[ I really like who you are, says the man who doesn't believe in the Devil and Lucifer eyes him briefly, expression somewhat mixed, two opposing feelings struggling in his chest simultaneously. One the one hand, the familiarity - the implicit acceptance - is making his heart flutter in ways he can't even begin to comprehend but then, on the other, Elio can't possibly... He doesn't even believe in Hell. How could he possibly know?
Then again, there are multiple things he doesn't know or understand with regards to Elio, too. One is the mojo immunity. Another is how, on the one hand, the man lives such a mundane life - and on the other, he seems to fit into Lucifer's world, not just Lux but in general, the celestial stuff rolling off him like raindrops on feathers, just, utterly untouched. By mundanity as well as the preternatural.
So, he sips his glass again and swallows. Says, voice a little darker than before: ]
The Devil feels familiar to you. [ He raises his eyebrow, staring at him, unblinkingly now. ] The greatest mystery of it all, isn't it?
[ He looks down at his glass, at the remains of his Scotch. Less than a mouthful left. Looks sideways again, at Elio, his expression softening into a quiet smile, borderline sad. ]
[ Lucifer stares at him unblinkingly while telling him that it's the greatest mystery of all, isn't it, how the Devil feels familiar to him, and Elio desperately wants him to understand that whatever makes him other is really what makes him the most human, the most recognizable in Elio's eyes. It's not something that needs to make sense, just as divinity doesn't. Heaven. Hell. They're Lucifer's reality, certainly, but Elio's theory. As long as it resonates, the rest is terminology and theses and he'll still read on.
After a moment to study his almost emptied Scotch glass, the other man glances sideways at Elio, Elio watching him in turn as he not-asks him where he's been. He wonders, he says. My dear, he says, and Elio finds himself smiling too, in the same quiet, sad way, shaking his head. ]
I don't know if I'm not still there.
[ A shrug.
He thinks about his parent's orchard in Northern Italy, he thinks about the backyard, Oliver calling it "heaven". Elio won't pretend his Heaven and Lucifer's Heaven are even remotely the same place and Elio can still return to his spot every once in a while, but he thinks he's managed to lose his home over the years regardless, and it feels like a shadow of itself these days, when he returns. Full of ghost spots and painful memories. Full of regret.
Not "heaven" anymore, then, it feels like.
Downing the rest of his drink, Elio holds his flat hand over the glass as the bartender drops by for a refill. After a second, he turns his head to meet Lucifer's eyes. ]
[ And it happens again - something about Elio's answer is making his heart call out in recognition, though he can't for the life of him figure out why. There's just something about it, about the way they mirror each other now, Lucifer's expression a little too old and Elio's a little too distant... It's not a sameness, exactly, but it feels odd, like they've met before in a different world and a different life.
It's just a feeling, really.
He empties his glass. The DJ changes the beat, livening up the dance floor with something that sounds like rock and drugs and mindlessness. The club, in turn, flows with it, the crowd going a little more wild whilst amidst the shadows, the drug dealers are cashing in. I don't know if I'm not still here, said Elio and Lucifer thinks, Where? and feels genuinely lost. ]
Ah, but you can't be there, not precisely. Life - [ The bartender does a refill. Lucifer's looking past him, into the mirrors reflecting the golden lights of the ceiling. ] - is change. Hard to say which way's up, which way's down, when you're mid-transition.
[ He turns on his barstool, facing the other man more fully, his knee brushing against Elio's thigh. ]
But I promise you: once you hit the ground, you'll know.
[ Once you hit the ground, you'll know, Lucifer says, which way's up and which way's down. And Elio thinks it's the single-most personal thing the man has shared with him so far in their acquaintance. How Elio's broken body will tell him. How Lucifer's told him first. ]
Will I know the way forward from there, do you think?
[ Lucifer has turned on his barstool, giving him his full attention, knee brushing over Elio's thigh and Elio presses back against him, turning as well - just an upper-body twist to show his front, his face, his hand, his cards. The implied question, of course, is: did you know, but Elio doesn't push it, doesn't force himself on the other man who isn't asking him to dig through experiences that aren't Elio's to touch, although they've been recorded for all of mankind to see. Lucifer's life is his own, he lays no claim to that.
Instead he lets his eyes trek over his features without holding his gaze, without demanding anything from him that, in reality, neither of them seem ready or completely willing to give. He looks at how the lights throw various parts of the other man's face in shadow, his eyes sinking deep inside his skull, darker than the actual darkness. Has Lucifer found the way forward, is that why he's here, on Earth, living his best life with humans who make it colorful and exciting and uncomplicated? Elio hopes that's the answer. For both their sakes.
Because, if so, being here (and not there) is a beginning. ]
[ That's probably an even better question, isn't it, whether you'll know how to proceed from there, from the earth-shattering realisation that up is down, down is up. He looks at Elio for a long moment, feeling him press back against his knee, the two of them nearly face to face like this, closer in the darkness than the mere physical distance could imply. He can't remember what it felt like, falling. Or landing. It's ancient, over and done with (but obviously, he knows, even if he won't remember) and the thought makes him draw back, as if distancing himself from the idea, the implications.
