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"You're nervous," said Alastor.
He could tell because Vox usually kept himself calm and composed, always the businessman even in casual situations, such as this dinner they were having together in Alastor's home. Vox had been there many times and was surely used to it by now, but something was clearly bothering him. All throughout the meal, he'd either been fidgeting or bouncing his leg.
"Oh, you know," said Vox, trying to sound nonchalant. "There's a lot going on with VoxTek right now."
"I don't believe that to be quite true, Vox," said Alastor. "If VoxTek had been busy, you would've told me. You never pass up a chance to brag — or complain — about how business is going."
Vox stayed silent, and Alastor took that as an invitation to continue. "Do tell me, my dear fellow, what is troubling you?"
"It's just…" said Vox, trailing off. "I just… I have something I want to— never mind, it's not important anyways."
"I have never seen you this nervous. Clearly this must be important to you."
"Yeah, but it's not like you would care."
"Vox, you are my friend." Alastor noticed how Vox seemed to shrink in on himself upon hearing the word friend. "I assure you that is not a term I use lightly. I do care about whatever is bothering you."
Vox took a deep breath. "Well, you're my… friend, as well. And we've been friends for ages, haven't we? Nothing could possibly change that, right?"
Alastor resisted the urge to tell him that even though he valued their friendship a lot, trust was hard to come by in Hell, and their bond wasn't invincible — nevertheless, he nodded and let Vox continue.
"Alastor, you're an amazing person. One of the best people I know. I'm really glad that I met you."
Where was Vox even going with this? It wasn't like Alastor needed a self-esteem boost. He knew his worth, thank you very much.
"No, really, you've made me feel like I can be myself around you. No one understands me the way you do."
"Please, quit beating around the bush and get to the point," said Alastor, his radio filter slightly increasing in volume.
Vox looked somewhat taken aback, but cleared his throat and continued. "Look, after all these years of us being friends, do you maybe want to… uhh, be more than that?"
Alastor cocked his head to one side, confused. "What do you mean? Do you want to be business partners, or something? Because—"
"No, no, that's not what I mean!" Vox interjected quickly. "What I'm trying to say is that… that…"
"Or maybe you're referring to partners in crime?" said Alastor. "Or are you…"
"I'm in love with you, Alastor! Okay?!"
Alastor fell silent, his microphone emitting a sharp screech of feedback. For once, he didn't know what to say.
"...I love you," Vox said more quietly. "I have for a while. And I understand if you don't return those feelings but I really don't know what I'd do with myself if that was the case."
Alastor didn't know what to do either. In both his life and afterlife he'd had girls (and some guys, in Hell) fawning over him, but he simply ignored them. This was different, though. Vox was his friend. He couldn't just ignore him.
He didn't love Vox in that way. He didn't know if he was able to love anyone in that way.
*
When Alastor was alive, his mother told him that one day he'd marry a lovely woman, and they'd move in together and raise a family. It was simply the way the world worked. A man falls in love with a woman and they live in a house with a white picket fence and their two and a half children.
Once Alastor was a teenager, his mother sometimes asked if a girl had caught his eye yet. He'd laugh and shake his head and say, "No, not at the moment", and his mother would respond with, "Well, you'll find the right person someday".
As he got older, and saw people his age finding partners and getting married, Alastor wondered when he'd ever find the right person. It had to happen eventually. Everyone fell in love at some point.
But it never happened. All throughout his life there was never a woman who he was able to fall in love with. He had women who he was friends with, and he loved his mother a lot, but none of that was the right kind of love. Romance, that is.
Alastor sometimes heard about men who were only attracted to other men, but it was frowned upon and therefore not discussed a lot. He briefly wondered if he was one of those men, but no man was able to make him fall in love either.
Perhaps, then, he was under some sort of curse that made him unable to love properly. On the outside, he pretended like he didn't mind. And really, he had no problem with the idea of not being romantically involved with anyone. But Alastor wasn't a fool as to how his mother's disappointment grew as the years went by without him developing so much a crush, even though she tried to hide it. He didn't often seek the approval of people, but his mother was one of the exceptions.
When he died and came to Hell, it was almost a relief to find out that people didn't care so much about finding romance there. Though that didn't stop people from getting into relationships, no one would bat an eyelid at the fact that Alastor wasn't tied down to anyone.
Still, it seemed that whatever curse he'd had when he was alive had carried on into his afterlife. He was able to make friends, at least; his closest ones were a cannibal demon named Rosie and a TV demon named Vox. But they were able to experience the love that he couldn't. Rosie had a husband, and Vox had a wife when he was alive.
Alastor mostly found it a good thing that he wasn't so easily distracted by romance. It would only stand in the way of his power.
Yet a small part of him, one that he would never voice out loud, always wondered if something was wrong with him.
Why couldn't he just love people normally?
*
Vox laughed nervously. "Al, can you please say something? You've been silent for ages."
Oh, right. Vox had just confessed to him. His friend had just told Alastor he was in love with him. One of his best friends, who he'd loved for a long time, but not in the right way.
"I'm sorry, Vox. But I don't love you back."
Vox's face fell, as if not expecting this answer. "Oh. You don't… love me…"
"I love you as a friend."
"And that's not enough!" Vox exclaimed. "Why can't you just love me properly? What can I do? Tell me what I'm supposed to do!"
Alastor was taken aback. The way Vox was acting now was a far cry from the Vox he knew. He couldn't fathom how the idea of a romantic relationship could be this important. Surely Vox would find someone else eventually.
"You can't do anything," said Alastor. He briefly registered the fact that his ears were pulled back. "It's my fault. I've never been able to love anyone properly."
"I don't understand!" Vox stood up, pushing his chair away. "I thought we had something special! Why don't you love me?!"
"Vox." Alastor punctuated the word with a burst of radio static. "Please stop talking before you do something you'll regret."
There was silence for a few moments, tense and heavy and radiating with questions none of them wanted to answer. Vox was still standing, both hands planted firmly on the table as if he was ready to jump across it and attack.
"I do love you, just so you know," said Alastor. "As much as I possibly can. I'm sorry it's not enough for you. But it's never been enough for anyone."
He thought back to his mother, and the people he'd turned down, and the people in the living world who'd make remarks on why a handsome young man like him didn't have a wife yet. And now Vox. Just one more person on a long list of people he'd disappointed because of his inability to love others the way they needed.
"Yeah, right," scoffed Vox. He turned on his heel and walked away from the table, towards the front door.
"Vox, I'm sorry."
"No, you're not."
Vox didn't look back as he walked out and slammed the front door shut, leaving Alastor alone, staring at the empty seat across from him.