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Alastor had a very lovely life. Ever since he got out of those pesky deals, he’d been on top of the world. Sure, it’s been a long while since that day, but Alastor can’t help but reflect on it sometimes. To think back to how he was before the day that Vox helped him get out of two deals in one—one being his own. Alastor has come far since that day.
His radio show was as popular as ever, and Alastor thinks it’s only going to grow. Every day it seems he gets more and more listeners. At one point he got an explosive boost in ratings too.
Alastor tried not to think about the oddly sick feeling he got in his gut whenever his memories reminded him about that.
Instead, Alastor oftentimes found himself thinking about Vox and how they made up. It was a month after Alastor became a free man when he suggested that he and Vox, now at the bottom, share a drink.
It took a long while for them to finally share their feelings and clear up misunderstandings, but when they did, Alastor couldn’t help but know it was all worth it. Vox’s laughter, his banter, the small moments of intimacy between them; it all made his afterlife so much brighter.
It scared Alastor to think about how much he adored Vox sometimes. But whenever he looked at the man, it seemed to make him feel less afraid. They had each other. What does anything else matter? Alastor will deal with his feelings, and in turn he will have Vox. Vox will have him too.
“Lost in your thoughts again?” A familiar voice dragged him out of his line of thinking, and when Alastor looked over, his heart melted. Vox was sitting in his favorite chair—in their shared living room, no less—with the morning newspaper on his lap. It was such a domestic sight, and yet, Alastor felt his heart flip.
Bashfully, Alastor chuckles, “More or less. Anyways,” Alastor moves on quickly to save himself the embarrassment, his attention turning to the food he was cooking in front of him. “Do you want some, dearest?”
Vox sighs sadly, “No, I’ll have to skip out on this meal.”
Alastor huffs, turning to Vox with an offended glare. “And why is that? You know I don’t like you skipping meals, Vincent.”
“I know, I know!” Vox is quick to placate, hands up in the air beside him to appease Alastor. “You know about my recent sickness, though, Al.. I’ll eat later tonight, promise.”
The mention of Vox’s sickness twists something in his soul. It feels worse than Vox just having a cold. Oddly enough, he can’t remember ever having the conversation that Vox is sick, and it feels deeper than that. But Alastor ignores it and instead turns off the burner of the stove to go over and fret over Vox.
“Since when have you been sick, my dear?” Alastor asks with a frown, his hand resting over Vox’s screen. It’s cold. So he doesn’t have a fever, how could he possibly be sick?
Vox chuckles, waving away Vox’s hand gently as he leans against the armrest. His shoulder bumps against his arm from how close Alastor is. “It’s not that kind of sickness, idiot. You know I kick those viruses easily,” Vox teases, earning a playful shove to his shoulder so he’s leaning against the back of the chair again as well as an annoyed scoff. “It’s just.. it’s more long term than that. More complicated.”
Alastor rolls his eyes, “You don’t need to be so vague, mon cher. It’s rather irritating how you’re treating me like I don’t know how medical issues work.”
“Sorry, Al.. it’s just.. I don’t really wanna talk about it right now. Can we talk about it later? Please?” Vox gives Alastor puppy dog eyes, even sniffling a bit as he begs for Alastor to move on from this particular topic.
Alastor stares into those eyes, and he knows he’s trapped. He should’ve looked away the moment he saw that expression begin to form to try and resist its hold over him, but he couldn’t help himself but look at Vox and his face. Vox will be the death of him. “..Fine. If you so insist.” Alastor turns away from Vox, going back to the kitchen so he can make a plate of food for himself and only himself.
He goes back to the living area, plate on the table in front of him as he sits in his own armchair. In the morning, this was their routine. Alastor would cook, they would eat whilst chatting, and then they would go over their tasks for the day.
“What do you have for today, Al?” Vox asked curiously, the newspaper still in his lap. It was untouched. Though, he could’ve just read it whilst Alastor wasn’t looking.
Alastor hums, thinking about the list of things he had to do for today, before he finally speaks. “Well. I must go to the hotel today. It is my job, after all.”
Vox scoffs, “I still don’t understand why you go there. Redemption is so silly.”
“That is the point, my dear!” Alastor points out with a bright, cocky grin on his face. He takes a bite of his food, chewing and swallowing, before he adds, “What’s life without some value entertainment? Besides, keeping the princess close is never a bad idea.”
“I just think it’s a waste of time. But whatever floats your boat.” Vox states with a dismissive shrug.
“Anyways—before you so rudely interrupted me—after the hotel I must go visit Rosie. It’s been a while since the last time I saw her, after all, and I must keep my relationships in good shape.”
Vox hums, mulling over Alastor’s plans in his head. “Alright, well, I hope you’ll have a good day.”
Alastor sighs lightly, “It hardly will, considering I must be away from you for so very long.” Alastor complains—ever the drama king.
“You could always quit and become a hermit and never leave our house!”
Alastor barks out a laugh, unable to help it from erupting from his chest. “Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you? I can’t say I wouldn’t like that too. However, duty calls, dearest!”
