Fizzarolli heard about the party in the gossip rags. He knew about it, of course, having been invited every year after Verosika and Blitzø broke up. He even attended a few times, when the hurt of the past was too fresh, and it had been nice to have someone to talk sh*t with. But after a few years, it got old and made him feel like he couldn’t move on. His performance schedule kept him too busy for nights like that, anyway.
This year the party had clearly been special. The tabloids devoted pages and pages to photos of none other than Prince f*cking Stolas up on stage, the curtain behind him proclaiming “f*ck You Blitzo.” Verosika and her bodyguard were next to him, singing back up.
It just doesn’t f*cking make sense because last Fizz heard, Blitzø was buying up a bunch of sh*t for a wild night with the owl, even taking one of their prototypes with him. Fizz had been sure the Dragon Driller would get the job done.
“Hey Ozz,” Fizz says, carrying the magazine into the bedroom with him. His giant boyfriend is still barely awake even though he used the airhorn twice. “You know anything about what’s going on with Stolas? Didn’t you give him the crystal?”
Ozzie grunts and grumbles a bit, stretching out his muscular arms. Fizz takes a moment to drool over them before he remembers that he’s on a hunt for the tea.
“Yeah, I gave him the crystal,” Ozzie says, voice still tinged with sleep. “Why, what’s up?”
“Look at this.” Fizz climbs up onto the bed and shoves the paper in Ozzie’s face. “Stolas was at the Anti-Blitzø Party last night.”
“Huh.” Ozzie’s head tilts and he runs his eyes over the text of the article quickly. “He told me he had feelings for him, though. Wonder what the f*ck happened.”
“Yeah. I think I need to check on Blitzø.” Fizz says. He gives Ozzie a quick kiss and jumps away before the King of Lust can tug him back down and distract him. He stretches one arm out until he can reach his phone on the other side of the room.
He dials Blitzø’s number over and over. No answer. Feeling a bit desperate, he calls the number for his business and finally the line picks up.
“Thank you for calling I.M.P., who can we kill for ya?” The voice is unfamiliar with a distinct accent. Wrath, probably.
“Uh, hi,” Fizz says, suddenly nervous. “Is Blitzø around?”
“Unfortunately the boss is out right now, but I’m happy to– wait, say something else?”
“Uh, something else?”
“Is this Fizzarolli?” the voice says. “Why are you callin’ here for Blitzø? Dontcha have his number?”
“Yeah, but he’s not answering.”
She hums and the sound is distinctly maternal. “Can ya stop by the office by any chance?”
**
Ozzie makes a portal for him so he doesn’t have to bother with the terrifying concept of being outside. Fizz steps into the I.M.P. Headquarters, marveling a little that his best friend managed to make all this, all on his own.
The office is empty save for two smaller imps – Blitzø’s employees, fellow assassins. And oh, sh*t, he’s pretty sure this is the couple he and Ozzie f*cking humiliated that one night. Yup, he recognizes the one with the bow tie – that’s the Moxxie guy with no creative stage name. And then his wife had f*cking tackled him. Awkward.
“...Hi,” Fizz starts, feeling his tail wind around his legs. Stupid nervous habit. “Uh, yeah, about that night. Sorry for uh, maybe going a little overboard. But also that song was sappy as f*ck.”
The couple shares a look and Fizz can practically hear the mental conversation happening, probably about whether to forgive him or kick his ass. f*ck, after seeing Blitzø fight he really don’t want to chance it with his employees.
“We’ll accept your not-really-an apology,” Moxxie says. “If you get Millie and I a free night at Ozzie’s to make up for it.”
“Done.” f*ck, what a relief. “Anyway, uh, have either of you seen Blitzø?” He waves the magazine still clutched in one hand.
“He called and said he needed the day off,” Millie says, shrugging. “What’s got you so worried?” She walks over and snatches the glossy pages from him, taking a moment to flip through it. Moxxie reads over her shoulder. “Oh, sh*t.”
“This is… not good,” Moxxie says, and his voice is getting steadily higher in pitch as he goes on. “Oh, f*ck, did he not come in because he doesn’t have the book anymore?” The guy looks like he’s about to start panicking, breaths coming out with a rasp.
“The book?” Fizz asks, f*cking confused. He watches Millie rub her husband’s back in an effort to calm him down. “What book?”
The two smaller imps look up at him, matching looks of worry on their faces. Moxxie’s mouth opens and closes.
“What’s going on? What happened? Please, just f*cking tell me,” Fizz finally says. “I helped him pick out all sorts of fun sh*t for their night. I don’t understand what went wrong.”
