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A Lonely World

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She opened her eyes only to find herself staring at the now-empty balcony—he was gone. Tears streamed down her face with the realization and she collapsed to the ground, her body racked with sobs. She wasn’t sure how long she’d stayed there, but it was still dark when she finally dragged herself up off the floor. Her body ached and she no longer had any tears left to cry.

She staggered across the penthouse and into his closet, where she peeled her clothes off and picked up one of his shirts—a dark blue one. Pulling it tightly around her, she dragged herself into his bed, cocooning herself in the satin sheets. She closed her eyes and inhaled—the sheets still held his sweet scent, like he was still there with her.

Once she finally managed to fall asleep, she dreamed of him. She dreamt that she woke up to find it was all just a nightmare—he was still here on earth. She dreamt of his fingers brushing tenderly against her cheek, assuring her that everything would be okay. She dreamt of his soft kisses against her lips.

“I love you,” she’d told him, desperately hoping it would be enough to make him stay. “Please,” she’d begged, “don’t leave.”

“My first love was never Eve, it was you, Chloe. It always has been.” And then he was gone. She’d found herself staring across the balcony into the empty darkness of the night.

She opened her eyes to find her face wet with fresh tears. Sniffling, she rolled over and glanced at the clock on his nightstand: 12:47pm. She’d slept for almost twelve hours. Thankfully, Dan was scheduled to have Trixie for the next few days—she couldn’t even begin to form coherent thoughts. Before she rolled back over, a piece of paper next to the clock caught her eye. Her name was written across the front in swooping, graceful calligraphy. It was from him.

She reached forward, hands shaking, and tentatively picked it up. Opening it, she began to read:



It is my hope that you will never need to read this letter, however, if you are, then I suppose it means I’ve returned to hell. I intend to make sure you are well taken care of. In the top drawer of my nightstand you will find papers transferring the ownership of Lux to you—you should have no issues with this, I’ve already discussed it with my lawyers. The combination to my safe is your birthday. It all belongs to you now.

I’ve never had to say goodbye to anyone I’ve cared so deeply for. I suppose I’m not sure how to say it to you, so I’m just going to write it. I want you to know that I never intended to hurt you. That is the last thing I ever wanted to do. But I have to go back. If I don’t, I can’t guarantee your safety and I can’t imagine losing you; that would truly be hell. The past three years of our partnership have been nothing but incredible. I’d never imagined I deserved to feel the way that I feel when I’m with you. Chloe, we were wrong about the prophecy; it was you all along. You were and will always be my first and only love. I hope you can understand how deeply sorry I am for leaving you. I will never forget you, Chloe.

Yours until the end of time,



The words on the page began to blur as tears filled her eyes. She let the letter slip through her fingers and flutter to the floor as a new wave of tears began to stream down her face. She pulled the covers up to her face and inhaled his soft scent, trying to find some small form of comfort in it. She gathered the silk sheets into her fists and squeezed them, afraid if she let go she’d fall into a million pieces. She wasn’t sure how long it took, but she eventually cried herself back to sleep.


The familiar ding of the elevator jolted her awake. She clutched at the sheets in anticipation as she waited for the doors to open, watching them with wide eyes. Maybe he would step out and tell her that everything was okay; that he would stay with her and never leave her side again. She would run into his arms and hold him close. She’d wrap her legs around him and kiss every inch of his face. She’d…all hope instantly left her as she saw Ella step out of the elevator.

Her eyes glazed over and she stared off into the distance. It wasn’t him. She blinked, feeling as though she’d just been stabbed in the gut. It wasn’t him. He wasn’t coming back. An empty, hollow feeling spread through her, gnawing away at what little sanity she had left. Her throat burned and her eyes ached from crying.

“Chloe! Oh my God! Are you okay?” Ella ran across the penthouse to Chloe, seeing her telltale puffy eyes and the lost expression on her face. She sunk down on the bed next to her.

“Chloe?” She repeated. When she got no response to suggest that Chloe had heard her, she lifted her hands and gently turned Chloe’s face towards her. Chloe blinked, slowly bringing herself back to her painful reality.

“Chloe?” Ella said again, “what happened? Where’s Lucifer? We were worried when you didn’t show up for work, we’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“He’s gone,” Chloe managed to whisper before unbidden, hot tears streamed down her face once more.

“What? Gone? What do you mean gone? Is…he is coming back, right?” Ella let out a shaky laugh. Chloe shook her head slowly, no longer able to speak through the tears.

“Oh Chloe,” Ella wrapped her in a hug, tears now silently falling down her own cheeks. She held Chloe until they had both stopped crying.

Chloe was exhausted. Her body was numb and there was a deep pain throbbing in her chest. She’d only just found him, and now… She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to focus on Ella’s arms still around her. When she finally felt she would be able to speak, she slowly pulled back.

“He’s gone,” she whispered again. Ella stayed silent, understanding that Chloe needed some time to gather her thoughts. “He’s gone and he’s not coming back.”

