(Discontinued) His Forbidden Fruit (Radioapple || Hazbin Hotel)

Chapter Eleven

   Alastor's eyes slowly fluttered open. The room appeared to be fuzzy and spinning, making the Radio Demon squint and rub his eyelids. He placed his hands beside his hips to slowly lift himself upward, suddenly freezing at the sound of quiet snoring beside him.

   Alastor slowly turned his head to look for the origin of the noise. His eyes widened and lips parted as he realized the situation he must have put himself in last night. The King of Hell had slept beside him, in his own bed, and was sleeping soundly.

   It was that blasted alcohol! Alastor realized, mentally cursing himself. He realized he needed to teleport before the possibility of him waking the sleeping angel.

   Alastor inhaled deeply, then prepared to-

   The radio demon's heart skipped a beat when he felt something warm wrap around his waist. He held his breath, desperately wishing that he would be able to escape.

  I need to leave promptly. If only I can return to my tower and sort out this whole debacle, then maybe I could- Alastor's thoughts came to a stop when he finally processed the fact that Lucifer was embracing him, still sound asleep. His breath hitched in his throat as he quickly raised his own arms, as if he had accidentally placed a hand on a hot stovetop.

   This cannot be happening. I never should have gotten drunk, Alastor scolded himself. He then teleported back to his tower, and instead of returning to his slumber, the radio demon began pacing frantically around his room, running his claws through his now frazzled bob.

   He tried to think, only he couldn't. Come to think of it, he hasn't been thinking straight much at all lately, not since he and Lucifer first shared their particularly odd positive messages towards each other. It was almost as if Lucifer was the reason for this absurdity, for this lack of order in the Radio Demon's mind.

   But could it be him? Surely some short, angry little man couldn't make a man such as himself falter at simple words and interactions.

   He is nothing to me. Lucifer is nothing to me! That small, annoying, cute little bastard! Alastor yelled internally. He approached his window, propping his hands against the windowsill to shift his weight forwards.

   The demon blinked. Wait, a what now?

   Alastor laughed, then suddenly sunk to the floor, turning and resting his back against the wall. He curled up into a ball, pulling his knees into his chest and resting his head in his hands. He kept laughing. It only grew louder and louder until he suddenly scolded himself, snapping himself out of whatever that childish fit was.

   Alastor glanced around his tower, as if searching for a tangible answer to his... well, whatever was going on with him. Clearly he was feeling out of the norm and needed to ground himself back to reality. Reality where he was a successful and powerful Overlord, reality where he did not feel any emotion towards the King of Hell.

   Alastor sighed, then rested his chin in his hands, wincing slightly at something cold and hard bumping into him. What in the world...? He questioned internally, then turned his palm face down to examine the source of discomfort.

   Alastor's breathing nearly stopped. Suddenly, his mind was silent. All he could focus on was the foreign ring adorned on his finger. He recognized the ring immediately. Why was he wearing it? How did it appear on his hand? Alastor knew he wouldn't have taken it from the king, as he had no desire to claim it for himself.

   Slowly and shakily, the radio demon reached his nondominant hand over to his other hand, gently touching the jewelry as if to make sure it was real. A sudden pang of cold met his fingertips.