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God forbid someone shows this pathetic picture box even a pinch of pity- for Alastor began to regret doing so, each time he could feel the frequencies of Vox’s presence nearby. Always asking the same thing. Again and again, and again.
“Alastor! Let’s grab a drink!” A friendly invitation- politely declined. The response was simply a courteous upturn of the mouth and a “Not today, dear!” lest there be any consistent listeners checking their watches for the delay of his radio broadcast. Not to say that Alastor wanted to dismiss him without thought, but when duties must be prioritized, the leisure of surrounding oneself with pleasant acquaintances could wait.
Then again. Attempting to finalize an important decision with Rosie about which accompaniment would work best with starters for her tea-party next weekend.
“Heyyy….Al! About that drink-” Politely declined. Again.
“Busy.”
Then again.
“Ah, Alastor, there you are! Can yo-”
“Can’t”
And again.
“Alas-”
“Not today.”
And Again.
“Heeeyyyyyyy Alasstorrrr!!....”
The one whose name had been called out far too many times that week to count , gritted his teeth before spitting out a sharp response
“Enough!”
Clearly, a ‘polite decline of a friendly little invitation’ wouldn’t be of any use in front of such a socially oblivious abomination- perhaps it was some kind of unknown manipulation tactic yet to be discovered by Alastor. Begging for a hangout like a lost puppy… surely, it must be more humiliating than effective…
“I’ll agree to one drink. Now stop pestering me!” The supposedly unexpected outburst and harsh weight on the ‘P’ spawned the expected instinct of a sheepish tremble from Vox, resembling that of a young schoolboy sweating in front of his girlfriend’s father.
“Ah, Sorry, bud! I-I, well, uh, I didn’t realize-”
Futile apologies of civility were cut by the latter’s commands to emphasize their unimportance.
“Saturday. Husker’s casino. Don’t be late.”
The cables and currents in Vox’s head worked like an overworked human heart and veins, flowing ink on an imaginary notepad to ensure not a single need for The Radio Demon to repeat even a syllable of instructions. His eyes on the other hand, stared intense and dumbfoundedly; almost as though staring any harder could get Alastor to confirm the words he had just spoken.
“S-satur…day? B-but, but- that’s…that’s….” It was best that Vox didn’t bother raising his dubiety, besides, he was in no position to complain after all the hassle he had put Alastor through.
“Oh.”
…
“OH!”
Alastor raised a questioning yet irritated brow at the unnecessary repeat of sound.
“Oh- Uh, yeah, okay- uhm, See-you-then,-bye!”
…
…
The air had cooled down and a soft silence of nothing but the gentle bustling of the breeze allowed Alastor to exhale slowly in the surrounding serenity.
“I like him!”
And of course, that so-called silence and serenity was merely a fantasy concept submerged in only the corners of Alastor’s deepest dreams.
Alastor buried a hand into his face and neither shaking his head nor the long and genuine sigh he’d let out were enough to convey his exasperation.
“You have a peculiar taste, my dear…”
Niffty sat upon Alastor’s shoulder like a monstrous familiar, eyeballing Vox’s geeky scamper from a distance.
“Can I stab the bad boy after your date?”
“Hah! I hardly think he qualifies as a ‘bad bo-’”
A melodramatic pause had personally blocked Alastor’s mockery - like the sudden microphone drop on a radio.
“Date?”
Utterly astonished eyes crossed opposite ways frivolously before the burst of a sharp shriek of laughter to which Niffty couldn’t help but contribute to.
The cackling calmed down, and Alastor adjusted his monocle after cartoonishly wiping a tear from his eye.
“Ahh, I needed that”
Niffty was then lifted from Alastor’s shoulder and the excitement immediately jolted to her feet to jump up and down as soon as they’d touched the floor.
Had it been anyone else, the next and last thing they’d have heard would have been the screams and squeals being plucked out and torn through their vocal chords.
“Now, where’d you get that preposterous idea?”