“Did Blitzø… tell you anythin’ about the thing with Stolas?” Millie starts. “Or, actually, anythin’ about the business in general?”
“You guys are like, assassins right? You go up and kill people on earth?” Fizz says, head tilting in confusion. “Ozzie told me Stolas asked for a crystal and everything.”
“Stolas asked for a crystal,” Moxxie says, his voice flat. “f*ck, oh f*ck.”
“What, isn’t the crystal a good thing? Much easier to travel that way, don’t have to worry about finding random portals and sh*t.”
“Right, right, yeah it’s a good thing,” Millie says, putting her hand over Moxxie’s mouth. “Will you give us just a moment?” The couple slips into an office nearby and shuts the door. Fizz can make out the sounds of furious whispers. He taps his feet on the rug beneath him and decides to try calling Blitzø again, who doesn’t answer.
The door opens and Millie peeks out, eyebrows pinched together. “We’re going to give his daughter a call. One sec.” And then the door closes again.
Fizz blows out a breath and looks around, noting the adoption certificate framed on the wall. A small smile pulls at his lips, knowing how much Blitzø talked about having a family when they were younger. He’s heard Blitzø go on and on about Loona several times at this point. Next to the frame, there are few other pages, many covered in familiar doodles. Fizz can remember the two of them sitting around small tables, drawing for hours as kids and then even later, as teens. Blitzø had thought about taking art classes, before everything went to sh*t.
Millie and Moxxie finally emerge from the office. Millie walks over to the desk and sits on the edge, legs swinging. “Loona said that he’s at home, but doing pretty rough.”
“I bet,” Fizz says. “Verosika doesn’t play around with that party and I imagine seeing Stolas there didn’t make it any better. Did you find out what happened?”
“Loona said she asked Blitzø a couple times, but he didn’t say anything. He’s got the crystal on his glove now, though, so that seemed to have worked out.” Moxxie says, but he doesn’t look happy about it.
“Well, let’s do something to cheer him up!” Fizz says, clasping his hands together. The pings of metal hitting metal ring out. “Do you think you can get him to come here?”
**
One confusing phone call to Ozzie and a few hours later, they’ve decked out the I.M.P. office with streamers, horse balloons, Blitzø’s favorite ice cream, and some homemade “You’re Pretty Okay” t-shirts. Not Fizz’s finest work, but it’ll do for a pinch.
Millie and Moxxie had called Blitzø and told him he needed to come in to handle an issue with a client. Fizz had heard the blare of his best friend’s voice from across the room and winced, knowing that he was lashing out. But clearly Moxxie and Millie know how to deal with him, because they got him to agree.
They’re arranging themselves around the office in prime positions when they hear the turning of the door knob. In walks Blitzø, looking more f*cking sad than Fizz has ever seen.
“Surprise!” they all cheer, hopping out of their very obvious hiding spots. Blitzø looks around the room and rubs his eyes roughly. Loona peers in from behind him.
“What the f*ck, guys,” he says. But Fizz can tell by his voice that he’s feeling more emotional than angry. “This is what I pay you two for?”
“Yup!” Millie says, voice full of cheer. Fizz can tell it’s a little false, a little put on, but it seems to make Blitzø lighten up. She tows her boss over to the ice cream and starts making him a bowl. Loona plops in the chair behind the desk and swipes some out of the carton with a claw.
Fizz walks over and puts a stupid party hat between his best friend’s horns, watching the way his gaze turns glassy with tears. They all make their way to the conference room so they can all sit down. An impromptu meeting or some sh*t. The room is quiet while they watch each other pick at their food. Finally, Blitzø breaks the awkward silence.
“Guessing you all heard?”
“Yeah, uh, don’t read any magazines,” Fizz says lightly.
Blitzø just sighs. “It’s fine. Not like I didn’t deserve it.”
“Sir, you know I am always first to name your faults, but even I have a hard time imaging what you did to earn an entire “Kill Yourself” party.” Moxxie says.
“I just f*ck everything up,” Blitzø says, putting his uneaten ice cream, now partially melted, on the table in front of him. “But the business is okay, no one needs to worry about that. We’ve got this fancy f*cking crystal thing now!” He waves one arm up, the yellow crystal attached to his glove. His mouth is stretched into a big grin, but the corners are crooked. Like it’s hard for him to hold the expression. Fizz half expects him to start twitching.
“You don’t f*ck everything up,” Loona says, kicking her feet up onto the table. Her tone is bored but her eyes dart up from her phone and towards her dad. “I’m better with you than on the streets, right?”
