Your Star (Vox x reader)

24

The elevator doors slide open with a ding, catching my immediate awareness. One step after the other, I peel my glued feet off the elevator and onto a different floor of the Vee Tower— where my temporary bedroom is located. After I had been dismissed from work early, I fell short of an idea to pass the time. I considered returning to my apartment for some of my things or even de-stressing at a bar, but I knew better than to risk upsetting Vox any more than I already had. So, to prevent anything of the such, I settled upon the decision to stay where I was.

I take up a slow pace as I wander the halls absentmindedly. There is no specific destination I desire to end up in— I'd rather let nature take its course. While I roam my overwhelmingly spacious surroundings, a recent and unwanted conversation with Velvette pesters the depths of my mind. As sick and tired as I am from thinking of Vox, I can never seem to shake him off. Someone like him should hardly occupy so much space in my brain, let alone any, but there's no point in fighting to avoid the inevitable anymore. He has a way with manipulation, and to my misfortune, I'm among the many souls who have fallen prey to that scheme. I release a sigh of pent-up stress. There are far more important things to be worrying about, such as the upcoming extermination. With Charlie Morningstar leading a rebellion against heaven, it's a true mystery as to what the future of hell may hold. Succeeding is always a possibility— an unlikely one, though. The alternate outcome would leave all sinners dead. Even being here with the Vees for when it happens, I know my safety isn't guaranteed. The extermination is two days from today, but I've never been one to think ahead. I always preferred dealing with problems as they came, so I suppose I'll continue along that easy path.

I turn a few corners, each hallway looking identically expensive as the last. On another note, I've been thinking about my visit to the Hazbin Hotel, more so, who I spoke to. One in particular made an impression on me: Alastor. Even through that one interaction, I perceive him unlike anyone I've ever met. Hell is brimful of unusual personalities, but his case was a true enigma in my eyes. Of course, I'd expect nothing less of the Radio Demon. I know of him— enough to understand he's not to be trusted. That said, I don't regret declining his deal in the slightest. Owing him something as vague as a 'favor' leaves room for endless possibilities. I may have been fooled by sugar-coated words once before, but I've learned that a deceitful grin can conceal one's true intentions. Alastor won't make a second fool out of me.

Even if he sincerely wanted to break me out of the chains of my deal, the offer was only made after I mentioned having connections with someone he so clearly despises: Vox. I have no doubt any deal I'd struck would be at his cost. It may be the weakness talking in me, but I just can't bring myself to stab him in the back— not after that one euphoric night still engraved in my memory. Honestly, it's pathetic. Had the roles been reversed, he'd likely do whatever option was in his best interest, not bothering to grant me even a sliver of remorse. 

If only I weren't so addicted to his attention and validation— it's my worst drug, such unaccustomed praise. I've once again denied a chance at freedom almost entirely for his sake, and he's not even aware that I've done so.

Having been swarmed with thoughts, I didn't recognize the wall rapidly approaching. Consequently, I walk smack into the hard surface, letting out a reflexive grunt on impact. I backtrack a few steps and raise my narrowed vision to see what so rudely interrupted my train of thought. In front of me stands the outline of what appears to be a door— there are no handles, so I assume it's automatic. The frame is circular, oddly enough, but that aspect isn't what bothers me. Painted over the door in clean, red strokes is the VoxTech logo I've grown to despise, indicating whatever lies behind belongs to Vox himself. 

A surge of confusion has my head tilted to one side. If I'm honest, the door feels misplaced among the otherwise identical doors in this hallway. For it to be here, there must be a viable reason. I peek over each shoulder to ensure my solitude. There's no harm in looking around— I need to satiate this aching boredom somehow. So, I reapproach the door with furrowed brows, questioning how to trigger it open. My hands brush over the metal surface as they search for an access point, perhaps a skillfully hidden button. Abruptly, the doors part into two and reveal a large room waiting on the other side. Whatever my mindless attempt was, against all odds, it resulted successfully.