TW: child abuse & abandonment and descriptions of panic-like symptoms.
"Knock, knock!" Lucifer's cheery voice called from the doorway of Chloe's hospital room, his knuckles drumming lightly against the metal frame to match his words.
It was ten a.m. and Chloe had been waiting for him to show up for hours, every little sound in the hallway or visit from a nurse making her heart speed up in hopeful anticipation that it would be him walking through her door, but she'd been disappointed every time.
Even though she'd begun to worry—he'd promised to return first thing in the morning and Lucifer never broke his promises—his good mood was contagious, and her face split into a grin as her worry dissipated.
She was just so happy to see him.
"Lucifer!"
His soft replying smile made her heart skip. "Good morning."
"I was starting to get worried. You haven't answered any of my texts this morning."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you," he apologized sincerely, but then his grin widened and his voice took on a melodious quality as he added, "but I have a good reason."
She raised a curious eyebrow at him.
"A surprise," he clarified.
She took in the way he'd wrapped himself around the doorframe with only his head peeking into the room, and narrowed her eyes at him in (mostly) playful suspicion. Lucifer knew she didn't like surprises.
As though he'd read her mind, he chirped, "Are you up for a visitor?"
Her head fell to the side as she regarded him, mentally sorting through all of the people he might have brought to see her. The only person she could think of was Maze, but she didn't think he'd put on such theatrics if it were her.
With an intrigued smile in place, she shrugged in acquiescence. Truthfully, she could use a visitor. She was not the type of person to be sedentary for long. It was the morning of the third day of her hospital stay, and she was already feeling antsy, tired of staring at bland cream-colored walls and itching to get home and back on the streets to do what she did best—catch bad guys.
A distraction in the shape of a visitor would be nice.
Lucifer stepped fully into the room, looking over his shoulder and nodding at the person waiting in the hallway. Her surprise visitor sauntered in behind him, a warm, familiar smile making his eyes crinkle at the edges.
"Frank!" she exclaimed.
"Hey, Chloe." The older man's dulcet voice was soft and soothing and laced with a genuine concern for her as he came closer to her bed. "How you feeling?"
She opened her arms so that he could give her a gentle hug, mindful of her injuries. "I'm okay. Feeling better every day." She pulled back. "But...aren't you supposed to be in Costa Rica on a mission trip?"
He'd been away for nearly a month, his presence noticeably absent from their lives and sorely missed.
He nodded. "I came back a few days early."
Chloe glanced at Lucifer, who busied himself with bringing a chair over toward the bed, a purposeful attempt to avoid the question in her eyes. "I hope you didn't come back for me." She wondered why Lucifer would have asked Frank to come home when she was recovering nicely. "I'm fine."
Her attention was drawn back to Frank as he spoke. "Lucifer called and told me what happened, and I was worried. We were both worried. You suffered a brain injury, Chloe. Of course I wanted to be here for you."
Her stomach twisted with guilt, deep-seated and pervasive. She knew what it was like to have a loved one on the force, was intimately acquainted with the feeling of constant worry, had lived with it for nearly twenty years. She knew the inescapable dread every time the phone rang with a call from an unknown number—had been on the receiving end of such a devastating call that had upended her entire world years ago. Being a detective was her calling, but it didn't ease the guilt that went along with it.
"Well, I hope I didn't ruin your trip," Chloe reached for his hand, "but I'm glad you're here, Frank. We missed you."
"I missed all of you, too," he replied. "And I was scheduled to fly back next week, anyway. My trip wasn't ruined, I promise."
"Okay. Good." Chloe gave his hand a gentle squeeze as she accepted the reassurance. As Lucifer brought a second chair over to her bedside, she added, "Mom should be back with Trixie soon. They'll be excited to see you."
The older man smiled at the mention of Trixie. He clapped Lucifer on the shoulder as the two of them sat. "How is Trixie?"
As Lucifer launched into a retelling of the past two days, praising her daughter's strength and cleverness and curiosity, Chloe's heart swelled with affection for him.
Frank laughed at something Lucifer said, and Lucifer smirked back at him, but Chloe didn't hear the words he'd spoken. She was too focused on how Lucifer seemed lighter that morning than he had the previous two days. Frank's presence had visibly soothed him, the worry lines that had been carved into his forehead less apparent. And she realized that maybe Frank wasn't there just for her , that perhaps Lucifer had needed him there for the support as well.