Blitzø looks up at her in shock and then his eyes really start to f*cking water. “Oh, Looney!” He climbs out of his chair and leaps towards her.
“One hug, ten seconds,” she sighs, letting her dad drape himself over her.
“Yeah, and I’d either be in jail or dead or still working for my dad, if I hadn’t met you,” Moxxie adds. “I’m not even sure which one of those things would be worse.”
Millie walks over and just lays a hand on Blitzø’s shoulder. Fizz can almost feel the way this is getting too overwhelming for their boss. Millie seems to know, too, so she doesn’t even say anything. Just grips the side of his arm in a light embrace.
“Woah, this is getting a little too cheesy,” the jester says, hopping up and stretching out his robotic limbs. “Show me where you keep all your cool action hero sh*t, Blitzø!”
Blitzø looks up at him and he can read his eyes like his own, can read the upset and the gratitude and the confusion. And then he mimics him, stretching his arms above his head, groaning as the bones in his spine snap.
“Fine, but don’t f*cking touch anything. I don’t want Ozzie on my ass if you get hurt.”
**
Later, once M&M have left to go home, Fizz finds himself sitting on the floor with his friend. Loona is still there, tucked in a corner with her phone, but Fizz can tell she’s keeping an eye on Blitzø – watching for the explosion they can all tell is still simmering underneath.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Fizz asks. He pulls a deck of cards out of his pocket and mindlessly starts shuffling them. Blitzø holds a hand out and Fizz gives him half of the deck.
“I f*cked it up again, Fizz,” His friend’s voice is gruff, tired. “I lost him.”
Fizz deals down a card. 9 of clubs. “You lost him? What do you mean?” Blitzø covers it with a 10 of hearts and takes both, leaving them face up next to him.
“He’s better off without me, I know that,” Blitzø says. “And it’s so f*cking stupid because what we had wasn’t even… we weren’t actually…” He lets out a sigh of frustration and deals down a card, a 4 of diamonds.
“You guys weren’t together?” Fizz asks. “Could’ve fooled me.” He lays down an 8 of spades and takes both for his pile.
Blitzø doesn’t say anything for a while. Fizz doesn’t push him, just continues laying down cards, relieved that Blitzø is okay enough to play a stupid game with him. It’s still surreal that they’re even hanging out like this after so much time.
“No, it was a deal. I didn’t think it could ever be more than that,” Blitzø admits quietly. Another card, a 7 of clubs.
“A deal?” Fizz asks. He draws 7 of hearts from his deck and the two begin the process of the “war” – each laying down three cards face down and then a fourth to settle the tie. Flipping the cards at the same time, Blitzø can’t help a chuff of victory when he sees his 10 of diamonds compared to Fizz’s 3 of spades.
“Oh, f*ck you.” Fizz says, frowning at his quickly diminishing pile of cards.
“You know I always win this game,” Blitzø says, ignoring the earlier question.
Which is fine, but Fizz is one stubborn motherf*cker. “So what was the deal?”
“Well,” Blitzø starts, and then pauses. Fizz watches his pupils shift as if he’s searching for the right words in his brain. “I f*cked him once a month and he let me borrow his fancy f*cking book to go topside.” Blitzø finally says, blunt and without feeling. As if he’s numb.
The cards in Fizz’s hands tumble onto the floor as he snaps his head to look at his friend.
“Wait, what the f*ck?” Fizz can only remember a few times when he’s been this f*cking floored. “Oh, sh*t, and then he asked Ozzie for the crystal. For you.”
“You knew about the crystal?” Blitzø says, expression warped with his anger. “What the f*ck, Fizz? A warning would’ve been nice!”
“How was I supposed to know that it was to settle this whole f*cked-up thing? I thought the Prince was being nice!” Fizz says defensively. “Ozzie said he came over, talking all about how he has feelings for you and wanted the crystal to help your business or whatever. And Ozzie actually said no until I told him it was cool.”
Blitzø is quiet again, just staring at the mess of cards between them.
“Okay,” Fizz says, watching his friend carefully. “Let’s run this back. You two had a f*cked up arrangement or whatever, but Stolas felt bad and wanted to give you the crystal so you could do your business sh*t without having to f*ck him. Then you f*cking freaked out – don’t look at me like that, I f*cking know you – because you didn’t think you could have something real with Stolas because of his princey bullsh*t. And then Stolas went to the party and sang a song about you?” Fizz lets his head fall into his hands, groaning. “f*cking Satan, you two are a like a soap opera or some sh*t.”
