Oh, Sinner (A Vox Hazbin Hotel AU)

The days before doomsday, before I lose you

"Can you pass the jam, please?" Velvette asked, half-eyeing the plain toast decorating her plate, half-scrolling through news articles on her phone. She was referring to Valentino, who towered over them like a skyscraper while he poured his morning coffee. The air smelled of it, the bitter nodes circling Vox as he leaned back in his chair and counted the crystals dangling from his chandelier. So far he was up to 87, and he had time to finish the inventory. For once, all three of them had a day off. The issue was figuring out how to spend it.

"Of course, bella," Valentino replied, handing her the quarter-full jar of orange marmalade without looking behind him. She took it and grinned.

Vox had closed his eyes and imagined every morning being like this one. He'd wake up slowly, shoulders loosened and breathing slow. They'd all share a meal, and then maybe they'd hit the town or simply laze the day away. No meetings to attend, and no films to shoot or contracts to construct. Just the three of them, as relaxed as the midnight Sun, and together like the stars.

But those days were over. Valentino was dead, and Vox could never return to V Tower. Doing so would only kill him.

~~~

Vox woke up in a bitter-cold sweat. He breathed hard, his forearms shaking beneath his weight as he sat up. He felt the sheets beneath his fingertips, recognizing their silken patterns as his own. He was back in bed, beneath the frigid sheets. It had only been a nightmare, the same old song and dance that insisted on plaguing him each night. He looked up, focusing his gaze on the dark dome hovering threateningly above him. He counted seven of his darling pet sharks swimming in the abyss above. They seemed almost far away, like airplanes in a night sky, or quivering, falling stars. A stark contrast from the screen-lined walls and flickering lights he just awoke and fled from. He looked at the empty blankets beside him. He was alone, and she wasn't there.

Get up, he ordered himself, and he did. A fresh navy suit was already waiting for him on the leather armchair beside the bed, and he slipped into it with ease. He straightened his collar as he headed for the door, taking a deep breath before putting on his signature confident smile.

Vox's assistant, a shorter and younger sinner named Intel, met him by the door. Intel stood with his cherry glasses practically pressed to a clipboard, teetering in his boots as he bit his greying lips. His azure hair was slicked back and neat, though the boy didn't act as professional and serious as he appeared. Vox yawned and pulled out his phone before Intel looked up, the overlord unwilling to show the leftover discomfort he had attempted to leave in the bedroom. Not that Vox needed to hold a facade to Intel's judgment– thanks to a few drunken nights, the sinner knew a little too much about his acclaimed boss.

Still, when Intel looked up, he only noticed a towering man with a shark's smile. "Mr. Vox, sir," he greeted in a congested voice, standing straighter. "Good morning!"

"A good morning indeed, my good man," Vox said with outstretched arms, and that seemed to relax the boy a little. "Tell me, what's on my plate today?"

"Um..." Intel flipped through his clipboard. "After breakfast, you have a quick meeting with Mr. Valentino regarding... uh... Hell's entertainment. After that, you have a couple of shows to green light with our production team and a Voxtek meeting to discuss quarterly sales. Then you have a lunch date with Ms. Velvette–"

"Velvette?" Vox looked up from his phone, which he had begun scrolling through the moment his mind-numbing meetings were brought up. He'd be lucky to make it to lunch, much less to nightfall. "Did Velvette and I have a meeting planned?" His heart raced at the thought. Was he forgetting something?