“Booo..” Vox pouts, slumping down into the chair more in disappointment.
A tentacle moves over to Vox, straightening him up without Vox’s input. He whines at the adjustment, clearly not enjoying how Alastor is forcing him to behave. “Yes, I know, I’m the worst. Unfortunately, today is not the day for pouting.”
Vox huffs, “It’s never the day for pouting.”
Alastor chuckles, rolling his eyes lightly. “I’m glad you caught on. Sometimes I worry you aren’t that smart.”
“Hey! What the hell!”
Alastor laughs, his entire body shaking slightly from the force of his laughter. Vox can be so entertaining when he wants to be.
Vox pouts harder at the sound of Alastor’s laughing, but his expression quickly melts. Alastor loves being Vox’s weakness. “Fine, fine, I’ll stop pouting.”
“Good. Now tell me about your plans.”
Vox hums, contemplating. “I have to go to the office. Do paperwork, scripts, meetings, all of that. I’ll be back before you get home though, so don’t worry, you won’t miss out on me that much!”
Alastor cocks an eyebrow, "You seem to always be coming home before me nowadays.”
“Would you prefer if I went overtime at the office every single day again?”
“Don’t you dare.” Alastor glares at Vox, his static picking up at just the idea of Vox doing that to himself again. It’s horrible enough that Vox isn’t eating right now. He’ll take these wins as he gets them.
Vox grins playfully, “Then be grateful!” He teases with a mischievous giggle. “I’ll finish work and then I’ll come here and eat, and you can tell me all about your day while we cuddle. Sounds like a plan?”
Alastor pretends to think very hard about whether or not that sounds like a plan. The longer he waits, the more Vox’s grin drops, and Alastor can’t help but feel slightly satisfied from Vox getting worried about whether or not he liked his idea. He deserved it for worrying Alastor so. “Alright, fine, I suppose we can do that.”
Vox brightens immediately, nodding excitedly. “Okay! Perfect! You should go to the hotel, then. I don’t start until another half an hour.”
Alastor chuckles, standing from his seat. He goes to the kitchen, dropping his dirty plate in the sink, quickly washing it up. He hates having dirty dishes in the sink. It’s good Vox has learned to clean up after himself too. “Trying to rush me out the door, are you?”
“No!” Vox whines, “I just don’t want you to be late, is all.”
Alastor sighs contentedly. How did he get so lucky to have someone like Vox? He truly has no idea. When the dishes are done, he goes back over to where Vox was sitting, smiling down at him. His smile softens at the sight of his partner, enjoying the lovesick smile he gets in return from Vox. “Alright, love. I’ll be back in the evening most likely. I’ll see you then.”
Vox nods with a small sigh. “Okay. I’ll see you later, Al, love you!”
“I love you too.” Alastor replies, leaning down to plant a kiss to the top of Vox’s casing. The cold sends a shiver down his spine, but he ignores it. That’s just how Vox feels lately. He misses the warmth, but he doesn’t linger on the thought. It makes him feel sick to think about the cold for too long. He doesn’t know why.
Then, Alastor teleports out of his and Vox’s home, and he reappears in front of the hotel. He smoothes down the front of his coat, makes sure his hair is neat, and fixes his monocle to make it perfectly straight before he walks into the lobby.
Most conversations die out the moment he walks inside. That seems to happen lately. Alastor doesn’t mind—he assumes it’s just because of the fact he’s so much more powerful than he was before. He enjoys the power he has over everyone here.
Except for the fact that the whole dying conversation thing also includes all of his.. ITacquaintances here. Vox has been telling him to be more friendly with his language towards the people he interacts with often. So, they’re his acquaintances because no matter what Vox says they are certainly not his friends.
Angel Dust and Cherri Bomb, who had been having a riveting conversation by the few seconds he could tell when they didn’t know he was here, immediately paused when their eyes found him. Husk, who he saw from where he was standing behind the bar, seemed to freeze what he was doing before quickly continuing to try and regain his composure. Even Nifty seemed to pause her erratic movements at the sight of him.
It was rather annoying in how consistent it had become. No one was subtle about it. It made Alastor feel like he was crazy—especially how everyone avoided his questions about it like the plague.
Alastor decided to try one more time as he approached Angel Dust and Cherri Bomb, who seemed to freeze up as he stood before them. “Greetings, how have you two been?” Alastor asks.
Vox tells him it’s polite to ask others how they are before anything else—even if he doesn’t care. Vox tells him he doesn’t care (except when the question is directed at him) about anyone’s feelings when he asks, he just does it because he has to. Alastor has been doing his best to implement his advice.
Angel spares Cherri a nervous look before his gaze finally lands on Alastor again, throwing on his best attempt of a normal, patented Angel smile. Which is to say it’s stupid. “Oh, nothing, Smiles! We were just gossiping—you know how it is.”
