Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The day his mother died was a sunny day. There was no rain to accompany his sadness, nor did a single miserable soul show up at the funeral. He himself buried his mother amid tears of sorrow and loneliness.

That same night, his 'father' David Charles arrived. He wasn't much different from how Alastor remembered; he still had that same hairstyle, still wore the same old elegant clothes, and still had that gaze full of misery.

David married his mother before he was born, but his mother was already pregnant with him. When David still lived with them, his mother spoke joyfully about their love story, how he chose her over all the girls who pursued him. Alastor remembered with annoyance how his mother spoke to David and how he responded; she spoke to him with affection and tenderness, while David saw her as if she were a ghost. David wasn't much different with him either. In that man's eyes, his wife and child meant misery.

The only time Alastor saw his father happy was at work. His father worked at a hotel for wealthy people, where he was responsible for entertaining the guests. That day, Alastor saw his father singing, dancing, leading the band, and playing all kinds of instruments. His eyes sparkled with genuine joy, his face full of life. It was then he understood his father's appeal; his androgynous face was striking with that delicate smile that drew attention; the sparkle in his brown eyes lit them up until they turned into a beautiful mahogany; even the tuxedo seemed to fit differently on his body, accentuating the curve of his small hips. He was, in every sense, a happy and free man... until he looked at Alastor, where (though his face retained the smile) he became tenser, his eyes darkening to a near-black brown, the tuxedo seeming to change to become more miserable.

That day, his father returned early, scolding him for going to the hotel. All the way home, he reprimanded him for his presence, telling him that if the guests found out he was his son, they would mock him, and if the hotel management found out, he would get fired. He made it clear that if he got fired, they would have no money, and it would all be his fault. Alastor never escaped to the elegant hotel again; David treated him more like an invisible presence.

It was one night that David left; at that time, Alastor was 13 years old. Alastor remembers that day in detail; it started normally. David left before either of them woke up, his mother got up to make breakfast, and he went to school. When he returned home, his mother was at the kitchen table, looking miserable. When he asked her, she only told him to go away. It was at night, when David returned from work, that the shouting began.

"You’re a bastard!" he heard his mother scream. "Why, why, why?"

"Because I chose him!" David shouted. "I could do it, and I did!... something I couldn't do with you."

"You lie!" his mother sounded desperate, as if she was holding back tears. "Tell me you lie! Please! Lie to me and tell me you chose me! Tell me you chose Alastor! Tell me you chose this life!" Then she started to say "lie to me" more and more broken, increasingly sad.

"For God’s sake, Astoria!" David shouted. "I hate you! I hate that bastard! I hate this life! That’s the truth!"

After that, David left. He didn't hear his mother anymore, but he assumed she was crying.

The next day, when he woke up, he saw his mother at the kitchen table. She looked more miserable than yesterday. That day, his mother didn't speak; she made food autonomously and cleaned the house like an absent ghost. She stayed that way for several weeks without David returning. Then, while having dinner, his mother told him what happened. She had gone to the hotel to visit David (it was their anniversary that day) and there she saw him kissing one of the guests. That night, his mother made him promise never to fall in love, that it was better to live without love than to live with a broken heart.

Slowly, his mother withered. She became thinner, sadder, lonelier. His mother centered her life around him. Four years passed like this. His mother died a week before he finished high school.

-- I'm sorry for your loss,-- was the first thing David said; his smile changed to one of sadness and sympathy.

Now they were in the living room of their house. Alastor still wore his best black suit, wrinkled and dirty with his tears and snot. David had a more casual suit with elegant brown shoes and black pants (which looked more fashionable than suitable for a funeral) and a long-sleeved black shirt. All his clothes looked perfectly clean.

Alastor, not wanting to show weakness, simply nodded.

-- The funeral home informed me of the death of... Astoria.-- David moved his eyes, looking uncomfortable. -- You’re still a minor and—

-- I'm 17 years old -- Alastor interrupted, slightly annoyed.

-- I know, Alastor.-- David looked directly at him, with that sympathetic smile, that gaze full of misery and sadness. -- I know there are still a few months until you’re of age, and you need a home.

-- I don't need you,-- he spat, with hatred.

--I don’t want you around either...-- he continued looking at him, the smile more tense but with more anger in his voice. --But legally, I have to take care of you. Alastor laughed; this must be a joke.

-- Do you want to play dad? Do you want to stay in this house? Don’t you have any money left?

David rolled his eyes, exasperated.

--For your information, Alastor,-- he said his name as if spitting out a piece of rotten meat, --I have a family; I have a house bigger than this old shack.-- David smiled victoriously.

