Wait For Me

Part 20- NOLA's Newest Radio Host

𝒜𝓁𝓈𝑜...𝑀𝑜𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝓂𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓁𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝓉𝑜𝑜. 𝑀𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓅𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝐼'𝓋𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓃𝑜𝓌. 𝒪𝒽! 𝐼'𝓂 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝒾𝒻 𝒾𝓉'𝓈 𝓉𝑜𝑜 𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑒𝒸𝒾𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑜 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃, 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝓁𝓊𝒸𝓀 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓋𝒾𝑒𝓌!

𝒮𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓁𝓎
𝒜

Alastor laughed aloud when he read the part about the dance Anthony was forced into. He had no idea if it was the traditional Italian ones he mentioned after they saw that Broadway show together, or if it was a waltz or something else along those lines. Either way, the image in his head of the blonde tripping over his own two feet as he tried his best to follow along with his dance partner was quite entertaining. The brunette for sure wanted to bring him to one of the dance halls if he ever got the chance to visit. Anthony's dancing skills were something he wanted to experience himself in person.

He frowned while reading that last line. Molly wanted to send him letters? She seemed like a sweet girl, but it wasn't as if Alastor really knew her all that well, and vice versa. What could possibly be the reason she wanted to correspond with him? He furrowed his brows. Anthony also didn't sign his name as Angel. Just 'A'. How odd.

He felt the guilt well up in him when he read the bottom of the second paragraph. He had mentioned he got bored easily in his last letter didn't he? He couldn't really blame the blonde for assuming he would tire of their conversations one day, but in all honesty, Alastor couldn't see that happening at all in the near future. Sure, maybe one day they would both move on or no longer be around, but Alastor wanted to stay in touch with Anthony for as long as possible. He wanted to hear whatever witty thoughts or sentiments the young man had, even if he had to wait two weeks to do so.

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. What had the blonde done to him? How had he affected him so in the short few weeks they spent together? They had been apart now for longer than they even knew each other, or close to it. Sometimes Alastor had dreams that he would roll over in bed and the Italian would be there, snuggled in close and Alastor would smile, wrap an arm around his waist to pull him closer, and bury his cheek in that soft blonde hair as he fell back to sleep.

He would always wake up disappointed that it wasn't real.

He glanced at his pocket watch. It was just after noon, and he had an interview at the radio station at one, which meant it was time to go. He stood up from his desk and slid his jacket on. It was a whopping ninety-two degrees outside, and the humidity was enough to make anyone feel like they were swimming through syrup. But he wanted this job and for that, he needed to put his best foot forward, which also meant dressing the part.

Particularly because when he finally received the phone call he had been waiting for – and wasn't that a waste of his valuable time, just sitting around waiting – the man on the other end spoke with a clipped and uninterested tone. Well, Alastor would show them. He was going to be an asset to this station, they would all see that with time.

He took the stairs two steps at a time and called out to his mother who was in the lounge enjoying the rare day off. "I'm off to my interview Mama! Wish me luck!"

"Break a leg dear and remember to be polite!" she called back.

Alastor rolled his eyes as he stepped out onto the porch to put his shoes on. His mother was always preaching at him to take the moral high road and be the bigger person, but the way he saw it was that if someone deserved his ire, he was going to give it to them. However, he was self-aware enough to know that that spelled trouble for him in the past – particularly with a certain blonde – so maybe just this once, he would heed his mother's advice. This was something he wanted after all. Alastor wanted the limelight, but he wanted it in a more relaxed setting, and sitting in a peaceful sound room seemed like it would be right up his alley.