Chapter Text
***
1952
It has been 22 years since he met Vincent Whittman. Now looking back, Alastor couldn’t believe all the things they did together… How stupid they were... How stupid he still is! No wait, was. I’m supposed to say “was” now. He’s dead. The man sighed and put his coat to the hanger he usually used, it used to be Vincent’s hanger, they liked putting their coats on top of each others’. Like young highschoolers, it was their way to show that they belonged to each other. Now Alastor’s coat hanged there alone.
“You want coffee?” Pamela asked with a hoarse voice. She had been crying all morning and through the funeral. Alastor shook his head. “Don’t tire yourself dear, go to sleep. Rest.”
Pamela nodded. She was almost glad that Victoria, her sister-in-law, offered to take the kids for how long she needed. She just wanted one night, one night where she would sleep alone in their bed alone for the first time, knowing Vincent wouldn’t be coming back. “Okay… And uh… The lawyer said Vincent’s will might be in his study. If you can find it… the kids…”
“I’ll take care of it, you go.”
Pamela nodded and her bottom lip shivered. She looked at the corridor’s end, where their room was. She didn’t want to be there alone but now she had to. “It’s harder than I thought…”
Alastor put a calming arm around his friend’s shoulders and led her to the bedroom. When he opened the door, the faint smell of Vincent hit his nose and burnt it. He knew Vincent had chosen to stay at his office for the last few months, he knew he didn’t go to his own neighborhood unless he wanted to shower and take a few more changes of clothes but still his smell lingered.
Pamela laid on her bed alone and took Vincent’s clean pillow between her arms. Alastor put the blanket over her body. He gulped. “I’m… I will be at the study.”
She didn’t say anything until he was at the door. He heard a faint “Thank you.” before he closed the door.
He walked to the study he knew better than any other room of this house. When he opened the door, he almost expected to find Vincent there. Sitting on his couch, his glasses on top of his head, reading something, making a mess of things… The couch was empty, his glasses he refused to use after he started to age -they make me look older than I am Al!- was on his coffee table, all his documents were neatly put on his desk…
He went to the table and took the glasses. His finger prints were still visible on the glass, he felt his constant smile slipping, he frowned. He hates when there are finger prints on his glasses, he hates it… He started to clean them with his handkerchief. He was too harsh, too determined to get them clean. Like Vincent was gone because they were dirty and he would come back if Alastor managed to clean them properly.
The sharp edges of the glasses started to hurt his hand but Alastor didn’t care. He cleaned and cleaned and cleaned… He only stopped when one of his unnoticed tears fell onto the glasses. He exhaled shakily. He cleaned it gently and sat down to the couch as he clinged the glasses into his chest. He cried silently, he let out the tears he was holding inside since he heard the news.
He had felt like he didn’t have the right to cry over Vincent when his family was there, when his wife, his daughter were crying. He felt like an intruder at that funeral. Everyone who came knew who Alastor was. Vincent’s dear and only companion, his colleague, his life long friend… Of course he stepped up when his friend’s family needed him; he called the kids and told them what happened before they could learn it from morning news, he held Darlene as she cried, he stood next to Pamela as Vincent was put to his grave, he kicked all the news reporters who crowded the church out. He liked to believe he behaved like how Vincent would’ve wanted.
He put the glasses on top of his head, pushing his curls back like Vincent used to do. Somehow that made him feel closer to the dead man. He got up and started to look for the will like Pamela wanted. He found it in one of his drawers. He didn’t want to read it; it felt like if he read it, it would be too real too quick. He decided he would put it on the kitchen table. When he was looking for it, he had found something else. Something old, something he decided to forget for his mental sake…
It was supposed to be unfinished. Vincent had promised that he gave up on killing himself after they had that talk and the letter was going to be left unfinished. When he opened it, he found it finished. No, don’t tell me this was your plan, don’t tell me this was not an accident Vincent.