Fortunately for Niffty, she was Niffty; Alastor simply spoke with underlying amusement for a matter that caused him irritation.
“You asked him out for valentines!”
Oh, that Niffty! She truly knew how to mend even the most detestable of occurrences into the opportunity for a jest!
“Hah! Surely, not!”
A scroll from Alastor’s shadows obediently appeared to assist with the disapproval-
“Of all the- hah!- Valentines?”
“Absurd!”
“There’s no way!”
“I didn't-!"
-Only to speak truths that weren’t in his favor.
“Ah.”
The wretched figure ‘14’ aligned perfectly and in symmetrical order to the column consisting of ‘Saturday’ even after multiple scans; refusing to squish up to maybe a Friday, or perhaps swap places with its lovely neighbour Sunday. The stubborn number simply would not budge its arms or legs to accommodate Alastor's sloppy organization.
Of course, in no world or universe would this man even possibly imagine admitting that; just perchance, just potentially, could he ever make the human monstrosity of a mistake; even if he were held at gunpoint- he’d gladly rather ask to pull the trigger.
So, of course-
“Fuck… did he trick me?!”
-He did nothing but contemplate the rather flustering atrocity of a situation. Clearly, this was not meant to be regarded as a ‘date’ or anything of that matter- it was merely a coincidence that they’d decided to arrange a friendly little outing between acquaintances on this very day. On Valentines day. Ah, Yes, that was it…
“Can I dress you up for your daaaate?”
The high pitched voice crept from the floor and sucked Alastor out of his thoughts, but the sing-songy sparkle she’d coated on the forbidden word made him tense as if it were like calling ‘Macbeth’ in a theatre.
“It is not a date!”
…
Ah, fuck…
Just like that, not a minute had gone by before Niffty’s face was stuffed with sad sniffles and Alastor watched as glassy tears were forming from her singular, despondent gaze ; and red corners of her mouth continued to sink further downturned- leaving him unadjusted to how the expression was suddenly no longer whimsical and beaming foolishly.
“No…dress up?” The despairing hum let out from the girl certainly did not help with the situation in the slightest.
“No! No,no, dear- no tears! You know I can't resist a lady…- Ugh, fine!”
With that, the unexpected miracle occurred that Niffty’s teardrops had dried down and disappeared as though Alastor’s words of confirmation had just closed the faucets tight.
“Still not a date!”
Anyone would be left astonished to witness what improper state someone like the well-mannered Radio Demon himself had allowed himself to sit in his room in. He’d been digging and digging and digging through the bottomless pit of his wardrobe for something suitable to wear.
His shadow offered to assist, hesitantly handing him a chocolate brown waistcoat with delicate baby pink embroidered roses, neatly hung up on the hanger.
Alastor took the waistcoat to inspect it for a moment, only to kiss his teeth and push the suggestion aside disapprovingly.
“Ah, I can't wear that… I wore it only last week when I took Vox to see Rosie's emporium.”
His shadow nodded in immediate response, wasting not even a second to generate another item of clothing for Alastor’s awaiting judgement.
A simple red button up shirt with the same shade of trousers to match
“Oh, don't be ridiculous, I literally wore that at home the other day.”
Shadow shrugged his shoulders with a nonchalance that made Alastor furrow his eyebrows
“Meaning, that it's not appropriate to be worn outside!”
Again, a nod and a moment to switch the options as though this were some kids’ dress-up game.
He needn't less than a minute to scrutinize the next piece before coming to an instant evaluation-
“You absolute buffoon! That is literally Vox’s jacket that he lent me- which now that you've reminded me, I must return- and secondly that navy blue jacket and those burgundy, velvet pants are criminal to be pairing in itself! Shame on you, I'd better do this on my own!”
A silent, disheartened whimper vibrated through the walls, and Shadow sunk to the seclusion of gliding through the walls, and into the concealed corner of the room.