He smiles, widely and friendly and maybe a little off. Like someone who's not quite here, even though he's got absolutely nowhere else to go, caught between Heaven and Hell as he is, willfully, happily. It's fine like this. He's landed but in motion, still. ]
I really couldn't tell you.
[ With that, he pats Elio's knees lightly, feeling the warmth of him beneath his fingertips. His gaze flitters sideways as he leaves his empty glass on the counter and gets to his feet. The blonde's somewhere out there, blending in with the searching lights and he'll probably look her up then, yes, he probably should.
He doesn't think about loneliness because he's too busy countering it to take the bloody time.
And he leaves Elio behind without a backwards glance. ]
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no subject
Then again, there are multiple things he doesn't know or understand with regards to Elio, too. One is the mojo immunity. Another is how, on the one hand, the man lives such a mundane life - and on the other, he seems to fit into Lucifer's world, not just Lux but in general, the celestial stuff rolling off him like raindrops on feathers, just, utterly untouched. By mundanity as well as the preternatural.
So, he sips his glass again and swallows. Says, voice a little darker than before: ]
The Devil feels familiar to you. [ He raises his eyebrow, staring at him, unblinkingly now. ] The greatest mystery of it all, isn't it?
[ He looks down at his glass, at the remains of his Scotch. Less than a mouthful left. Looks sideways again, at Elio, his expression softening into a quiet smile, borderline sad. ]
I wonder where you've been, my dear.
no subject
After a moment to study his almost emptied Scotch glass, the other man glances sideways at Elio, Elio watching him in turn as he not-asks him where he's been. He wonders, he says. My dear, he says, and Elio finds himself smiling too, in the same quiet, sad way, shaking his head. ]
I don't know if I'm not still there.
[ A shrug.
He thinks about his parent's orchard in Northern Italy, he thinks about the backyard, Oliver calling it "heaven". Elio won't pretend his Heaven and Lucifer's Heaven are even remotely the same place and Elio can still return to his spot every once in a while, but he thinks he's managed to lose his home over the years regardless, and it feels like a shadow of itself these days, when he returns. Full of ghost spots and painful memories. Full of regret.
Not "heaven" anymore, then, it feels like.
Downing the rest of his drink, Elio holds his flat hand over the glass as the bartender drops by for a refill. After a second, he turns his head to meet Lucifer's eyes. ]
no subject
It's just a feeling, really.
He empties his glass. The DJ changes the beat, livening up the dance floor with something that sounds like rock and drugs and mindlessness. The club, in turn, flows with it, the crowd going a little more wild whilst amidst the shadows, the drug dealers are cashing in. I don't know if I'm not still here, said Elio and Lucifer thinks, Where? and feels genuinely lost. ]
Ah, but you can't be there, not precisely. Life - [ The bartender does a refill. Lucifer's looking past him, into the mirrors reflecting the golden lights of the ceiling. ] - is change. Hard to say which way's up, which way's down, when you're mid-transition.
[ He turns on his barstool, facing the other man more fully, his knee brushing against Elio's thigh. ]
But I promise you: once you hit the ground, you'll know.
no subject
Will I know the way forward from there, do you think?
[ Lucifer has turned on his barstool, giving him his full attention, knee brushing over Elio's thigh and Elio presses back against him, turning as well - just an upper-body twist to show his front, his face, his hand, his cards. The implied question, of course, is: did you know, but Elio doesn't push it, doesn't force himself on the other man who isn't asking him to dig through experiences that aren't Elio's to touch, although they've been recorded for all of mankind to see. Lucifer's life is his own, he lays no claim to that.
Instead he lets his eyes trek over his features without holding his gaze, without demanding anything from him that, in reality, neither of them seem ready or completely willing to give. He looks at how the lights throw various parts of the other man's face in shadow, his eyes sinking deep inside his skull, darker than the actual darkness. Has Lucifer found the way forward, is that why he's here, on Earth, living his best life with humans who make it colorful and exciting and uncomplicated? Elio hopes that's the answer. For both their sakes.
Because, if so, being here (and not there) is a beginning. ]
no subject
He smiles, widely and friendly and maybe a little off. Like someone who's not quite here, even though he's got absolutely nowhere else to go, caught between Heaven and Hell as he is, willfully, happily. It's fine like this. He's landed but in motion, still. ]
I really couldn't tell you.
[ With that, he pats Elio's knees lightly, feeling the warmth of him beneath his fingertips. His gaze flitters sideways as he leaves his empty glass on the counter and gets to his feet. The blonde's somewhere out there, blending in with the searching lights and he'll probably look her up then, yes, he probably should.
He doesn't think about loneliness because he's too busy countering it to take the bloody time.
And he leaves Elio behind without a backwards glance. ]