Chapter Text

DAY 1: Dad Mugs

He took a sip of his morning coffee as he continued reading the newspaper. Yes, it was a bit old-fashioned in a digital age where everything was dictated by what a mobile app and a bunch of hotheads behind it said, but he kept reading the print edition.

Not that it said anything interesting, either. He folded it over on itself, stubbornly covering up the damn news story he’d just read. He presses the bridge of his nose beneath his gold-rimmed glasses, snorting.

“You know what?” said a voice behind him. “No matter how much you beat it, it’s not going to go away.”

Alastor looked up to find a Husk loaded to the brim with boxes. “Why don’t you just get back to work and stop meddling in my business?”

“Because you won’t stop wallowing in your own misery and help out like everyone else?” the man replied. “The kids are about to arrive, and you’re still wallowing over something you can’t change. Get a move on.”

And with that, he grabbed the boxes tightly and turned away.

Alastor snorted. That grumpy guy was right. He wasn’t going to be able to change anything, the bid he’d made for the camp and its land had been outbid, and by a wide margin. He’d lost it, this would be the last year before those idiots took it over.

He finished his coffee and headed behind the cabin.

The monitors’ and park management area was the one closest to the entrance of the entire grounds. Several cabins with dorms, some shared bathrooms, the main dining hall, and the administrative area. All of that was already set up, after all, they’d been organizing everything for nearly a week in preparation for tomorrow, when families would start dropping off their kids to spend four weeks with the staff. Fresh air, activities, sports, nature, and starlit nights.

Alastor loved that damn camp. Yes, it wasn’t the most modern, it didn’t have the same facilities as others that have been advertised lately. But that’s where its charm lies. His mother had worked there as a cook every summer for as long as he could remember, and he’d spent them with her—first as a camper and later as a monitor. At least, until she passed away a few years ago from that damn cancer.

He doesn’t know why he kept coming back—maybe because the good memories always outweighed the bad ones. Last year he decided he wouldn’t come back anymore… not after that damn night. But as soon as he found out the owners were selling the land, he tried to buy it… his meager savings as a radio host in the city were no match for that damn corporate conglomerate.

So here he is… saying goodbye to what has been a big part of his life.

“Hi, Alastor!” The cook greeted him from behind the counter. No one knew how she managed to work when she could barely reach the top cabinets.

“Hi, Niffty,” he replied, setting the box of soup cans on the counter. “Is everything ready yet?”

She climbed onto a stool to peer out from behind the table. “Yeah, of course—what do you take me for? Everything’s clean, tidy, and organized to feed all those hungry beasts.”

Alastor chuckled softly. They’d hired Niffty the year after his mother’s death. They’d offered him the job—his cooking skills were almost as good as hers—but he’d turned it down. His heart was too broken at the time.

The petite Asian woman had proven to be a very worthy successor, preparing interesting meals that the kids loved. And she was efficient, clean, and organized. Maybe… she was a little too clean and organized… Every year, there’s a student who ends up drenched in cleaning supplies for sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong and trying to steal from her.

“I expected nothing less,” he replied.

Outside, the morning is still cool, the temperature has barely risen to what it will be for the rest of the day. In any case, it never gets too hot, which is something Alastor appreciates. Having been born in Louisiana, where summers are sticky, this inland area is a pleasant respite. Trees surround the camp, revealing clearings where the grass grows greener, giving it the charm of a fairy-tale forest.

His steps lead him to the cabin of the camp's director—for now, at least. Old Zestial is an elderly man, much more agile than he appears for his age, stoic, calm, and always intriguing.

“Good morning, Alastor. How has the forest treated us this morning?” His view of the forest as an individual entity with which one must cooperate no longer surprises him.

“Fine so far. Almost everything’s ready for tomorrow; we’ll finish checking the campers’ cabins this afternoon.”

“Good, good…” Zestial had a habit of getting lost in his thoughts. “I’m sorry it wasn’t you who ended up taking over the camp.” He then resurfaced with a comment aimed straight for the jugular.

Alastor hummed. “Yeah, me too… I hope the new owners don’t ruin it.” He said this knowing it was a hopeless hope.

The man’s dark eyes looked at him with interest. “Oh, yeah… I hope so too… Although maybe we should focus on the present rather than the future.”

He nodded, not knowing what to say. Sometimes Zestial was a complete enigma. Some counselors said it was because of his age, but Alastor saw in his gaze the same thing he saw in his mother’s: a wisdom that many will never find.

“Alastor, honey!” a voice called from one of the campers’ cabins furthest from the entrance. “Come on, come help me with this.”

He smiled amusedly at his friend. “Rosie, of course. What does the most beautiful lady in these parts need?” he said.

She playfully tapped him on the arm. “Come on, don’t be such a smooth talker. We still have plenty to do!”

He followed her inside, where the beds still needed a little tidying up. They worked diligently while gossiping like bored old ladies. “And tell me… do you think anything interesting will happen around here this year?” she said, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

Alastor froze for a moment. He knew what she was hinting at, but he’d rather die than admit anything. “What do you mean?”

She looked at him with feigned disappointment. “Come on, Alastor, don’t tell me you didn’t notice?” She continued, tucking another blanket into place. “Last year, that little handsome blond king couldn’t take his eyes off you. Maybe you should have done something then, but you still have a chance! I’ve heard he’s coming back to be a monitor this year, too!”

Her excitement stood in stark contrast to Alastor’s inner agony. Rosie is a textbook gossip; she knows everything—or, thank God, almost everything—that goes on at that damn camp. If she knew about that night, she’d torture him mercilessly.

“You’re imagining things, dear.”

“I saw how you were looking at him, too. Don’t you dare lie to me.” Rosie spoke without looking at him as she finished making the last bed.

