(Hello, this is Alternative Endings ch 1, which is I grab certain scenarios from different chapters in this book, that you pick, and change what was previously written. Like you may ask, "What if Al didn't die?" Or "What if we stayed on Earth?" Things like that. Just tell me what you want to see here or even message me privately if you want. Enjoy reading.)
As Al silently made his way to your side, he narrowed his eyelids slightly, a grin tugging at his lips. How darling you looked, sleeping soundly unbeknownst to the blade in his palm. The man always did enjoy watching you rest, the way your chest rose and fell steadily, lips parted no more than a centimeter, truly a sight. Al blinked realizing how stalker ish he seemed, frowning.
He remembers when he first met you and saw how you slept. It was obvious that even unconscious you were in pain, your eyebrows would furrow together and your hands would clench then relax every few seconds. For the first 5 months you hardly ever got a 'good nights rest' and to wake up having to deal with an entitled psychopath trying to kill you? Al didn't know how you did it.
But now?
Now, seeing you like this. It was something special. He couldn't help the smitten smile of pure adoration curve his lips up.
Once the man arrived to your bed, observing you once more, a pale hand reached down to brush a strand of hair away from your cheek that was attached to the corner of your mouth. Yes you were drooling but Al simply let out a quiet chuckle, careful not to wake you.
Lifting up his other hand, one that which help the weapon, that same smitten smile never left, he couldn't wait till you would sigh in disapproval at his yet another failed attempt.
With no hesitation whatsoever, he shoved the knife down into your throat. Black ink like blood flooded down your chest and shoulders, staining the sheets under you, your eyes shot open, though could only stare up at the ceiling, almost popping out of their sockets from how wide that were. You choked and gagged on your blood, some of which squirted out from your mouth as you desperately tried to breathe, hands went to your neck and pushed the knife out of your throat. The pain seared and burned at you, unbearable, laying there, suffocating as your blood clogged your lungs, you didn't even had the time to think of anything or anyone. Just gasping only to let more blood in.
Al stayed unmoving, smile still on, watching your sporadic movements come to a halt as the final gurgle came from you. Then it was silent. Dead silence. Your once peaceful expression was now lifeless yet still full of terror. Al's face was painted with your blood and as his eyes glimpsed down at his hands, he saw your blood on them too, his thumbs pressed against his index and middle fingers, rubbing together to feel the substance.
You're dead.
"Y/n?"
He killed you.
"Darling?"
Finally it hit him. The knife dropped down to the floor and he frantically grabbed your shoulders, pushing his hand against your throat to stop the continuous bleeding. "Hey- hey- hey- Y/n? Y/n talk to me- Y/n?! You're okay- you're okay dear- you're gonna be okay!-" his body shook with anxiety, he felt like throwing up. This can't be happening. It can't. It can't. He didn't do this. No, no, no, no, no, no- "No- No- No- No- No- I didn't- you're okay!- you're okay! Darling? Please say something-" he thrusted your shoulders toward him but your head only slung down, like a ragdoll. "SAY SOMETHING GODDAMMIT!" He screamed. After another moment of silence he wrapped his arms around the corpse, blood now all over him. He heaved and yelled while he sobbed, begging you to speak or to move. He cursed that he didn't do this, that it wasn't him. That he would never.
It was cruel. Oh so ever cruel. Your body was still warm as Al hugged you. His broken voice reassured you that everything was gonna be fine as he picked you up and placed you in the bathroom tub. Stripping off your clothes and filling the bath with warm water that soaked out the blood from your hair and skin. Going back into the room, shaking and stumbling till he leaned over quickly and threw up. "I didn't- I didn't- I didn't-" He cracked. Hauling himself off the floor wasn't easy, he felt so heavy, he just wanted to stay there and spill his guts some more but he made his way to your wardrobe, picking out some nice clothes before going back to the bathroom.
Al wanted to throw up again when he noticed your body had sunk to the bottom of the tub, it made his stomach weak. Washing you up then wrapping your throat in gauze and dressing you he sat you down on his bed in the room you had given him. A forced smile played on his lips.
"See? You're okay! I told you! You're okay!"
No answer.
Al shook, tears falling down his face.
"Y-Y/n can you please l-look at me?-" He pleaded. His leg bounced up and down. "Please- please- I'm sorry just open your eyes-" The males stained hand clasped yours in a grasp, his eyes looked at you with a craze. "I won't do it again!- I'm sorry!- Darling please! PLEASE! LOOK AT ME!" Still nothing. He screamed out till he near lost his voice, crying as he held you tight.
"I'm sorry!- I'm-" Another sob. "Please!- please!- don't go- don't go-" Al rasped. "You promised- you-"
He stayed there for days. Holding onto you and crying. He couldn't take it. His heart couldn't bear the pain. Your warmth was gone, your smile, your laugh, your confident energy, your everything. It was all gone.
And it was his fault.