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It didn’t rain very often in Hell. In fact, it rained so infrequently that most sinners and demons felt fine going out without an umbrella or rain gear. The odds were almost always with them, so it was usually pointless to bother checking the weather.
Except when the odds went against them.
Angel cursed as he opened the studio door and realized it was pouring outside. Everyone else had already left, so he couldn’t ask for a lift or to borrow an umbrella on the off-chance anyone had one. He didn’t have any money, and he wasn’t in the mood to offer his services to strangers for rides.
He was stuck.
“I guess I can walk…” Angel sighed to himself. Being furry in Hell came with several disadvantages, number one being it was a giant pain when he got wet. But, he figured, he wasn’t going to melt.
It had clearly been raining for a while when he stepped out, immediately splashing into a puddle. He frowned – well, there went his suede boots. He held his purse above his head, not that it did much in keeping him dry, but it at least kept the rain drops from dripping into his eyes.
Something in his stomach twisted. The shoot hadn’t actually been bad, but being on set today had put him in a rotten mood. His co-star was new, and cute. Knew his way around a porn set, too – Angel barely had to fake anything at all. Angel had been on the verge of asking if he wanted to get drinks when the other actor started talking about their partner waiting for them at home and how excited they were to get back to them for dinner.
Oh.
At the time, Angel had just laughed it off and said something about if they wanted a threesome to call him. He hid the gut punch well.
It wasn’t that he necessarily wanted to date his scene partner. It was just… well. Hell was lonely. Angel was lonely. He wasn’t lacking for company when they paid, but he didn’t want them to pay. He wanted someone to want to spend time with him without anything else in return.
His shoulders slumped as he felt himself slowly begin to spiral. He just had to get back to the hotel, then he could climb in bed and block everything out. One foot in front of the other.
Angel’s mind shifted to something Charlie had said earlier. During one of their talk sessions, she’d been yammering about gratitude or something. How he should be grateful he’d even had the chance to live at all, because the chances of anyone being born was so infinitesimally small. He knew she meant the comment in kindness, but it had only made him feel worse.
The chances of him living a life were so small, and what had he done with it? Did he have anything to show? It had been decades since his death – any traces of him left over on Earth were gone, except for maybe a few FBI cold case files. All he’d left behind was a string of corpses and a family that were eternally disappointed in him that he couldn’t even escape in this fucking pit.
Angel gasped as he felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes and he hastily wiped at them with the back of his hand, growling in frustration. He knew his mascara was staining his fur now, it would take forever to get it out. Fuck.
He stopped and took a few breaths, shoving the lump in his throat down. When the fuck had he become this much of a pussy? He used to be able to brawl in the street, snap limbs, rip flesh off without so much of a sniffle. Now he went to pieces at anything. It was pissing him off.
Don’t be stupid, Angel, the spider thought to himself. You know why.
It was the damn hotel. That goddamn, fucking, piece of shit hotel and that stupid piece of shit princess who only wanted to help him and got rid of every fucking substance that left him numb to his miserable, lonely existance goddammit why was he thinking like this again –
Angel bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. The taste of blood helped him center himself a little, catch himself before he truly gave in.
Whatever entity in Hell that controlled the weather seemed to sense his mood as the severity of the rain increased, becoming almost painful as the needle-like raindrops hit him and soaked into his skin. He increased his pace, splashing a few steps before a light reflected in the puddle under his boot caught his interest.
Someone had turned the light on in the Penthouse of Porn Studios.
Angel paused, lowering his purse, just letting the rain hit him and run down his hair and face. He stared up at the warm glow coming from the windows of the Penthouse.
He wasn’t that far away now. He could go back to the studio, head into the private elevator and ask Valentino to let him stay. Angel knew Val would say yes. He never denied any opportunity to have Angel. He could feel the wings wrapped around him as they rolled around in silken sheets and pretend he was wanted.
He could already hear the things Valentino would purr to him.
You’re so beautiful, baby. You’re the most talented bitch on set, sweetheart. I love you, Angel.
That fucking lump was back in his throat again. Angel reached up to yank at his hair in frustration before finally spinning on his heel and marching towards the hotel. Sure, if he went back to the studio he’d feel wanted for the night, but he knew what it would lead to in the morning. Cold sheets and hot bruises.