“My dearest, Alexandre…
“I am so sorry for all the misery I caused you. You told me not to do it and I just went and did it. I flew too close to the sun, my love. I don’t regret melting my wings, my only regret is that it hurt you and my family as well as it hurt me. It was never my intention. So I decided to save you from this source of anguish. I will leave. Maybe I’ll see you in Hell, who knows?” This was it, this was all Alastor read before, the rest was new.
“I knew I told you this letter would be left unfinished but I have to get this out of my chest, Al. It hurts. It hurts so much. Having all the glory for decades and then just losing it all due to one mistake, one misstep, one uncalculated emotion… I don’t know how to move on from here. I don’t know how to function. I don’t know how to live with all those eyes looking at me like I’m the dirt under their shoes.
“Remember what you said to me after our first? You told me I was created by God to be loved and cherished. I found it sappy for the longest time but now I see. You were right. I was made to be loved, Al. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with being hated. I don’t know how to deal with it. I never thought that day would come, you know how I am. You do… Only you do…
“So if you’re reading this right now, it means I’m dead. Or I was careless with my documents again and you found this and kicked my ass, I’m not sure. If that’s the case, my love please be gentle, I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m one sad old man. Even if you don’t believe that, act like you do.” Alastor snickered with tears in his eyes spilling down.
“If it’s the other case… Well, I’ll be waiting for you in Hell. Maybe I see that demon lady you are very fond of huh? God, even writing this feels silly, I’ll miss your little delusions. I love you.
“Yours, Yours, Yours, Vincent.”
Alastor pushed the letter to his aching heart like it could ease the pain. He couldn’t swallow. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t live, he can’t live, I can’t live like this, I can’t live without him.
When he raised his head he saw the ugly shadow that only appeared when Rosie wanted to talk to him. The shadow moved with a smile and pointed at the bookcase on the wall. Alasto got up and walked there. He opened the little drawer on it and saw what the Shadow was pointing at. Vincent’s family heirloom gun… The way he’d cling to that gun and take good care of it… The way he never would let anyone touch it, even Alastor wasn’t allowed. He took the heavy gun out. If you’re angry at me right now Vincent, you have no right to be, if you were alive you could’ve scolded me but you’re not.
The Shadow smiled and twirled. The message was clear. Alastor put the gun in his pocket. He picked the will and walked to the kitchen, placing it where Pamela can find it easily after she woke up. He went to the bedroom again, Pamela was snoring slightly, she must’ve cried herself to sleep. He kissed her hair and whispered. “I’m leaving dear.”
“Hm? Alastor? Why-”
“Shush… keep sleeping. It’s okay.”
Pamela went back to her sleep and Alastor got out of the house. He got into his car -technically Vincent’s car because Alastor wasn’t allowed to own a car- and drove to Victoria’s place. It was rather close, thank God. He parked and got out of the car. The door was already open to welcome the people who visited to pay their respects to Vincent and console the family.
Alastor saw Brad first; Victoria’s very bland, very boring husband. Brad walked to him and shook his hand. “Are you okay? How is Pam?”
“We are both fine, she’s sleeping, I came to see the kids. I decided that… I can’t be around, not when Vincent is gone… I’ll go back to New Orleans.”
“So soon… you should wait until the will, maybe he left something to you.”
“Well then give it to the kids. I don’t… I already took from him and gave him enough. He doesn’t get to beat me in this. Giving me something when he knows I can’t reciprocate.”
Brad snorted a little. “It’s good that you can make jokes, Victoria really needs this.” He said. “Uh, the kids, right… Chris is in the back garden, Darlene is upstairs I guess, her baby is making a fuss.”
Alastor nodded and went upstairs first. As he walked, the wailing sound got clearer. He found Darlene and her little girl easily. “How are my girls?” He asked like Vincent used to ask. Darlene turned to him with red eyes. “She doesn’t shut up for one second so mommy can cry on her own!”
