Chapter Text
August was hot as usual in Virginia. Alastor got out of his home and fixed his tie as a reflex. Just when he was walking to his car, he saw a stray dog digging into the deserted soil of the next door’s garden. “Hey! No! Get out of there you filthy bag of lice!”
The dog whimpered and ran away. Alastor sighed in frustration and dared to look at the house. Once the walls were bright yellow and there would be many vases of flowers near the windows. Mr. Whittman would tend to the roses his wife so dearly loved in the garden. The big fig tree was long forgotten and out of hand. The backyard was probably worse. The old swing must be so rusty and the dog house would be all moldy because of all the rain.
There was once a time Alastor would go to that backyard even before he would go to his own house and leave his backpack after school. There was a time when Alastor knew this old and neglected house like the back of his hand. Now he couldn’t even remember where the stairs started and where Vincent's room was. Actually no, he remembered it. He used to climb on that fig tree to reach his window and then would jump in. He sighed to his memories and walked to his car.
It has been twenty years. Twenty long years of no Vincent… Twenty long years of no Whittmans… Some nights, when he was getting drunk in the privacy of his home alone, Alastor would want to cry for what could’ve been. Some nights he’d get into his bed and try to remember how Vincent would used to touch him. Some nights he’d pray… Pray that the last twenty years were just some big mistake, a big old nightmare and he was going to wake up as that young and naive boy again in his childhood bed. No morning brought him his wish.
Looking back, they were both stupid. Maybe Alastor more than him… Because why would he get mad at his boyfriend for applying for the college he wanted? Why would he get upset because he got accepted when Alastor was forced to go to the community college in their town and work at the same time? He should’ve been happy that Vincent was pursuing his dreams. He should’ve been happy that Vincent was going to be rich and powerful enough to take both of them out of this neighborhood in a few years so they could start a new life away from everyone.
He should've been grateful. But he was bitter. He was bitter because Vincent was shining brighter everyday and Alastor was sure one day he’d stop seeing him. He was living in New York most of the year, surrounded by new people and experiences. Why would he want to stick to the boy next door? Why would he still love Alastor when New York had so much more to offer?
Alastor should’ve never let his insecurities get the better of him. He should’ve talked to Vincent. They should’ve figured it out but instead Alastor chose to pick up fights every time they talked on the phone and holidays. He thought if he could push Vincent away first, it wouldn’t hurt as much when eventually Vincent found someone else and left him. He was wrong. It still hurt. It hurt when they broke up on a Christmas Eve where Vincent just left for college without waiting for Christmas. It hurt when they wouldn’t talk anymore. It hurt when Vincent took that girl’s hand and presented her to his parents as his girlfriend. A very pregnant girlfriend whom he was going to marry. Alastor saw that girl only once through his window, she looked around their age and according to what he heard from his mother, she was from Vincent’s class. And she was beautiful. She had that innocent beauty that was told in fairytales. Her auburn hair was short and dark eyes would avert anyone in shyness.
Vincent’s parents were angry as Hell. Alastor remembered his mother telling him that they accused the girl for baby-trapting Vincent for their family wealth and how Vincent just cut them off after that night. Both of them got into Vincent’s red Mustang with two suitcases, filled with Vincent’s belongings that night and left. There was no more Vincent after that. Whittmans left quickly after that night too. Apparently that fight was quite the scandal around the neighborhood.
Alastor spent these twenty years by graduating and getting into a real college, graduating again and finding himself a job at the local radio station. He was pretty good at his job. According to his mother, he was the best. Everyone at her nursing home loved him. At first Alastor didn’t want to leave her in Louisiana and in a nursing home no less but she was relentless. She wanted to die in her own homeland and she said that no lady would want to marry a man who was still living with his mother. Alastor wouldn’t want to marry them either. He wasn’t that big on romance. He loved once in his entire life and lost him to his own stupidity.
Some days he would try to imagine how Vincent was doing. Did he have a girl or a boy? He knew that he’d make a great father. He knew that he wanted a daughter more than anything. Maybe they had more kids. Was Vincent pursuing his dream career as a TV host or did he have to abandon that because of his kid? Was he happy? Did he miss Alastor at all? Did he think of him when he saw two kids playing in the park? Did he ever think of him when he was in bed with his wife? Did he close his eyes and imagine him when they were kissing?