“Mm.. I’m afraid I don’t know how it is.” Alastor replies rather dryly. They were obviously trying to get him out of their hair as soon as possible. “Am I not allowed in on this ‘gossip,’ dears?”
Cherri shrugs a bit awkwardly, “No no, nothing like that! It’s just- you’re obviously busy.” Cherri gives out an excuse that they’ve used hundreds of times before this. “And.. Angie and I are busy too, so, have a good day!” Cherri suddenly says, standing and pulling Angel up with her.
Angel chuckles, his posture stiffer than it usually was. “Yeah, our bad! We’ll catch up later, yeah?”
Alastor stares at the two of them. “Yes, we shall.”
Then, they quickly leave, going up the stairs—most likely to Angel Dust’s room. Alastor stares at the empty space of the couch, huffing internally. He isn’t that powerful. He hasn’t gone feral with power. Surely they know he isn’t going to rip them apart just because he’s free from his shackles, right? It seems like they don’t because they were truly acting as though he’s a danger to be around. How strange.
“Alastor, you’re here!” Charlie’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts, and when he turns his head, he’s met with an enthusiastic Charlie. However, behind her expression, he can see the pity in her eyes. She always looks at him like that lately. Alastor doesn’t understand and he hates that look.
Alastor hums, “Of course I am, sweetheart. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Uh- I don’t know! I’m just happy you’re here!” Charlie says, tilting her head with a nervous smile.
It’s then that Alastor notices that Vaggie is hovering quite close behind her. He forgot that Vaggie also seems to be attached to Charlie’s hip whenever he’s around. He knows she was protective before—but lately she’s been even more suspicious and on guard around Alastor.
She’s an angel and Charlie is the princess of hell. He doesn’t understand how he’s so powerful he even makes the pair of them so nervous. It’s slightly ego boosting, but mostly it’s just inconvenient.
“Right. Anyways, dear, what do you have for me today?”
He spends the day working mostly alone. Charlie doesn’t assign him to many sinner related jobs as of lately, and Alastor is absolutely relieved by that. Those have always been his absolute least favorite to do and he’s finally been rid of them. Perhaps Charlie finally realized how uncomfortable it made him. As she should.
Alastor does as he’s been asked to flawlessly—all of it. By the time he’s done, the majority of the day has escaped him. As it always does whenever he resigns himself to working a day in the princess’ hotel.
Alastor doesn’t particularly mind. If anything, it allows him to pass time whilst Vox is working. He wonders what he’s doing right now. He could go visit, but he shouldn’t. Vox is most likely quite busy with all of the work that his company gives him and he’d rather not add to that by distracting his partner.
So instead of that, he should go visit Rosie now.
Alastor passes through the lobby again on his way out, and again the entire lobby tenses. He simply rolls his eyes, ready to leave and go have a chat with his former captor.
“—Is he really sane enough to be still working here?” The question gets picked up by his ears, one of the closer ones perking up and twisting towards the sinner that spoke it.
Alastor turned towards the one gossiping about him with as much of a frown as he could muster. “What about me being sane?”
Immediately, the sinner went completely pale. “O-Oh, sorry- I- I didn’t mean, I was j-just-” The sinner couldn’t get any amount of an excuse out, simply stumbling on their pathetic words as they not so subtly looked around for an exit.
Alastor was tempted to murder and eat the soul that had decided to insult his sanity. He is perfectly sane—why wouldn’t he be sane? He supposes that he might be going crazy with all of this whispering, but Vox is very helpful at keeping him together, so he doesn’t understand what the issue is. The sinner is lucky that Charlie doesn’t like it whenever he murders a guest in the lobby. “You were just what?”
“I-It’s just.. you know.. with you and Vox-”
Alastor’s ear twitches at the same time his static screeches. He doesn’t like that implication. It makes his entire body feel dread in a way that he’s never felt before. There’s nothing wrong between them. Why would there be anything wrong with the two of them?
Just before he was going to reply, unaware of the room darkening and his shadows twisting wildly beneath his feet, Charlie suddenly appeared out of nowhere and jumped in. She placed her arm over the sinner’s shoulders, obviously attempting to diffuse the situation.
“Woah, woah! I’m sure whatever this lovely sinner said was just a misunderstanding, Alastor!” Charlie says, worry dripping from her tone.
Alastor looked between the two. Finally, he settled his gaze on the sinner, his eyes narrowing as he growled lowly. “Don’t utter Vox’s name from your lips again. If you don’t, then we won’t have an issue. Do you understand?”
The sinner anxiously nods, tripping over his words of agreement. How pathetic. He hates sinners like these. Whispering behind backs, but bashful when caught. The least they could do is own up to being caught—but they never do.
“Good. Then there is no issue, Charlie, my dear!” Alastor brightens as he looks at Charlie as the issue has been completely resolved.
Charlie frowns a bit deeper at Alastor before he relaxes, arm falling from the sinner’s shoulders. “Anyways, Alastor, thank you for coming! It was really nice to see you and get your help with some stuff!”