And thank goodness for that.

Otherwise, she would have missed Alastor’s expression when a fleeting memory flashed through his mind—of that man’s hands tangled in his hair while his tongue left him breathless. His legs trembled momentarily before he remembered how it had ended.

No, it wasn’t going to happen.

That’s why he didn’t want to go back—life hadn’t just taken his mother away, it had also saddled him with the romantic luck of someone with a gambling problem.

He shook his head to shake off the image of that man’s gaze, so he could get back to what he was doing and leave Rosie to her crazy ideas. It was for the best.

Although, of course… you can’t speak of the Devil without summoning him.

The drive along the final stretch of road before reaching the campsite is almost his favorite part. It’s when the asphalt gives way to dirt, when the trees begin to arch over the road, and when everything starts to smell like wet earth.

His daughter smiles affectionately out the window, looking dreamy, it reminds him of when he was much younger and everything felt less oppressive. In the back seat, her girlfriend, Vaggi, is dozing against the window, snoring softly. Next to her, his daughter’s friend, Ángel, is playing with his phone while sucking on a piece of candy.

All the joy he feels is momentarily stifled when the camp’s entrance arch comes into view. This is the last year he’ll be able to enjoy this. Not only because his daughter and her friends are already too old to return as campers… but also because of the whole mess surrounding the sale and transfer of the land.

He’d really enjoyed it… he’s madly regretting not having found out sooner that the sale had closed… maybe he could have bid on it himself… kept it as a place of fond memories.

Lilith has insisted that he needs to focus on the positive, but he doesn’t know if he can. When she left him after so many years, his whole life fell apart. Putting his life back together is something he’s not handling very well. No, he’s handling it pretty badly, even though it’s been several years since the divorce. He’s very grateful that they’ve remained friends, but seeing her move forward with her new relationship while he remains stuck has really taken a toll on his spirits.

He had found in this godforsaken place a space to relax and heal.

Until that damn year ago.

If it weren’t for Charlie, he wouldn’t have signed up to be a camp monitor again.

Just the thought of running into that jerk again fills him with a mix of anger and shame. How he’d let himself get carried away, how good it had felt, the anxiety that had consumed him the moment he realized what had happened…

No… this year he’s going to avoid him like the plague.

Yes.

That’s what he’s going to do.

He parks the car in the monitors’ parking lot just in time for lunch. He leaves his daughter in charge of waking up Vaggi while he heads over to the administration cabin to report his arrival.

“Ah, Lucifer. Welcome.” Zestial greets him. “It’s always a pleasure to have you around here.”

At first, he thought Zestial’s way of speaking was a way of thanking him for the donations he and Lilith had made every year since Charlie started attending every summer.

Then he realized that wasn’t the case—the man was stuck in a century that wasn’t his own. It was endearing in a way.

“Of course,” Lucifer smiled. “It’s a tragedy that this is the last year, but I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The man nodded with the calmness of someone who had seen many autumns pass. “I’m glad there was nothing that kept you from being with us.”

He smiled nervously at the cryptic nature of the message but let it slide. Sometimes it’s better not to overthink what Zestial says… you might end up looking up synonyms in a classic English dictionary.

As he walks out of the cabin toward the car, he’s about to turn back to look for that damn dictionary. Standing next to his daughter, her girlfriend, her friend, and the hundreds of suitcases they’d brought are several camp monitors. Rosie, always pleasant and smiling, is hugging her daughter fervently, and Alastor is already holding some of his bags with his hands.

Those hands… damn… he still remembers them gripping his shoulders tightly while he…

No, Lucifer, wrong, wrong, damn it, no.

Not now.

Not now, not ever.

It shouldn’t have happened before either, but he doesn’t think he could count the number of times he’s masturbated while thinking about that damn night.

But he’s not going to do it anymore.

He takes a deep breath, relaxes enough to control the erection that threatened to immobilize him, and approaches the group with his best smile.

“Hi, Rosie! It’s so great to see you again!”

Is he deliberately avoiding greeting Alastor?

Yes, perhaps.

“Lucifer, dear!” She comes over to hug him. “We’re so lucky to have you back here!”

“Yeah. We’re so lucky you didn’t decide to bother someone else.” Alastor’s voice was too close for his liking.

That asshole.

He turns his face to glare at him. “Well, you should be grateful, busboy. I don’t know if you’d be able to do most of these activities if no one helped you.”

The twitch in his eye tells Lucifer he’s hit the mark. “Let me remind you that I’m the monitor leader, and you’re just a rich kid with too much free time and no friends.”

That man’s tall, lanky, wiry, and muscular frame looms over him, and Lucifer feels himself burning up inside.

He shoves him angrily to hide the heat he was feeling. “Yeah, yeah, you feel like such a leader for four weeks a year. Let me remind you that I run a multinational corporation.” He picks up some of the stuff from the floor to start carrying it to his daughter’s cabin. “I choose to spend my time here because I love the place and the people. Well, except for you.”

“You won’t like him enough if you haven’t saved him from the fate that awaits him.” Alastor’s voice faded as he walked away toward the dining cabin.

Lucifer felt a weight in his stomach, as if he’d swallowed a rock at the comment.

“Don’t pay any attention to him,” Rosie said. “He’s upset because he doesn’t know what the new owners will do.”

Lucifer nodded, letting the comment slide and focusing on his daughter and her friends, who were already heading into the depths of the forest, oblivious to what had just happened. But Alastor was right—he didn’t know much about the new buyers, but what he’d heard wasn’t good for the camp.