“Yeah, we’re a soap opera and Stolas wants a f*cking romcom where I chase him and stop him from getting on a train to London or whayever.” Blitzø bites out. “So yeah, I f*cked it up. Stolas somehow wanted something with me, but it doesn’t matter now.”
“What?” Fizz nearly shouts the word. He barely holds himself back from slapping his friend. “No you f*cking idiot! He wants something more and clearly you do, too!”
“Yeah, just f*cking get your sh*t together already,” Loona says from the corner, her voice annoyed.
“What if I ruin him?” Blitzø shouts back, standing up from the floor. He steps all over the cards as he begins pacing. “I f*cking ruin everything – I ruined you, Fizz. Nothing good will come of Stolas wanting to be with me.”
Fizz stands up, too, and watches Blitzø cross the room, back and forth. “You didn’t f*cking ruin me, you dipsh*t. We went over this. If you can f*cking blow me up and we’re fine now, I’m sure you and Stolas can get the f*ck over yourselves. You just need to admit that this has a whole lot more to do with your own fear and self hatred bullsh*t.”
Loona snaps her fingers in agreement, face turned back down towards her phone.
“Okay, sure, that’s me, what about Stolas?” Blitzø says. “He never even f*cking said sorry!”
“Oh he f*cking didn’t? Well, he will.” Fizz rushes to grab his phone out of his pocket, already dialing Ozzie’s number. “Ozzie is gonna be so f*cking pissed when he finds out about all this sh*t–”
“Wait, wait,” Blitzø grabs the phone from his hands. “Don’t. I don’t want him to get in trouble or anything.”
Fizz takes a second to clock how f*cking panicked Blitzø looks. “Fine, I won’t say anything to Ozzie.” Fizz watches Blitzø’s shoulders drop in relief. f*ck, it’s so f*cking obvious how much he cares about Stolas. “You f*cking idiot, you love him. Go f*cking tell him and then I’m signing you both up for couple’s therapy!”
“I don’t know if I can do that right now, Fizz,” Blitzø says. He starts f*cking pacing again, taking Fizz's phone as a hostage. "I mean, it never ends up good, right? And even if--"
A ping on Fizz’s phone makes Blitzø stop and the jester grabs it back quickly. A text from Ozzie, asking him to come back to the penthouse.
“You don’t have to do it now, but will you just think about it? I’ll even help you plan a whole f*cking thing if you want. Super romantic and gross,” Fizz says. He looks at his friend and tries to get a read on his mental state. “You gonna be okay if I leave?"
Loona finally gets up from the floor, cracking her back just like her dad. She comes to stand next to Blitzø and puts a hand on his shoulder. Blitzø smiles at her and his eyes are glassy again.
“Yeah, thanks Fizz. And I’ll… think about it.”
**
Now, Fizz is an honest man. He said he wouldn’t say anything to Ozzie. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t gonna say anything to Stolas.
The palace in front of him is daunting – towers and large windows, each displaying the Prince’s sigil neatly set in stained glass. Fizz climbs up the stairs and knocks at the door. Nothing. He tries again. He almost texts Ozzie, but how the f*ck can he ask him to portal him inside the f*cking Goetian palace without spilling why he’s there?
Luckily, the door finally opens. A tall owl, probably a teenager, stands in the frame. Her gray feathers are messy and her beanie is pulled low over her face. “What the f*ck?”
“Wow, what a hello,” Fizz says. “Is Prince Stolas home?”
“Yeah, but why would I let you in?” She says, voice angry and bitter. Distrusting. Her whole vibe reminds him of Loona. “Aren’t you that f*cking clown that harassed him at that club?”
“Oh, uh, you saw that?”
“Yeah, I have a f*cking phone.”
“Well, I’m actually here to apologize to him!” Fizz says, lying through his f*cking teeth. “You know, since he and Ozzie are friends.”
The owl’s eyes narrow at him for a second before she shrugs and opens the door more fully, letting Fizz step inside.
The interior of the palace is cavernous, all high ceilings and long hallways. The click of his metal shoes on the floor echoes back at him. The girl leads him out to a lush garden, complete with a pool. f*ck, Fizz should tell Ozzie to get a pool.
“Dad?” the girl asks, and they both watch Stolas choke a bit on the wine he’s drinking before he looks over. The glass tips in his hand, spilling the red liquid on the cobblestone. His eyes dart from his daughter to Fizzarolli and then widen almost comically.
“Why–”
“Thanks for leading me here, sweetie, you can go now,” Fizz says. “Want to make sure your dad and I can really talk things out.” The princess definitely gives him a side eye but marches off the way only a sullen teenager can. Fizz figures it’s because she knows her dad can flay him if he steps out of line.
