Chapter 2: Staying
"Loona."
"Hm."
"Your work?"
"Right." Loona reached down, lifted up a pile of paper with both hands, and slammed it down on the reception desk with a loud thud that made Moxxie jump and straighten his tail out. "Here you go, shithead," she snarled, immediately returning to her phone.
Moxxie growled and took the stack in both of his hands. Loona glared up at him and flipped him the bird while also kicking her feet up on the desk. The imp rolled his eyes and returned to his own desk in the other room, setting the stack down next to his keyboard and sitting himself down in his chair.
He cursed under his breath as he started typing. Screw Blitzo, he thought to himself, for making him do Loona's work; and, even more so, fuck Loona for being the laziest piece of shit he'd ever had the displeasure of working with.
Most of the stack was just some preliminary paperwork for prospective clients: getting names, phone numbers, addresses, et cetera, into the system so they could contact them later for follow-up meetings. Even if these people never actually ended up requiring I.M.P.'s services, it was good to at least get their contact information in case they changed their minds. Or, at least if Blitzo felt like harassing them until they did.
As he began working, his thoughts drifted back to Millie. His heart ached for her, knowing how lonely she must be feeling right now without him. He wished he could just leave right now and be at her side, helping her cook dinner and watching some of their favorite shows together while they ate.
It would be these thoughts that sustained him and kept him going through this long, awful night.
Another sheet done…
Another sheet done…
Another sheet done…
Hours passed and evening soon turned to night, the sun setting behind the city skyline outside and darkening the office. Moxxie was too focused on his work to actually get up and turn on the lights. He was on too much of a roll, and with each passing minute, the pile of metaphorical shit on his desk got one paper shorter. Only the blinding white light from the monitor illuminated him and the papers in front of him.
Most of the forms were almost blank, save for a few small details that Loona had sometimes bothered to write down. That was where most of the trouble was: filling in the blanks based off of half-assed—no, quarter-assed—work. How hard was it, even, to just listen to someone on the phone and get their name and address?
Moxxie was genuinely curious how Loona even survived daily life, being as inattentive and lazy as she was. He almost pitied her. Almost.
Whatever. All he had to do was get on the Sinternet and use what little information was given to him to fill in a few blanks in spreadsheets. It was simple enough. The only problem was that after the fifth—or was it the sixth, or the seventh?—form, it started wearing down his mind. His thoughts were barely coherent by now, flitting between wanting someone to put him out of his misery already and wanting to just leave and go home to Millie.
Moxxie had no idea that it was possible to be this unbelievably tired, even after having a few coffees to help kick himself back into a somewhat-resembling-conscious state. There was no reason for any person to be pushing their body this far, especially over dumb, mindless paperwork like this.
Whatever. He was used to being punished, humiliated, and generally pushed to his mental and physical limits for this job. At least it wasn't like being almost crushed to death—twice—by random staircases coming through the conference room wall that one time a few months ago. That really sucked, putting it both bluntly and mildly. This was incredibly mild by comparison.
He raised his mug to his mouth to take one more sip of his coffee as he typed in another potential client's info into the spreadsheet. However, much to his dismay, none of the now-lukewarm brown liquid flowed out. Unfortunately, he was going to have to break his train of thought and get up for another one.
Getting out of his chair, Moxxie stretched out, raising his arms up towards the ceiling and letting out a contender for the largest yawn he'd ever taken in his life. He began stumbling towards the coffee machine on the other side of the room, the blood slowly returning to his legs as he moved them. His eyes hadn't quite adjusted to the darkness yet, so he kept one of his hands on the wall to guide himself. Eventually he reached the machine and, sticking his mug underneath the nozzle and inserting another cheap packet of ground coffee beans from some awful generic brand, gave himself another steaming hot reservoir of consciousness that would, with luck, last him the rest of the night.
Before he returned to his desk, however, Moxxie realized that he should probably at least turn on some lights so that he didn't accidentally trip and faceplant on his way back. Using the wall as his guide, Moxxie followed the edge of the room, eventually fumbling for the lightswitch and accidentally flipping all of them on with one flick of his hand. With the sudden onset of brightness, Moxxie shielded his eyes, squinting as every room in the office suddenly became illuminated.
He froze and his tail shot up at the sound of someone groaning from the lobby.
