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Vox is, and always will be, Val's bright spot, literally and figuratively.
The glow of Vox's screen cutting through the darkness of the club they met at had awoken something in Val, had made him feel whole for the first time in decades, decades spent surviving under pimps, surviving on scraps, surviving the streets. He hadn't seen such a lovely blue in years amid all the reds of Pride. It had amazed him how no one else was entranced by the glowing face, the rarest color in the Pride ring.
He'd known before they'd even talked to one another that he was made to find this person, that Vox was important to Val’s afterlife in a way he couldn't explain.
And he had been right.
Vox was full with all of his ideas and ambition, glowing brighter in his excitement of his plans for the future, plans he started including Val in relatively quickly.
And Val basked in his light, brighter than the stars in the skies above.
Vox was, and still is, the center of Val's life, like Val can't help but be in Vox's orbit, like Vox has some gravitational pull to him. Other sinners are entranced by his hypnosis, but no one is as entranced as the one person he can't control.
Vox keeps him warm.
On Val's coldest days, or days he doesn't feel good about his body or days he's just tired, Vox will hold him. Val will soak in his warmth like a flower needs the sun, will luxuriate in the feeling of being cradled against his favorite person. Sharp claws will card through his fluff or hold his face tenderly.
In those moments Val forgets why he was ever cold, or tired of upset with his body in the first place.
Vox gives him energy, Vox gives him purpose, Vox gives him a platform to perform on, Vox helps him flourish.
Decades spent together building their empire.
Vox could have done it on his own, he had the ambition from the get go, but he wanted Val with him on the journey.
Why would he want a whore beside him?
Even after all this time, Val can't figure out what Vox saw in him, what potential he apparently had hiding under his running mascara and shiny mini skirts.
But he's grateful.
Grateful for this wonderful life at the top of the hierarchy, only rivaled by Hell's royalty.
And how do you repay the sun for all it has given you?
Val is my world, Vox thinks.
His muse, so beautiful in his potential, so delicate and fragile in those early days. He only needs a little help to get started.
And Vox gave him that help, helped him escape his pimp and his life in the shadows, gave him the tools and time to grow, and now spins Val in dances bathed by the glow of his screen, watching as Val brightens under his attention, like flowers blooming in spring.
“I owe you,” Val says during a dance, head resting against the top of Vox's screen.
It's unsaid what Val thinks he owes Vox for, but Vox knows by the tone of voice. Val has brought it up before, the feeling that this life Vox has helped him achieve is something he'll never be able to repay.
But he's given Vox everything he's always wanted- someone who stays, someone with loyalty, someone who lets themselves be loved and loves back in return. And to find that in the most beautiful person is just the cherry on top.
“You owe me nothing,” Vox whispers back, spinning Val out and back into his arms then into a dip.
And look what happens with a love like that.
Val's cheeks warm, a rare blush lighting his face pink, like the most beautiful sunrise is on display for only Vox.
And Val knows that he'll stay in Vox's orbit for a long, long time.