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In Angel Dust's mind, two voices are constantly at war.
The first one is soft, sounding like Cherri, and filled with (platonic) love, it keeps whispering— You're perfect.
The second is louder, sharper, dripping with venom. It sounds just like Valentino, and it never stops reminding him— You're not enough.
Angel believes the second one more.
••••
It started off innocent enough.
The first time Val told him he had "probably put on a few pounds" and that "if he kept going, he wouldn’t be selling anymore," Angel wanted to laugh right in his stupid face.
He had a beautiful body, a perfect figure. He knew that. It was the one thing he was sure of. His body was the reason Valentino wanted him.
And yet, a seed of doubt took root deep in his heart. From that moment on, he found himself looking in the mirror a little more often. Running anxious fingers over his stomach, his thighs. Comparing himself to others, again and again.
At first, he just skipped breakfast.
Not all at once, of course. It was a slow process, barely noticeable even to himself. Every now and then, he’d just let it slide, shrugging it off with a casual "I had a big dinner," or "I’ll eat at work."
(Lie. Lie. Lie.)
Over time, he stopped eating in the mornings altogether. But was that really so bad? It wasn’t like it would kill him. He'd be fine. Right?
••••
Later, he stopped eating at work too.
One day, during a break between shoots, he was about to eat a sandwich when Valentino strolled up, exhaling a cloud of pink smoke right into his face.
"You know, it'd be better if you didn’t eat that."
"What? Why?" Angel asked, frowning.
"Don’t play dumb, sweetheart. Everyone can see you’ve let yourself go. You really think anyone’s gonna want a fat whore?"
Angel didn’t want to hear it. He wanted to argue, to say he wasn’t fat—but he didn’t. Deep down, he knew Valentino was right. When he looked in the mirror, all he saw was his body growing heavier, softer, wrong.
So, he threw the sandwich away. Lunches stopped tasting good.
For a while, Cherri had been making him meals for work. She’d noticed how exhausted he was, dragging himself through endless hours of shoots, and just wanted to help. His best friend cared so much, but… he didn’t want to eat at work anymore. So he told her to stop.
"Why?" she asked, confused.
At first, he didn’t know what to say.
"You know, I’ve always liked making my own food. Even something as simple as a sandwich—it’s kinda relaxing. I’d like to get back to that."
It wasn’t entirely a lie.
He really had loved cooking once. But lately, even the thought of making food made his stomach twist—made something inside him recoil in disgust. He didn’t know why. He just knew he didn’t want to eat lunch anymore.
Eventually, he stopped bringing food to work altogether. And Cherri didn’t need to know.
Was that really so bad?
••••
As the months passed, things only got worse.
Valentino brought in three new whores to the studio. All of them were thinner than him—much thinner. And Val never let him forget it. He kept making comments, kept reminding him that if he didn’t get his act together, he might not be number one for much longer.
(So what if those new girls had probably died before even reaching adulthood? So what if they were forever trapped in the slim bodies of teenagers, never able to gain weight? What mattered to Angel was that their costumes had to be taken in—while his had to be let out.)
A few months ago, Charlie had decided that shared dinners would help the hotel residents bond. So now, almost every evening, everyone gathered in the dining hall—no one wanting to refuse the Princess of Hell. Even Alastor "graciously" played along.
Angel used to enjoy those dinners. Surprisingly, they were actually kind of nice. But now...
They didn’t bring him comfort anymore. No relief after long, grueling hours at work. Now, just thinking about them filled him with nothing but dread—because it meant he would have to eat. He felt anger watching the others eat and stay thin. Anger, because he knew he couldn’t.
Shame—because deep down, he didn’t want to.
So, he didn’t.
At first, he wasn’t sure how to pull it off. He couldn’t just leave his plate untouched—someone would notice. But... it turned out to be easier than he thought.
Most of the time, he’d say Valentino needed him back at the studio early. It usually wasn’t even a lie. And if sometimes he left earlier than necessary—just to skip a meal? Well, no one had to know.
It was trickier on nights when he didn’t have a shift. When he left after dinner and came back before the next one. But he figured that out, too.
All he had to do was keep the conversation going—keep people distracted while absently moving his food around his plate. Sometimes, he’d sneak bits to Fat Nuggets, who lingered under the table. He’d perfected the art of rearranging his plate to make it look emptier—like he’d eaten most of it.
Still, sometimes he couldn’t hide it. On those nights, he’d slip away to the bathroom afterward, staying there for long minutes. His body had grown used to throwing up.
