The next day was… tense.
Silence had turned into straight-up avoidance. Adam was, truthfully, a little scared to dive deeper into Michael's thoughts, to try to make sense of the emotions. Scared to pay attention, because he didn't know what he was going to get when he did. Michael seemed just as hesitant, hesitant to speak, to even think the smallest thing - and the demon hated it, but he wasn't about to say anything, because he didn't even know where to begin. He felt like absolute shit, the words he'd said to Michael ringing through his head continuously, on a loop, despite his attempts to quiet them. They were careful, too careful, not to speak to each other; When they were talking to Lucifer, they took turns speaking to him, but never each other. When they weren't interacting with anybody else, one would retreat uncertainly and the other would linger. One would sleep, and the other stayed awake. Then, when the other woke, they traded off.
It was some kind of unspoken agreement, a horrible, twisted, sad routine that they both fell into, awkwardly and reluctantly. Adam bit back the things he wanted to say, swallowed down the apologies, and Michael stayed silent for fear of butting in where he wasn't wanted. He had done as Adam had suggested, and was minding his own business, and the demon hadn't thought he'd miss the archangel's constant prodding and annoying morals, but he did, more than ever.
Right then, Michael had retreated. He had buried himself along in the memories and was doing his best to pretend he was alone, while Adam, in full control, had taken to curling up in a corner of the library, a pile of books beside him that seemed to be piling up with every second. He couldn't find anything, not that he could focus on, anyway, that he was willing to read. He felt like he was drowning, to be completely honest. The guilt was eating at him - and, for a moment, he wondered if maybe this is how Michael felt all the time. Wondered if he had made it worse with the things he had said, the way he had cut the archangel down as he had.
He snapped the book he was struggling to focus on now shut and tightened his grip on it slightly, fighting every urge to rip it apart page by page. He wanted to scream, he wanted to curse, he wanted to rage and fight and tear the entire school apart brick by fucking brick and punch the walls until his hands were nothing but blood and bone. But he found that that anger, that pure, constant fury, had been redirected straight to himself. He was used to getting angry at himself, during his brief moments of weakness, but now it was just constant. Now it wasn't just rage, it was hatred. He wanted to hurt something, but he wanted to hurt. He wanted to punish himself - which, I mean, was stupid, right? The guilt was enough of a punishment.
And even then, with all this anger, all he did was sit there. What was he supposed to do, anyway? He felt like he had been ripped in half, and his other half was currently hiding away. He had never felt more alone than he did then, and he'd had been stuck with that feeling since the moment those stupid, irrevocable words had left his mouth. He had really fucked up then, and he didn't know how to go back and make it better.
"With the way you isolate yourselves, you might as well have stayed in the Cage."
The demon blinked, immediately lifting his gaze from the book. Michael didn't rise - he had probably fallen asleep, to be completely honest. Adam struggled not to visibly falter at the thought. He already felt hollow; No way that could get any worse, especially now, but it just made him feel even guiltier than he already had. Slowly, he looked away again and put the book down again, adding it to the pile. He couldn't focus, and he certainly wasn't about to try now. "Hello to you, too, Lucifer," he muttered. "Whattya want?"
"I want to know what's up with you and my brother, Adam." Lucifer quirked an eyebrow at him, folding his arms over his chest. The demon didn't respond, slowly reaching back and pressing his hands against the wall to heave himself up off of the floor, a little unsteady on his feet as he did so. "It doesn't take a genius to see the tension here. And after that little spat yesterday…"
"You heard that?" Adam demanded, narrowing his eyes a little bit now, a frown tugging at his lips. For a moment, he almost retreated, but he refrained, simply because Michael was still in there somewhere. Whether he was asleep or not, Adam didn't want to risk it. He didn't want to risk seeing his face, the hurt in his eyes, the hurt he had caused - the demon clenched his teeth and looked down, unable to keep his eyes focused on Lucifer for long.