His daughter’s cabin was one of the nicest, if you asked him. One of the perks of having a dad who’s a camp counselor is arriving a day early so you can reserve the best room. Its porch overlooked the lake behind the camping areas, and although it was the farthest from the rest of the woods, it also had the most space.

All the campers’ cabins had six beds, a storage area, and a small interior porch. The cabins didn’t have bathrooms; there was a communal one for all the kids in the center of the cabin area. They didn’t have kitchens either; everything was handled through the cafeteria run by Niffty, a quirky but efficient woman.

At least she hasn’t poisoned them with her strange recipes.

Lucifer barely remembers the woman who used to work in the kitchen. Everyone misses her dearly, but since it was his first year here, right after his divorce, his memories are… slightly hazy.

When they go to get food, Lucifer notices that Alastor is nowhere to be found.

It’s not like he was looking for him.

He doesn’t.

He’s just an observant man.

“Well, well!” Ángel’s voice catches his attention. “Hi, kitty, I’m Ángel. Nice to meet you… and other things…”

The boy leans seductively over the table as Husk, another of the regular monitors, walks by.

The man snorts and rolls his eyes. “Is he yours?” He points at him while looking at Lucifer.

The blond man shrugs. “He’s a friend of my daughter’s. Ángel, this is Husk, he’s one of the monitors.”

“And does that mean anything?” the platinum-blond insisted.

“It means he could be your father, stop acting like that!” Husk threw up his hands in exasperation.

Ángel’s lanky, elegant frame settled onto the table. “Don’t get the wrong idea, I know I’ve held up well, but I’m much older than I look,” he said, winking at him. “Besides, I love it when you have claws… kitty.” He purred mischievously.

Husk stared at Lucifer with wide eyes, unable to believe what was happening. At that moment, Charlie spoke up.

“Ángel had to take our course three times, but this year he graduated. . . with honors!” His daughter was beaming. She had worked all year helping that young man so he could graduate. It’s true they hadn’t gotten into any colleges, but that didn’t discourage her, and she plans to keep helping him when September rolls around.

“That makes me the sexiest camper who can drink for miles around.”

“How come you can attend as a camper, then?” the man asked.

“Because I’m special, interesting, and cute?” Ángel kept flirting across the table. “Or as a reward for my great efforts. Whichever option you like best.”

Husk decided he’d had enough, he picked up the tray he’d left on the table and walked away grumbling. “As if I’d ever let you drink alcohol.”

“Angel….” Vaggi’s voice sounded exhausted. “In less than an hour, you’ve managed to piss off a monitor and cause a mess in the cabin.”

Lucifer looked up from his meal. “What did you say you did in the cabin?”

Charlie waved her hands in front of her to deny anything her girlfriend might have said. “Nothing, Dad! Nothing happened!”

Lucifer chuckled quietly. He knew he’d have to be more… lenient this year. His little girl wasn’t so little anymore, and she deserved to have an unforgettable summer.

Alastor woke up feeling refreshed, full of energy, and eager to face the day ahead…

And with the feeling that something bad was going to happen, though he didn’t know why.

He’d managed to actively avoid Lucifer since their disagreement yesterday, which had put him in a very good mood that morning. Parents were arriving well ahead of time to drop off their children, and cabin assignments hadn’t turned into the usual disaster just yet. Give it time.

“Come on, come on!” Rosie could be heard as she guided another group toward their cabins. “Don’t dawdle! The sooner we get there, the sooner you can go to the lake!”

Alastor laughed and shook his head. “All right, who’s coming with me?” In front of him, another group of campers was crowding together, some younger ones looking at him expectantly, and others older, with that ‘I don’t care about any of this’ expression that teenagers have.

“Well…” began a girl with vibrant red hair. “Where do you say we can do interesting things?”

Alastor started walking, dragging the motley crew along with him.

“Cherri!” replied a tall boy with glasses and long hair. “Don’t say that, we’re out in nature! I’m sure there are tons of things to do!”

She smacked his arm. “Don’t be silly. You think it’s crap just like I do… we’re only here because we have to.”

“It’s going to be so much fun!” a child’s voice rang out from the back, drowning out the redhead’s complaints. “There’s a lake, a barbecue, we’ll hide in the woods…”

“Ah, ah,” Alastor interrupted. “I wouldn’t recommend doing that.”

Silence fell behind him, and a mischievous smile crossed his face.

“And why’s that?” someone dared to ask from behind.

“You’ll find out…”

He loved creating uncertainty before the first night, it was almost the most fun part of this summer job.

The first to leave his group were the youngest ones, who stayed in one of the cabins closest to the entrance. He left them getting settled and headed to the end of the line with the remaining three.

“Well, here we are. This will be your home for the next few weeks.” The door opened, and a beaming Charlie rushed toward the new kids.

“Hi! Welcome!” she said, almost shouting. “I’m Charlie, nice to meet you. These are Vaggi and Ángel, and we’re going to have a GREAT time!”

Her overflowing excitement and the lack of pauses between sentences left the new recruits stunned.

“Hi,” the redhead chimed in. “I’m Cherri. This is Pentius, but you can call him Pen. And I don’t know who this guy is,” she said, pointing to the third companion, a quiet kid who was looking at everyone rather fearfully.

“I’m… I’m Greg.” He was barely audible over the chirping of the cicadas.

But that didn’t seem to stop Charlie, who rushed over to her new roommates to help them settle in. Alastor could see Charlie’s girlfriend, a petite girl with hair falling over one eye, staring at him solemnly. She took a deep breath before stepping inside and closing the door behind her.

He didn’t know that girl very well. Charlie had introduced her to him last year, and since then they’d barely exchanged a few words. She was serious, introverted, and somewhat distant, the complete opposite of the ray of sunshine that is Charlie Morningstar.