Meanwhile, Alastor only continued to build an abstract yet in a way, surrealistic landscape of mountains, in his very room, almost as though to challenge the art of Salvador Dali himself. And for his artistic techniques, he laid no hands on paints, or clay, or such, but his bare judgmental conclusions and the infinity of clothes in the wardrobe.
“Perhaps I could wear this red striped suit with hearts on both sides of the lapels? Tsk, no, it's much too similar to what I usually wear, besides, the material on the hearts look disgustingly tacky.”
“Hm, I suppose I could wear this pink one instead … but it's ever so itchy, i wouldn't want to sit awkwardly in public, now.
“Oh, there's this white cropped jacket with exquisite golden and coral colored embroidery! Though, I don't suppose I have anything that complements- my white trousers would work with this but they're in the wash, what do you think? ”
Alastor turned to present the treasure he'd worked ever so hard to pick from the pile, only for his shadow not to be seen despite the multiple light sources and candles nearby.
“Shadow?”
The 180° turn had now become a full circle, and Alastor only rolled his eyes.
“Fine, then. Honestly, what a baby that creature can be….”
Tearing his gaze from the pile of clothes he was sat in, Alastor turned his head and stared at his reflection in the mirror, holding up each jacket to compare which looked best, only to analyze that the entire thing was pulling a push door.
The elephant in the room at last, was addressed by Alastor himself.
“I have nothing to wear!!!!!!”
Once the obvious was explicitly announced, Alastor felt as though he couldn't do much for the situation other than to bury his face helplessly in his clothes for a few moments.
...
“Alaaasstoorrr! Can I dress you up for the date now?”
A few fabrics were tossed into the air when Alastor shot his head up and faced the familiar voice who he'd previously disregarded.
“Niffty? Dear, what are you- Oh! Ah, yes! You're here to-”
“- dress you up for your date with Mr TV guy!”
“Er- yes-, I suppose you truly are here to help me. Now; tell me, dear, should I wear this coat or this-”
Alastor rummaged through the pile to pick out the previous shirts and jackets he'd assessed, only to lower them the way his shadow did, when Niffty interrupted.
“I've got your outfit!”
“You have!?”
“Yeah!”
Cartoonishly enough, Niffty acquired the ability to pull out all of the clothes folded politely - (and respectively to Alastor's clothes; contrast to the ironically eyesore condition Alastor had left the rest of his own in) -from a petite black drawstring bag from her shoulder.
Without question, Alastor gently brought his hands to unfold the rectangular, parallel pile; as though unwrapping a present decorated so carefully that ripping the paper would feel like ruining the present itself.
The jet black velvet was unsurprisingly soft as Alastor's fingertips danced along the surface ; sinking effortlessly into the fabric, and savoring the familiar touch that somewhat resembled his favorite pillowcase.
“Try it on! Try it on!” Niffty, as usual, bounced but this time with an extraordinary excitement that was released with an experience of something she'd been longing to have.
“Alright, alright! Get out of here!” Alastor couldn't do much but laugh at the menacing- yet, adorable and rather considerate little creature as he shooed her away and shut the door.
Ten minutes. Fifteen. An hour- or maybe two; how long had Niffty really been waiting? She flooded through the tiniest gap of the door barely opening- oh wait- it had only been two minutes.
Nevertheless, the terribly tedious two minute wait had paid well when she gazed at her friend, who adjusted himself in the mirror.
And while doing so, Alastor examined the silhouette of the suit on him, and realized that the familiar fabric brought upon him an unspoken sense of nostalgia that didn't occur to him at first; but was now aiming to address it.
“Niffty, my dear, I couldn't help but notice that these fabulous clothes you've acquired for me seem to be rather similar to something I think I might have owned?”
“Oh yeah! It is! Remember that plain black suit you got a while back?”
(About a year ago for ‘casual everyday wear’)
“And you never wore it cuz you're always wearing that red thing?”-
Memories of the rather old, and miniature shop filled his mind- oh, yes; Alastor was passing by the fringes of cannibal town, and came across a distinct shop of a Victorian gothic style. The clothing was not quite that of his daily attire, yet he found the eye-catching designs to lure him in, and what harm was there in taking a look?
