PANICKING

Book at the gates pt. 2

Oh, look... A part 2... wow... *spits out tea HOLY COW IS THAT A YANDERE ST. PETER X ALASTOR?!

With a slightly crazy look in his eyes, he slammed the book shut, and murmered: "He is mine... I won't let anyone in Heaven or Hell take him from me...!" *insert evil laugh*

----

Alastor sipped some tea from his cup. He didn't quite like tea, but it was about the only thing allowing him to stay calm... Or at least act calm.

Every time he glanced at a rooftop he saw that wierd gate angel. St. Peter, if he remembered correctly, and a feeling of unnease worse than the one he already presented would creep over him.

He simlpy couldn't relax.

There were various reasons:

1. Is this all just a dream?

2. Did Charlie make a memoriel for him as she did for Sir Pentious?

3. Do they even know he died?

4. If yes to the previous question, do they actually care? Are they happy he's gone?

5. Did they just move on?

6. Is the hotel doing okay?

7. Are his friends doing okay?

8. Did they look through all his things and find every object he's been hiding?

9. Did they just pretend to be nice and secretly hate him?

10. Was he going to be alone forever?

11. Would he be able to apologize to his mother?

12. Was his mother even here?

13. Why were the angels being so welcoming?

14. AND WHY THE FUCK IS ST. PETER STALKING HIM?!

Alastor had to admit that his mental condition had... Changed, to say something, since he had gotten here.

The fact was that he no longer felt obligated to wear a smile, his soul was free, and he could do about anything he wanted... Well, anything not involving violence. Violence, his main form of entertainment. In the past.

Despite all this, however, he was glad that all of his mental illnesses, pain, trauma, etc, had gone away. And he no longer felt sad or even hurt... Not even scared. Just strangely calm and happy, with a slight bit of paranoia towards St. Peter. He was even beginning to get used to the changes in color and scenery. It reminded him of earth, but perfect. A perfect version of earth.

It was kind of nice, he had to admit. But how did he even deserve to come up here?

He was jerked rather politely from his thoughts by a tap on the shoulder from Emily.

He cocked his head to the side. "Yes?"

Emily just nodded St. Peter's way. "He's been watching for three whole days..."

Alastor nodded slowly, and took a sip of tea, something he was beginning to get used to.

"Yes, I have observed. Why is that?" Alastor asked.

"No clue, but Sir Pentious invited you to his house!"

Alastor raised an eyebrow. "Why?" "He's lonely." "Fair enough."

Alastor stood up, paid the waiter as kindly as he could, and got on his way, utterly aware of the angel watching him.

He began to hum as he made his way through the streets, walking through any place without many 'winners.'