I wrote this when I was big sad, so sorry if it's really crappy.

Minor trigger warning for those with anxiety or depression. There's nothing major, just tread with caution.

  Lucifer knew something was
wrong. He could feel it. It wasn't the feeling he got when Mammon did something or when Diavolo came up with a new event. No, this was different. But he couldn't figure out what it was.

  Maybe Beel had raided the kitchen again? Maybe Satan was planning a prank? Maybe Asmo was out partying?

  He checked the kitchen, Asmo's room, and any doorways or corridors to see if he could find anything suspicious, but it appeared as if his brothers weren't up to their usual shenanigans tonight.

  So what else could it be?

  Lucifer ran his fingers through his hair, irritated that he could not find the cause of his unease until he heard it.

  The faint whimpers, the soft sobs, all coming from behind the door to your room.

  Lucifer approached with caution. His gloved hand softly knocked on the door, much lighter than usual.

  "MC? Are you alright?"

  After a moment of silence, you replied, "Y-yes. I'm fi-fine."

  Why did you stutter? He knows for certain something is wrong now.

  "May I come in," he asked, his voice the calmest you had ever heard it.

  For a moment, you debated letting him in. He sounded so comforting, so patient, like he was willing to listen.

  'No. He'll laugh, call me pathetic, tell the others.'

  Ridiculous, of course, that wasn't like Lucifer at all. You knew this, but fear was a difficult beast to fight, and right now, you were losing the battle.

  "I-I'm not decent, " you lied. Well, was it a lie? You were a mess; tears streamed down your cheeks, your eyes were red and puffy, not to mention your body shaking uncontrollably.

  "MC, I know you're lying. Please open the door."

  It wasn't an order, only a request. A request that you didn't want to fulfill, but you couldn't stop yourself.

  "C-come in."

  Lucifer opened the door cautiously, scanning the room until his eyes landed on you. He gently made his way to your side, consumed with worry.

  By now you had buried your face in your pillow, embarrassed beyond belief. Why did you let him in? Now he could see just how weak you are. You braced yourself for his sharp tone to return, reprimanding you for falling apart.

  Instead, he sat beside you and laid his hand on your shoulder.

  "MC, look at me, please."

  Fighting the urge to hide your tear-stained cheeks, you faced him, your eyes closed tightly.

  You felt a soft hand brush against your cheek while another wrapped itself around your waist.

  Your e/c eyes opened to meet his crimson ones. They held no pity, no disgust. You had never before witnessed the soft, caring expression he displayed now.

  That's when you let go. All of the anger, worry, and sorrow washed over you.

  This time was different. This time you had someone, and he wasn't going to laugh. He wasn't going to dismiss your emotions. He wasn't going to let you go.

Please tell me if you find any spelling or grammar mistakes. I did my best to proofread, but it's 2 AM.