cupid clearly hates me.

[ 42 ]

Burnt wood. Fake cinammon. Laundry detergent.

His blankets smelled like him, that was for damn sure.

You had been rolling around in Alastor's bed, thinking about nothing but the conversation you and him had just finished, for about ten minutes. You couldn't stop thinking about it to save your life.

He had tried to explain himself. He had told you about his past... which was something you never thought he would do, especially considering the fact that he was so defensive about his mom when you asked him about her that one time at dinner.

You sighed and stared up at the ceiling. If you blinked too much, or even just took too deep of a breath, you knew you would burst into tears. That's how on-edge you felt.

Before you could even think about running off to give Alastor a proper apology, you had to script out everything that you were going to say. It would help you feel less... nervous.

So you decided to take a hot shower. In Alastor's bathroom.

That way, you would have some extra time to think.

And you could smell his shampoo. In a non-creepy way.

☆

☆ Alastor's POV, present tense

It's actually a good thing that she's back in hell.

I always had a feeling that she was pure of heart; ever since the first day I met her, I knew it was true. Then there was Rosie, Adam and Eve, Lucifer and Lilith to reinforce my suspiscions.

But maybe I was wrong.

Maybe we all were wrong about her.

Maybe people like her can change. Maybe good people can become bad, and bad people can become good.

Maybe there is no defining line between good and bad. It's possible that we're all just... people.

Who really knows?

I glance down at the chess pieces sitting before me, motionless as ever. They all look so small and feeble, and I suppose they are, given the fact that they're inanimate.

One flick of my finger and they would all go tumbling, no matter what color they are. Light or dark, one nudge and any one of those pieces could go clattering to the floor.

No matter what side they're on, they always fall at some point.

I let my eyes unfocus as I start to zone out, whic is something that I don't do very often because I like to stay alert of my surroundings. Suddenly, my memory begins to backtrack like a broken record, and I'm reliving the day when I recieved Charlie's note.

It was the day I had first taken (Y/N) to my house. Charlie had left a little envelope containing the note and a rose on my front porch.

The note has been hanging on the billboard in my office to this day.

Sometimes, I wonder if (Y/N) saw it when she snuck in there.

'𐤋𐤄𐤕𐤇𐤄𐤓𐤂𐤏'

"Let her go."

I tried to.

☆

☆ Second person POV, past tense

"It's okay."

You wrapped the towel tighter around your dripping-wet figure, staring into the mirror that was foggy with steam. Your eyes looked strangely more purple than usual, shinning in the moist air with vivaciously unnatural pigment.