Chapter Text
The clock struck well past midnight, and the Hazbin Hotel was swallowed in near silence. The faint creak of settling walls was all that broke the stillness.
Alastor’s room was dimly lit by the warm, flickering glow of his old radio. The device sat perched on a side table, slightly battered, its knobs gleaming faintly under the low light. The air smelled faintly of old parchment and something metallic—his signature scent of nostalgia.
He was seated on the edge of his bed at first, fingers lightly tapping the radio’s controls, humming softly to himself. The tune that poured out was smooth, rich, and coaxed from the speaker like a warm ribbon of memory: Kitty Kallen’s It’s Been a Long, Long Time.
Alastor hummed along quietly, voice low, vintage, intimate. “…Kiss me once, then kiss me twice…”
The melody swelled, and without hesitation, he rose. His movements were fluid, precise, the kind of charming, quick-footed dance that could have originated in a smoky 1920s ballroom. Each step was sharp, controlled, yet somehow effortless. His coat tails flicked with the rhythm, antlers catching glints of light, shadows scattering across the walls.
His red eyes sparkled faintly in the dimness, a rare softness behind them. He spun once, then twice, tapping a polished clawed foot to the beat, hums blending seamlessly with Kallen’s velvet voice:
“…It’s been a long, long time…”
He twirled, body moving in arcs, head tipped back ever so slightly, grinning—small, private smiles that no one else would see. The steps were old-fashioned, jaunty, a swing of the hips here, a delicate tap there, lifted straight from dance halls long gone, perfectly synchronized with the bittersweet nostalgia of the song.
Alastor paused at the chorus, letting the music wash over him as he leaned into a soft sway. His movements slowed, graceful, almost contemplative. Even in the solitude of his room, there was a certain intimacy to the way he allowed the melody to guide him, humming softly between lines:
“…Since I can’t remember when… it’s been a long, long time…”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Perhaps it was memory, perhaps longing—or perhaps the simple joy of music in its purest form. He let his fingers trail along the edge of the dresser as he danced, tiptoeing and spinning, a spectral echo of the dance halls of his living years.
The radio sputtered softly as the song continued, crackling around him in comforting static. Alastor didn’t care. He didn’t need it fixed tonight. He was perfectly content to let the tunes fill the room, let the shadows and light play across the walls as he danced alone, humming, smiling, utterly alive in his private world.
By the time the song faded, he had twirled back to the center of the room, chest rising and falling with calm, satisfied breaths. His antlers shimmered faintly under the lamp glow, coat tails settling neatly around him. He let out a soft sigh, the only sound besides the faint hiss of the radio’s dying static.
“…It has been a long time,” he murmured to himself, voice low, almost tender. His grin softened into something rare, gentle, and entirely his own. “…Indeed.”
Alastor perched back on the edge of the bed, still humming the last lines quietly, letting the warmth of music linger around him. For once, the late hour wasn’t about hunger, chaos, or mischief—it was about a private, quiet happiness, the kind only a demon and his radio could understand.
And in that moment, even the shadows seemed to lean in closer, listening.