Chapter Text
Stolas had always prided himself on being patient. He knew what it was like to need to be alone sometimes, god knows he had spent hours locked in Blitz’s bathroom. The imp had always been patient with him, flashing him that gentle, fond smile before offering him dinner as if nothing had happened.
Stolas loved him a little extra during those moments, so much it felt as though his heart would burst in his chest.
So, he’s willing to do the same for the imp. He waits outside the door for what feels like hours, his head lolled back against the wooden surface, sensitive ears picking up on every sound.
His heart stops when he hears the glass shatter.
He’s on his feet in seconds, pounding on the door with all his might, not caring about the bruises it’s sure to leave. He knows that noise, he knows what it means, for it could only mean one thing.
Fuck, how could he be so stupid? Blitz clearly wasn’t in a stable enough mental place to be left alone, so why had he let him sink away into a room where he would have easy access to hurt himself?
“Blitz!” He shouts. “Open the fucking door. This isn’t funny!”
All he's met with is a sob. It terrifies him beyond words. It took so much to make Blitz cry. He could recall on one hand the number of times he had seen the imp truly shed tears of agony.
“Blitz,” His voice is nearly pleading now. “Open this door or I will break it down. Please.”
Still, there’s no answer. He jiggles the handle desperately, but it’s locked; no matter how hard he tries, he can’t pry it open. He can hear himself begging, his legs feeling weak below him.
What was Blitz doing? What had caused this so suddenly? Had he missed something? Why hadn’t he noticed the imp was suffering sooner?
“Blitz, please!” His red eyes brim with tears, talons digging into the wood. “Open the door…Blitz…”
He waits exactly 60 seconds, listening for every noise inside the small bathroom. He can hear the shift of glass against the tiled floor, small droplets of liquid bouncing against the surface.
Please, let it be water.
He throws himself against the door with all his might, slamming his bad shoulder into it so forcefully he’s mildly concerned he might rip the stitches from his incident with Striker. He doesn’t stop. Not when there’s a potential Blitz’s life is on the line here.
Let him have misunderstood the situation. Someone, tell him the ideas forming in his head couldn’t possibly be reality.
On the fourth attempt, he finally manages to wear down the bolts holding the door in place enough for them to snap. The door pops off its hinges, sending Stolas flying into the bathroom.
It’s worse than he imagined.
The entire room is full of glass, broken into tiny shards. The frame where the mirror used to stand is completely empty, and all remains of the mirror are scattered across the floor.
Blitz is curled up beside the sink, a large piece of glass clenched in his bleeding hands, gripping it tightly. His arms are covered in blood, his tail wrapped around himself to make him look as small as possible. His eyes—the look in his gaze will haunt Stolas for the rest of his life—are blank and fuzzy, as if he’s seeing nothing at all. He doesn’t react when Stolas steps closer, not caring if he steps on a shard of the broken mirror.
“Blitz!” He cries, sinking down to his knees, somehow managing to avoid almost all the glass. He can feel a small piece implanting itself in his thigh, it’s the least of his problems at the moment. “Blitz. Blitz!”
He shakes the imp's shoulders, watching as the man’s grip on the sharp shard tightens. For a moment, he’s almost afraid Blitz is going to stab him, but instead, the imp drops it. Large, uncontrollable tears were dripping down his beautiful face. He sobs breathlessly, his small lungs unable to grasp the needed oxygen. Stolas feels his heart breaking in his chest, helplessness filling him. He rips the edge of his sleeve off, wrapping the fabric tightly around Blitz’s left arm. From what he can tell, that arm has endured the most damage. He gathers Blitz into his arms as gently as he can manage, trying not to disturb him too much.
He can see the imp's eyes closing, his breath slowing. He panics, cold fear wrapping around his heart. He holds Blitz closely, shutting his eyes.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you…” He whispers, voice cracking. “It’s gonna be okay, Blitz. I’ll patch you up.”
Blitz’s faint, hot breath bouncing against his neck feathers is the only response he gets.