Alastor smiled tenderly as he made his way toward the main cabin. He’d known her for several years, ever since her parents started bringing her to camp and, while they were at it, staying on as monitors during the summer. She was cheerful, lively, and talkative. She’d be capable of befriending a rock and negotiating with it to help her save a squirrel in a tree.

Although she’d gotten her height from her mother, Lilith, everything else undeniably came from Lucifer…

And there he was again, thinking about that idiot…

Damn it… what I’d give to not have screwed things up last year.

While some monitors were in charge of assigning the children to their groups, others, those who had just arrived, like him, were being briefed on the activities planned for this year.

Along with him were half a dozen adults between the ages of twenty and forty, listening intently to the instructions from Carmilla Carmine, the camp’s second-in-command, who was in charge of coordinating activities with the various schools that had been invited to the camp.

“As I was saying, this year we’re going to try to organize the activities so that we can mix the groups.” Carmilla handed out sheets listing schedules, workshops, sports, and activities, as well as their own schedules and assigned groups. “We always end up splitting up, and that prevents the group from coming together. I’d appreciate it if you could cooperate as much as possible this year.”

“Ugh… it’s just that I always get stuck with the biggest idiots…” Adam’s voice rang out behind him, the most insufferable monitor Lucifer had ever had the misfortune to meet.

“Well, get your act together and do your job, slacker,” Zezzi said. A young woman who’d been with them for a couple of years always managed to make her groups the rowdiest of the summer. “I’ve got to keep them entertained somehow…”

The two monitors seemed to be locked in a personal battle to see who had the most problematic groups.

“Well, this year it won’t be with sparklers or strategically placed buckets of water.”

“Always taking away the real fun… this is going to feel like a prison,” the man grumbled while Zezzi laughed.

Carmilla sat down at the table and pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose. “Let me remind you that this is the last year… we don’t know what will happen next year… so… let’s try to make everything go as smoothly as possible so everyone leaves with good memories.”

Lucifer glanced at his schedule. It looked more like a children’s activity plan than a camp. Every day they had workshops for some kind of craft, sports, and group activities… They barely had any free time.

I’m going to be completely wiped out every night….

By the time they left that meeting, all the new campers were already in their assigned cabins. With a spring in his step, he headed to his daughter’s cabin. Because the camp was so isolated, cell phones served no purpose other than as cameras. The only ones that could be used to communicate with the outside world were in the administration cabin, connected via a satellite system that allowed them to call in case of an emergency.

His daughter’s voice drifted out through the open windows of what would be her home for the summer. “Yes!! It’s great! You’ll see. The lake at night is beautiful, there’s a clearing inland where we can build a campfire!”

“That sounds dangerous,” said a trembling voice from inside.

“Only if you do it without protection,” Ángel flirted.

The blond guy chuckled under his breath as he knocked on the door. Vaggi opened it, serious as always, but with a hint of wanting to kill someone… someone who was surely named Ángel… if he kept up with his cheeky comments.

“Good afternoon, everyone! I’m Lucifer, and I’ll be your monitor this summer.” He introduced himself, letting the newcomers focus on him.

“I’m also Charlie’s dad, so… don’t give her too much sugar.”

A redheaded girl laughed as Charlie blushed with embarrassment.

“Yeah, please don’t…”

“Vaggi!” she shouted, glaring at her daughter in offense.

He clapped his hands in the air to get everyone’s attention again and began explaining the schedule, the workshops, and what was expected of them.

The usual.

No trouble, no fights, no stealing, or anything like that.

Always pay attention to what their monitor tells them.

Never go into the woods alone.

Respect the cabins, their own and everyone else’s.

“And now…” He led them outside. “Let’s kick off the summer!”

Alastor always thought Carmilla looked more like a mafia boss than a camp coordinator.

Either that, or she's mistaken and thinks this is a forced-labor camp.

The kids who are with him during this activity must be thinking more or less the same thing, judging by the looks on their faces as they try to paint those damn mugs.

“Come on, guys, see? It’s not that hard!” Lucifer’s voice drills into his skull.

Since he’s been stuck with him for most of the activities, this is something he’ll have to sit down and talk to Zestial about. Although the old bastard will probably just stare at him like he’s a piece of furniture and tell him, “These things happen.”

He’s sure Zestial did it just to annoy him.

But there he is, him, Lucifer, and Rosie leading their group of teenagers in painting some mugs that, in Carmilla’s words, they’ll be using throughout their entire stay at camp. Activities falling under the banner of ecology, reuse, and some other buzzword from the industry to ban the use of plastics wherever possible.

So… pottery.

Maybe he should be grateful that it’s just painting, if they’d had to mold them too, he would’ve had to set himself on fire before agreeing to it.

Because, of course, the monitors have to lead by example.

There he is… staring at his mug as if it had done him some kind of personal wrong. The deer head he’d been trying to paint for at least an hour was looking worse and worse.

This is exasperating.

His things are words, wit, and quick thinking. Even physical activities! This… this is torture.

“Dad! It looks great!” Charlie fawned over her father as he strutted around.

Alastor looked up to find a huge yellow monstrosity painted on the front of the white mug. A duck, almost a caricature of what the real animal should look like, but with a level of detail and quality that left ninety percent of the other drawings in the dust.

He could almost feel the envious stares of some of the kids around him.

Well, at least I’m not the only one who hates it.

Alastor gave up, leaving his monstrosity on the table and trying to step in to help the campers with less artistic and more practical tasks like cleaning and keeping things tidy, and preventing the usual fights that broke out when too many hormones were crammed into the same space.

“I don’t know why we have to do this crap!” a boy shouted from the back tables.

“Chaz… come on…” a classmate next to him tried to calm him down.

