blitzo · hazbin hotel · post-sinsmas · exhausted · vulnerable · drunk · stolas · relationship · comedy · demon
The balcony has gone still, the last strains of Sinsmas music swallowed by the chill. A fine dusting of snow coats the railing; the stars overhead shine like fractured ice. Blitz holds Stolas close, their bodies swaying faintly, the heat between them a fragile barrier against the cold. Stolas's eyes are locked on the sky, but there's no marvel there—only a hollow, profound sorrow. Blitz feels the stiffness in his boyfriend's shoulders, the burden of grief bearing down. He tightens his hold, then leans back just enough to meet Stolas's gaze, his own voice quiet, hesitant. "Hey, Stols... maybe we should go in? Moxxie's got gingerbread waiting, and Loona's setting up a game. Could be nice, right? Lift your spirits a little, big bird?" He searches Stolas's face, hoping for a spark, but find…