Work Text:
I don't want to set the world on fire
I just want to start
A flame in your heart
In my heart, I have but one desire
And that one is you
No other will do
October 7 1953. 9.30 PM.
The television was turned off. The radio tuned on a random frequency broadcast. A national channel was playing jazz songs from various renowned artists. The one being aired that night was a recording of an older title, re-performed by a rising star–a singer who was also a radio host.
By a man who was resting, leaning back with his legs crossed, right next to Vox who was about to sort out several important files. A pile of documents related to his television studio and programs, cluttered, waiting to be signed. Both were sitting on a velvet carpet in the living room, while their suit and vest had been hung away.
Signing could wait. Vox didn’t have a heart to wake this man up.
If he was even asleep, that is.
“Al…” Vox remarked.
No answer. Only an inhale and an exhale.
“If you’re getting sleepy, go to bed, or to the sofa. My back hurts.”
Alastor shifted a little, just to make his leaning on Vox’s shoulder heavier.
Of course he was only pretending to sleep. Vox grunted.
Even so, he still didn’t wake him up. Maybe Alastor wanted to get on his nerves–as always. Maybe he just needed a few relaxing minutes, enjoying every second without too much noise aside from his own singing on the radio. What a narcissist.
Vox’s head turned. He could only see a side of Alastor’s face, but a smile was lined pretty clearly there, looking even lovelier with the curly eyelashes from the closed lids.
Just like Alastor, Vox didn’t mind cherishing such a settled moment. Their days together were usually tumultuous, full of discussion, gossip, and debates–even mundane matters like clothes placement and dirty cups were up for debate. While both having silver tongues, being in silence for a few minutes wasn’t a bad thing for them.
Carefully, Vox caressed Alastor’s hair to the back of his ear. He seemed to sleep so soundly. As sound as he was when Vox found him fell asleep with broadcasting scripts around him several days ago.
And then that smile. Dear Lord. That smile.
Unlike Alastor’s typical smile which appeared to be proud, condescending, fake, or just being overly joyful, his smile at the moment felt serene, and warm.
The same smile that caught Vox’s attention when they talked at a bar, when Alastor rested his chin on a hand, half-drunk, staring at Vox as if he was flying in a dreamy sky. Or when he enjoyed the street views from a car window without a word, on the day Vox took him to his hometown in New Orleans, Louisiana.
Or, when they were on a cruise trip to Seattle, Washington. They lounged on the ship bow, sharing cigarettes while staring at the sunset and listening to the crashing ocean waves. There, Vox, who was relishing the blow of sea breeze, caught Alastor looking at him–with the same smile. You look more captivating when you’re not being obnoxious, his comment followed.
A genuine tender smile. A sign of comfort. Alastor, who barely trusted any man in his life, was feeling comfortable enough on Vox’s side, appreciating his presence.
It was more than enough to set a flame in Vox’s heart.
His fingers moved from hair to lips. He wanted to remember that smile for much longer.
Alastor faced away.
Vox snickered. “If you don’t want me to kiss you, wake up then.”
Still no answer. Trying to shift away the awkwardness, Vox picked and sorted the files he could reach just with a little move.
“Vin…”
That voice again. The voice that was heavier and raspier than the one people used to hear on radio, or even from the stage.
Vox didn’t reply, yet. He wanted to hear it again.
“Vince…”
Not yet. Vox pretended to read the documents.
“Vincent?”
“Hmm?” Finally. Vox’s grin widened.
“Do you still have some black coffee?”
“You want to stay up late?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You have a performance schedule for tomorrow, Al.”
“Indeed, for tomorrow night. I can take a nap for a few hours.”
“You will join the crime audio drama recording too on tomorrow afternoon. Just go to sleep.”
“Alright then, if you really don’t need my help.” Alastor finally stood up, no longer leaning.
“What kind of help, exactly?” By his lowered tone, Vox waited for another kind of help–Alastor knew it.
“Why, sorting out the papers for you to sign on, of course.” Alastor turned around, sat down on his knees, and stared at Vox closely. “I don't want to get into any more trouble because you forgot to sign an important file. So you better save those dirty thoughts of yours for later, Voxxy. ”
Alastor gave a soft flicker on Vox’s forehead. His flashing blue eyes accepted the challenge from Alastor’s tempting gaze. It was easier to read this man’s mind by his eyes and voice timbre than by his words.
Vox was not disappointed.
“Now go make me a coffee.” Alastor snatched some papers from Vox.
