Chapter Text
It was quite dark outside. Hell was usually dark, but recently it had been feeling darker for Vox.
Regenerating body parts was a slow and boring process. Vox’s body had finally regrown, yet he felt unable to move. Even during his absence, the world kept moving. Things happened all around him, and Vox felt blind. His company had even been renamed to VeeTek, arguably a worse name. VoxTek just ran off the tongue easier. What did Val and Vel even know about running a company? Especially Val–the new leader, somehow. Valentino was not fit to run Vox’s business.
Well, he couldn't really tell if Val would be a good CEO. He hadn't paid much attention to him as he got closer to his goal of being a god, and now Valentino acted like he didn't exist.
Every day began to blend together. Vox could no longer tell the difference between day or night, right or wrong, awake or asleep; it was all the same. It was always the same. No matter what was happening around him, all Vox felt was a deep emptiness. He assumed the feeling would leave as his body returned, but it only grew as the days passed.
Vox didn't feel like he was good enough to wear his usual suit. He wore a plain pair of pajamas every day. His bedroom might as well have been locked, for the door never opened. He had everything he needed in his room, after all, and it's not like anybody cared enough to visit — not even his closest business partners.
He was buried beneath his covers, feeling empty as per usual. His body was skinnier than usual. Vox wasn't eating often, only when Ethan would sneak him meals. Even so, they were usually just boring foods that Vox didn't like, so they were left on the tray they were placed on.
Vox turned to face his dresser. An ominous feeling emanated from the drawers. He knew the feeling, of course he did. He'd been feeling it for far too long. Vox sat up and slowly opened the drawer.
Inside the drawer were some batteries, screen towels, chargers, and the thing giving Vox a slight sliver of hope.
It certainly wouldn't give any ordinary person hope, but Vox was far from ordinary. He grabbed the handle of a small knife. It was a similar knife to the one that he used to kill people when he was alive. The grip strangely comforted Vox’s hand. He twisted it around, staring at the blade.
Vox rolled his sleeves up hesitantly. He didn't know why he was hesitant; he wanted to do this. The knife quickly sliced through the skin on his left forearm, leaving two wounds.
He immediately reeled back, dropping the knife on the ground. His teeth clenched together. Blue blood dripped from his arm as he grabbed the two scars. His chest heaved. It wasn't enough.
He found himself teleporting somewhere. He couldn't exactly tell where; his vision was blurring more by the second. There were voices surrounding him, but he didn't care.
Something vibrated between his antennas. Vox followed the vibration, and he was led to another knife — though it was different. It was white and gold, meaning it was angelic steel. He let go of his open wounds and grabbed the angelic knife. More voices became louder, but their words were inaudible.
“Now, what do we have here?”
There was a voice Vox recognized. “Alastor?” His voice broke as newfound tears rushed down his screen.
“What are you doing here? Wait, don't tell me. Let me guess–”
“I don't care about what you have to say.” Vox turned away from Alastor, preparing to plunge the knife into his screen.
Alastor summoned a tentacle and slammed Vox into a nearby wall. “I wouldn’t be so hasty.”
“Ow, fuck!” Vox blinked the tears away, realizing the voices were gone and that he was in a Carmine Industry factory. Every worker had run out of fear of the two overlords fighting. The knife fell from his hand onto the ground.
Alastor grabbed Vox’s scarred arm. “What happened here? Same thing you were planning on doing with this angelic weapon?”
“No, I was just gonna kill myself with that knife,” responded Vox. “Now let me go.”
He ignored Vox’s request. “Aw, you poor thing.”
“Don’t mock me. Just let me kill myself already.”
“I don't think so, friend.”
Vox’s voice glitched. “Let-let me go, bitch!” He thrashed his arms around in Alastor’s tendrils until he went limp and began sobbing. “Just let me go…”
“My my, you fall apart so easily. Why are you so desperate to stab yourself?” Alastor rubbed the skin around the gashes on Vox’s forearm.
“Because my life fucking sucks… My-” Vox sniffled, “my ratings are at an all-time low, and I just wanna kill myself…”
Alastor looked at him, whether his gaze was mocking or caring, Vox couldn't tell, though he probably knew the answer. “Isn't that a bit dramatic? I'm sure there are things you can do other than committing suicide.”
