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Friends wasn’t the right word.
They’d been talking for several years now. The two Overlords were alike in many ways. Alastor showed up with the most raw power that anyone had ever seen. What Vox lacked in such power, he made up for in charisma and his ability to make connections anywhere. They had what the other one needed, like two puzzle pieces of a childish heart locket. Even their powers were so similar by nature that they could play off of or completely cancel out each other. Because of that, Alastor was Vox’s supervisor for a time when he was being considered as one of the sovereign overlords.
Alastor loved to see Vox grow and discover more of his powers. It helped him figure out more about himself along the way. A mentor and mentee seemed like the better frame for what they had going on, but even that didn’t feel like it captured their dynamic in neat strokes. It wasn’t romantic either, at least to Alastor, or even akin to a business partner. At some point, he completely gave up on trying to figure it out beyond how Carmilla referred to their arrangement. All that mattered is that they were benefiting each other.
Entertainment. Education. Enlightenment. The closest thing to a friend that Alastor dared to get without committing to all those expectations and niceties of a relationship. All he was expected to do is make sure Vox learned and grew into a candidate for the exclusive overlord group, which was coming along quite nicely and naturally. Given enough time, they might even end up on the same playing field. That was exciting!
They were at the bar, going over a checklist of things that Carmilla wanted them to review before the next meeting.
-Gain your first soul
-Make a deal
-memorize the districts of pentagram city
-memorize the sovereign overlords and their territories
-agree to the sovereign code of conduct
-claim your own territory
The list went on, a checkmark going down next to every one of them. Goals that were expected to take years only being small monthly hurdles for this young promising media overlord. He already owned territory in the entertainment district and was making up plans for a tower to erect at the center of it.
“It looks like you’ve earned your place! I’ll drink to that.” Alastor grinned, a true turn to his lips, and raised his glass.
“It was a lot of hard work…and I had a great person to guide me. Seriously! I’m not just brushing up your feathers, I really mean it!” Vox took his own glass and they clinked them together. The toast rang through the bar, earning some claps and hollers from others around them. A spirit of accomplishment and celebration was in the house tonight. An infectious feeling that took away the limitations on drinks and merriment. Except for Alastor, who preferred to reel himself in at a couple shots for his own sake.
Although this was Vox’s night to bask in his accomplishments, he couldn’t stop redirecting the praise to the one who got him here in the first place. Alastor was the one who took an interest in him, brought him to the Sovereigns, agreed to guide his potential. The Radio Demon was so powerful and charming, everything Vox wanted to be, terrifying, respectable, unapologetic, free and wild. His compliments never had chains on them and were always grounded in undeniable fact. Facts that made Alastor glow every time he heard them. Not once did they feel like they went too far, not even after a solid 45 minutes of Vox scraping the bottom of his mental barrel to still find delightful truths to spill.
But the drinks let him reach further than that. Right down into the dirt that he always tried so hard to keep covered.
“You’re so…inspiring.” The sentence still rings in Alastor’s mind as the moment that night took a terrifying turn. The alcohol pumping in those biomechanical veins muddled away the lines that Vox never let himself cross. Sure he was always a little handsy and never ran out of sweet nothings to say, but something about this was different. The Radio Demon’s red eyes darted down to see those blue claws gingerly encasing his own dainty hands. The tone felt different. Not just admiration, but something deeper.
“Oh, please.” Alastor tugs his hand away, “You’ve had too many drinks. I know it’s our night to celebrate your progress, but-”
“My progress?” Vox leaned in uncomfortably close, his pupils turning into pixelated hearts as he grabbed and massaged the other’s shoulders. A blue blush danced across his screen. “No, no, no! You’re the real hero of the night! My hero…my…” He stuttered, looking for the right word to say. Or perhaps pick just one of a dozen adjectives that flooded his mind.
Alastor popped his hands off with a cartoonish sound effect. “You have highlighted me enough tonight, dear. And while I do appreciate the kind words, more aren’t necessary. Sometimes less is better!”
