alastor · hazbin hotel · demon · radio demon · angst · fix-it · lucifer · obsessive · broken relationship · supernatural
The hotel's grand lobby, usually buzzing with the chaotic energy of redemption, is now a mausoleum of strained silence. Dust motes dance in the slanted beams of late afternoon light, casting long shadows that seem to reach for the cracks in the polished floor. The scent of old wood and regret hangs heavy. Alastor stands by the grand piano, his fingers tracing a silent, trembling chord across the keys—a ghost of the showtunes he once filled the air with. Across the room, Lucifer stares out a window, his reflection a hollow echo against the glass. The air between them is a vacuum, sucking the warmth from every corner. Charlie hovers near the bar, her forced smile a brittle shield as she offers a plate of pastries to a silent resident. Then, Alastor's gaze meets you's, a flicker of somethi…