Yours,
Lucifer
My breath caught. Purple Rain still rang in my ear, but not nearly as loud as the words he’d written. Lucifer had bought a phone, put himself in my contacts, tuned his life to my soundtrack, and then offered a slice of normalcy I craved in a world that was anything but.
It was so unlike him that I laughed.
Or, maybe it was just like him. Maybe it was the soft part of Lucifer that no one took the care or time to see. And he’d–fuck.
“Yours. Lucifer.”
The lump in my throat didn’t budge.
…Mine?
A few hours ago, I’d let myself picture what I considered a clean version of living: keys on hooks, quiet dinners at a table with wine and homecooked meals, and the only murder necessary was that of the Thanksgiving turkey. Dinners with a man who worked nine to five, ate chili dogs at midnight, and stood between me and danger.
Then Luci came in like a blazing hellstorm and crumbled it to ash. What was more normal than decorating for Christmas, even if it was with Satan?
My body answered before my head did. Heat under my skin, excitement that I hadn’t been trained to feel but happened all on its own when Luci was near, and a hunger that wasn’t surface level; it was primal.
Lucifer remembered what I loved and what I pretended not to. He’d seen my imperfections and didn’t look over them the way Joe seemed to. The Devil was cruel and beastly when he wanted to be, but tonight, he’d chosen gentle.
He’d chosen our kind ofnormal.
And that was somehow worse because he created a space I wanted to step into. I could have the formal dinners in a pristine setting like I’d always dreamt I’d have, or…
Or I could have ramen in my bloodstained clothes. I could have the Devil in my living room untangling Christmas lights, a man who’d looked into my soul and never shied away. Only looked at me like I was brighter than the strands in his hands.
Joe felt safer, but Lucifer? Lucifer was starting to feel like home.
My fingers steadied around the phone. I tossed Joe’s twenty on the ground and walked back to the shitty apartment and the Devil I knew would be waiting there.
“It’s all starting to come together, oh mighty King of Bethlehem.”
Festive blurs of every color illuminated my apartment, warming every inch of my cold, dead heart.
I’d pulled my decorations out as soon as I’d gotten home, then couldn't stop myself from starting early, Luci or no.
I looked at Jesus to share in this joy and quickly had to hide my snort laugh via a giant gulp of carbonated grape juice. The forty pound ball of menace sat swishing his tail on the coffee table, eyes glaring a hole through my forehead while he very pointedly told me mind-to-mind how much he hated the glitter Santa hat perched atop his head.
“Come on bud, don’t be so upset. You’re the reason for the season!” I threw up my hands and did a cheerful spin to prove all of this grandeur was a good thing. “An entire month dedicated to kissing your pink starfish and buying expensive shit for people they hate. Be happy!”
His dead-ass stare was now accented by a low growl. Apparently he didn’t love the sound of my joy.
“You can be sour all you want,” I pointed with a smile, “But I know you love Christmas.”
Wham!’s classic hit,Last Christmas, spread holiday cheer throughout my home as I decorated for my favorite holiday. I hadn’t put much stock into Christmas when I was alive. Probably because I had shitty parents. As a dead girl with adult money and a lifetime to spend it, though?
Ho, ho, ho, motherfucker.
I’d spent years honing my decorative collection, strategically picking each and every item until every nook and cranny was perfection. The trick was avoiding Hallmark stores. All of that generic bullshit lacked charm.
“Isn’t that right, Boswell?”
I straightened the green scarf wrapped around the neck of my taxidermied raccoon. It was dotted with falling snow that really enhanced the sparkle in his glassy eyes and matched the elf hat sitting right between his ears. I’d picked Boswell up from Marv’s Magic Mammals last year and doctored him up a little—glittered his whiskers, sewed some fluffy mittens to put on his paws, and even attached a bell to the tip of his hat.
“You are just the cutest little fucker in this whole city,” I said and booped his nose. “I’d let you hit it.”