Luckily, no one had noticed.
••••
Given all that, it was no surprise that after a few months, he had stopped eating dinner, too.
His stomach ached with hunger all the time, but he didn’t care. He tried to mask it—even from himself—by constantly drinking water and chewing gum, but it didn’t help. All it did was make him go to the bathroom more often.
His stomach still hurt.
Valentino was still unhappy. He kept grabbing at the sagging folds of Angel’s disgusting body, pointing out how his costumes were always too tight. (Angel never considered that Val was deliberately having them made smaller—just for his own amusement.) The new models kept getting thinner and thinner. (So what if they were also getting younger? Angel didn’t even notice anymore.)
He was still fat.
He covered every mirror in his hotel room. He couldn’t bear to look at himself. He was disgusting. The only mirror left was a small one on his vanity—just enough to do his makeup. Because of that, he started letting fewer people into his room, coming up with excuse after excuse. If someone did manage to visit (usually Cherri or Charlie), he made sure to uncover all the mirrors beforehand. He hated doing it, but sometimes, it was unavoidable.
To them, everything seemed fine. No one noticed anything was wrong.
••••
He spent less and less time with the other hotel residents. He was becoming increasingly exhausted after long hours of shooting and recording, sometimes stretching up to twenty hours straight. He simply didn’t have the energy for socializing. As a result, his routine was reduced to work, sleep, and attending Charlie’s meetings (where he would often end up dozing off, because after so many hours in the studio, he just couldn’t focus on anything).
Only when filming scenes or having private sessions with Valentino did he have to stay awake. He tried to act like he used to, and probably succeeded—because Val hadn’t beaten him for it yet. This led him to return to the hotel, where all he could think about was lying down in bed and sleeping until his next shift.
He didn’t notice the concerned glances Cherri, Charlie, and eventually even Husk and Vaggie cast his way. He didn’t hear the quiet conversations about him. He was too lost in his own exhausted mind to notice any of it.
••••
Cherri was worried. She had noticed troubling signs for some time, but at first, she couldn’t connect them to anything. Of course, she noticed her friend getting thinner month by month, becoming smaller and smaller, but she didn’t immediately link it to the fact that she rarely saw him eating anything. For a long time, she didn’t think there was anything alarming. (For just as long, she didn’t realize that her friend was becoming nothing but skin and bones. Everything was happening gradually.) (She would regret for the rest of her life not doing anything sooner.)
After a while, she also noticed that Angel wasn’t spending as much time with her as he used to. In fact... he stopped spending time with anyone altogether. She only saw him occasionally when he left or returned from the studio and during Charlie’s meetings. Even during those rare moments they met, Angel seemed strangely absent. She didn’t know what to do about it. She didn’t want to say anything because she knew her friend would immediately deny that anything was wrong. That’s just the way he was. So she stayed silent. It was a mistake.
Charlie could tell something was wrong with Angel. Contrary to what many people thought, she wasn’t stupid or oblivious. She often noticed more than others. The problem was her overly optimistic nature. It distorted her view of the world, and often, even when she saw something, she unintentionally ignored it.
But this time, something was definitely wrong. She barely saw Angel anymore. He only showed up to her meetings (not all of them, but the ones he could – work), and even then, he acted differently than before. He practically stopped interrupting her with sarcastic or inappropriate comments and no longer complained about every activity she came up with. In fact... he almost completely stopped talking, only answering her questions. He started disappearing. After some time, she noticed that this wasn’t just a mental change, but a physical one. Angel started to take up less space. She had the feeling that he was getting thinner. She didn’t want to believe it, because Angel had always been the thinnest person she had ever known, but it was true. However, she didn’t say anything. After what happened in the studio, she didn’t want to interfere with his personal matters. It was a mistake.
Husk should have noticed the changes first. After all, he was a bartender, reading people like open books. This time, he didn’t. It took him much longer than it should have to realize something was wrong with his friend. Angel hid it well. He still smiled and tried to flirt with everything that moved (which, by the way, would make him get along really well with Zeus), but after a while, Husk noticed it was becoming rarer and more forced. He didn’t know what was happening, but he didn’t ask. He was just there if Angel wanted to talk. He didn’t want to push him this time. It was a mistake. (This time, he should have. Angel really needed a conversation.)
