I really should be finishing my next chapter for ISSDIJSYH buuuuut something on the radio (I think) inspired me to write this and yeah. Enjoy~
"What did you wish on that shooting star?" Michael would always ask Lucifer whenever they saw one, and Lucifer would only smile.
He would never give an answer, which would bug his older brother—Michael thought that Lucifer was saying that just to annoy him.
Regardless, every night they would sit on the roof of their house and watch the stars, pointing at each one and reciting their names together, and counting the shooting stars as they glittered the sky in sparkling light.
Throughout the years, it became a game where Michael would ask the question just to ask— only a smile and a hand running through Lucifer's already-messy, sandy hair greeted him—he knew Lucifer would never answer him and was okay with that, even if it made him a bit curious. Michael would push the younger boy, pretending to be angry, but both would laugh hard afterwards and sit close, using their body heat to warm up in the chilly nights.
These are only memories now. Lucifer still sits at the top of a roof, but not the roof. He is alone and looking up at the sky with misty eyes. It has been a few years since he last saw his brother, and a few since he walked away from heated words and no forgiveness. Hatred.
He wanted to tell Michael—he wanted to tell him so bad all those years back. He wanted to smile at his brother and tell him what he had been wishing on all those years. But he couldn't get it out. His mind blanked and his throat closed.
He gives a melancholic smile at a shooting star that passes by.
All he ever wished for was for his brother to be proud of him.