this esteemed sir is a god.

Years —decades, nearly a century— had passed since they stopped being friends. Since the bond between them had twisted further and further until it finally broke. But Vox never disappeared. He never let go of him. He didn’t stay away. He remained part of his life, this time as his enemy, because he couldn’t stand rejection. He couldn’t accept a “no.”

Alastor had to break their deal by force. He decided that if Vox wouldn’t break the contract willingly, then he would break it himself, because he couldn’t stand being bound to Vox any longer. And even after that, Vox remained. Year after year, he faced him, blaming him for everything that had happened between them, painting him as the villain, as if he had been the one responsible for their relationship falling apart.

And that was what Alastor hated most. He hated that Vox thought it had all been his fault. He hated that Vox pretended he hadn’t hurt him. He hated his personality. He hated his laugh. He hated the way he spoke, like everything was a game to him. He hated how he could still remember his voice even when he wasn’t there. He hated his touch.

He hated everything about him.

“I hate you,” he murmured.

He crouched beside Vox’s motionless body and raised his hand.

“I hate you.”

He brought his hand down quickly and struck Vox’s face.

“You don’t know how much I hate you.”

Alastor hit him again, harder.

“You bastard.”

Another hit. Stronger.

“Son of a bitch.”

Another.

“The worst scum I’ve ever seen in Hell.”

His hits became more desperate, stronger, and faster, just as his voice filled more and more with static. The insults spilled out of him uncontrollably, growing increasingly cruel as he attacked Vox with all his strength. He didn’t stop. He couldn’t. He couldn’t control himself, nor regret it. Even though he knew he was dead. Even though he knew he couldn’t feel anything.

“I wish I had never met you, Vox.”

“Darling?”

Alastor turned around.

Rosie was there.

For a moment, he thought how absurd the situation was. He was kneeling in front of Vox’s ruined body, his hands stained with blood, breathing in sharp, uneven bursts, as if he were still fighting. He probably looked insane, beating Vox’s corpse even though he was already dead, shouting at him as if he could still hear him.

Rosie didn’t step back. She didn’t look scared. She simply approached Alastor carefully, as if trying not to startle him. She didn’t dare touch him at first. She just stood beside him, looking down at Vox’s body, frowning slightly.

“He’s dead,” Alastor said.

He felt something shift in his voice, but he didn’t pay any attention to it.

“I know, darling.”

“He’s dead for good this time,” he repeated, barely able to believe it. He had seen the angelic blade pierce Vox’s body and head, but he could hardly process the fact that it was real.

“Alastor...”

Rosie moved closer to him, careful not to frighten him. When she wrapped her arms around him gently, Alastor nearly lost the strength in his legs. He only stayed standing through sheer willpower. Rosie had seen him break down before. And he didn’t want to repeat that. Even though with her he felt safe.

Safe.

He felt a pain in his heart that almost threatened to suffocate him. Because once, he had felt safe with Vox. He believed he was his ally, his confident, his friend. His equal. He had believed there could be something more between them. That they could have had a deeper bond. Not friends, not lovers, but something in between. Something that belonged only to them. Something that didn’t need a name. And it would have been that way— if only Vox hadn’t done what he did. If only he hadn’t hurt him.

Alastor had trusted him. He had believed in Vox, and he allowed himself to lower his guard. To be his true self. He thought he was safe with Vox. He thought he could lower his defenses, that he didn’t have to pretend to be strong to earn a place at his side. He thought Vox was different from the rest of the demons.

And that was his stupidest mistake.

They danced together, laughed together, killed Overlords together. They shared tastes, ideas, ambition. They were equals. Two sides of the same coin. Vox was the first demon Alastor ever truly trusted. And Vox…

Vox turned that trust into a weapon.

All that time he was a manipulative bastard, a selfish man who only cared about himself, and Alastor was foolish enough to let himself be deceived.

The worst part wasn’t that he was selfish. Or that he was manipulative. They were in Hell— Alastor expected demons to be cruel. But Alastor truly believed Vox was something more than that. He truly believed he might find a friend. Someone to love, even if not in a romantic way, even if not in the way others did.

And Vox ruined it.