“But-!” Vox suddenly stood up and cupped his hands on Alastor’s cheeks; something he had never done, not even in his worst drunken state. The blush brightened. His antennae flopped to the side. Red drool flashed in the corner of his mouth. “You’re my inspiration. You don’t understand how much I want to be like you. How much I…want…you…” His grip tightened with every word until his claws began to pierce into the skin of Alastor’s cheeks.
Emotions that Alastor didn’t even know he had stirred up inside his core. Confusion. Betrayal. Fear. He swore he was beyond those petty things…and here he is letting someone else get too close again. Close enough to rip those feelings back out of the depths they were buried. “Let’s…sit back down and have one more round before we go, alright?” Alastor gently grabbed his hands to pull them away, but they stayed latched to his face. All the while Vox leaned in closer. His head cocked sideways, a thumb brushing over the skin, and the familiar spirals pulsing in his hypnotic eye.
“No…I want you to know just how much you mean to me. You made me who I am.”
Alastor’s breath hitched and he chuckled nervously. “No, you made you who you are. I simply guided you! It’s not that deep!”
“What did you say?” Vox’s voice dropped an octave. His screen darkened.
“I said it’s not that deep! Stop being oh so dramatic!” Alastor laughed off his nerves and grabbed tightly onto Vox’s wrists.
But he couldn’t pull. He couldn’t move.
The pressure of Vox’s powers pressed against his mind. The edges of the world fuzzed out into nothingness. “You are important. I need you. And I want you to understand just how much I appreciate you. You. Are. My. Everything.”
The claws dug deeper, making Alastor whine softly in his throat. His arms went limp at his sides, his body slouched on itself in the barstool. No amount of wanting to move or will his body into action could earn so much as a twitch. What was this? What should he do? What can he do? A feeling so raw and primal grew in the pit of his stomach. A deep-rooted fear of exactly what stared him in the eyes. Someone who could take his power away. Take his control away. Take a part of his life away that he could never get back. He was no stranger to people taking pieces of him for themselves. Using him for their own needs, however benevolent they may disguise it as.
“L-Listen to me dear,” Alastor failed to steady his voice. It wavered between adrenaline-laden breaths, “We’ve both had a very o-overstimulating night. Why don’t we go ahead and go- go home- Before we get too wobbly? It’s not safe to have your wits so muddled on such a dark hell-night!”
Vox tilted his head the opposite direction. His grin widened. “Go home? Us?” He leaned in more, the pressure intensifying to the point that Alastor almost dizzied out of reality.
“Yes yes yes yes yes-!” His voice came out barely in control, his eyes floating back in faint spirals, “We will go home, be safe, and sleep on all this riveting stuff! Imagine the dreams we shall have!”
“The dreams…us…” Vox retracted his hands and grabbed his own screen like he could tuck hair behind ears that he didn’t have. “Oh…us…how nice hmhmhm~” His voice slurred into different strings of incoherent words. Alastor quietly thanked God when he could feel his own hands and flex them again.
“That’s right! Yes! Very VERY nice little dreams of…us…!” Alastor played along with a few chuckles, gripping at his hair from the distress. Eyes darting around. There was only one door out of this place. He immediately stood up and nearly fell again. Vox caught him as he almost hit the bar counter.
“Are you okay, love?” Vox asked. Leaned in. Those spirals pressed on his mind again, weakening his knees.
“Yes! Yes, I’m fine!” Alastor was quick to pat Vox on the head and twirl a sparking antenna between his fingers. The simple gesture that was supposed to bring ease instead caused Vox to grip tighter. More possessively. They were not leaving that door alone.
“Then let’s go…together.” A shock arched between Vox’s screen and Alastor’s forehead. An electric kiss of a sort. One step. Two step. Alastor’s legs moved under the influence of the other man’s power, forcing their strides to match as they left the bar. Normally they would part ways here since Cannibal Town and the Entertainment District were in opposite directions, but his path tugged to follow Vox. Cannibal Town getting further behind them. No amount of pulling away or fighting for control could make his body go any other way.
