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It wasn’t love at first sight. That is a cliché as far as Vox is concerned. No, love at first sight would be too simple, and there is nothing simple about this thing between them. No. Vox put in the work to make it happen because someone had to. Because he knew that it wouldn’t be sufficient to admire Alastor from afar. Vox had followed his rise to prominence with increasing interest, attracted by the idea of having met his match; if they were great on their own, wouldn’t they be even greater together? It just made sense. So he had to make sure Alastor noticed him too.
Vox spent many restless days and sleepless nights not quite plotting but coming up with a plan, a strategy to approach Alastor that would intrigue him, that would make Alastor want to know him.
How do you get past a hard shell of aloofness (and what could be either apathy or actual dislike)? How do you convince someone like that to choose you? By making them think it was their idea. Little by little Vox plants that seed and waits. He keeps impatience at bay but only just, until one day he gets what he wants and Alastor is there and his presence is enough, an admission in and of itself: I’m here because I chose you.
To be fair, there was no other alternative, Vox thinks. He should know, he saw to that.
He thinks it was a coincidence that we met, he really thinks this was his choice.
The realization dawns on Vox and a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth because it’s ludicrous. How could Alastor think that? It’s a disservice to everything Vox did to get him, to get them to where they are now. And Vox should breathe easier now, he has Alastor—inasmuch as anyone can have Alastor. Then why is he still restless, still sleepless? Alastor’s indifference is a dagger, it hurts like hell.
I can’t let you go .
The first few arguments weren’t all that bad, regular fare in any relationship and more so in one where they were perceived as rivals by everyone else. That was alright, it was a small price to pay. Things would get better as they grew together and got used to each other. Only this didn’t happen. Time, it seemed, only drove the wedge between them deeper. Arguments turned into fights. But still Vox wouldn’t let go.
I will hold onto this if it kills me, I will hold onto you if it destroys us both.
Now and then someone asks, “Are you together?”
“It’s complicated,” Vox replies.
Still they keep drifting apart and Vox can’t take it. After all that work, all that dedication, Alastor thinks he can just leave? Well, Vox won’t stand for it.
I can keep this going for the both of us, and we’re not done until I say we are. I’ll take your hatred if I can’t have your love.