LUCIFER ◆ N. Mikaelson

20 // Goodbyes Are Overrated Anyway

One Week Later. . .

—————

"I'm leaving if she isn't ready in five minutes," Kol grunts, rocking little Gabriel in his arms.

I chuckle at his impatience, earning a glare. Niklaus smiles when I glance at him. We are on our way to a banquet that Elijah is sponsoring, and waiting on Rebekah.

"Not all of us can get ready at the snap of our fingers," Rebekah pats down her dress as she steps into view.

She's wearing an olive green dress with an open neckline. It fits her well and the colour is nice. Her eyeshadow matches, a tinge of green.

"Nice of you to finally show up," Niklaus teases, before kissing his sisters cheek.

She smiles evilly, "Hmmph. Go to Hell."

"Been there already, dear sister. It's quite lovely this time of year," He gives me a wink.

Shaking my head, I walk out the door.

~~~~

I sip my 'lemonade', already having turned it to whiskey. Everybody here are rich pricks, and dealing with them sober proves difficult. The twins are napping in their carriers, with Niklaus keeping an eye on them. Elijah and Kol have already begun to make their way around the park, talking to guests as if they had been friends for years. My eyes search for Rebekah, smiling when I catch her talking to Stefan.

"My, my, it's barely past noon." Damon eyes my glass playfully, announcing his presence.

"What ever are you talking about?" I smile.

He chuckles and raises his glass, which by the smell of his breath I can tell is spiked, and I raise mine. We both gulp back our drinks, earning disapproving looks from Elijah across crowds of people. I roll my eyes at him, and refill our glasses.

"Half empty or half full?" Damon ponders, staring into his glass as he brings it up to his face.

I tilt my head. "I think what matters more is what's in the glass. And your taste buds," I take a swig.

Damon nods and wears a knowing smirk. I smile back, but it drops when my eyes look at who's behind him. Michael. My breath stops and I hold myself still, as if he wouldn't see me if I didn't move. But the lingering eyes dislodge my theory.

"Lucifer, could we talk?" He side glances Damon.

I pack down the fear into a small suitcase and chuck it far into the ocean, letting it sink away from me. My jaw tightens and I hold my glass a bit too tight, causing shards to cut my hand. The beverage itself spills to the ground, getting soaked up by the thirsty grass. Blood mixes with the alcohol, and covers my hand.

Michael looks down at my hand with a sour look, before focusing back on my eyes. He watches as if he's bored.

"We're talking. Though really I should burn your ass, for what you did to me," I seethe.

He smiles, making me uncomfortable and confused. "I'm sorry. Father—

I hold up a hand, "Woah, wait. You're sorry? You killed me—stabbed me in the back, literally, with a sword—and then you have the audacity to apologize?"

My eyes burn through him with anger. How could he do that? Does he honestly believe everything will be fine after that? I already fell for his antics once, it will not happen again. How dare he even stand near me, after all he's done.

"You're nothing but a dickhead," Damon raises his glass towards Michael, "And frankly no one wants you here, bud. So I suggest you leave, or I'll rip your throat out through your ass." He pours the drink over Michael.