"I heard some," the Devil admitted dryly, "didn't wanna say anything, since the two of you already seemed awkward as it was. Trouble in paradise, I presume?" At this, Adam rolled his eyes, and Lucifer only chuckled a little, slow and sharp. "Only joking, you know that. Really, though, I'm tired of the games. It's weird, watching the two of you dance around each other. Especially considering you're sharing the same body." He paused. "For now, at least."
"It's none of your-" Adam stopped, froze, and slowly lifted his gaze again as that last part finally registered. For now? The hell did he mean by that? He wanted to question it, he wanted to know, but he couldn't force his mouth to open, couldn't force the words out. Instead, he only stared, and Lucifer merely tilted his head ever so faintly to the side in response.
"Damn business?" Lucifer replied sweetly, and Adam's eyes sharpened. "Yeah, poor Adam, everybody's all up in his business. Must suck, having people care about you that much. How do you live like that? I just can't imagine it." The Devil turned away, toward one of the bookshelves. Adam just stared, the rage bubbling in his chest slowly turning in Lucifer's direction. "And that's why you're pushing everyone away, right? The Winchesters, Michael…"
"It is none of your damn business what I do, Lucifer," Adam snarled back in response, finally losing his patience - not that there was much to lose. With Michael asleep, there was nobody to stifle his rage, nobody to calm him. Lucifer just turned his head in the demon's direction, unfazed. "Get off my back, for fuck's sake. What's it to you, anyway?"
"You're a coward," Lucifer said simply, his tone flat. "Hiding behind a mask of arrogance. Pushing away anybody who tries to get underneath because you can't stand the idea - not just of someone caring about you - but of you ending up reciprocating those feelings. You're scared. Because you actually give a shit about my brother - and, hell, maybe you even give a shit about your own. And, right now, you're scared of getting close, but you're also scared of pushing to the point where you end up losing them forever." A strange tone had entered Lucifer's voice now, and Adam had long fallen silent, his hands shaking slightly as he listened. "And so you'll make mistake after mistake, one harsh comment after another. You'll tear both of you down until there's nothing left to destroy - and then, finally, when it's over, you'll both be alone again."
"What," Adam's voice shook, whether from anger or from pain, he wasn't even sure of at that point. Both emotions were pounding in his chest now, enough to make him want to rip his own chest open and tear his heart out with his hands. Instead, he just stood still, the tremor spreading from his hands to his arms. "What are you talking about?"
"You and Michael. You're so perfectly… disgustingly codependent on each other, anyone with half a brain could see it," Lucifer snorted, leaning sideways against the bookshelf as he turned his attention back to the books, scanning them slowly. "But even the strongest strings can snap, pal. My brother is pretty much less than stable at the moment, and you? You're holding yourself together now, sure, but once Michael's gone… well, how long do you think it'll take for you to self destruct? An hour? Two?"
Adam just stared at him, not knowing what to say. Partly because Lucifer was right, but also because he didn't quite understand. Once Michael's gone? The demon hesitated, watching as the Devil continued to flick through the bookshelf, seeming bored as ever. But, finally, even his own reluctance couldn't overpower the itching, curious fear lingering in the back of his mind. "Okay, what- what do you mean by that? Once Michael's gone?" He finally demanded, stepping forward. "You think- you think he's gonna leave because of this? You think…"
"Leave, sure. Break down, go insane, drive himself nuts again - all good possibilities," Lucifer replied easily enough, as if this was a normal conversation, as if they weren't discussing his brother's sanity. Adam just stared at him as he went on, "either way, if you two are as reliant on each other as I've seen thus far, you'll both end up cracking sooner or later. Michael's a ticking time bomb, he's already half insane - and you?" He tilted his head toward Adam, but didn't turn away from the bookshelves. "Well, you'll go down after he does. If you're not leaning on each other for support, you're collapsing - and if one collapses, the other will."