Thinking back over the pain and heartache and loneliness that had defined much of her best friend's childhood, a warmth grew within her, washing away the guilt she'd begun to feel as she watched them together. She was so thankful Frank had entered their lives when he had, thankful that Lucifer had found the loving family he'd always deserved, the family she knew he'd spent so many years desperately longing for.
—January 1995—
Chloe rolled over, groaning in frustration as she buried her face deeper into her pillow. She was typically a sound sleeper, but the wind rapped loudly at her window, persistent in its attempt to rouse her from slumber.
Lifting her head, she cracked one eye open, the blurry red numbers of her alarm clock slowly coming into focus. 12:42 am. She had to be up in just four hours to get ready for her call time. She groaned again as her head fell back onto the pillow.
Rolling onto her back, the annoying sound unceasing, the fog of sleep began to slowly clear from her mind and she realized that it wasn't the wind at all.
"Chloe? Are you awake?" Lucifer's voice carried through the thin glass.
Her eyebrows knit in drowsy confusion, her blanket falling away as she sat up. She glanced down at her pajamas—a black t-shirt smattered with tiny neon hearts and a pair of plain grey cotton shorts. She wondered if she should change. Would Lucifer laugh at the neon hearts? Would he think that they were childish?
She should probably change.
She slowly shifted toward the edge of the bed, her movements stilted and sluggish with sleep. The tapping sped up, hasty and insistent—and louder too, making her pause.
Her heart began to race at the urgency of the sound, pumping worry through her veins, clearing the last vestiges of sleep from her mind. She knew that sometimes, when things were bad at his foster home, Lucifer would sneak over and sleep in the treehouse, but he'd never come to her window before. Something must be wrong. Memories of bruises in the shape of handprints on wrists and forearms flashed before her eyes, and with one last resigned look down at herself, she reached for the curtain and yanked it open.
As her gaze landed on her best friend, her self-consciousness was immediately forgotten. He peered in at her, hand frozen mid-tap against the pane. She couldn't get a good look at him; it was too dark, and the porch light off to the side of the house did little to illuminate his features, merely casting his face in an ominous shadow. Even still, she could tell something was off.
Quickly, she moved to unlock the latch, pushing the window open. A cool gust of winter air ruffled her hair as Lucifer lifted himself up over the ledge and onto her bed, somehow making the whole process look far more graceful than it should have been. Shivering, he turned and pulled the window closed behind him.
When he turned back to her, she gasped in alarm, her eyes roaming frantically over his battered face. Without thinking, she lifted her hand, reaching for him, but he flinched away before she could make contact with the bruised skin.
"Lucifer," she breathed, tears burning hot at the backs of her eyes. "What happened?"
"What?" he asked, attempting to feign nonchalance with a forced smirk. "This old thing?" He gestured absentmindedly to the shiner that had nearly swollen his right eye shut, and shrugged. "It's nothing."
But his voice trembled as he spoke and he refused to meet her eyes.
"Don't," she whispered, her lip wobbling under the threat of a sob. She inched closer to him. "You don't have to do that, Lucifer. Not with me."
His façade crumbled as the words left her mouth, almost as if he were only waiting for her permission to break. Guttural sobs burst free from his throat and wracked his body with a sudden and violent ferocity.
It was a raw, ugly sort of crying, and the intensity of it froze Chloe to the spot, the profound anguish pinching at Lucifer's features entirely foreign to her.
He pulled his knees to his chest, white-knuckled, gasping for air between keening sobs. Rocking himself, he swayed forward, towards her, but he didn't reach out.
The concern Chloe felt at his distress finally cut through her initial shock, propelling her into action. Feeling wholly inadequate and uncertain about how to comfort him, she let her instincts take over.
"Shhh," she soothed, surging forward to wrap her arms tightly around his shoulders. Lucifer had always been tentative about physical affection, so she didn't know if it was the right move; what she did know was that, perhaps selfishly, she wanted him in her arms.
His grip on his knees loosened, and he fell forward into her embrace. He clung to her as he cried, his fingers twisting into the fabric of her shirt, balling up fistfuls of soft cotton.
Holding him tightly, she continued to whisper reassurances into his ear. I'm here and You're safe and I've got you.
He tried to bury his face in her neck, but swiftly pulled away with a wince as it put pressure on his swollen eye. Instead, he lay his unblemished cheek on her shoulder, his tears soaking into her thin t-shirt.
She rubbed his back in slow circles, the way her dad always did for her when she was upset, and eventually he quieted, his tears beginning to ebb.