The worst part wasn’t that Vox was cruel. The worst part was that Alastor believed Vox would never be that way with him.

“Alastor, darling, it’s okay...”

Alastor blinked. He lifted his head slightly, and only then did he notice the tears falling from his eyes.

“He’s dead,” Rosie repeated, not letting go of him. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”

Alastor wanted to nod. He wanted to say he knew. He wanted to say out loud how much he hated Vox. But that wasn’t what left his lips.

“I loved him, Rosie,” Alastor’s fingers clenched the fabric of her dress, gripping it as if he needed something to keep himself from breaking apart. “He was my friend,” his voice cracked. “I… I thought he would be different.” He lowered his head.

“Alastor...”

“Al!” A different voice echoed in his mind, but he tried to ignore it.

“I want to hate him,” he tightened his grip on her dress. “I want to hate him, but…”

He swallowed.

“A part of me misses him. Misses what we were before the deal.”

Alastor felt Rosie’s hand gently stroking his back. “You can grieve him, Alastor. You can mourn what you lost.”

“Al, come on!” he heard that voice again, closer now, more desperate, but he kept ignoring it.

“I didn’t want it to end like this,” Alastor confessed quietly. “I didn’t want to lose him, but he… he…”

Alastor closed his eyes, unwilling to finish the sentence. He leaned into Rosie’s arms, and the tears he had been holding back finally fell.

“Open your eyes, Al!”

⋆ ═══════ ⋆★⋆ ═══════ ⋆

The moment he heard those words, Alastor opened his eyes. The change was immediate. He was no longer in the streets of Pentagram City. He was in a room he knew far too well. A room he hadn’t been in for a very long time. Decades.

He looked up, confused. He didn’t see Rosie in front of him. Only Vox. He was sitting beside him on the bed, his hands on his shoulders. Too close.

Concern was reflected in Vox’s eyes, and he saw his body tremble, as if he were afraid— but Alastor could barely process it. The only thing he could process was the fact that Vox was touching him. He pushed Vox away and got away from Vox, still on the bed, wrapping his arms around himself protectively.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Vox said quickly, holding his hands up in surrender. “It was just a nightmare, Al. Calm down.”

A… nightmare?

Alastor blinked, breathing unevenly, and looked around. He kept his arms wrapped around himself, still covering his chest. Vox’s room… was exactly as he remembered it. Exactly the same. The sheets were still blue, there was still a shark-shaped lamp on the bedside table, and there was a television on the dresser facing the bed.

Nothing had changed.

Nothing.

A chill ran down his spine.

What?

He looked back at Vox. And then he saw it. He didn’t have the flat-screen television for a head like in his nightmare. It was a CRT television instead— the same one he had seventy years ago. Seventy years ago? He tried to see the date on the television that was turned on, and he almost held his breath. 1970. The same year their relationship started to destabilize. The same year Vox began hurting him.

No.

No.

No.

Why am I here again?

What kind of sick joke is this?

Alastor didn’t think he could ever endure Vox hurting him again. It had taken him years —no, decades— to recover from his wounds, both physical and mental. It had taken him nearly a century to feel comfortable in his own body again, to stop feeling dirty. It had taken him a long time to tolerate being touched without trembling. He wasn’t sure he could go through all of it again.

A nightmare.

He looked back at Vox, who seemed uncomfortable, as if he wasn’t sure what to say or do. He opened his mouth a couple of times, but nothing came out. He only sighed and clenched his fists.

A nightmare.

Alastor pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, trying to process what was happening. Vox still didn’t seem angry at him, nor did he seem ready to hurt him. He didn’t seem dangerous. He had said… “It was just a nightmare.” What if it was true? What if it meant that everything that had happened —everything he remembered— was just a bad dream, a nightmare? What if none of it had ever been real?

Vox actually… hadn’t hurt him?

The thought churned his stomach.

“Vox…”

The reaction was immediate. Vox snapped his head up and took a step toward him, too fast.

“Yes?”

Alastor hesitated. Just for a second.

“Can you answer a question for me?”

“Yeah, of course, Al,” Vox took another step closer, more cautious than before. “Anything you want.”

Alastor stared at him.

