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Blitzø got up and opened the door to his apartment after five minutes of nonstop knocking. "We're watching Ghostfuckers, this better be really fucking good."
Stolas' eyes lit up. "Blitzy! I'm so glad you answered! Listen, I"—
"Fuck off."
Stolas blinked, unsure if he wanted to believe what he had just heard. "Excuse me?"
"Fuck off. I'm not letting you crash here, bird shit, so you might as well go look somewhere else," the imp shot back, "Get the fuck out of my apartment building."
"You don't understand! I'm not allowed to live in the palace anymore, and now I have nowhere to go!" Stolas cried, "I've lost everything, and if you don't take me in, I'll be forced to sleep on the streets!"
"That's not my problem," Blitzø said coldly as he moved to slam the door shut.
The former prince wedged his foot in the doorframe, preventing it from fully closing. "Actually, Blitzø, it is your problem! Your testimony in court is one of the reasons why I lost everything!"
"Everything I said was true, and you know it. It's your own damn fault that you lost everything," he shot back, "You have no one to blame for this but yourself."
Loona paused the TV and got up from the couch. "Dad, you're missing the show, who the fuck's at the door?"
Blitzø glanced back at his daughter. "Stay out of this, Loona, I don't want you to be exposed to this sad sack of bird shit."
"What the fuck, is Stolas really here?" she growled, "What does he want?"
"He won't be here for much longer, Looni," he called after her, "Just stay inside and let me deal with this."
"I'm going to get the angelic rifle. That should get him to fuck off," she said quickly, running out of the living room.
Stolas gasped, holding his hand over his heart. "Angelic rifle? Don't tell me you've been buying weapons from that vile Striker!"
"Nope, I got my angelic rifle from an overlord in Pentagram City, y'know, the ballerina lady with angelic steel shoes? I bought one in case you decided to show up," Blitzø said coolly, "I didn't think that you would, but I thought I should get one just in case."
Stolas stomped his foot in indignation. "So you're not going to apologise for what you did to me, then?"
Blitzø looked at him as if he had a dick for a nose. "You mean apologise for not covering your sorry ass in court?"
"Exactly! If it weren't for your testimony, and you agreeing to let Decarabia play the security footage from her jewellery store, I wouldn't have been found guilty!" he shot back, "I wouldn't be standing here at your doorstep with nothing but the clothes on my back!"
Blitzø looked at him as if he'd said that Mammon wasn't fat. "Bullshit, you have a suitcase in your hand."
Stolas glanced down at the suitcase in his left hand. He'd packed it in a hurry when he'd been kicked out of his palace. "All I have is my essentials! They're all that I was allowed to take when I left," he said miserably, "I don't have my crown, my grimoire, or anything of value anymore."
"I don't care, that doesn't mean that I'm gonna let you stay here, and freeload off of me," Blitzø growled, "It's not like you can pay rent now that you aren't a prince anymore."
Stolas tugged at his shirt collar in a way that looked like it was trying to be cute. "Well, not at present, but maybe, if you were so kind, then..."
Blitzø shook his head, immediately understanding what Stolas was asking for. "If you think I'm gonna give you a job at I.M.P., you've got another thing coming," he spat, "Don't you get it? I don't want you in my life. You're not entitled to my body, or my love."
Stolas reached for Blitzø's face, trying to seductively run his hand down his cheek. "But I want you, Blitz"—
"I don't fucking care what you want," he growled, his tail flickering behind him as he smacked Stolas' hand away, "It's not like you ever cared about what I wanted. I don't want your body. I don't want your twisted idea of love. All I want is for you to let me go."
The imp swallowed hard, balling his fists up, "How much do you have to hurt me before you're satisfied, Stolas?" he continued, unable to look his abuser in the face, "What will it take for you to wake up and realise that I'm not your knight in shining armor, and I never will be?"
Stolas drew his hand back. He waited for Blitzø to say something, to tell him that he was sorry, or that he loved him. He wanted both, but at this moment, he was probably only going to get one of the things he wanted to hear. In spite of everything, he still wanted Blitzø. He needed Blitzø. He deserved Blitzø after all the shitty things that had happened in his life. Blitzø was supposed to be the knight in shining armor who whisked him away from Stella and the other Goetias.
Blitzø said nothing, and tears bubbled up in Stolas' eyes as he realised, once and for all, that he wasn't going to get to have Blitzø. Blitzø hated him, and he would never understand why.
"You were my first ever friend, Blitzø. I thought that you cared about me," he said quietly, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, "Was I so wrong for wanting the love of my first friend?"
