Chapter Text
The first letter was supposed to be the only one. Just a way for him to unleash his feelings in order to make them known, so that way they’d shrivel up and die. It was supposed to help him get over the butterflies swirling around in his stomach, but that plan quickly changes when Diavolo runs up to him with a smile, waving said letter in his face.
The prince looks impossibly happy. It takes Satan’s breath away.
“Satan, look! I have a secret admirer!”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks! I was actually wondering if I could ask for your assistance in helping me find out who it was.”
Satan’s heart skips a beat, but he doesn’t let his anxiety show.
“Why are you asking me?”
“Because you’re the smartest demon I know! Your deduction skills alone are unparalleled. If anyone could help me figure this out, it’d be you.”
“...I can look into it, but I’ll make no promises.”
“Perfect! I’ll text you pictures of them of course. The original copies are mine.”
Satan nods, and Diavolo grins as he pats him on the back. But before the prince can leave, Satan grabs his arm. There’s something he has to know first, a question that needs to be answered. It’s followed by dozens of others as they spill out of his mouth.
“Why do you want to find out who it is? Did you hate the letter? Were you insulted that—“
Diavolo interrupts him.
“Of course not. I wanted to thank them for it.”
There’s a flush to the prince’s face now. A timidness that Satan had never seen before.
“I have... never received anything like this before. It’s beautifully written.”
Oh. He likes it.
Satan smothers the joy that runs through him, along with the blush that threatens to take over his face. He hides it behind his mask as he bids Diavolo farewell.
In the safety of his room, Satan sinks to the floor, his heart going a mile a minute. Those butterflies have only grown stronger, and a part of him wants to scream into his pillow for some reason.
Diavolo liked his letter.
…That wasn’t supposed to happen. The prince wasn’t supposed to blush like that, or to look that soft and vulnerable as he held it. It was meant to be a one time thing, but Satan’s legs are already moving, and it isn’t long before he has a quill in hand.
Maybe one more wouldn’t hurt.
~•~
Diavolo doesn’t even bother to hide the joy he receives with each and every letter. No, there are several times where he’s taken Lucifer or one of the others aside, and loudly declared “Look, they’ve left me another one!”
Lucifer never even spares it a passing glance, simply rolling his eyes as he asks Diavolo to get on with the meeting. But the prince always insists on reading parts of it out loud, much to Lucifer’s annoyance. It makes Satan laugh. Despite the embarrassment that he feels on being openly praised like that, it’s nice. To know that his affections were well received, and to hear the prince coo and fawn over his writing in general.
It inspires him to continue, even though he had never planned on writing that many of them. Something about Diavolo’s reaction spurs him on.
That feeling inside of him has grown. He still doesn’t know what it’s name is, only how to describe it. There’s a warmth to it, like being wrapped around in a blanket in front of an open fire. And a comfort, a sense of ease, that he’s never found elsewhere. The only thing that’s come close is what feels when he’s petting a cat, but this doesn’t really compare. It’s infinitely better.
He’s never felt anything like it before. Rage, in all of its forms, is easier to understand. Perhaps that’s why he resorted to putting it on paper. Something about that emotion feels less daunting when it isn’t spoken aloud, when it’s just a smear of ink on an otherwise empty page. And although he usually keeps all of his feelings bottled away, there’s something nice about allowing it to be known. Nothing can ever come of this, that’s true, but Satan doesn’t need to have anything more. He has his letters instead, and for now, that is enough.
Eventually, the prince has gone over all of his favorite parts, and relents. The meeting finally begins, but there’s a twinkle to Diavolo’s eye. His joyous laughter continues to echo around in Satan’s head. Instead of taking notes, Satan finds himself planning his next letter.
It’s not like he’ll be missing anything. These meetings aren’t even all that important.
Before he knows it, he’s written out an entire verse.
~•~
His words grow bolder over time. With practice, they’ve started to flow easier. The prince is a work of art, and waxing poetic about him has almost become second nature.
A letter gets left in front of Diavolo's chair in the student council room. The envelope is bright pink this time, and Satan can’t help but feel pleased at how much it stands out. It’s a statement, more so than all of the other ones. He’s also incredibly proud of what’s written inside of it. Yes, this work might be his best one yet.
