Of Light And Shadows

Eventually Jia had to move to use the bathroom. She shimmied out from under Lucifer’s arm carefully. His brows twitched but he didn’t wake as she moved away from him and climbed off the bed.

Standing made her feel like she was on the deck of a heaving ship, but she managed to stay upright and walk to the door without stumbling. She needed to pee and she needed a shower and a change of clothes.

She crept to her room, holding onto the wall to avoid falling over until she was inside. The soft greys and clean lines were welcoming to her tired eyes.

Once upon a time she’d wanted to paint the room sunflower yellow. She grinned at the absurdity and headed straight for the ensuite bathroom, glad to have one of her own instead of having to use a communal one.

Jia peeled off her clothes and looked at herself properly in a mirror for the first time in years. Her body was thin from prolonged periods of under-eating. Every one of her ribs was visible under her skin, though she’d managed to avoid getting so thin that it was too noticeable thanks to Mrs Raylen and her supply of sandwiches.

She was still short and slender but her waist was a little too small, her cheekbones a little too sharp. All over her body were mottled purple marks in varying stages of fading, some of them turning an ugly yellow. Her arms and legs were as covered as her torso and guilt surged again as she realised that Lucifer would have the same injuries.

She touched the pact mark on her chest absently, noticing how different it was to Mammon’s. Where his was all triangles and sharp edges, Lucifer’s was curving lines and swirling patterns. It reminded her of his handwriting somehow, like he’d tattooed his name over her heart.

She stepped into the shower and sat down in it to clean herself, unable to stand up in the heat. Waves of dizziness made the room spin, coming and going while she showered.

She sat there for a long time, running over all the things she’d seen when her memories had come flooding back. She let herself cry over the horror. She let herself feel the fear she’d suppressed for so long.

She also let herself feel proud for being able to run away from her father when he’d almost killed her. The empty hole was gone at last, even if it was filled with more pain. She was thankful for that, and thankful to Lucifer for putting himself in harm’s way just to help her.

When she was done showering the cool tiles against her arm helped to rouse her. The freezing shock of their touch on her skin pushed away some of the nausea. She was able to drag herself to her feet and switch the shower off with only minimal swaying.

She opened her drawers to find a pair of Belphegor’s joggers and one of his shirts and she smiled. He’d obviously realised she had no pyjamas to wear and made Mammon bring them to her while she was elsewhere. She slipped them on, laughing when they drowned her.

She folded the waistband of the joggers over a few times so she wouldn’t fall over the bottoms and ran a brush through her hair before heading barefoot back to Lucifer’s room, feeling less nauseous than before. The large shirt kept slipping from her shoulder but it smelled like old books and Bell’s favourite tea and that made her happy.

Still smiling to herself, she tapped on the door and got no response. She assumed Lucifer was still sleeping and crept in quietly. As the door clicked shut she turned to find the bed empty. She frowned, looking around the room and not finding him anywhere.

As her eyes passed over the door to his ensuite it opened and he stepped out with a towel around his waist, damp hair falling over his forehead and one arm braced against the doorframe to steady himself, a mug clutched in his other hand. He stopped when he saw her and his eyebrows rose in mild surprise.

Beads of water rolled over the contours of his chest, tracking their way down his defined abs and following the edge of the perfect V shape visible above the towel. She’d never seen a body so perfect.

Time seemed to freeze around them before Jia regained her senses. She turned away and clapped her hands over her eyes, her ears burning with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were still sleeping!” she squeaked. He chuckled.

“Don’t worry about it. Wait there a minute.” She stayed with her back to him as she listened to him moving around the room, her cheeks glowing furiously.

The image of him half naked and still dripping from the shower was seared into her brain. His steps were slow and she could tell he was still much dizzier than she was, but a few minutes later he spoke.

“You can look now.”

She turned to see him wearing a soft grey t-shirt and a pair of black joggers, his wet hair pushed back away from his forehead.

“I feel better for showering but I still feel like I could throw up.” He sat on the edge of the bed and dropped his head into his hands. “Remind me never to offer to be nice to anyone ever again,” he teased.

“You’d ignore me if I did,” she chuckled.

“That’s true.” After a moment he looked up again, squinting against another pounding headache. “How’s your head?”

“Crappy but getting better. I didn’t fall when I walked to my room but I did have to sit in the shower because the hot water made it worse.” She gestured to her temporary pyjamas. “Bell left some of his clothes in my room to wear until I can get some of my own.”

“That was nice of him.” She cast her eyes over his informal clothing, ignoring the stutter in her heart as she saw how the soft material fit snugly around his strong forearms and broad chest. He arched an eyebrow at her when he heard it, but he remained mercifully silent. She hoped he’d just pass it off as residual embarrassment.

“I had no idea you actually owned t-shirts. I thought all you wore was suits,” Jia said to distract herself.

“I don’t sleep in a shirt and tie,” he answered.

“I know that. It’s just weird to see you...casual.”

“If you tell anyone you’ll be in serious trouble.”

“I won’t tell.”

“Good, it undermines my authority. My brothers are hard enough to control without the rest of the school finding out I hate looking serious and telling people what to do.” She crossed the room to sit beside him.

“Do you really hate it though? You seem to like it from what I can see.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You command people’s attention so easily,” she shrugged. “It’s second nature.”

“That doesn’t mean I like it.” He laid back on the mattress, leaving his legs hanging over the edge. “Why am I still tired? I’ve never slept so much before.”

“You also haven’t made a binding pact and then unlocked twelve years of suppressed trauma before. Sleep it off. The sooner we rest the sooner we can go get my mother.” He nodded and sat up after a moment, climbing into the bed properly and pulling the blankets up over his head. She chuckled and stayed where she was, suppressing a yawn of her own.

“Are you just going to sit there and awkwardly stare at me all day?” His voice was muffled by the duvet. She laughed and shifted to climb in beside him. As soon as she was settled she sighed in surprise.

“Your bed is so comfortable,” she breathed, snuggling further into the soft sheets. The whole bed smelled like him and she was suddenly incredibly drowsy. A small part of her tired mind wished it could bottle up that scent and keep it forever.

“Egyptian cotton,” he answered. “They were a birthday present from Mammon. I think they’re the only useful thing he’s ever bought me.”

He pushed the blankets down to his chest, squinting against the change in light as he linked his fingers behind his head. The new position threw a mottled handprint on his pale skin into sharp relief. He saw her looking at it and put his arm back down.

“I can put sleeves on if you want.”

“No point. I can see the bruises on me anyway.”

“They’re everywhere.”

“I got into trouble a lot,” she shrugged.

“I hate how used to it you are,” Lucifer muttered. “You shouldn’t be so oblivious to it all that you barely register how much you hurt.”

“Getting used to the abuse was the only way I could survive it. If I’d stayed soft I’d be dead by now.” She tried to say it casually but her voice cracked near the end. She turned to face away from him, knowing that if she looked at him and saw the pity in his eyes she’d cry again.

He didn’t say anything. Instead he moved closer and pulled her in until her back was against his chest. He was warm and solid behind her, an anchor amidst the chaos. The soft rise and fall of his chest was soothing. The gesture was so comforting after so many years of sadness that she didn’t pull away.

Instead she touched the back of his hand gently where it rested over her stomach and closed her eyes, happy to be held by someone that cared about her.