Archive of Our Own

Even with the gusts of wind that blew past them, the short alley just outside of Vox’s studio was warmer than normal; it was close to uncomfortable. Or, perhaps, it was just Alastor.

”I love you.”

The Radio Demon could feel the slight curl of his shoulders as he stared at the man in front of him with crossed arms. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He could only stare at the almost desperate desire of Vox’s expression.

His own smile had dropped to a thin, uncomfortable line – close to bordering a frown – at the bright... joy the other exuded with the admission; Vox’s smile strained with how wide it had grown.

It made Alastor sick to his stomach because he knew.

Because, even with the loving words, Alastor knew that he didn’t feel the same. That he wouldn’t, ever, feel the same. That he couldn’t no matter how much he may have wanted to.

Except, Vox knew that too, didn’t he?

Alastor looked away from the expectant face with furrowed brows. “Vox, I...” He couldn’t look at him, especially with the bright emotions that showed so easily through his smile.

“Oh, Alastor.” Vox practically purred his name with a happy smile, leaning forward to reach a clawed hand out to run against his shoulder. “I know you can feel the same for me.” Vox tilted his head, reaching his other hand up to gently touch Alastor’s chin. “Me and you, it would work; we’d be so powerful together. Don’t you want that? Don’t you want me?” There was heavy intensity to his voice; it made Alastor’s spine tingle with stiffness.

“...”

The hand on Alastor’s chin turned Alastor’s face back in the direction of Vox’s glowing screen; the short, quiet clicks of Vox’s tongue making Alastor look at him once again.

Vox’s smile was large, spread across almost half of his face. There was a viciousness to it, with the amount of power that seemed to emit from it. “Alastor, please. I love you.” Vox softened his features with the cooed words.

The repeated sentence only made the sickening guilt grow in the pit of Alastor’s stomach.

“Vox...” Alastor’s face screwed up in guilt as he once again looked away from Vox’s face to instead look down. He could feel something close to disgust running through his body – up his arms, down his legs, through his mind – though it was mostly toward himself, was it?

“No, I-I can’t...” Alastor’s ears flattened slightly.

“...”

The grip that had remained on his face and shoulder tightened.

“I’m sorry.”

It only lasted a second, but, even when released, Alastor could feel the ghost of Vox’s tight grasp. He chose to ignore it, biting his tongue before finally looking back over after a silent moment.

The Radio Demon’s eyes almost seemed to dilate at the darkened look the other overlord gave him. Even with the glare, though, Vox’s smile persisted; if not sharper.

The other hadn’t moved from where he leaned down to mean Alastor’s face. The sharpened smile made the close proximity stiff.

“Vox-”

“You’re wrong.” Alastor could hear the audible squeeze of the other man’s fists; the expensive leather squeaking against itself. “You don’t understand, Alastor.” There was a whisper of desperation in his voice, even if Vox kept it even.

“But I do, Vox.” Alastor’s voice was close to desperate, too; all he wanted was for Vox to understand him. “You-” Alastor raised a hand to squeeze the front of his coat in a tightening fist. His ears only flattened more, and his eyes moved away from the other man.

Alastor licked his lips, wetting them from when they’d dried. “You never cared, Vox.” It was practically a whisper. “You know I can’t reciprocate feelings. For anyone.” His shoulders hunched with the admission; his lips quivered.

Vox was quiet for a moment, before, “...Stop speaking like a child, Alastor.” The harsh lilt of his voice made Alastor stiffen; the words made him prickle with annoyance. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re ruling overlords now, you shouldn’t still be thinking things so lowly.”

The words made Alastor look over, finally, to stare at the disgusted look that covered the other’s face. Vox’s smile was practically a bare of his teeth.

“...” The quell of sickness in the pit of his stomach had begun to turn into more of a sharp, quickly growing irritation. Alastor squinted at him.

Why? Why couldn’t Vox understand? Why wouldn’t he?

“I advise you be careful with what you say, Vox.” Alastor wasn’t a child. “I’m... stronger than I used to be.” He could feel the darkening of his own expression, could see Vox did, too. He squeezed his empty hand into a fist.

Alastor could see the surprised hesitance in Vox’s smile, though it was gone before he could so much as blink. There was a pause as Vox only stared at him.

The moment seemed to drag on forever before Vox even moved. When he did, though, it was quick. Vox straightened from the slight lean he’d held only minutes before; his posture became sturdier than before, his shoulders almost looked wider.

The smile that once held so much simmering fury turned bright with practiced ease.

The fact that Alastor could barely feel the anger of the other – it being practically invisible, now – made a twinge of stiffness shoot through his shoulders; his own posture straightening.

It only lasted a second, though.

Vox ran a hand down the front of his coat with a look of indifference. “Well... you’re rather melodramatic, Alastor.” He took a breath in. “Tell me,” He tossed the Radio Demon an easy smile, a brow lifted. His words were once again practically a purr as he tilted his head. “Would I be your seventh victim today, or the eighth?”

Alastor could only frown. His shoulders had slowly slumped with the moment of silence that had passed between them as his own anger seemed to die out.

Vox hummed, flicking his wrist. A cigar appeared. “Do you mind if I smoke?” He tilted his head with a strained smile.

The Radio Demon stared at the blue, clawed hand as it wrapped around the cigar. “Smoke?” Why would he ask?

Vox hummed once again, lighting the thick, expensive cigar with another flick of his wrist without waiting for an answer. “Yes,” He took a deep drag, keeping his eyes locked with Alastor’s own. The thick smoke clouded in front of him before he spoke his next words.

