#micchecksmile

"ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?" THE DEMON STARED down at Alastor, eyes searching the human's face as if trying to suss out if he was being serious. While he knew under the circumstances he was compelled to listen to Al, this order was fucking STRANGE.

Discussed starter for @mic-check-smile !

Not for the first time, a jagged portal tore open the floor of Alastor's cabin in the woods, too bright green magic mixing with neon cyan sparks of electricity. The air was instantly filled with charged static, causing papers to rise and the curtains to move, as if pushed by a sudden gust of wind.

The magical door was smaller than the previous ones, barely enough to allow the demon who had forced it to materialise through, and it looked much more unstable, as if it could blink out of existence at any given moment. The being that crawled out of it wasn't in better shape, with several burns covering his torso and limbs, silvery blood staining the cloth of his clothes.

The extent of the wounds spoke not only of a weaker power, but also, and especially, of carelessness. As if he hadn't even tried to shield himself from the damage he knew that the gateway would have caused him.

Vox basically collapsed on the wooden planks, sparks dancing around his whole frame as his systems buzzed with errors, his vents whirling at mad speed to try and prevent him from fully overheating. Pain coursed along his nerves like electricity did along his wires, but he didn't seem fazed by it. The agony was a welcome break from the hollow apathy that numbed his mind almost constantly these days.

It was the reason why he had prolonged his regeneration process for as long as he managed without permanently damaging himself. It was better to hurt than feel nothing at all.

How long had it been since he had last been in the mortal realm? He couldn't have said exactly. Time flew differently in Hell, but it must have been several weeks. So many calls from his mortal lover that he hadn't answered, so many invitations he had declined by sending gifts and short letters instead.

His longing for the radio host had never ceased to burn, but he had gotten so caught up in his plans and delusions of grandeur that everything else had faded into the background.

"... ҉H҉҉E҉҉Y҉ ,Alastor." His voice cracked, static distorting it as his speakers struggled to work properly. "It's been a ҉W҉҉H҉҉I҉҉L҉҉E҉ , hasn't it?"

Understatement of the fucking millennium.

A knot tightened in Vox's chest, as he pushed himself in a seated position, knees bent before him and arms resting over them. Yet, the tension in his shoulders betrayed how he was fighting the urge to hug them to his chest.

"Things got...busy, and I...I got so wrapped up in ҉E҉҉V҉҉E҉҉R҉҉Y҉҉T҉҉H҉҉I҉҉N҉҉G҉ that..." He started, only to let his voice trail off and shake his head. "...I messed up. I messed everything up. So ҉B҉҉A҉҉D҉҉L҉҉Y҉ . And then I almost..."

Ended it all. Killed myself.

All because of the Alastor from his Hell, the man who had defined his afterlife as nothing and no one else. He had thought that he had been getting better, that the obsession he had for the Radio Demon was no longer as totalising as it had once been, but when the motherfucker had offered himself to him...he had just fallen straight back into that old rabbit hole.

Being in love with his mortal, being reciprocated...it hadn't been enough to get him to keep a straight head.

"I...I'm so fucking sorry, Al. Saying it doesn't even start making up for it, even if I never apologise, but...I want you to know that I am." His chest hurt so badly and he wasn't sure if it was the burns or the stormy feelings that filled it. "I...I regret wasting all that time with...delusional madness when I could have been with you. When I should have been with you."

He swallowed slightly, still not daring to look at the human.

@mic-check-smile sent; The young fawn would climb his way on the stags lap, a familiar pattern they had found themselves in. He was content to sit there, smiling up with a blep at his demon. "My demon I have a request~"

Oh, a request from his little fawn. How could Alastor deny him while sat in his lap. "You've got me curious, my dear," He loosely wrapped his arms around the other's middle.

Alastor's quiet reading session was promptly interrupted — by his darling dearest, of course; a welcome interruption, in all honesty.

Smoothly, Alastor wraps an arm around the others' waist, a brow raising in amusement. ❝ Why, good evening, my dear. Has something gotten you in an unpleasant mood? ❞ the demon asked, nonchalance wrapped with sweetness.

Leo had already taken a few strides ahead before the quiet behind him began to feel…wrong. The rhythm of footsteps he’d grown used to was gone. He slowed, glancing over his shoulder with a faint frown tugging at his lips.

“What’s the hol...” The question died halfway out.

Alastor stood a few paces back, posture still carefully composed as ever, but there was no hiding the tension in his frame, not from Leo. The stiffness in his stance, the subtle hitch in his breath, the way his weight favored one side. It clicked almost immediately. He’d seen it before, in passing moments, those rare days when Alastor carried a cane, brushing it off like it was nothing more than an accessory.

“…Ah,” Leo muttered under his breath, the frown deepening.

He didn’t waste time with questions.

In a few quick steps, he closed the distance, and before Alastor could so much as protest, Leo slipped an arm behind his back and another beneath his knees, lifting him clean off the ground in one smooth motion.

“I’ve got you,” Leo said, low and certain, it was never up for debate.

He settled Alastor securely against his chest, grip firm but careful. His expression softened. “C'mon, hold onto me.”

There was no teasing in his voice, just a steady assurance as he started back down the path, carrying him as if he weighed nothing at all.

The path ahead wasn’t empty. A few pedestrians lingered along the walkway, couples drifting beneath shared umbrellas, others skirting puddles left behind by the rain. Their eyes would flicker over the odd pair, some curious, some amused, some lingering at the sight of a young man being carried so effortlessly in another’s arms.

Alastor is cradled close against him, as Leo moved through the crowd like it parted for him without question. One shoulder angled slightly when needed, his hold never loosening, never once jostling him out of place.

His thumb absentmindedly traced a slow line against Alastor’s side, a quiet, grounding motion, more instinct than thought.

“So…” Leo finally spoke, voice low, carrying just enough amusement to soften the edges. His gaze dipped briefly, catching Alastor’s profile again. “Weak ankles, huh?” There was a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Niffty hops out of the pentagram. She's got a cane in her hands, one she'd traded for a curse and a few trinkets specifically for Alastor. She's making one for him, collecting bits of magic and metal to create something really special, but she'd noticed his limp and wants him to have something nice before he joins her and Rosie in Hell.

"Hi, Mr. Alastor!" She waves excitedly. "I brought you a gift for your crunchy human bones!"