Stolas spends the next few hours desperately Hell-searching for the best ways to treat these kinds of wounds. He scrubs Blitz clean of the blood, tying his ripped sleeve the best he can as a makeshift bandage.
He goes into the bathroom, sweeping up the shattered glass. Better to do it while Blitz was still resting, he supposed. He buries all the shards at the bottom of the trash can, wanting to be certain this won’t happen again.
He feels bile rising in his throat as he looks at the floor, the blood pooled between the tiles making him feel sick to his stomach.
Why? Why had Blitz done this? Why hadn’t Blitz told him he was hurting so deeply?
He feels tears gathering in his eyes, but he refuses to let them fall. Once he’s rid the floor of the array of glass, he exits the room, grabbing a roll of bandages from the cabinet on his way out. He looks at the now broken door, sighing. He’ll have to replace that, the mirror too. He didn’t want Blitz to worry about it.
Perhaps he should wait to get a new mirror, though.
By the time Stolas returns to the living room, Blitz is conscious. His eyes are still glazed over, hands trembling in his lap, but his face has regained a bit more of his usual color.
Stolas silently kneels on the couch in front of the couch, not making a big deal of this. He doesn’t want to risk freaking the imp out even more. He gently wraps the fresh wounds with the proper materials. To his relief, none were deep enough that he felt it was necessary to bring Blitz to the hospital. He was thankful Loona wasn’t home; she didn’t need to see her father like this. Although he felt a bit helpless in this situation. He had no idea what to say, no idea what would make this better for the imp.
Blitz doesn’t say a word the entire time, his body unusually still. His tail twitching each time Stolas applied pressure to the cuts was the only sign Stolas had that he was aware of anything at all.
“I killed my mom.”
His voice is so small, so hoarse, if he weren’t directly in front of the imp, Stolas never would have believed it was his voice.
The former prince blinks, not letting any emotion come across his face, and he keeps his focus on wrapping the cuts. If Blitz wants to elaborate, Stolas has to trust he will. After a few minutes, he’s satisfied with his work. He doesn’t release Blitz completely, but he pulls back slightly, holding Blitz’s calloused hand in his own as he moves to sit beside him on the couch. When he looks over, he realizes the imp is staring right at him with wide, scared eyes.
Oh.
Okay, so Blitz did want him to ask questions; he wanted a reaction. Well, Stolas could ask questions.
“Is that why you did this?”
The imp hesitates for a moment before nodding, pulling back completely from Stolas to wrap his arms around himself, hugging his knees to his chest. Stolas sees how he winces at the pressure on his arms. The former prince doesn’t know what to do, so he keeps his distance.
Blitz stays silent, his fade completely hidden against his arms, but Stolas can see his shoulders trembling, able to make out the muffled sobs.
Something in his heart breaks at the sight.
“Oh, Blitz…” He whispers, feeling his own eyes fill with tears at the sight of the man he loves in so much pain. “It wasn’t your fault.”
The imp's head shoots up, exposing his tear-stained cheeks, his eyes full of nothing but pure grief. He tries to glare, but all Stolas sees is desperation in his gaze. “How the fuck would you know that?”
“Because I know you .”
“Bullshit!” He slaps his tail against the couch, shrinking away from Stolas more. The owl swallows, trying not to take it personally. “I’m a fucking killer, always have been.”
“You don’t hurt people you love .”
“That’s all I ever do!” Blitz sobs. Stolas stares speechless at him. He’s never seen Blitz be so vulnerable before. This is a completely new side of the imp, one filled with such raw pain that it brought him to tears.
“That’s not true.”
“How can you say that?” Blitz sobs. “I ruined your fucking life. I fucked everything up time and time again…I…I’m the reason my mama is dead, Stolas. I…I’m a fucking monster.”
Stolas can’t hold back his tears; they slowly trail down his feathers, leaving a damp path in their wake. He forces his voice to remain steady, clenching his fists at his sides.