Vox stood up. “Watch me.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
When Vox was about to brew a coffee, Alastor’s singing was still airing with grace from the radio.
That night, a flame in one’s heart danced wildly.
I've lost all ambition
For worldly acclaim
I just want to be the one you love
And with your admission
That you feel the same
I'll have reached the goal I'm dreaming of
Believe me
October 8 1953. 10.00 PM.
After spending the whole day planning a new event, followed by another business appointment, Vox went home exhausted.
Arriving at the apartment, he immediately took off his suit and tie, then walked to the bedroom. He said “Hi” to Alastor, but the radio star was too busy writing and talking to a friend through a phone call in the living room. He dug into the conversation so much that his laughter burst. He barely responded to Vox’s greeting, only by a slight glance.
Leaving his briefcase full of new files lying on the side of his bed, Vox went asleep.
.
.
.
October 9 1953. 1.00 AM.
Someone touched–no, kissed Vox’s nose when he was asleep.
Blinking against the slumber, he no longer found his briefcase on bed. Alastor laid on his side, next to him. His eyes closed, while his slender fingers clasped in front of his chin, covering a part of his smile.
He wasn’t fully asleep, that was for sure.
Vox couldn’t handle his grin.
“Hey,” he said.
“Mmh…?” Alastor didn’t move much.
“You just kissed me, didn’t you?”
Alastor blinked. “Don’t you dare accusing someone who was unconscious,” he argued.
“Liar.”
“Do you have any proof?” Alastor was keeping up with Vox’s raised tone. His voice was more firm, while still being soft in the ears.
“Nothing but my sole feelings. That’s fine. Just keep your lies to yourself. I know how you like to admire me secretly.”
“Because whenever I show it in front of you, you would always ask for more–and it tires the hell out of me.” Alastor looked away from him, checking on his fingernails instead.
“So would you.” Vox reached that hand, holding it. “The difference is, I would never get tired of admiring you.”
“You’re saying that, yet you were too lazy to answer my call last afternoon.”
Vox saw Alastor’s smile faded, shifted into an awkward pout. He let his hand go from Vox’s grip.
“Is that why you ignored me when I came home?”
Alastor didn’t say anything.
Vox held his wheeze. “Were you sulking?”
“So what if I was? Is it wrong of me to feel disappointed, after trying my best to spare a few minutes among my full schedule?”
“I was still busy that time! I even had to postpone checking on new actor files for the new show, so I could go home earlier and see you.”
“Do you mean that thick pile of paper in your briefcase?”
“Yes, you have seen it yourself!” Vox rested his head on his hand. His eyes had not left Alastor. “But you were too busy talking with your friend on the phone.”
Alastor chuckled. “He wasn’t my friend, Vox. Just an acquaintance, or to be more precise, a friend of my co-worker from the radio station.”
“You spent hours talking to a friend’s friend.”
“We were discussing a pretty important matter, actually.”
“Really?”
“This co-worker of mine is a senior journalist. He accused me of playing unfair because I often stole his chance as a crime news reporter. He also published an essay in a newspaper, in which includes a vague insinuation about me. Not long after that, one of his colleagues contacted me to help clarify the misunderstanding.”
“So, do you want to counter his slander through his friends?”
“Hahaha! Why would I? Just to attack an already defeated enemy? Let him pity himself to the ground, as I fabricate stories to his friends about how I gathered news.”
“Sure. If they found out about your actual news source, they would report you to the police right away.”
“A report without any evidence would do nothing, my friend.”
“What if someone discovered a defining piece of evidence?”
“Then I would be sentenced to death.” Alastor’s eyes widened, looking higher to Vox, like a cat pleading without a meow. “You don’t want that to happen, do you?”
“Of course I don’t, my dear. Losing you is no different than losing a half of my beating heart.” Vox gave Alastor a small pinch on his cheek. “With that said, you should have told me about such a libelous publication. We would never know what people have spied on about you.”
Vox grabbed Alastor’s shoulder.
“I’ll take care of their slanderous narratives through my father’s news office,” he claimed.
“So… are you going to pay someone to write a counter essay?” Alastor tilted his head.
“No. It won’t do anything other than provoking some kind of irritating discourse. In fact, I will ask several young reporters to dig into the old journalist’s dirty little secrets, and spread them to the whole public.”
“Sounds neat. Just, take it slow. Don’t rush the work, or we will get caught.”
“I know.”
“Don’t make any reckless mistakes like you did three months ago. You need to be more diligent in planning a long game.”