Alastor hummed, head tilting a bit. “Of course, sweetheart. Don’t mention it.” Alastor didn’t understand what was so significant as to what he did today. There was nothing strange about it. There was nothing strange about him or Vox either. Everything was normal. Everything is how it should be. “Until the next time.” Alastor nods his head as a goodbye, before he turns and begins leaving.
His expression sours, Charlie and the sinner none the wiser, when he hears Charlie whispering about how they can’t bring Vox up around Alastor. What a preposterous thing to say.
He’s tempted to turn around and give Charlie a piece of his mind, before he finds himself and remembers that it’s Charlie Morningstar. It would do him good to not ruin such a close relationship with the princess of hell. Even if he would quite like to stop coming here altogether and stay at home all day with Vox.
It sounds quite nice. Vox would never agree though—he has a whole company to take care of. He’d have to be dead before he ever let go of his company.
Alastor hummed to himself as he grabbed the bouquet of flowers from the same florist he always did on his way to go to Rosie’s town and her place. The bouquet was exceptional as always, and Alastor tipped the florist with a smile. She smiled back a little nervously.
She never seemed to be nervous before. Oh well.
As he walked, he looked at the VoxTek cameras set up on his path. He smiled at the one closest to him, giving it a small wave of acknowledgment. Vox is probably watching him right now, making sure he makes it safely.
He always does things like that. Even though Alastor is more powerful and capable than Vox is and could very easily take care of the threat before Vox even shows up to defend him. Alastor enjoys the sentiment from his silly picture box, though. It’s endearing. It makes Vox happy too, and it helps him pass the time, so Alastor never mentions any of those facts to him. He lets him have this.
Unfortunately, when he makes it to Cannibal Town, the cameras stop. He mourns the loss for a moment, but ultimately moves on. Vox has tried and tried to convince Rosie to place cameras in her town but she has stayed strong. Really, Alastor commends her for it. For as much as Vox has gotten him used to having technology around lately, having cameras here would really not fit in at all. Alastor prefers this place without any technology. Vox can’t get his way all of the time anyways. Otherwise his head would get far too big.
Alastor smiles as he greets the demons he passes on the way. He’s always maintained friendly relationships with them. Of course, they wave, nod, and smile back but they all have the same nervous glint in their expressions or posture that everyone around him seems to have. It’s so very confusing.
“Alastor, dear, hello! It’s lovely to see you dropping by!” Rosie says with a smile as he walks inside. Whilst the few customers she has by freeze up a tiny bit, she does not. At least, throughout everything, Rosie always remains normal. It’s a relief even if Alastor would never tell her as such.
Alastor grins at her, grabbing one of her hands to politely kiss her knuckles before he shows her the bouquet of flowers he was hiding behind his back for her. “Here you are, Rosie, dear. It’s been far too long!”
She coos, gently picking the bouquet out of his hand to hold in her own. “This is so lovely, you shouldn’t have!” Rosie says. He knows for a fact she would be pouting if he hadn’t bothered. Rosie goes to an empty vase, plopping the flowers inside carefully. “How perfect! Thank you!”
Alastor hums, smiling at her. Is she a friend? An acquaintance? It’s hard to categorize her in his head after so long being her pet. It certainly built some resentment for her. But Alastor was nothing if not a gentleman, so he was attempting to put that behind him and Rosie’s relationship. “Of course, dear.”
“Oh, where are my manners? Here, I’ll get us some tea and then we’ll sit and catch up! Just sit down for me and wait.” Rosie informs Alastor, before he walks away to go fetch the two of them some tea to drink.
Alastor settles himself down in his usual seat, slightly looking around to see if anything had changed, but nothing had. Everything was completely normal. Good, he’s glad it is. There’s no need to change anything about this place.
He remembers when he first took Vox here. Alastor could tell how jealous he had been from the usual greeting he gave Rosie, and the one he just did. Vox complained about him not getting flowers and a kiss on the hand whenever Alastor showed up to their house. So, for a while, Alastor did that for him just to see how he’d react.
Safe to say: Vox really liked it. It brought fond memories up for him, and he couldn’t help but allow his smile to soften as he allowed himself to get lost in them.
His train of thought is interrupted when a cup of tea is placed onto the table before him. Alastor looks up, seeing that Rosie had settled in the seat across from him and was currently sipping on her cup of tea.
“So, dear, what have you been getting up to whilst I was busy?” Alastor asked Rosie and as he waited for the reply from her, he took his tea and took a sip from the cup. It tasted quite good—as it always did.
“Mm.. you know how it is, Alastor! Same old, same old!” Rosie dismisses the question with a huff and a smile.
“I see. Well, that’s nice, dear.” Alastor said with a smile, taking another sip of his tea as he waited for her to speak once more.
Rosie seems to study him before finally speaking up again, “Alastor, dear, what brings you here? We both know you don’t typically come around here unless you want some kind of advice.” Rosie informs Alastor, cutting straight to the chase.