"It's not fair," he managed through a hiccup, a soft whimper that was reminiscent of the Lucifer she had known as a kid. The Lucifer she knew now rarely let himself be vulnerable with anyone, even her. "What did I ever do to deserve this life?"
Chloe tightened her arms around him. "You didn't do anything," she insisted, her voice soft, but firm. "You don't deserve this, Lucifer. You don't."
Relaxing his fists, his palms smoothed the rumpled fabric over her back. She couldn't help the way his touch made her shiver.
"I miss my brothers and sisters," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. It was the first time in years he'd mentioned them to her without prompting. He didn't talk about his past much at all anymore, not since he'd come back to her.
Chloe felt a sharp pain in her chest, his heartache feeling like her own. She knew she would never really be able to understand all that he had been through, but she hurt for him all the same.
She didn't know if there was anything she could say that would make him feel better. It made her feel useless; he'd come to her for comfort, and she wanted so badly to be the one to give that to him. But the way he'd calmed down made her think that she must be doing something right, and so she settled on softly murmuring, "I know; I know," into his hair.
He rested quietly in her arms, sniffling every so often as his breathing returned to normal. After a few moments, he sat up, pulling out of her embrace. Without care, he wiped at his wet cheeks, catching the edge of his bruised eye and making himself wince.
Chloe let him retreat from the hug, but reached for his hand instead, her gaze firmly locked on his swollen eye. "Who hit you?"
He avoided her searching gaze as he hesitated, warring with himself. Finally, with a resigned shake of his head he sighed. "Todd. He was hurting Maria…and I tried to get him to stop, but then he hit me instead."
Anger erupted inside of her, surging through her veins, hot like lava—but she swallowed it down. Somehow, she knew that Lucifer didn't need her anger right now.
It didn't surprise her at all that he had gotten involved. Of course her sweet, kind best friend would try to protect his foster mom. But it wasn't Lucifer's job to protect Maria from her deadbeat boyfriend; it was Maria's job to protect Lucifer—and she had failed.
Chloe took a deep, calming breath. "Did he hurt you anywhere else?"
"No." He shook his head. "I ran out right after he hit me." His face crumpled as he tried to suppress a second wave of emotion. "I don't even know if Maria is okay." His voice broke on the last word, his eyes wet once more. "I shouldn't have left her alone with him."
"I'm glad you did. I'm glad you got out and came here," she told him, squeezing his hand for emphasis. "You did the right thing."
He looked away, and Chloe knew he was embarrassed and ashamed. She also knew he shouldn't be.
"None of what happened is your fault."
He hummed in acknowledgment, but still refused to look at her.
"Stay here. I'll be right back." She moved to climb off the bed, but Lucifer's hand shot out, quick as lightning, and grabbed her arm.
"Where are you going?" he asked, alarmed.
"Just to get something for your eye."
He relaxed, his hand falling away. "Okay."
"Be right back. I promise."
She returned minutes later, a bag of frozen peas in hand. After climbing onto the bed, she propped the pillows against the headboard, gesturing for Lucifer to join her as she settled against them. They sat shoulder to shoulder, Chloe twisting her torso to press the icy cold plastic to Lucifer's eye. He cringed at the temperature but didn't pull away, letting her hold it to his swollen face.
"I was on this show once where my character had a black eye and they put frozen peas on it, so I figured it must help," she explained softly.
"Oh yeah," he said, his lips curving into a small smile. "I remember that episode."
"You watched The Social Life?" she asked, surprised. He'd never told her that.
A light shade of pink spread across his cheeks as his smile disappeared. His own hand came up to hold the peas in place, hers falling away as he shifted away from her.
She could tell the admission made him uncomfortable, but she didn't know why. She leaned back and let her head fall against the headboard with a dull thud.
"It made me feel close to you." He spoke quietly after a moment. "I didn't know if I'd ever see you again and I never wanted to forget you."
The thought of him alone and separated from all of the people he'd ever loved, all of the people who loved him back, made her heart splinter. She was so incredibly grateful they'd found their way back to one another, and it made her chest swell with an odd sort of pride that watching her show had given him comfort during trying times—that even with everything he'd been through, not forgetting her was a priority for him.
"Lucifer…" she ventured, finding it easier to speak freely under the cover of darkness and without his intense gaze fixed on her. "You need to tell someone about Todd. My dad, maybe?"
He turned to look at her, betrayal twisting up his features. "What? No. No."
"What if he hurts you again? I know this wasn't the first time… I've seen the bruises." She'd kept quiet because he'd asked her to, but she didn't think she could anymore—not after tonight. "What if it's worse next time?"
