Harmony in Hell: A Radiodust Story

Chapter Twelve

TW: Mentions of abuse

"I don't like being alone." Alastor pulled Anthony closer, wiping the tears from his eyes. They were settled on Anthony's bed; the brunette had found himself there after the blonde had called, practically begging for Alastor to come over. The room was dimly lit, shadows casting a somber atmosphere that matched Anthony's distressed state. Fresh bruises and cuts marred his usually vibrant appearance, Alastor had wrapped the cuts when he arrived. Now he was working to calm the blonde.

"My father was mad, he's always mad, and I was in his way." The blonde went silent after this. Alastor placed a comforting hand on Anthony's shoulder, a silent assurance that he was there for him. "Take your time, my dear," Alastor muttered softly, understanding the weight of Anthony's words. Having faced a similar tumultuous relationship with his own father, Alastor knew the importance of patience. He recognized that Anthony often needed time to navigate through his emotions and find the right words to express the pain he harbored within.

"He was drunk, he does that a lot, drinking. I don't remember if there was a time he didn't drink, but Jonathan says there was." The blonde looked down at his arms, picking at the bandages, "I was trying to leave, I'm normally gone by the time he gets up but he was awake early this morning." Anthony's voice wavered as he recounted the painful details, and Alastor continued to provide a soothing presence. The blonde went silent for a while, and Alastor started rocking him softly. "Jonathan didn't come home last night, so all of his anger was directed at me." The blonde turned and buried his face into the brunette's chest. Alastor held him close, brushing his fingers through Anthony's hair, the way he had learned Anthony liked.

Once it was clear the blonde was through with the subject, Alastor started muttering questions that were far from the topic. He had learned Anthony liked distractions when he was upset, especially answering questions about various topics. "Why are white chrysanthemum's your favorite flower?" Anthony mumbled his response in a quiet tone, "They are beautiful, but they also have a beautiful meaning. They are said to symbolize devoted love and loyalty. Other colors of chrysanthemums also have meanings.." The blonde's voice trailed off, a sign he didn't think what he was saying was important to the question. "What might those reasons be?" Alastor asked, knowing he had chosen the right question to ask first and planned to keep them on this topic. Anthony moved slightly so he was fully laying on Alastor.

"Red chrysanthemums symbolize love at first sight, I think they are a much better flower to express love than roses." "And the others?" "The purple one's symbolize a wish to get well or friendship, but yellow symbolizes neglected love, which I find interesting since all the others mean some form of good love."

Alastor kept the conversation going until Anthony drifted off to sleep. Alastor stayed with him, gently fixing the bandages where Anthony had almost completely pulled them off. As he sat there, cradling the peacefully sleeping blonde in his arms, a surge of determination coursed through Alastor. He realized he would do anything to protect Anthony, even if it meant confronting the darkness of his past and taking drastic measures to ensure the young man's safety – including facing the source of Anthony's torment, his own father.