“If it weren’t for you, I would still be stuck in a loveless marriage, miserable beyond words, with no real purpose aside from the ones forced upon me by my family.” Stolas forces his voice to remain steady, refusing to let the emotions he’s fighting back come free. Not yet.
“You’d still have your kid.”
“How many times must we go over this?” Stolas runs his hand over his face. “That was my choice, Blitz. You didn’t force me to save you, I knew what I was getting into.”
Actually, he had gone into that trial ready to lay his life down for the man who had broken his heart, but this didn’t seem like a good time to bring that up.
Slowly, Stolas reaches out his hand, not daring to touch Blitz. It was an offering. If the imp wanted his comfort, he would give it. Blitz looks at the outstretched hand before his gaze drifts down to his own scarred one.
“I’ll hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
The smaller demon sobs, curling up tighter, seeming not to hear him at all. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Stolas slowly scooches closer, his legs briefly brushing against Blitz’s. “You won’t .” He repeats. “Whatever happened with your mother, I am positive it wasn’t your fault.”
Blitz finally looks at him, really looks at him. His face was dripping with tears, eyes full of so much pain. Stolas held his gaze, nothing but pure love and care in all four of his eyes.
Let me be the one to take care of you. His gaze says the words, unable to escape his lips. Just this once. Let me repay you.
In the blink of an eye, Blitz is curled up in his lap instead of the corner of the couch, his fingers digging violently into the back of Stolas’ sweater, his face pressed against his chest fluff. Stolas can feel hot tears dampening his shirt, yet it’s the least of his priorities right now.
He holds Blitz as close as he can manage, one hand cupping the back of his head while the other slowly rubs circles between his spikes, whispering soft nothings against the top of his head.
Loud, unfiltered sobs escape the imp's mouth, his entire body trembling as he heaves for breath, clutching onto Stolas with everything he has.
With the knowledge that Blitz can’t see his face, Stolas finally allows his own tears to fall, tilting his head up enough to keep them from dripping too much onto the imp's head.
“I’m here…” He chokes out, forcing his voice to stay steady. Given the way Blitz’s grip impossibly tightens at the words, he has a feeling his attempt to hide his tears isn’t all that successful. “I’m here, Blitz. You aren’t alone.”
He’s not sure how long they stay like that. Long enough that his thighs are numb and he’s sure there are holes in his sweater. Long enough that all the feathers exposed on his chest are damp with the tears of his beloved. Long enough that Blitz runs out of tears. Stolas makes no move to let go, and Blitz shows no sign that he wants to be released.
“Blitz…” The owl whispers finally, breaking the silence. “What happened to your mother?”
“I…” The imp’s voice is hoarse and broken, and none of the usual confidence or joking nature is showing through. No, this is a new side of Blitz, one Stolas feels honored to get the chance to meet. “There was a fire.”
Stolas nods silently, pulling away just enough from the embrace to see the imp's face. He lifts one hand up, gently cupping his cheek, rubbing his thumb against the scarred skin. “These scars…?”
“Yeah,” Blitz nods, clearing his throat. “I…it was my fault.”
“I doubt that.”
“I knocked over a fuckin’ cake,” The imp whispers. He has his eyes squeezed shut, grip tight on the front of Stolas’ sweater, as if he fears the former prince is going to throw him off. “The candles were lit. Tents weren’t fireproof. There was a box of fireworks…I…it all happened so fast…”
“Blitz…”
“It’s the reason Fizz looks the way he does,” Blitz continues, not allowing Stolas to cut in. The Goetia remains silent, realizing that Blitz needs to get this off his chest. “It’s the reason my sister hates me. I…my mama was in our tent…I…I wasn’t fast enough…I couldn’t save her…”
Stolas swallows, terrified of the answer he’s about to receive. “How old were you…?”
“16.”
The prince gasps, heart snapping in his chest. 16 . That’s younger than he was when he married Stella. That’s younger than Octavia is. That’s just a baby.
