See Me As I Am

LuciPOV: Metaphors

The look on Chloe's face when she'd found out what he'd done hadn't felt right. Instead of punishing him, she had tried to let him off the hook, but Lucifer didn't want to be forgiven. He wanted to be punished. He'd thought sharing the burden with Chloe would have relieved some of his guilt but it hadn't changed anything. Every time he closed his eyes all he could see was his brother's dying face. Lucifer had never felt guilty for anything before in his entire life. Never, not about anything, and he didn't know what to do about it.

It didn't take him long to get home and even less time to open a bottle of bourbon. He called and cancelled his appointment with Linda. The idea of trying to confide in someone who thought he spoke only in metaphor didn't appeal to him tonight.

Lucifer knew he could talk to Chloe about his problems. She knew he didn't speak in metaphors and she'd even offered to help, but Lucifer didn't want to talk about these emotions. He just wanted them to go away.

It had happened so quickly, but Chloe Decker was, by definition, a person in Lucifer's life. Every day it was getting harder to imagine what his life would look like without her. Crime solving was good fun as far as he was concerned - it would be a shame if he had to give it up - but deep down he knew it had become just a great excuse to spend time with Chloe.

Lucifer finished off the drink in his hand. It was also a shame he couldn't get drunk. If he had to pick between being able to bleed and being able to become intoxicated Lucifer would be halfway to happy town by now.

The next best thing to being drunk was being surrounded by drunks so Lucifer decided to throw a party. It seemed better than being alone, even if it felt the same.

Despite Chloe's advice, Lucifer couldn't quite shake the feeling of hating himself. He was hoping loud music would at least drown out the troublesome emotion.

It only took a few phone calls to plan. Lux was a popular club and getting enough people together to party was the Devil's specialty. He was still in the process of making calls and ordering liquor when someone walked off the elevator into his penthouse. Lucifer looked up to see who it was.

"Sup," Maze said. "Just here to collect some stuff. I'm moving in with Decker." She was walking across the room as she spoke and hadn't even bothered to look over at Lucifer.

Lucifer did not want to hear this. Those two hanging out could only mean bad things for him. After all, what would they talk about if not him?

"Don't go messing with the Detective's head while you're there," Lucifer told her. "I can't have you two ganging up on me."

"Oh please," Maze scoffed. "As if this has anything to do with you." With that, she lifted the bag she'd pulled out of the closet and turned to head back to the door.

"Are you sure that's your stuff?" Lucifer called after her.

"It's mine now," Maze called back, and then she was gone.

"Someone's not getting an invite to my party," Lucifer huffed as the elevator doors closed behind the thieving demon.

Lucifer woke up on the floor. It had been three days since he'd thrown the first party. The first one had bled into the second and the third party had been just a tad much, even for him. Lucifer had snorted, drunk, and sniffed enough in those days to kill several small elephants. He was, of course, one hundred percent sober which just pissed him off. Some of the really hard drugs did give him a few seconds of tingle, but then his stupid celestial metabolism would ruin all his fun. At least the loud music and mass of people had managed to improve his mood somewhat. These parties were mostly sex, drugs and drinking which had been enough for him before he'd met the detective. Now, these parties made him feel a little bit emptier afterwards.