“I always smoke before a kill. Somehow,” He stared straight into Alastor’s eyes. “It... enhances my performance." His eyes widened with a deranged sort of delight. He opened his hands, shaking them in a showy sort of way.

The inky black tendrils that lifted from the shadows of the alleyway, just behind Vox, made Alastor’s own eyes widen. He opened his mouth, almost as if to speak, but nothing came out as he took a stumbling step back from the slicing smack of the tendril.

The sickening crack of the tendril was just barely loud enough to cover the crunch that resounded from Alastor’s nose. He could hear the glass of his monocle shatter; could feel the small pieces scrape his skin as they fell. The noise, however, wasn’t able to cover the instant pain that radiated from his nose.

The pain made him take a staggered step backward, a hand raising to steady himself against the brick wall behind him.

Alastor’s eyes were wide, his pupils barely visible with how dilated they were, as blood began to quickly seep down from his aching nose; it ran down his face, dripping off his chin to land anywhere it possibly could. He could only raise his other shaking hand to prod at the sensitive skin, trying to stop the blood as gently as he could.

Alastor made no noise. Only a silent, shaky breath in through his mouth sounded from him.

“How dare you lead me on.” The sharp lilt of the words made Alastor look up; his face was screwed up in pain as he made eye contact with the other once more. “How dare you.” Vox seethed, once again. His eyes were squinted in disgust as he glared at the Radio Demon, a frown finally overtaking his smile.

“What?” Alastor’s voice was quiet – close to being inaudible. “When did I-”

He was cut off by another sharp tendril slicing through the skin of his arm.

A quiet gasp escaped his lips when it hit. Once it had receded again, Alastor dropped the hand that held his nose to instead press down on it. The shaky smile he’d tried to hold before dropped completely as pain emitted from his arm – as he realized something.

“Ow.” Alastor could feel the color of his eyes change, even if it was slight. He could see the light glow of them on his nose.

He stared at Vox through half-lidded eyes, ears flattened completely against his head, now.

“Alastor...” The Radio Demon didn’t move when Vox reached his clawed hand out toward his face. “Oh. Alastor.” Vox’s eyes were wide with something akin to insanity, his brows were furrowed with the same look, as he cooed the name.

“Don’t lie to me.” Vox touched Alastor’s cheek with gentle fingers, purring the words. He ran them up and down softly, staring at the lipped smile that Alastor forced to appear. Vox licked his lips as his eyes caught on the blood that continued to run down from his nose, partially covering his lips. “Or yourself.”

Vox smiled again, with all his teeth. He tilted Alastor’s face up to better stare at each other. He eyed the thick red trail, a bright glint in his eyes.

“Why lie to me?” he asked, moving his fingers to run along Alastor’s lip slowly. Blood coated them, even if Alastor could barely feel the gentle, ghost of a touch. “People don’t not feel love-” His hand returned to Alastor’s cheek, pinching it lightly. “That’s such a silly notion!”

The touch of his fingers left the residue blood to stick to Alastor’s cheek.

Alastor could only stare.

He lowered his bloodied hand back to his side, slowly. It made his shoulders hunch slightly, though he chose to ignore it, even if he knew it made him look smaller, to lean his back against the wall behind him.

“The idea of you,” Alastor put his hand on the wall as Vox continued to speak. He could feel the warm blood as it trickled down through his fingers from the wound. “Not loving me.” Vox let out something close to a chuckle. “It’s ridiculous.” Alastor didn’t avert his eyes, even when Vox pinched his cheek once more before finally dropping his hand moments later.

Alastor could feel the shadows as they covered his hand.

Vox’s smile became smaller, though his eyes still held the same look. “You... you need me. Want me.”

The Radio Demon tilted his head, lifting a brow with a hum. He’s not sure when it happened, but his smile seemed to have become more real than before. Vox only stared, waiting.

Before Alastor could say anything, though, there was the sickening snap of tendrils as they once again split through the air with a pitched crack.

“Not really~”

His smile had turned sharper than before as he watched the other overlord take a step back with a look of surprise. The loud sound similar to that of glass shattering mixed with the static shrill of a television screen only made Alastor’s smile brighten.

“Not anymore.” Alastor could feel the cold embrace of the shadow's envelope his entire body.

Vox wasn’t quick enough to escape the sharp smack of tendrils against his screen; they cracked it, yet Alastor had disappeared before any of the glass could hit the ground.

Alastor stumbled out of from the shadows when he’d finally reached the room - his room. He was close to falling over with the amount of speed he’d picked up over the course of the few miles it’d taken to get away from Vox’s studio.

He had to steady himself on the wall to avoid tumbling over.

Alastor took a shaky breath in through his mouth; he could taste the thick blood that had happened to slip through his lips. The Radio Demon watched the shadows as they began to recede back to how they normally looked, feeling the swell of color that filled his eyes begin to leave, too.

His body trembled with the adrenaline that continued to run through his veins. The shaking of his legs made him lean completely on the wall for balance; it didn’t take long, though, before he’d begun to slide down it to sit on the carpeted floor.

The tension of his face – the furrowed browns, blown eyes – seemed to slowly fade as he sat on the floor. The trembling, too, took only a few moments of sitting to stop completely, but with its end, it only brought the thoughts back.

Alastor slumped, curling into himself. He pulled his knees as close to his chest as they would go.

The blurriness of his vision was ignored to hug his legs tightly, burying his head against them.

He wanted to stop the sharp feeling that filled the pit of his stomach as he began to rock slowly.

Alastor ignored the quickly cooling blood that began to seep into his clothes, even as it turned them cold against his skin.

Maybe, perhaps, tomorrow would be better.