“Where did he go?” Ella asked softly, trying to make sense of the situation.

“He went…home,” except he didn’t. Not really. Hell would never be his home. She could tell how much he hated being there. Yet he went back without hesitation…for her. He was living in his own hell…for her. To protect her. She buried her face in her hands and Ella wrapped her in another long hug.

“I’m sure he’ll come back,” Ella whispered, stroking Chloe’s hair. “He always comes back,” she tried to convince Chloe, although she wasn’t so sure herself. She’d never seen Chloe like this and it scared her.

Chloe shook her head and retrieved his note from the floor for Ella to look at. “Not this time,” she whispered.


Ella stayed with her for a few hours until Chloe asked her to leave so she could have some time alone. She reluctantly rolled out of his bed and wandered over to the bar. Sinking down onto one of the stools, she chose a bottle from his vast collection. She took a long swig of the amber liquid, not bothering to use a glass.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there or how much she’d had to drink, but the empty bottles on the bar told her she should be very drunk by now. She could still feel a slight throbbing in her chest, but the alcohol had at least dulled it. It was a small comfort. She slid off the stool, holding the counter for support as the room around her spun wildly. She began to stagger back towards his bedroom. A wave of nausea washed over her suddenly and she stumbled into the bathroom, barely making it, before retching into the toilet. She felt too sick to stand up, so she lay in a pitiful heap on the bathroom floor for what felt like hours. Finally she stood, wiping her mouth and managed to drag herself back into his bed. Her head had barely touched the pillow before she fell back asleep.

She woke to rays of sunlight shining through the large glass windows. She wasn’t sure how long she had slept. She wasn’t even sure of how much time had passed since he’d left her. She groaned as she rolled over to look at the clock: 1:19pm. She rubbed her temples, trying to relieve the pounding in her head. One glance at the line of now-empty bottles that littered the bar told her she’d had far too much to drink.

She dragged herself out of his bed and wandered into the bathroom, gingerly peeking at her reflection in the mirror—her hair was in a knotted mess and her eyes were puffy and bright red from all the tears she’d shed. His blue shirt was stained down the front and she imagined what he’d say if he saw it. Bloody hell, that shirt was Prada. Yes dear, the Devil does indeed wear Prada. A soft smile pulled at her lips as she imagined him but she quickly pushed the thought from her mind. She didn’t think her eyes could handle any more tears.

Upon further inspection of the stains, she realized they were dried vomit, reminiscent of her heavy drinking earlier. After peeling her clothes off, she stepped into the shower, letting the soothing, hot water run down her body. She pumped a generous amount of his body wash into her hands, taking her time to clean herself, relishing in his scent. She closed her eyes and let the spray run over her face. Both her body and mind were numb. She couldn’t feel anything. She didn’t want to feel anything. She rubbed at her eyes. She felt exhausted despite the fact that she had mostly just slept for the last few days—at least she assumed she’d been in the penthouse for a couple of days—she was too devastated from her loss to concern herself with the passage of time. Everything seemed insignificant without him there.

Thank God for Dan—Ella had told her he’d been distracting Trixie from her sudden absence, understanding that she needed some time—but maybe…maybe God did all this. He obviously didn’t care enough to stop it. Maybe He was to blame for all this. He was, after all, the one who cast Lucifer down to hell in the first place. Rage began to bubble up inside her.

“Damn you,” she whispered, quietly at first, until suddenly she was shouting and screaming at the top of her lungs, “Damn you! Why did you do this?! How could you?! Your own son!” She punched the tiled wall so hard blood trickled from her knuckles. “How could you?” she asked again, looking up as if she expected an answer. But he wouldn’t fix this. He did this. He let it happen. God wouldn’t help her. He wouldn’t help Lucifer but…maybe his son could? Hope flickered through her. Amenadiel was an angel—he had wings. Why couldn’t he just fly her down to hell to see Lucifer? She might not be able to bring him back, but it was at least a start.

She stepped out of the shower feeling a small spark of hope for the first time since Lucifer left. From the use of his body wash, she could smell his comforting scent like he was right there beside her. She grabbed a new shirt from his closet—a vibrant white, this time—and her jeans, and set off to Linda and Amenadiel’s house.


Amenadiel’s eyes filled with sorrow as Chloe told him what had happened. What Lucifer had done to keep her safe. To keep baby Charlie safe.

“But you have wings right?” she pressed.

“Chloe…” he said, trying to stop her.

“You can take me there. To see him. Please,” she choked out.

“Chloe, humans cannot cross into heaven or hell. Not without being dead. I’m so sorry, but I can’t help you.”

“No please,” she pleaded with him. “You could go at least. And check on him.”

“I’m afraid I can’t even do that, Chloe. I’m an angel, I’m not exactly welcome down there.”

“No. Please,” tears began to run down her face, “I can’t…I don’t know what to do…without him.” She collapsed into his arms. No one could help. She would never see Lucifer again.