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Contrary to popular belief, the opposite of love is not hate.
Vox had been thinking about this proposal for hours; it had come to him that very day, and deep down he knew that putting it off would only make him grow more cowardly later on.
When one adores another, one does not even feel the pain of humiliating oneself, and Vox found it natural to express his thoughts toward Alastor. More than once he asked himself, “What would Alastor do in this moment?” or “What would Alastor like?”, so that his actions became focused on falling under the grace of the radio demon. To be seen by his idol. His inspiration.
One sip of whisky, and he would let out everything he had been thinking.
They could be great, they could be greedy and unafraid of the limits of the beyond, for they would find barriers and break them together. Vox even wondered whether Alastor would ever let him take part in his radio show. As for him, he would not hesitate to invite Alastor onto one of his own programs. As a way to grow mutually, and of course—who, then, would deny them control of the media as a duo?
And Alastor listened to his proposal. He—so smiling and false at the same time. Direct and elusive. Happy and irate. He took a long drink and seemed to think it over for a second; anxiety devoured Vox, without him knowing that this second would be the only good one.
“Meh, no, I’ll pass. I’ll have better opportunities on my own,” he concluded, leaving the payment behind and standing up.
Vox stared at his face in disbelief, one of the few times Alastor did not keep a tense expression, but instead wore a faint smile. Disinterested.
“E-eh… wait, seriously?” he got up quickly from his seat to go after him “I-I thought you’d be interested in teaming up with a friend!”
The words came out of his monitors with a slight distortion as nervousness rose, his face feeling warm with embarrassment. Only then did Alastor stop at the door of the establishment and glance back over his shoulder.
“You know, Vincent?” he turned around to look at him directly “I hadn’t thought you were this pathetic until now. I haven’t seen such humiliation since the Fatty Arbuckle scandal!”
Canned laughter plays.
“Uh, I-I think that… it’s an idea you should think over more carefully.”
Rejection had never hurt him; in fact, it had always been the fuel for his ambition. If a door was closed to him, he would break it down until it opened. Alastor standing there in front of him looked far more like a wall.
Vox insisted “it would benefit you greatly when it comes to-”
Alastor sighed.
“Whatever—partners, friends, whatever keeps you satisfied,” he waved a hand dismissively before vanishing, blending into his shadow.
Had he really left, dismissing his ideas so casually? Vox felt like a child being told what he wanted to hear just to make him stop bothering.
Was that all?