Alastor stares at her a moment, wondering if he should actually speak about what’s on his mind currently. In the end, he decides he probably should. There’s no one else he can ask about this. Even if there is, Alastor doesn’t feel safe enough doing so. Rosie is the only one he feels has the answers and won’t humiliate him for asking a question.
Alastor exhales, before he begins speaking. “People are acting quite strangely around me and it’s rather irritating. I’m aware of the fact I’m stronger than I was in the past, but the extreme levels of caution everyone has around me is distracting and I have absolutely no idea why it’s happening.”
Rosie stares at him for a moment, and for a second, he sees the same pitying stare in her eyes that he sees in Charlie. So Alastor interrupts her before she can speak. How dare she think she can look at him with that expression.
“Why are you looking at me like that, Rosie? Are you also infected by whatever is happening to everyone else—except for Vox and I?” Alastor practically hissed out, his frustration peaking at the look that Rosie just gave him.
Rosie tilts her head, “Vox?” She asks as though the mention was strange. She’s aware of the fact that he and Vox are together after Vox so loudly proclaimed to her of that fact when he was feeling especially jealous. He was very cute for doing that. Why is Rosie now forgetting that moment?
Alastor’s anger flares higher. “Yes. Vox. You know, my partner? You know Vox.”
“Your late partner, yes, I’m aware. I think I’m beginning to understand why everyone is so cautious around you.” Rosie states with a frown.
She wasn’t a woman that sugarcoated. Rosie had absolutely no reason to feed into any of Alastor’s delusions. She cared for the man, of course, but there was no need in confusing him. He was obviously confused.
Late.
Late partner.
His ears press flat against his head.
That isn’t right. Not right at all.
Late partner implies that Vox is deceased and that certainly isn’t the case. He saw Vox just this morning. They ate breakfast together. Vox was currently at work. As soon as he’s done here, he’s going to go home and Vox will be there and he’ll greet him and they’re going to cuddle like Vox had promised.
If he were dead, they wouldn’t be able to be doing any of that. Rosie was playing a cruel joke on him. One that he didn’t understand whatsoever. It was completely unnecessary to say that Vox is dead when he obviously isn’t. What was Rosie’s angle here?
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Alastor asked incredulously. He couldn’t stop himself from cursing. It was harder to stop himself from ripping her apart at even planting the idea that Vox could be dead into his mind. What a cruel joke.
Rosie sighed sadly, taking another sip of her tea. “I was aware that you were busy grieving but I didn’t know you began doing this. I suppose I should’ve known that’s why you were acting slightly more normal than usual.”
“How else would I act? This is how I always act.” Alastor questions, drilling Rosie for more answers about whatever delusion she’s clearly facing right now. Whatever she’s thinking, it’s obvious she’s being serious. Alastor is concerned for her. Or, at least, he would be if she wasn’t saying such disgusting things to him.
Rosie tilts her head, “Do you not remember?” She questions softly, “Just a few months ago you were killing anyone who looked at you. And that was if you even went outside.”
Alastor felt a horrible feeling a dread begin to build in his stomach, flashes of memories beginning to build in his head.
It was dark and lonely. He was so very alone. The house was quiet, far too quiet. Vox made the house so loud with all of his electronics. Alastor despised it. But now the house was so quiet, and so dark, and Alastor was completely and utterly alone.
No. No, that couldn’t be. Vox is at work right now. They spoke. Vox isn’t dead, he’s remembering false things.
“I knew you were distraught about his death but I didn’t think you would begin thinking of him as alive just to cope..” Rosie mutters gently, doing her best to treat him with care but also not validating the delusion that he had dug for himself.
“He isn’t dead!” Alastor snapped, shooting up from his seat. “He’s currently in his office, working! We had a very nice conversation this very morning before I left for the hotel. He isn’t dead.” Alastor seethes, his tone dripping with pure venom.
“Alastor.. you killed him. Don’t you remember?” Rosie reminds Alastor.
Alastor freezes. He killed Vox. No, he didn’t kill Vox. No one killed Vox.
He isn’t dead. He can’t be dead. Vox isn’t dead.
He isn’t.. isn’t..
Oh.
“You can be so fucking stupid, Al!” Vox shouted, electricity running through his entire body and occasionally shooting out of him like sparks. His eyes were slightly watery as he stood in the street.
“Me, stupid? Look at yourself, Vox.” Alastor shouts back with the same amount of hatred in his tone. “I’m not the one who decided that you were completely done with me.”
Vox wants to scream.
All he wanted to do was confirm that they were together. That they were something more than just.. not enemies. After everything they’d done together, he hoped that maybe they would finally be able to chat together. That Vox would be able to confess without any issue.
He used the wrong words at the wrong time, apparently. He should’ve known that Alastor was already upset over something. Vox should’ve shut his mouth.
But he’d been so eager, and so excited, and all he wanted was to finally call Alastor his. They practically already were together. But he didn’t want to assume, didn’t want to start saying it to other people only for it to get back to Alastor and him be completely blindsided because he felt the opposite way. He wanted them to be on the same page.
