Chapter Text
So we could call it even, you could call me “babe” for the weekend
Charlie often didn’t think before speaking.
The alcohol in her blood system combined with being a pathological people pleaser didn’t suit her impulsive nature all too well. So when Cherri jokingly dared her to get a date —in an inoffensive game of truth or dare, in a harmless party, in a tone that read she wasn’t being serious— Charlie couldn’t help but blurt out a set of very sentencing words.
“I’m actually going out with someone already.”
Needless to say, it was a big, extremely condemning lie.
All eyes were set on her immediately.
Parties weren’t her scene, crowds weren’t her thing, being the center of attention melted whatever little confidence she had in herself, and still, having her three friends obviously waiting for an explanation proved to be even worse than all of it combined.
“What do you mean you’re seeing someone?” Vaggie asked to her side.
Though it was worded as a question, Charlie knew it was far from that. It was a demand, a command, a need for an explanation. They were the closest in the group. They had been inseparable ever since she stepped foot into campus five years ago, going so far as to call each other best friends. Vaggie knew everything about her, from her greatest accomplishments to her most embarrassing secrets, her dreams and fears, her hopes and regrets, her plans for the future. Everything. Of course it didn’t make any sense that she would hide something so trivial like going out with someone—because she wouldn’t! Secrets filled her stomach with anxiety. Charlie couldn’t even lie about what she had for breakfast, let alone hide a relationship from the world. The world being her friends.
And alcohol wasn’t her friend, so it seemed.
“I—I didn’t say anything because it’s sort of complicated.” Breathe. Remember to breathe. “We decided it was best to keep it between us at first! You know…”
God, she was such a bad liar. She could see it in their faces, in their raised eyebrows, in their overall body language that screamed ”stop bullshitting us”. She was less than convincing. Even a little kid could come up with something better, more elaborate than that.
Charlie desperately needed another drink.
“So… are we meeting them any time soon?” Angel inquired with a naughty smile. “The secret is out already, right?”
Shit.
She should have never trusted herself enough to attend a party. It had proven to be her worst idea up to the moment—she wanted it to be a good memory, given it was her last year at university. A little thing to hold onto, to treasure in her late years. She had never gone to one before, so what could go possibly wrong?
Apparently, everything.
She could come clean, tell the truth, say she was just joking. She could play it cool—they would forget eventually!
But what if they never forgave her? What if she lost them?
Charlie didn’t have any friends growing up. When you are born into a wealthy, almost aristocratic family, with parents that believe preserving social status and lineage is crucial, all you really have are acquaintances. It had been hellish enough to convince them about college—she had gone so far as to promise it was all in the wake of serving the family company more effectively in the future. Another lie she still hadn’t figured out how to fix, truthfully, but time was on her side—a whole year to plan her great escape. Unlike now.
“Yes! Yes, of course,” Charlie finally managed to say. Breathe. They don’t know the truth. “We were just talking about it the other day—how we needed to come clear. He said he wanted to meet my friends and everything!”
’He?’ Was she insane? It was one thing to lie about having a partner, a date or whatever—but with a man, nonetheless? Considering how most of them on campus were either weird, a hormonal mess or a mixture of both? And lets not forget, those who were in their right mind would never agree to pretend they had been secretly dating for a while, even if she begged them to. Rumours would spread like wildfire and suddenly she would not only be a liar, but also a clown.
Charlie had dug her own grave way too deep.
“Well, I hope you will set a reunion sooner than later,” Cherri said, giving Angel and Vaggie a playful look. “We can’t wait!”
She smiled awkwardly, praying they wouldn’t notice how her body was starting to tremble from all the anxiety rushing through her veins. How could she completely ruin her night within minutes? Someone should set a Guinness World Record for it. “Ri—Right! I’ll talk to him afterwards.”
“Oh, don’t leave us wondering, honey!” Angel exclaimed, lifting his eyebrows up and down and giving her a mischievous smirk. “Is he here?”
“Is he hot? Have you two done anything naughty already?” Cherri added, smiling broadly. “What even is your type? You never talk about anyone!”
Was it too much to ask that the earth suddenly opened in two and swallowed her whole? She fidgeted with her fingers nervously, trying to figure out what to reply.
Vaggie seemed to sense her discomfort—if only she knew it was because of a big, fat lie instead of embarrassment.
“Guys, come on. Charlie will talk when she feels ready, no need to pressure her.”
