cupid clearly hates me.

[ 35 ]

[ ISBSHOCKENE IM SO EXCITED! THE HAZBIN HOTEL PILOT COMES OUT IN LIKE ONE WEEK NHGGGYS— ]

☆

"Are you feeling better, darling?"

You nodded.

But it was a false nod. A lie. Could a nod be a lie? Were nods even real? Did they actually mean anything, in the context of the human language?

You didn't want to think about it too much.

Whatever the case may have been with the nodding situation, you weren't feeling better, but you let off that you were, because you didn't want Alastor to worry.

Furthermore—was this even Alastor, or was Alastor lying on the ground, yards away, dead?

You were afraid to talk to... Living Alastor... about it. What were you supposed to do, ask him if he was actually himself?

Whether that was true or not, it wouldn't matter. He would say that he was himself, no matter who he—or she—was.

You were also scared to approach the dead body. You and Living Alastor had been sitting around for almost five minutes. Clearly, Alastor was growing impatient. Maybe you could just insist on staying here and eventually wear him out. Maybe he would spill something.

"Come on. We can start a fire and make some tea, maybe even play a game of chess," he said, giving you far too gentle of a smile for the amount of frustration that was clearly blazing behind his eyes.

A bit of your heart withered away.

Alastor never drank tea; he drank coffee. Black coffee, exactly the opposite of what you liked. Or orange juice. You knew that because of the numerous times he had drank those in front of you; at breakfast, at home, by the fire.

This wasn't Alastor.

Alastor was...

"He's dead."

Living Alastor—or was it Lilith?—must have seen the realization on your face, because they frowned. It was almost—not quite, but almost—nervous. "Who's dead, my love?"

"You—Alastor is! Stop fucking with my head, I know you're not him!" You sprung to your feet, shooting him a piercing glare that not even a thousand angry words could describe.

"You need to lie down. I'm afraid you've really hurt your head," he observed with a dramatic sigh. "I presume your hallucinations haven't gone away?"

"They're not hallucinations!"

But even as you stood your ground, you couldn't help but consider the fact that they might be. Your head was pounding something gruesome, after all. The fuzzy distortion had mostly melted away from your vision, but every few seconds, a pang darted through your skull, sending you dizzy.

"I've had enough of your argumentative attitude," Alastor said, his hair whipping through the air as he turned to face you. "You've had your time to wind down, now we need to leave."

Again, not something that the real Alastor would have said.

You didn't have much time to decide what to do. You could insist on staying put, but would Living Alastor leave without you, or force you to come? Or would he stay?

There was always the choice to go with him, but at this point in the game, that wasn't even close to being an option.

Fight.

The word popped up in your head, as if it had actually appeared in the air before you. With it came a spark of adrenaline that made your body feel weightless. You stared at Living Alastor, at his fiery red eyes and his wrinkle-free pinstripe suit. It was almost as if he really was Alastor.