Vox said that he loved Alastor, that he wanted them to finally be partners. Vox spilled his guts out to Alastor, practically giving his heart to him. He thought Alastor would like his insides being handed over.
It triggered something in Alastor. Something he didn’t understand. Now Alastor was screaming at him, completely shutting him out. He attempted to kick Vox out, and Vox dragged him outside kicking and screaming, and now here they were.
“I told you I loved you! Is that not enough?! I thought we were getting closer!”
Alastor laughed, low and cruel.
It set off alarm bells in Vox’s head. This was so similar to the last time. Except last time he had been completely blindsided. At least this time he was expecting it to be a possibility. A possibility he didn’t think was actually going to happen in his worst nightmares, but one that was, indeed, a possibility—and was happening right now.
“We’ll never be close. I will never love you. You’re a complete and utter fool.”
Vox would rip out his hair if he had any. He was tempted to rip out his antenna. Maybe then he would stop feeling so connected to Alastor—so drawn to him. He’d finally stop migrating towards him like he physically can’t hold himself back. “We’re practically partners already! We live in the same place, for fucks sake, Al.”
“It was clearly a mistake indulging you in such a way. You will pack your stuff and leave first thing in the morning.” Alastor informed Vox, tone cold and icy as he stared at him with a disgusted glint in his eye. “I thought you would be over this whole partner thing. Clearly you are not.”
“I don’t even mean business partners this time! What the fuck is the big deal?!” Vox was beyond anger. He was so angry he had looped around to numbness. Soon, he’s sure he would go back to being overwhelmingly sad. Hopefully not around Alastor. “Al, we’ve even kissed a couple times. Was that all a joke to you? Some entertainment? Did you enjoy playing with my feelings just to throw me away the moment I want to call us partners?”
Alastor grimaced, looking away from him. “I do not know what I was thinking. It was a mistake—a mistake I will surely never be making ever again.”
Vox stares at Alastor. “So this is it?”
“Yes. I want you gone by morning. I never want to talk to you ever again.”
“We’re back to being enemies?”
Alastor looks back at Vox with an expression worse than anything else he’s ever seen before. Indifference. “I don’t care about you anymore. You’ve run your course. I would rather not indulge you ever again in any way.” He scoffed, “You’d probably continue to twist my actions in a sick way no matter what I do. I think it’s time we officially say goodbye.”
So that’s it. He doesn’t even get to fight Alastor anymore. He’s really done it, hasn’t he?
Vox looks down at the ground. Is there a point in even packing up his stuff? Is there a point to making it tomorrow? Vox tries to imagine a life where Alastor is completely gone, and he finds that he’d rather die.
He would rather die.
Vox sighs, too numb to even care about what he’s about to do. “Alright, I’ll never bother you again.” Vox says, voice void of emotion as he turns and walks back into the house. Presumably to back up his things.
Alastor stares where Vox was standing just moments before, feeling his stomach twist. He can’t believe he almost let Vox in. He’s such an idiot. Vox was just using him again. Building his trust, trying to use a different form of manipulation just so they can be partners. Alastor will not fall for that. He refuses to fall for Vox and his pathetic manipulation.
Alastor walks into the house, ignoring the way his ears stood on high alert and his fur on end. Why were his nerves shot like this? Perhaps he’s worried that Vox is going to steal something of his own. Yes, he should go make sure Vox is properly packing.
With an annoyed click of his tongue, Alastor walks to Vox’s room, opening the door.
There, he sees Vox, something yellow and sharp in his.. chest. Sticking out. Right where his vitals are.
Time slows.
“..Vincent?”
Vox turns his head over to Alastor, eyes already fuzzy. He falls to his knees, seemingly not even noticing as his eyes don’t follow Alastor’s eyes—staying in place. It’s only a moment later that they finally flicker up to find Alastor’s eyes again.
Alastor’s heart stops as he stares at what’s poking out of Vox. Yellow. Inside of him. He’s bleeding profusely.
He’s dying. It’s an angelic blade. He’s going to die.
It’ll be permanent.
Alastor doesn’t realize he’s shouting Vox’s name, doesn’t realize he’s trying to comfort him as his hands scramble for the man. He’s leaning forwards when Alastor takes his shoulders and has him sitting backwards. He stares at the blade. He can’t pull it out. He’ll bleed out before Alastor can ever save him. There is no one powerful enough that will treat Vox without an insane price. Alastor is not powerful enough to prevent Vox from dying. The angelic weapon is too deep, there’s too much blood. On the floor. On his shirt. On his hands. It’s everywhere. It’s on Alastor too.
Alastor is covered in his blood. He’s going to be sick. He feels sick. He’s sick. Sick in the head for letting Vox do this to himself. Why would Vox do this? He doesn’t understand.
Alastor barely picks up the voice that comes from the man against the wall. It’s so soft, so quiet, that if Alastor didn’t have such good hearing he never would’ve caught. “I’ll miss you.”
“Miss me?! You’re not dying, Vincent. I swear, you’re not dying, you’re going to live or I’m going to kill you.”