Asmo darts over to it right away, addressing Diavolo with a grin.
“Ooh, what did your secret admirer say this time?”
But before Asmo can even touch it, Diavolo snatches it off the table and presses it against his chest.
“It’s mine.”
Asmo frowns.
“Why are you being such a party pooper? I want to see~”
Asmo tries to reach for it, but Diavolo just holds it further out of his grasp.
“No! I forbid it!”
“But you’ve always shared it with us before.”
The prince pauses, and a light blush dusts his cheeks. “I’ve changed my mind. From now on, they’re words are mine and mine alone.”
Asmo pouts. “That’s not fair.”
“I’m the prince. I don’t need to be fair.”
Lucifer eventually ends their squabbling, and the meeting begins. But once again, Satan’s mind is elsewhere.
These words are mine and mine alone.
Something about that is touching. The idea of his feelings being a secret, something that only the prince will know from now on, makes him incredibly happy. If none of this will be made public then...
He can truly express himself, can’t he?
~•~
Diavolo calls him into his office, and Satan frowns as he thinks over his actions for the past couple of days. He hasn’t done anything bad, and hasn’t even found the time to prank Lucifer yet, so he shouldn’t be in trouble. But there’s no other reason for Diavolo to summon him. At least, none that he can think of.
The prince is at his desk, a serious expression on his face. Once Satan enters the room, he gestures to the chair in front of him.
“Please, have a seat.”
Satan nods. The confusion is still there, but it doesn’t last for long. Diavolo asks him a question before he can even make himself comfortable.
“Have you made any leeway on figuring out who my admirer is?”
Ah, so that’s why he’s here.
In truth, Satan had completely forgotten that he’d agreed to do that. A majority of their conversations involving those letters just consisted of Diavolo cooing over them and nothing else. And well...
It’s not like there was a mystery to solve. Satan already knew who it was.
“Why do you care that badly? Does it even matter?”
But the prince doesn’t answer him. Instead there’s a pause, one that’s broken with a question.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
Satan panics. It seems innocent at first, but it’s already laced with implications that he doesn’t want to hear. Things are about to become complicated. But before he can run or shake his head no, Diavolo tells him anyway.
And that one secret makes his entire world fall apart.
“I think I’ve fallen for them. That’s why I want to know who it is.”
No.
That’s the first thought to enter Satan’s head, and it’s the only one that makes any sense.
He had to have misheard. Diavolo wasn't supposed to catch feelings for him of all people. Satan wasn’t made to be loved, or to have his feelings returned.
There’s nothing there for Diavolo to enjoy anyways. After all...
“It’s just a bunch of letters.”
But the prince isn’t following his train of thought. He nods. “Ones that are beautifully written and laced with emotional intent.”
...Those words are only beautiful because he doesn’t know their source. The truth would only taint it all.
He is a nothing but a monster.
“You’d be better off not knowing.”
Diavolo scowls.
“And who are you to tell me that?”
“I’m the moron who should never have agreed to help you out in the first place. You need to get your head out of the clouds. Only a pathetic freak would write someone love letters without even signing their name.”
Diavolo growls, and shoves him up against the wall.
“Take that back.”
“No. This is the real world Diavolo, and it’s full of disappointment. The person that you’ve fallen for doesn’t exist.”
“You’re wrong. I know they do. I don’t know all of them, that’s true, but that’s why I want to meet them.
And you have no right calling them a freak. I might not know who they are, but that will not prevent me from defending them.”
He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a threatening hiss.
“So I suggest you watch your tone.”
If Satan was in a better mood, he’d find this side of Diavolo attractive. The prince’s anger is bright, almost like the sun itself, and for a brief and shining moment there is nothing there to hide it. Those feelings could encompass yet another letter, but the timing is completely wrong. And the only thing this encounter has done is leave a bitter taste in Satan’s mouth.
“Fine.”
Diavolo’s grip loosens, and Satan shoves him aside. He stalks towards the door.
Writing to him at all was a mistake. He should never have expressed himself.
“Satan—“
“I’m done. If you want to figure it out, then you’re on your own.”