He stared at her as he considered her words. A tear slipped down his flushed cheek, leaving a wet path in its wake. "I don't want to leave you."
Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"If I tell your dad, they'll take me away, and who knows where I'll end up. It could be on the other side of the city. And what if it's just as bad there and I'm not close enough to get to the treehouse… not close enough to get to you." His voice broke, his eyes shiny and pleading. "I can't lose you again, Chloe."
Her heart sank into the churning pit of her stomach. Lucifer was fourteen. He was still just a kid. He shouldn't have to worry about things like that. She understood his fears—he'd already lost so much, but it made her sick to think that he'd continue to suffer in an unsafe home just to make sure that he didn't lose her, too. She swallowed down the bile that had risen in her throat, acidic and stinging, all the more determined to get him to tell someone.
"Hey." His wet brown eyes locked onto hers. She knew her eyes reflected the same sadness back to him. "You'll never lose me. To the stars, you remember that? It wasn't just some childish pact, Lucifer; not to me. I meant every word. You are my best friend and you always will be. You won't lose me." As her voice broke on the last word, she took a shaky breath to get ahold of her emotions and then shook her head determinedly. "We're older now; we won't let that happen again."
"You can't know that for sure. Please, Chloe. Please don't tell anyone. I can't lose you like I lost them." He begged her like he knew her mind was made up, soft and desperate and pleading. "Please."
"Shh," she hushed him, gently brushing the tears from his face, careful to avoid his hurt eye. He sniffled, his face splotchy and wet and broken. "Shh. Lie down."
Pushing lightly on his shoulder, she urged him down onto the bed. He didn't argue, and she knew he must be exhausted. He lay on his back, and she followed, lying on her side beside him.
"Close your eyes," she whispered. He rolled his head to face her, curiosity etched into his features. "Do it."
His eyelids closed at her gentle prompting. She reached for the hand closest to her, slipping her fingers in between his. Heart pounding, she moved closer, pressing her body along the length of his arm and letting her cheek come to rest against his shoulder. He stiffened for only a moment, before she felt him release a shuddering sigh beneath her.
Silence stretched around them, heavy and deafening—only the sounds of their breathing, still raspy with emotion, breaking it. Chloe wondered if Lucifer could hear the way her heart drummed hard and fast against her ribs in the quiet room, if he could feel the thump thump thump of it against his arm.
She felt so many things, mixed and confusing—an exhilarating thrill at their proximity, at the way it felt to have her body pressed flush to his.
A dense sorrow for everything Lucifer had been through, all the pain he unfairly had to endure; a hot, burning anger at his father, at the McKees, at Todd, and at everyone else who had ever hurt him.
And in her gut, the cold sinking guilt that she was the reason he refused to get help, and also because of the way her stomach had erupted with butterflies when he'd told her he couldn't lose her again.
But above all else, she was scared of what might happen if he stayed in Maria's care.
"Lucifer," she whispered once his breathing had evened, but he hadn't yet fallen asleep. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "You can't see me…but I'm right here." With the way they were lying, she couldn't see his face, but she imagined his lips curving up into the soft smile that she thought of as hers. The mental image gave her the courage to press on. "And it'll be the same no matter where you go, no matter where you are. I'll be with you. I'll be with you always."
In the stillness of the room, she heard his breath catch. His fingers squeezed hers as his cheek came to rest on the top of her head. She felt his chest inflate with each breath he took, his warm exhalations rustling the hair on the crown of her head.
"I'm really worried about you, Lucifer. Please, will you just think about telling my dad?"
He didn't say anything for a long moment, and her eyelids began to droop, heavy with her own exhaustion. But then he hummed, the sound rumbling under her cheek. Comforted by his reassurance and knowing that for now he was safe beside her, she allowed the gentle rise and fall of his chest to lull her into sleep.
When she awoke the next morning, he was already gone.
"Uncle Frank!"
Lucifer turned in his chair to see Trixie standing in the doorway looking ready to pounce, her eyes alight with excitement and adoration as they zeroed in on Frank.
"Trixie-bug!" The priest stood from his chair, only to crouch down with his arms wide open in invitation. The bundle of energy that was the small urchin barreled toward him full force. Her skinny little arms wrapped tightly around Frank's neck, and he stood, picking the little girl up with ease.
"Frank?" Penelope asked as she appeared in the doorway, a pleased smile on her face. "I thought you weren't due back until next week?"
"I caught the first flight out that I could." He glanced at Chloe as he shifted Trixie on his hip. "Had to see for myself that our Chloe was okay."