Vox smiles, only barely. “I wish you would’ve acted like this a few minutes ago.” Vox mumbles, sighing—though it’s ragged. Like it’s taking everything in him to breathe out. “It’s okay. I forgive you.”
Alastor laughs, manic. Insane. He’s going crazy. He can’t lose Vox. “Just stay awake. I’m going to save you, you’re going to live, don’t you dare even think for a second that you aren’t going to survive.”
“Mm.. I love you, Al. I really do. Or did, I guess, because.. well, I’m sorry.. but I’m done for.” Vox says with a soft snort.
“You aren’t! Shut the fuck up!”
Vox smiles, looking at Alastor with nothing but love. “I really will miss you. I’ll miss you and your complicated feelings. But before I’m gone, please, can you try to understand me?”
“You’re not going anywhere! Didn’t I just tell you to shut up?! You- you’re..” Alastor trails off as Vox’s hand cups his right cheek.
“I love you, Al.. I really do. I wanted to.. I hoped we’d get married some day. It’s okay you don’t love me. I just- I can’t live in a world where you’re not in it. M’sorry for being selfish..” Vox whispers, his voice getting softer and softer the longer he speaks. His screen gradually dulls, becoming less and less bright. His blood soaks his clothes, soaks the floor, soaks Alastor. There’s so much blood. For once, Alastor hates the feeling of being covered in blood.
“No, Vincent, you- I-” Alastor was flailing. He had to save Vox. But Vox was distracting him, forcing him to focus on his words because if he didn’t he would miss them and Alastor would never forgive himself if he missed anything.
Vox looked at Alastor sadly, “Can you.. say it back for me? Just.. once. I’ll keep it close.”
Alastor stares at Vox, horror written all over his face. For once, tears build in his eyes. He has not cried for decades. He feels like, right now, crying doesn’t even begin to describe the grief inside of him. “I.. I love you, dear.” Alastor does everything he can not to fall apart.
Vox smiles, smiles so brightly and so happily, so lovesick, and Alastor can see blush on his face, and then it dulls—and his screen shuts off. His fans stop. His body cools. His body.
Body.
Body, body, corpse, he’s dead.
Alastor screams until his vocal cords stop working, and then his static screeches until it also malfunctions, and then Alastor goes outside and starts destroying everything until there’s nothing left to destroy, and then he’s nothing. Absolutely nothing.
He’s worthless.
Alastor will never forgive himself for murdering Vox.
“No..” Alastor whispered through his horror, ears flat against his head. His pupils had shrunk, mouth straining in the effort that the stitches were keeping his smile in place. The nausea building in his stomach was overwhelming and it took everything in him to not retch his guts out.
Rosie frowned, “I’m terribly sorry for reminding you, dear, but it had to be done. Living in that fantasy certainly wasn’t helping you heal.”
Alastor’s eye twitched, static screeching so high-pitched that any glass in the room shattered. Rosie barely reacted. “Heal? Rosie, my dear, there is no healing to be done here.” Alastor’s tone was dark and bitter. “You must be the crazy one if you think I will ever ‘heal’ by any stretch of the imagination.”
“You know: it’ll do good for you if you let go. I don’t know exactly what happened, nor does anyone, but even if you killed the man—it isn’t a good way to cope by keeping yourself stuck.” Rosie tried to get through Alastor, she really did. She was obviously the only one brave enough to attempt it.
But Alastor was stubborn. His skull was endlessly thick, impossible to crack. Rosie doubted there was any true hope for Alastor as long as he refused to move past what happened. He never even spoke about it. All she had were guesses about what might’ve happened.
She felt bad for Alastor. There was only so much she could do for her friend, though. She could not force him to do what’s best for him. All she could do was snap him out of the delusion and hope he decides to stay out of it and move on with his afterlife.
“I do not cope. I do not heal. I do not grieve. Do me a favor and keep those silly ideas out of your head, otherwise I might have to forcibly take them from you instead.” His voice was thick with the static radiating from him. It was suffocating—surrounding Rosie and attempting to choke her with it.
She did no such thing, only sighing softly. “Alright, dear. If that’s what you want for yourself, then there is nothing else I can do for you.” Rosie states sadly.
“There is no need for you to do anything anyways. I am the Radio Demon. I am above any foolish fantasies you’ve gotten into your head.” Alastor glared at her harshly, shaking with the emotion and the memories that she had forced back into his head. He did not acknowledge his trembling. “Now, if you excuse me, dear, I will be going home now.”
Rosie watched Alastor disappear into the shadows, and with that, the suffocating atmosphere left with him. With a small shake of her head, she sipped on her tea before she grabbed Alastor’s abandoned one so she would be able to clean up. She can only hope Alastor doesn’t do anything rash.
When Alastor reappeared, he noticed Vox was still sitting in the same chair as this morning, newspaper in his lap. He roughly grabbed the newspaper, noticing it was dated for months ago. It wasn’t recent. Vox wouldn’t be reading anything recent.
