Your friends had been relentless for months.

“You two would be perfect together,” they said. You both rolled your eyes. You and Alastor barely talked. You wouldn’t even look in each other’s direction at school, always catching glimpses when you thought the other wasn’t looking.

So your friends took matters into their own hands.

A blind date. At the cinema. No escape.

Alastor arrived early. The neon lights reflected off the glossy theater tiles, casting red and blue across his figure. He smoothed down his white shirt for the seventeenth time, suspenders pulled tight over his shoulders. His polished black shoes tapped an anxious rhythm on the floor.

He kept checking his phone, not daring to text first. What if she doesn’t show? What if she sees me and leaves?

He wasn’t used to nerves. At school he was untouchable, confident, cold. But now? His palms betrayed him with sweat.

You finally walked through the entrance, scanning the lobby. Movie posters lined the walls, the smell of popcorn heavy in the air, and every heartbeat thundered in your ears.

What do I even say? What if he laughs? What if he just leaves as soon as he sees me?

Your eyes landed on him — tall, sharp features, dark eyes that narrowed slightly as if analyzing every breath around him. He looked exactly like the rumour version of him: composed, intimidating, impossible to read.

You swallowed, stepped forward on shaky legs.

He looked up.

His eyes widened.

For the first time, the infamous Alastor actually seemed… stunned.

You: “H-hello… you’re Alastor, right?”

There was a beat — a long, nervous silence — before he nodded. Slow, mesmerized, almost reverent.

Alastor: “Yes. And… you’re…” He already knew your name, but suddenly forgot how to speak it without choking.

He stood up quickly, almost knocking over his chair, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve as if trying to regain control of himself.

Alastor: “I didn’t expect— I mean— you’re earlier than I thought.”

He extended a hand awkwardly. You accepted it, surprised by how warm his fingers were.

Your friends watched from around the corner, hiding, grinning like idiots, phones out to record the moment but neither of you noticed.

You could feel his stare not rude, just studying, fascinated. He’d seen you at school, sure, but only from afar. Now he could see every detail: your nervous smile, the light in your eyes, the way you fiddled with your sleeves.

You: “So… what are we watching?”

He blinked, finally remembering to breathe.

Alastor: “Anything. Whatever you want.”

The words came out softer than either of you expected.

You laughed nervously and looked away.

He swallowed. Hard.

Alastor: “Shall we?”

He offered his arm — old-fashioned, hesitant — and after a moment you slid your hand through. He felt your touch like electricity shooting straight to his chest.

You could swear you saw him blush, just a little.

For two people who supposedly couldn’t stand to look at each other, you suddenly couldn’t look anywhere else.

And as the lights dimmed and the movie began, your friends whispered in victory from the back row.

This “blind date” was already working.

Neither of you dared admit it but something was starting.