“Have we… made a deal recently?”

Vox blinked.

Once.

Then again.

The silence that followed was unbearable.

Alastor stared at him, unreadable, even though there was a storm of emotions inside him.

Please say no.

Please say no.

Please say no.

“A deal?” Vox repeated.

Alastor almost felt relief seeing the confusion in Vox’s eyes. Only confusion. For a moment he thought everything might be okay. If Vox didn’t know they had made a deal, it would mean his nightmare had been just that: a nightmare. He allowed himself, for a second, to think he would be safe. That Vox and he wouldn’t have to stop being friends, that there was still time, that he hadn’t lost everything.

“Do you mean the deal where we agreed I’d do anything for you in exchange for you having sex with me once a year?”

The world stopped.

No.

With those words, his hope died.

No.

“Why are you asking me that?”

Please no.

“Did you forget?” Vox let out a short laugh, light, as if he genuinely didn’t understand the seriousness of what he was saying.

I can’t do this again.

“You should know there are a couple of days left before the year ends.”

No.

No.

No.

“Hey… does that question have something to do with your…?”

Alastor didn’t even realize Vox had gone silent. He didn’t even notice how his heart started beating faster, or how his body began to tremble.

He could only focus on the pain.

“Alastor?”

The betrayal he had felt when Vox crossed his boundaries.

The sadness of realizing even he wasn’t safe from Vox’s cruelty.

“Al?”

The pain of losing Vox as a friend.

The anger when Vox blamed him for breaking their friendship.

“Al!”

I can’t do this again.

I can’t.

I can’t.

I can’t.

“Al, listen to me!”

Alastor felt a chill when Vox touched him. Without realizing what he was doing, without realizing how his breathing had quickened, his body reacted before his mind did. He lunged at him.

Both of them fell to the ground, Alastor on top of Vox. Deep down, Alastor knew the story would repeat itself. And even if he couldn’t end it, even if he couldn’t prevent losing his relationship with Vox, he could hit him. He could try to make him feel even a fraction of the pain Vox had caused to him. Even if it had only been a nightmare, both in the dream and in reality the deal existed. And Alastor didn’t doubt —not even for a second— that Vox would hurt him again, this time in reality.

He raised a fist and struck his face hard. Vox reacted immediately, trying to defend himself, but Alastor shoved him back down, using his tentacles to pin his wrists. He needed him still. He couldn’t give him a chance to escape. To hurt him again.

“I hate you! I hate you, you bastard!” He hit him again. “Why do you have to be so damn selfish? Why couldn’t you accept my decision? Why did you have to force me? Why did you have to hurt me?” With every question, he struck Vox’s face harder.

Alastor kept hitting Vox until his hands started to hurt. Until his breathing became uneven. Until something shifted.

Suddenly, something shoved him. The world spun. And before he could react, their positions were reversed. Now Vox was on top of him, pinning him to the ground. His hands gripped his wrists tightly, keeping him still.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Alastor?” Vox frowned as he looked down at him. Irritation flashed in his eyes.

Alastor wanted to keep attacking him. He wanted to scream at him, hit him, make him suffer for what he had done. But the moment he was trapped beneath Vox, with anger burning in his eyes, he froze.

He remembered the nightmare.

He remembered Vox on top of him, touching him in places he had never even touched himself.

He remembered Vox telling him Alastor was enjoying it.

He remembered the nausea of it.

How dirty he had felt afterward.

A chill ran through him again, and he shut his legs tightly, as if that alone could stop Vox from touching him there. He clenched his fists, staring at the ceiling. At anything but Vox. He didn’t want to see his expression. Didn’t want to see the desire in his gaze. Or the lust. He didn’t want to look at him at all. He closed his eyes, a tear sliding down his cheek.

It didn’t have to end like this.

Vox and he didn’t have to stop being allies. They didn’t have to stop being friends. They didn’t have to become enemies.

If only Vox had accepted his deal— the one where he would help restore his reputation in exchange for breaking their previous contract. If only Vox were a little less cruel. A little more human…

If only he wasn’t so disgusted by sex.

If only he could love Vox romantically.

If only he wasn’t broken.

“Fuck.”

