Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Stolas was many things.

A voracious reader, able to consume dozens of books in a mere matter of weeks. A daydreamer, as his teachers could confirm, one who could make up a long, long scenario in his very head to keep himself entertained for hours. A liar, when it came to facing consequences. A coward, when his father was involved.

A fool, as many would say and confirm, one who could lose himself in a fantasy so far that reality started to become blurry. Recently learnt he was as straight as a circle, in the stupidest yet most simple way possible in this hell — while reading a romance book that reminded him too much of his best friend.

Because yes, Stolas had been lonely for a long, long time. Up until his eleventh birthday, to be precise, where he met the reason he got himself out of bed each morning. Suddenly the quiet of his room was was brutally replaced by noise. Make it laughter, footsteps, shouting, the sound of the bookshelf being bonked upon and as a consequence a series of novels falling on the ground. No matter which kind, Stolas' chambers could never be silent again.

And to be completely honest, he wouldn't have it in any other way. Blitzø was a wild card, loud since they were the smallest children, now grown in an equally noisy man and, at least for Stolas' naive eyes, the embodiment of freedom. Since he had entered his life, since he had ever so stubbornly kept visiting him despite Paimon’s disapproval, since he insisted in including Stolas in each silly activity his even sillier circus crew organized.

Since the moment their eyes met for the first time, Stolas knew he belonged to him.

Now, Stolas was many things, an halfwit at best, but up until a certain point. His heart had been screaming Blitzø's name since the earliest times, but he had never voiced such facts. Why doing so, if it would only end up in the most bitter of heartbreaks? No, their friendship was too dear to be risked for some stupid, unrequited feelings. Losing him would mean losing a part of himself, and so Stolas kept his mouth shut.

That did not mean, unfortunately, that he was capable of controlling his body language. He may have been a liar, but he never said he was a good one.

A brush of fingers. A gaze that lingered just one millisecond too long. A flush on his cheeks. A small, insignificant yet humiliatingly audible stutter in his voice. Stolas was sure that Blitzø must at least suspect of his feelings, and he couldn’t blame him, really. It was obvious, mortifyingly so, and every time they spoke it was like waiting for the other shoe to drop. Blitzø was always casual, always so friendly and just so effortlessly cool. There was no other way to describe him; he never thought twice about what he was saying what he was doing, the consequences of his actions, unlike Stolas, whom never dared to utter a sound before imagining three possible outcomes for the incoming conversation.

Perhaps it was also what he had read about — how opposites tended to attract each other, like the poles of two magnets destined to stick together for the rest of their existence, attracted by the energy completely opposite to one's own, drawn together by the most insatiable of the urges to be close, as close as possible. He did feel like the main reason he was so overly attached to the other man was the thrill of anything different in a world of monotony.

But that was such a silly thought, was it not? Because it simply must have had to imply Blitzø wanted him, too, and he knew that could never be the case. He’d given him way too many hints to catch that had been thoroughly dismissed for that to be true, after all, and after a while hope became a long time old friend.

But in all honesty, whatever. So what if his undying love was unrequited? So what if his heart was crushed on a daily basis? So what if each and every day of his life he desired for those arms to enclose around him more? So what if his pillow was never going to go back to the same colour it originally was because of how many time’s he’d soaked it with his tears? So what? They were friends, they spent every dying minute in each other’s presence. Stolas couldn’t bring himself to complain, not when the one he felt so strongly for felt something for him in return. Perhaps not what he wished, but something. Something strong enough to allow him to care.

And he relished in it. If it were ever to run dry, it’d be the very end of their relationship. He silently, ever so slowly fell in love with that care, too, because there wasn’t a part of Blitzø Buckzo that, apparently, Stolas was capable of not falling in love with.

And again, it was… fine! Stolas was good at keeping a secret. Nobody, excluding the stars and his pillows and his blankets and the walls of his room and his journals and his books and his butlers and Blitzø’s family knew about his crush. So it was safe!

Blitzø, bless him, wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, so he was at least safe on that. His beloved’s self esteem was close to the level of non existence, and for how absolutely devastating the fact was on a daily basis, sometimes it brought a sweet, forbidden relief thar granted he’d never think of himself high enough to believe Stolas could feel that kind of affection for him, nor at least the greatest depths of it unable to be described with words. Which wasn’t something to celebrate, of course! Just… a tad relieving. Only a small bit.

Unfortunately his life, like Blitzø would say, fucking hated his guts and tended to shoot him in the foot way more often than he would have liked himself.

Blitzø was, in every way the word might suggest, a rascal. Quick enough to skim from one side of the room to the other in a matter of seconds, agile in a way that permitted him to climb and hang on taller furniture, to balance himself on thinner objects, and unmistakeably, unbearably loud. If he was bored, he’d make it everyone else’s problem.

“Stolas.”

Which unfortunately seemed to be the case that afternoon.

“Stolas. Stolas.”

One poke on his arm. Two. Three.

“Stolas. Stolas does reading make you fucking deaf? Stolas.”

“It’s supposed to stimulate focus.” The book shut close with a small thump. “However it isn’t the easiest task to accomplish when there is someone trying to take it away.”

Oh, if only there were any words to describe the absolute warmth that spread in his chest when that grin spread all over Blitzø’s face, sharp fangs visible from one side of his handsome face to the other,his eyes sparkling with that hint of mischief he’d been trying to hide his devotion for since his most tender ages. “Whoa, who’s that? Sounds like a real asshole.”

“He is. Quite impatient too.”

“I hope he’s sexy enough to make up for it.”

It was a joke, Blitzø always joked like that, just a stupid joke that Stolas was not supposed to blush to because even if he thought he was absolutely right there was no way Blitzø could ever be allowed to know.

“Perhaps in a dream.” He conceded. “A deep, prosperous, quite imaginative dream—”

Blitzø let out a snort, swatting his arm playfully, “Fuck you.”

