Chapter Text
“This is Shadow.”
The sentient silhouette of Alastor swirled through Vox’s legs, wrapping his arms around the TV Demon’s shoulders in a tight embrace. To Vox, Shadow was a rush of warm air, an embodiment of affection, and a courier of Alastor’s true feelings. He was raw, unbothered by the boundaries of the natural world, and he sunk his supple fingers into Vox’s flesh. Their connection was instantaneous.
“He seems a lot different than you,” Vox chuckled as Shadow nuzzled his face into the crook of Vox’s turtleneck. Alastor’s eye twitched.
“Yes, well, we’re not quite the same.”
Shadow traced the seams of Vox’s lapel with his finger, his empty eyes gazing into Vox’s scarlet irises.
“ Hello ,” he whispered, his voice a soft hiss in the wind. Vox blinked, mouth dropping open.
“He can talk?”
“Not much. We’ve been working through some basic phrases in English and French. Most of the time, he responds better to hand signals.”
Vox’s antennas twitched as he tilted his head, cheeks heating from the constant attention from Shadow’s curious eyes. He tapped his chest with his finger, indicating he was alluding to himself, then lifted his hand, forming a ‘V’ with his pointer and middle fingers.
“I’m Vox.”
Shadow didn’t have a soul, but his spirit was singing, his figure melting to the floor as he beheld Vox’s smile.
You’re not Vox. You’re everything to me.
✢✢✢✢✢
After the overlord meeting concluded, Shadow trailed Vox and Valentino out of the room. Alastor, engrossed in his discussion with Rosie, wouldn’t notice his absence, not that he’d care if Shadow disappeared altogether. Shadow yearned for one more glimpse of Vox’s face, and the smile he hadn’t seen glow in ages. During the entire meeting, Vox glowered in Al’s direction. Shadow failed to meet Vox’s eyes since he was forced to hover behind a chair, waiting at Alastor’s feet like a pet . He’d wanted Vox to smile just once, but he never did. Even with Valentino’s presence beside him, Vox scowled until the meeting concluded, his sourness shooting arrows of despair through Shadow’s aching soul.
Despite the new blue light he emitted, Vox was still a beacon of familiarity and a constant in Shadow's ever-shifting world. Shadow's feelings remained the same after all this time: desperate, passionate, and bursting. It was undeniable. His love spilled into his movements as he bounded down the hall and out the doors, following the trail of red smoke hot on Valentino’s heels.
The two overlords stopped in an alleyway, Valentino pressing Vox’s smaller frame against the brick wall. Shadow’s expression hollowed at the scene, body curling into a furious wisp.
“You are so tense, amorcito ,” Valentino purred, antennas drooping to brush Vox’s screen. “Did the radio freak ruffle your feathers?”
Vox rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.
“I don’t have feathers.”
“It’s a figure of speech, mi vida .”
Shadow twitched with each affectionate name that rolled off of Valentino’s tongue. Vox sighed, and Shadow’s breath hitched as the TV Demon touched Valentino’s hips. His clawed fingers tugged at the scarlet cloak of wings and positioned on the white stripes fashioned over Valentino’s behind. They fit perfectly. Shadow’s body rippled, fading into an onyx cloud of jealousy.
When Valentino leaned forward, pressing his tongue into Vox’s mouth, the dam of Shadow’s emotions collapsed, crumbling into a desperate haze. He lunged for Vox, enveloping his frame from behind.
“Mm, Val, don’t touch me like that. We’re in public.”
“Touch you like what?” Valentino pulled back. “I’m not even–” His eyes widened as he saw dark, translucent hands wrapping around Vox’s torso.
Gasping, Valentino stumbled back as Shadow enveloped Vox in his body, inky tendrils clutching the TV Demon’s neck and wrapping his legs together. Valentino unholstered Money Shot from his pants, aiming the gun at Shadow’s head, which nuzzled Vox’s screen. His eyes narrowed, teeth clenched as he watched Shadow’s affection.
“Hold still, Vox, I’ll take care of this.”
Yet Vox wasn’t listening, engulfed in the familiar sensation of Shadow’s embrace. While Valentino assumed the squeezing of Vox’s body was an act of violence, Vox knew Shadow’s intentions and could feel the desperation clouding the very essence of Shadow’s ethereal frame. Vox leaned into the living silhouette, closing his eyes as memories of Shadow flooded back. It had been years since he’d been swept up by nostalgia, drowning in thoughts of Shadow, and Alastor–
Shadow yanked Vox aside as Valentino pulled Money Shot’s trigger, the angelic bullet bouncing off of the wall while the alley echoed a loud bang.