Adam stood still, but his entire body was shaking now. The only thing keeping him from lunging at Lucifer was the pain throbbing through his chest, his own sickeningly twisted guilt clawing at his stomach. He couldn't think, and he certainly couldn't think clearly enough to attack. So he just stared, blankly, as Lucifer pulled a book off of the shelf, turning it over to check the title. He must have found whatever it is he had been searching for, because he smiled, satisfied, and turned to leave. Only to pause before he could even take a step, looking back over his shoulder.
"But, hey, think of it this way, if you want to." The Devil smiled, cold and cruel. "You were doing just fine before you met him… and you'll do just fine once he leaves."
With that, he left Adam feeling even sicker.
It took a while, after Lucifer had gone, for the rage to catch up through the confusion, the pain, the shame and the guilt. It took a while for the fury to start brewing again, because he had lost himself completely in that conversation, in the terror that Lucifer was right, that if they didn't fix things soon, then maybe they were both goners. And yet, even then, something continued to hold him back. It wasn't pride - he'd throw his pride out the window ten times over if it meant he didn't have to feel like this anymore. It was terror, keeping him back, keeping him away from Michael. The fact that maybe it might be too late, that the damage was irreversible, that the archangel would never, could never, and should never forgive him for the things he had said.
He had never hurt Michael before. He'd never wanted to. Everyone else had, but Adam hadn't. Sure, he snapped at him every once in a while, but he'd never tried to cut deep like he had yesterday. So what was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to apologize for that?
The anger came only when he realized how right Lucifer was. At least, on his end, Adam was driving himself crazy. He was spiraling, he was collapsing.
And when that anger came, at that revelation, Adam snapped.
He reeled back, then abruptly slammed himself forward again, kicking the pile of books he had stacked up beside him. The force not only knocked the pile over, but it sent several of the books flying through the air, slamming into walls and bookshelves. But that was only the beginning; Adam was still raging, still spiraling, and he wasn't done next. The next thing he kicked was a chair, breaking two of the legs off as it, like the books, went crashing into one of the bookshelves, which rocked, tilted, and tipped over from the sheer force.
He grabbed one end of the table and flipped it over completely, letting it crash to the floor. The wood cracked at once at the impact as the demon slammed it down, several pieces flying off, but he still wasn't satisfied. Still, the most he did was snap off one of the legs, chucking it toward one of the remaining bookshelves, before finally giving in and letting himself crumple to the ground with a choked, frustrated, distorted snarl.
Adam couldn't take it. The fury, the pain, the guilt, it was all too much, too far. And it hurt, it hurt worse than anything the demon had ever experienced; Worse than the news of Lucifer's death, worse than the torture he had experienced in Hell, worse than being trapped in the Cage, worse than, even, being abandoned by his own brothers. It was strong, and intense, and infuriating but agonizing all at once and with each passing second it only intensified. And it hit him all at once, no restraint, no hesitation. Just pure, torturous, and unfixable - or at least, that's what it felt like. That's what he felt like. Unfixable.
The demon slammed his fist into the floor and sank back on his knees, pressing his other hand over his mouth. His eyes stung, blurry with the tears that, even now, he still refused to let spill. They stayed exactly where they were, still swimming through his eyes, still trapped - because, no. Adam would rage, and he could snarl and scream and he would hate himself as much as he was capable of, which was a lot, but he wasn't going to let himself show that kind of weakness.
So he just sat, surrounded by the mess he had made. And he sat until, finally, when that rage proved to be only getting stronger, he decided to retreat. He decided to retreat, because it was what Michael would have told him to do; To step back, to calm down, and think. And even if he wasn't talking to him, even if they were avoiding each other like the plague, that was what he wanted to hear; The calm reassurances, the soothing reminders. And the fear that he wouldn't ever hear anything like that from the archangel again was another reason why he retreated now.
It was funny how he only ended up listening when Michael was silent.