"What… the…?" Moxxie uttered to himself, his eyes widening as adrenaline began pumping itself into his system. He jogged back to his desk to set down his mug and retrieved a pistol from his interior jacket pocket. This wouldn't be the first time a homeless person had wound up in their office and made themselves at home, nor was it likely to be the last. He began inching his way towards the lobby, pistol at his side, careful to make as little noise as possible. He didn't want to startle whomever it was and provoke them into an unnecessary confrontation.
He pressed himself against the wall and leaned around the corner, visually scanning the room. Nothing was out of the ordinary; at least, nothing that he could see right away. How had they even gotten in, anyway? He would've heard the doors open, and—
Another groan.
It was coming from the reception desk.
Moxxie tightened his grip on his pistol and moved his eyes down, his eyes widening when they finally settled on the mass of white and gray fur draped over the surface of the desk.
"L-Loona?!" He exclaimed, immediately putting his gun away and rushing to check on his coworker.
"Ughhhh… sssshut the fffuck up… too loud… tooooo fffuckin' bright…" Loona muttered, bringing her arm up to cover her eyes and inadvertently knocking over one of the several empty whiskey bottles sitting on the desk. One of them rolled off the desk and onto the floor with a hollow thud. Moxxie gagged and nearly vomited when he caught a whiff of her; her usual perfume had mixed with the overwhelming stink of alcohol.
"Loona… why in Satan's name are you still here?!"
"Fuuuck… you…" Loona groaned, shifting around in her seat. "Don't need a… a fffuckin' reason…" Moxxie sighed and pinched the bridge between his eyes, shaking his head.
"How long have you even been here…?" He asked. The hellhound only answered him with a subdued growl before falling silent again. Clearly he wasn't going to get any meaningful answers out of her while she was like this.
Moxxie watched with growing pity as she reached her other arm out, ostensibly searching for her phone, whimpering in disappointment when her hand was only met with empty space. What little energy she had disappeared, her body going limp and allowing her other arm to flop down and uncover her face. His eyes widened in shock.
Loona's makeup was running down her face, staining her cheeks with jet-black streaks. Her normally well-groomed hair was completely ruffled, and her red eyes were barely open and wet with tears, fixated on a point just in front of her. His eyes followed her gaze to the bright light coming from her phone across the desk, just out of Loona's reach.
Moxxie's face softened as he began to feel a pit in his stomach. For the first time in all their time working together, Moxxie felt genuinely sorry for his tormentor. How long had she been like this? What could even bring her to being in this state? He didn't even know that it was possible for her to cry, much less feel anything besides either apathy or total rage.
"Gimme…" Loona groaned, barely audible.
"W-what?"
"You FFFUCKIN' heard me… shithead…" She yelled, causing Moxxie to wince.
He couldn't help but glance at what was on the screen as he grabbed the phone. Loona had been scrolling through Sinstagram as usual; but she'd stopped on a particular selfie. The image itself was of two hellhounds embracing each other on a beach somewhere down in the Lust ring.
The first was tall, muscular, dark-furred, and with a scar over one of his eyes. Moxxie recognized him immediately; his name was Vortex, or something like that. One of Verosika's bodyguards. Even though he'd seen him around the building, given that Verosika's studio was directly across the hall from I.M.P., they'd never actually interacted with each other. In the picture, he was leaning down to kiss... Beelzebub?! He was dating freaking Beelzebub?!
Moxxie's widened eyes moved lower. The caption below the selfie read, between an inordinate amount of hashtags and party emojis, "1 year anniversary with the bae!" As Moxxie read the caption, all the pieces were starting to click into place in his head.
Oh.
Oh.
That's why Loona was…
Oh crumbs.
He glanced back down at Loona and locked eyes with her. She was shaking with rage and giving him a glare that, if looks could kill, would've dismembered him and scattered every little piece of his body across each of Hell's rings. Every fiber of his being was telling him to run for his life.
"Give. Me. My. Fucking. Phone. Motherfucker." Each word was slurred and accentuated with a growl. Tail tucked between his legs, Moxxie immediately complied, dropping the phone in front of her before backing up several feet away and well out of her reach. Loona gripped her phone and stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity while Moxxie waited nearby for her to lash out at him again, shivering and vice-gripping his tail between his quaking legs.