Thump. Thump. “I’d rather if it was someone sexy doing it.”

He loved, loved loved the way his laughter seemed to echo through the chamber as he flopped back into the matrass, his tail wrapping around the book to throw it to the other side of the bed.

“We can say goodbye to the focus.”

“Thank fuck.” He rolled on his stomach. “C’mon, Stols, the fuck did you invite me here for?”

A smile, “I recall you barging in through my window instead.”

“I didn’t mean today.”

“When, then?”

“Mh, six years ago? Bad mistake if you ask me.”

Goodness gracious. Not even the toughest person in hell could have helped the way his heart started violently fluttering in his chest. And he let out a giggle, looking at him perhaps too fondly.

“Alright, then.” He shifted so his knees could rest against his chest and his chin upon his newly folded arms. “What else would you like to do?”

Blitzø’s tail had the tendency to swish depending on his personal mood. Slow, up in the air if bored, low on the floor if grumpy. Swishing from side to side to the point of wagging ever so cutely if happy. Right now, it moved back and forth in a pleased, yet calmer swing.

“Anything that doesn’t involve those boring ass books would be dope.” He declared, “Unless you were reading one of your porny scenes —”

“They’re not porny!” A protest made its way out of his mouth, followed by the unmistakable flush of his cheeks, “They’re — heavily passionate. There is a difference.”

“Huh uh.” His tongue poked out. “That why you never let me have a peak?”

He hoped his face wasn’t as hot as he felt it be, because in all honesty, his choice in books had become quite obvious since the myriad of feelings he felt for the other had hit him right in the face that fatidic afternoon — and if the main couple was always about imps, it was for his eyes and his only to know, because not only would it be incredibly embarrassing to admit, but Blitzø would never let him live it down.

That, and the fact it would without a doubt give him away. No, he couldn’t quite risk that.

“As if you’d understand one word of it.” He said instead, fingers coming to flick between his eyes. “One sentence and you’d be deep asleep.”

Clawed fingers enclosed around his wrist. “Fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He suppressed a shiver, “That you lack in the necessary taste for actual literature, what else?”

“Fuck off.” Blitzø released him with a huff, but his lips were curled upwards. “Your idea of actual literature,” His accent did not sound like that, “is two grown ass adults sobbing and sucking faces under some fuckin’ storm or whatever the fuck.”

Stolas gasped, “Kissing under the rain is romantic, you brute!”

“Yeah, if someone wants to get a fucking cold! At least bring out an umbrella—”

“There aren’t umbrellas when two people rush out of a room, Blitzy!” He continued, rather exasperated. “Would you think of getting one when the love of your life is running away from you?”

Blitzø grimaced, “Why the fuck would he run away from me?”

He. He shouldn’t be dwelling on that, he really should not. Blitzø had come out to him ages ago after all, told him fair and square he liked men women and everything in between, and he’d seen him date around a good ton of times during the years. But the certainty which he’d referred to the ‘love of his life’ to a man was so —

“Because, darling,” Lucifer, Stolas, regather yourself, “what’s a good romance without a misunderstanding?” A longing sigh made its way out of his lips. “The tension, the drama! The doubt of the will they won’t they. The constant fights over something so simple —”

“Stolas.” Blitzø placed an hand on his shoulder. Satan. “It sounds miserable as fuck. Who would read something like that?”

“This is why you’ll never read anything from my library, dear.” He had to scoot away from his big, warm hand before his poor heart exploded right inside of his chest. “I’m afraid you lack of the required taste for —”

“Badly written porn.”

“—traditional romance.” He glared, “Stop referring to it like that.”

“They fuck, you read how they fuck! It’s porn!”

Deciding it was better to just give up instead of skinning him alive, Stolas flopped back on his pillows with a heavy huff.

“I’m never sharing anything else with you.”

Blitzø’s eyes rolled, and he scooted closer. “Come on, you drama queen.”

“I am merely doing you a favour!” He closed his eyes and crossed his arms. “Since my taste seems to bother you so much —”

“Fuck off, I never fucking said that!” He heard him snort. “Are you seriously mad at me?”

“I don’t know. Am I?” Don’t laugh don’t laugh don’t laugh. “Perhaps. Maybe I can forgive you. If you ask me nicely.”

And his dear Blitzy, who was the most stubborn person Stolas had ever met, let out a series of grumbles before flopping right on his legs, stretching over him like it was the most normal thing to do and not a way to send Stolas into a certain premature death by cardiac arrest.

“You can’t stay mad at me.” He mused all knowingly.

Please, for the love of everything, do not let his voice stutter as much as he felt it do so. “And, by grace, who could be saying such?”

“Fucking mother nature.” Blitzø said. “Stronger than you or some shit. You love me too much.”

His hands were shaking and he had to grip the sheets to keep them still. Lucifer gracious, he’d never be able to suppress the way his heart would drop for two mere seconds whenever something like that was said — and it was so stupid, because of course Blitzø knew that. They were friends, friends loved each other. It was only that his own love ran a little deeper. Much deeper. So, so deep.

“Fuck you.” He let himself smile. “Stop insulting my interests.”

“One day.”

“Get off my lap.” Please don’t.

“I don’t think I will.”

“You’re heavy,” He kept on whining, pushing Blitzø’s head away with a significant lack of any kind of real force. “Get off.”

“In front of you? Yuck—”

“Blitzø!”

Rolling away from his thighs, Blitzø stood on his knees and let out a hum, eyeing the book that had now fallen onto the ground with a thump the more they messed with the sheets.

“So what was that one about?” He asked, this time settling to lay on the pillows right next to him.

Satan, please don’t. He gulped. “I thought it wasn’t of your interest.”

“You like it.” He glanced aside. “I like it too. Uh. When you’re having fun and shit.”

