⚠️ Warning: Usage of historical acts of racism.

  The Great Depression hit America hard, gone was the cheer and bustle of the roaring twenties, the irresponsibility of the American people leaving all that behind as the joy that once filled the streets was replaced by gloom and dread. In all this foreboding atmosphere, a chipper and joyful person like Alastor really sticks out, some say his natural optimism helps to lighten their mood and make them feel that better days are coming soon, others say it's creepy and makes him seem like a smug ass negro. Regardless of what people said or thought of him, Alastor would continue to smile through everything, even as rocks were pelted at his lean frame, his grin never faded. Even as his injuries were disregarded by his primely white co-workers, Alastor didn't bat an eye at their disregard. It wasn't until he made it through the long track through the woods and secured his door closed that he finally broke down into heavy sobs, his bruises a deep shade of purple and the blood from his cuts having long since dried up. He leaned against his door with tears streaming down his cheeks, his vision starting to blur, the pain from his wounds starting to become to much as he finally gives in and succumbs to the darkness.

  This was the state Anthony found the radio host when he finally found his home, a lanky man covered in cuts and bruises from head to toe, passed out on the floor. Anthony frowned as he took note of the man's disheveled appearance, a contrast to the vivid description of the man he was given. 'A tall and lanky negro with a smug ass smile with an annoyingly cheery look constantly and a neat appearance' was what he was told, this man was a cut and dry contrast to the man in front of him. Anthony was part of the mafia, but he never chose that life, he was born into it and didn't have a choice but to live it. That said, Anthony wasn't heartless, he had morals and couldn't just leave a guy who was clearly badly beaten laying on the ground unconscious, especially one as cute as this guy. With a sigh Anthony picked up the lanky man in his arms, internally sighing in relief at the other man's light weight as he carried him around the house, finally finding what he assumed to be Alastor's bedroom, and laying him down in bed. Next he wandered around to find anything to treat Alastor's wounds, to which he eventually found a med kit in the bathroom. Anthony got to work disinfecting the cuts and wrapping them up in bandages, nothing could really be done about the bruises, but he still wrapped them up just so they wouldn't be visible.

  As Anthony finished dressing Alastor's wounds, he couldn't help but gaze upon the gorgeous face of the unconscious man in front of him, he looked oddly calm and relaxed as he laid asleep, temporarily free from the hardships and misery of the real world. Anthony sighed as he ran his fingers through the soft brown hair that framed the Creole man's face. 'He's a handsome son of a bitch' Anthony couldn't help thinking, as his thumb gently ran across the unconscious man's jawline, was this a bit creepy? Yeah probably, he should stop before the guy woke up and thought he was some creep or something. He tucked the other in before he stood up straight and quietly left the house, his dad would throw a fit at him for this if he was lucky, though he doubted he'd be that lucky after letting a target go. Anthony thought all this bitterly, yet his thoughts drifted back to that man, Alastor he believes he was told the guys name is, he started to accept this inevitable punishment. After seeing that handsome face soiled with cuts, bruises, tear stains and a frown, Anthony decided he wanted to see the smile the radio host was both famous and infamous for. As the image of a soft smile across the man's face came to his mind, Anthony couldn't help but smile himself, yeah, it seemed worth it to him.

  "Good morning and salutation good people of New Orleans! This is your host Alastor speaking!" Anthony heard echoing from the radio, his eye widened as he lay on his bed, holding ice on his black eye as his brain registered what he just heard. A voice so silky smooth, sweet as honey, and so chirpy it rivaled the chirps of the birds outside his window. Anthony wanted to melt from hearing that voice, who could ever resist something so silvery? To think that someone could want to harm such a handsome face and silky voice Anthony mused. It struck him then, he dashed out of the place he called 'home' with a Tommy gun in arms as he dashed to the only radio station in town. Time seemed to slow down as the radio host stepped out, his body already covered in bruises from the assault on him early today, and he braced himself for the onslaught that was sure to continue once he stepped out the door. Yet, just as he saw a rock was about to be thrown, the ear piercingly familiar sound of a gun being shot sounded through the air. The men that surrounded him scattered and ran away, leaving only one behind, a tall flamboyant man with a smoking gun held in his arms. Widened amber eyes met with bright sapphire ones as the two met made eye contact, Anthony's mouth went dry as he gazed upon the radio host in his full glory for the first time. Minus the bruises, Alastor looked exactly how he'd been described, but everything about him seemed to screaming charming to the working man. Alastor's cheeks gained a red tint as his lips slowly parted, "...you wouldn't happen to be the individual to treat my injuries previously, would you?" Anthony stared for some time, his cheeks gaining their own pink tint as he nodded slowly. Alastor burst into laughter as he held out his hand for Anthony, "Alastor, a pleasure to make your acquaintance" he greets with a sincere smile. Anthony smiles and shakes it in return, "Anthony's the name, nice ta meet ya babe~" Anthony purrs, which makes Alastor's cheeks turn to a deep shade of red. This is how their story began, how they met and became friends, and quickly turn into lovers, and while death would soon knock on the radio host door, not even death shall keep them apart.