 808 went back to the cookies. Because hey, the real culprit is sometimes too much overthinking, right?

But it also never hurts to check.

He went back out to the counter to find Tommy slouched in one of the bar stools. He seemed to be talking to an older man before turning his attention to 808.

"Aye, if it isn't BadBoy, innit?" he shouted. "Phil, this is the guy I've been talking to you about."

"Hello," the man spoke politely, adding a small wave. His slender fingers gave a rather knobbed impression and were hooked at the tips— similar to 808's, but a little more delicate.

Tommy began to blabber again, obviously trying to convince his aged companion about decisions regarding his business. Tommy didn't realize that 808 was trying to leave, and had kept on inviting him back in the discussion. He wormed his way out from behind the counter. By the time he made it to hall, 808 had dodged many who sought his attention, whether it be for a beverage refill or for a quick chat. The hall was much quieter, giving him the opportunity to breathe a little. His steps were slow and gradual, since he wasn't sure exactly where he was going. Peeking through the main doors, he just barely managed to catch Puffy jogging down the street before she disappeared out of eyeshot.

A loud banging erupted from one of the upper floors, and spirited laughter followed. 808 calculated about three pairs of feet tramping along whichever hallway they were horsing around in.

"Sapnap!" he shouted. "Sapnap, come down here I need you!"

He was only given more loud thudding as a response. Sighing, he decided to leave them be. Puffy was already pretty far, and he was afraid of losing her before he even started. 808 gripped the door handle, uneasy of the idea of following her without her notice— that's what stalking is. He coaxed himself that he just wants to check if she's okay, nothing more. Not to mention what all the possible interpretations Tommy could conjure up at this odd problem had made him tense up even more. And with all this constant debating, he had overwhelmed himself again. Oh how he wished he was more like Sapnap sometimes! His conscience was never so complicated. All the little bugger did was "do" with no questions asked. How daring he is! And to think that 808 never really caught that until now.

He discarded all the arguments in his head and pushed open the door.