Oh. Oh, his poor heart couldn’t take it, he was going to die. Would he go to double hell? Did that exist? It didn’t matter, because the only thing he knew was that he wasn’t going to survive. He felt his chest squeeze, and it took a few seconds to remember the correct process in which he could allow oxygen to reach his neglected lungs.

“A-Ah…” He cleared his throat. “It was nothing, really — just, the usual. Two guys — people! Uhm, two people meet up and —”

Blitzø let out a soft, amused snicker. Stolas felt himself heat up. Again.

“—they fall in love. I suppose.” He mumbled, and he wasn’t sure why speaking felt so difficult. “After quite a ton of drama and misunderstandings. Did you know one of them considers getting with their lover’s sibling? Pointless love triangles are my least favourite kind.”

“Huh uh.”

“What I mean is, what’s the point? He’s already in love! Why considering the idea of someone else?”

“Totally.”

“I would understand if he was just trying to move on, but it was so clear he was liked back!”

“Mhmhh.”

“I just don’t get it. I certainly could never desire to pursue anyone different from the man I love—”

He hadn’t meant to stutter. He really should not have slapped his mouth with his hand, because way to give yourself away, moron. And judging by the way Blitzø’s tail flicked, he’d noticed.

“I mean—” He cleared his throat. “Hypothetically. If I ever—”

Blitzø shook his head. “Hold the fuck on. You like someone?”

“I—”

“And you never told me?!”

That’s it. He was going to die.

Stolas’ hands slid up from his mouth to his eyes, sinking into the pillows with the most pathetic whimper that could ever come out from one’s mouth.

“Hey, no—” Blitzø grabbed his arms, pointlessly trying to move them out of the way. “You don’t get to fucking hide from me after that! I’m your fucking best friend!”

“Please just drop it.” He pleaded, not daring to move his fingers once inch. He didn’t know what would be worse, Blitzø being happy for him, or being offended he hadn’t trusted him with such a secret before.

“I’m not dropping shit!” Blitzø kept on pulling, “Stolas.”

“Blitzø.”

“Do I know him?”

“Him?!” He squawked, shock winning over the shame he felt as his hands flew away from his face on their own to stare at him agape. “How would you ever —”

“Stolas.” The imp had the guts to deadpan. “Are we still gonna pretend you’d ever look at a girl?”

It’s not like he’d ever “come out.” No, Stolas had never been the bravest person, and the thought of confessing such things about himself had always made his skin crawl. Blitzø had just… figured it out, somehow. They never talked about it. Never mentioned it. Never uttered the word gay out loud. Yet the knowledge seemed to just be… there. Hearing it uttered out loud for the first time in seventeen years made his stomach flip inside of his stomach for the lamest second.

He still looked aside, however, finding himself unwilling to answer — how was he ever supposed to explain to the person he loved why he’d never told him he was in love in the first place?

“Stolas.”

“It’s not important.” He blurted out. “It’s just a crush. Barely a crush! I just —” love you so much I feel like it’s consuming me from the inside “Find him cute! He’s just very —” handsome, beautiful, you’re so attractive I cannot think straight for the life of me “appealing as one would say, just quite” perfect “my type, I would assume, but that’s — quite irrelevant...”

In all this, Blitzø was just staring. Looking at him, and Stolas had never been the best at reading people, so he hoped he was just imagining the utter lack of any sort of emotion altogether. Silly, was it not, to hope he’d ever see one ounce of jealousy coming from his platonic, completely not interested best friend, but his heart just could not get the memo, it seemed.

“So, well—” He cleared his throat. “Let’s just change the subject —”

“What does he look like?”

Stolas paused, “Pardon?”

“Him. Mister fucking perfect.” His tail flicked. “Is he pretty?”

Definitely. So much so I can’t concentrate. “What makes you ask that?”

“Just — Wanna make sure he’s worthy and shit.” Blitzø sat up straight, his head turned. “You’re like — real fucking pretty. Objectively. Can’t just go out with an uggo.”

His brain was full of words. Reading since you’re freshly out of your own egg did that to you. He could form the most elaborate sentences in a matter of seconds, and giving speeches under pressure had never been too much of an issue so far. He couldn’t, to put it mildly, shut the fuck up most of the time.

But right now? Right now his throat closed onto itself so hard he threatened to choke on his own spit, his mouth snapping shut with a hard click no matter how many times he tried to open it, let out any sort of sound. He just stared, stared with eyes so wide Blitzø must have noticed the utter disbelief on his face, because his eyes rolled and he could swear those cerise cheeks had darkened just a tad further.

“The fuck is that face for?”

“You think I’m pretty?” He finally managed to blurt out, and Lucifer, how fast his heart was beating.

Blitzø seemed to hesitate. “I mean — yes? Like, of fucking course you are.”

Stolas felt the strange, uncontrollable urge to throw himself at him and squeal until he had no voice left in his vocal chords. It was fortunate he still had a good dose of self control left in his veins.

“Oh.” Was all he said instead of singing on top of his lungs, playing with the sheets below. The tissue was smooth under his fingers, and he hoped the gloves he was wearing would be enough to keep them from being drenched in their sweat.

Silence grew.

“Me too. Y’know.” The imp muttered after some time, and Stolas raised his eyes.

“Mh?”

“Me too.” He said again, this time quite clearly blushing a deep, violent red. “I — like someone. Too. Y’know.”

Oh. “Oh. You never— told me such.”

“Yeah.” He grumbled, “I’m a fucking hypocrite.”

This was fine. Really! It was so okay. He would just need to find a good pillow to scream into the second Blitzø left. Really! It was fine. He was so happy for him. And for this lucky fucking stranger that got to be loved by the most perfect man in creation. Really!

His chest tightening, Stolas forced himself to smile. “Is that so? Do I know them?”

“Maybe. Don’t fucking know.” He said quickly, “He’s a fucking idiot. Doesn’t even know himself.”

