The Perfect Crime [ABANDONED]

Not Good Enough

Lucifer wanted to know what he had done wrong. He stood there for a long second after Michael had disappeared into the building and racked his brain for what he did wrong. So maybe he had been a tad flirty. But if he remembered correctly, Michael was the one who had said that he expected Lucifer to kiss him at some point the first night they had met. And Michael had complained about Lucifer and all his physical contact, but he would still climb into his arms when they were alone. He thought they really had something.

Apparently, he had thought wrong.

Lucifer took a deep breath and tried to ignore the tears in his eyes. He wasn't going to cry about something this stupid. So the guy didn't like him. The guy didn't want to be his friend. Worse things had happened. Way, way worse.

But it hurt. It probably hurt more than it should have. He felt a bit like someone had taken out his heart and stomped on it. And the worst part was that he didn't blame Michael. He wanted to. He wanted to be angry, he wanted to storm down to Adam's hospital room and ask why the hell he had led Lucifer on if he didn't want anything from him. He wanted to ask why, at the very least, they couldn't still be friends. Because he had never had a friend like Michael. He had never had someone who he could tell anything, who could call him out on his bullshit, who he actually thought he could trust with his heart. He should have known it wasn't going to last.

This time when the tears hit him, he didn't bother wiping them away. He sat down on the dusty roof and let himself cry. He was crying all the tears he had been saving up for the past couple of months. Tears for failing Castiel and not saving him from the camp. Tears from packing up his brothers and driving away from the only home he had ever known with no destination in mind. Tears for failing both Gabe and Cassie because he could see them hurting and he couldn't do anything about it. Tears because his brother was now in a wheelchair from something that happened at a part he wouldn't have even been at if it hadn't been for Lucifer. Tears for himself, because it seemed like he couldn't manage to do a single thing right.

----------------------------------

"Mr. Novak!" a voice called from across the lobby. Lucifer cursed himself. He had been on that roof for a good hour and a half before he had managed to pick up the broken pieces of himself and carry on, like he always did. And now he just wanted to go home, shower, and forget about this entire day, this entire month, perhaps his entire life. He just needed a good night's sleep.

He turned to see the last person he wanted to see at the moment.

"Detective Metatron," Lucifer said, wishing he could dig a hole into the lobby of the hospital, bury himself in it, and then pay someone to retile over him.

"It's weird to see you leaving so soon. I was wondering if I could ask you a couple more questions," the detective asked. Lucifer rubbed his forehead, which was starting to hurt. He always got headaches after he cried. He didn't know what else the detective could possibly ask. He had been asked questions about every single details of that night, about every person he remembered, every song he sang, why he had left early.

"Well, I was sort of on my way home. I've got class tomorrow, and a paper..." Lucifer started.

"It'll only take a couple of minutes," Detective Metatron said. "I can give you a ride home, if you want." Lucifer thought about this. He didn't have his Kansas license yet, so Chuck and Becky didn't really want him driving. And in order to make sure he did stop, they took his keys. Which meant he had no way of getting home. Usually Michael was his ride...

"Sure," Lucifer said before a fresh wave of tears could hit him. He decided that he hated emotions. They sucked.

"Well, I just want to go over some of the basics. When did you get to Balthazar's house?" Detectivie Metatron asked.