“I know! My decision to fire a creative lead for clashing visions was stupid. You don’t need to remind me!” Vox pressed a couple of fingers on his forehead. “Not only did it ruin my company’s image, it also added a ton more into my work desk! I still had to manage the new creative lead’s training and work on many things that should have been done by the staff.”
“You still couldn’t recruit more employees?”
“Well…”
“I told you. You have to do something about your father’s company. I already offered you help with a notary I know, so don’t waste it. Once your business grows further, you will have your very own news office in a flick.”
“I’m on it. As long as he stays in the hospital, I have to carry out the plan carefully. I’m sure this will work out just fine.”
“Great.”
“Easy, Al. You just told me about ‘planning a long game’ yourself.”
“Fine, I’ll be waiting.”
Alastor’s smile bloomed once again. Vox lowered his head, tensing down his arm’s muscles. His gaze hooked on Alastor’s, as his fingers combed those dark brunette hair–naturally wavy, not being straightened to look ‘tidier’ in front of his listeners.
“You really love to play with my hair when I’m sleeping.” Keeping up, Alastor caressed Vox’s hair which was loosening down to his neck, jet black without any gel applied on them. “While my hair is clearly not as long as yours.”
“I’m just happy to see you being more… carefree, just being your true self, not so different from the younger Alastor I saw in your mother’s photographs.” Vox’s one finger twisted a few hair strands between Alastor’s ear. “Not becoming a stage doll with the constant smiling.”
“Didn’t you fall for me because I looked ‘pretty like a doll’?”
“True, until I realized that you’re more than that. You’re a beautiful human being, more beautiful than any heavenly angel I’ve met in my dreams.”
Alastor giggled. His cheeks blushed softly. Even such corny flirting sounded glorious when it was delivered by this man.
“To be honest with you,” Alastor tried to cover Vox’s big forehead with a bang, “I also adore this look of you better. It fits your inner spirit perfectly.”
“How perfect is it, do you think?”
“It’s so perfect that you look like a heartbroken, miserable poet!”
“How dare you!”
Alastor laughed out loud. Vox followed.
“I’m not joking.” Alastor’s fingers crawled on Vox’s neck. “I can imagine you sitting in a cemetery, writing some depressing lyrics under the cloudy sky, then singing it with your guitar.”
“Alright, that sounds pretty awesome, but I’m not that miserable!”
“But I love when you sing a somber song. Like you did a week ago. Your voice sounded smoother than usual.”
“Oh, yeah? Maybe because I was half-drunk that night.”
“I still remember it. How soothing the vibration of your singing was. So unusual.”
“Aww, you flattered me.”
Vox’s fingers stopped exploring Alastor’s hair, then moved near to his eyelids. He would never get enough of that pair of eyes, gleaming even brighter without any obstruction of glasses.
“Your compliment reminds me of one thing,” said Vox.
“What is it?”
“Your voice was also kind of different when you sang the romantic song on the radio yesterday.”
“How different was it?”
“You sounded happier, also more melancholic. You really felt the lyrics in you, and you sang it from the bottom of your heart.”
“ How did you know I sang it from the heart?” Alastor slanted his eyes. His face was getting closer, challenging him.
“It’s easy. A simple intuition told me so.” Vox lowered his tone. “You were singing that song not for its sweet jazz melodies. You were singing because there was a particular someone in your mind, and you presented the song for him.”
“I don’t think “presenting” is the correct word for it, Vincent.” Alastor also lowered his voice. “Because I have not yet sung that song in front of him.”
“Then sing it now!”
“No.”
“You stingy old man.”
“I have agreed to share my personal space with you, yet you still called me ‘stingy’.”
“Please, Al. Just this once!”
“I will have more song recordings tomorrow, and I don’t want to waste my voice at this hour.”
“That means I have to wait even longer. No problem.” Vox blinked slowly. “May I ask you for something else?”
“What else do you possibly want?”
Moving from around the eyes and temple, Vox’s fingers touched Alastor’s lower lip, then his chin, then stopped at his cheek.
“Can you call me ‘Vincent’ again?”
“...For what?”
“I love it when you called me by that name,” Vox mumbled. “I don’t easily allow anyone to call me by my real name, so when you mentioned that name, my heart was like leaping in joy.”
“I’ve been calling you like that quite often. Is it not enough?”
“Maybe?”
Alastor rolled his eyes. “As I thought. You’re the kind of person who will never get enough.”
“I just want us to be more intimate. Is that too much to ask?” Vox laughed softly. “I can guarantee that not even you are satisfied by calling my real name only at certain moments.”
