Chapter Text
I’ve always been well acquainted with Wrath. It’s never been a friend of mine, nothing but an unwelcome guest barging in and causing havoc. The emotion tangles its barbed webs in every crack and crevice in my body and mind, similar to that of the prickly vines wrapping themselves around your ankles while walking along a forest bed, only to continue to stick and cling to whatever brushes against them. Wrath has always followed me, not to a normal degree at least. It’s normal to feel anger, pain, sadness, and whatever other negative emotion there is to bear, yet the feeling could not and would not be shaken, constantly lingering in my subconscious and ready to strike at any moment.
Small things would trigger Wrath to set forth its ugly face. Anything from a minor inconvenience to being mocked by the upper-classmen during my Junior year of High School. Wrath would wrap its claws around my throat and cloud my mind with a dense, heady fog that would keep me from making any and all rational decisions. Only after unsavory words and monstrous actions were committed had the fog cleared, no longer suffocating cognitive thoughts, only to be washed over with guilt and anguish. I would weep tears of sorrow and regret; if only I could properly process and respond to negativity in a healthy manner. Friends were few and far between. Nobody wanted to be friends with the angry girl. The one who would fly off the handle at any given moment.
My mother had begun to see the signs early on in my adolescence. I had a habit of acting on emotion and impulse rather than thinking things through. Violence was never the answer, but it was the only language I knew. Doctor visits were a bust, therapy made me angrier, and pills only numbed any and all emotion I was capable of feeling.
As I got older it was easier to pry Wrath’s hands from around my throat. Replacing vulgar words with sarcasm and snarkiness. I refused to worry about what anybody thought of me anymore, releasing me from my desire to be “normal”. Life became a bit easier to navigate; able to live a life without fear of lashing out at the drop of a hat. Yet, Wrath still lingers in the back of my mind, waiting and watching for the moment to act.
It wasn’t until my world was flipped around, once again, that I was met with Wrath once more. This time not as a calamitous emotion, but as the most beautiful individual to ever be materialized into existence. His hair was golden like a sunflower in the August sun, with eyes that twinkled like imperial Jadeite. He was outlandishly smart and cunning. He was cynical, yet had the heart and patience of a Saint, ironic. He was once standoffish, isolating himself from family and friends to spare them from himself. Books became his solace. His distraction from the world and the thoughts that caused chaos in his subconscious. Days upon days would he hole himself inside his room, locking the door and reading until his eyes couldn't bear to keep themselves open any longer. He refused to show his sin, the very one that continues to haunt me to this day. Wrath. His name is Satan, Fourth Born Demon Lord, The Avatar of Wrath.
When I first arrived at Devildom, Satan showed no interest in befriending the Human Exchange Student. He found the whole ordeal silly and not worth the effort. As time went on I began to crack and etch away at the mask he concealed his real self behind. It took an agonizing body swap with his arch nemesis of a brother, a pact, and my own death to convince the demon that he could present to me what was hidden beneath the false persona he had created. For once I had felt I met someone who could understand me. A friend who could like me for who I was and not who I pretended to be. I needed no convincing on my part to love Satan for who he was. My heart pined for him from the moment I was dumped into the disorderly House of Lamentation. The fondness I held for him, however, grew greater from time spent together. Whether it be studying together for exams at RAD, feeding the cats he kept secret from Lucifer that hid in the gardens behind the mansion, or even silently reading together on opposite ends of his room. What did take convincing was to come to terms with having fallen in love with Wrath himself.
Satan and I were working on homework together in the library preparing for upcoming exams. As I try to focus on the textbook in front of me I can’t help but to sneak glances at Satan sitting across the table from me. He's already long finished with today’s curriculum, already enraptured with a novel he’s read at least ten times already. The edges were curling and the spine had gone soft, proving how well loved the book was. I watched as the corners of Satan’s mouth twisted up into a subtle grin, causing a smile to pull across my own. Seeing Satan’s genuine smile was like watching the sunrise. It wasn’t often witnessed, but given the effort or patience, by Diavolo it was gorgeous.
“I can feel you staring at me,” he teased. Quickly realizing I’d been gawking I panicked. Heat rushed to my cheeks as I averted my gaze from him and back to my book. Embarrassment flooded my body from being caught. Taking the textbook from the table, I propped it up, hiding my burning red face. Satan chuckled at the action. Grabbing the book from the top, he pulled it towards himself, snapping it shut with one hand, and placed it back in front of me. A devious smirk replaced the gentle smile he had moments ago, making my nerves stand on end. Even though we were much closer now, there were some things about Satan I still had yet to decipher. Whatever crafty plan running through his head right now was one of those things.
Standing abruptly, Satan walked over to me and held out his hand, waiting and saying “Come with me”. Placing my own in his, he pulled me out of my seat and began leading me down the hall and out of the House of Lamentation. Never was Satan very spontaneous, only showing that side of himself when a cat was involved, so being whisked away so quickly was daunting. Confusion rattled my brain as we continued to walk hand-in-hand down the streets of Devildom. We continued to pass by our usual stops; the cat cafe, Hell’s Kitchen, The Fall, even the library and bookshop. Eventually I halted in my steps, causing him to stop moving as well.
“Satan, where the hell are we going?” I asked him. Satan’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he gave my hand a gentle squeeze.
“Do you trust me?” What a silly question. Out of all the brothers Satan has proven to me time and time again I could do nothing but trust him. I nodded and he gave my hand another squeeze before tugging me along again. Peering over his shoulder at me, he flashes a bright and genuine smile, making my heart flutter and my breath hitch in my throat.
“Come on. You’ll see”