[there must have been a moment, vox thinks, standing behind this scene-- there must have been a moment sometime in the beginning of their arrangement, where he must have... wondered. felt something off about alastor, something just a smidge unbalanced - but then, was that part of the draw? was that part of everything about alastor that has captivated him for so long, since they very first met?
something to think about. vox knows this, here and now: alastor is going to kill this young man, and he's going to let it happen.
oh, sure, he could dart forward and pull alastor's hands away, could very well make an attempt to save whatever life is left in the man that hasn't been bled or choked out of him already, but--well, who is this nobody, in comparison? trade his alastor's freedom for this waiter's useless life?
ridiculous. no, he's going to let it happen, arms folded, standing back and simply watching. alastor's words burrow deep into his chest and stick there, i'll never let him go and he's still going to love me particularly strongly. vox can practically feel the words pour into his heart and etch themselves against the inside of his ribs, he is mine, he's still going to love me.
well, when you're right, you're right.
vox doesn't think about leaving again, not even facetiously; no, he has to make sure the man he loves gets home safely, after all. he shifts slightly, to peer at the dying waiter; part of him hopes the man can see him flash a smile.
...he'll wait until the job is done before he speaks up.]
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something to think about. vox knows this, here and now: alastor is going to kill this young man, and he's going to let it happen.
oh, sure, he could dart forward and pull alastor's hands away, could very well make an attempt to save whatever life is left in the man that hasn't been bled or choked out of him already, but--well, who is this nobody, in comparison? trade his alastor's freedom for this waiter's useless life?
ridiculous. no, he's going to let it happen, arms folded, standing back and simply watching. alastor's words burrow deep into his chest and stick there, i'll never let him go and he's still going to love me particularly strongly. vox can practically feel the words pour into his heart and etch themselves against the inside of his ribs, he is mine, he's still going to love me.
well, when you're right, you're right.
vox doesn't think about leaving again, not even facetiously; no, he has to make sure the man he loves gets home safely, after all. he shifts slightly, to peer at the dying waiter; part of him hopes the man can see him flash a smile.
...he'll wait until the job is done before he speaks up.]
And here I was worried about you.