You leaned your head back against the rough tree trunk, staring up—past the multitude of tree branches—at the foggy red sky. It was smooth and featureless, cloudless and tranquil. It filled you with a sense of calm, relaxing you, making the warm tears that were flowing down your face slow.

When Angel was bitching at you back at the bar, you felt your heart melt. Something sad and broken came from it and resided in you like a stone. It burned in your chest, dripping through your veins like hot wax. It was a terrible feeling.

They were just being mean. You were trying to tell yourself that you shouldn't take their comments to heart, but it wasn't just Angel Dust and the guys at the pool table that made you feel like shit. It was that, plus literally everything else that had happened to you. Killing those kids, being murdered, coming to hell... too much.

You deserved this breakdown. A soft sob shook your body, making you shiver against the tree.

"My love?"

It was Alastor.

Although you were very tempted to, you forced yourself not to look at him. Instead, you brought the heel of your hands up to your face and wiped away the salty tears that had formed there.

"Their words didn't mean anything." His voice was getting louder, as if he was coming closer. "They have no idea what they're talking about."

"I know," you mumbled in reply, keeping your gaze adverted. Shifting so you had your thighs pulled up to your chest, you hugged your legs and placed your head in the crevice between your knees.

"Then why are you crying, dear?"

After a minute, you looked up and finally let your eyes follow the sound of his voice. He sounded—and looked—like he was actually confused about why you felt sad.

You just shrugged. It wasn't something you could explain.

Alastor walked over to you, straightened his suit, then sat down in the grass beside you. He remained silent. You did too, looking back at your feet, which were nestling into the grass below you.

Just then, you felt something on your shoulder and shivered. It was Alastor's arm. He was trying to be comforting. You almost giggled at the thought of the constantly-smiling demon trying to console you, then shoved the thought away, and it's place, the nervous feeling of butterflies in your stomach came to be. He was... touching you.

"I can skin them all alive, if you would like me to."

Your head whipped around so you could shoot a look at Alastor, who was much closer to you than you thought. Even though you were giving him a disgusted look, he just smiled. His hand was still resting on your back, still and patient.

"No, Alastor! I do not want you to do that!" you said firmly. "Just stay away from Angel, please."

His voice was quiet, but still contained his usual happy lilt. "Okay, (Y/N)."

His face was really close.

You watched his eyes. They flickered down to your lips, then back up to your eyes—and you noticed.

"If it makes any difference," he started again, keeping his tone gentle, similar to the hand that was now rubbing up and down your back in small ovals, "I don't think you're ugly, and you most certainly are not a wannabe whore."

You almost smiled, but not quite. "How do you know?" you joked feebly.

Alastor took the hand that wasn't on your back and rose it to touch your cheek, which was still wet from crying. He dragged his thumb gently under your eye, wiping at your tears.

Oddly enough, you found yourself savoring the feeling of his touch.

Then you felt the sudden urge to kiss him.

But you didn't kiss him.

He kissed you.

☆

☆ Alastor's POV, present tense

I don't know what I'm doing.

I can feel her old tear tracks under my palm, which is placed on her cheek. She initially seemed shocked with my actions, but now she has settled, and I am beginning to feel her kiss me back. Her lips taste sweet, like syrup and sugar, and they feel soft against mine.

I don't know how to make people feel better when they're emotionally stricken. Like I said, I myself don't express my emotions, so I don't know what to do when someone else puts on a show of theirs. It just isn't my best subject. Yet still, when we were in the bar and that slutty thing of a demon was letting (Y/N) feel pain in her heart, I could nearly taste the smoke that rose from the fire of rage that burned deep within me.

I wanted to do nothing other than to protect her and her feelings. It was like an instinct, an urge that I couldn't control. And it came out of absolutely nowhere.

And here I am, right now, kissing her.

I'm asexual. It's not like I sexually want her.

But I want her.

I want her, and I don't know why.

☆

☆ Second person POV, past tense

He was kissing you.

At first, you felt a jolt of something nerve-wracking but pleasant course through you and found yourself staring at Alastor, who had his eyes half-lidded and his lips pressed against yours. It was like a lightning bolt of lust, excitement, and pure shock. The demon was kissing you. Then you felt your nerves relax and you let your eyes flutter closed. You wanted him to kiss you, and upon this realization, your lips began to move as if they had a mind of their own, sinking further into Alastor's.

Alastor's hands were suddenly relocating. They both ended up on the back of your head, pulling you closer, forcing the kiss to deepen.

It felt so... passionate. You could tell that he wanted you. You wanted him, too.

His tongue grazed against your bottom lip, asking for entrance. You opened your lips a bit, letting him sink his tongue curiously into your mouth. You just kissed him back, letting yourself succumb into the blissful feeling. Your fingers found their way into his hair, and they began to tug lightly at his red locks, which only made him kiss harder.

Soon enough, you found yourself at a loss for breath. Pulling away from Alastor, you gasped lightly, then wiped at your mouth with the back of your hand. Your face was flushed from the kiss, and you felt your chest continue to shudder as you took small, nervous breaths.

"Well, that was quite something, wouldn't you agree?" Alastor chirped.

You giggled at his words, feeling uncontrollably giddy. "Yeah. For sure."

Alastor seemed to frown then, his thin eyebrows pulling together at the center of his forehead. His bright red eyes scanned over you. Still nervous and at a loss for words, you just looked right back at him.

The silence was serene. The both of you remained speechless, having a sort of staring contest with one another. And you were glad for it; you got to look at his little deer ears some more.

"What are you staring at, my dear?"

You stifled a laugh. "I'm staring at you, my deer."

"Wow! Look at you, cracking the puns. You should consider being a comedian, because you are just so funny," he said sarcastically, but his face was practically glowing with humor. That made you really laugh, and the feeling lifted your spirits through the sky. The sadness you had felt earlier seemed to vanish in thin air.

Once you had stopped laughing, Alastor stood and held out a hand to help you up. You took it, just as he spoke up again, "Would you like to go back to my place now? I'm sure I can find something good to fix you for dinner."

You frowned, keeping hold of his hand. Speaking of which, you actually were kind of hungry. "It's already that late?"

"Why, yes, it is," he grinned, "Time flies when you're having fun."