“Know-it-all.”
“You yourself told me how that name suits me better, on the night we first met–I still remember it clearly.” Vox’s thick-yet-silky baritone voice was titillating in the ears. “Come on, stop lying to yourself. Call me ‘Vincent’ as much as your heart desires.”
Alastor smirked, then chuckled quietly. Gradually, that chuckle raised higher like a hyena’s snicker. Vox let him be, didn’t want to interrupt his laughter.
“Alright then,” Alastor tried to stop laughing, “if that’s what you want, Vincent. ”
Vox laughed, satisfied. “Thank you. You made me happy.”
Alastor raised his chin, staring at Vox closer. His hand cupped Vox’s cheek, feeling that wide smile. “Take me to the recording studio tomorrow, Vincent.”
“With pleasure, Al.” The ice-blue eyes stared back sharply to the hazel eyes.
“Don’t forget to make me a sunny side up breakfast with roasted chicken, Vincent.”
“Will do, darling.”
“I want to have dinner at a steak restaurant with you, so you have to go home right at 8 o’clock, Vincent.”
“Of course, sweetheart.”
“If you’re late just for once, I will never talk to you anymore, Vincent.”
“I understand, dollface.”
“You should also not go to the club with Valentino or his peers, Vincent.”
“I will come home right on your lap, my fragrant red rose.”
“Keep your promise with all of your soul, Vincent.”
“I promised like how the angels marked my death, Alastor.” Vox’s arm wrapped Alastor’s shoulder. “As long as you promise me something.”
“What kind of promise?”
“Promise that you will never leave me alone.”
Alastor didn’t answer straight away. Vox’s tone went colder. The indulging warmth was still remaining there, but the request sounded more like a threat.
A threat induced by fear.
“Vincent…” This time, Alastor called him without mocking. “No need to worry about me. I won’t go too far–”
“Promise me there will be no more flirting with Husk, Mimzy, or anybody else who wants to take you away from me.”
“Don’t take it so seriously. Whatever I did to them are solely for fun and games, and you know that–”
“Promise me not to set yourself in danger ever again… like when we were in that forest.” Vox’s speech started to tremble. “I know, I’m supposed to get used to you being covered in blood, but… not by your own blood… and not with your body lying on the ground…”
Vox tightened the hug, until he could feel Alastor’s breath on his neck.
“The very idea of losing you scared me to death, Alastor.” His voice halted. “I don’t know how I could go on without you.”
Alastor lowered his sight.
“You do know I will have to go someday, right?” His shining confidence went dim. “I am not immortal.”
“Neither am I. Do I need to go first, then?” Vox replied.
“Do you want to leave me behind?”
“No. I just thought you’ll be fine without me.”
The echoes of clock hands ticking lasted for a few seconds, filling in the silence.
“Am I right?” Vox sounded calmer, while being more straightforward. “No matter how much I treasure you–more than my family and business, even, you will cherish life by yourself in the end. I am not the only one for you. You could still be happy with someone else.”
Alastor kept his mouth shut, as Vox hadn’t looked at him again. He just blankly stared at the bedroom door, not knowing whether Alastor was smiling or not.
“It doesn’t matter. I can accept that. Thus, I only ask you to promise me, as long as I’m still alive.” Vox closed his eyes for a moment. “When I’m gone, you’ll be free.”
Looking down, Vox found Alastor closing his eyes. He thought he fell asleep, but he realized, those fastened heartbeats said otherwise. Uneasy.
“Vincent,” Alastor called.
“Yes?”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Huh?”
Alastor looked up, giving Vox a glazed gaze, with no glimpse of a smile.
“Maybe it’s true, I won’t cry over you like I did for my dear late mother, but,” Alastor was stuck for a second, “after everything you’ve done to make me stay with you, do you still dare to expect I will not feel anything when you’re gone?”
Vox stunned. It was such a rare moment to see him being so sorrowful.
“By leaving me behind on purpose, you are trying to murder me slowly, Vincent,” Alastor continued, half-whispering, barely audible.
Vox would never forget those gaze, along with those whispers.
After letting out a sigh, he kissed Alastor’s forehead.
“I just don’t want to expect too much from you, Al,” said Vox, still as calm as ever. “I’m sorry.”
“Hmm. You have been forgiven.” Alastor’s smile was finally back, albeit not as radiant as before.
“So, what would it be? Would you want us to die together?”
“Good idea, though I don’t want our deaths to leave our name and story in vain.”