Vaggie offered a warm smile that only made her chest fill with guilt even more. Despite the whole situation not making the littlest bit of sense, she still had her back. She still trusted her. And all she would get in return was… nothing. Because the man didn’t exist. Because her best friend was a liar.
Another drink.
Realistically, Charlie knew she wouldn’t find a solution at the bottom of a bottle. Or after three margaritas. Or after some tequila shots. Or by clumsily dancing until her head felt dizzy and the whole world was spinning. The prizes of her actions weren’t easy to pay off.
Against all odds, she managed to reach a bench that looked comfortable enough to lie down and reflect on all of her life’s choices—God, was alcohol always this bad? Her vision was blurry and she felt like fainting at any given point.
Charlie didn’t really enjoy drinking, truth be told, but since she had never been to a college party before, it had proved to be a good ally to calm her anxiety down—until a game of truth or dare doomed her existence, at least, forcing her to try and forget the consequences of her own idiocy by chugging down alcohol like water.
Okay, maybe that was on her. She could have gone home or decided to stay and carry the weight of her actions almost sober. In all honesty, she was probably embarrassing herself more right now than she did in front of her friends—messy, blonde hair falling on her face, black stains of eye shadow tainting her pale skin, vision blurry and body heavy while sitting on a bench. All Alone. At a party.
Charlie didn’t really know what had possessed her to say she was dating someone in the first place.
Long ago, there had been a time where she thought her brain wasn’t capable of developing romantic or sexual attraction towards people. She had accepted it as part of her nature at first, but had been quick to realize, upon arriving at college, that it was only due to the fact her family only frequented people who shared their same status—needless to say, their kids weren’t the nicest people to hang out with.
Being almost isolated from the real world, Charlie had been perplexed to discover how people so casually engaged in… physical, private activities together, and had eventually found out that talking to different students actually sparked curiosity and desire in her body. Even with all that information, though, she had never actually pursued anyone. Out of her friend group, she was the only one that had never gone on a date—Vaggie was in a relationship, Angel and Cherri always talked about their hookups, and then you had her, a girl in her 20s that hadn’t kissed anyone for years now.
Charlie guessed it all went down because she wanted to feel part of the group, instead of a sheltered girl whose parents kept her hidden from the world—like a rat inside a cage, a little experiment.
How doomed she was.
And even more when footsteps started to be heard.
Amidst her ruminative, self loathing thoughts, Charlie failed to realize someone had approached her. And maybe because she was a bit too drunk, but that’s another story.
“Well, you certainly look miserable, my dear.”
She tried her best to figure out where she had heard that voice before. It was oddly familiar, yet it didn’t belong to any of her friends. It was deep enough to ring in her ears like a dark melody, and still not close enough to outrun the alcohol in her brain that wasn’t letting her think clearly. Her vision proved to be unhelpful as well, seeing as her eyes were too watery. And her head was spinning and pounding so much it felt like riding on a never ending carousel.
Futile, pointless efforts.
“Thank you, Sherlock,” Charlie mumbled back after a brief moment with painful, obvious irritation.
She wasn’t the type to be rude, but it wasn’t exactly her best moment either—no need for an outside observer to remark on it.
The person chuckled, seemingly unamused by her antics. “There’s no need to be so defensive now, is there? I just made a rather accurate observation, that’s all.”
She scoffed. Rude. “Well, you did it already! Go away and leave me to rot by myself.”
Charlie melted into the bench, letting her body slide down until her feet were touching the ground. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, naturally, but she was too tired to even care. And frustrated—at herself and at the random stranger that decided she needed to be reminded of her deplorable state.
Speaking of him, Charlie thought her point had been made clear, seeing as the man didn’t utter another word. But then he sat down by her side, keeping a fair distance between them, almost as if he hadn’t heard her—or, rather, ignoring her desires.
“And what has you so worked up, I wonder? That’s a really dramatic scene you just pulled.”
Why did he have to keep insisting? Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? Charlie’s impulsive nature didn’t know better—the words were accumulating in her mouth like vomit.
She couldn’t —shouldn’t— vent her problems to a total stranger.
“Just go away,” she whined, pleading he would take the hint.
The man didn’t say anything, but Charlie could feel his stare lingering. Did she seem like a damsel in distress or something? What would it take for him to leave? Was she being forced to speak? Had God sent someone to atone for her sins—oh. Maybe she needed to speak. Maybe this was her chance for redemption.
