Under One Roof-Voxal 'roommate' fic

1. old flat

(It's night of ep 2 or smth)
It was midnight, the clock clasped its hands modestly into a line-as though praying for the souls lost in the depth of underground.
The vibrant red of the lounge was drenched in ghostly green-hallways a void of darkness, like the throat of a deep-sea animal. Light blinked occasionally in the deep end.

Alastor was in his office, a candle alight-the soft flicker cradling alastor's profile and some papers stacked neatly on his working desk.
His attire was still at the perfection of daytime work hours, not a seam undone. Vibrant red head to toe, which flattered his features in every fashion. His left ear flicked almost unnoticeably as his cuckoo clock(which bore an actual stuffed bird, headless. That's metal asf) burst through the little wooden hinges to titter out, that the time has far passed.
Adjusting his monocle, alastor put away his papers into a black metal drawer. His motion continuously flawless, as if someone might be watching. In a sense.
Then, summoning his staff-he disappeared into a whisp of black smoke, and red light lingered, for a fraction of a second-where his eye had been piercingly consulting the room.

The deer man in red appeared in a flat located far corner of the Pride, third floor of a four-story building with a ancient exterior, which was engulfed into the black night sky with no light visible in any of the curtained windows.
With a wave of the red-nailed hand, a lamp nearest to him lit.
The air was bothered, dust which hung still-like debris of shipwreck plunged into the deep sea- now flowing everywhere. But it wasn't quite right. It wasn't the same as it was when he left it seven years ago...

"Vox, dear."
Alastor tilted his neck far back, almost way too flexibly-to stare straight into a rather brand-new security camera installed forcefully into the weak wooden walls of the old building.
"If you were to invite yourself, you should have at least cleaned it."

There was a streak of neon electricity, and a figure in dark black suit materialized from thin air.
"DON'T tell me what to do, OLD MAN. It's MY place now-"
The TV head distorted as he let out the words forcefully, but a bit more quietly since, you don't wanna draw hellish creatures scawering in the abandoned area. That would be too much work.

"How immediate. What convenience-thanks to your habit of stalking people in the dark."
Before Vox could retort, Alastor continued airily:
"But sincerely, confusion arise in me-do you not own the building towering over like an overgrown metal mess~? Surely, it's large enough to offer you a room?"
Alastor raised an eyebrow, smirking absently, and jabbing vox in the chest with his microphone staff. First time in seven years, to actually see face-to-face. Or, to better put it, face-to-screen.

"-of COURSE I own a freaking bedroom, better then yours, shithead. This place is...a second."
Vox muttered the last part, since he couldn't deny that the only attraction of this dusty flat was the old, battered memories it held. How much he wanted to deny.
"...second, for...escaping the pressure of being a CEO!"
He concluded confidently. Pleased with himself for coming up with such a clever reasoning.
"Bet you don't understand that, with your little podcasts being nothing more than a brief side entertainment."

Alastor laughed lightly, but there was a bite to it. But the fatigue was making him quite dismissive.
"Enough of that, I will be paying my righteous visit here every time I find it to my convenience."
He pretended to look at his microphone, though all attention still being at the TV screen-saying it now but the sheer amount of light from his screen lit the room like five lanterns would.
"And you, dear-can get lost.'
Alastor said dismissively, turning around to head to his bedroom, which was a room located in the far west of the flat.

"What are you gonna do, fight me? Force me out? I think just summoning those unpleasant tentacles would demolish this building to ashes~"
Vox edged on Alastor's temper as he followed in his steps. His shoes making dull thuds on the carpeted floor, Alastor's making no sounds.
"However terrible the hotel rooms are, it cannot be worse than this den of a house."
The TV man became quiet again. Tripping himself over his own words spiraling behind his lips.
This ambiance, with Alastor in it-was some prickling batch of nostalgia.
He shoved the thought away by shaking his head quickly, alastor's eye twitching as the screen light got into his eyes.

"Whatever shit was done do to your room, I can't enter for God's sake-"
Vox advised in a frustrated manner as Alastor lay a hand on his old bedroom handle.
But it opened, slowly, yet quite effortlessly.
"Huh-?"
Vox stared as Alastor stepped in his room, warm light streaked across the floor like an orange carpet against the hardwood step by the door.
"Don't forget, darling."
Alastor turned to close the door, light slimming as the hinges creaked shut together.
"You're in my house."

Note
.........

Yeah thats the intro and the rest will be close to one-shot? Or not idk
So basically Vox was using Al's old apartment as his hideout after he somewhat got the heart to visit the place after the event seven years ago. And Al, since he doesn't sleep anyway he went back to his flat during nighttime for some purposes+it feels safe