“I see.”

“And he’s — so fucking stubborn. A blind bitch.”

“Ah.”

“Fucking — pretty. Stolas, he’s so fucking pretty.”

Okay. This was okay. This was okay.

“Way out of my fucking league. He’s —”

Totally fucking okay.

“He sounds lovely.” He forced the words out of his mouth, and his grip intensified so much a hole ripped in the middle of the sheets he’d been gripping. He took a breath, “And does he, uhm, share this affection?”

Blitzø actually snickered. Honestly, earnestly, like it was the most absurd thought in the universe.

“Fuck no.” He shook his head, “He could never. Likes someone else and all that bullshit.”

Stolas frowned. “What makes you think such?”

“He told me.”

At the moment, the prince felt many things. Relief, because his Blitzy did not belong to someone else quite yet. Confusion, because he couldn’t imagine a reality where his darling wasn’t the most desirable man one could lay their eyes upon. And anger, because there was someone out there that had everything he’d always wanted right there and fucking ignored it, looked past it. Someone out there had the affection and love of the most wonderful, most perfect living being in this universe and had zero intention to do anything about it if not overlook it to chase some other pointless fling, because everything he could ever want was right there, in front of their very eyes. And perhaps a hint of sadness, too, because he knew first hand just how much it hurt to not be loved as intensely as you did, and he never wanted his beloved to be upset.

“Has he now?” He murmured instead, coming to cup Blitzø’s cheek with his palm, as he’d done many times. “I’m sorry, Blitzø. I’m aware of how much it can hurt.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not loved back, either. As I said.” He dropped his hand. “I guess it’s just what the stars wish.”

A grimace spread over Blitzø’s face, and his tail swished to the side rather quickly. “That’s fucking bullshit.” He grumbled, “Who wouldn’t like you?”

Lord, he pleaded, strike me down now, kill me, vaporize me, it’d be a lot less painful than whatever in this hell you’re putting me through now.

“Him, apparently.” He managed a bitter smile. “I can’t blame him.”

“Bullshit.” The imp kept on insisting, shifting back and forth on his knees, almost nervously, if he hadn’t known better already. “You’re — you’re a fucking prince! Who the fuck wouldn’t want you?”

You. “Him. Apparently.”

Blitzø stared at him, then sneered and let himself fall forwards, right on top of his torso. Imps, as far as Stolas knew, were born to tangle together, to touch, to feel each other’s skin. Blitzø had always been, in every sense the word might suggest, a cuddler. One whom loved to snuggle, to hug, to touch and be touched back. And they’d cuddled before, so many times, but something about Blitzø’s muscular arms wrapping so tight around his middle, this time, had his thoughts spiraling for the merest second.

“Fuck him.” He muttered at last, “he doesn’t fucking deserve you.”

Shaking ever so slightly, Stolas wrapped his arms back around him. “I believe the object of your affection does not, either.

“He’s just a fucking idiot.” He heard him snort, “But it ain’t his fault.”

He hoped the sound of an heart shattering wasn’t audible.

“I still stand by what I said.” He forced out instead of crying, because Blitzø needed him, and he was going to be there for him no matter what. “You’re — so much, Blitzy. I’m sure he will see it too. Eventually.”

A shrug, a deeper snuggle. Blitzø let out a hum, undoing the first buttons of Stolas’ regalia like it was the most normal thing in the world, allowing his chest feathers to come out and burying his face in them. Stolas’ hand, perhaps automatically, raised to rest on the back of his head, talons lightly scratching the spot below his spines.

“You’re like — fucking great.” Blitzø kept going. “Objectively. I mean. Like, you’re fucking pretty, and smart, and you have a great sense of humor if I said so. And you’re, uh — kind. And — well. You.”

Heart absolutely swelling, the prince let out a longing sigh.

“Thank you, Blitzy.” He cooed, “I think you’re wonderful too.”

So, his love might not want him back. Whatever. As long as he was willing to let Stolas hold him, as long as he kept being there, as long as they loved each other, even as platonically as love could run, he would endure it.

You’re a lucky guy, he thought to the hopeless fool whom stole the heart of the most wonderful demon in all of hell and dared to not see the perfection right in front of his eyes, whoever you are, wherever you are. You’re a lucky one. I hope you’re happy with what I want more than anything else right in your ungrateful hands.

Chapter Text

Blitzø wasn’t many things.

He wasn’t funny. The blank stares he got from the crowds after each of his shows were enough to confirm so. Fucking prudes, if you asked him; unable to recognize a good and classic fucking joke if it was thrown at their faces.

He wasn’t smart, because fuck you, he was an imp, and he dared whoever doubted it to try one day in their shoes and see just what kind of shitty fucking education they were allowed to get. It was a miracle his deadbeat old man even bothered to let him learn how to fucking read, which wasn’t before he was like seven or so, and his mama had been kind enough to teach him how to properly write not too long after. So no, he didn’t know a lot of things, he didn’t read fancy worded books, and if some poor soul were brave enough to quiz him on anything he’d fucking snap their spine in half.

He wasn’t the best performer. Fizz was fucking great, loved by all of hell already — he was the true star, funny, talented, a great singer. Barb was an ace on the rope, able to keep her balance on the thinnest material while fucking running and dancing on top of it, none of the people in the audience were capable of keeping their calm when it was her turn. Blitzø, though? Nope. Nada. He might have been agile, but that was kinda… it. He’d fallen right on his ass way too many times to ignore that.

And it’s not like he was ugly, but he wasn’t the prettiest, either. His now too doomed to do anything about it teeth were yellow and covered by signature braces, he had more developed muscles on his arms than on his legs, and he did not want to talk about his posture. He’d dated before, just a few flings and a wasted first kiss, but that had been all.

He wasn’t the most brave person, either. No, he’d rather stay in a corner of the room while silently shitting his pants than to come forward in a situation. What the fuck else should he do, put on his big boy pants and get it over with? HAH. No.

