Chapter Text
"You're inspiring. Really! And when you think about it, modern entertainment actually started with radio.” Vincent gushed, although he felt his sympathetic system go into overdrive, palms getting sweaty. He was doing it, he was really going to do it.
After fifteen years by each other’s side, orbiting yet not getting too close, Vincent was going to break the barrier. He was finally going to confirm with Alastor what they were. They were friends—obviously—but could they be more? Maybe, partners? Partners in business… maybe even partners in love…?
Okay, maybe that was going too far and perhaps Vincent was being delusional. Take it one step at a time. But at the very least, he wanted some certainty today. Having spent so long together, Vincent at least wanted to know what Alastor felt about their relationship. They even shared the entertainment district territory together after all! It was time to make it official! Alastor can’t say no… right? Of course he couldn’t. Plus, Vincent had full faith in his ability to charm and convince.
Anyway, he already had their logo planned out so…
Noticing Alastor hum at his words, Vincent asked demurely, “Am I boring you with my compliments?”
“Perhaps,” Alastor said but that did not bring Vincent down. Not at all. He loved it whenever Alastor would acknowledge his words, even if they were sometimes condescending. That’s just how he showed his attention and care. Hearing just one word from him brought a huge dopey grin onto Vincent’s face and he knew it was now or never.
“Well, look, I’ll just get to the point.” Vincent started, leaning in closer to Alastor. “We’ve been close for a few years now, right? I mean, people know us, they love us, and with new overlords popping up every day—and before you hit me with the ‘you’re pretty new yourself’, I know, okay? But I’m much more forward-thinking, so it’s in your best interest to hear me out.” He paused for awhile, slightly worried that he was bombarding Alastor with too much too fast, although on the surface he retained his confidence. He wondered if Alastor could feel his anxiety through their connection.
“I’m listening, pal,” Alastor said, looking pleased, before turning to the bartender. “Bartender, another whiskey.”
As Alastor was busy with payment, Vincent could not help but stare at him affectionately. This was his Al—his soulmate. He has stayed by Vincent’s side, helping him with every step of his journey in Hell. In fact, Vincent could not even remember a time where they were apart. And he wanted to keep it that way. Forever. His mind started to drift, daydreaming again about the life they were going to have together after Vincent could get past this hurdle. He had to look away as he felt himself blush.
You can do it, he pep-talked himself. What’s the worst that could happen—that he says no?
“So,” Vincent spoke again, before he decided to back off—he’s been putting this conversation off for a decade, after all. “I’ve been thinking, Alastor, with your incredible power and my massive influence, we would be unstoppable.” Getting carried away in his own hype, Vincent stood up, barely able to contain his excitement.
“Radio and Video. Me and you,” he laid his hands on Alastor’s shoulders and he hoped his sentiment was getting through correctly. “We could rule Hell. Together. As partners.” Vincent extended his hand to Alastor, staring keenly for the response.
A second passed in silence. Two. Three.
And then…
Alastor burst into full body laughter.
It stunned Vincent. He stared at Alastor in confusion. He didn’t say anything funny, did he?
He waited, hand still extended limply, for Alastor to stop, to look at him. To tell him what was so fucking funny.
Eventually, after what felt like forever, Alastor stopped laughing. But there was laughter still in his voice as he said, “Oh, that’s—oh, you’re serious!” And he started bursting in laughter again. Vincent’s hand fell to his side.
Alastor continued, “Come now, Vox, I knew you could be pathetic at times but I didn’t realise you were so weak.”
Vincent managed to force out some laughs, trying to hide his hurt with the situation. He’s been talked down to many times by Alastor before and he’s always been fine with it, since that’s just how he was but this time… it stung. It stung deeply. In fact, the full weight of Alastor’s word to him had just sunk it. Is this, is this what Alastor really thought of him?
“What?” Vincent stuttered out.
“Oh—” And there was another bout of laughter from Alastor. Vincent loved the sound of Alastor’s laughter and he had spent years cataloging down the ways to elicit his joy. But now, his laughter sounded like nails on a chalk board. Vincent never wanted to hear it again.
“Why are you laughing?” Vincent whispered through their connection.
But his words must have been drowned out by Alastor’s damned laughter. Because there was no reply.
“You need me to join your team?” Alastor asked. “And here I thought you might actually be approaching my level. But asking for assistance? Partnership? I am quite disappointed in you.”
Disappointed… Vincent slowly lowered himself back to the chair and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to re-centre himself. But the words kept echoing. Disappointment. Disappointment. Vincent said, voice quivering, “I just thought… you know, since we were friends…” Stay calm, stay calm… But he felt like he was breaking down, eyes becoming blurry. He just did not understand. Where was all this coming from?
“Friends?” Alastor got straight up in his face and although previously Vincent would have loved it, this time he wanted to turn and hide. He tried his best to hold in his tears. He felt like he could barely breathe. “There are no friends in Hell, Vincent. I thought that was something you understood. How embarrassing.”
Vincent’s face glitched as he felt the words crush him. That’s it then. A single tear dripped down his screen. It’s ruined, everything’s ruined. He felt like the whole world was tilted on its axis, like he did not know left from right, up from down. Why did this happen? What did he do to deserve this? Was this even the Alastor he knew? Why? Why?
“Why?”
Vox slammed one of his hands onto the table—hard. And it caused a deafening silence to fall upon the bar, except for the annoyed buzzing of static in the background. Vox scowled at Alastor, angry. So, so angry. How dare he speak to him like that? What right did he have? They were both overlords, Vox did not need to to take this.
