As Henchman was taking an evening stroll through Hell's main quarters, a strange noise stopped him in his tracks. As his ears perked up, he recognized the distant sound – soft, muffled whimpers slipped out from under his boss's bedroom door.
He turned the knob before gently pushing the door open, a sliver of light from the fiery hallway illuminating the darkened chamber. His lips curled into a sorrowful frown as he took in the sight before him; The Devil, the most feared being in all of the Inkwell Isles, curled up under a crimson, velvet bedspread.
"Boss?" He muttered, taking cautious steps as he approached. He wanted nothing more than to comfort the demon, but he knew well enough to ease into it. The Devil wasn't one to accept kindness so easily, even from his closest associates.
He hesitated before continuing, "...can I come in?"
The Devil grumbled, shifting under the covers. After a moment or so of silence, he muttered something under his breath, which Henchman could barely make out as a soft 'yes'.
Henchman walked over before plopping down on the edge of the bed, twiddling his thumbs awkwardly. This experience wasn't new to him – the Devil had these sort of meltdowns every now and then – but it never got easier.
He hates seeing him upset, because it makes him upset, too.
Because he cares.
"So, uh…" He began, trying to find a natural way into conversation. As he opened his mouth to speak further, the blankets shifted, and the Devil emerged. A somber look was painted on his face, crimson tears dampening his fur.
"They're back." The Devil mumbled, turning his head to avoid meeting eyes with the imp beside him. His typically flamboyant, confident demeanor had practically vanished, replaced with one of shame and sorrow.
As Henchman began to ask what exactly the demon meant, his gaze shifted to a mass beside the Devil that he hadn't noticed prior. Dark, tattered wings were folded against his back, along with countless scars, which were scarcely cloaked by his matted fur.
Henchman's expression softened, a subtle smile pressing on the edge of his lips in an attempt to cheer up his solemn companion.
"D'aww, Boss, it's alright. I mean, if you ask me, I…" he paused, his cheeks flushing as he tried to find the right words.
"I think they're beautiful."
The Devil looked up at him, his eyes illuminated by a sudden spark of emotion. His heart fluttered for a moment, but his indignity returned in an instant.
"... that's the problem." He muttered, another wave of crimson tears forming in the corners of his eyes.
"I'm supposed to be the Devil. I'm supposed to be feared, to be resented – but no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, it never goes away. I can't move on."
His hands firmly gripped his knees, saffron claws digging into his fur. He choked back a sob as he continued.
"I want to leave it all behind, but I don't know how. I don't want to be him, Henchman. I don't want to be Lucifer anymore."
The name alone sickened the demon to an indescribable degree. He hated it more than anything.
Henchman gently placed a gloved hand on his boss's own, meeting his gaze with a soft smile.
"You aren't… him, anymore." He uttered, softly wrapping his fingers around the Devil's clenched fist. The demon relaxed his hand, allowing Henchman to hold it in his own.
"You're you. You've always been you, and you always will be, no matter what."
The Devil locked eyes with the imp beside him, a tear trickling down his cheek as his lips curled into a soft smile.
"Thank you, Henchman."