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It has been decades since Alastor has been sent here in this hell hole. The first time he got here wasn’t quite pleasant. He was confused, mad and even frustrated the first time he realized he had been in hell, but he wasn’t surprised considering the fact he knew this would happen at some point. But there was some lingering regret that he wished he could've done sooner. Maybe if he was alive a bit longer, he could’ve.. But what’s done is done. There is no turning back. The only thing he needs to do at this point is to survive hell.
He wanted to forget her, he really did. The first few years of his residence here in hell was only him trying to move on from her. He almost killed half the population of the third circle in hell because his emotions got the best of him. He found it difficult to move on and forget about her, since she was the reason why Alastor felt even a little sense of humanity when he was alive. Like they always say, opposites attract, and they were quite the opposites. Alastor, being the charming young former radio host from New Orleans back in the early 1920’s, was tall, lanky, and all the ladies that came before him would be charmed by his hazel brown eyes but she, the parasite that was living in his mind, was soft-spoken. She was eye-candy for everyone to see; soft lips, rosy cheeks, with a tint of greenish grey eyes, and the fairest one of all, she was too pure, and that was very peculiar in his eyes.
Purity does not exist in Alastor’s mind, in spite of that charm he has, he was also a cannibal, a southern serial killer back in New Orleans. His morals were quite twisted as well, he does not simply kill everything he sees, but he does it to give justice to those who deserved it. And this what got him into hell in the first place, sure he may be doing it for the sake of justice, but murder is murder. Maybe if his father wasn’t the abusive bastard he could've turned out different, maybe if racism didn’t exist, maybe things could be different. The only thing good about his childhood is when he met her. His memory was hazy but the feeling was still there as he remembered, and It felt like spring; it was warm, giddly and most of all, he felt genuinely happy for the first time.
She was all he cared about for years, even after death He still thought about her. There wasn’t even a single day where he wasn’t worrying on she might be doing at this time. Has she been eating well? Is something bothering her at this time? Is there anything he could do to help? If there was he could've done it earlier but alas he cant leave this place and be with his beloved. Though he may come to accept that she wont be with him in hell since she was an angel. Even the toxic of places, she continues to smile, to shine, and to still be herself. He hated her for that, even as they were both children she was still the same. But in spite of that, he adored her, because she was the only one he had left on that world.
But as death came to him, he never got to say what he felt about her. Maybe this is Karma punishing him for all the things he did, and he cant argue about that, because what come around always goes around. If only he had a bit more time, maybe he wouldn't felt this pain in his chest. He hated that feeling, he always had. But what's done is done, and he cant do anything about it. All he could do is to pray whatever God is up there, that she died peacefully, or even she found someone better than him that would bring her the happiness she deserved.
As he walks down the streets in hell, the sound of a piano playing in the distance intrigues him. He would always find comfort with those instruments, it always does bring him back to those days where he was still alive. He followed the melody of it, the tune was too familiar to him, yet he cant quite guessed what it was and that made him more curious . As he got closer his eyes widen, it was her favorite song, and he memorized it by heart. But hearing it again after all this time, makes his chest start to ache.
“Des yeux qui font baisser les miens
Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche
Voilà le portrait sans retouches
De l'homme auquel j'appartiens ”
The lyrics replayed from the back of his mind. Memories from the past came through him. A sunny afternoon of him singing this song with her. Those times were innocent and he cherished those memories . It felt like spring to him. it was everything to him...
The sound of her voice was already enough to send him peace. They were both inseparable when they were children, so it was easy for Alastor to be attached to her and to recognize her within an instant.
Quand il me prend dans ses bras
Il me parle tout bas
Je vois la vie en rosesd
He then continued to follow the tune. Only then did he start singing. He can proudly say that he was great at French, at least there were perks of living in New Orleans after all.
Il me dit des mots d'amour
Des mots de tous les jours
Et ça me fait quelque chose
Closer and closer he can feel the familiar feeling of spring again, like how when he was with her. He really does miss her.
Il est entré dans mon cœur
Une part de bonheur
Dont je connais la causeC'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie
Il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie
Maybe if there was an actual God who can hear his prayers, he prays that they would give him time to actually meet her again, to hold her, and to feel that warmth again.
Please just this once, let it be her
Et dès que je l'aperçois
Alors je sens en moi
Mon cœur qui ba t
Being an overlord here in hell also has its advantages, but it does get lonely at times since basically every demon that ever lived or witnessed his carnage was terrified of him. He got used to it, but he would be lying if he said a little chit-chat wasn’t bothersome.
I would rather end myself here, than to suffer from loneliness without her.
Des nuits d'amour à plus finir
Un grand bonheur qui prend sa place
Des ennuis, des chagrins s'effacent
Heureux, heureux à en mourir
As he continued to follow through the sounds, he spotted someone, someone familiar.
Quand il me prend dans ses bras
Il me parle tout bas
Je vois la vie en rose
He was in the middle of the streets in hell. As he caught a glimpse of the pianist, something ached inside of him.
Il me dit des mots d'amour
Des mots de tous les jours
Et ça me fait quelque chose
Though their physical features had been “demon-fied”, to match the aesthetics here in hell. He would never forget what she really looked like. She was always a parasite in his mind, and nothing he could do would make him forget about her. It was like a curse and a blessing.
Il est entré dans mon cœur
Une part de bonheur
Dont je connais la cause
His breathing went unsteady as the pianist continued playing the tune. He got closer, and closer and everything was clear. He reached out to her hoping she would notice him, his partner in crime, his best friend, his first love .
C'est toi pour moi, moi pour toi dans la vie
Il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie
”Alastor, you better promise me something”
Alastor raised his brow as he turned towards the young woman. Her brown locks shined through the morning sun, and her greenish grey eyes turned to look at his own hazel ones.
“I know we're not going to see each other for a long time in a few months, but I just want you to know that you were the bestest friend I have Al…”
She reached out something from her pockets. It's a small plastic grey ring that would fit perfectly into Alastor’s own..
”When we do meet again, let’s get married, Al!”
Et dès que je t'aperçois
Alors je sens dans moi
Mon cœur qui bat
”Mon coeur, is that you..?"