You and Satan were practically inseparable. Sure, it took a little while to get warmed up to each other at the beginning of your exchange program, but soon enough, you both realized just how much you had in common. What started as occasional short hangouts to talk about your current reads ended up becoming hour-long sessions sitting in the library next to each other, either talking about your favorites or just reading and enjoying one another's presence. The space between you two on the couch gradually decreased until you ended up figuring out your favorite reading position: Satan curled up at the end of the couch with you curled into his side, your head resting against his shoulder. 

Occasionally, you had date nights at the local cat café, or a picnic overlooking the Devildom where you lay on the blanket staring up at the sky and talking for hours, about everything and nothing at all. You swapped childhood stories, you told him more about your life in the human world, and he told you about his life in the Devildom before your appearance. You shared deep secrets, Satan laughing because you had just introduced the concept of "pinky promises" to him, and he thought it was so ridiculous, and yet so… you. 

Often, in the middle of the night, you were there, sitting on Satan's bed with the demon in your arms and his hands clutching onto the back of your shirt for dear life, his head buried in your neck. He shakily told you how out of place he felt in his own home, how distant he felt from his brothers, how he wished he could've been born an angel too so he could sit outside with them under the stars and reminisce about the past instead of sitting inside staring out the window wishing he was right there next to them. He admitted that he felt like he wasn't even his own demon because anything he did would be compared to Lucifer. You rubbed circles on his back and whispered reassurances and sweet nothings in his ear until you felt his grip slacken and heard his breaths even out. You sat there and continued to hold him until, you too, were drifting off into a deep sleep.

Or he was the one holding you in your bed, comforting you after a nightmare. He held your body close to his and stroked your cheek with his thumb. He hummed lightly to fill the silence and rid your mind of the remnants of the nightmare. When you finally fell back into a peaceful sleep, he laid you gently on your bed and laid right next to you, continuing to hold you close and smiling when you grabbed onto the front of his shirt in your sleep. You were his everything.

During the school week, you both sat in the library at a large table studying together. Satan tutored you on the subjects you weren't understanding too well, and you thanked him with kisses that left him flustered. Study nights were one of your favorite nights because you were able to watch Satan's eyes light up as he explained topic after topic to you without ever seeming to get bored. He was so passionate and you couldn't get enough of the way it made him look so overjoyed, like a child walking into a toy store for the first time. 

Sometimes you stole Satan's shirts, sweatshirts, or pants. He got irritated (not really) and asked for them back, but you knew, oh you knew, how much he loved seeing you in his clothes because eventually, you started to notice a shirt or pair of pants somehow making their way neatly folded onto your bed.

'Satan, I think you left your shirt in my room,' you texted with a picture attached.

'Are you sure? I don't remember owning that. You should just keep it. You need more pajamas anyway,' he responded. You smiled and shook your head. The shirt had a kitten on the front.

Things were beyond amazing between you two. Until they weren't.

Satan got the call a few months after your exchange program had ended in the Devildom. He was reading on the couch, and the rest of the brothers were sprawled out in the room doing their own things. He cocked an eyebrow at Solomon's caller ID but answered anyway. He was calling about you. You were home? Well of course you were home, he knew that. A candle was left burning? What about it? His brothers did that all the time. Fire? A fire in your house? No, that couldn't be. Did Solomon just say hospital? Were you in the hospital? Maybe he misspoke. Yes, he had to have misspoken. You were fine. You were sleeping at home. 

"I'm sorry, Satan."

Ringing. There was lots of ringing. He couldn't hear. He couldn't see. Those figures in front of him were his brothers, right? He couldn't move. Someone was shaking him. Did he hear someone ask what was wrong? He could've sworn he felt his DDD leave his hand, but he wasn't sure. 

He always knew human lives were fragile. He always knew there would come a point where you'd both have to say your goodbyes and part ways forever. But he didn't realize it was going to be so soon. He only got to say he loved you once. Once. He had planned for so many more moments with you. Moments where you two would be cuddled up on a blanket under the bright stars, in a café holding kittens, laughing and browsing around a bookstore, holding each other close in his bed as you talk about nothing into the early morning, walking around aimlessly whilst holding hands, drinking tea in the late hours of the night. There would be moments when he'd hold you close and let you know just how important you were to him. Moments where he'd tell you he loved you.

He couldn't remember your funeral very well. He couldn't remember anything after the call very well. He vaguely remembered sitting blankly on Lucifer's bed, staring at the floor as his brothers sniffled around him after crying for hours, as Lucifer sat in silence, rubbing his back. Funny, you always said he should've tried getting closer to Lucifer, and here he was, getting close to him and unable to tell you about it because you were gone. 

You left him. Why did you have to leave him? Was this some sort of twisted revenge from Michael for what happened between him and his brothers all those years ago? Why did you have to be taken from him so early?

What was he supposed to do now?

Satan turned his head towards Lucifer, who met his eyes. He felt his face scrunch up, and he threw himself at the eldest. He cried in his older brother's arms for the first time, and when his loud wails turned to strained whimpers and eventually silence, that was the last time he ever cried. And that was the last time his brothers saw him leave his room.