━━━
I don't.
I truly, utterly don't.
I don't want to avoid Alastor.
But I don't want to be a bad person.
To this non-biological family I've harboured, to this hotel, to everyone.
Because when I've caved this deep within my feelings, I don't believe I have the willpower to crawl out.
And the fact that we live within the same premises makes this all the more impossible.
I like Alastor.
Much more than I had initially planned to. And that's what scares me the most.
I knew I shouldn't have grown so naturally comfortable around him; I truly warned myself to my core.
Yet here I am, carrying feelings so indescribably overwhelming that I mentally implode whenever I catch a glimpse of anything scarlet red.
Because any trace of red is a glimpse of the man I have fallen for, within an overflowing ocean of infatuation I drown in from the waking hour to the passing night.
Alastor.
━━━
Mimzy's attempt at forcibly lowering my work confidence by her empty words and backhanded compliments have ceased against her leave, a leave being one I cannot complain of.
I knew her feelings towards me, and it wasn't my place to sway such feelings.
I am not one to push, nor pressure what is clearly unneeded. If she doesn't like me, that's fine.
Even so, I find myself continously reminiscing on the thing's she has stated, called, or judged me for.
My profession, my appearences, anything and everything she can possibly observe.
As much as I didn't wish it hurt, these factors of judgement are awfully similiar to the way's Valentino has judged me throughout the time he and I have worked together. How he's observed me, created unwanted conclusions for me, the patchy bruises, the scars, all too much to bear.
All to layer my skin, as if I am the canvas of his ridicule.
As if my body lacks the nerves of pain to feel each mark inflicted, as if I am nothing but a bag of bone and organs.
To see such marks, permanently deepened against my body, are physical reminders of such words used against me. Similar words from my living years, to my death. To think that the words and actions which hurt me in such a way during my life, even after my death, have never stopped to inflict.
To suffer, to drown, that sickening, purple tone painting my body by the judgement of my skill. Marked against me towards my failure's, mistakes and accidents. And the human mind can only hold it's wall of protection for so long, it's persistence granted for it's will to 'win'.
Yet once that wall gains even a single fracture, it shatters.
And am I to let it shatter?
To be weak?
A frail mind with an even more frail body, bruised and battered, aching and tender?
What would become of me?
My afterlife?
I consider such. Every waking moment. What would become of me if I were to let that wall shatter, to let every word, every ache of pain, every single physical, sensory-blurring reminder of his infliction fracture my wall?
I am not the one to tell; I've resisted this much.
Yet, I am human. I feel. Pain, joy, sadness, anger, hate,
Love.
Love is said to conquer all, would it conquer these feelings? doubt? lack of belief? lack of faith?
It has conquer it this much.
And I wish there were no turning heads to such a revelation; they say to avoid him.
He is trouble, a deal maker, perilous.
Yet such feelings, unmanageable by restraint, flourishing by freedom, continue to claw for an exit to this cage I have locked them in.
For other's safety, but my own.
━━━
He sits before me, mug in hand, the hotel's balcony surrounding us as we share light conversation.
To him, this is light conversation.
To me, this is a sweet, rare moment to savour.
His grin is contagious, and my heart is pulsing.
He is most likely the last man I should ever have eyes for, knowing the legends behind this red-dressed man.
Yet, I cannot help who I love.
We're all in the same place, hell.
So who are other's to judge?
I am happy, happy within his presence.
"Alastor...?"
I begin, a line of hesitation tainting my voice as my overrun thought's take my words by a hold, something Alastor can detect so easily, it even shocks me. I cannot meet those eyes of his, so intense, they must know what plays upon my mind. His hum in response, cup lifted to his lips insinuates for my further follow-up, my throat momentarily drying before a slight exhale leaves me.
"Do you think... what I do, for work, is... bad?"
He listens, and he thinks. He thinks for what feels like hours, yet before a few moments pass, his gaze narrows.
"Very vague, dear, elaborate, will you?" The static ringing through his words dance upon my mind, spinning and twirling to such a melodic voice, my thoughts are pushed off track.
"U...Um, vulgar...? improper? I suppose," My gaze averts, struggling to conjure the exact word's I wish to place towards my query, yet everything just feels off.
And what I truly appreciate of Alastor, is how he can truly comprehend the way in which I feel towards my question, knowing what I mean, knowing how I wanted it to be conveyed, a man of true understanding.
A low, buzz of a hum leaves him, a hum of thought, his grinning gaze lowered to the table as his finger traces the rim of his mug.
"Art is the most subjective form of expression human's have been using for years, my dear, it's personal, internal-! so, who am I to say whether your form of expression is vulgar, improper, even? I promote your work, I see nothing wrong with it,"
Now, how am I meant to avoid a man like him.
I've never had a man truly lay out and explain his reasonings for his feelings with such clear articulation, drawing me in deeper and deeper by each word.
I wonder if he knows what type of effect he has on me.
I wonder how much he knows of my feelings.
His gaze is sharp, analytical.
Taking me in, breaking me apart within his mind, finding what he wants to find, the edges of his lips deepening within a grin with satisfaction.
He know's he has an effect on me.
But how strong is such an effect?
How far can he push this?
What would he gain?
All the thoughts which I don't even realise he harbours.
How far can he push this.
How,
far.
Maybe, it clicked.
Because once he completed his sentance, it's as if he saw. Saw the way I felt, the way he made me feel, the way he flicks a nerve.
Yet, even if it did click, it's not as if he would let me know such a revelation.
━━━
𝘼/𝙉 - 𝘼 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙪𝙨𝙪𝙖𝙡, 𝙢𝙮 𝙖𝙥𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙞𝙚𝙨 !! 𝙄'𝙫𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙖 𝙥𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙙𝙪𝙡𝙚 𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙮, 𝙄'𝙡𝙡 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙨 !! 𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪 !!