Chapter Text
Blood. Panic. Crying.
Alastor has been distant since the Extermination. He has stayed in his room and everyone has noticed. The Hotel has been mostly quiet ever since Sir Pentious’s death, and Alastor’s usual cheery demeanor has been replaced with silence. Husk has been debating on talking to him, but their last one-on-one resulted in him almost dying. For the second time. So he has been staying behind the bar for now. Niffty has noticed this too but there’s nothing she can do, if she really paid much attention.
In the Radio Demon’s room, he sits on his bed. He tries to keep a smile on, practicing keeping a solid smile and not a shaky smile. The wound he got from Adam has left a scar, but he changed the clothes into its original form. The Radio Demon has tried to keep his smile through his fear; he has been more alert than he likes to admit and even just a touch can cause him to panic.
Removing his jacket and folding it neatly, Alastor lays it on his bed. He steps in front of his floor mirror and removes his shirt and runs his fingers over his scar. For a second, he remembers the fight between him and Adam: the movement, the blood, the pain—Alastor flinches and backs up to the wall, his breathing heavy. He clutches his chest by where his scar is, feeling pain again.
The Radio Demon tries to not break a sweat, his breathing shaky, but fails. A bead of sweat runs down his face and his deer ears tilt down some. He slides to the ground, one hand on the side of his face and the other on his chest. Every breath he takes is painful. Alastor tries to crack another wide smile, but it hurts. He sees Adam’s guitar, he sees his cane breaking—
He freezes in place, his breathing hitches. His hands are placed on the sides of his head, his eyes wide. His breathing is erratic; his chest screams in pain. He grabs his chest and his slender body curls in on him. The pain reminds him of his father, of when he was weak and vulnerable. And for the first time in the Radio Demon’s life in Hell, tears fall down his face. He is scared.
He is hurting. He can’t breathe, his chest is burning, and he can hear Adam’s snarky attitude. He feels the blood on his chest and one sentence resonates in his mind: the great Alastor, altruist, died for his friends. He sits up, fighting the pain.
No. Alastor is not going down. Not yet. He cleans up, gets his cane, and puts on a smile. He leaves his room and goes to the main room. Angel Dust is talking with Husk and Cherri Bomb; Vaggie and Charlie are honoring Sir Pentious, and Niffty is cleaning.
“Salutations!” Alastor puts on a forced smile, his voice strained.
“Alastor!” Charlie exclaims happily and hugs him.
Alastor flinches; his eyes widen and his breath hitches but he quickly composes himself and pats her head.
“Um, hello, Charlie,” Alastor smiles.
Husk notices this and decides to intervene. He walks over and pats Charlie’s head.
“Hey, uh– Charlie?” Husk starts. “Why don’t you give him space?”
Angel turns his attention. “Yeah, leave ‘im alone, Char.”
Charlie looks at Alastor and backs away. Alastor is frozen in place and everyone looks at him in worry. His eyes are wide and he struggles to continue smiling as his smile twitches.
“Alastor?” Charlie asks and places a hand on his arm.
Alastor flinches and backs away, his breath hitching. He keeps on a smile, but turns and leaves. His mind is racing too much, his heart is pounding too fast, his head is spinning too much, his breathing is too heavy—
Alastor blacks out.