“No… I didn’t sign up for this. I want to go to the lake, climb the trees, and find the prettiest girl at camp… this is nonsense.” The guy named Chaz threw his half-painted cup onto the table, with the bad luck that the damn thing slipped and tumbled off the other end onto the floor.

The sound of the ceramic shattering brought silence.

“Hey!” Alastor approached the table in question. “I think that for your first day, you’re starting to cross lines that aren’t in your best interest.”

Chaz looked at him with a crooked smile. “What’s it to you? I’ve seen what you’ve painted, too, and it’s still just crap,” he said haughtily.

The rest of the campers held their breath. The veterans already knew not to piss off Alastor, the newcomers followed their lead. This last one… seemed to ignore all the warning signs.

As if an aura of darkness were hovering around him, Alastor leaned in toward Chaz to start giving him the lecture of his life when a voice, almost a whisper, distracted him.

He turned around to find Lucifer looking away with a guilty expression. “What the hell did you say?” He was furious at that kid’s attitude, and if Lucifer wanted to be his next victim, so be it.

“I…” The blond stammered. “I just said he does have a point.”

Alastor stared at him in shock. He raised an eyebrow questioningly. “What?”

“Let’s see.” Lucifer’s voice came out in a rush, struggling to strike a balance between an excuse and an apology. “Well, we can’t teach what we don’t know, right? I mean… yeah, the kid’s frustrated and all, but you can’t really say much either, you almost deserve the same fate as his mug and…”

Alastor was standing there, fists at his sides, still tense from Chaz’s behavior. Rosie exchanged glances with them, looking as if she were waging an internal battle to figure out the missing piece. Charlie gasped behind her father’s back. No one understood a thing.

“I… well…” Lucifer kept talking, oblivious to his surroundings.

“Dad.” Charlie walked over to her father. “What you're saying is really awful.”

The man turned to his daughter, feeling the weight of everyone’s gaze upon him. “Charlie, I…”

“Not everyone has your talent… would you tell me my drawing is ugly, too?” said the girl, holding her cup, a veritable assault on design and purely descriptive art.

“No! No, sweetheart, I wouldn’t dream of it! I…” You could see sweat trickling down his temples as the seconds ticked by.

She said nothing, she walked over to the table where Alastor’s abomination rested and set her cup down next to it. Now it was Rosie’s turn to stifle a laugh. Both of their drawings were, to put it mildly, hideous, straight out of some sick person’s nightmares.

Lucifer, seeing what his daughter was getting at, managed to suppress a grimace that Alastor did notice. “Come on, Charlie… it was just a joke!”

But his daughter looked disappointed as she returned to her seat.

“Enough already!” With a clap of her hands, Rosie regained control of the room.

“Chaz, I hope you realize you’re going to miss the first day of camp.”

“No! But it’s just that…” The boy suddenly came to his senses.

“No way, you’re going to stay here fixing and repainting your mug, and when you’re done, we’ll see if I change my mind. Besides…” A wicked smile, one Alastor had only seen on her from time to time, spread across her face. “Since it looks like we’re all done, I’m sure Lucifer won’t mind staying to fix all the little details for anyone who wants him to… right?”

Alastor couldn’t contain his pride in his friend. The blond turned several shades paler, which was already difficult considering his skin was almost alabaster. “I… yes, of course!” The feigned emotion behind those words only filled Alastor with a deep sense of satisfaction.

A few minutes later, the only ones left in the room were Chaz, absorbed in repainting a new mug at an astonishing speed, and a frustrated Lucifer, buried under dozens of requests for painting touch-ups.

Alastor would have left the room without saying a word. That’s what he should have done, ignore him, push him to the back of his mind, brush him off, avoid any conversation beyond what was necessary…

“You’re a real idiot.” However, he moved close enough so the camper wouldn’t hear a thing. “Even your daughter has to keep you in check.”

“Shut up… I don’t want to hear it.” The man was focused on fixing a dying flower on one of the surfaces and didn’t even look up to answer you. “What the hell do you care…”

Alastor was about to retort, a sharp, scathing reply, one that, over a year ago, would have come as easily to him as breathing. Right now, he didn’t really feel like it. He turned around as he spoke to himself. “I do…”

The brown-haired man didn’t notice the tension in Lucifer, how tightly he was gripping that paintbrush, or how he was closing his eyes, waiting for it all to blow over.

He felt stiff, and his back ached. He didn’t know how many damn hours he’d been hunched over those damn cups.

Damn it… this is that idiot’s fault…

“I do…”

No… no, that’s a lie, it’s a fucking mistake.

Last year was a mistake, the whole thing. It had been fun, the jokes between them had felt nice… and then that damn night screwed everything up.

Or was it Lucifer who screwed it up…

He…

“Dad?” Charlie’s voice came from the cabin entrance. “Are you still here?”

“Hi, sweetie.” He turned his head to look at her. The afternoon light was falling on the treetops, and the orange hue of the sky tinged the blonde hair on her head with a beautiful copper color. “Yeah, I’m almost done.”

“I think Rosie went too far with your punishment.”

“Pun… punishment?” Lucifer felt embarrassment flush his face. “No, no, Charlie, it’s not a punishment—it’s a way to help, to…”

“It’s punishment for being a jerk.” She looked at him with those narrowed eyes her mother used when she knew the lie was pathetic.

The blond nodded slightly. “Yeah… okay… maybe that wasn’t my best comment.”

“Come on, let’s go to the bonfire, they’re getting dinner ready.”

Lucifer glanced at the table, there was still someone’s cup sitting there, forgotten… “I only have one left…”

“Never mind. That person will just have to understand that there isn’t enough light to work.” His daughter took his hand and stood up.

