Alastor and you were friends. Good friends. You and him were practically inseparable. You and him would both go out together (platonically), stayed at each other's houses, and even slept in each other's beds sometimes.

Alastor adored you. Alastor was completely whipped by you. Your pretty face.. your smile. Your laugh. You were beyond perfect in his eyes. It was distracting.. you'd think that love would be great. But Alastor didn't know how to react to it.

Alastor was a coldblooded killer.. surely killing you wouldn't be dreadful to him. No.. no it wouldn't. It couldn't be. No. That's why he brought home the poison.. he didn't feel ashamed. Not yet, at least. You didn't get any signs of this. He never lost his temper, he never called you names.

It was a nice night, twilight time. The tall man offered to make your drink, and you accepted. When he went to the kitchen, that's when he slipped the poison in your drink.. he came back, and as you clanked your glasses together, he watched as you drank. And if you wonder why now, how you can barely think, the problem lays inside the poison in your drink. You're feeling sort of woozy, you feel you should lay down. So, you did. You laid down, laying your head on Alastor's lap. It was dim in the room, you could see the moon outside because of the large window. You loved the moon. You loved night.

You were losing color in your lips, as Alastor watched. He felt shattering in his chest.