Alastor kept his eyes closed, still not moving. The weight on top of him disappeared, as if no one was there anymore, but he barely reacted.

“Fuck, Al.”

This time, Alastor did open his eyes. His cheeks felt wet. He didn’t know when he had started crying. But he didn’t care. All he saw was Vox. He was no longer on top of him. He was away from him, almost leaning against the wall, arms wrapped around himself. He looked uncomfortable.

“What… what did you think I was going to do?” Vox asked quietly. His voice was tense. It almost sounded like it had taken effort to ask.

“What are you talking about?” Alastor tried to ignore the crack in his voice and tried to steady his breathing.

“When I was on top of you, you closed your legs, as if I…” he hesitated for a second, and his hands trembled. He changed the subject, unwilling to continue that line of thought. “You… you said ‘why did you have to force me.’” For a moment, it almost looked like he was going to vomit. “Alastor, is that what happened in the nightmare? Is that… what you think I am?” The pain was reflected in his eyes.

What?

“Do you really think I would force you? Do you really think I would…?” He couldn’t finish the sentence. His voice cracked, and he took another step back. “I didn't realize you think so low of me”

What?

Alastor couldn’t understand what was happening. Vox wasn’t yelling at him. He wasn’t forcing him to do anything. He wasn’t touching him. He wasn’t doing anything the Vox from his nightmare would have done. He wasn’t doing anything his mind expected. Why wasn’t he doing the same thing?

“We made a deal,” Alastor replied, still not getting up from the floor. He only sat up, enough to look at Vox. “You want to have sex with me. Are you really telling me you wouldn’t stop at anything to get it?”

Vox froze, processing Alastor’s words. One second passed. Then two. Then three. And then— he started laughing.

Alastor thought he was mocking him. Maybe he thought Alastor had said something funny, even if he didn’t agree. But it wasn’t that. He knew it when Vox’s laughter broke, when he hugged himself tighter, as if trying to hold back his emotions.

It wasn’t normal laughter.

It was hysterical. Nervous.

Desperate.

“Is that what I did in your nightmare?” Vox asked between broken laughs. “Is that what makes you think I would ignore what you want, that I’d just go ahead without caring?” The laughter slowly faded, and just when Alastor thought he had calmed down, Vox let out a sob. “Do you really think I would rape you, Al?” A tear slipped from his eye, quickly wiped away. “Do you really think I care so little about you?”

“You’re a demon,” Alastor said, wrapping his arms around himself tightly, almost digging his claws into his skin. “Deals are what matter most to us.”

Vox frowned. “You think so? Then I have something to tell you, Al.”

Alastor instinctively pulled back when Vox summoned the chain that bound them. His body tensed immediately. That chain was the constant proof that they were still connected, the proof that Alastor had made a mistake making a deal with Vox. He expected Vox to pull him toward him, to hurt him again. But he— he didn’t do that.

Instead, Vox raised his hands, grabbed the chain—

“You haven’t been paying attention if you think having sex with you matters more to me than your well-being.”

—and broke it.

Alastor couldn’t believe what had just happened. Vox had broken the chain. Vox had broken the deal. Voluntarily. Without Alastor having to trick him into it. Without Alastor having to force it. That meant he wouldn’t have to have sex with him, not even once. That meant there was still a chance their relationship wouldn’t be ruined. That meant he and Vox could be…

“I don’t know what made you think I would force you to have sex with me. I don’t know what I did in your nightmare or in reality to make you think that, but…” Vox let out a shaky sigh. “I would never do that.”

“Vox…”

“No,” Vox interrupted. “No, listen to me, Al. I might have wanted to have sex with you. Hell, I won’t lie to you, Al, I still do.” He paused. “But I would never touch you that way if that’s not what you want.”

“Why not?” Alastor asked uncertainly, getting up from the floor and stepping closer to Vox.

“Because you’re the only one in this damn Hell who’s worth it, Al,” he crossed his arms. “You’re the only thing that matters to me. I’d do anything for you. And not having sex? That’s nothing compared to the idea of losing you.”

“All for me?”