Alastor parked his car and decided to go with the sad songs list this morning. The weather was grim as well, it looked like it was going to rain anyways. It would be fitting. And he could just smoke and think of Vincent some more.
***
In the evening when he came home and parked his car, he saw something unusual. His heart started to beat faster. He got out of his car quickly and walked into the next garden. The front door… it was open. Why was it open? Was someone breaking in? There was nothing to steal anymore. Alastor got his pocketknife out and entered the old house. There were suitcases near the door. He was looking at them, trying to make sense of things when someone screamed and there was a punch on his nose. His knife fell of his hands and someone pushed him to the wall and waved him his knife. “Who the fuck are you?”
Alastor saw a young boy with dark blond hair and angry eyes. “Who are you?” He yelled at him again and turned to his right. Alastor followed his gaze and saw a little girl, no older than twelve. “Darlene, call dad and hide. Quick.”
The girl ran away and disappeared into the kitchen. Alastor was confused and the punch was still hurting him. The boy pulled him in and threw him to the wall again. “I said, who are you? What the fuck are you doing at our house?”
“Your house? This house still belongs to the Whittmans.”
“Yeah, duh?” The boy said. “Who do you think we are?”
Alastor blinked a few times and tasted the blood on his lips. His nose was bleeding. “You… I am your neighbor, I stay next door. Alastor Hartfelt.”
The boy looked confused. “Why the fuck would I believe you? You came in here with a fucking knife.”
“I thought there was a break in! This house was empty for twenty years!”
“Well… When you say it like that… No, no! I don’t believe you, you stay like this until Dad comes home!”
Alastor felt his heart squeezing. “When you say dad… Do you mean Wick? Chazwick Whittman?”
“No, I mean Vincent Whittman.”
Alastor wanted to beg the boy to just stab him already but the door swung open and they both turned towards it.
Alastor saw Vincent for the first time in twenty years. He looked angry and scared at the same time. He looked at the boy first and then turned his gaze to Alastor. Suddenly all of those emotions were gone, just surprise… Surprise and something else… Alastor couldn’t tell.
“Jesus… Alastor?”
“Vincent?” Alastor whispered and suddenly wanted to cry. He had to hold himself though, he couldn’t cry, not in front of them.
“Chris for fuck’s sake, leave him.” Vincent pushed his son away from Alastor and took the knife. “What are you doing with a knife?”
“It was his! I disarmed him like you taught me, dad…”
Vincent turned to Alastor. “A knife? Really?”
“I thought there was a break in…”
“Then call the police Alastor, Jesus, you never changed, did you?”
Alastor wanted to scream. Wanted to scream how could Vincent act so normal around him, scream how could he bring that woman here, right under Alastor’s nose and torture him. “No not really…” He said with a soft voice. Vincent smiled a little finally. He folded his knife back and gave it to him. “There… next time please don’t draw a knife to my kids, will you?”
“Of course, I didn’t know… I didn’t know you were moving back.” He knew that he sounded a little accusatory.
Vincent looked away quickly. “Yeah, we decided with a rash…” He confessed. “This one right here got accepted into the University of Virginia… The engineering program, top of his class…” He squeezed his son’s shoulder and gave him a proud look. “We thought moving would do all of us good.”
“Congratulations…” Alastor said and the boy nodded. Alastor turned to the door, expecting someone else. “So where is the Missus? I am yet to meet her…”
There was a silence. The boy looked away and Vincent looked lost at words. Alastor didn’t think that he asked something wrong until a little voice talked from the kitchen door. “Mom is dead.”
Three of them turned to the girl -Darlene, Alastor remembered- and Vincent walked to her. “Hey sweetie, sorry for scaring you. Are you okay?”
“I’m okay daddy. I hid like Chris told me.”
“Good girl.” Vincent caressed her braided hair. “Go on, take your coat, we’re going out.”
Darlene ran to the stairs as Alastor turned to Vincent. “Vincent I… I didn’t know, I’m so sorry for your loss…”
“Yeah, I’m sorry too.” Vincent nodded, not meeting his eyes. He didn’t look like he wanted to talk about it. Alastor could understand how it felt to lose someone you loved.
