Complicated and Sad \\ RADIOSILENCE

[13] - Stress

(CW: mild self-inflicted harm[trichotillomania I believe? Hair pulling/ripping hair out], angst, blood)

📻 ┃⤷ Alastor's POV

"-replace your screen..."

Alastor's voice trailed off as Vox shut down, his body going limp and screen blank. Alastor knelt down next to the couch, letting out a frustrated groan and gently hitting his head repeatedly against the cushion of the couch.

He had no idea how to replace a god damn television screen, and he wasn't sure if Vox had a manual or not. He sat there for a moment, frustration and anger boiling in his chest, his hands tightening into fists. He eventually stood up, setting the new screen down on the floor and pushing the couch back to make room. He then picked up Vox and laid him on the ground, where Alastor could more easily get to his head.

Alastor then sat there, staring down at Vox's broken screen. The blood was drying, and the glass shards were cutting into the sides of Vox's head. Alastor let out a heavy sigh, knowing Vox would wake up with a terrible migraine.

He stood up and went to his room, changing into more comfortable clothing, then walked into Vox's room to find anything that would be helpful. He looked for 20 minutes, finding a few tools and finding a manual that he only hoped was for Vox's head. He rushed back out to the living room with what he had found, laying them out on the floor next to Vox.

As he knelt down next to Vox, his mind raced. How was he supposed to do this when he barely knew how to do it even with Vox's guidance? What if he messed up? This was Vox's screen, his face, messing up could mean death for Vox.

His breathing sped up quickly, but he ignored it as he began to cautiously pry Vox's shattered screen off his face. The sound of the glass cracking was almost sickening, and Alastor's stomach felt as if it were swirling as he finally pulled the shattered screen away.

He set it to the side, looking down at the open hole in Vox's head. He stared at the wires and the black goo (which he hoped was just blood) that was everywhere in his head. Alastor cursed to himself and grabbed a small towel, standing up and rushing into the kitchen and running it under the faucet. He wrung it out, running back out to the living room and landing on his knees next to Vox again.

He began to cautiously clean the inside of Vox's head, his ears twitching from anxiety. He hadn't felt this way in decades- heart racing, hands shaking, a feeling of fear. Alastor tried his best to ignore it, but the shakiness in his hands made it hard to avoid bumping something he knew he shouldn't touch.

He pulled his hands back and took a deep breath, his ears trembling for a moment. He took another deep breath and reached back into Vox's head, quickly cleaning the rest of the blood and then tossing the towel to the side.

Just one last step, then it's done.

Alastor looked at the new screen, holding his breath for a moment. He reached out and grabbed it, his hands shaking as he looked down at it. He looked back at Vox, then set the new screen in place, aligning it with the frame. He then grabbed the manual and began flipping through, finding the page with the instructions on changing a screen.

He felt his heart race more, and his vision began to blur slightly. He tightened his grip on the manual, but when it got worse he threw the manual to the side and yelled out in frustration.

"Fucking hell! God, why am I being so stupid?!!"

He sat back and ran his hands up into his hand, his claws tapping on his scalp as he stared at Vox. It was the simplest task ever, follow the instructions and it would be fine. But the dread continued to gnaw at him, the feeling sinking deeper and deeper in his chest. Alastor didn't know what was so damn scary about this, it wasn't like he cared that much about Vox. Why would he? Vox was just a stupid television.