Especially since they weren’t even friends.
Vox saw Alastor stiffen. As if he were anticipating something. A fight?
No, Vox wouldn’t be able to take it if they fought. And he refused to give Alastor the opportunity to beat him to a pulp when he did nothing wrong.
“You know what, Al?” Vox sneered. “You can go f—” He cut himself off and scoffed.
“Whatever. Pretend I didn’t say anything.”
And with that, Vox disappeared in a flash of electricity, plopping down onto his bed at home, a total mess. Now, he let his stupid tears flow. That fucker. To think he ever thought that Alastor could be… could be… his soulmate. What had he even been thinking?
He always knew Alastor was mean. He was condescending. He was rude. Manipulative, arrogant, insensitive, controlling—he was the epitome of a sinner. But never to him.
Vox never thought it could be directed at him.
He stared at the ceiling, exhaustion seeping in.
Was this it then? Vox was prepared for rejection because despite knowing Alastor for so long, he also knew that he could be unpredictable. But never in his life did he expect him to act like that.
Alastor showed his hand then. Vox wanted to know how Alastor felt? Now he knew.
Vox closed his eyes. He wished he didn’t. Curiosity killed the cat and he paid the price.
Maybe he should never have wanted more.
But now back to the question. He had all the information he could ever need. Now what was he going to do about it?
Was he going to leave? Cut Alastor off?
Could he even survive that? Losing Alastor would be like losing a part of himself. A permanent fixture of his life can’t just be removed without having mass effects, after all.
Vox shook his head and he reached out towards his Sharky soft toy, searching for comfort. No, he could not toss this relationship—no, friendship—no, this thing—away completely, despite how awful he felt. Fifteen years was not so easily thrown away, right?
But would Alastor feel the same?
For once, Vox did not know the answer.
Am I a toy to you, my love?
Just a thing to play and then throw away
“You’re such a disappointment,” Vincent’s father chided, staring down his nose at him. Vincent shivered from the cold gaze and looked down at his feet, ashamed. Beside his father, his mother also chimed in, tone equally unfeeling, “I thought you were better than this. Do you know what you did wrong?”
Vincent said, “I didn’t do well enough. I was third in class…”
“And?” His mother prompted.
“And… if I’m not at the top, I might as well not have tried.”
His mother’s face softened slightly and her lips showed a vague smile. “Good. Now don’t let this happen again.”
“I won’t.” Vincent said, determined.
Vincent was a lonely child.
His family did well enough for themselves. Money was never lacking and Vincent could get whatever he wanted.
However, he never really got along well with the other children in school. They must have sensed something off about him, because almost no one talked to him if they could help it.
It did not help that Vincent was an envious child. Little things set him off easily. Whenever he saw one of his classmates surpass his grades in class, whenever someone was chosen over him for any team or competition, whenever he saw the others playing together or when they would get hugs from their parents on pick up from school, he raged inside. It just wasn’t fair. Why did others have what he couldn’t? Did he not deserve it? He worked so hard.
And if sometimes, the other kids found their things missing, whether it be notes that they carefully crafted or a new toy lovingly gifted to them from their parents, well, Vincent didn’t know anything about it.
It took him another decade before he got the hang of talking to people. When he finally got the taste of people looking at him, wanting to be near him, all attention on him, it changed his modus operandi entirely. It was a breath of fresh air. No longer did he want to go into the family business, to be hidden behind numbers and figures, the head of a company wrapped in shadows. He wanted to be centre stage, baby!
With that, straight out of college, he left his family home for good, relocating to New York City to begin afresh. It was definitely spur of the moment but he knew he was destined to be there. And who could argue in the face of destiny?
He rose swiftly in the industry—no small part to his extracurricular activities—and the higher he rose, the more powerful he felt. All those eyes on him, all the ears hanging off his every word, all those people chanting his name. It was intoxicating!
And he deserved all of it. Some people out there might wonder how he could justify killing people to get ahead and he would retort that this was a dog eat dog world! There were people out there sleeping their way up and, well, if they could do that then he could kill his way up! Vincent would argue that his way of doing things was harder and took more effort. In fact, he was occasionally envious of the women who he knew were only big due to their affairs—if he could have taken that path, he might have considered it. He might even be bigger than he was!
Unfortunately, although his public life flourished, his private life was still lacking. Of course, there were many women who threw themselves at his feet but Vincent could not bring himself to want them back, despite his perpetually craving for affection and validation. It was a sore point for him, his yearning for his own gender, how his eyes would linger on masculine frames rather than succumbing to feminine wiles.
It was something he refused to acknowledge in himself until the day he fell. The love from the masses was enough for him.
But the day he crash landed in Hell with a television for a head was truly humbling. He loved standing out but not like this. The television was a crucial part of his life, that goes without saying. However, that didn’t mean that he wanted to be one.
To be a tool, cursed to always work to be of use…
The first year in Hell was a trial by fire. Vincent was surprised he even survived. With his head the way it was, he was targeted often by others for the novelty factor. In his human form, he could have easily fought them off but he was always off-balance with the bulk on his shoulders and it made him so frustratingly vulnerable. He had a few close calls before he accidentally discovered his ability to harness electricity. Even then, it sucked to start out at the bottom of the pyramid again.
Days in Hell creeped by slowly and meaninglessly as Vincent lived day to day keeping his head down.
At least, that was until he ran into the Radio Demon while passing by a dark alleyway.
I never asked for this
I always did my best
Without your love, I am a broken mess