Alastor couldn’t believe it. He had always wanted to be someone’s priority. Since he was a child, he had dreamed of finding someone who would love him unconditionally. Someone who would respect his boundaries, who would love him without expecting anything in return. A man, a woman, or anyone who would look at him and not see a means to an end, not someone to date, but someone to spend meaningful time with. Someone who would see a human being, someone with emotions and feelings, and not think of him as a boyfriend, a toy, a prize, or a monster.

But long ago, he had stopped believing that was possible.

Everyone wanted something from him. His power, his body, dates with him. Everyone who approached him had a hidden intention. It didn’t matter what: they always expected something in return.

Love.

Fame.

Money.

Power.

Loyalty.

Sex.

When he met Vox, he didn’t think Vox was any different from the rest of Hell’s demons. But as he got to know him, it became clear there was something special about him. Vox made him feel something special— something he hadn’t felt with anyone else. For a while, he thought maybe —just maybe— he had found that special someone he had been looking for. And then Vox proposed that deal, the deal where Vox would do anything for him if they had sex once a year.

That was when his hopes died.

That was when it was proven that no one would ever be able to love him unconditionally.

But now…

“All for you,” Vox confirmed.

Alastor swallowed and sat down on the bed. He needed something to lean on so he wouldn’t collapse. Vox sounded so sincere, so real, that it almost hurt to hear him.

“And what if I told you I’ll never have sex with you?” Alastor asked uncertainly, his voice trembling. “What would you do then? What would you do if I told you I’ll never let you touch me like that?”

Vox went silent, as if thinking about how to answer, and Alastor waited without saying anything. The last time he said that —in his nightmare, he reminded himself— Vox had refused to make a new deal with him because Alastor told him he would never have sex with him, no matter if their previous deal was broken. He didn’t know what to expect from the real Vox.

“It’s your decision, not mine,” Vox finally replied. “I told you, Al. All I care about is your well-being. If you don’t want to have sex, then that’s fine.” Vox closed his eyes for a moment, then looked back at him. “I will never force you to have sex with me, with or without a deal.”

Alastor felt a lump in his throat. He laughed to stop the tears from escaping. “Is that really enough for you?”

“Alastor.”

Vox reached out his hand, but didn’t touch him. He stopped halfway, watching him as if asking for permission. Alastor felt a sting in his chest. Why…? He nodded slightly, bracing himself for Vox’s hand on his shoulder— but it didn’t come. Instead, Vox placed a hand on his cheek. Gently.

“What you offer me is enough,” he said, caressing his cheek softly. “You will always be enough for me.”

“I… what?” Alastor blinked, feeling his eyes wet. “What did you just say?” He let out another laugh, ignoring the warmth and pain growing in his chest.

“I’ll repeat it,” Vox said, his voice firm but soft. “You are enough. You are enough for me.” He seemed to notice something in Alastor’s eyes, because he placed his other hand on his cheek too. “You are enough for me. Do you hear me, Al?” He gently wiped away a tear. “You are enough.”

Alastor tried to look away, to lower his head, to hide. Vox let him lower his head. He didn’t stop him.

What he didn’t expect was for Vox to kneel in front of him, taking his trembling hands gently and covering them with his own.

“I don’t know who convinced you otherwise, Al. But you are enough, okay?” He stroked his knuckles. “You are enough.”

Alastor couldn’t take it anymore. He collapsed onto the floor in front of Vox, resting his forehead against his shoulder. His trembling fingers clutched his shirt, and he tried to hold himself back from crying. Even though he felt a lump in his throat, even though tears wanted to escape his eyes, he couldn’t let them fall. He had already gone too far by letting himself get close to Vox like this, resting his head on his shoulder as if seeking refuge.

Vox hugged him gently, slowly, keeping his arms around his shoulders or upper back, never going below his waist. It was so different from the Vox in his dream, so gentle, that he had to squeeze his eyes shut.

The Vox from his nightmare had hit him, screamed at him, touched him without respecting his boundaries, had gotten angry when he said he would never be able to have sex with him or love him the way Vox loved him. And instead, the real Vox… had broken the deal. Had told him he didn’t care about not having sex with him. Had held him gently, without crossing his boundaries.

