Lovers Once More - Radiostatic

Desperate Calls

The neon glow of Hell's nightlife flickered like a fever dream, casting lurid colors across the crowded streets. Inside a dingy bar, lost in a haze of booze and bitter thoughts, Vox sat hunched over the counter, his form glitching erratically. The drinks had dulled his senses, but nothing could drown out the lingering anger swirling inside him.

The bartender, a lumbering demon with too many arms, slid another drink toward Vox, though he barely noticed. His pixelated hands gripped the glass, but his thoughts were still replaying the earlier fight with Valentino.

"You really went off the deep end tonight, huh?" the bartender muttered, eyeing Vox's frazzled state.

"Just... pour the damn drink," Vox growled, not even looking up. His voice cracked with static, the glitching sounds betraying just how frayed his temper really was.

He lifted the glass to his lips, when suddenly the door to the bar swung open, and in pranced Velvette, her heels clicking against the floor with far too much energy for the hellhole they were in. She had her phone in one hand, tapping away like her life depended on it, while the other twirled a lock of bubblegum-pink hair around her finger.

"There you are, Voxxy!" Velvette called out, spotting him slumped over the bar. "I've been, like, all over town looking for you, babe. You know how hard it is to track you down when you're all glitched out like this?"

Vox groaned, pressing his glass to his forehead as if the cold would numb his irritation. "Go home, Velvette," he muttered, slurring his words just enough to make her roll her eyes.

"Uh, no? I didn't drag my cute ass out here for nothing." She clicked over to him, barely glancing up from her phone as she took a seat next to him. "Val's been blowing up my phone trying to figure out where you are, and if he finds out you're drowning yourself in this dive bar, he's gonna lose it."

"I don't care," Vox growled, his screens flickering red as he downed another shot, barely even tasting it anymore. "I'm done with him. Done with all of it."

Velvette arched a perfectly manicured brow, still texting. "Mhm, sure. And I'm supposed to believe that after, what? Like, three years of you putting up with his psycho shit? Yeah, right."

Vox shot her a glare, his form glitching violently as frustration bubbled to the surface. "Go home, Velvette," he repeated, voice harsher this time.

But Velvette just smirked, tapping away at her phone before finally locking eyes with him. "You're real cute when you think you can tell me what to do," she said with a sharp, sarcastic edge. "But I'm not going anywhere until you get your ass out of this sad bar and come back with me."

Vox scoffed, downing his drink and slamming the empty glass onto the bar. "I said I'm done, Vel. I don't need you, I don't need Val, and I sure as hell don't need your attitude right now." His voice buzzed with static, his patience wearing dangerously thin.

Velvette sighed dramatically, twirling her hair as if this was just another tedious errand. "God, you're such a drama queen. You think you're, like, the first guy to have a fight with their toxic ex? Newsflash: We all have baggage, but you don't see me getting trashed and brooding in a bar like it's some edgy music video from the early 2000s."

Vox's digital form flared with frustration, and in one swift motion, he pushed himself up from the bar and whirled around to face her. "I said **go home**, Velvette!" he snapped, his voice a sharp burst of static that made the lights flicker overhead.

For a second, Velvette actually flinched, her usual sassy exterior cracking under the intensity of his anger. She blinked, phone still in hand, but her usual flippant attitude wavered.

"Fine," she said, her voice sharper than before, a mix of irritation and something like hurt slipping through. "You wanna be a glitchy asshole? Go ahead. But when Val finds you like this, don't expect me to save your sorry ass."

Vox turned away, rubbing a hand over his face, too drunk and too angry to care. "Good. I don't need saving."

Velvette huffed, turning on her heel and stomping toward the exit, her phone already back in her hand as she typed furiously. "Whatever, loser," she muttered under her breath, pushing open the door with a loud creak and stepping out into the night.

Once outside, Velvette let out a sharp, frustrated sigh and immediately started dialing her phone. If Vox wanted to be a stubborn mess, fine, but she wasn't about to leave him to get himself killed or worse—dragged back by Valentino in whatever mood he was in.

She scrolled through her contacts, her fingers moving faster as she thought about what to do next. Valentino? Hell no. He'd just make everything worse, and she was not about to deal with his drama. But as her eyes skimmed through the names, one stood out—a last resort, but one that might actually work.

She pressed the call button, and after a few rings, a cheery voice answered.

"Hazbin Hotel! How can I help you today?"

"Yeah, cut the cutesy crap," Velvette said, rolling her eyes. "I need to talk to Alastor. **Now**."

Charlie stammered for a moment, but before Velvette could chew her out, she heard the familiar crackle of radio static over the line, followed by a voice dripping with unsettling charm.

"Well, well, Velvette, darling. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Alastor's voice came through, smooth and vintage, like an old broadcast.

Velvette tapped her foot impatiently, already regretting this. "Listen, I don't have time for your spooky bullshit. It's Vox. He's getting wasted at some dive bar, and if someone doesn't do something, Val's gonna find him first, and that's not gonna end well."

There was a brief silence on the other end, followed by a low, amused hum from Alastor. "Ah, **Vox**. It's been quite some time since we've spoken... intriguing. Very well, my dear. I'll see what I can do."

"Yeah, you better," Velvette snapped. "Because if you don't, we're all screwed." She hung up without another word, shoving her phone into her pocket as she glanced back at the bar.

"Hope you know what you're doing, Radio Freak," she muttered to herself, before walking away into the night, her phone lighting up with another notification.