The shop displayed a variety of clothing- mostly in darker shades of wood brown, purple, navy, blood reds , and blacks; while being draped in white lace and ruffles.
Alastor, choosing to be responsible with Rosie's his money, came to the sagacious conclusion that a simple black velvet suit would become well-worn through his sempiternal days in hell.
And foreseeably, once folded, placed, and greeted by the rest of Alastor's God knows how many clothes, it had become deprived of hell’s ominous sunlight till this very day.
“Ah, yes! I remember! But it looks so-”
“I borrowed it from you to make some adjustments! Do you like it-you like it,right? Pleeeaassee tell me you like it!”
Alastor scrutinized himself in the mirror- playing spot the difference between what he could see in his antique mirror and what he could remember.
Niffty had added red velvet on the lapels and cuffs, that color-matched almost immaculately to the lining on the inside. The old, regular black buttons had morphed into heart shapes along with other heart shaped accents that though ,annoyingly, accommodated too much to the Valentines theme to Alastor's liking, he could not say they weren't as lovable as they looked when added on by Niffty herself.
The trousers that were once solid color, had been embroidered with such meticulous refinement that was beyond expectation of human hands; thin stripes of red complementing the top half of the outfit with a red-rose brooch on the side for finishing touches.
Niffty, meanwhile, waited for a response with building tension like a chef watching their dish be assessed by a judge.
“I love it.”
“Really?”
“Really. You've truly outdone yourself, dear- thank you.”
“Yippeeeeeekkkk!!!! Can I do your hair now??”
“My hair? Well- I don't really need- Oh, alright I suppose.”
Expecting the texture of a hairbrush against his scalp, Alastor closed his eyes for a moment- only to see a curling iron in the mirror upon opening.
But he didn't object, for she seemed so happy. Besides, why not.
Vox was bouncing his leg on the stool, and the hands on his watch didn't change significantly from when he'd checked it 30 seconds ago…
With the unneeded guidance of his assistant, Ethan, he'd made the decision that his usual attire would appear most suitable for the occasion, with a few adjustments- swapping out his more professional tie for a cute red bow, and assuming that Alastor never surrenders his red suit, why not match with a red sweater-vest as well?
“Are you gonna order? Cuz if not then get the fuck out.” Husk’s raspy threat was as sharp as a knife- cutting Vox from his thoughts and from twiddling his fingers nervously, only to wave his hands in defiance.
“No,no waaiittt ! Just give it a minute, he’ll be here soon…”
Husker scoffed in disbelief “Wouldn’t be surprised if this ‘he’ left ya hanging!”
“Hey! Don't say that-Oh!” A strong static of frequencies were sensed and built up between Vox's antennae like two magnets getting closer and closer.
‘That’s….”
“See! He's here! Ala-”
Alastor walked through the door- oddly enough; noticeably more timid than usual.
Their eyes met.
“-stor…”
Vox, who once stood up agog to greet his friend, failed to do so upon leaning dumbfounded oh against the counter- riveted, and couldn't help but stare spellbound at the flattering attire he thought to himself, should wear more often.
And without notice, it appeared that he had left Alastor to be the one to show common courtesy of walking over and saying hello- Vox’s gazing was in a second, snapped by the sound of steps from red heels.
Of course, neither of them could greet like regular people, nor did they really do ‘regular people’ things…and having Vox’s eyes smothered all over him did not come across as so.
Alastor adjusted his hair that needed no adjustments. Ironic, for him who is usually the more confident one of the two; averted his bright eyes, almost as bright as the hue on Vox's face.
“What?”
…
“It's…it's too much isn't it?”
Alastor mumbled softly, waiting for a reply only for Vox to continue savouring what he could see with half-lidded eyes and a smile that was almost sweet enough to compare with the box of candied fingers he'd bought him that sat on the counter.