He was so fucked. Oh Satan, he was so unbelievably fucked. He hadn't even meant to look—it was just there, and how could he not see it?! As the minutes passed, Moxxie observed Loona's still form in fear and trepidation, fully expecting her to rise up and beat him to a bloody pulp. Even in her almost blackout-drunk state, he knew that she could probably still pull it off.
What he didn't expect, however, was for her to break down crying again, her pained sobs filling the space where agonizing silence had just dominated. Moxxie's tail dropped down from between his legs and he stopped digging his nails into his palms, which he hadn't even noticed he was doing before.
"Loona—"
"Shut… the fuck… up… you fucking possum," she choked out between sobs.
"O-okay. Sorry." Under normal circumstances, he'd find some way to retort and jab back at her, and by Satan was he tempted, but he just didn't have it in him to do that right now. Not while she was like this. He knew that if the roles were reversed, she'd be actively kicking him while he was down, both metaphorically and literally, but he didn't care about that. He wasn't like her. He was going to try to be the better person, as he always did, even if she would never appreciate it.
Moxxie began to cautiously approach her. "Hey," he started, keeping his voice quiet. "I think it'd be good if we got you home, alright?" Loona glared up at him again, the corners of her muzzle scrunching into an ugly snarl accompanied by a low growl.
"I don't need your fucking charity," she snapped back at him. She tried to stand up straight, pushing her chair away and lolling her head back and forth to crack her neck a few times. However, when she tried to move toward the door, her legs gave out from under her, nearly collapsing her to the floor. She caught herself with the side of the desk, inadvertently knocking over several more empty bottles. Moxxie sighed and shook his head.
"Loona, seriously. Let me at least drive you home so you don't hurt yourself, alright?" The still-pretty-drunk hellhound leveled her eyes at the imp, then the door, and then back at him. She rolled her eyes and used the desk as leverage to lift herself up again.
"Fine, bitch."
The door leading out to the parking lot smashed open and the two nemeses hit the asphalt hard. "FFFUCK! Why the fuck did you do that, fatty?!" Loona screamed, groaning as she slammed her hand into the nearest car and used it as a support to bring herself up, her claws slicing through the metal with an ugly screech.
"I didn't have a choice!" Moxxie retorted, groaning as he climbed back to his feet. "I can't both carry you and open a heavy door at the same time!"
"Y-you could'vvve at least fffuckin' warned me before fuckin' bodyslamming it!"
"I—" Moxxie sighed. He realized that arguing the point was useless; he'd have better luck screaming at a brick wall than getting through to her. He still needed to help her get over to the car, so he jogged over to her and resumed their previous position, ducking underneath her arm and using his own body to support her weight.
When they reached the car, Moxxie briefly let go of Loona and leaned her against the side of it to get his keys out and unlock the doors. Opening the passenger side, he grabbed the hellhound and tried his best to get her into the seat one limb at a time.
"Watch the fucking arm, geez!"
"I'm… trying… to get… your heavy ass… in!"
"Oh, so you think I've got a heavy ass now, huh? You tryin' to grope it or something, you old fucking perv?!"
"What?! I just meant—seriously?! UGH! Stop being gross and get in the damn car already!" Moxxie shoved her remaining leg into the car and slammed the door shut, choosing to ignore the muffled slew of insults coming from inside. Climbing in on the driver's side, he stuck the key in the ignition and turned it, waiting for the engine to start up and for Loona to finally shut her mouth.
"…like, holy fffuck… why the hell do you insist on being such a little freak all the time—"
"Are you done? Can we go now?" He interrupted, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and looking straight ahead, his eyebrows furrowed. This threw the hellhound for a loop, a look of incredulity spreading across her face. When no smartass reply came to her, Loona instead elected to merely pout, cross her arms, and lean her head against the window, staring outside at a point in the distance and losing herself in her still-alcohol-addled thoughts.
Finally, Moxxie pulled out of the parking lot and began driving in the direction of Blitzo's apartment. He knew the best route there already; he and Millie'd been invited over for drinks one time after a big contract, and of course, Blitzo had been making constant passes at him and his wife the entire time. He'd put up with it, of course, even if it made him deeply uncomfortable; it was just a regular part of how Blitzo interacted with him.
"Don't tell anyone about this," Loona suddenly muttered, far too embarrassed to look her nemesis in the eye.
"S-sure…?"