“You… you do realize I can never give you what you want, right?” Alastor inhaled shakily. “I can’t give you sex. And… I also can’t… I can’t love you the way you love me.”

Vox tightened his embrace slightly. “I… I know.”

“Then why aren’t you angry with me?” His voice broke. “Why aren’t you yelling at me for not loving you back?”

“Al…” Vox took a deep breath. “I don’t care that you don’t feel romantically or sexually attracted to me.” His arms trembled. “All I care about is that you feel safe with me.”

“Why?” His hands trembled harder. “Why don’t you care about not being able to kiss me, not being able to have sex with me?”

“Because I love you, Al,” Vox let out a broken, almost disbelieving laugh as he stroked Alastor’s hair. “Because love is about fully accepting the person you love. Boundaries included. And I…” He paused. “I will never cross any of your boundaries.”

Alastor shut his eyes tighter. His body trembled more than before, and before he realized it —before he could stop it— a tear escaped. Then another. All the tears he hadn’t shed in his dream. All the tears he hadn’t allowed himself to shed in front of the Vox from his nightmare.

“I’m sorry,” Alastor clutched Vox’s shirt. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I can’t love you the way you want me to. I’m sorry I can’t give you sex. I’m sorry…” His words were cut off by a sob.

“No, no, no,” Vox pulled him back slightly and cupped his cheek. “Don’t you dare say that. Don’t apologize for not being able to have sex with me. Or for not loving me the way I love you.”

“Vox…” Alastor leaned into his hand. “All demons tolerate sex. And I… I hate it. It disgusts me. It makes me feel dirty. It makes me feel…” He clenched his fists, unable to finish. “I don’t even understand romantic love,” he sobbed. “I’m sick and broken, don’t you see?” His lips trembled. “Why would you still love me like this?”

“Al…” Vox’s eyes filled with tears. Pain reflected in them— but not for himself. For Alastor. Gently, he caressed his cheek. “Don’t say you’re broken. Al, you’re not broken. You’re… just different.”

He leaned in and softly kissed his temple. A gentleness that nearly stole Alastor’s breath away.

“You’re just different,” he repeated. “And you don’t have to have sex or love anyone if you don’t want to.”

Alastor froze. For a moment, he stayed completely still, looking at Vox as if he were seeing him for the first time. Vox had just told him he wasn’t broken. That it was okay not to feel sexual or romantic attraction. That he didn’t have to force himself into anything. He was the first man who had ever told him something like that. The first man who had fully accepted him. The first one who truly loved him unconditionally.

You’re something special, Vox.

Alastor leaned back into Vox’s arms, this time crying for something more than pain. Vox immediately wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close as if trying to completely shield him. As if his only instinct was to protect him. For the first time since making the deal with Vox, for the first time since waking up in Vox’s presence, he felt like he could breathe— like there was nothing around his throat suffocating him.

“Vox…” Alastor murmured a few seconds later.

“What is it, Al?”

“Thank you,” Alastor moved closer to him.

“Al…” Vox held him tighter for a moment before softening his embrace. “You don’t have to… thank me.” He got closer to Alastor, and pressed another kiss in his temple.

Yes.

I have to, Vox.

You saw my pain.

You saw my scars.

And instead of taking advantage of it…

Instead of hurting me... 

You accepted me.

Completely.

This doodle ⬇️ is based on a true story of my bitterly single homie responding to my ace complaints at the bar 😝 (we clown around)

The beauty of the pumpkin head joke is that the true joke is TELLING the joke to people.

For those who don’t know it, this is the joke:

A man with a pumpkin for a head walks into a bar. The bartender exclaims: “My god, I’m sorry, but WHAT happened to your head?”

The man sighs and says, “So I found a genie in a bottle who granted me three wishes…”

Bartender: “Ok, well what were the wishes?”

Man: “Well, my 1st wish was for 100 million dollars. AND I GOT IT!!”

Bartender: “WOW! Okay…what was the 2nd wish?”

Man: “For the 2nd wish, I asked for the most beautiful woman in the world to fall in love with me…AND I GOT THAT TOO!”

Bartender: “Incredible! So then…what was the 3rd wish?”

Man: “Now see…that’s where I really messed up…