But recently, or for the past six years or so, he’d been with someone who made him feel… something. Someone who laughed at his jokes, praised him for knowing the simplest fucking fun facts, clapped like an excited kid at the stupidest circus trick, gushed about him being handsome like he fucking meant it. Someone who was beautiful, elegant, talented, so intelligent he made the Seven Sins seem a bunch of morons. Someone Blitzø had… a thing for. Barely anything! Just a crush. A big crush.

And if he was head over heels in love with him it was his business to know, you fucking pervert.

It wasn’t his fucking fault. Stolas was — a lot. He was everything Blitzø wasn’t, a prince, as if everything else wasn’t already hard enough, who just had to be different from the other stuck up pricks and be so respectful and willing to be better every time he made a mistake, it made Blitzø feel all wobbly.

Stolas kept on looking up to him for the whole time they’d known each other, too. Like Blitzø was this inspiring figure that he should follow instead of look down on like anyone sane would with an imp. Kept on with his oohs and ahhs at everything he fucking did like it was something soooo worth the fuss, and not tying his fucking shoes.

Maybe it was what he liked about him, though. Stolas was the most powerful person he knew, yet he was so — gentle. He acted like an oblivious idiot and actually listened when Blitzø talked, smiling and commenting at the right times without making it seem like he was pitying him, like he was genuinely interested on something he didn’t fully understand.

But Blitzø also wasn’t a fucking idiot.

His feelings had, admittedly, hit him right in the fucking face one Saturday afternoon while thinking about Stolas one second too long. He hadn’t planned this, and it was already bad enough he’d let himself live with the feeling and didn’t rush to move the fuck on. Whatever, he’d thought, it will pass. Who fucking cares? Everyone gets crushes for their friends every now and then. But they pass.

This one did not pass. It grew, and now he was lucky if he could function like a normal person around the bird. Stolas became the reason he aimed to be better each day, the reason he went from a grumpy piece of shit to a cheerful guy. At some point, he learnt to live with it.

In silence. Hidden from anyone else.

Stolas didn’t know shit about this, and he didn’t have to know shit about this. If he did, it’d be the end of everything — friendship, tension, what fucking ever, because then things would get all awkward and Blitzø would have rather shoot himself in the groin.

And, well, it wasn’t like Blitzø was… the most subtle person on earth. Barb and Fizz clocked it since he was a kid, and that was embarrassing enough. But then Stolas just had to grow up and be so fucking perfect talking around him became literally impossible, and fuck, Blitzø was just so sure that he must have had a few suspects about his feelings by now. The prince was always so damn calm and collected, rarely raising his voice if not when provoked, and never showing a clear reaction if not a bunch of mixed signals or — Blitzø’s personal favourite — a delicate, rosy blush covering the upper part of his cheekbones. And that was. Well. All.

Stolas may have been an oblivious idiot but he was also so fucking smart, there was no way he wasn’t gonna understand what was going on sooner or later. Blitzø really did dread it, but what else was he supposed to do? Not stare at him like he was the solution to all his problems? Not stutter like a fucking idiot whenever he smiled? No, it would take a braver demon for that and Blitzø was not so strong.

And in all honesty, whatever. So fucking what. He got his heart broken on a daily basis because Stolas was a dramatic asshole who couldn’t stop yapping about knights and saviors and whatever the fuck without even looking at his direction in a romantic way. Whatever. He was his friend, his best fucking friend, and he had all intention in cherishing that. He wasn’t that ungrateful to throw away the best thing that could ever happen to him.

Stolas did care for him. That was clear. Every year for his birthday he’d give him a bunch of stupid fucking letters about how much their friendship meant to him and Blitzø totally did not cry about it once or twice nor kept all those papers hidden under the bed to this day, absolutely not. But he was kinda flattered, and maybe, just maybe, felt so comforted by knowing that the person he cared about the most cared just as much about him in return. He knew it wouldn’t last forever. Better to relish every second of it before it ran dry.

So one thing was sure — he loved Stolas. He loved this dumb, beautiful bird, make it platonic, make it horny, make it romantic, there was some kind of love in there that he was sure would never run out.

Even when the prissy bastard ignored the fuck outta him.

“Stolas.”

No reply.

“Stolas. Stolas.”

He poked his arm once. Twice. Thrice.

“Stolas. Stolas does reading make you fucking deaf? Stolas.”

For a prince, Stolas was real fucking snippy. Like, very. A prissy bitch, but he was his prissy bitch, so it was allowed. It was only natural, the way he started absolutely grinning with amusement when the other snapped his book shut, sending a gorgeous glare in his direction. “It’s supposed to stimulate focus,” A sigh, “however it isn’t the easiest task to accomplish when there is someone trying to take it away.”

“Whoa, who’s that?” His smile spread, “Sounds like a real asshole.”

“He is. Quite impatient too.”

“I hope he’s sexy enough to make up for it.”

Stolas’ cheeks colored a pretty pink the second those words left his mouth, accompanied but a resigned, yet somewhat amused scoff that made Blitzø feel warm all over like the pathetic simp he was.

“Perhaps in a dream.” The prick mocked, “A deep, prosperous, quite imaginative dream —”

He scoffed. “Fuck you.”

“I’d rather if it was someone sexy doing it.”

Sometimes Stolas went from a shy damsel in distress that felt too shy to say a bad word, to a kick-ass bastard that did not dare to think twice before blurting out whatever was gong on in that big brain of his, and Blitzø felt so proud yet so caught off guard whenever that happened that he couldn’t help but burst out laughing each time.

He let himself roll over to the pillow next to where the prince was sitting, his tail wrapping around the book to throw it on the other side of the bed just in case Stolas got the stupid fuckin’ idea to go back to reading.

“We can say goodbye to the focus.” The owl said, a small roll of his eyes that made Blitzø smile wider.

