The Boy Next Door

Late visit

Alastor lay awake, his mind clouded with too many thoughts for sleep. Anthony, every thought he had. Anthony wouldn't leave his head. The brunette tossed on his side, groaning I annoyance. Why was this happening to him? Why was he so suddenly invested in him? Alastor couldn't help but feel bothered by this. His mind wandering back to his time he'd spent with him, then to the kiss. He thought about that for a long time. Because...he liked it. He liked the feeling, the thrill of it, he liked the idea of having that interaction with him.
He liked...Anthony. Alastor felt himself blank. 'Oh no, oh no no no no. This isn't happening!' He'd spent so much of that day just daydreaming about the blonde. His mind running wild with different fantasies revolving around him. It was torcher and bliss both at once. He sat up, running a hand through his hair. 'Could I be...?' He'd never had interest in anyone before. Now Anthony was all he could think about. Because he liked him. Liked, liked him. Taking a deep breath, he pulled his knees up to hold them, just needing to grip onto something in this moment in time. As much as it was good to acknowledge these feelings, it hurt. Wanting something so badly, but never being able to have it. Anthony was out of his reach, in society's eyes, and his own. It would never work out. Not in a world that wouldn't allow them to be together. It's not like Anthony wants him too.

Anthony sat on his bed for the first time in days, staring out his window at Alastor's house. It felt so good to finally tell someone else about his illness, but now what? He knows, what if that's changed the way he sees him. What if he finds out the way he actually felt towards Alastor. What was he even thinking, Alastor isn't like that. Yes they kissed, and he liked it. He liked Alastor. But he could never be with him. Alastor was testing the waters, it meant nothing...right? Even if they were to be together, what did Anthony have to offer him? Alastor had a perfect life, a well paying job, a family that cared about him. What could he ever give him? Emotional baggage, and that's it. It's not like Alastor even wants him too. Carefuly laying back, feeling the burning that came with any contact the bed made with his skin, slowly adjusting to the feeling. At least it was getting better. Not nearly as bad as the previous nights.

Alastor woke up midway through the night. Looking around the house. "Somethings wrong." He said under his breath as he slowly got up. Walking quietly to his door, Alastor swore he could hear something. Slowly walking down the stairs and too his front door. Opening it very quietly. He saw no one at first, before his eyes settled on the woman standing in the streets, staring up at the sky. "Rosie. It's a bit early for rituals, wouldn't you agree?" He asked, stepping into the porch. Rosie turned to look at him. "Good morning Alastor darling. Yes, some may consider this early. I would say it's perfect timing." She said, lifting her skirt a little so she could walk over. "And why on my street? Why not closer to your own home?" He asked, cocking a brow. "It was more personal, something to do with you. May I be so rude as to invite myself inside?" She asked. Alastor stepped away from the doorway so she could walk in. "These little protections don't last forever. I'm simply doing the ritual again, it would be dreadful if that little entity of yours came back. Wouldn't you agree?" Turning to face Alastor, a smug yet serious look on her face. "And I see Anthony's family is back." She said, motioning to the direction of their home. "No, we wouldn't want it back. And yes, including Anthony himself. It's very nice to be able to see them all the time, they arrived here on Wednesday. Rosie smiled, sitting down on a chair, looking up at him. "That's so nice to hear. You always had a soft spot for Anthony. Nice to know he'll be back in your life. How is he?" She asked. Of course Rosie had met Anthony before. She took care of Alastor for a long period of his childhood since his mother was so busy, and the absence of his father. And it was a noticeable difference in character when Alastor had finally made a friend. Alastor shrugged, pulling up a chair to sit aswell. "He's different. Clearly went through something in the time in between. He's...um, confusing...but in an intriguing way." Rosie cocked a brow, looking the brunette up and down. "And has he come to grips with where his attractions are?" She asked. Alastor was caught of guard by that. Looking over at her. Eyes wide in shock. "How did you...?" Rosie gave a quiet laugh. "Oh Alastor darling, I just know these things. I have a knack for telling." She said cheerfully. "And what of you? What are your opinions on the matter?" She asked, leaning in a bit on her seat. Alastor shook his head. "Rosie, whether or not I have any feelings for him is both far to personal, and highly inappropriate." He said quickly. Rosie stared at him wide eyed. "Alastor my darling, my child, my friend....I never said anything about you having feelings for anyone." Alastor quickly froze up. "You didn't?" He said quietly. The most excited look crossed Rosie's face, along with interest. "Well, you've said it now. Do you have feelings for him?" She asked. "I- he-....maybe?" He said, Alastor was normally very confident. But here he still hadn't an idea what any of this meant. "Oh Alastor! I'm very happy for you! Look at you, all grown up and in love with your best friend." Alastor quickly stood up. "Hey. No one said anything about...that. Anthony is just, some infatuation. He doesn't feel the same." "Does he?" "And this will all pass." Alastor said quickly. Rosie gave the brunette a once over. "Does he not feel the same? You've discussed this with him?" She asked. Alastor shook his head. "No Rosie I haven't. I just, Even if he did what would we do? We can't go anywhere with these sorts of things, if we were. I would be ruined." Rosie giggled a bit at that. "Yes yes, because you're habits as a serial killer do wonders for your social standards." Alastor rolled his eyes, looking down at her. "That's different." "Is it though? Both are illegal, and incredibly risky. And can be punished with both prison, death, or being marked as mentally ill." She said, confidence very clear in her voice. Alastor shook his head, sitting down again. "Rosie, I don't want to loose him, not again. This would ruin everything. Anthony has clearly had an issue with this before. I don't want to make it worse for him."

Anthony slowly sat up, it was late and he knew that. But he got up anyways, walking down the stairs to the kitchen. Anthony checked behind him before taking to painkillers down. Taking two and moving to the front porch, lighting a cigarette for himself and sitting on the steps. It was quiet out, nothing short of beautiful. He looked to the side to see Alastor's lights on. That was strange, why was he awake? Or maybe his mom was awake. Could be either one. After a few minutes Alastor walked out with a woman. Anthony ducked into the house quickly, just peering out to see them. She nodded at Alastor and walked into the street. Alastor shutting his front door. Once Alastor had turned out his lights, she snapped her fingers. Suddenly a shadow like entity appearing behind her. Anthony went stiff, staring at it. It looked like the woman, but distorted in a way, with deep pink eyes. She turned to face it, probably saying something to it before it disappeared into the shadows the night brought. She began walking away down the street. Anthony felt a chill up his spine. Shutting his door and backing away into the home, finally being able to breath. "What...the fuck...was that..."

Alastor sat by the window for a moment, watching as Rosie summoned her shadow, it then vanishing again. It was interesting to watch a professional, and see what he could have had. Keeping his eyes fixed on Rosie, Anthony's house coming slightly in the way of his line of vision, he noticed something. The front door slamming shut. He didn't think anything of it though, Rosie was careful, no one would see her. Turning out the lights and walking back to his room, checking the house one more time. This was a common practise, re-sealing it away. Even if he wished he could have had one as well. Rosie knew more than him when it came to voodoo, and he wasn't about to mess with something he didn't understand, not again.