“Fuck, it moved!”
“Val, stop!” Vox yelled as Valentino pointed his gun at Shadow, who was trembling, holding onto Vox’s shoulders from behind. Valentino closed one eye, preparing his second shot. “He’s not–”
“I believe you have something that belongs to me.” Alastor stepped into the alleyway, smile strained as he beheld Shadow’s body pressed against Vox’s. Shadow’s expression of alarm plunged into one of despair as Al’s pupils developed into radio dials. He was in for a storm of wrath later.
“Control your shadow freak, we have nothing to do with this,” Valentino growled, lowering Money Shot. Shadow shut his eyes, knowing what was coming, knowing he might never be allowed to see Vox again, and with a shaking breath, he whispered into Vox’s ventilators,
“ Please .”
As Alastor reeled Shadow in with the flick of his hand, Vox’s breath caught as his chest tightened.
“Pardon the interruption,” Alastor said, twirling his microphone staff as he turned away from Vox and Valentino.
“You’d better be,” Valentino grumbled, grasping Vox’s trembling hand. Before Shadow was tugged along to follow Alastor out of the alley, Vox’s lips curved into a small grin as he flashed him a signal with his middle and index fingers spread to form a V.
Shadow’s face brightened. Vox’s smile was enough to melt Shadow’s soul into a sentimental puddle of devotion and woe.
Alastor clutched the chain around Shadow’s neck, tugging him inside his room before slamming the door shut. Shadow was trembling, although his previous sadness had morphed into unyielding rage that not even the distorted features of his hazy face could hide.
“You can’t keep doing this!” he shouted with a voice like howling wind. Alastor snapped his fingers, the green chain disappearing.
“And YOU need to stop meddling. You truly are a nuisance.” As Alastor seated himself in a loveseat, Shadow swooped in front of him, leaving the matching chair across the room empty.
“I just wanted to see him again! Why don’t you understand?”
“That’s not Vox anymore,” Alastor muttered, jaw clenched in a strained smile as he rested his microphone staff in his lap. Shadow’s expression clouded with confusion, lip trembling.
“What?”
“The Vox you knew is gone. Now, he’s just a con man who allows a pute to keep him company.” Alastor was referencing Valentino, and Shadow’s silhouette sharpened into rigid lines at the mention of Vox’s business partner. The man who had replaced him. Alastor clicked his tongue, relaxing in his chair, “Ah, but all is well. He has his life, I have mine.”
“But what about OUR life?!” Shadow clutched his hands to his chest, reaching inside his hollow body to touch the tension growing within. “He is the same! When I saw him, he–”
“It’s been decades, mon ombre .”
Shadow sank to the floor.
Had it truly been that long?
“But…” Shadow’s voice faded into nothingness, into a void of despair. He lay on the carpet, the soft fabric not enough to comfort his aching soul. “I just want everything to go back to the way it was.” Alastor averted his eyes, looking at the empty loveseat across from him, the cushion flattened as if a ghost was seated between its arms.
“What a foolish desire.” He leaned forward, brushing a hand along the tufts on Shadow’s head. “ Quand on a pas ce que l’on aime, il faut aimer ce que l’on a .”
Shadow glared up, clutching the fibers of the rug with a fist. He breathed,
“ Mais je n’ai rien .”
When you don’t have what you like, you have to like what you have.
But I have nothing.
Vox was paranoid.
As his shoes clicked against the tile, he repeatedly glanced behind him, but no one was following. Only his shadow, lifeless and dim, shifted beneath the overhead lights. Throughout the entire rest of his work day, Vox shivered as he recalled Shadow’s touch, his tendrils wrapping around his torso. Like a phantom of desire, Shadow had grazed Vox with painful memories and squeezed enough affection into him to patch the wounds. Yet it was Shadow’s plea that made Vox realize he was missing closure, and it haunted his every thought.
Valentino was rambling about a disobedient whore when he noticed Vox was only half-present in the room with him. They’d sat down for dinner, but Vox didn’t touch the food in front of him. The TV Demon’s mind was torn between the past and the present, searching each silhouette on the wall for warm company.
“Vox? Are you even listening?”
“Yeah.” He was watching the lights flash on a sign out the window. Valentino crossed his arms.
“Well, you keep glancing at the wall. Am I really so awful to look at?” He drew out each syllable with a honeyed tone, the words dripping from his tongue like molassas.
“No…” Vox’s voice trailed off, claws flexing on the table. Valentino’s eyes narrowed, observing the TV Demon twitch and tremble.