“Thank fuck.” He rolled onto his stomach. “C’mon, Stols, the fuck did you invite me here for?”

He loved it, when Stolas smiled. Call him mushy, call him a sappy asshole, but he just had a way. A way to curl his lips, a way his beak had to show its line slowly spreading over his face, a way of scrunching his round and puffy eyes that made his cheeks look fuller. And it would take a tougher person not to melt, not to absolutely crumble on the ground with adoration each one of his veins.

“I recall you barging through my window instead.” Stolas mused, and Blitzø managed to snap out of his trance and let out a snort.

“I didn’t mean today?”

“When, then?”

“Mh,” Blitzø pretended to think about it, “six years ago? Bad mistake if you ask me.”

Stolas laughed, that beautiful laugh of his that caused small, almost unnoticeable hoots to slip out of his mouth, long, elegant talons lifting to cover his pretty mouth. Blitzø swooned.

“Alright, then.” The owl shifted, knees resting against his chest and tucking his arms below his chin. Blitzø was not a pervert, and he could definitely go five minutes without staring at his best friend’s legs for more than five minutes, okay? Fuck off. “What else would you like to do?”

Kiss you. Talk to you. Hug you. Kiss you. Gossip the fuck outta those stuck up pricks. Kiss you. I want to kiss you. Please let me kiss you. Just one kiss—

“Anything that doesn’t involve those boring ass books would be dope.” He cleared his throat. “Unless you were reading one of your porny scenes —”

“They’re not porny!” The way his cheeks flushed told him it was, in fact, porny. “They’re — heavily passionate. There is a difference.”

“Huh uh.” He stuck his tongue out. “That why you never let me have a peak?”

Which was… not a problem! It’s not like he stayed awake late at night thinking about what Stolas could ever be so obsessed with to not read anything different, that would be just pathetic. Stolas was totally, 100% allowed to have his privacy and not tell him about what the fuck had him smiling so wide all the fucking time, and he totally didn’t desperately want to know what he’d like most when being courted. Nope. He was fine with being kept in the dark about it.

Completely.

“As if you’d understand a word of it.” The prince clicked his beak, flicking his fingers against Blitzø’s forehead, “One sentence and you’d be deep asleep.”

Blitzø was not going to pass on an occasion to touch him, and closed his claws around his wrist, glaring without any true heat. “Fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“That you lack in the necessary taste for actual literature, what else?”

“Fuck off.” Blitzø released him with a huff, “Your idea of actual literature,” He mocked, because Stolas’ accent was that fucking adorable stupid when he acted all prissy, “is two grown ass adults sobbing and sucking faces under some fuckin’ storm or whatever the fuck.”

Stolas had the guts to look all offended, as if he hadn’t been the one forcing Blitzø to watch hours of those shitty movies. And really, he’d do anything for him, but there was only so much he’d be able to stand before falling asleep. “Kissing under the rain is romantic, you brute!”

“Yeah, if someone wants to get a fucking cold!” Blitzø protested, “At least bring an umbrella —”

“There aren’t umbrellas when two people rush out of a room, Blitzy!”

Satan fucking fuck. Stolas just wouldn’t drop that stupid nickname since the moment they’d met for the first time, and it would be fine if it didn’t sound so sweet and adorable and made his voice curl around it like a deadly combo of sugar and honey and —

“Would you think of getting one when the love of your life is running away from you?”

That — should not have made his heart drop all the way down to his ass.

Because, fine, maybe this was a scenario he thought about often. Stolas realizing he wasn’t enough, Stolas understanding he didn’t want to be friends with him anymore, Stolas leaving. Stolas arriving to the point of having to run away from him because there is no other way to be left alone. Who in their right fucking mind would enjoy reading something similar, Blitzø didn’t know. Or, well, he did know one person who did, a big dramatic idiot with no fucking taste. He loved him anyway.

He repressed a shiver, and his face twisted into a grimace. “Why the fuck would he run away from me?”

Something in Stolas’ smile faltered, but it was so quick Blitzø wondered if he hadn’t just imagined it.

“Because, darling,” His tail flicked before he could stop it, Satan fucking dammit, “what’s a food romance without a misunderstanding?” He sighed longingly. “The tension, the drama! The doubt of the will they won’t day. The constant fights over something so simple —”

“Stolas.” Harder than himself, Blitzø stopped him, placed an hand on his shoulder. “It sounds miserable as fuck.”

He noticed his pout, and rolled his eyes. “Who would read something like that?”

“This is why you’ll never read anything from my library, dear.” Stolas scooted away, and he tried to hid e his disappointment. “I’m afraid you lack of the required taste for —”

“Badly written porn.”

“—traditional romance.” He glared, “Stop referring to it like that.”

“They fuck, you read how they fuck! It’s porn!”

Stolas, ever the dramatic bitch he was, flopped back on the pillows, his signature pissed pout crossing his beak.

“I’m never sharing anything else with you.”

With a roll of his eyes, Blitzø scooted closer. “C’mon, you drama queen.”

“I’m merely doing you a favour!” He exclaimed, way too exaggeratedly if you asked him, “Since my taste seems to bother you so much —”

“Fuck off, I never fucking said that!” Blitzø raised on his elbows. “Are you seriously mad at me?”

’Course he wasn’t.

“I don’t know, am I?” Ever the terrible liar, Stolas tried horribly to mask a smile. “Perhaps. Maybe I can forgive you. If you ask me nicely.”

Oh, I could. If you could open those chicken thighs I’d fucking show you—

He flopped on top of his legs, because those were the most comfortable pillow after his chest feathers in this hell, stretching and letting a few of his bones pop before musing, “You can’t stay mad at me.”

Stolas’ voice stuttered. Blitzø smiled. “And, by grace, who could be saying such?”

