Multifandom Madness by Trash Panda

Platonic Love (Angst)

(No ships)
{Fandom: Helluva Boss}

I didn't want to explain why Fizzarolli has prosthetics because knowing my luck, the next episode will completely ruin my theory, so I didn't include it- ☠️✋

But also I kinda made up the fact he has PTSD so I don't even know, lol.

Tw:
Mentions of PTSD, implications of WHY he has PTSD, and nightmares.

Angst Scale:
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Third Person POV

  Fizzarolli sat down, staring at a wall glumly. His energy had been stolen by tonight's performance and he just wanted to sleep. It wasn't normal to be this drained after a show, but he'd had QUITE the week. From his prosthetics literally breaking, to a horrible performance, and his PTSD medication running out and his pharmacy being bombed.

  Laying down, he listened to the mechanical sounds of his arms and legs adjusting themselves. His employer asked him if he wanted to go and party tonight, but Fizzarolli just couldn't. On stage, he had to be BIG and theatrical, always excited and entertaining! And with the paparazzis, anything outside of his home was a stage. He couldn't deal with that right now.

  "Go home, Fizz. It's clear you're not at 100% right now." Asmodeus said. He gave the most gentle head pat possible to not literally squish his tiny companion.

  "Yeah. Sorry, I will be better tomorrow." Fizzarolli said, covering his face briefly. He knew his boss just wanted him to take care of himself, but a seed of doubt bloomed in his mechanical heart. 'He just doesn't want to be seen with me.' The voice of doubt whispered.

  "Good. Hopefully the pharmacy will reopen soon." Fizzarolli heard Asmodeus say behind him as he retreated.

  And now he was here. Right now, Asmodeus was the only one who knew about his PTSD and cocktail of other mental illnesses. Fizzarolli would have hid it from his boss too if it wasn't for him having to make sure he didn't have some sort of mental breakdown in front of the sin and leave the other completely confused.

  The sin of lust was also one of his only friends. Sure, he could make more friends if he wanted, but he didn't feel like it. Friends meant more commitment to his persona of an excited, funny, passionate, court jester.

  His limbs powered down with a whooshing sound and he took that as a cue to sleep. Closing his eyes, Fizzarolli fell asleep way sooner than normal.

-

  It was cramped and smelled like dirt, head pressed against the... wood? Looking around frantically, Fizzarolli realized that he was in a coffin. He tried to move, only to realize he didn't have arms or legs!

  Thrashing around helplessly, he rolled onto his side, hitting his shoulder against the top as he tried to break the lid. He was running out of air, his head being crushed by the pressure and mind racing around in circles like a beast in a cage. Where was he? Why was he buried? How does he get out?

  Collapsing to the bottom of the coffin, he struggled for breath. Helpless. Looking down at himself, he noticed the majority of his insides were gone too. How was he still alive? He wasn't supposed to be. Suddenly, he heard beeping from above him, the sound of a heart monitor. In an instant, he could no longer feel wood under him. A bright light shined on his face, the smell of dirt replaced with cold and sterile air. Then, the pain hit him. The unbelievable, awful pain. The stumps where his arms and legs used to be ached and bled, and the hole in his chest screamed silent words of agony.

  With a loud gasp, he struggled to get away, only to feel the hands of the doctors on him, holding him down. Shouting filled his awareness, something about getting someone else to help. But the surgery continued. A drill kicked into life, making  Fizzarolli's blood go cold.

  'Wait... Blood?' He thought.

  Fizzarolli opened his eyes, gasping for breath. He looked down at his prosthetic limbs, almost happy to see them for once in his life. They wrapped around him with more mechanical noises as he hugged himself.

  Getting up, he went to his bathroom and washed off all his face paint. He should've last night, but he didn't and so now it looks like a first grader's doodle. 'I'll have to redo the whole thing.' Fizzarolli thought, annoyed.

  His hand moved up to open the cabinet, only to realize that he was out of his medicine. 'Well, this is gonna be a shitty day.' He thought.

  Several minutes later, his makeup was done. It was a bit more bright then usual and in a different style. He was just in the mood to try something new. Speaking of, he got dressed a bit differently today. And actually, he liked the change. It wasn't too often he wore pink, but it actually felt good.

  Looking at the time, he saw it was about time to go, no time to watch the news like usual. And so, he opens the door and pauses just before stepping on something white. He blinked slowly, looking at the paper and the pill bottle at his doorstep.

  'Greetings Fizzarolli.' The note started. 'I knocked last night, but I think you are asleep. Anyways, I pulled a few strings and got (what I hope) is your prescription! I could've gotten it wrong, medical nonsense scrambles my brain, but I hope this is it. Take your time coming into work today. Signed, Asmodeus.'

  Fizzarolli looked at the medicine bottle and smiled. It was indeed the correct medicine. Asmodeus was great at sex and flirting and sweet talking, but he wasn't too great at love and friendly affection. So getting a sweet letter and a nice gift from the sin was absolutely incredible.

  Keeping the reminder that he didn't have to rush to work in mind, he went back inside and took his meds. 'Maybe today won't be as shit as I thought.'

(1014 words.)