“You’re dead.” Alastor stated, staring at the frown on Vox’s face.
“I’m not dead. How could I be dead when I’m sitting right here, dumbass?” Vox asked with an eye roll, scoffing at the very idea that he could be dead.
Alastor stared at the man. “You haven’t moved. You didn’t go to work. You’re dead.”
Vox shrugged, “I like this chair. Why would I sit anywhere else?” Vox explained easily, “And of course I went to work. Today, I had a couple meetings, and.. heh, I might’ve killed a couple of them for sharing such stupid ideas. You would’ve killed them too, Al, if you were there!”
Alastor walks up to Vox, collapsing into his lap. He tucked his legs besides Vox’s, hands on his shoulders. “You’re freezing cold. Just like a corpse. You used to be so warm, why are you so cold if you are not dead?”
“You know about my sickness, Al.. I’m just colder than usual. I still don’t wanna talk about it. But I’ll kick it soon and I’ll be back to my normal self, I promise!” Vox said with a grin, chuckling. Then, his expression turns a bit more serious. “Who even made you think this way?”
“Rosie. She informed me that I killed you, and I did. I remember you killing yourself. I killed you, Vincent.”
Vox huffed, pouting hard at Alastor. “You would never kill me! Maybe you shouldn’t talk with her anymore if she’s going to be filling your head with those stupid thoughts and false memories.”
Alastor recognized then how badly he was shaking, face twisted in sorrow. He wanted so badly to believe Vox. They’re speaking right now, how could that happen if Vox isn’t alive? But he remembers. Surely that’s the correct part, and not this. He holds the sides of Vox’s casing, the freezing cold making him shiver. “You killed yourself because I was stupid. We couldn’t be partners because I was a fool. Now you’re dead, and I’m clinging onto your corpse like a delusional freak.”
Alastor jumps at the feeling of hands against his face—Vox’s hands. They were warm. “I think you should stay here from now on. I don’t want you to be this distressed again.. I don’t like seeing you so sad, Al. It doesn’t fit your face.” Vox complains, worry written all over his face.
Alastor leans into the touch, desperately grasping Vox’s cold screen. But his hands were so warm. He doesn’t think about the difference. “But I- I have duties. You have duties too, don’t you? It wouldn’t work.”
Vox shrugs, chuckling as he stares at Alastor with an almost bashful expression. He looks away nervously, his face beginning to flush. “You know me. I’m greedy. If it means I get to spend every second of every day with you, I would happily drop my company. And I will. I want to make sure you never think this way ever again.”
Alastor stares deeply into Vox. He’s right. He doesn’t want to feel this way ever again either. It’ll be a lot better when it’s just the two of them. No hotel, no Rosie, just him and Vox spending the rest of their days here. Vox can’t be dead. If he were dead, he wouldn’t be here, holding his face and talking to him. “Ah.. alright. I’ve never been able to not indulge you, dear.” Alastor says softly, a small smile on his face as he looks at his partner.
Vox laughs triumphantly, “I know! Good thing I didn’t have to resort to begging, otherwise you would’ve been truly fucked!”
Alastor laughs alongside Vox, hugging his body closer to his own as he rests his head against his shoulder. Cold. It’s okay, he’s just sick, he’ll get better soon and then he’ll feel warm again. “I can’t deny that. Hmm, should we make due on your plans, dear?”
“I thought you’d never ask. Carry me to our bed, okay?”
Alastor hums, rolling his eyes as he stands. He takes Vox into his arms, holding him bridal style. Vox is limp in his hold, simply just relaxing into him. “Do you seriously have to act like such a spoiled princess?”
“I would stop if you stopped actually indulging me!” Vox says with a cheeky smile.
Alastor huffs, carrying him into their bedroom. He places Vox into their bed, tucking him under the covers before he places himself in as well. He scoots himself closer to Vox, wrapping himself up in his arms, tucking his head underneath his silly picture box head.
They lay there in comfortable silence for a long while, before Vox breaks it. “..I love you, Al.” He whispers.
Alastor sighs softly. He’ll never get tired of hearing Vox say that to him. He’s so very happy he’s finally allowed to return the favor. “I love you too, dearest.”
They lay there in the quiet. It’s completely dark, Vox’s cold, limp body not giving off even a hint of light as his screen was completely dark. Alastor’s room was prim and proper, but just the next room over, it was still completely covered in Vox’s blood. Alastor never had the heart to clean it. And now, he would never ever open that door and see what lies inside. It would break the illusion.
And now Alastor would never leave his house. It’s just the two of them together, where Alastor drags his corpse around and pretends that he’s alive and that he didn’t kill him. That everything between them is completely okay.
And somewhere, somewhere that no one has ever seen or experienced, what’s left of Vox stares in aching pain and regret.
Perhaps someday he would be reunited for real with Alastor. That day would surely not be coming for a long time, though. Until then he will have to do nothing but watch as Alastor digs himself a deeper and deeper hole for himself.