Alastor took the two-year-old baby from her mother and cooed her. The baby was calming down as Darlene tried to muffle her own cries by pushing her hands to her mouth. The little girl was asleep before they knew it and Alastor put her to the bed. He went to Darlene and got her out of there. He used to say that twenty was too young to be a mother but twenty two was too young to be left without a father as well.
He helped her wash her face in the bathroom like he used to do when she was just a little girl herself. When she calmed down, she looked at Alastor. “How’s mom?”
“She is fine, sleeping. She needed it.”
Darlene nodded. “I… I don’t know what to do without him.”
“You have your aunt Victoria… and Brad.”
Darlene smiled at the way Alastor said his name. “I have you.”
Alastor averted his eyes. “I’m going out of state for a while. To New Orleans…”
“What? But-”
“Being here is too much my dear girl, too many memories… I have to go away for a while.”
Darlene nodded. “Sure… You’re right…”
Alastor opened his eyes, Darlene got between them quickly. Alastor hugged her for the last time. They let go of each other when little noises started to come from the room they left Darlene’s daughter in. She sniffled. “I better take care of her…”
“Good luck.”
Darlene smiled and left. The easy part was over. Alastor went downstairs and went to the backyard. There Chris was. “Are you smoking?”
The man looked up. “I’m thirty years old and this is my father’s funeral. So what if I am?” He said with a tired voice. “How’s mom?”
“She is fine, sleeping.”
“I’ll go home tonight, can’t stay here.”
“It’s the best, don’t leave her alone.”
“Won’t you be staying as well?”
“I’m going to New Orleans.”
Chris just nodded. “Makes sense… I’ll leave one week later as well, the work doesn’t let me have more than a few days.”
Alastor stood there and lit a cigarette for himself as well. They smoked silently. “Will you be okay?”
“Sure… Why wouldn’t I be?”
“It’s okay to be sad, you know…”
“I know…”
“You are allowed to cry.”
“I know.”
“So you-”
“Look I don’t need a lecture about emotions or some shit, okay? Especially not from an old fag.” Chris said with a fury Alastor used to see in Vincent’s mismatched eyes. “I won’t cry over a poor example of a man just because he’s- was my father. He lived, he screwed up, he died. Shit happens.” He put down his cigarette and marched inside. Alastor sighed.
He was more upset that he was going to die before he saw that kid let go of his anger and grudge. How cute he was when he was just a kid who sat on his father’s chair and colored on his documents. Alastor missed those times. Vincent was still alive and kicking, his network was thriving, they were thriving.
Alastor hugged Victoria lastly and left the house. He got in his car and drove to the fishing cabin Vincent used to take them. It took him hours to get there, he used to sleep on the road and Vincent would drive, he never realized the road was this boring. Maybe it was because he was alone. There was no Vincent humming, no Vincent caressing his ankles Alastor put on his lap when he was getting comfortable on his seat, no Vincent stopping every hour for a pee break.
He walked the route and got to their sanctuary. One place he was allowed to be himself without being afraid of backlash. Oh the weekends he had spent with Vincent here. The bodies they buried near… He didn’t have the heart to go inside and be insulted by all those happy memories. He went to the little dock Vincent used to fish in the morning. Oh how it would anger Alastor. There was no power in the universe that could wake Vincent in the morning since the man’s work schedule was leaning more to the night and wanted to sleep but if it was for fishing, he would be up at 4 a.m. He sat down and let his legs down to the lake.
He played with the gun in his hand. He caressed the engraved “Whittman” with cursive handwriting. He lowered the gun’s guard. He fiddled with the trigger as if he was trying something. Then he put it to his temple. I can do this. I already know I will go to Hell, I will be the strongest one there. I’ll find Vincent and we’ll do whatever quest is bestowed upon me and we’ll be together again.
He heard the bird’s chirping. It was a fine June afternoon. The heatwave was caressing his body through his shirt like a gentle lover. He smiled. “See you in Hell, love.” He whispered and fired the gun.