Alastor looked at him, surprised.

--Listen to me, Alastor,-- he said again in the same way. Then he smiled. --You don’t need me; I don’t need you either. However...-- he paused, and Alastor raised an eyebrow in curiosity; he moved as if trying to find the right words. --I don’t want to get into trouble with child services. So just, please, let’s wait.-- Before Alastor could speak, he continued. --Believe me, you’ll enjoy that place; Lucifer is a great person, and his daughter Charlie is a sweetheart.

--Who?-- Alastor asked, not knowing if he wanted to hear the answer.

--Didn't I tell you?-- David closed his eyes, and his smile widened; Alastor didn’t know if it was from the memory of those names or the smile or silently mocking his ignorance. Then he showed his right hand; Alastor saw the golden ring. --I'm a Morningstar now.

Chapter Text

The next day before leaving their home, David was carrying some boxes of things, only saying it was a precaution to prevent them from being stolen. He also mentioned that he would give him the deeds to that small house as his birthday gift. The only good thing about that situation was that he would have that house eventually.

The drive to that temporary house was silent with a few comments from David. He sometimes talked about his new family, his partner, his new daughter (as he called her), and the behavior he expected Alastor to have in this new place. He also mentioned their new home—it was a small town secluded from everything Alastor knew, in a giant house that his new husband owned. Alastor, who had been exhausted since he woke up, just nodded. The truth was, he couldn't care less about this new place; he just wanted David to disappear. He had been much happier when he thought he would never see him again, unlike his deceased mother, who would melt with proffered love every day until yesterday.

Upon arriving, Alastor saw the town, which was quite destroyed, graffitied, and vandalized. David only mentioned that it was a bit dangerous and warned him not to go out alone to the darker areas. Then they arrived at his new husband's home. Alastor looked at it with a certain disdain. David was right; that house was bigger than the one where he lived with his mother.

-- Are you excited, Alastor?-- David asked as he took a box with some of his old belongings out of the car. Alastor shook his head, still with a look of displeasure and annoyance. David smiled, slightly angry. -- At least smile a little; you don't want to make a bad impression, do you?

David grabbed both of his cheeks, forcing him to smile. David smiled while doing it, a friendly and mocking grin without malice. Alastor frowned, trying to pull away. In the middle of this scene, the front door opened.

-- Mr. David!-- a little blonde girl ran out to him. David immediately let go of Alastor to hug the girl.

-- Charlie! How is the most beautiful of princesses today?

-- We missed you so much!

-- Oh really, princess?

-- Yes, honey." That phrase was said by a short man, pale as a ghost, in a suit even more extravagant than David's. David released Charlie and hugged the short man, then gave him a kiss.

-- Oh, darling! I missed you too.

Alastor stood there, watching the affection with which David spoke to those two people. It was the first time he had seen David so happy to return home. Alastor gripped the handle of his small suitcase, not knowing why he felt so bothered.

-- Oh? -- The short man focused his gaze on him. -- David... is that the little...-- the short man fell silent, looking at him and thinking of an appropriate term, -- guest?

-- Huh? -- David looked at him. Alastor saw the sparkle in his eyes fade and his smile tighten a little. -- Oh, yes!-- David stood next to him, placing his hand on his hair. -- This is Alastor.

Alastor looked at the strangers in front of him. They were undoubtedly family—both were blonde, both had skin as pale as paper with rosy cheeks. Furthermore, both had that cheerful and curious look, though the girl's father seemed more uncomfortable.

-- Alastor, do you remember I told you about my partner?-- Before he could speak, David continued, -- He's Lucifer, the most amazing person here.-- Then he pointed to the girl. -- And she is Charlie, the prettiest girl in this whole place.

Alastor just nodded, slightly moving his hand in an awkward wave.

-- Hello, buddy,-- Lucifer greeted, offering his hand. Alastor gripped the handle of his suitcase tighter, staring fixedly at the hand. Lucifer withdrew it after a moment. -- Is that all your stuff?

-- Yes, sir.-- All 17 years of Alastor's life were in a small suitcase, which only held a few clothes, shoes, and his mother's old radio.

-- Oh, please, don't call me sir. You make me feel old,-- Lucifer leaned down and made a strange hand motion. -- Why don't you call me Uncle Lucifer?

-- It seems informal... sir.-- Alastor smiled; he found the uncomfortable expression on David's husband's face amusing.

-- Fine. --Lucifer smiled, then focused his gaze on his daughter. -- Charlie, why don't you go show our guest his room?