"And here you go again, playing the victim," Blitzø growled, "That's what pisses me off the most about you, Stolas. Whenever anyone tells you that you've hurt them, you don't apologise, or try to make amends. You always act like other people are in the wrong for being angry with you when you've hurt them, especially me."
"I found the angelic rifle!" Loona said as she bolted to the door, pointing the barrel of the rifle between Stolas' eyes, "If you don't get out right now, I'm gonna blow your brains out. Leave my dad the fuck alone!"
Stolas gasped, unable to believe that he was being threatened by a lowly Hellhound. "Blitzø, control this vile Hellhound of yours"—
"Don't you fucking talk to my daughter like that, you blue blooded son of a bitch!" Blitzø shot back, "Loona, I'm gonna count back from ten, and if Stolas isn't gone by the time I reach ten, shoot him."
"Gladly," Loona responded, murderous rage burning in her eyes.
Stolas narrowed his eyes at Loona. "You wouldn't dare shoot me."
"Ten."
"I'm a Goetia! You'll hang for killing me!"
"You're not a Goetia anymore, so no one will care what happens to you," Loona growled, "Besides, you're trespassing on our property. We can kill you legally."
"Nine."
"Blitzø! You can't let her speak to me like that! Do something!"
"She can speak to you however the fuck she wants. Eight."
"Stop babbling, and start running away if you want to live, Stolas," Loona growled, cocking the rifle.
"Seven."
Stolas turned away from them as slowly and dramatically as he could, making sure to look Blitzø in the eyes so that he could see how sad he was. "Very well. If you both hate me so much, then I'd best be going."
"Go rot under a bridge for all I care!" Blitzø said coldly, not falling for his manipulative bullshit, "Six."
Finally defeated, Stolas ran out of the apartment building in tears. Loona put the rifle back in safety mode as Blitzø closed the door.
"Alright, it looks like he's gone," Blitzø sighed, "I thought that testifying against him at the trial would make him finally wake up and realise that I don't want him, but apparently not."
"Why is that owl prick so obsessed with you, anyway?" Loona responded, "You were never really friends. Cash rented you out to Stolas for one day, that was it."
"I know! Stupid prick thinks that I owe him my life because my dad rented me out to him for one day when we were kids," he sighed, "It doesn't matter now, though. He can't hurt me anymore."
Loona pulled out her phone. "You wanna order pizza, and watch Ghostfuckers while we wait for it to come?"
Blitzø sat back down on the couch. "Sounds like a plan, Looni," he said, wanting to forget all about Stolas. Tonight, all he'd wanted to do was watch Ghostfuckers with his daughter, and he wasn't going to let Stolas ruin that. Stolas wasn't going to ruin his quality time with someone he loved.
Stolas finally stopped running when he reached an empty underpass. It was raining now, and if he didn't find a place to stay soon, he'd have to sleep rough in the rain.
He wept quietly into his palms as the realisation that he was now completely alone dawned on him. He had nothing, and no one, not even Blitzø, to help him now. He'd have to get a job, and a new home all by himself, but there was no chance of him getting a job anytime soon. Who in Hell would hire a disgraced former prince who had allegedly refused to perform his royal duties? Not to mention, everyone in Hell thought that he was a rapist for what he had done to Blitzø, and no one would want to work with a so-called rapist. It wasn't fair. Nothing about this was fair. He hadn't even done anything wrong.
Stolas looked through his suitcase. Maybe if he sold some of his stuff, he'd make enough money to rent a room at a crappy motel for the night. A room at a crappy motel would at least be warm and dry.
He looked through his stuff, not registering the click of a sniper rifle being loaded, or pointed at his head. A little way away from the underpass, Striker was preparing to shoot the disgraced former prince.
"The target is in my sights, your majesty," Striker said as he held his phone to his ear.
Paimon gave a satisfied chuckle from the other end of the line. "Good. Now, all I want you to do is shoot him, understand me? My worthless son deserves to die a worthless, uneventful death for the embarrassment he has brought upon our family."
"Got it. One serving of fresh blue blood, coming right up," he responded, "You sure you don't want me to bring you his head, or anything?"
"No, shooting him dead will be enough," Paimon responded, opening his grimoire, "I'm casting a spell so that I can see you kill him now. Do not fuck this up."
"I never fuck up at anything," Striker said coolly, cocking his rifle, "One dead rapist, coming up in three, two, one!"
Stolas' train of thought came to a screeching halt as a bullet ripped through his skull. Striker put his finger against the former prince's aorta and felt for a pulse, wanting to ensure that he had finished the job. Stolas' heart slowed, and then stopped.
"He's dead, your majesty," Striker said with a satisfied smile as he walked away from Stolas' corpse.
Paimon smiled on the other end of the line. "Excellent."