“I don't want to do anything else.”
“Well, I'm sorry, pal, but I can't let you do this.”
“The second you let go of me, I'm grabbing an angelic weapon and killing myself.”
Alastor's eyes were half-lidded as he smiled. “Fine, have it your way!”
“Huh?”
He wrapped a tentacle around Vox’s wounded arm and began dragging him out of the factory. Alastor ignored the pathetic man being brought behind him as he walked back to the hotel.
“Why the fuck are you bringing me here?!” Vox punched the tendril wrapped around his waist.
Alastor stopped by the entrance and turned to face Vox. “You gave everyone quite a show earlier, hm?”
“...What are you getting at?”
“What I'm getting at is that it would be quite embarrassing for you to have to walk all the way back to your little tower. After all, you can't teleport anymore, right?”
Vox hesitated for a second too long.
“I thought so.”
“How would you even know?”
“Because,” he started, rubbing a tentacle against the fresh wounds on Vox’s arm, “you would have left by now.”
Vox winced and clenched his fists. “Fuck you.”
“No need to be so angry about it! It simply means you're at rock bottom — meaning you can only go up from here!” laughed Alastor.
“Yeah, I'm not really planning on going to heaven.” He rolled his eyes.
“You aren't?” Alastor smiled widely. “Well, that's too bad, because you're coming to the hotel with me!”
Vox looked unimpressed. “Hah, right. I'm not doing a thing you say.”
“Do I need to up the stakes, then?” He pulled Vox close.
“I don't really have anything you could put on the line.”
“Your dignity, perhaps?”
“Once again, I don't have anything.”
“Well, I could just tell all of Hell about what I've seen today. Powerlessness and all.”
His eyelid twitched. “Why do you want me there anyway?”
“I have my reasons. Do I have to tell you everything?” Alastor grabbed the bottom of Vox’s screen. “How about this. You stay at the hotel for at least a month, and I don't tell everyone about today's little incident.” He held his arm out and freed Vox’s non-damaged one.
A month? Well, Vox had already been withering away in his bedroom for a few months, so maybe one more wouldn't hurt. Any more hits to his reputation would probably kill him, no angelic weapon needed.
He hesitantly grabbed Alastor’s hand and shook it. “It’s a deal.”
Alastor shook Vox’s hand eagerly. Green smoke emanated around until it disappeared completely. He cleared his throat. “Well, let's get going, hm? Still need me to carry you?”
“No, I'm good.” Vox was dropped onto the ground unceremoniously.
“Ah, I'll take care of that for you!” Alastor twirled his finger and stitched together the skin on Vox’s left arm. “You're welcome.”
He crawled from the ground and dusted off his knees. “Thanks,” he mumbled.
The Hazbin Hotel was just a few paces forward. The building loomed over Vox, who felt strangely nervous. Alastor probably had ulterior motives, but Vel and Val would kill him if they found out about his suicide attempt.
The two demons walked forward, one much more confident than the other.
Alastor opened the door wide and ushered Vox inside with a bow.
“What a gentleman,” Vox mocked. He walked forward and was immediately blinded by the bright light.
The building was filled with sinners, filled with newfound ambition for redemption. Two people noticed Vox before anyone else.
“Alastor, what the fuck is he doing here?” Vaggi ran forward, spear first. The sharp point was aimed straight at Vox’s screen.
He tried to grab the angelic weapon, but was interrupted.
Alastor grabbed Vox by the shirt, like a cat grabbing a kitten by the scruff. “Oh, don't be afraid. He's here because…” he shook Vox around.
Vox continued Alastor's sentence, “This dick is making me stay here.”
“...What?” Charlie's eyes were wide.
“We made a little deal. I found him… Ah, right, I can’t say it! Tell ‘em, Vox!” He dropped Vox and pointed to the confused couple.
“I tried to… um, y'know… stop living, and he's blackmailing me into staying here,” Vox explained.
Vaggi facepalmed. “Alastor, are you kidding me?”
