Galaxies Apart

Chapter 3: Blue blood

(T.W.: Depression, mentions of ab*se and self harm, suicide attempt)

"How dare he, that cock-sucking, horse-fucking motherfucker, pretending to care, pretending to love me, saying he's always thought of no one else but me, what a bunch of fucking bullshit!" The red imp screamed out, smashing everything that there was to smash in his office, taking a bottle of the strongest booze he could find and downing it in one go, feeling himself spiraling out of control. He was spewing out anything that could've maintained the illusion that whatever him and Stolas had was never anything more than a transaction, a deal they made for each party to get something in return. He never agreed to this... he never agreed to feelings he didn't know how to face, he never agreed to his tender voice telling him he loves him, he never agreed to feeling like he could finally matter to someone... He only agreed for meaningless sex and a book he could travel to the mortal realm with. He didn't want to live a life of love and happiness because, quite frankly, what Asmodeus said was true... He's been a piece of shit all his life, trained by his very own father to take away what he thought he was entitled to, to steal from the rich, to despise anyone who wasn't dirt poor like him or who wasn't working their asses off for a penny. But Stolas... Stolas was kind, gentle, noble, elegant, dignified, he was refined and well educated... and fuck, was he beautiful, too... A brain to go with those looks, for sure. What could someone like him possibly see in a piece of shit imp, ex circus clown, whose entire life was constructed on stealing from others and defying the exact group of people that Stolas was a part of... And yet somehow... He wasn't like any of them... He helped others, he cared for his daughter, he could see past someone's status and financial situation... He was, in the most literate sense... a gem... One in a million... A star on the sky that shined brighter than any other... And like the dumb imp that he was, he threw him away... The fact that he even stood a chance was baffling to him. What more could he see in him other than a dick to ride and a personal escort...? This didn't make any sense to him... Stolas could have absolutely anyone he wished for... With a brain, a personality, a face and and a body like that... why him, specifically...? If it wasn't just for convenience...? All these questions were eating him alive, until he's heard a voice who snapped him out of his rage he was feeling for all these complicated and conflicting emotions that were keeping him in a constant state of existential dread. He felt like he was in a constant state of sleep paralysis. In a frightening liminal space between states of being. Not quite dead, not quite alive.

"Sir, It's almost been a month, I don't think you have any right to be upset. You did, after all, reject every single opportunity to talk and be open about whatever feelings you had for the Prince. Now face the consequences of your actions in silence, we've got paperwork to go through." Moxxie said, and those words earned a bottle thrown towards him which he successfully dodged. "Don't fucking tell me how to deal with my feelings, giving me all that logical bullshit! Feelings and romance and dating was never stipulated in our initial agreement!" Blitzø yelled out, his voice cracking as he felt tears running down his face. "Fuck it. No more work for the day, we're all off. I'm going out tonight." He said, taking his jacket and opening the door, not wanting another minute alone with his feelings. "See you later, bastards. Enjoy your happy marriage and rub it in my face some more when I get back, will ya?" He said sarcastically before slamming the door behind him.

And just in a few minutes, he was in front of the only place he knew he could escape his shitty life in, other than Ozzie's: Queen Bee's mansion. She was partying constantly. He thought maybe she threw a party today, too. And of course, his intuition was right, with loud music blasting from her place, and people drinking and making out all around the property. He wasted no time, walking inside and yelling as loud as his lungs allowed him to "Alright, motherfuckers, who's ready to fucking party!" And as the crowd cheered, he smirked, ready to get fucked up tonight more than in any other day of his life.