cupid clearly hates me.

[ 18 ]

"Can we go home?"

Alastor glanced down at you. His eyes were sparkling with deep thought. "Of course, my love."

After the incident with Rosie at the bar, Alastor walked you to a nearby park so you could both take a moment to... think things through. It was odd that such a quiet garden like this one existed in a place as rambunctious as hell. It wasn't a park for children—no playground material was in sight and, come to think of it, you hadn't seen any kids in hell yet—but it was a quaint, old-fashioned area. Nothing but a small patch of grass housing a couple of rickety wooden benches, a stone fountain with mini waterfalls trickling down in a gentle current, and red and black flowers sprouting out of every crack in the dirt.

Alastor stood up quickly. Before you could rise, he reached over and plucked a thorny black rose out of the seemingly dying rose bush that was growing right beside your bench. He helped you up from your seat with his empty hand, like the gentleman that he always was, and then handed you the rose.

"Watch out," he cautioned as you reached for it. "Every rose has its thorns."

Careful not to prick your finger, you took the rose from his grasp. "Thank you," you replied with a sweet smile.

"Any time, my love," Alastor gave you a charming wink. It made your heart flutter a bit in your chest. "Now let's head home. I can imagine you must be tired from all of the walking we've done."

You shrugged, stepping forward as Alastor began to walk beside you. "A bit." You hesitated then, chewing on your next words before you were sure of what you wanted to say. As you stared down at the dark rose in your hand, your mind was still toiling over the many things Rosie had said and done. The killing, Azathoth, Jack, her offensive introduction... and when she called you pure. Just thinking about the bottomless pits of her black eyes made your stomach twist and your shoulders tense. But all you said to Alastor was, "I'm sorry for making Rosie mad."

"It wasn't your fault. She can have a short temper at times."

"Is she jealous of me?" you blurted.

Alastor's smile didn't flicker for so much as a second. You were looking up at him with curious eyes, waiting for what answer he could possibly give. He returned your question with one of his own, "What does she have to be jealous about?"

You kept staring at Alastor and let one of your eyebrows float upwards. You were obviously referencing him.

Rosie might be jealous of you and Alastor because she is friends with him. You, as a girl, might 'steal' him from her. Earlier, Rosie had been very snippy. She seemed unnerved to have met you and did make it clear. It wasn't that she seemed like a jealous person—Alastor and her seemed like they had a nice friendship. Plus, she supposedly has feelings for that Azathoth guy, but something still seemed off. Maybe you were just overthinking it because you actually cared about her opinion, for some reason.

"No, don't be silly," Alastor said, pulling you out of your analytic thoughts. "Her and I are only friends. I may be important to her, but she knows I would never cut off our friendship for anyone. And I'm sorry to say it, but that includes you, my dear."

You glanced down at your shoes and watched your feet press against the concrete sidewalk with each step. You were approaching the forest, which you going to have to (grudgingly) enter again to get to Alastor's house. The rose was still pinched between your fingers, its delicacy yet to be harmed.

"I just don't want her to hate me," you muttered.

"She doesn't hate you, but she might think you'll get in the way of our business."