“Hm, no! He explained it pretty well.” Alastor grabbed Vox’s shoulders.
“Wait, wait, wait… You tried to commit suicide?! Are you okay?!” Charlie grabbed Vox’s stitched arm and stared intensely. “Did you do this?”
“Yeah, maybe. Can I just get a room or something? I wanna lie down.” He snatched his arm away from Charlie's hand.
Charlie backed away. “Sorry, I don't think we have any rooms left–”
“Oh, that's fine! He can sleep in my room.”
Vox turned his head quickly and stared at Alastor. “What?!”
“...Yeah, I second that. What?” Vaggi looked around, feeling like the only sane person in the room.
“We do have sleeping bags, right?” Alastor raised an eyebrow.
Charlie fixed her dropped jaw. “Uh, right. Yes, we do! Come with me, you two!” She ran towards Alastor's room.
Alastor removed his arms from Vox’s shoulders. “You heard the lady, let's go!”
Vox laughed. “This is so stupid…” He followed Charlie along with Alastor.
Alastor's room was very large. One of the walls was replaced with an impossibly large blue forest. A perfectly made queen bed sat across from a fireplace, and everything was so red.
“Wow,” Vox muttered.
“Too amazed for words?” Alastor laughed. “I know, I'm great at interior decorating.”
“I have a sleeping bag~!” Charlie sang, running through the doorway.
“And I'm here too, because we need to talk about this,” said Vaggi sternly. She followed after Charlie.
Alastor sat down on the side of his bed. “What's there to talk about?”
“Well, we all know about what happened not long ago… I think we should just clear some things up.” Charlie placed the sleeping bag on the ground along with a pillow.
“Ah, I remember now!” Alastor said. “When he tried to kill all of Hell, and especially me!”
Vox looked away.
“Alastor…” she whispered. “We wanna make sure he feels comfortable!”
“It’s fine,” Vox muttered, setting up the sleeping bag. “What did you want to clear up?”
Charlie sat down beside Alastor's bed. “Just a few rules, nothing too serious. One, no suicide, two, no self-harm, three, no hurting other residents, and four, remember to stay positive!”
“Sounds simple,” he said, crawling into the sleeping bag. “Good night.”
“Uh, there's more, actually. You also–”
“I think we should let him sleep, honey,” Vaggi interrupted her with a touch to the shoulder.
Charlie sighed. “Yeah, okay. If anything happens, let us know!” She grabbed Vaggi's hand and exited Alastor's room.
Vox stared at the ceiling silently.
“...Well, I'll go get changed into my pajamas.” Alastor stood up and grabbed a pair of pajamas.
Vox fell asleep as soon as Alastor left the room.
Alastor was woken by a rustling sound. He sat up and looked around, but didn't see anything. He leaned over the edge of his bed and noticed Vox shaking.
He looked like an animal having a nightmare. His screen was displaying strange colours that confused Alastor. His limbs jolted around and shook the loud sleeping bag.
“Vox.”
His limbs stilled for just a second, then continued shaking.
“Vox, wake up.” Alastor grabbed Vox’s hand.
“Ah, shit–!” Vox sat up and looked around. His screen was back to normal, not counting his terrified expression. “...Alastor, what the–”
“What was that?” he asked with lidded eyes. “It's late, and you were being very loud.”
“Sorry, it was… It was just a nightmare.” He held his chest.
“Why was it so violent? I thought you were having a seizure.”
“I–I don't know. Sorry.”
“What was the dream about?”
“Um… you.”
“What did I do?”
“It was at the factory, when I tried to kill myself, but you did it instead.”
“Why did it scare you so bad? I thought you wanted to die.”
Vox clutched the neck hole of his shirt. “You were talking about old stuff. I just got really stressed.”
Alastor nodded and began to lie on his stomach. “What did I say?”
“You were making fun of how I asked to be partners, and– wait, why are you asking so many questions?” Vox lay back down.
“Just curious! Is that sleeping bag comfortable?” Alastor smiled.
“Not really, but it's fine.”
“If I got you a more comfortable blanket, would you be quieter?”