Lucifer watched as a warm smile spread across Chloe's face. Her reaction to Frank's return had left him confused, and he'd begun to wonder if he should have urged Frank to finish out his trip to Costa Rica instead of coming home early. She was improving by the day, after all. But, perhaps selfishly, Lucifer had wanted Frank there with them, with him; had craved his calming, reassuring presence.
It made him feel better, seeing the way she smiled at Frank now. He knew that no matter the reason behind her initial reaction to seeing him, she was happy he was there. And so were Penelope and Trixie.
"Did you bring me anything?" Trixie asked, beaming and hopeful.
"I sure did!"
He carried her over to the shoulder bag that he'd dropped by the door. Bending at the knees, he squatted down so that her feet would land steady on the floor before letting her go. She waited patiently as he unzipped the bag, putting on a show of reaching his hand inside and rummaging around.
"Aha!" he finally exclaimed, "Here it is!" as he pulled a stuffed monkey from the bag and held it out to the child.
"Thank you, Uncle Frank!" She took the stuffed toy from him and hugged it to her chest. "She's so cute! What's her name?"
"The honor is all yours, Bug."
Trixie grinned delightedly, turning to see her mom's reaction. Chloe nodded at her in gentle encouragement. Lucifer watched the scene, his heart full and warm. He felt as though he was exactly where he should be—and he didn't mean some random hospital room. No, it wasn't the physical location that mattered, but the people who surrounded him—his people.
"Hmm," Trixie pondered, turning back to Frank.
Lucifer hadn't realized he was still staring at Chloe until she turned to look at him, and just like it always did, his stomach flipped when her blue eyes met his. The smile she sent him was shy, her cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink.
He smiled back at her, taking a small step closer to her bed. He wanted to hold her hand again, but he was nervous. They'd kissed twice now, once in front of her mom even, but they still hadn't talked, and Lucifer found it hard to believe that any of it was actually real. Chloe could have died and she'd been pumped full of pain meds, both of which could have made her behave in ways she normally wouldn't—in ways she might later regret.
"Mommy said they speak Spanish where you were, right?"
Frank nodded, humming affirmatively. "They do speak Spanish in Costa Rica."
"Mona is Spanish for monkey," Trixie said proudly. "So maybe Mona?"
"You know what? I think that's a wonderful name. A monkey named Mona para una monita." Trixie gazed at him adoringly, pleased by the praise from someone she so obviously admired. "Do you know what kind of monkey Mona is?"
The little girl shook her head and regarded Frank with wide-eyed interest.
The priest scooped her up and carried her over to the chair by Chloe's bed, settling her onto his lap. "She's a spider monkey."
As Frank launched into a story about the spider monkeys in Costa Rica, Lucifer slid into the chair beside them and watched them fondly.
Frank and Trixie had such a special bond, filling roles that were missing from each of their lives. Trixie had never gotten to meet her grandfather, and Frank's daughter had died tragically young, years before she would have even thought about settling down to have a family and give Frank grandchildren of his own.
He wondered if Frank saw pieces of the daughter he'd lost in Trixie. What-ifs, and should-have-beens, and missed opportunities.
Sometimes being around Trixie reminded him of what life had been like with his siblings on the compound. The youthful innocence she carried with her through life was something he missed, something he envied.
He'd tried, but he hadn't been able to protect all of his siblings. After years of therapy, he'd come to understand that there hadn't been anything more he could have done—he'd only been just a kid himself. And he'd done his best at eight years old. It gave him such an immense feeling of relief that Trixie would never have to know that kind of pain, that she had so many people in her life that loved and cared for her. He'd do anything to protect that little urchin.
Sometimes he wondered how his life might have been different if he had met Frank earlier than he had. It probably would have saved him a lot of heartache, a lot of pain. Would he have struggled the same way with addiction? Would he have such a hard time accepting love and affection from others? Would he be the same person he was today?
It was a pointless thing to ponder upon—there was no way to ever know. And he was happy with the way his life had turned out. Frank had come into it when he'd needed him the most, and while the Deckers might have saved him first, Frank had saved him just as much.
—January 1995—
Lucifer jumped as his bedroom door burst open, the sudden sound so loud that it cut through the music playing through his headphones. His attention snapped toward Todd, who stood towering and imposing in his doorway. Quickly, he shut his poetry notebook laying open on the bed in front of him, before the older man could see the words written on the page, and pulled the headphones off his ears.
"Pack your things," Todd barked as he entered the room, heading straight for the small closet tucked into the corner.