“Prince Stolas,” Fizz says. “Hitting the wine a little early today?”
“Fizzarolli,” Stolas greets, giving him some really bitchy eyebrows. And he should know, he patented that sh*t. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” f*ck, his voice is kind of condescending. Fizz can feel his lip curling up and he works hard to calm down. Approach this somewhat decently, for Blitzø's sake.
“Well, I saw some interesting pictures of you at a certain party," Fizz says.
Stolas scoffs. The sound rankles something in Fizz's chest. “Here on Blitzø’s behalf? Really?”
“Yeah, really," Fizz bites out. "He told me about the f*cking deal.”
The angry look on Stolas’ face drops immediately. “He did?”
“Yup," Fizz ends the word with a pop. "So, you wanna explain how you went from giving him the crystal to singing with Verosika on stage?”
“He just made me so angry!” Stolas cries, standing up from the chaise. He f*cking paces just like Blitzø. These two are such f*cking idiots. “I tried to tell him how much I cared, that I wanted him to stay, but he didn't understand! And it's fine that he doesn't return my feelings, but then he came over again this morning and kept trying to just, go back to how it was! And he wouldn't leave when I asked!"
"Yeah, sounds like him. Really digging his heels in, the stubborn f*ck," Fizz sighs.
"Exactly! And he ignores my feelings no matter how many times I tell him," Stolas says. "Just keeps going on and on about how I'm a prince and there's no way--"
“Okay, but did you think the transition from transactional royal f*cktoy to boyfriend was gonna be smooth?” Fizz asks, a little incredulous.
“He wasn’t a f*cktoy! That’s not– that’s not what it was!” Stolas says, running a hand roughly down his face. “I never treated him as such!”
“Stolas, all due respect, but maybe you're not the one who gets to decide if Blitzø felt like a fetish,” Fizz says. “He told me that you just have a kink for the lower class or some sh*t. That’s how he f*cking felt.”
“He said that?” Stolas asks, anger simmering down into something else that Fizz can't read. The prince cringes into himself, prim posture falling into a slouch.
“Yeah, I mean, did he mention any of that to you?” Fizz says. “It seems to really f*cking bother him."
A creak of a door behind them makes them both turn around, watching as a tiny imp butler comes in, mops up the wine spill, and replaces Stolas’ glass with practiced precision. Fizz looks meaningfully from the butler to Stolas and waits for the Prince to f*cking catch up.
The butler leaves silently, like he was never there, and then it’s just Fizz watching Stolas’ face change and his eyes drop to the ground. So much f*cking sadness there, the same way Blitzø looks right now.
“He did say… that I was treating him like one of my butlers…” Stolas says. He plops down on his chair and his head falls into his hands, shoulders shaking. Oh, Satan, Fizz made him cry. “f*cking Hell, I f*cked it all up didn’t I?”
“The two of you sound exactly the same right now and it’s making me a little sick,” Fizz says, rolling his eyes. “Look, I get you don’t look down on Blitzø or whatever. But it matters to him, and he’s the one who has to deal with this kind of sh*t every f*cking day. All this aside, I don't think you're realizing something.”
"What?"
"He keeps coming back, Stolas. He keeps trying to talk to you," Fizz says, voice a little softer.
"He came to the party," Stolas admits. "We spoke but I... can't remember much of it."
"Yeah, well, the way you're day drinking probably isn't doing you any favors." Fizz steps back, emotionally exhausted. He’s gonna ask Ozzie for a massage after all this fairy godmother bullsh*t. “You two are running circles around each other. Just f*cking stop and talk. You’re literally in the same book, just not on the same page. And Ozzie said you love words, so f*cking use them.”
“Okay,” Stolas nods, sniffling. Small tracks of mascara run down his cheeks. He wipes at them clumsily. “Thank you, Fizzarolli.”
“Sure, and I’m gonna leave you my number so you can workshop your f*cking apology. The one you really need to give, and soon.” Fizz pulls out his phone and asks for the Prince's number, plugging it into a new contact. He saves it under Lovesick Dumbass #1 and then changes Blitzø's name to Lovesick Dumbass #2.
Which reminds him that he isn't supposed to be here right now. Fizz looks up at the Prince of Hell in front of him and frowns. “Oh, and please don’t tell Blitzø I did this."
"Why not?" The owl looks truly confused and it would be funny if Fizz wasn't being completely serious.
"Because I’m pretty sure he’ll beat my ass for making you cry."