Vox tilted his head. “Yeah, I guess.”
Alastor summoned a blanket into the air, and it fell onto Vox’s body.
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Hm?”
“I mean… The last time we talked, I was trying to kill you, and before that, I was shoving you around in an office chair.”
“Oh, Vincent,” he chuckled. “I thought you’d know by now! I always have something planned, whether it's visible to you or not.”
“Right, I should've guessed. If you're planning on killing me, then make it quick.” Vox curled further into himself. His hands tightened around his knees. He immediately fell asleep, full of exhaustion.
Alastor's eyebrows pinched together at that last sentence. Of course he wouldn't kill him. That would just be boring. He wasn't even telling the truth about having a plan. This was all just an amalgamation of random choices he made; every strange choice he made was sending shivers down his spine, especially the one that ended up with Vox in his room.
He stared at Vox’s back. He was still wearing those ratty pajamas, and the blanket hardly covered him. He must've been freezing.
Alastor slowly pulled the blanket over Vox’s sleeping body, then turned to face the wall. Maybe this would be easier to think about in the morning. He pulled his sleep mask down and then fell asleep.
It wasn't easy. It was a lot harder with Vox somehow spread all across Alastor’s floor. Alastor stood up out of bed, then looked at Vox. All of his limbs were separated.
He snapped his fingers and changed into his normal outfit, then fixed his bowtie.
He looked back at Vox. He'd completely messed up his sleeping bag and blanket, and would probably be drooling if his television-head was turned on.
Alastor laughed to himself and left his bedroom. Not many sinners were awake, though there were a few in the lobby. He walked down the stairs and waved. “Good morning, Vagnes!”
“Not my name, but good morning to you too.” She sipped on a mug of coffee next to Charlie.
“Hey Alastor!” Charlie waved. “Was Vox… good?”
He sat down on the couch along with the couple. “He was quite loud. Though he didn’t cause trouble, if that’s what you’re asking. He had a nightmare or something, and woke me up in the middle of the night! Inconsiderate, right?”
“Alastor, why do you actually want him here?” asked Vaggi.
Alastor giggled. “Well, he looks pathetic, all suicidal like this, what can I say? I’m surprised he even agreed to join us.”
“You’re sadistic as fuck.”
“Mm, maybe.”
“Well, either way, I’m glad he’s here to join us! Having him here could prove that anybody can be redeemed!” Charlie raised her arms in the air, too cheerful for how early it was.
“‘Sup, fuckers?” Vox itched his armpit as he walked down the stairs. “...What, something on my face?”
“Anybody, huh?” Vaggi gave Vox a judgmental face. “Do you even have any other clothes?”
“No, I left it all at home. Why?”
Alastor stood up. “This gives me an idea! Charlie, why don’t we get some housewarming gifts for our new guest?”
“We have some spare clothes we can give him…” Charlie noticed the hint of anger appear in Alastor’s eyes, “...I mean, let’s go shopping!”
“Then it’s settled! Vangelica, make sure he doesn’t get into trouble.” Alastor pointed to her and winked.
She groaned. “Fuck you.”
“I’m just gonna go back to Alastor’s room,” Vox mumbled.
“Is this dress really necessary?” Charlie felt the hem of the fancy dress Alastor had gifted.
“Oh, hush,” he corrected, “we need to look our best, dear!” His suit was black with red stitching details.
They both walked around the local mall. There were a few stores Charlie wanted to visit, but Alastor reminded her of the mission: to get Vox new clothes! Charlie even recommended some places she thought Vox would like, but Alastor had an idea in mind.
“There! How about we check out that place?” He pointed to a small room in the massive building.
“‘50’s Bestsellers’? Are you sure Vox would like it?”
“Trust me, I know what he needs.”
Alastor grabbed about two weeks' worth of clothes for Vox. They were all inspired by Vox’s early fashion choices, the ones he showed Alastor when they'd first met. He was feeling generous, so he also grabbed a large shark onesie.
“Is that all we needed?” Charlie asked.
“We should visit the food court before we leave.” Alastor held all three bags with a tentacle holding each.
“I don't think they have any… cannibalistic places here.”