Vincent took a set of keys out of his pocket and gave them to Chris. “You wanna drive us? Pick where’re going to eat?”
“Thanks dad.” Chris smiled and Alastor just had to ask. “You’re going out to eat?”
“Yeah I mean… it’s late and I bet the kitchen needs some work, I can’t cook anything there.”
“I can cook.” Alastor offered suddenly. “I mean in my home. I can cook for you. There are already some leftovers from yesterday, I…” Please say yes, please come to my home, please don’t leave just yet.
Vincent turned to his son. Chris shrugged. “Better than junk food, I guess.”
“How are we related, I will never understand it boy.” Vincent said with a smile and Chris smiled too.
“Daddy! Can we have McDonalds? Daddy, can I have ice cream too? Daddy, I want a sundae!” Darlene ran down the stairs. “Daddy, does this village have McDonalds?”
“Sweetie, the great state of Virginia is not a village.”
“It kind of is… I mean after New York…” Chris said. “This place looks like a town where cowboys would duel with each other.”
“I shouldn’t have left and raise you spoiled brats here…”
“Yes, you shouldn’t.” Alastor found himself saying before he could think. Vincent turned to him and snorted, trying to play it cool clearly. “See? Us village kids know better than you.”
“It’s because you’re old, daddy.” Darlene said. “Are we not going to have McDonalds?”
“Mr. Hartfelt here offered to cook for us sweetie.”
“I want McDonalds!”
“We’ll have some after I pick you up after school, okay?”
“Promise?"
“Promise.”
Darlene nodded and left him to take her brother’s hand. “Where are we going?”
Alastor got out of the house with them and walked to his home. Suddenly he was nauseous. Suddenly he was that highschool boy who tries to sneak his boyfriend inside home without his mother noticing it. He could feel Vincent’s presence behind him as he unlocked the door. He almost thought the opened door would be followed by a very eager Vincent kissing his neck and hugging his waist as he tried to make him laugh with tickles. That didn’t happen.
Alastor quickly tidied his living room. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I’d have guests today. This is a mess.”
“It’s okay.” Vincent said. “You kids sit here okay, we’ll call when the dinner is ready.”
“Daddy can I have your phone?” Darlene asked and extended her hand. Vincent gave her the phone and looked at Chris. “Don’t let her buy anything for that stupid game again.”
“Sure.”
They left the kids there and walked to the kitchen. Alastor gently closed the door and finally let himself appear weak. Vincent walked to the fridge with a familiarity. “So what are we cooking?”
“Vince…”
The man looked up to him. “Al…” He said, finally sounding like himself. Finally he was stripped down from his mask too. It was just them, no third or fourth person. Just the two of them…
“It’s been twenty years…”
“So it was…”
“I… I never thought I’d see you again. After you left that night… with that girl-”
“Pam. Her name was Pamela.”
“Right… I never heard from you again.”
“Wasn’t that what you wanted?” Vincent asked with a venom in his voice. “You said you didn’t see a future with me. You said you didn’t want to see me ever again. I just did what you told me to.”
“I never… I didn’t mean-” Did I say these things? I don't even remember how we broke up, I just remember the loud noise of Vincent slamming the door.
“Alastor… Look… My head is messed up too. I didn’t think I’d see you ever again, especially here. I thought you’d move out, move on. But we’re both here in this neighborhood again and… and I just lost my wife. My kids lost their mother. It’s been just two months. I don’t… I want to talk to you about… everything. Just not now. Not when I’m still grieving and hurting. Please can’t we just… cook some dinner so I can feed my kids?”
Alastor nodded. “Sure. Yes, of course. There is some rice with chickpeas in the fridge. Can you take it out?”
Vincent took the pot out. “I can make a quick run to the supermarket and buy some meatballs?”
“There are enough ingredients, making it from scratch is easier.”
“Where?”
Alastor told him where he could find them and watched Vincent kneading the base as he prepared some soup. They didn’t talk further, it was quiet. Not like the silence in the old house, no, this was almost comfortable. Alastor missed just existing in Vincent’s presence quietly and enjoying the peace.
After half an hour they called the kids. They all sat together, Chris cut his sister’s meatballs. Darlene snorted at the name of meatballs. Truly her father’s daughter, Alastor thought.
As they were eating, Darlene looked up. “Mr. Harty, are you married?”