***
1930
He heard the bird’s chirping. It was a fine June afternoon. The heatwave was caressing his body through his shirt like a gentle lover. He smiled. “Come on! Tell me! Tell me, tell me, tell me!” He kept smiling at Mimzy’s pleads. “No, I will not tell you.”
“You are mean!” The woman said before taking a breath from her cigarette. “Come on! I’ll give you my last two cigarettes!”
Alastor extended his hand, already accepting the deal. Mimzy gave him the branches. The man smiled with a victory “Well… if you must know… I don’t know either. He just said he needed to talk to me tonight.”
The woman started hitting him with her purse. “You are mean! Give me back my cigarettes! Right now! You tricked me!”
“And you fell for it. It’s not my fault you’re so gullible.” Alastor said, putting them in his inner pocket.
“Being friends with you is Hell.”
“That is not a word for a lady.” Alastor said and checked his fancy watch, something he stole from one of his victims. “I’ll be going now, wish me luck.”
“You don’t need it dollface.” Mimzy said with a genuine smile, already forgetting her cigarettes. “I’m sure that promotion is coming.”
Alastor blushed. They were still living with the effect of The Great Crash, everyone was miserable, even the rich ones, no one had any money to spend on entertainment but somehow, Alastor’s broadcast was still listened to. People liked it, they liked the stories Alastor told, they liked the songs he played, they liked him. “Let’s not get hasty dear… but I hope so too.”
They waved at each other and Alastor got out of the alley they were talking in and walked down the street. When he got to his workplace he took a deep breath and let it go. He fixed his suit in front of the dirty mirror in the hallway before making his way to the boss’s office. He knocked first. When he was permitted to, he entered the room.
He was smiling kindly. “Good afternoon sir, you said you wanted to talk to me yesterday.”
“Alexandre, yes.” The man nodded. “Son… I have some mighty bad news…”
“What is it sir?” Alastor felt cold on that hot June afternoon. What was it? Did people learn that he was a black man and they demanded that his broadcast be cancelled? Was he found? Did they-
“I sold the company son.”
“What?”
“I sold the company to Moonlits. Well, they have a new name now, they sold themselves as well. I sold this place to Whittman Entertainment, they’re in New York, can you imagine? I swear, they are the reason the market crashed but they’re the ones who are not affected. They shit money.” He said. “And the owner wants nothing to do with the radio. I’m so sorry. I tried to talk to him and tell him that your show was one of a kind and it was still number one but he didn’t hear me out. He wants to focus on the pictures apparently. Younglings nowadays, I swear… Anyways… that’s what I wanted to tell you.”
Alastor gulped. “I… My show is cancelled? The new owner doesn’t want it?”
“He doesn't. But you are still employed. Don’t misunderstand, you still work under Whittman Entertainment if you want to. I at least convinced him of that.”
“Does he know…”
“I mentioned it in your report, yes.” His -former- boss nodded. “If you want to work for him as well… you can. He said he’d evaluate those reports and get back to me but I’m sure he wouldn’t refuse you. You are one of a kind, son.”
Alastor nodded. “I understand sir…” He pursed his lips. “If there isn’t anything else…”
“Yes, yes of course, you can leave.”
Alastor left the room in a hurry. He was waiting for a promotion and he just learned that he was fired. Well, not fired, just his show. But who was he if not a radio host? He can’t just work there for the sake of it! I have no money, I’m in no position to refuse a job. But he still didn’t want to leave his comfortable corner. He had a boss who somehow didn’t care he was black as long as he made money and kept it a secret from his listeners and didn’t try any activism on the broadcast. He had his friend here, his mother was here.
Maybe I can convince the big boss, whoever it is. Maybe I can get back my radio show, maybe I can come back here, my dear corner.
Yes! He can do that! He can go to New York, talk to his boss. He can convince him. He can fix his own problems.