“Oh, that's not what I'm looking for. Though they really should add one…”
“What are you looking for then?”
Alastor grabbed his chin and squinted. “Burger.”
“I'm back, little picture box!” Alastor walked back into his room and noticed Vox lying face down. “Are you asleep?”
“No,” he said, muffled. He sat up and looked at Alastor. “Are those my clothes?”
“Yep!” He threw two bags at Vox’s face, but held one in his hand.
Vox looked into the first bag and groaned. “Seriously? This shit is so unbelievably out of fashion.”
“Wow, and I expected thankfulness. I picked those out specifically for you, you know!” Alastor placed the last bag on the ground.
“Yeah, I can tell.” He looked up. “What's in that bag?”
“Haha, of course you're drawn to this one. Go ahead, open it.” The bag fell over, and the shark onesie spilled out.
Vox gasped and grabbed the outfit. “No way. You got me this?!”
“I knew you would react like this.” Alastor sat on the edge of his bed. “Yes, I did. You're welcome.”
“Val said he would shoot me if I ever got one of these.”
“I know, I know, I'm so kind.” He chuckled. “There’s something else in the bag.”
Vox searched through the shopping bag and found a cheeseburger wrapped in paper. His eyes widened as he unwrapped it and immediately took a bite. “Holy shit, I missed eating good food.”
“Don’t speak with your mouth full, you animal,” he scolded. “And the fact you consider that ‘good food’ is frightening.”
“Shut up, let me have this.” He shoved the rest of the burger down his throat. His sleeve fell to his elbow.
Alastor grabbed Vox’s wrist. “Have you gotten skinnier?”
Vox flinched and looked up at Alastor. “Excuse me?”
“No wonder you were so hungry, you must be starving!” He laughed and squeezed his fingers tightly.
“...Alastor, stop.”
“Maybe I should've gotten you more than just one cheeseburger, this won't help at all!”
Vox pulled his arm back forcefully and stood up. “...I'm gonna go take a bath,” he said suddenly.
Alastor cocked an eyebrow. “Alright.”
Vox stared into the bathroom mirror, naked. He knew he'd been getting skinnier, but this was ridiculous. The skin on his stomach sank in deep. It was disturbing to look at. Vox hadn't taken a shower or bath in a while for fear of seeing the image he was seeing now. The green stitches on his left arm stood out like a sore thumb.
Worst of all was the television head staring at him in the mirror. Despite what he told people, Vox never got used to the thing replacing his head. It was just a daily reminder of how he messed up the one thing he needed to get right in life. He planned on sacrificing all the members of his group, but he just had to die painfully, instead of simply being electrocuted like everyone else. At least he no longer had his old CRT boxy head, so it felt a little easier to look at.
He crawled into the bathtub and rested his left arm on the side. Vox wished he could let his screen stay underwater. It's not that he wouldn't be able to breathe, but if it stayed underwater for too long, he would probably die. Wait a minute.
Vox’s screen slowly slid beneath the bubbly bathwater. His vision blurred, but he kept his eyes open. It didn't hurt yet. In fact, it didn't hurt at all. Was his face waterproof?
Fine, he wouldn't kill himself that day. Vox finished cleaning up and jumped into his new shark onesie. It was soft and was large enough that it hid his body.
He exited the bathroom and sat down on his sleeping bag. It felt much more comfortable in the clean, new pajamas.
“Welcome back!” Alastor scared Vox by making his presence in the room known.
Vox pulled the blanket up to his neck. “Hey.”
“Why don't you come hang out with everyone? All of the guests are awake,” he stated.
“I'm tired; let me sleep,” Vox said sleepily.
“Come on, Vox! Don’t let the depression get to you!”
“Ugh… fuck you, you can’t make me do anything.”
“If you’re really going to be a member of the hotel, then you must participate at some point! Or I could just kick you out of my room, if that’s what you prefer.”
Vox didn’t really enjoy sleeping in Alastor’s creepy bedroom, but it was between that and sharing a room with some random sinner who would ruin his reputation. He sat up and lifted the blanket. “I hate you.”
“Wonderful!”