“Fine!” Charlie bursted out louder than she had hoped to, admitting defeat and sitting down properly on the bench. “I told my friends I was dating someone and I’m not, okay?! And I don’t even know why I did it! Okay, that’s not true. I may have a clue! But I don’t have a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, or a something-end. I’m all alone! And now I don’t know how to go back from this! What do I say?! How do I fix it?! It’s so stupid! And if they find out I lied they are goingtohatemeandnevertalktomeagainever!”
She was panting for air by the time she finished talking.
It was a bad habit of hers—the littlest amount of pressure would have her talking non-stop. Charlie could never hold her feelings inside because, one, she was too easy to read, and two, she would crack down in less than a minute if someone insisted.
It seemed that the timer would get reduced to seconds when drunk. No words were needed—a mere silence would make her vomit everything out.
“Ah,” the man spoke after a brief moment. Charlie had almost forgotten he was there to begin with. “That’s sort of pathetic, don’t you think?”
God, why did he have to be so rude? Of course she knew it was pathetic! Why would she need a reminder?
“Yeah, thank you,” Charlie groaned. It required all of her self restraint to not send him to Hell.
She buried her face into her hands, sighing loudly. What could she do, realistically? Time travels weren’t real. She couldn’t come forward and tell her friends it had been a prank—they wouldn’t believe it, she wasn’t that type of person. There was also no way she could pull a man, even if it was life or death dependent, and she most definitely couldn’t bring someone into her fabricated curtain of lies.
… Could she not?
Since he was determined to be a dick, maybe he could be of help. He could have gone away or ignored her from the beginning, but he decided to stay and listen. And now he was part of it—Charlie couldn’t simply let him walk away. He had too much information already.
“You, random man, will be my salvation plan, got it?”
She slided closer, picking up a few pieces of him through her blurry vision. Brown hair, dark eyes, apparently tall. Probably a confused expression on his face.
“You decided to come and be rude to me for no reason, so you will now pretend to be my boyfriend and help me get out of this mess.” She tapped his chest with her finger two times.
The confidence in her voice wasn’t something she was used to having. Maybe alcohol wasn’t her enemy after all.
“And I won’t take no for an answer!” Charlie continued. “Because you have been mean and I don’t like mean people! You will carry the consequences of your actions like I do.”
Exactly. She was in charge.
“And now you will let me walk away so I can go to sleep! We will discuss the terms of service in the morning.”
The man stayed silent. And silent. And more silent. Of course he would! Charlie was amazing. She had put him in his place and simultaneously covered the hole she had dug before by saying she had a boyfriend. Truly spectacular.
“Goodnight sir!”
With a triumphant smile, Charlie clumsily walked back inside.
The world turned pitch black afterwards.
Charlotte Morningstar was an advanced, last-year psychology student who researched alternative treatments and interventions to incarceration for her thesis. Despite society pretending rules and laws were black and white —Heaven or Hell, salvation or damnation— she knew, deep down, it was a plain gray at best. People would be thrown into jail and treated with no mercy, even if the crimes they committed weren’t crucifying—like stealing food to try and survive. The system wasn’t fair. It only benefited a small, selected group. And norms solely existed to create an illusory idea of order, because those with enough power could simply skip over them.
Charlie dreamed of being a positive change in the world, to prove that even sinners deserved another chance —some of them, at least—, to show the world that effective therapy and compassion could lead to an overall improvement and change the system inside out.
But maybe not that specific day.
No, that day, she dreamed about her bed. About the comfort of her cozy sheets, the soft pillows that embraced her oh so warmly, and a room with no light or sun rays coming through the windows. Her head felt about to explode and Carmilla, her thesis advisor, wouldn’t stop talking—not like it was her fault, of course. It was her job, after all. Charlie was the one that had been reckless enough to drink her sorrows away.
No more alcohol. Ever.
She felt like a bus had run her over and, what’s worse, last night’s events were a blur—she could remember the truth or dare game, her stupid lie and then sitting down at the bar to chug down an insane amount of shots. And then nothing but darkness. Vaggie had been the one to apparently carry her back to the dorm in the end.
Not only was Charlie mortified now, but she also had no idea how to fix the delicate web of lies she had created.
And she couldn’t think with her head pounding.
“… So I have marked everything you need to revise. We’ll meet again in three days. Does that sound good?”