-- Yes!-- The little girl tried to take one of Alastor's hands, but he kept them on his suitcase. Charlie didn't seem discouraged, so instead, she grabbed Alastor's shirt to drag him inside the house.

If the house's exterior was impressive, the inside was even more so. Unlike Alastor's house, this one was filled with antique furniture, and decorations like flower vases, small statues of snakes, rubber ducks, and plastic apples. The hallways were long, decorated with lovely photographs (many of Charlie at different ages) and paintings (landscapes, animals, fruits, etc.). It was a giant house, decorated from floor to ceiling, full of life.

-- My name is Charlie! But you already know that. Just like I know your name is Alastor!-- the little girl began her chatter. -- How was the trip? Was it uncomfortable? David's car is very comfy, but I haven't been in it that long... was it comfy for you? This is the bathroom, and my room is further down. Do you want to see it later?

Between questions, the little girl showed him her home. Alastor didn't say anything, only giving her strange looks. He had no desire to talk to someone like Charlie.

-- This is your room!-- she said, opening a door. -- Well, it's actually one of the guest rooms, but it's yours while you stay here.

The guest room was larger than his room in his old house. The room not only had a bed and a closet, but also a desk, a full-length mirror, and a nightstand next to his bed.

The girl went to the closet and opened it.

-- You can put your things here!-- The little girl saw the small suitcase, then tried to pick it up (if it weren't for the strength with which Alastor held it, she surely would have taken it). -- I'll help you organize them!

-- Don't worry, miss,-- Alastor said, placing his suitcase on the bed. He tried to sound respectful, but the last word sounded as if he were spitting it out. If the little girl noticed, she hid it very well by widening her smile even more than possible.

He thought the little girl would leave after that, but she didn't; she sat cross-legged on the bed.

-- Are you excited to be here?-- the little girl asked him.

Alastor opened the suitcase and tried to smile, which came out as a grimace. No, Alastor was not excited to be in that house. He missed his home, his quiet and solitary home, the swamp that surrounded him, even the dirty and disaster-ridden streets. And above all, he missed his mother. Since the day began, he hadn't stopped thinking about her, what she might be doing at that moment (he thought she would be cooking, but he wasn't sure). He never thought he would be in this situation and he didn't like it; he just wanted to go back.

-- No,-- he answered the girl. Seeing her bewildered face, he found it amusing, so he smiled a little. Then the little girl smiled, challengingly, which Alastor no longer found so funny.

-- Well then, I'll make you feel comfortable!

-- It's not necessary, miss...-- Alastor rolled his eyes, fed up with the girl invading his personal space.

-- I'll help you organize!-- she announced, pulling the suitcase toward her, opening it with such force and speed that she almost broke it.

Alastor watched in horror as the little girl touched his things, how she grabbed his clean clothes and his other pairs of shoes with her little hands. And he watched in horror as her filthy hands touched the old radio.

-- Oh wow, what an old model!-- the girl said, holding it as if it were any object.

-- Girl, let go of that!-- Alastor shouted, angry.

How dare that girl touch his radio like that? How disrespectful, how awful, how stupid. Hearing the scream, the girl dropped the radio; luckily, it fell onto the bed. Alastor picked it up, hugging it.

-- I'm sorry,-- the girl whispered, embarrassed and avoiding Alastor's gaze. He kept looking at her angrily, which made her feel more guilty. -- I... I'll leave.

Finally, the little girl left.

Alastor, with more delicacy than necessary, placed the radio on the nightstand, then turned it on and looked for a station with good music. He spent several hours there on the guest bed, listening to the music from the radio.

Alastor woke up startled, breathing heavily with a cold sweat. He had fallen asleep without realizing it and now didn't clearly remember where he was. It wasn't his bed; it was too comfortable to be from his house. He looked around the room: the high ceiling, the desk in the corner, the closet opposite his bed. He turned over to sleep again, just on his side, but just before closing his eyes, they focused on the girl who was only a few inches from his face.

-- He- -- the girl began. Alastor, startled, gave a small jump backward. Luckily, he didn't fall off the bed... he just got tangled in the sheets. -- -llo!

-- Oh, Miss!-- Alastor said, trying to get out of the sheets. The memories of that day flooded back in less than a second. Alastor tried to make his voice kind. -- What do you need?

-- I... I wanted to apologize...-- the girl began, avoiding his gaze as she played with her hands. -- I didn't think your radio was so important to you... -- Despite the girl's sorrowful tone, Alastor felt no remorse; rather, he felt annoyance. Annoyance at a girl who was surely just repeating what her father had told her. He was sure that after his "apology," she wouldn't talk to him again, and Alastor would be grateful for that. -- I... I just wanted us to be friends...