“Fucking mother nature.” He grinned wider. “Stronger than you or some shit. You love me too much.”

He saw Stolas’ eye twitch, totally not freaking out about it. He might learn to keep his mouth shut, some time. Maybe. He really fucking should.

But come on, they were friends. Friends love each other. Right? And it wasn’t the first time they said that to each other, even if maybe Blitzø did not mean it in a platonic way, there was no way Stolas could know. He chose to believe that for his own sanity.

“Fuck you.” Stolas just said, “Get off my lap.”

“One day.”

“You’re heavy.” He poked Blitzø’s forehead without any of the real force Blitzø knew he had. “Get off.”

Gladly. “In front of you? Yuck—”

“Blitzø!”

Forcing himself to roll away from his thighs, Blitzø let himself pause for a second, gaze turning to the book that had now fallen on the ground after the way they’d fucked up the sheets. Stolas seemed so fucking into it. And he was… well. He was cute, when he got all excited. Like he started all shy and became a yapping monster the second he got into it, and his eyes tended to sparkle with excitement and he gestured like crazy and his voice pitched and — yeah. Yeah. He wanted to see him like that.

“So what was that one about?” He asked, laying next to him.

Stolas hesitated. “I thought it wasn’t of your interest.”

“You like it.” He was quick to say, “I like it too. Uh.” Be smooth. Be smooth. “When you’re having fun and shit.”

Oh, yeah, real fucking smooth, you fucking idiot.

Stolas didn’t have pupils, his eyes a simple pool of red that he’d gotten better at reading the more they hung out. But sometimes, when he was real fuckin’ shocked about something, two small white points would appear right in the middle of those cherish hues. Right now they trembled right after the words, like he was fucking moved by them, and Blitzø’s chest felt a little lighter.

“Ah…” He was always so quick to compose himself. Blitzø envied that. “It was nothing, really — just, the usual. Two guys —” He flushed, “—people! Uhm, two people meet up and —”

Blitzø snickered.

“—they fall in love. I suppose.” He took a breath. Cute. “After quite a ton of drama and misunderstandings. Did you know one of them considers getting with their lover’s sibling? Pointless love triangles are my least favourite kind.”

He was getting into it, just like he knew it would happen. So Blitzø smiled, laying more comfortably on top of his arms. “Huh uh.”

“What I mean is, what’s the point? He’s already in love! Why considering the idea of someone else?”

His hands were starting to move more with each word said. He wondered if it was even on purpose, even if he honestly doubted so. Stolas just liked moving, for someone that had been taught to stay still his whole life, and what else could Blitzø do except feel so fucking proud of him? He loved to see how comfortable he got, how more and more willing he was to break the margins. “Totally.”

"I would understand if he was just trying to move on, but it was so clear he was liked back!”

Satan, he looked so beautiful. There was something so pretty about the way he was so enthusiastically annoyed about some crappy, badly written book, something that made his eyes sparkle and his face light up. He felt himself fall a little harder. “Mhmhh.”

“I just don’t get it. I certainly could never desire to pursue anyone different from the man I love —”

It was a moment.

A moment where Stolas’ voice cracked, where his shoulders tensed, where his hands unconsciously slapped in front of his mouth, where his eyes widened in a flash of panic. Where Blitzø felt himself go still, maybe for a second too long, so much so Stolas’ panic seemed to worsen more.

“I mean —” Stolas cleared his throat. Too quickly, too nervously. Blitzø felt his heart drop. “Hypothetically. If I ever —”

Some time ago, when they were still dumb kids that thought everything was possible, the two of them swore they would always say everything to each other. Surprisingly enough, they’d always kind of respected that — Stolas was the first one Blitzø came to when something was wrong, when he’d fucked up, because he’d always been ready to listen to his side of the story before judging. Blitzø was always the first one to receive a call whenever Stolas’ shitty fiance had been too much of a cunt, when his father had gone too hard on him and he needed to let everything out. Always, up until today, apparently.

Blitzø felt a lot of things at the moment. Hurt, because his best friend wasn’t trusting him with such an important thing. Anger, because how dare. On top of all, a deep sense of ugly, hurtful, unwanted jealousy spreading through his veins like blood.

He shook his head to not let himself growl like a fucking idiot. “Hold the fuck on. You like someone?”

“I—”

“And you never told me?!”

Stolas let out a whimper, his hands shifting from his mouth to cover his face completely, sinking further into the pillows. “Hey, No—” Blitzø grunted, raising on his knees to grab at his wrists and try to pry them off his head. “You don’t get to fucking hide from me after that! I’m your fucking best friend!”

“Please just drop it.” Stolas pleaded.

“I’m not dropping shit!” He kept on pulling. “Stolas.”

“Blitzø.”

“Do I know him?”

“Him?!” He squawked, his hands finally dropping and his eyes opening wide. “How would you ever—”

Blitzø just stared at him, deadpan. It’s not like they’d ever had a conversation about this, but well. Look at him. Blitzø loved him, but Stolas was the kind of person that just emanated “I’m gay” energy.

“Stolas.” He said, “Are we still gonna pretend you’d ever look at a girl?”

The owl just looked to the side, looking so fucking dejected and sad Blitzø actually felt bad for a second. Only a second.

“Stolas.”

“It’s not important.” He interrupted. “It’s just a crush. Barely a crush! I just.. find him cute. He’s just very — appealing as one would say, just quite my type, I would assume, but that’s — quite irrelevant...”

Ah.

Hahah.

Hahahaha.

Hah. That was. Great. So fucking great. It was fine. Blitzø was used to being a performer. He could control his reactions. He could totally keep a straight face instead of fucking drop on the ground and sob like the pathetic loser he was. He could easily not go and find whoever this mister nice picture perfect guy was and beat him the fuck up until he didn’t have the guts to look at his pretty bird anymore.