"Fucking promise me, fatty."
"Yeah, I promise."
"Really? Because I swear to Satan if you so much as breathe about this to anyone else, especially Blitz, I'll—"
"Alright, alright! Geez, I get the idea, Loona, chill out!"
Awkward silence settled between them again. A few blocks away from the office, however, he noticed a light snoring coming from the passenger seat. At the next stoplight, he ventured a quick, careful glance over to his right and saw that Loona was fast asleep, her eyes closed and her face relaxed. It was odd, seeing her like this. Moxxie had never seen her so, so… vulnerable? At peace? It felt wrong, taboo, for him, of all people, to see her like this.
Then again, he'd rather that she be like this than bullying and humiliating him all the time. He felt a shadow of a grin involuntarily tug at the corner of his mouth as he savored the only silence that he believed he would ever be able to secure for himself in Loona's presence.
Stopping at a red light, Moxxie moved his eyes off the road to peek at her, watching her shift around in her seat and readjust herself. When she was finished, she groaned and opened her muzzle in a massive yawn, revealing her impressive rows of sharp teeth. Closing her mouth again, she whimpered and nuzzled her face against the window, moaning softly at the contact as she slipped deeper into her unconscious state.
Moxxie thought that was adorable—which would normally be the last word he would use to describe anything even remotely related to Loona. He was surprised that he would even think that of Loona, of all people, one of the single angriest and most aggressive people he'd encountered in his life. He wondered if there was something wired wrong in his brain for him to even reach such a thought in the first place.
The light turned green and Moxxie pressed down on the gas pedal, the car lurching forward again as he did. Blitzo's place was just a little further up the street. All he had to do was get her inside and he'd finally be free to head back home to Millie, thank Satan.
Pulling into the closest parking spot on the side of the street, he shifted into park and shut off the ignition. The sudden silence and cessation of the car's rumbling made Loona open her eyes just a crack, bleary with fatigue and the beginnings of a hangover. She glanced out the window and, seeing the apartment building, scoffed.
"Took you long enough," she muttered, stretching out her body and yawning again before opening the door. Unbuckling her seatbelt, she soon found herself tumbling out onto the sidewalk, hitting the ground with a loud yelp. "FUCK!" She yelled, growling as she tried to get up again. "Help me out here, fatty, or I'm gonna… ugh… kill your sorry ass…" Moxxie groaned in annoyance and got out of the car, heading around the side to help Loona back up to her feet.
"Maybe… you should try… using your legs… next time," he retorted, using every ounce of strength he had to lift the hellhound up, his eyes bulging out slightly as he did. Eventually, she was able to at least stand, even if she was still wobbly.
"Fuck you," Loona shot back, glaring at him with simmering anger in her eyes. "And there ain't gonna be a next time."
"Oh, so you aren't an alcoholic who needs help doing the most basic things day in and day out?" Moxxie was feeling the anger bubble up in his gut. He'd been as nice to her as he possibly could have been through all of this. He'd shown her kindness and understanding and was literally helping her home after she got herself drunk off her ass, and what'd he get in return? Insults. Threats. Not a single "thanks, Moxxie, that was cool of you."
He mentally shamed himself for thinking that she'd actually appreciate any of it. What'd he even expect from his ungrateful bitch of a coworker?
"Because seriously," he continued, his voice growing in volume. "All you do is sit around on your phone, get drunk, eat my food—which you don't even like— and scream at the rest of us!"
"Motherfucker, I helped pull your and Blitz's asses out of the fire that one time! Don't give me some bullshit about not pulling my fucking weight!"
"Sure, but that's the exception! And at least I contribute something on a regular basis! You only help whenever you feel like it, and you almost never feel like it! You're always so consumed in your own world, and—and I'm just struggling to understand why in Satan's name you're like this all the time?!"
"Because—"
"Because what?! You're a complete freak with zero social connections? No friends? No boyfriend, girlfriend or whatever? Is that why you stuck around late tonight? Just to get blackout drunk again and pine over a guy who's taken, by fucking QUEEN BEELZEBUB of all people, and who's never going to see a total bitch like you?"
Loona went silent after his last jab and turned her head away from him to hide her face, her body suddenly going stiff and stopping the two of them from heading through the entrance. They stood there in awkward, painful silence for several minutes, neither of them daring to move or say anything.
