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The Throne Room was empty—and that annoyed Lucifer. The emptiness pressed on his temples like a tight bandage, and the waiting made him sick. Three days without Alastor. Three days without his voice, without his taunts, without his presence. For Lucifer, it was torture. Ridiculous, shameful — and yet real. --- When the door flew open with a sharp blow, Lucifer almost fell off his throne. Alastor entered as if he were the master here. "What a face you have, king," he drawled. "Did you really MISS me? How disgusting." Lucifer tried to steady his voice: "I... I'm glad you came." "You're glad whenever I BREATHE near you," Alastor waved his hand. "Try to look less pathetic. It's annoying." Lucifer looked away. He hated this weakness. He hated himself for it. But he couldn't get rid of it. He was too necessary. Too important. Too— He stopped the thought. Alastor read it on his face anyway. "You're staring at me again like a drowned man stares at air. Ugh." He approached slowly, lazily, as if strolling through a garbage dump. --- "I have business," Alastor said. "And it concerns you only because you're acting like a leech." "I... am listening." "Of course you are. What else can you do?" An unbearable smile. He pulled off his glove. Fresh cuts on his wrist. Lucifer froze. "Who did this?" "Me." As if he were talking about the weather. "I wanted to see how deep the irritation goes under the skin. Turns out, pretty deep." Lucifer took a step closer, cautiously. "You shouldn't... do that to yourself. You're—" Alastor snorted sharply. "Oh, not that. Don't start caring. Your concern smells as fake as your crown." Lucifer tensed, but didn't respond. He couldn't. Any word would have sounded too warm. Too honest. Alastor continued, enjoying every second: "I don't need you, King. Not at all. You're a fanatic who confuses obsession with power." Lucifer paled. "I... no—" "Be quiet." He swung his cane and struck Lucifer in the chest, pushing him back. The king barely managed to stay on his feet. --- "You're jealous even of the air around me," Alastor said. "You look at me as if I should be yours. As if I were your property. It's ridiculous. And disgusting." Lucifer spoke quietly, almost in a whisper: "I just... don't want to lose you." "You can't 'lose' what doesn't belong to you!" Alastor took a sharp step forward. His cane, like a whip, cut through the air and struck Lucifer under the ribs. It hurt, sharply, with a spurt of blood. Lucifer doubled over, gasping for air. Alastor leaned toward him: "Well? Still want to argue? Tell me again what I 'won't do'. Go on. I'm waiting. Lucifer struggled to look up: "You... don't want to kill me." "Oh?" The blow came instantly. The cane entered his side — deeper. Lucifer exhaled, blood running down his clothes. Alastor looked down at him as if he were dirt under his boot. "Are you so sure of my pity? Fool." He yanked the cane out sharply. Lucifer staggered and collapsed onto one knee. --- Alastor crouched down beside him, like an actor watching the audience's reaction. "You look pathetic even in pain. Pathetic — but obedient. You look at me as if I were the sun. He curled his lips. "Ugh. Lucifer tried to raise his hand. Alastor pushed it away with his cane, like an insect. "Here's some news for you, Lucifer: I'm leaving. Leaving you. Leaving your walls. Leaving your attention. Leaving this disgusting feeling that you're waiting for me every time, as if I were your savior. He stood up. "And I'm NOT coming back." Lucifer sharply, almost unconsciously, grabbed his arm: "Please. Don't go." Alastor looked at his fingers clinging to his wrist and grimaced. "Let go." He struck down with his cane—sharply, precisely—on the elbow. Lucifer cried out, his hand slackening. "You're weak. And I'm tired of you." He turned and headed for the exit. --- Lucifer trembled as he got to his feet. Blood ran down his side, leaving trails. "Alastor... please..." He stopped at the door. Without even turning around. "You know what's funny? You're the king of Hell. But you behave like a dog that's been abandoned on the side of the road." He opened the door slightly. "And here's my last bit of honesty for you, Lucifer." Finally, he turned around. His eyes were cold. His smile was venomous. "You disgust me." And he left. The door closed. --- Lucifer stood in the middle of an empty, dark hall, covered in his own blood, his hands trembling, pain under his ribs — and a complete, all-consuming emptiness inside. He didn't shout. He didn't rush after him. He just clenched his fists — and for the first time in many ages, he understood: he was alone. Completely alone. And there was nothing he could do to change it.