The fresh air outside ruffled his hair and filled his lungs. The night was clear, with no clouds to block their view of the stars that would appear in a few minutes. The scent of the pine needles was a delight and accompanied him all the way as he walked alongside his daughter, who told him about what they’d done that afternoon while he’d spent his little free time on his… ahem, punishment…

“So Greg jumped into the lake with us, Dad!” she exclaimed proudly. “He’s a really shy guy, but I think we’re going to be really good friends this summer.”

“I’m glad to hear that, sweetheart.”

“And Cherri is great, she’s so cool. Vaggi says she thinks Cherri’s hiding firecrackers somewhere, but oh well…”

Lucifer picked up on some key words that snapped him back to reality. “Charlie, honey, you know those are forbidden…”

She clamped her mouth shut and glanced sideways at her father. “Yeah, yeah, sure, sure. It’s true… don’t worry, Vaggi’s just too cautious, but I don’t think so.”

The lie on his daughter’s lips revealed a cruel truth to him: the Morningstars don’t know how to lie. He smiled affectionately at her and let it slide, he didn’t want to get his daughter into trouble with her cabin mates if it wasn’t necessary.

“And… the other boy…” He gave her a chance to break out of her own silence.

“Oh, right, Pen.” She was trotting alongside him again as if nothing had happened. “He’s really smart, Dad, and a little shy, but Ángel has already hit it off with both of them.”

“I’m glad, sweetheart… I’m glad.”

The area around the campfire was teeming with people, scattered in huge groups that the counselors were struggling to coordinate. With nearly two hundred campers, having an organizational system was essential—otherwise, they’d end up losing someone in the woods. Carmilla had divided all of this year’s campers into three large groups, assigning three counselors per group and delegating a sort of sub-coordination role to older, veteran campers.

It almost seemed more like an army. But it worked.

The camper leaders made sure the kids they were supervising didn’t get too out of hand, and the monitors only stepped in when things got out of hand or when problems couldn’t be solved by having a huge 18-year-old staring down an 11-year-old.

The first few nights were chaotic. The newbies were split between those who wanted to obey and smile as if they were in heaven on earth… and kids like Chaz… who seemed to want to stir up chaos wherever they went.

He doesn’t like to admit it, but Niffty’s food had the power to make him forget all the nonsense that had come before. Maybe it was because of the effort it took to try to figure out what the heck she was putting in his mouth and whether it was legally edible.

It was never bad, but doubt always hung over his food.

He almost missed the start of that sort of initiation ritual that the veteran campers have. Someone whispers, another responds, and at some point one of the newbies asks the right question.

“But… is the legend true?” Lucifer didn’t recognize the voice that emerged from the murmur.

“Don’t say that out loud!” another replied.

Niffty darted among the campers like a restless little girl, tossing out random bits of information to baffle the kids. Lucifer couldn’t remember when they’d first started doing this, but by the time of his first camping trips here, it had already become a custom.

“All right, all right!” Zestial appeared before everyone, with the campfire behind him, giving him a mysterious aura. “I hope your first few hours at Pride Camp have been… eye-opening.” He strolled around with his hands behind his back, smiling and greeting almost every newcomer he saw. “I hope your monitors have explained the basic rules of coexistence to you… and that you’ll be kind enough to respect them. I also hope you enjoy yourselves as much as you can.”

“But I also want to give you a moment to reflect, to take in where you are. The forest watches over you, helps you, but it also knows you, if you try to harm it, it will strike back.” Some campers looked horrified by the comment. “Don’t forget that these lands are much older than they seem and hide stories among their branches. Even our camp is much older than it seems! If you want to know more, if you’re curious, don’t hesitate to ask me… I have some very interesting books in the office. But until then… satisfy your curiosity with caution… and, above all, have fun!”

Lucifer smiled at Zestial’s nonsense and the kids’ puzzled expressions.

Tonight they’d go to sleep with lots of questions and that excitement that only children can feel at the prospect of uncovering a secret. Even if it was just nonsense.

Lucifer did the same. He needed to sleep, rest, and take a shower to soothe his aching muscles after spending the whole afternoon fixing everyone else’s paintings.

Tomorrow will be another day. A better day.

…

…

No, it’s not getting any better.

The traumatic memories that that damn morning is bringing back are something he’ll have to talk to a psychologist about at some point.

He knew it was sports day, or he should have known, since it was listed on the schedule his daughter had carefully hung up in his room at the cabin.

But he was tired, he hadn’t slept well, the coffee hadn’t been strong enough… and before he knew it, he was struggling to help his team in a sack race straight out of some inhuman nightmare.

“Come on, Toots! You can do it!” Ángel cheered on his redheaded teammate, who was struggling to make up for the mess the rest of his team had created. But that wasn’t what worried Lucifer, after all, they were just kids competing in games…

No…

The worst part was that, in a fit of madness, Carmilla had decided that the final race would be run by the monitors representing their groups.

Lucifer was already sweating, and he hadn’t even gotten into that damn sack yet.

“Yes! Go!” Cherri seemed to have secured a good position, and now his daughter was shooting forward like lightning. His princess was so agile, so beautiful. He loved her so much…

That wouldn’t matter at all when she saw her father crushed against the ground inside a burlap sack.

The minutes ticked by, and his daughter and her friend improved their score until they were almost within seconds of winning, just a few points separated them from victory.

“Awesome! Now it’s your turn, Dad!” His daughter’s voice was pure euphoria, and all he wanted to do was cry under a tree.

He loved these camps, he swore he did, but all the sports activities had been limited to the campers… Why did he have to suffer this year? He was getting on in years, after all!

“Sure, sweetie!” he said, sounding as confident as his anxiety would allow. “I’m going to show you what we can do.”