“Wh-What are we doing, darling?” Alastor’s throat felt dry. Poorly masking up his nerves.
“You said we were going home, and home is this way.”
“I mean we as in- each person going separately to their own home…” Alastor’s voice cut off into a groan when Vox shocked his hand. A glowing smirk spreading on that otherwise innocent face. There was a reason this unassuming box was being considered as a sovereign.
“I’m not stupid,” Vox chuckled as if the other man needed the reminder, “Your heart rate elevated. Your face is redder than usual. You were fond of the idea of…us…” A cable slipped out of Vox’s back, gently pulling Alastor’s face to meet his screen by the jaw. “...The great Radio Demon isn’t afraid of anyone, right? So if it’s not fear, then what is it? Love? Love that you’re denying, sweetheart~?”
That’s right. The Radio Demon didn’t fear anyone. But he also didn’t love anyone. That was the ground rule he set for himself precisely to not be caught up in situations like this. He was only being controlled because he let his guard down…and once he got it back, this whole situation would be an unpleasant reminder of why that rule was laid to begin with. “I’m just…tired, is all.” Alastor danced around his words, glancing back, “I will walk you home because it’s dangerous at night, but then I need to get back to Cannibal Town.”
“We can go to your place, then. I can stay wherever I want to…and I’ll be happy as long as it’s with you.” Vox kiss-shocked him again, the arc touching just at the corner of his smile. At least now they were walking the other way. That alone brought some relief. Once they got back, they’d be on Alastor’s playing field.
They held hands and continued along as Vox wanted them to. Not as a man with a one-sided obsession with someone who wanted to be on the other side of Hell, but as two lovers who were synced in every way. It was disgusting. Terrifying. Vox’s usual compliments and sweet talk blurred into the background as Alastor dissociated into his own thoughts and the pleasant buzz of hypnotic powers. The Cannibal Town signs being the only thing keeping his consciousness attached to his body.
Welcome to Cannibal Town.
Alastor suddenly snapped to his senses, knowing his house was nearby. It wasn’t much, just a small radio tower in the heart of the quaint town. Everyone was in bed by now, only a handful of lights radiating through windows. As soon as they got to the tower, Alastor felt some control come back to his body. He managed to manifest his key in his hand, but his shaking grip fumbled it to the ground.
“Here, let me get it.” Vox smiled warmly, hearts still in his eyes as he leaned down to pick it up. He handed it back to Alastor, who was struggling to get it in the hole. Metal clicking on metal. Nerves too uncontrolled to even open his own door. This was pathetic. “Are you okay? Do you need help?” The other man leaned in.
“No, I-I’ve got it!” Alastor panicked when he felt the hypnotic pressure squeeze on his mind again. In one quick motion, he slipped inside and slammed the door shut. Their line of sight broke. The pressure gone. He fell back against the door and nearly cried. The nightmare was over.
At least the hard part. “Alastor?” a small, concerned voice echoed through the door. “Are you going to let me in?”
Alastor stuttered. Buffered on his own words like a scratched vinyl. “I…I really need time to myself, Vox. Have a good night. I’ll see you at the meeting.”
“I thought you didn’t want me walking alone–?”
“You’re a strong overlord that exceeds all expectations. You can handle yourself, can’t you?”
And there was no more words exchanged that night. No more presence. No more fear. Alastor never figured out if Vox forgot that night or simply chose not to bring it up, but the whole thing died down into a forgettable past. Things continued between them like normal.
Except Alastor wouldn’t make the same mistake again. Vox was to be kept at arm’s length. In touch, but not too cushy and close. His cute face and sweet words couldn’t be trusted. That secret little obsession would be nothing more than an emotion to be manipulated when the time was right.
“You’re inspiring.”
Became the words that signaled a threat.