“So, well—” Stolas mumbled, cheeks flushed, “Let’s just change the subject —”

“What does he look like?” He blurted out before he could shut his stupid mouth up. Satan.

Stolas paused. “Pardon?”

“Him. Mister fucking perfect.” He heard himself snarl, and took a breath. “Is he pretty?”

The prince hesitated. “What makes you ask that?”

“Just — Wanna make sure he’s worthy and shit.” He sat up straight. “You’re like —” don’t say it, don’t say it, do not fucking say it “—real fucking pretty. Objectively. Can’t just go out with an uggo.” Christ on a fucking stick.

Stolas just stared. Just stared with his big gorgeous eyes in quiet shock and the imp fought to not punch himself when tiny pupils flickered in those pools of red. He was fucked.

“The fuck is that face for?” He managed to grumble.

“You think I’m pretty?”

Fuck.

“I mean — yes?” He winced. “Like, of fucking course you are.”

“Oh.” Was all Stolas said in return, and Blitzø died a little more on the inside. The atmosphere felt almost awkward with all the tension growing, and he looked back at the other — at those hesitant eyes, at his fidgeting fingers against the sheets.

He took a breath, “Me too. Y’know.”

“Mh?”

“Me too.” He felt his face heat up. “I — like someone. Too. Y’know.”

Stolas fell quiet.

“Oh.” He then muttered, “You never — told me such.”

“Yeah.” Blitzø grumbled, “I’m a fucking hypocrite.”

A smile spread over Stolas’ lips. Not one of his big, beaming smiles — something smaller, that didn’t reach his eyes. He decided to not comment on it. “Is that so? Do I know them?”

Unfortunately. “Maybe. Don’t fucking know.” He hurried to say, “He’s a fucking idiot. Doesn’t even know himself.”

“I see.”

“And he’s — so fucking stubborn.” He kept on — why was he keeping on? “A blind bitch.”

“Ah.”

“Fucking —” He pursed his lips. “Pretty.” He gave in, because there were so many fucking feeling sin his chest, he had to let some out before he combusted into thin air. “Stolas, he’s so fucking pretty.”

“He sounds lovely.” Stolas let out, voice a little strained, slightly enough that Blitzø wondered if he wasn’t just imagining it. “And does he, uhm, share this affection?”

In the worst moment of his life, Blitzø almost laughed. He did let out a quiet snicker, both ’cause this was the most ridiculous conversation he’d ever had, and for the utter absurdity of that thought. Stolas actually sharing his affection had been his daydream since he was what, thirteen? And it never fucking happened.

“Fuck no,” He shook his head. “He could never. Likes someone else and all that bullshit.”

Stolas frowned. “What makes you think such?”

Fucking idiot. “He told me.”

It’s not liked he’d ever actually… considered that. Stolas liking him back had been a daydream he kept visiting every night: holding him in his arms, kissing that silly beak, making him laugh, hearing him say that goddamn fucking L word. But he wasn’t that stupid to think it’d ever be reality, not with a prince. Not with him.

Stolas actually frowned for a second, looking all conflicted for a moment. Then cupped his cheek, gently, like a caress. “Has he now? I’m sorry, Blitzø. I’m aware of how much it can hurt.”

He leaned closer to the touch. “Yeah?”

“I’m not loved back, either. As I said.” He tried not to protest when the hand dropped. “I guess it’s just what the stars wish.”

Stolas. Stolas, who was fucking perfect, who was what everyone could ever be asked for. Stolas, who was beautiful and elegant and kind and smart and everything was in love with someone and that someone must have been a real fucking idiot because what the fuck?

“That’s fucking bullshit.” He snarled, “Who wouldn’t like you?”

“Him, apparently.” A bitter laugh, “I can’t blame him.”

“Bullshit.” He insisted, because it didn’t make fucking sense. “You’re — you’re a fucking prince! Who the fuck wouldn’t want you?”

“Him. Apparently.”

Blitzø was gonna fucking skin him alive.

He let himself fall forward, right on top of Stolas’ torso, like he’d done countless of times before and totally wasn’t going to overthink now.

“Fuck him.” He muttered, “he doesn’t fucking deserve you.”

He felt Stolas’ long arms wrap back around him, and sighed. “I believe the object of your affection does not, either.”

“He’s just a fucking idiot.” My fucking idiot. “But it ain’t his fault.”

“I still stand by what I said.” Stolas said, and his stubbornness was only one more reason why Blitzø adored him, so he said nothing. “You’re — so much, Blitzy. I’m sure he will see it too, eventually.”

The imp could only bring himself to shrug, and he let out a hum, his claws automatically working through the buttons of his regalia to bury his face in those soft, perfumed chest feathers. Christ on a stick, it was almost embarrassing, how quickly he relaxed, how his shoulders became less tense in a matter of seconds. But if he had the privilege of doing it, of soaking in that softness without a consequence like that son of a bitch couldn’t, he was nobody to push the occasion away.

“You’re like — fucking great.” He forced himself to keep going, because Stolas deserved it. He deserved all the compliments ever existing in that stupid hellhole. “Objectively, I mean. Like, you’re fucking pretty, and smart, and you have a great sense of humor if I said so. And you’re uh — kind. And well — you.”

You absolute fucking moron.

That speech definitely fucking sucked, but Stolas still cooed all sweetly, and his heart started beating a little faster under Blitzø’s ear, so he guessed it was okay.

“Thank you, Blitzy.” He said, and he could hear the smile in his voice, “I think you’re wonderful too.”

Whatever.

Whatever. So what if Stolas liked someone else. So what if he was gonna have to listen to him gushing about this mysterious guy from now on. The asshole obviously didn’t deserve him. Stolas was going to understand that soon.

Blitzø would be there to hold him if he cried.

Don’t break his heart. He thought, more of a threat than anything else, directed to the man he wanted to be, don’t you dare hurt him, you fucking asshole. Or I’ll fucking come for you.