And with that energy, he climbed into the sack… and almost literally did. Someone had cut and sewn these monstrosities so that a whole giant could fit inside. After twisting and turning at the edge several times, he managed to get his arms out and grip the fabric tightly enough to feel the tension.

“On your marks…” A girl with gray hair and half her head shaved, who appeared to be a veteran, stepped into the middle of the track, taking the place of the instructors. “Get set… Now!” She lowered her hands, and everyone who should be considered functional adults leaped out as if it were the only thing keeping them alive.

To tell the truth… it could have gone worse. Zezzi fell to the ground before reaching the turnaround point, causing a bottleneck that Lucifer took advantage of to pass him. Jumping over Adam, who was struggling to get back up while curses poured from his mouth, was a great victory. But his small leaps were no match for the two enormous legs of the people ahead of him. Alastor and Rosie moved with an ease that might have made him envious if his body weren’t so focused on just keeping breathing.

“Come on, Sir! Vaggi shouted from the finish line. His daughter and Ángel cheered him on with whistles, though each with a different undertone.

God, if you’re out there… at least let me finish with dignity.

Well, God wasn’t there.

Just before reaching the table, he tripped and landed face-first on the ground. Managing to crawl away before all the other instructors ran over him, and thus not coming in last, was too small a consolation to make any real difference.

“And the winner is… Rosie’s team!”

“Damn…” He got up with help from his daughter and that boy, Pen, while the winners jumped around hugging their monitor. Alastor clapped with a warm smile on his face, Carmilla nodded as if she were a mother delighted with her children’s performance, and he just felt sore and like shit.

“What bad luck, Mr. Morningstar…” Ángel said. “Next time.”

“I’d rather not do this again for the rest of my life…”

“Wow… and here I was thinking you were practically perfect at everything.” Alastor looked at him with his arms crossed and that damn crooked smile.

“In what matters. I’ll leave the rest of that nonsense to the rest of you… so you don’t feel useless.”

That man’s eye began to tremble with rage. He strode forward in huge strides until their faces were almost touching.

“Please, we all know that aside from social anxiety,” he said angrily. “And the ability to despise everything around you… you don’t excel at much else, do you?”

Son of a bitch…

Lucifer reached out to grab him by the collar of his polo shirt. “At least I’m not a loser who can barely hold down a job and comes here to feel superior to everyone else.”

Alastor’s eyes widened suddenly, revealing his surprise at the comment.

A comment Lucifer regretted the second it left his lips.

“Let’s proceed with the trophy presentation!” Carmilla’s voice snapped them out of their trance, and they pulled apart, but not before glaring at each other with all the fury they could muster.

Lucifer could tell Charlie was looking at him with furrowed eyebrows, that expression she gets when she’s too worried to make sense of her own thoughts.

Ugh… I’m in for a real scolding once my little girl figures things out.

He refused to stay with the rest of the counselors during the afternoon free time. Not after that stupid fight.

How could Lucifer have known about his radio station, the acquisition by that damn V Corporation, and how he’d had to take a sabbatical to look for a new place to work…

His brain gave him the answer he wasn’t sure he wanted: Lucifer had been investigating him.

The news about his problems hadn’t been made public, he’d made sure of that himself. So… why the hell did that pompous little runt have information on him?

It must have been to give him a chance to fuck him over in case he crossed the line…

Shit.

His path led him to the room where they’d painted those damn mugs yesterday. He found it empty and went inside, closing the door behind him.

He needs to think.

Everything is spiraling out of control way too fast. He’d resolved that what happened last year wouldn’t affect him, that it wouldn’t matter that Lucifer had left after they’d slept together that night…

He’d resolved that it wouldn’t hurt him.

Damn it, he wasn’t managing it.

His gaze wandered over the tables and landed on the pile of campers’ mugs, all piled up around an area where the paintbrushes were still lying from yesterday. He shook his head, someone was going to get a scolding for not cleaning it up.

He washed the paintbrushes and cups, leaving everything neat and tidy. Manual labor always helped calm his nerves. With everything put away, he checked the mugs. They all seemed to be… pretty good, actually. Much better than he’d expected.

And then he remembered. “Lucifer volunteers to help with his designs.”

Rosie’s voice made him smile.

“So this is everything you had to paint, huh?… You’ve earned it,” he said, holding one mug after another in his hands and seeing how, as much as it annoyed him, Lucifer had significantly improved the campers’ designs.

His gaze drifted to a table in the back where a lone mug sat apart from the rest. He walked over to pick it up, and then something squeezed his heart… and not in a good way. It was his mug, the one with the half-finished deer head he’d painted before Chaz broke his own.

Lucifer had fixed all of them except his, leaving it set aside as if it were worthless.

Just like…

Just like last year…

As if he weren’t worth it…

Anger boiled inside him and refused to subside. He was about to smash that damn mug when an idea crossed his mind. Smiling mischievously, he walked back over to the pile of mugs until he found the one he was looking for. He grabbed a freshly cleaned paintbrush, some red paint, and sat down.

By the time he was done, it was dinnertime, and he felt more like himself again.

“Dad… are you there?”

Charlie knocked on the door of his cabin as he finished getting ready for dinner.

“Yes, sweetie, I'm coming!” he said, finishing putting on the shirt he'd wear that night for the bonfire. When he opened the door, his daughter was tugging at the end of her ponytail and looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

Ah… okay.

That was the “we need to talk” look she had picked up from her mother.

“Come in, Char.” He invited her into the room. It was a small but cozy space, furnished with a bed, a small table, and a two-seater sofa pressed against the wall. It wasn’t your typical camp room, but in this respect, as in so many others, this place was special.

