Lucifer stood at the edge of Los Angeles, the city sprawled before him in a patchwork of concrete and light. It was a strange, dizzying sight. The tall buildings, the endless maze of streets, the hum of cars and people—it all seemed so far removed from the quiet, haunting spaces he had known. This place was alive, chaotic, and filled with noise. Yet, it was exactly what he needed.
He had come here to escape the weight of the prophecy, the voices, and the strange powers that were awakening inside him. He needed normality, even if it was just an illusion. Maybe here, among thousands of strangers, he could slip into the background, fade into the crowd, and pretend to be one of them.
Normal. It was a word he had come to long for in the weeks since meeting that mysterious figure. But how could he possibly be normal? He wasn't even sure who he was anymore. The life he had known, the world he had lived in, felt like a distant dream now. He was different—too different for this world. His blood carried powers he couldn't explain, powers that had already begun to take root in him, itching beneath his skin.
The weight of the world had felt unbearable in New York, so he'd left. He had packed only the essentials and gotten on the first bus to Los Angeles, thinking that a fresh start was the answer. He had no plan, no direction, only a vague hope that maybe here, he could find a place for himself.
He had found an apartment on the outskirts of the city, a modest studio in a building that smelled of old carpet and stale air. It wasn't much, but it was his. The landlord had barely glanced at him when he signed the lease, and Lucifer was grateful for that. He didn't need questions, didn't need anyone asking why he looked the way he did or why he didn't smile. He didn't need anyone noticing him at all.
The first few days in Los Angeles were a blur of job applications, interviews, and rejection. Everywhere he went, he faced the same question: Do you have any experience?
Lucifer didn't. How could he? His entire existence had been a cycle of supernatural events, learning to control powers that no one could understand. He had never held a steady job, never done anything "normal" in his life. He didn't even know how to explain what he could do without sounding insane. So, he'd settled for silence, nodding politely when the interviewers asked him if he had any prior experience.
None of them ever called back.
His savings were running thin. His rent was due next week. And the only thing he had learned in this city was that survival wasn't as simple as walking away from your past.
On the third day of his job hunt, he wandered into a small café nestled between a record shop and a tattoo parlor. The smell of freshly brewed coffee hit him the moment he stepped inside, and for a moment, he felt something like peace—a brief respite from the weight of his thoughts. The café was warm and bustling, filled with the hum of quiet conversations and the clink of coffee cups. He approached the counter and ordered a black coffee, his voice low and distant, as always.
As he waited for his drink, he felt the buzz of a presence nearby—someone looking at him. He turned slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of a young woman sitting at one of the tables near the window. Her dark hair framed her face in loose waves, and she was watching him, not in the way people usually did when they felt uncomfortable around strangers, but with something that resembled curiosity.
Lucifer quickly looked away, his eyes falling back to the counter, where the barista was setting his coffee down with a smile. He took the cup, muttering a thanks, but before he could leave, he heard a voice behind him.
"Hey, you're new around here, right?"
He froze. No one ever spoke to him like that. Not here, not in this city of millions. People were too wrapped up in their own lives to notice anyone else.
He turned, slowly, meeting the girl's gaze. She wasn't smiling, but her expression was warm, inviting even. "I saw you in here yesterday," she said, "and the day before that. I didn't want to say anything, but I noticed you always sit by yourself."
Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "I prefer it that way," he said, his voice a little rougher than he intended.
She seemed undeterred by his short response. "Yeah, me too. You're not the only one," she said with a small laugh, then looked down at the table in front of her, as if unsure of what to say next.
Lucifer shifted on his feet. "I'm not here to make friends."
The girl tilted her head, eyeing him for a moment. "I get that. But you should know—this place isn't too bad for making connections. You never know when a friendly face might come in handy, right?"
He was about to respond, but the girl stood up abruptly, walking over to him before he could protest. She offered him a hand, and when he hesitated, she smiled—genuine, warm.
"I'm Lisa," she said. "I've seen you around a lot. Maybe we can grab coffee sometime and talk? You don't have to talk to anyone else, but maybe a bit of company wouldn't hurt."
Lucifer stood there for a moment, unsure. He wasn't used to this—people reaching out to him, offering their company so freely. It was a rare thing, and it felt almost foreign to him. But something in Lisa's smile made him hesitate. She wasn't like the others. She wasn't afraid of him, and that, in itself, was strange.
Reluctantly, he took her hand, shaking it once before releasing it. "Lucifer," he said, his voice almost apologetic, as if introducing himself made everything feel more real, more complicated.
Lisa smiled again, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "Nice to meet you, Lucifer. I'll see you around, okay?"
Before he could respond, she walked away, leaving him standing there with his coffee, his thoughts tangled.
---
Over the next few days, Lucifer found himself returning to the café, though he hadn't planned to. Lisa was there most days, sitting in the same spot near the window, working on her laptop or reading a book. She'd smile and wave when she saw him, but she never pushed him.
It wasn't until the end of the week that she approached him again. This time, she had a question.
"You still looking for a job?" she asked casually, as though she were asking about the weather.
Lucifer nodded. "I've been trying. Not much luck."
Lisa's eyes brightened. "Well, I work at a marketing firm. It's not glamorous or anything, but we're looking for someone part-time to help with a few things. You might not have much experience, but I can vouch for you. You seem like a guy who can figure things out."
Lucifer stared at her, a little taken aback. "I don't think I'm qualified."
Lisa shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I can get you an interview. You won't know unless you try."
For the first time in a long time, Lucifer felt something like hope stir inside him. It wasn't much, but it was a step forward. "I'll think about it."
"You don't have to think too hard," Lisa said with a grin. "It's a start. You never know, right?"
---
The next day, Lucifer found himself sitting in a small office on the second floor of a glass-and-steel building. The woman interviewing him was polite, but she seemed more interested in her phone than in the answers he was giving. It wasn't exactly what he had hoped for, but he was trying to keep an open mind.
After the interview, the woman handed him a folder with a schedule, and Lucifer left the office with a sense of cautious optimism. Maybe this was the fresh start he needed. Maybe he could learn to fit in here, even if it was only for a short while.
As he walked out into the sunlight, he felt a slight weight lift from his chest. A small step toward normalcy, perhaps. But the city of Los Angeles, with all its endless noise and possibilities, had begun to feel a little less alien.
Maybe he could make this work after all.