“It’s Hartfelt, idiot.” Chris said.
Vincent sighed. “Darlene don’t ask personal questions to people, Chris don’t call your sister an idiot.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m not married, Darlene, never had the chance.”
Vincent stopped playing with his meatball briefly and then just ate it.
“So… have you been living here for your whole life?” Chris asked this time.
“Yes, I was born in this house.”
“So you’re the boy next door in dad’s stories.” Chris smiled to himself. “Dad talks about you a lot.”
“Does he?” Alastor turned to Vincent but he was still more interested in his food.
“Yeah… You two caused a lot of trouble to grandma and grandpa apparently.”
“Oh yes, Whittmans wouldn’t like me.”
“Their loss.” Vincent mumbled. “And don’t lie Chris, it wasn’t just me and Alastor. Your aunt helped a great deal as well.”
“Oh how is Victoria? I haven’t seen her in ages as well!”
“She’s fine, married, one kid, a boy. They’re in California. I hardly see her too.”
“And Chazwick?”
“Married, no kids but five dogs.” Vincent said.
“Oh, did he marry Julie?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Good for him.” Alastor smiled. “She was a lovely lady.”
“She still is.” Vincent agreed. “And before you could ask, mom and dad are in New York, uptown. They like the silence now. They occasionally go to Broadway, but that’s it.”
“That’s nice…”
“How’s your mother anyway?”
“In Louisiana, nursing home. She insisted that she wanted to d… stay there.”
“Huh… Why didn’t you go with her, you were always a mama’s boy.”
“I had things to look after here…” Alastor said. It wasn’t exactly a lie. Not really. He had to look after his childhood home, he had to make sure that no dogs dig up in Whittman’s garden, he had to make sure that he wasn’t moving on from his greatest mistake, he had to make sure that he was torturing himself every morning by driving by that house.
“Mr. Harfy, do you like dogs?”
“It’s Hartfelt!”
“She can call me whatever she wants, Chris, it’s okay.”
“I wanna call you Uncle Al.”
“Sure…”
“So..? Do you like dogs?”
“I can’t say I’m their biggest fan, dear, no. Why?”
“Because we have a dog and he will come home in two days! Uncle Wick will bring him!”
“Oh that’s… great. What’s his breed?”
“A Saint Bernard.” Vincent said. “Shokcy is big but don’t worry, he’s calm and old.”
“I don’t worry.”
“Alastor you shit your pants whenever we see a small dog.”
“They are filled with fury, Vincent!”
Both Chris and Darlene smiled, Vincent noticed it and smiled as well. It’s been just so long since they sat down to a home cooked three course meal and just… talked and laughed. Pam was sick for the longest time before she died. Vincent had tried to be there for her and his kids, he really did but it exhausted him. He didn’t even remember he slept a good night’s sleep. He got gloomy again as he thought the last few months.
Alastor noticed it, he wanted to take his hand, say something to make it better, anything… But he didn’t. He noticed that Vincent was wearing a mask around his kids, he clearly didn’t want to appear weak or vulnerable around them. Alastor could wait after the dinner, he had waited for twenty years, he could’ve waited a little longer as well.
After the dinner, Vincent sent the kids home since it was a school night and stayed in to help Alastor help with the kitchen. They washed the dishes together despite Alastor saying that he didn’t have to help, Vincent didn’t listen.
After they were done and Vincent had stepped out of his home, Alastor called out his name. The man turned around. He looked tired, like he hadn't been sleeping well. His eyes were sad, shoulders sagged. Anything to make things better, say something!
Alastor opened his arms faintly. “Come here.”
“Alastor, I told you-”
“Before we were boyfriends, we were best friends Vincent, let me console my best friend after his wife died.”
Vincent looked like he was about to cry after hearing that last phrase. He walked the steps again and got in between his arms. They hugged tightly. Alastor was holding him like if he ever let him loose, Vincent would just fall. The tired man set his cheek on his shoulder and exhaled shakily. He was shaking. Alastor caressed his hair as Vincent sobbed silently. He kissed his head, his heart was aching. “Shush… Everything’s going to be fine. I promise.”
“I miss her.” Vincent sobbed into his chest and hugged him tighter.
And I miss you, Alastor thought. Didn’t say anything.