The girl said the last part in a thread of a voice, so soft it could have passed for a small gust of wind. Alastor was not moved by this action either. The girl seemed so bothersome with her false innocent puppy attitude. However, he didn't want to fight; he didn't need this sad little puppy to constantly beg him for forgiveness.

-- Fine, --  he answered, fed up. The girl seemed to calm down. She no longer had that look of an abandoned puppy; now she looked happy and relieved.

-- Thank you, Al!-- The girl hugged him, or at least she tried. She wrapped her small arms around Alastor's torso, and he just stayed still. Alastor felt those brief moments like a snail, clinging with its disgusting slime to its only support. Finally, the girl let go, and looked at him with a giant smile, full of hope and happiness. Alastor hate that -- Come on! Dad made dinner!

**

The dining room table was large, with several empty chairs and plenty of food on the table: two different types of salads, four completely different types of sauces, carrots cut into roasted strips, wine glasses (two of them had mineral water, the other two wine)—all served on elegant white crockery with gold details. Despite how wonderful and abundant the food was, there were only four plates.

David invited them to sit down with a look, but it didn't seem necessary. Charlie sat down with a smile, as if this were normal. Alastor hesitated; the food was too much, the place was too expensive. David smiled at him, but not with the same warmth he had for Charlie; it was more of a warning. Alastor sat next to Charlie on one side of the table. Just as he sat down, Lucifer entered, carrying a large plate covered with a ceramic lid, matching the room's crockery.

-- I'm glad you decided to come to dinner!-- he said when he saw him. Alastor just nodded, uncomfortable with everything that was happening. -- Your father mentioned that you love venison.

It was true, Alastor loved venison, but he had only eaten it once. Despite that, he didn't feel any excitement about being here; he would rather be with his mother eating anything (boiled potatoes, or dry pork) in their old house.

Lucifer sat down, removing the lid to reveal a piece of baked meat, with some vegetables as garnish. The aroma, which should have been delicious, felt nauseating; he also didn't like looking at it—no matter how delicious it looked.

They began to eat in silence, accompanied by the sound of Charlie telling David and Lucifer about her day.

-- And tell me, Alastor...-- Lucifer began, looking at Alastor. Alastor forced a smile upon the sudden attention. -- Did you like the dinner?

-- Um, yes...-- Alastor lied. The truth was, he had barely touched the food, and the little he ate made him nauseous. -- Delicious.

Lucifer gave a forced smile, Alastor was sure Lucifer was more uncomfortable than he was. Alastor guessed that David hadn't told him anything about him or his mother. If that was the case, that guy was pathetic.

-- I'm glad,-- he said. -- It took me a lot of effort to make; I don't usually cook anything that complicated.

Alastor nodded. Did he seriously think he would believe that lie? What a pathetic man.

-- I understand you're going through a difficult time. Your mother died, and you have to live with us...-- Lucifer didn't mention it, but by the way he looked at David, Alastor was sure he was reprimanding him for abandoning his old family. -- It's a complicated situation, but I want you to understand that if you want to talk to someone, we'll be here.-- Lucifer smiled at him, with a smile rehearsed in front of the mirror, false like all the gold in that place. --We're your new family, after all.

Lucifer didn't mean that, Alastor knew. It was what he was supposed to say to get along with his husband's little parasite, and there was nothing Alastor hated more than fake people.

-- You are not my family,-- Alastor said. Despite trying a polite tone with the best smile on his face, he knew the words not only hurt Lucifer, but also that girl. Then he looked at David, perhaps with that challenging or hateful look that seemed the most annoying thing all day.

After that, Alastor left with a false smile. He cared little if David got upset, or if Lucifer and the girl felt hurt by him.

On the way to his room, he imagined the conversation—a fight between David and Lucifer. Maybe David would tell him he was a kid who didn't understand, that it was a big change, and maybe Lucifer would respond that he was a nuisance. Maybe it would lead to a fight, and with luck, they would end up separating.

Upon reaching the room, the first thing he saw was the old radio. Out of everything from his home, that was all he needed. He still remembered when his mother gave him the radio as a cheap Christmas gift, the first one after David left. How that small house was filled with music, with strangers talking about political topics, with advertisements for products they could never buy. That noise replaced his mother's sad silence. Alastor touched the radio gently, almost like caressing a wounded animal with empathy, almost like his mother's caresses. Alastor, no longer wanting to confront the complicated feelings he was having, lay down. It wasn't until that moment that he realized how tired he was, and he fell asleep.