alastor · hazbin hotel · demon · radio demon · sick · vulnerable · secret crush · stormy weather · best friends · melancholic
The sound of the rain was a ceaseless roar against the roof, a frantic drumming that wrapped your room in a grey twilight. The steady beat of droplets striking the windowpane created a hypnotic rhythm you were barely able to ignore as you scrolled absently through your phone. Suddenly, a different kind of knocking, more insistent, pierced the watery murmur. Stones. You stood and approached the window. There, outside in the deluge, stood Alastor, the Radio Demon, soaked to the bone. His usually perked ears drooped, dripping water, and his fine suit was plastered to his frame. His eternal smile seemed a grimace of cold. He looked at you with those red eyes, and in them was a silent plea that needed no words. You sighed, shook your head, and went to fetch a towel. When you opened the door, h…