He realized he’d been standing in a puddle, staring into space. The rain had continued, and now the puddle had pooled up to his ankles and was spilling into his boots. He clucked his tongue in annoyance. He hated having squishy feet. With a sigh, he splashed his way back onto the higher sidewalk and turned back for the hotel again.
He wrapped his arms around himself to keep warm as he walked, trying not to fall deeper into self-loathing and failing horribly.
Angel did at least have a small stroke of good luck once he opened the door to the hotel – it was late enough that everyone, even Husk and Alastor, seemed to have retreated to their bedrooms for the night. Thankful for small mercies, Angel made his way to the bar. He didn’t want to deal with speaking to anyone when he was in this fragile mental state.
He hopped the counter to the bar and spidered his way up to the very top shelf, near the ceiling, where Husk kept the very best whiskey. He’d pay the cat back eventually. At least that’s what he told himself as he dropped back down to the floor and ripped the cork off with his teeth. He hadn’t had anything stronger than coffee in days and now if he didn’t he was quite sure all of his skin was going to simply crawl off his body.
Something else Charlie had said popped into his mind as he tipped the burning liquid down his throat.
“Remember, Angel, if you’re feeling bad, just try to think of H.A.L.T.! Are you Hungry, Angry, Lonely or Tired? If you’re any of those things, then you can try to deal with it and you’ll feel better!”
Problem was, Angel was always hungry, angry, lonely and tired. Especially lonely.
“Looks like it’s me an’ you tonight, whiskey bottle,” Angel said, hugging the bottle to his sternum. For some reason pressure on his chest always seemed to ease the horrible feelings a little bit. At least he could check ‘thirsty’ off the list.
The spider moved for the stairs, swigging at the bottle as he did so, waiting for the alcohol to hit his brain and finally numb all those racing thoughts. He caught his face in the reflection of a mirror in the hallway as he passed by. He was bedraggled, wet, mascara running down his face, the whiskey bottle, already half empty, hanging from his claws. He snorted and swayed on the spot, jabbing his finger into his reflection.
“Yer a real piece of shit, Tony. Ya know that, huh. That’s why ya gonna be alone forever, ya stupid fuckin’ piece of… of…” He could feel the tears welling up again, and he grabbed the frame of the mirror as if he were trying to grab himself by the shoulders. “Stop! Stop it, Angel! It’s okay! It’s okay if you’re alone forever. Ya can live yer afterlife still… it’s okay.” He stepped back from the mirror, looking down at the floor to follow the carpet’s pattern to his room. “It’s okay…”
Fat Nuggets was waiting for Angel when he returned to his room, winding his fat little body around Angel’s ankles when he stepped in. He couldn’t help but smile – sometimes his pig was the only thing that kept him from finding angelic steel and just doing himself in.
“Hey Nuggies,” Angel said softly, dumping the now empty whiskey bottle into his wastebasket and slumping onto his bed to tug off his wet shoes. The pig brought a jingly ball over to him, and Angel picked it up, throwing it across the room and watching the pig chase it.
He threw it a few more times for his pet before going to his vanity and blow-drying himself to at least somewhat damp instead of soaked. That would be good enough. He’d just ask Niffty to bring him some dry sheets in the morning.
Angel flopped back onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. He didn’t feel better - he didn’t really feel anything. He just felt exhausted.
“Prob’ly from tryin’ not ta cry all the damn time,” he muttered to Nuggets as the pig climbed into bed with him, snorting softly. He nudged the ball under Angel’s hand, but Angel just pulled the pig to his chest instead, pulling his knees up to curl in on himself.
“No more fetch, Nuggs… not tonight. Daddy’s too…” he knew Nuggets didn’t really know English, but he wracked his brain for the right word anyway. Not coming up with anything, he just sighed. “Too tired.”
His phone on the nightstand lit up and he rolled over to look at it. Text from Val. Schedule for tomorrow. Business as usual.
As Angel started to doze off, he could just about hear the rain outside start to peter off. Of course. He pulled the pillow closer to himself and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to fall asleep faster.
Maybe in his dreams he would be loved.