Lucifer's heart pounded at the tone of his voice, his initial confusion at Todd's intrusion making way for a sinking dread to settle in his gut. "What?"
"You heard me. Pack your things." He grabbed Lucifer's duffle bag from the closet and tossed it onto the bed.
Lucifer watched in stunned silence as Todd started grabbing his things. In went the Gabriel figurine from his nightstand, the poetry notebook from the bed, the Walkman with Chloe's Christmas tape still playing through the attached headphones that rested around his neck. He pulled them over his head and dropped them into the duffle as Todd yanked open the top drawer of the dresser and tossed some of his clothes into the bag.
"Where are we going?" Lucifer asked, a creeping fear twisting at his insides and rooting him to the spot as he watched Todd so carelessly handle his belongings.
Todd ignored the question, sliding the zipper closed on the duffle. "Come on," he said, an urgency to his tone that only made Lucifer's heart beat faster. When Lucifer didn't move from the bed, Todd grabbed his arm and pulled him forcefully to his feet.
"I'm not going anywhere with you!" Lucifer cried, wrenching his arm out of the tight grip. Todd's pupils were constricted, his speech slurred—he was clearly on something and not okay to drive anywhere. Lucifer looked at the duffle hanging from Todd's hands, beginning to put two and two together. "Maria will notice I'm gone when she gets home from work! You'll get in trouble with the social worker if I'm not here."
"I'll tell 'em you ran away," he said. "You're a troublemaker, always challenging my authority. Always getting in mine and Maria's business. Kids like you run away all the time, and no one cares what happens to 'em. No one misses 'em. You're nothing. A waste of space." Todd spat, the fluid landing with a loud splat on the wooden floor.
Lucifer eyed it with disgust. Todd grabbed his arm again, dragging him from the room and through the house. "You'll stop getting the foster reimbursement checks! I know Maria needs the money."
"You think I can't support her myself? I'm her man. She don't need you, kid."
"Stop!" he cried as they emerged into the chilly evening air. "I don't want to go with you. Stop! You can't do this!"
"Shut up." Todd shoved Lucifer toward the car and into the back seat. "I can do whatever I want."
The door slammed shut behind him.
The drive was a blur. As if in a trance, Lucifer watched the scenery fly by outside the window, the suburbs giving way to the city.
His stomach churned and his heart raced. A cold sweat had broken out on his brow, his body oscillating between feverishly hot and icy cold. He wondered briefly if he might be having a heart attack, but the worry was fleeting. While he remained acutely aware of his physiological reactions, he simply couldn't bring himself to care about any of them. His mind remained resolutely blank.
As they drove, the city around them slowly degraded, the buildings became dirtier and dilapidated, run down and falling apart.
It wasn't until Todd began to pull up to a curb that Lucifer came back to himself, his panic propelling him into action. "I can get you things, I've got connections!" he promised, frantic and desperate. "Anything you desire."
"You're just a kid. You can't do shit." The car came to an abrupt stop, Lucifer's seatbelt biting into his chest. "Get out."
"Please," he pleaded. Tears filled his eyes as the reality of what was happening sank in. Todd wasn't going to change his mind.
The older man huffed, angry and frustrated, as he climbed out of the car. He yanked the back door open with an unnecessary force, reaching in to grab for Lucifer's arm.
" Please," Lucifer whimpered, cowering backwards into the seat. The fear of being left on the street in an unfamiliar, unsafe part of the city overrode any shame he typically would have felt for the desperate way he begged and pleaded with Todd.
Todd struggled to unbuckle his seatbelt, finally pulling Lucifer from the car.
It wasn't until his feet touched the cold sidewalk that Lucifer realized he was barefoot—he hadn't thought to put his shoes on in the chaos back at the house. The sun had nearly finished setting, and a shiver tore through his body, goosebumps breaking out over the bare skin of his arms.
He blinked his tears back, what little pride he had left refusing to let them fall in front of the other man. Todd tossed the duffle bag at him, and it hit him square in his chest. He clutched it to himself, almost like a lifeline.
Todd slammed the door shut and then turned to face him. "Don't come back," he said, a pointed finger aimed at Lucifer's nose. "We don't want you."
It wasn't until the car was out of sight that Lucifer allowed his tears to fall. A light breeze ruffled his hair, and he hugged the duffle closer to ward off the chill.
He looked around, his vision blurred with tears that just wouldn't stop. He blinked them back as his gaze landed on the street signs at the corner where stood.
10th and Swanson.