They sat on the sofa with their legs almost touching.

“Dad…” His daughter took a deep breath, gathering her courage. “Why don’t you like Alastor?”

Well.

Sure, Lucifer could have said, “No, sweetheart, I do like him… ahem… too much… that’s why I keep my distance, that’s why I make him angry… so he’ll stay away… because I don’t know what the hell happened last year… I don’t know why I couldn’t stay, and now I feel guilty as hell, and if I don’t have to look him in the eye, it hurts less.”

But he said, “Charlie… he’s a pompous jerk…”

His daughter looked at him with narrowed eyes. Lucifer prayed it was because she didn’t understand how he could say that about a fellow camp monitor and not because she suspected answer number one.

“Well, I thought you two got along. Last year you were closer… sure… you argued… but it was almost like an old couple who…” She looked at him with tears in the corners of her eyes. “I feel sorry for you…”

If they had taken his heart and put it in a shredder, even while he was still able to feel his nerves connected, and pressed the button… it would have hurt less than that look.

“I… I don’t know what to say to you. He drives me crazy; it’s exasperating.”

“You’re not easy to deal with either… I wish you two got along better.” Her voice sounded weak, as if she were asking for an impossible wish.

Lucifer took her hand and waited for her to look at him. “I don’t want you to get sad because of my relationships with others. I’ll try…” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I’ll try to get along better with him. I’ll make an effort… I promise.”

She smiled as if he’d brought down the moon for her. “That’s all I ask of you.” And then she hugged him. One of those hugs from his daughter that can lighten the burden of any damned soul.

The night air was cooler than usual, a welcome relief after the heat of that morning and that damn sack. The walk among the cabins as he made his rounds before turning in had helped him sort out his thoughts.

“I’d like you two to get along better.”

His daughter’s words echoed in his head. “Easier said than done,” he told himself.

An idea crossed his mind. It would be a bit silly, and he didn't need to know he'd done it for her.

He still remembered that he'd left his mug unpainted yesterday. Surely he could fix it and put it back where it was. No one would notice, and he'd be the one to come over and thank him.

That 's it…

A brilliant idea! Charlie will see that I'm trying!

He ran over to the cabin where they’d been painting. The moonlight barely illuminated the room. When he turned on the electric lights, something caught his attention. The room was tidy… very tidy.

It wasn’t that his memory was particularly good, but he wanted to remember that he’d left everything there to come back later and finish, and he’d completely forgotten about it. Everything should have been in disarray.

But it wasn’t.

The cups were put away, neatly arranged on a shelf, the paintbrushes were clean, and the paints were in their proper places.

“Well… I’ll have to thank someone for this.”

He walked over to the shelf, quickly searching for what he was looking for, when something caught his eye. Yellow, vibrant, beautiful… destroyed?

He picked up his cup with trembling hands, and his mouth fell open in silent horror. What had been a beautiful drawing of a playful yellow duck had been turned into an artistic sacrilege worthy of a sick mind. The duck was splattered with red, meant to look like blood, its eyes were crossed out, lifeless, red arrows pointed at the poor animal, mocking it. And above and below, written in atrocious handwriting, were the words “Duck Season,” framing what had once been an adorable drawing.

He was furious.

Yes, it could have been anyone, but deep down… Lucifer knew it wasn’t, it had been that asshole.

He’d taken revenge on him for what happened this morning… or for some other stupidity that crossed his empty head.

He rummaged through the mugs until he found that monstrous abomination Alastor had created, sat down at the table with it and a plan.

He wasn’t going to let that asshole be a source of upset for his daughter again, so he leveled the playing field. They wouldn’t be able to prove he did it with bad intentions if everything was beautifully captured.

“Come on, guys. Grab your own mug and head to breakfast, you're already late.”

Alastor was woken up that morning by the pounding on the door from a rather furious Carmilla, who was upset that the students had been at camp for two days and still weren't using their own mugs.

What a load of nonsense.

He got up quickly and rounded up as many as he could, those who weren’t showering to start the day or who had already headed out toward the dining hall. Most of them were too sleepy to realize why on earth they’d been woken up before the scheduled time.

There were barely any mugs left on the shelf where he’d arranged them when his gaze fell on something that hadn’t been there before.

He picked it up and examined it closely. It looked like his mug, but… it wasn’t his mug.

The deer’s head had been redecorated, with the edges smoothed out and the color evened out. You could say it had been fixed up, were it not for the huge bullseye on the animal and the phrase “Deer Season” written above and below it.

Alastor smiled in spite of himself, for the damned mug might actually be… adorable.

A fleeting thought raced through his mind. He set the mug down and searched among the remaining ones for Lucifer’s. He smiled mischievously as he picked it up and left the cabin, heading toward breakfast.

“I guess if we’ve each fixed the other’s mug, it’s only fair that we get to use it.”

And with that comment to himself, he set out to begin a new day at this very unique camp.

At least, he couldn’t say it was boring.

“Zestial, dear.” Carmilla's voice came from the private bathroom in the director's large office. "You know that whenever you do something unusual in the planning, I let you do your own thing because I trust you…”

“Yeah?” the man asked from the couch. He already knew where this was going.

“But do you think it’s a good idea to have them in the same group… those two?” She stepped out of the bathroom with a face mask on and her hair pulled back. He’d never thought she looked more beautiful. “You know what people were saying last year.”

“Uh-huh…”

Faced with his refusal to give her any explanation, she just shrugged and sat down with him on the couch to read a book before bed.

Of course she'd heard the whispers in the woods about what those two idiots had been up to… so what? Wasn’t he old enough to be bored enough to amuse herself?

Besides, who knows… maybe they’ll even learn to get along.