Oh crumbs, he'd struck another nerve again, hadn't he? Somewhere inside himself, Moxxie felt a deep pit of regret rip itself open.
"H-hey, Loona, I didn't—"
"Shut the fuck up and just—just fucking get me inside." Her voice was quiet, deadly serious, quivering as she finished her sentence. The two of them headed into the building together in tense silence, neither one of them wanting to look at each other. Occasionally, Moxxie would have to keep Loona from stumbling over her feet, but otherwise they barely acknowledged each other.
The elevator ride up and the short walk down the hallway to the apartment were equally as awkward. Only when they reached the door did Loona break the silence.
"You can go," she whispered, her voice rough. She was still averting her gaze from the imp at her side supporting her weight.
"Are you sure? I can—"
Loona snapped her head around, her blood red eyes wet with tears and her black lips pulled back in a snarl that conveyed all of Hell's fury.
"Don't you have fucking ears?! Go. Home. Dipshit. And forget everything."
Moxxie sighed and lowered his head, letting go of Loona's side and taking a few steps back away from her. She produced a key from-Satan-knows-where and fit it into the lock with a substantial amount of fumbling, eventually swinging open the door, stumbling through inside and slamming the door behind her.
Moxxie felt the pit growing in his stomach only grow wider. Nothing he'd ever said to Loona ever fazed her like that. Maybe it was the copious amounts of alcohol, or the fact that it was four in the morning, or maybe a combination of the two, but she'd taken his jab way more personally than he'd expected.
Or maybe, he just shouldn't have said any of that in the first place.
He didn't know what had come over him. He hadn't meant to hurt her that badly, even if she was the one person he probably disliked most in all of Hell apart from his pathetic excuse of a father. He hated, hated, hated hurting people like that.
All he could hope for now was that she didn't break every bone in his body and dump him on the side of the street the next time they saw each other.
The apartment was dead silent when Moxxie opened the door, save for the rain beginning to patter against the kitchen window.
This wasn't the first time he'd come home so late; such was the lot of having to be I.M.P.'s impromptu accountant and, for a good chunk of the time, actual secretary. Millie was probably already sound asleep in their bed. Letting out a sigh of relief at finally coming home, Moxxie loosened his bow tie and let it slip off into his hands.
He decided against eating this late, being far too tired to satisfy any of his needs apart from sleep. Grabbing the leftover casserole that Millie had left for him on the counter, he wrapped it and the plate it was on in saran wrap and set it on the top shelf in the fridge, promising himself that he'd eat it at some point during the day tomorrow.
Tomorrow. The thought of having to see Loona at work again tomorrow wrenched his heart. He had no idea what she was going to say or do to him, or even if she was going to remember most of tonight in the first place. Moxxie hoped that she'd drank enough that she wouldn't.
He left the kitchen and followed the hallway down to the bedroom, using the moonlight through the window at the end of it to guide his steps. Quietly, he nudged open the bedroom door and slipped inside, closing it behind him while trying his best to not make a single noise.
Millie was already tucked beneath the sheets, sleeping softly and cuddling one of their many pillows. The sight of his beautiful wife made Moxxie's heart flutter and he felt a wide smile spreading across his face. He loved that woman so much. He didn't even think it was possible to love someone so much. Somehow, just being near her made all the pain he had to suffer through at work worth it.
Slowly, as to avoid making too much noise, he began stripping down to his boxers, and when he was finished, he flipped up the bedsheets and slipped under them, crawling over to Millie and wrapping his arms around her as he began spooning her.
As he closed his eyes and began letting the pull of unconsciousness take him away with promises of fantastical dreams, Moxxie kept thinking of what he'd said to Loona. All the hate that he'd finally let erupt. His incendiary words, and how satisfying it had felt in the moment to let it all out.
The pain shown on her tear-stained face. Her quiet, quivering voice, so unlike how she normally spoke. The apartment door slamming behind her and leaving Moxxie alone with his remorse and guilt.
Her lying on the floor, passed out from the alcohol.
Her.
Moxxie's eyes shot open again and he rolled over to stare up at the ceiling, letting go of Millie. Thoughts of the night's events, of Loona, kept ricocheting inside his head, so deafening even though the only noise was Millie's breathing from next to him.
Suddenly, sleep didn't seem so close anymore.