Infernal Rivalry - The Clash Of Vox And Alastor

Chapter 40: What Happened?

(Alastor's POV)

As I gradually emerge from the haze of sleep, a dull throbbing in my head serves as a harsh reminder of the events of the previous night. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, I find myself greeted by the sight of Vox lying beside me in bed, his presence a familiar comfort in the midst of my disorientation. This scenario is nothing new to us; too many drinks often lead to us taking refuge in the same bed, a silent agreement to watch over each other in our moments of vulnerability. And judging by the state of my pounding head, it's evident that Vox had once again assumed the role of caretaker during my bout of inebriation. As I stir, my movements coaxing Vox from his slumber, I meet his expectant gaze with a mixture of gratitude and sheepishness. It's a routine we've grown accustomed to, yet each instance serves as a subtle reminder of our shared vulnerabilities and the unspoken bond that binds us together. "Morning" I murmur, my voice hoarse with sleep as I offer him a weary smile.

"Morning" Vox responds, his voice tinged with a hint of relief at my waking. As he offers me a weary smile, I can't help but feel a surge of gratitude for his presence by my side. "Do you remember last night?" He asks.  I chuckle softly at his question, rubbing the back of my neck in a gesture of self-deprecation. "I remember bits and pieces" I admit, my tone laced with amusement. "But it's all a bit fuzzy after a certain point. Guess I had a bit too much to drink after indulging in Valentino's cigarette".  His gaze lingers on me, his expression thoughtful as though he's waiting for me to recall something specific. It's a subtle cue that doesn't go unnoticed, and I can't help but furrow my brow in puzzlement. "What is it?" I inquire, a note of curiosity coloring my words as I meet Vox's gaze with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. There's something in his demeanor that suggests he's waiting for me to remember more than just the events of the previous night, and I can't shake the feeling that there's something important lurking just beyond the edges of my memory.

Vox hesitates for a moment, his gaze searching mine as though gauging my reaction. "It's just... I was wondering if you remembered anything specific from last night" he begins, his words cautious yet tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "There were... moments". I furrow my brow in confusion, my mind struggling to piece together the fragmented memories of the previous evening. "Moments?" I echo, my tone tinged with uncertainty. "What do you mean?". His expression softens, a faint pink hue dusting his screen as he meets my gaze with a mixture of apprehension. "Well, um... we talked" he starts, his words faltering slightly as he struggles to find the right way to phrase his thoughts. "And... there may have been... a few... moments of... closeness". My heart skips a beat at his words, a surge of apprehension deep within my chest. "Closeness?" I repeat, my voice barely above a whisper as I search Vox's face for any hints of what he might be alluding to. He nods slowly, his eyes never leaving mine as though willing me to understand without having to spell it out explicitly. "Yeah" he murmurs, his voice barely audible above the gentle hum of the morning air. "But... it's okay if you don't remember. It's... it's not a big deal". I swallow hard, the weight of his words settling heavily in the pit of my stomach. "No, I..." I trail off, my mind racing as I struggle to make sense of the implications of Vox's confession. "I don't remember" I finally admit, my voice tinged with regret.

A pang of frustration flares within me as Vox's reluctance to divulge the details of our encounter leaves me feeling increasingly disoriented and unsettled. "Come on, Vox" I urge, my tone tinged with a note of desperation as I implore him to shed some light on the events of the previous night. "You can't just leave me hanging like this. What happened? What did I do? What did I say?". His response is somewhat evasive, his words carefully chosen as he navigates the delicate balance between honesty and discretion. "Oh, you know, just the usual" he replies with a casual shrug, though there's a faint edge of tension in his voice that doesn't go unnoticed. I raise an eyebrow at his vague response, a flicker of concern flitting across my features as I lean in closer, searching his expression for any signs of distress.