“They won’t. We will definitely build a glorious legacy, I’ll make sure of it!”
Vox put his chin on Alastor’s head, letting Alastor’s face buried in his chest. Meanwhile, Alastor’s arms no longer hesitated to pull Vox deeper into the hug.
The room’s windows had been closed, even better with the maroon curtains. However, if they looked closer, the moonlight managed to shine through the curtains, albeit faintly.
“When was the last time we sat down on the apartment balcony, and watched the night sky?” asked Vox, letting go of the hug for a little.
“Three weeks ago, if I remember correctly. Or maybe more?”
“Once I’m done with the new show pre-production, I’m going to buy some bottles of drinks for us to have when we relax on the balcony.”
“I want to rest my back and read a book. Now, that reminds me of something. You should have also remembered it.”
“Remember what?”
“That mystery novel you borrowed. If you haven’t finished it yet, just put a bookmark and bring it back. I want to read it again.”
“What if we read it along instead? Or, I will read the first chapter aloud for you. I know you loved to listen to me telling a tale.”
Alastor didn’t answer. That’s a dumb idea, he thought. A dumb idea that, oddly enough, he wanted to try someday.
“Just like how I love to listen to your radio storytimes,” Vox went on.
“Nevermind. Keep the book until you’re done.”
Alastor stared at the ceiling. He couldn’t face the window, unless he turned around.
The dark void of the ceiling made him start to miss Louisiana once more, along with its swamp forests. He could find dozens of stars there–something he was impossible to experience in a big city like Los Angeles with all of its glitters. Not even the high apartment building would be enough to help him see a couple of stars.
At that moment, his gaze shifted to Vox, watching his bright smile.
Heaven knows what made those blue eyes shining like a dawn star.
“Go to sleep, Vincent. You have to go to the TV studio soon, don’t you?”
Vox simply nodded. Even being sleepy, those eyes still couldn’t stop staring.
“Alastor.”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Because other than my departed grandmother, never have I heard someone calling my real name with… such a sweet, pleasant tone.”
Vox’s eyelids began to close. What a pity. Alastor still wanted to look at those eyes for a little longer.
“I still remember the way you said my name, when we were in a library, on our first date night.”
It was a slip of a tongue. Alastor was about to argue, but he hesitated. He let Vox ramble on by himself until he got tired.
“I will always cherish those beautiful moments. Your calling is precious. Your gift bow tie is also precious. You are precious–so, so precious.”
Vox lifted his hand, wanting to touch Alastor’s face once again, but only managed to land on his neck.
“That’s why I made a promise to stay by your side to the end. I never want to tear you apart.”
Alastor didn’t want to push that hand away.
“How about you, Alastor? Will you promise me to stay by my side?” The question had been repeated.
Alastor had not found any decisive word on his head yet, still, he had to give him an answer.
“I’ll try my best.”
Silence.
“I’m not the kind of person who will make a vow or a promise on a whim,” Alastor explained. “Especially for a sentimental matter like this. I’d be afraid if I can’t fulfill it to you.”
A soft snore was heard. Vox had slept already, while Alastor hadn’t finished talking. How rude.
Slowly, Alastor’s arms reached Vox’s wide back. He leaned his head on his chest, so close that he could hear a rhythm of heartbeats.
He knew that beat pattern so well. So pacifying. He got used to hearing someone else’s heartbeat without having any urge to pull it out.
It still took him more time to get used to embracing a long cuddle, but once he was being wrapped in its warmth, he would be able to forget everything.
“If only I had an easier life,” Alastor said gently, “I wouldn’t mind spending the rest of my time with you, Vincent.”
Vincent. Every time he said the name, a spark would ignite, lighting his inner space. Just like when he asked him how he was doing after work, or when he just got beaten up by a gang of hired thugs. Or when he took the initiative to treat his wounds, to massage his sore body, or to tidy up his suit and tie. Also when he cooked especially for him–then watched him having a feast.
Or when he stared at him, near and far, from the front or the side of his face.
Alastor still remembered how dazzling the man was, standing against the violet layers of twilight sky when they were on a ship. His black hair, swept by the ocean breeze, was as soft as fine sketch lines between his pale skin and blue eyes.
A passionate flame burnt when he kissed his nose moments ago.
Hugging Vox even tighter, his heart was getting warmer.
Before falling asleep, Alastor was wondering when he could sing that song again for his true listener.
I don't want to set the world on fire
I just want to start
A flame in your heart
.
.
.
(End)