Work Text:
TACENDA
(n.) things that are not to be spoken about or made public ; things that are best left unsaid.
( ta - chen - da )
perhaps his words would always be left unspoken.
pride would be his death — unbeknownst is he, to think he would ever hold you close in his arms.
foolish.
pathetic.
how would he, someone so cruel, utterly sadistic, someone so — unpure.
how would someone like him be able to love such a soul?
how would someone like you be able to love him?
the answer is simple, truly. and lucifer is well aware.
you won't.
those three words ring in his head constantly, like a siren calling for his name.
it's those three words that he wants to hear that he can only dream of.
when your soul had first arrived in the devildom, he knew he should have disregarded you right then and there.
he knew he should have stopped when he felt the tingle in his heart with each soft chuckle that escaped your lips.
but he couldn't.
your love — it was a drug that he was addicted to.
one he wouldn't ever recover from.
and the worse part is he knew.
he knew that this would happen. he knew he would be left in heartbreak when you left, he knew how he would still crave and desire your touch, he knew.
yet he did nothing to stop it.
so, what else was there left to do?
he hid in cowardice.
a fool in love — he pretended he didn't hear your voice in the midst of the night, calling him to bed when he worked late.
he pretended you have never existed.
but the scars on the heart cannot heal from ignorance.
his pride would be his downfall — he knew it, but he couldn't get those three words he longed to hear and say out.
so, he'll wait.
he'll wait patiently until the day you will love him, too.
even if that day never comes.
perhaps he was always meant to fall alone.