Chapter Text
Angel’s fingers run over the paper, a smile spreading across his face despite himself. He can’t help it, every time he sees the signature pink paper his heart soars. He opens it feverishly, his eyes running over the words that never fail to make him blush.
The letters started about a month ago. At first, Angel thought he was being pranked. I mean who would write him a love letter?
And that’s just the thing, he doesn’t know who it is. There are no hints, they’re always just appearing in various places. Always random days, always a different place, always heartbreakingly beautiful.
The first one was short. Like, only one sentence. But it made him think.
“To be loved by a writer is to be loved by words.”
The words echoed in Angel’s head for the next week. It was all he could think about. Who wrote it? Why? He obsessed over it daily. Until the next letter came.
“And you move with the grace of smoke, legs moving as if made of light.”
Something about the idea of someone thinking this about him made him blush so much that he hid his face in his pillows.
It’s been almost an entire month now, letter arriving every week. The handwriting is neat, halfway between cursive and calligraphy. Somehow each week, the letters outdo themselves. And Angel finds himself looking forward to it.
He sits down in his dressing room to read this week’s letter. He has no idea how someone got in here without anyone knowing but he finds he doesn’t care very much.
“I think of you as a painting. Something fragile, beautiful, admired by all. Something to be discussed. Dissected. So that all can see the breathtaking cosmos that came together to create you.”
He re-reads the letter four times before carefully folding it up and putting it in his purse. After three weeks, he had dedicated a specific space in his room to these letters. Somewhere safe where he could get to them. To re-read them to his heart’s content.
Besides the author of the letters thinking of him in such a beautiful manner, Angel likes the idea of having something for himself. He hasn’t told anyone about the letters. He doesn’t want to. He wants to keep this to himself.
Like a secret, that only he and the author know about.
Angel has started referring to him as the ‘Mystery Man’ in his head. True, there is absolutely nothing to say that the author is a man but Angel would be heartbroken if he isn’t. He can’t stand the idea that someone loves him this much and he isn’t able to love them back.
So he’s ‘Mystery Man’ in his head.
At first, Angel just liked the attention. But after a while, the idea that someone truly loves him made him weak in the knees.
And more than that, Mystery Man sees him. More than just the casual viewers of Angel’s shows. He notices things about Angel that Angel didn’t even notice.
And he isn’t the only one benefitting from these letters. Valentino is delighted to see Angel happy, performing better than he ever has before.
Of course, he thinks it’s for him.
But no. It’s because Angel knows Mystery Man is watching. And he wants more than anything to impress him.
Even though he doesn’t know who he is.
Not that he doesn’t try.
After four weeks, he starts paying more attention to his fans. But every time he thinks he knows who it is, he’s proven wrong. Either they had to have been at two places at once or Angel just knows it isn’t him.
It hits him as he lovingly puts the letter in its designated space, that he’s in love with this Mystery Man.
He’s in love with words on a page. With an idea.
And yet,
He’s never been happier.