He can’t help it; he pulls Blitz back against him, clutching him tightly. How cruel could the world be? How could such a tragedy occur to that boy that it still haunted him all these years later?
Blitz goes willingly into his arms, fitting perfectly in his lap, as though he were made to be in his arms.
“It wasn’t your fault,” He whispers against his head, pressing a gentle kiss to the scarred skin on his cheek. “You were just a child, Blitz. It wasn’t your fault.”
The imp is trembling in his hold, curled up in his arms. “I miss her so much, Stolas.”
“I know…I’m so sorry, I can’t even imagine the pain you feel…” He whispers, rocking Blitz gently. “You don’t deserve to carry this weight alone, Blitz. It was an accident, you didn’t kill her. It was a horrible, horrible accident.”
The imp sobs against his chest. Stolas has never seen him weep so openly before. Blitz is putting his heart on display here, showcasing the deepest of emotions brewing in his soul.
“It’s okay,” Stolas continues to soothe. “It’s okay, Blitzy.”
The nickname slips out before he can stop it. He freezes. He hasn’t called him that since…Striker. He knew Blitz always hated it, he had been too stupid to see that, too stupid to realize how naive and condescending he had been.
He expects the imp to pull away, to shout at him, to put his walls back up. Instead, he just melts more into Stolas’ arms, his tail wrapping tightly around the owl's waist.
Stolas isn’t sure how long they have sat there. He manages to reach for the remote, shifting into a lying down position without shifting Blitz around too much. He turns on one of the imp's horse movies. Blitz doesn’t react at all.
That's perhaps the scariest part of it all.
He orders food after a while, using Blitz’s phone to get pizza delivered.
He lies on the couch with Blitz for hours, his head playing thousands of different scenarios in his head. What if he hadn’t been able to break down the door? What if Blitz had gone deeper? What if he hadn’t been lurking right outside in the hall? What if he hadn’t been fast enough to stop the blood?
He tightens his hold on the imp, pressing his forehead against the top of his head, whispering softly. “Have you done this before?”
There’s no response, which tells him all he needs to know. He forces back tears, swallowing. “You fucking come to me next time, you hear me? Don’t lock yourself away, please, Blitz. I…I can’t lose you.”
“...I’m sorry,” His voice is so tiny, so unlike the confident, unapologetic man Stolas knows.
“I know you are…” Stolas inhales. “I’m not going to make you promise not to do this again, because I…I know that isn’t fair.” He forces back the lump in his throat. “But please…Blitz, please…just…let me help you. You don’t have to suffer alone, I’m here.”
“Why?”
“What?”
“Why are you still here?” Blitz lifts his head, staring into Stolas’ eyes. “Why aren’t you running away?”
Stolas swallows. “You know why.”
“I don’t.”
“Because I—” love you, you fucking moron.
No, he can’t say that. Not now. This wasn’t the right time.
“I–...I don’t want to live without you.” He settles on. “And because I know it was an accident.”
“You’re going to regret this one day.” The imp whispers. “I’m not worth all this, Stols.”
You are worth all the stars in the night sky. You are more than whatever the people of your past told you. You don’t deserve this suffering, my darling Blitz.
He doesn’t say that; instead, he just shrugs, holding the imp's gaze. “To me, you are worth everything.”
The Goetia sees Blitz’s chin wobble, his grip tightening on the former prince. He watches as Blitz wiggles closer, wrapping all his limbs around Stolas. Stolas lets him, returning the embrace tightly.
“I’m here…” He whispers in his ear, blinking back his tears. “There is nothing you could do to change that, no matter how scary your past may be. We face it together.”
“...Okay.”
Stolas knows he can’t bring Blitz’s mother back. He can’t heal the scars that haunt him, both physically and mentally, but he can do this. He can hold him until the pain lessens, he can offer the same support Blitz has given him so freely. It was as easy as breathing.
Tomorrow, they would have to have a long conversation about Blitz hurting himself, but for today, he would just hold him.
Today, that was enough.