Vaggie was starting to get a little worried. Of course, it was about Angel. He was coming back to the hotel later and leaving earlier. Sometimes he was gone all day, only occasionally sending texts like, "I’ll be back late," "I won’t be back today," or "Had to leave early, Val wanted me in the studio." It was bad, but there was nothing she could do. Angel was tied to his contract. He had to obey Valentino. All she could do was watch as the spider demon grew more and more exhausted and faded before her eyes. She did nothing and said nothing. She wasn’t close enough to him. She didn’t believe he’d tell her anything. It was a mistake.
••••
It went on like this. Angel kept distancing himself more and more from everyone else. They couldn’t bring themselves to talk to him about it. Angel was pushing himself harder and harder, and they were getting more and more concerned. It could’ve gone on for a long time, but eventually, something happened that broke the cycle.
••••
Niffty decided to bake cookies. It was one of Charlie’s sessions, so everyone was in the living room. Since they were all there, the little demoness decided to force everyone to eat her baked goods. Nobody was particularly enthusiastic about it.
"Uh, Niffty, I'm not in the mood for sweets today," Charlie said.
"Me neither," mumbled Vaggie.
"I don’t like cookies," Cherri added.
"I don’t like sweets," Husk said flatly.
"I’m not hungry," Angel added.
Only Alastor stood there, still wearing that creepy smile.
Niffty looked at them with an expression that clearly said, “If you don’t eat these damn cookies, I’ll kill you in your sleep. I have the keys to all the rooms.” They shuddered and, of course, agreed.
Angel stared at the cookie in his hand with disgust. He really didn’t want to eat it, but he knew he had to this time. The others had already eaten theirs and said it wasn’t bad. He was the only one left. He closed his eyes and popped the cookie into his mouth. His stomach immediately twisted in protest. Angel smiled, ignoring the fact that the food was already starting to rise in his throat.
"Very good," he muttered to Niffty, even though he didn’t taste anything, too focused on the fact that he was actually eating. "Be right back," he added and quickly ran out of the room.
He rushed to the bathroom in his room and collapsed onto the cold tiles. He opened the toilet and carefully leaned over the bowl. He didn’t need to force himself to vomit. His body was so used to it, it came naturally. He began coughing, and spots danced in front of his eyes. The image blurred more and more until all he could see was darkness.
Meanwhile, the others started to worry.
"Where is he? It’s been twenty minutes," Cherri muttered.
They were silent for a moment until Cherri broke the silence. "I’m going to check on him," she said firmly, not waiting for anyone else. She made her way to Angel’s room.
When she arrived, she noticed the door to his room was wide open, but she couldn’t see him inside. Worried, she stepped in, apologizing silently to Angel for invading his privacy. She looked around the small room and, to her surprise, noticed the mirrors were covered. She saw the slightly ajar bathroom door. Hesitant but determined, she decided to go in.
Well, that was a good decision.
On the floor lay Angel, as pale as a wall (somehow, this was visible even through the fur on his body). She knelt down beside him. She looked around, trying to piece together what had happened. It seemed her friend had passed out while vomiting. (Why was he vomiting? Why had he fainted?)
She decided that she would figure out the answers later. For now, the best thing to do was just move Angel to his bed and wait for him to regain consciousness. She slipped her hands under his back, lifted him up, and... almost fell herself. Angel was much lighter (and more bony) than she remembered. She laid him on the bed and gently brushed his bangs off his face. She examined him more closely. Was it her imagination, or were his cheekbones sharper than before? His under-eye bags looked deep enough to rival the Mariana Trench.
She scanned the rest of his body. He was covered in bruises, some small, some large, and bite marks (at first glance, they were hidden under the fur on his body), but that was sadly normal when it came to her friend (how had she not visited that damn moth of a boss/master of Angel’s?). What worried her more was the fact that when she grabbed his arm, her hand easily wrapped around it. Sure, Angel had always been thin, but never this much. She scanned his figure again, and finally understood (it had taken her far too long).
Angel had been eating less and less. He was growing more and more exhausted. He was always distracted. He didn’t want her to make him breakfast for work anymore. He had vomited Niffty’s cookie. Her friend wasn’t eating, and she hadn’t noticed. He was starving himself, and she hadn’t helped. She was a terrible friend. She closed her eyes.
"Hey, Cherri, where the hell are you?!" Husk’s voice called from the living room.
"I’m coming!" she shouted back. She glanced at Angel, then stood up. "I’ll be right back," she muttered and went to join the others.
"What’s going on with him?" Charlie asked, concerned. Vaggie and Husk also looked at her questioningly. Niffty was chasing a bug, and Alastor had disappeared somewhere.