Right. Carmilla. Her thesis. She needed to pretend she had been listening.
“Yes, yes! Thank you. Definitely.”
A few minutes later she was left alone at last, the room filled with nothing but blank silence. Charlie was thankful the corrections were written in paper—she would have no idea what to do otherwise, and her need for academic validation couldn’t tolerate that. It was mortifying enough to have gotten drunk to the point of oblivion. She didn’t need another stain. Carmilla hadn’t seemed to notice her lousy state, though, or maybe she had simply let it pass. Either way, it was a small victory.
Charlie sat down for a bit, hoping her head would adjust back to normal. No amount of ibuprofen had been able to hide the scarring truth of her actions. And no amount of praying would miraculously erase her lies. She would have to face her friends sooner than later—starting with Vaggie, who would be coming looking for her after she was done with her own thesis supervision.
It was a fact that telling the truth would prove to be more helpful in the long run. And it’s not like she had another alternative. But the consequences were a far too cruel gamble. Maybe they would laugh and forget about it, maybe they would ask what made her feel the need to make up such a thing… Or maybe they wouldn’t talk to her again.
Solitude was sickening enough as a thought. She didn’t need the full experience.
When the sound of a door opening pulled Charlie out of her train of thoughts, she couldn’t help but wonder if her time perception was altered as well—it wasn’t normal for Vaggie to finish so early. Still, that only meant her long awaited reunion with her bed would come sooner than expected. It was certainly a relief.
“Hey, how did everything go with—”
Charlie stopped mid sentence.
Because that wasn’t her friend shooting her a curious glance by the door—tawny skin, wavy hair with an undercut, a smug grin forever glued to his face…
“I see you were expecting someone else.”
Everyone and their mother knew Alastor on campus.
He wasn’t just a prodigy. He didn’t just excel in every subject, every assignment, every exam. He didn’t just catch the attention of one of the best professors and professionals in college. He didn’t just take over the university’s radio program within months.
No, he was so much more than that.
Alastor was, to put it simple, an overall bastard. A cocky, challenging bastard that would gladly step on everyone to reach the top. A bastard that definitely looked down on anyone he didn’t consider good enough.
He had a reputation. Every student who ever had the atrocious fate of working with him on a project described Alastor as a demon, a merciless being that would go above and beyond to make a perfect assignment, even if that meant killing everyone’s self esteem in the process. He didn’t mind being rude, impolite, mean or anything of the sorts. He only cared about himself—people were just mere insects waiting to be stepped on.
And now he was standing only a few feet away, waiting for an answer.
Waiting for her.
“Yes, I—” Why is he even here in the first place? “I was expecting to see my friend. She should come any minute now.” Please go.
“Perfect! That means I still have time to discuss some matters with you.”
Charlie was sure her face had gone pale, as if she had seen a ghost.
This was a bad omen. A terrible turn of events. A sign the apocalypse was near.
“With… me?” She asked, uncertainty behind her every word.
Alastor chuckled, walking closer. “Ah, I see. You don’t remember much about last night, do you?”
Oh, no.
No, no, no.
Her stomach twirled and danced around, full of anxiety and regret.
He was so close that Charlie could now notice how bright and golden-brown his eyes were, and how he gazed upon her as if she was nothing but a simple prey.
“I must say, it’s rather flattering you would ask… no, force me to be your fake pretend boyfriend.”
Her eyes opened so wide they could have bursted out of her skull at any given moment.
No, she wouldn’t have done that. Not ever. Less specifically with him.
… Right?
“I—No, that couldn’t have possibly been me.”
It couldn’t be her. It couldn’t.
“Oh, but it was.” He offered a big, mischievous smile that didn’t hold any good intentions behind. “Quite the spectacle as well. Who lies about having a boyfriend in a truth or dare game? A shame I wasn’t present at the moment. It must have been a rather enticing scene.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
This couldn’t be happening.
Alastor knew too much. And he couldn’t be faking it—how could he have every detail if he was?
What did she do? What had she done?
She was screwed. She was screwed and at a demon’s mercy.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—I was really drunk.” Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Of course you’re not forced to be my…” Charlie paused. “Boyfriend.” Alastor raised an eyebrow. “But please, please don’t tell anyone about this. My friends—they can’t know. They can’t know I lied. Please.”
God, she sounded so desperate. So cornered. It was pathetic to have reached such a state. And she happened to choose the worst person to plead forgiveness to.