“Voxy.” Valentino leaned forward, resting his forearms against the table as he brought his face close to Vox’s screen. Vox’s eyes widened. “Is that bullshit with Alastor’s shadow bothering you?” Sighing, Vox leaned back in his chair. He wanted to talk to Valentino about what happened, but it was too complicated to explain, and he worried the moth demon would take his curiosity about Shadow as rekindled romantic interest.
What had been between Alastor and Vox was dead and gone, yet Shadow seemed to live in the memory of their once flourishing connection.
“I need to go.”
As Vox exited the tower, Valentino observed him from the window, the cerise smoke from his pipe coiling around his spindly frame. He caught sight of his own shadow and narrowed his eyes, his chest tightening at the thought of Vox being torn from him by a lover without a body or soul.
The streets of Cannibal Town reeked of death, the sewers draining streams of blood that ran along the sidewalks. Vox avoided the piles of bones licked clean, the scraps of human flesh cast in alleyways, and he fidgeted with the lapels of his suit jacket. The citizens watched him, their smiles wide as he avoided eye-contact with each hungry gaze. This part of the city lacked Vox’s technology, Overlord Rosie oiling the cogs of her town with her own elbow grease instead of VoxTek’s quick and easy solutions. Everyone was dressed in Victorian-era attire, complimenting the vintage style of the surrounding buildings. Vox was a fish out of water, his bright-blue jacket a stain on the town’s soft reds and pinks, yet this wasn’t the first time he’d made his mark in Cannibal Town.
When Vox pushed open the doors to Rosie’s Emporium, the foyer was empty. He stepped inside, his screen illuminating the dark space with a blue glow. Shadows danced along the walls, silhouettes of the antiques and trinkets embellishing the tables grew and shrank. Vox turned in a circle, watching the shapes shift in the twilight. There was a tune stuck in the back of his head, and he allowed it to hum from his speakers. He glided into a dance, raising his hands as if there was someone in the open air to control, to clutch their waist and hold their hand. With swift feet, Vox stepped and turned, twirling his invisible partner and laughing as the walls around him chuckled along. The tune picked up its pace, and Vox closed his eyes, rubbing his hands down his torso while the shadows beheld him, leaning in for a closer look. Vox shuddered as he wrapped his arms around himself; he was lost in the song ringing from his head, immersed in the idea he wasn’t holding himself, it was someone else. Someone whose presence was fleeting and needed to be squeezed tight.
A flicker of flame caught Vox’s attention. Rosie entered the room, a candlestick clutched between her pale fingers. Her nightgown was a whisper on the floor and a satin bonnet pushed her white hair from her forehead. Vox ceased the music from his head.
“No, no, you don’t have to do that,” Rosie said, waving a hand. “I recognize that song.”
“You do?” Vox’s voice sounded more feeble than he wanted it to, embarrassment tinting his screen violet.
“Yes, Alastor hums it all the time. He said one of his old drinking buddies always requested the band to play it at his favorite joint–”
“That was me,” Vox muttered. His fist clenched as Rosie stepped into the light of his screen. The onyx abyss of her eyes cast Vox’s reflection.
“What?”
“ I was the ‘drinking buddy.’” Vox’s use of air quotes made Rosie giggle, and she brought a supple hand to her lips.
“I should have guessed. You two were quite the pair.”
“It was all for show,” Vox said, turning on his heel to make his way toward the exit. He couldn’t remember why he’d come in the first place. Rosie tilted her head.
“That’s not what I heard.”
“What did you hear?” The TV Demon snapped, stomping his foot. “What could you have possibly heard from Alastor about me? That I’m a silly, pathetic picture box he regrets spending a moment of his time with?” Vox’s anxiety and desperation had emassed into a weight of fury in his gut as he struggled to understand why Shadow had sought him out, had wrapped himself around Vox in an affectionate embrace. He’d pleaded before Alastor dragged him away, he’d said ‘please .’
As far as Vox understood, Alastor wanted nothing to do with him. Shadow didn’t get to decide if that changed, did he?
And if he did, was Vox prepared to face Shadow’s adoration, knowing it wasn’t Alastor’s?
“He never really gave a shit about me, he told me himself,” Vox grumbled, his voice a low rumble in the open space. Rosie clutched the candlestick, pearl wax dripping between her fingers.
“That was a lie, couldn’t you see it, Vox?” Vox peered over his shoulder and saw Rosie’s knotted brows. “Didn’t you see what was hiding in the shadows?”