"He..." she stopped, unsure how to describe what she had just seen. "He fainted in his bathroom. He’s exhausted, emaciated, and injured. The last part is thanks to Valentino," she summarized. The others looked at her in shock.
"Is he okay?" Husk asked.
"As I said, he’s completely worn out, emaciated, and covered in bruises, wounds, and bite marks," Cherri replied, a bit irritated by Husk’s question. She seemed calm, but her eyes were filled with pure fear for her best friend. "You know what, I’m going back to him," she said and quickly left, not looking back. She knew Charlie would offer to go to him, but she didn’t want anyone else sitting with Angel now. He was HER best friend, HER Angie. She returned to his room and sat on the edge of the bed. She wanted to be as close to him as possible.
••••
Angel was unconscious for the next several hours. During this time, she had to kick Charlie out of the room five times, Husk twice, and even Vaggie once. On top of that, she had perfected the art of ignoring Valentino’s phone calls and text messages sent to Angel. However, Alastor had a harder time with it and at one point entered the room, threw the phone out of the window, and left muttering something about “damn new technology” and “freaking ringing boxes.”
Night came, and everyone else decided to go to sleep. At some point, she herself began to doze off lightly. She had been sitting in practically the same position for hours, not wanting to leave her friend’s side for even a second, so she almost screamed with joy when she noticed that Angel started to move slightly.
“Hey, Angie,” she lightly shook his shoulder. A moment later, Angel opened his eyes. “Oh Satan, I’m so glad you woke up. I was so worried. Don’t ever do that to me again!” She fired sentences at him like bullets, and Angel winced from (probably) the headache. “How do you feel?” she asked finally.
He blinked, as if trying to get rid of the spots in front of his eyes (and that’s probably what was happening), and spoke in a quiet, hoarse voice, “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” she asked. She knew Angel was lying.
“Definitely,” he replied more confidently.
“Why don’t I believe you?” she muttered.
“I don’t know,” he responded. It annoyed her terribly—he acted like nothing had happened.
“Angel, for fuck’s sake! Can you please stop pretending that nothing happened?! A few hours ago, I found you unconscious on the bathroom floor after you vomited Niffty’s cookie! You’re exhausted, starving, and fucking injured! Should I go on?!”
Angel stared at her for a moment, shocked by her sudden outburst. She didn’t want to yell, but she was so worried about him, and he was of course brushing everything off. It was terribly frustrating. She took a deep breath to calm herself and spoke again, this time more gently:
“Talk to me,” she begged. “Tell me what’s going on, Angie?”
His fragile mask, which he had worn on his face for months, finally shattered. Tears appeared in his eyes, and he began to quietly sob into her shoulder. It was... surprising. Angel had never been so emotional. He had always been strong, and even if things were bad, he pretended they were fine. Now, he had to be truly exhausted and broken.
“I... I don’t know anymore,” he whispered. “After the fight with the angels, Val’s been getting more aggressive. He keeps making me work for too many hours without a break, and then he takes it out on me in the bedroom. And... and... Cherri, fuck! I haven’t eaten in months! Val keeps telling me I’m fat and not good enough,” he paused for a moment. “He’s right,” he murmured. “He’s right!” This time his voice was more certain. “I’m a disgusting, ugly, fat whore!” he shouted, and in his voice, she heard nothing but anger and disgust for himself.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” she whispered.
“I... I don’t know. I guess I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Of how you would react,” he answered and fell silent again.
She felt angry with herself. How could she be such a terrible friend, that her best friend was afraid to tell her something? Why hadn’t she said anything herself? She had seen for a long time that something was wrong with Angel. She had been afraid. Afraid that she wouldn’t be able to help him, that she would turn out to be useless. Satan! She had been so selfish!
“Angel,” she muttered, and he looked up at her. “You’ll get through this. It will be hard, but you’ll manage. You’re strong, and if you let me, I’ll help you,” she reassured him and closed her tired eyes. The last thing she saw before falling asleep was a small smile on Angel’s face. His first genuine smile in months.
••••
In Angel Dust's mind, two voices are still battling, but now Cherri's is louder. She tells him that he's strong and that he'll be able to handle everything.
The one belonging to Valentino is barely audible and no longer has as much influence over Angel. It still occasionally surfaces, but that's when Cherri helps him overcome it.
It will be hard, it will take many months, but eventually, everything will fall into place.