Alastor, on the contrary, chuckled, seeming very much entertained by her misery. “Oh relax, dear. I’m not here to blackmail you or anything. Do you think so lowly of me?”
Well…
“I only came to tell you I accept your offer. Or should I say, your demand?” He grinned. “I will pretend to be your boyfriend.”
Ah. Okay.
Charlie understood now.
She was dreaming. She had never woken up in the first place. The alcohol had rotted her brain to the point she was dreaming of Alastor agreeing to be her fake boyfriend. It made perfect sense. It was the only logical, rational, objective reason.
She pinched herself in the cheek, waiting for the moment her eyes would open to be greeted by the beautiful sight of her dorm ceiling.
But nothing happened.
She blinked a few times. He was still in front of her.
“Did you just pinch yourself?” Alastor asked, letting out a good laugh that made her cheeks blush furiously red. “How very flattering, Charlie.”
Charlie?
“How do you know my—”
He raised a single finger, making her stop. “You are the daughter of one of the most influential families in this country. How could I not, dear?”
Oh.
That somehow proved to be more embarrassing than anything else happening in her life right now. She didn’t… particularly enjoy being tied to them. Not because Charlie hated her parents, but because she didn’t share their view on many subjects. Most subjects. All of them, truthfully.
“As I was saying…” Her eyes returned to his face. “I will pretend to be your boyfriend for a while, and in exchange, you will grant me a favour when the time is correct.”
“A… favour?” Alastor hummed in response. “What…? I mean, I’m sure there’s not much I can do. I…”
Was she honestly agreeing? Was dating Alastor, out of all people in college, really better than telling the truth to her friends?
Maybe? Possibly?
He chuckled. “Trust me, there’s plenty you can do for me, dear.”
Oh. Okay. Totally not weird.
“Just to be clear, we aren’t talking about anything… illegal, right?”
Charlie feared she had broken him for a few seconds, seeing as Alastor was only just perplexedly staring at her.
“You do have a very bad perception of me,” he stated. She almost felt bad for asking. “But if that was the case, I don’t think I would be trying to pursue such… crimes, while doing something so stupid as pretending to be someone’s boyfriend, don’t you agree?”
Well, he did have a point.
And fake dating him… it couldn’t end up so bad, right? Possibly. Hopefully. It was just a harmless lie, after all. And Alastor wasn’t half bad looking. Just a bastard, but not ugly—he was taller, had really sharp fangs, a wide smile and pretty hair. It could work. He was okay. Her friends would never find out the truth and everything would go back to normal after a while.
“Fine. You have a deal.”
A deal with the devil himself.
Alastor grinned broadly and triumphantly, making Charlie wonder, for just a split second, what exactly had she gotten herself into. But when the door opened once again, bringing her out of the dreamland, she immediately remembered she was supposed to meet Vaggie in the first place, instead of talking to Alastor about… them.
And he seemed to remember too, for he leaned down to whisper, “Follow my lead.”
His fingers grabbed her chin with delicacy, and then his lips, surprisingly warm and soft, were suddenly on hers.
Charlie’s eyes remained open big and round for a brief moment, awkwardly processing the situation—the strange feeling of his skin against her own, and the shocking realization of how touch starved she truly was. It had been too long, but she eventually let herself melt into the kiss. An innocent peck, more so, but good enough proof that they were… intimate. Close.
When Alastor finally pulled back, with a devilish smile on his face, she realized Vaggie had been shockingly staring at them.
Right. It was definitely quite a sight.
It had been quite an experience as well.
“Ah, this must be the friend you talked to me about,” he said with evident confidence, as if she had actually shared any information. “I’m Alastor. Pleasure to meet you.”
“I definitely know who you are.” There was no room left for doubt on her tone—unhappy and incredulous. Vaggie shot her a curious glance. She could only blush uncomfortably in response.
Alastor chuckled, seemingly unfazed by her apparent rejectment, then grabbed Charlie’s hand to place a delicate kiss on her knuckles. “Right. I’ll be on my way, dear. I’m sure you two have a lot of catching up to do.” He gave Vaggie a quick look. “Find me afterwards, Charlie.”
And he disappeared out of their sight in an instant, like nothing had ever happened, like the whole thing was normal, like he hadn’t just… kissed her.
God, she had kissed Alastor.
“What the hell is going on, Charlie?”
If only she had an honest answer.