“No! No, no….”
His voice matched the one that Alastor spoke with shyly, only, more reassuring and awestruck.
“It's- you look-!”
…
“Y-you're everything…”
The crimson on Alastor's face had not gone unnoticed after how well Vox scanned him head to toe, and certainly, there must have been a reason Niffty skipped the blush when applying his makeup.
“Tsk- shut up!”
…
Alastor, for some purpose, took off his perfectly placed rose brooch- and placed another step forward, closing the space between them.
Vox’s eyes moved to the hand that was placed on his chest, and immediately felt his internal fans cooling his head down- yet almost failing to do so when Alastor hushed quietly, with their warm faces nearby.
“You…Red looks good on you.”
Vox touched where the unspoken gift of shared amiability had been placed between his quirky bow-tie and red heart-shaped button.
“Yeah? Thanks, Al!”
Alastor was unsure whether the cause of his ruffled demeanour was due to the pesky resemblance in matching hearts in their outfits, or the utterly adorable stupid simper Vox was giving him. Nevertheless, both causes left him to turn his head away in meaningless frustration.
“Shut up and get me a drink!”
Vox raised a brow
“Uh, okay! Sazerac, right?”
And he’d pronounced it correctly this time.
Surely, Vox made sure to be doing nothing but make the situation worse for Alastor.
The two finally sat together by the counter that a flabbergasted Husker had been watching them dilly-dally around for so long. He was sure he had witnessed plenty of strange occurrences throughout his days of bartending; and the oh so great and intimidating Alastor- dolled up, all frivolous and flustered for a pitiful loser-y-wimp was something Husk was not ever expecting to see.
Empty glasses - (some still half-full with melted ice) -hoarded their wooden countertop. Soft sounds of jazz and piano could be heard in the ambience as they both sat sloppy in their seats with breathless laughs ; no idea of the clock spinning as they’d spent the hours chattering their mouths off, dancing to whatever recognizable melodies of music that were played, and cracking up at every awful joke- which was not so awful when in pleasant company.
Vox buried his overheating screen into his hands- leaving palm prints as he squealed at the remembrance of Alastor’s words
“Red…looks good on you…”
OhmygodOhmygodOhmygod-
Alastor’s color? HIS color looks good on me???
The shark plush on his bed, though unalive, seemed as though it was practically begging to be let go for how tightly Vox hugged him whilst rolling ecstatically on his bed like a young teenager in love.
He was blushing!!!
So possessive!
Sooo cuuttteee!!!!
His hair-
His eyes-
His- Ahhhh!! his everythinggggg!!!!!
Alastor did not find himself to be quite the romantical man. Nor did he find much entertainment in such endeavors. Must he remind himself, it was merely a coincidence that this date hangout- which Vox only, had been begging for- just so happened to happen on Valentines Day.
In fact, Alastor did not find any enjoyment on this day with the silly box at all! Yes- that’s true!
He clenched his sharp teeth on the poor victim that was his faithful pillow ; furrowing his eyebrows as he gnawed on the case.
It was so pathetic of him to beg, and beg, and beg for Alastor to hang out with him- and suppose even if it was a ‘date’? What a dirty trick.
Honestly, Vox was not more than a creep to be staring at Alastor like that- like- like… with his stupid… cute smile… Doesn't he know? Alastor is the smiley one here.
And- and the way that picture box had been clinging to him all night- the way that his fingertips brushed against his when handing his drink; the way he shuffled his stool closer or the way he leant his side against Alastor’s shoulder-
Or the way he spoke in that annoyingly affectionate voice- so sweet it sounded like it had been coated in honey-
“Y-you’re…You’re everything…”
The silent echo triggered him to tear off the fabric- wasting no time in smothering his face to muffle a discombobulated bleat in the same pillow.
Alastor’s shadow resurfaced from hiding- only to sneer playfully upon watching him kick his legs in frustration- too, like a young teenager in love.