The Way We Once Were

Chapter 2: Insult To Injury

"Alastor?"

You felt your voice crack under itself due to your shock, but you didn't care—'Alastor was here?? of all places.? Hadn't he been long gone?'  Truth be told, you and Alastor knew each other in life—rather well, for that matter. You'd met at the club Mimzy and you would perform in, and subsequently became part of the same circle—all being performers and whatnot. When you read about Alastor's death in the paper, it shook you to your very core. Not because he had been shot and killed, but because of what was revealed when he died. A mass serial killer and suspected cannibal. Needless to say, every interaction you'd ever shared with him was put into serious perspective. Frankly, you weren't sure if any of it was real—the long walks home, the late nights, sitting and admiring the broadcasts that he 'only let you' watch. 'He was probably just trying to get you comfortable so he could kill you.'  Alastor's eyes visibly brightened, the shadows around his face becoming illuminated with a stronger red glow.

"Y/n!" He thrilled, putting his hand out, grabbing yours, and pulling you into a tight hug. You could barely process what was happening.

'Definitely still him. Blatant disregard for personal space.'

All things considered, and as much as you didn't want to admit it, you really needed a hug. And the fact that you had known him somewhat intimately in life made it even harder to resist. Pulling away, he smiled down at you, clearly very entertained.

"Well, this is unexpected! What a treat it is to see you again, my dear!" He chirped, his voice high, like he was actively broadcasting. "Tell me, how long have you been in hell?"

The question took you a little off guard. Hell, this whole situation caught you off guard. You weren't sure if he genuinely wanted an answer or was just asking to get a rise out of you. You glanced back over at him to attempt to decipher his intent. He idly looked at you, his hands folded neatly behind his back. You'd yet to see Alastor in person in hell. You knew of his reputation and how he 'looked.' But nothing really compares to the real thing. He had all the same facial features he had when he was alive. Large eyes, smooth skin—though now it was a more light charcoal color rather than a deep mocha—you wondered why that was for a heartbeat. Continuing to scan his features Your eyes drifted up towards his ears; you had to force them back down for fear of smiling. You also wondered for a moment how pissed he was when he first manifested here to have acquired such a wholesome feature. Tapping the microphone at the end of his cane, he cleared his throat.

"Hello? Is this thing on? Testing, Testing?"

You lowered your head, trying not to roll your eyes. You genuinely didn't want to find out what happened when you pissed him off.

"I was thirty-four when I died."

"And yet you don't look a day over 20! I imagined that to maintain such a youthful appearance, you must have died shortly after me,"

He wondered aloud.

'Youthful?'

"Ah! Well, if you've come here, surely dear Evangeline is with you?"

You felt your blood boil hot to your face, and you glared upward into what you presumed was his shit-eating grin.

"Fuck you."

You hissed out without thinking. Alastor's smile became tight, and his eyes narrowed.

"Such language is unfit to pass a lady's lips."

His tone didn't shift, but the air sure did. Feeling angry tears prick your eyes, you shifted your gaze away by turning your head.

"You don't need to rub it in; if you need entertainment, go find it somewhere else."

Alastor merely looked at you, tilting his head.

Oh,

guilt wracked your senses for a moment. You were used to assuming the worst; how could you not?

"Sorry-" You breathed, still not maintaining eye contact. "I thought you were trying to..." You trailed, not really knowing how to finish that accusation. "But- that's why I'm here. She-...was killed during the last extermination."

You knew your speech was a little fragmented, but it was the only thing that was keeping you from losing your composure.

"Ah, I see.."

Alastor searched your features, his smile falling a little.

"That is a true shame; she was a wonderful performer in life, and I know you two were close."

You weren't at all expecting him to be so- genuine. 'What was he playing at?'

The two of you continued to make eye contact; you weren't sure what to say. His smile became more genuine for a moment.

"It is truly good to see you again, Y/n. Although I never hoped you'd end up in hell, that didn't stop me from wanting to see you."

You felt your firsts clench and your face heat up.

'He has a lot of nerve to continue to toy with you and act like he has any semblance of care for you, and you had a lot of foolishness to want to believe him.'

"Right."

You responded coldly, refusing to look him in the eyes. There was an icy silence before he chirped:

"Well, my dear, I see you're quite drained! I'll leave you to settle!"

Alastor's softer tone shattered back to his typical performer's bellow as he walked out the door. Once it closed behind him, he found a smile creeping up from ear to ear, a deep predilection behind his eyes.

'What an entertaining endeavor!'   His mind reeled. There were so many questions. 'Why on earth was she being so cold towards me? And what a shock it was to have someone treat me in such a way! That fire in her chest never did die; what a relief! '

He liked a good challenge, though deep down, a part of him didn't want to acknowledge was that his heart was racing, completely full of adrenaline at just the sight of you.. even deeper down he was disheartened at the way you were treating him. You're close in life—very close. In truth, you were the closest he had ever gotten to a woman.

What happened? And why, on earth, we're you in hell?