Complicated and Sad \\ RADIOSILENCE

[17] - Lines

(TW: self harm, blood/gore, heavy angst.) This chapter does not have any specific relevance to the next chapter, so if any of these trigger you feel free to completely skip this one. This chapter is mainly to show that Vox is struggling too, but to also grow his and Alastor's relationship a bit more and add a new level of understanding between them.

I will put 💙💙💙 before the event happens, and 💙💙💙 once the most triggering part is over with. There will still be gore and mentions, but the action will be finished after the second set of blue hearts. ‼️Reminder‼️ that the majority of the chapter will be heavy angst

If you are struggling with self harm yourself, please reach out to a hotline or go to a website for help. You are not alone, and you deserve the help you need to heal. Stay safe everyone <3

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📺⌇➴ Vox's POV

The past few weeks had been more than stressful for Vox. They had been tiring, frustrating, and even upsetting.

Valentino had been getting more demanding, but had also been getting a bit too comfortable around Vox. As much as he enjoyed the occasional sexual thrill, he felt like he was betraying Alastor in a way... even if Alastor didn't love him back.

Work had been chaos, with business beginning to drop. Vox had to begin production on the newer models, and the designing and programming was getting so exhausting.

What was even worse... someone had found out about his past- how he died, and what he used to do- and they leaked it to all of Hell, causing a mess for Vox and his crew to clean up.

To make matters worse, Alastor had been out more often lately, killing and obtaining souls, which left Vox completely alone with his thoughts.

None of this was good. He felt so damn awful, so frustrated, so exhausted, so... depressed. And he was alone.

He hadn't gotten the chance to tell Alastor, but he also hadn't tried to. He didn't want to burden Alastor with the weight of his problems, he knew Alastor was dealing with irritating business of his own.

But the emotional pain felt terrible. It felt like it was crushing him, like he was drowning in an ocean of his problems, each one worse than the last.

He sat up from his bed, looking around his dark room. He had no ways of coping- none that were healthy, at least. His only ways of coping were destroying things or sleeping all day, but he couldn't destroy the apartment- and Alastor didn't like when he slept all the time.

💙💙💙

He remembered an old habit he had as a human, one that hurt like hell but relieved the pain. He pushed the idea away, knowing it wasn't a good idea. But it crept back into his thoughts, almost pushing every other thought away as it screamed in Vox's head.

Do it. You'll feel so much better.

Vox sat still for a moment, then he let out a groan and stood up, walking over to his desk and opening the drawer, pulling out a box knife and pushing the blade up, staring at it. He looked over at a mirror on the wall across the room, his reflection showing someone he didn't know.

He looked down at his arm, then lifted it in front of him, holding the blade against it. His hand began shaking slightly, every inch of his body telling him not to, but the thoughts telling him to go through with it.

In one quick motion he swiped the blade back, slicing a straight, clean cut into his arm. It began to bleed slightly, his black blood showing but not running, the cut not deep enough to drip blood.