Timeless

Chapter One

"The half life of love is forever."
—Junot Diaz, This Is How You Lose Her

Lucifer Morningstar, beloved angel who fell from heaven, was undoubtedly and undeniably lonely. It was a fact he had been struggling to ignore for centuries. But as he stared at himself in the cracked mirror of a New York bus station, the odor of the man sleeping in the corner stinging his nostrils, he concluded that he was a sad, lonely being and the very thought disgusted him.

"You are Lucifer," He muttered to himself, his knuckles turning white from his grip on the sink. "People fear you," He continued, locking coal black eyes with his reflection. "You have brought nations to their knees!" He spit, suddenly angry at the sick reality that had become his existence. The whites of his eyes were red; whether this was from lack of sleep, or something else was unknown. 

In an instant, he raised his hand and smashed the mirror. His reflection stared back at him through shattered glass, the eyes watching him multiplied by a hundred. The reeking man in the corner stirred slightly from the noise, grunted in his sleep, but never awoke. Lucifer dropped his gaze and shook his head, closing his eyes as he laughed bitterly.

He stood like this for a few moments, time dragging on around him as he swallowed the indignation that rose in his chest. His shoulders hunched forward and his back ached, the twin scars that ran parallel the length of his spine burned faintly. His silence was broken when the sod in the corner burped in his sleep and rolled over, muttering drunken slurs under his breath.

"Disgusting," Lucifer spit at the unconscious man, a look of hatred in his eyes as he turned on his heels and went to the door, casting a final glare and flicking his wrist in the direction of the other man before disappearing out the creaky door and into the pollution-ridden air of New York City.

A stoner would later find the man laying in the corner nearly half a week later, dead. He would call the police and they would call paramedics, who would, in the end, write the death off as a alcohol poison. In reality, the unconscious man had merely crossed the path of a very angry, very broken daemon.

***

Lucifer would find her. He had to. He had for the past millenniums, and he would do it once again. It was a feat, really, locating one mortal - one soul- in the whole, wide world. There were billions upon billions of them, and they died all to quickly. Compared to the race of the dead and of the heavenly, the humans were an infestation that live short, pathetic lives, and left a wave of destruction in their wake.

Ironic that the Head Daemon, leader of legions of dead would find himself bound to a mortal soul.

But, being who he was, Lucifer had connections, and had ways of getting what he wanted, he always had. He looked at his watch and frowned, shoving past a smiling couple as he walked down the crowded pavement and dipped down an alley situated between a shady bar and a questionable bodega. 

"You're late," A stern voice grumbled from the back corner of the darkened alley.

Lucifer clenched his jaw, biting back the snarky remark that rose in his throat. He couldn't risk losing the one connection, the only true connection he had with her. "I got caught up," He replied instead in a stiff voice, choosing not to elaborate. He straightened his back and held his chin high, pride clear on his face, as he walked into the darkness towards the voice.

"Fair enough," The other man replied, stepping out from the shadows and eyeing Lucifer warily with bright, golden eyes, his arms crossed over his cloth-clad chest. "How have you been, Lucifer?" He asked nonchalantly, his voice quiet and his eyes scrutinizing as he spoke, ignoring the glare he was given; he watched the Fallen Angel closely, eyeing every move the other being made.