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Angel felt his heart stop the moment Charlie had told him that the brakes for the train were cut. He did not even hesitate or argue, he immediately vaulted onto the tracks with a cry of Husk’s name, firing his gun at the ropes binding the cat down.
Angel swung up onto the rails as Husk struggled beneath him. One set of ropes had snapped under the gunfire, but the rest held fast. That was when Angel realized that there was a separate set of ropes, wrapped tightly around Husk’s wings and arms.
The train horn blared again, closer now, the sound vibrating through the tracks.
“Shit, Husk!” Angel yelled as he tried ripping the ropes away. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you outta here!”
Angel began tugging at the ropes, his claws scraping uselessly against the thick nylon. Husk’s own claws were pinned beneath his body, his wings tucked painfully close, leaving him helpless to assist.
The train thundered closer.
“You gotta go, Legs!” Husk shouted, panic in his voice. “I ain’t letting you die for me!”
“Like hell!” Angel shot back, tears burning in his eyes as he pulled harder. “I ain’t leavin’ you to die, Whiskers!”
Angel’s thoughts were going a mile a minute. If I just pull harder, faster…! If I don’t think-!
The light from the oncoming train suddenly spilled over them, casting long shadows across the tracks. Husk growled weakly, and then, in that split second, made a decision he knew Angel would never forgive him for.
With a desperate burst of strength, Husk tucked in his legs and kicked. Angel was struck hard in the abdomen.
“HU—!”
Angel tumbled backward off the tracks, twisting midair in frantic desperation to grab hold again. His fingers scraped empty air before he slammed into the hotel’s edge, barely managing to cling to the rooftop.
Time then almost seemed to slow down.
The train’s light flooded the tracks, illuminating the terror in Husk’s eyes. He took one last look at Angel, who was already scrambling, trying to jump back.
That was when Husk saw Vaggie diving from above, wings straining in a last-ditch effort to get him out of the way.
Husk knew that she would not make it in time.
Please…forgive me, Angel…
Pain suddenly exploded through Husk’s abdomen, and something struck his side hard.
Then everything went dark.
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The sound of the train’s collision with Husk’s body would forever haunt Angel’s nightmares.
The screeching of metal, the crunching of bones, the iron stench of blood flooding his nose… Angel clutched his head as his ears rang, the world collapsing into noise and horror.
This is my fault. I should’ve been faster. I should’ve been stronger. I should’ve…
Sound was muffled around him when he forced his eyes open again, and he wished he never did.
The tracks were soaked in blood; red and black feathers were scattered everywhere. Husk’s body lay curled up on one side of the rails.
“No…” he whispered, voice breaking. “No, no, no!”
Without thinking, Angel leapt back onto the tracks, praying to someone, anyone, that Husk had somehow survived. That the blood was not as bad as it looked.
Angel did not stop until he reached Husk and pulled him up into his arms. A weak groan left the cat demon’s throat.
“Oh, thank fuck…” Angel breathed, relief crashing through him, only to freeze a second later as he felt how light Husk was.
Too light…
He felt a constant flow of fresh, sticky blood staining his front, but that hardly phased him while he jumped back onto the hotel rooftop.
“Get me a first aid kit and some blankets!” he yelled as he placed Husk carefully on the ground.
He barely registered someone running back inside the hotel as he focused on Husk, blood quickly pooling beneath him. His hands shook as he pressed them to Husk’s torso, frantically searching for the wound.
Angel suddenly froze. His stomach twisted violently, bile burning his throat, as it took all of his willpower to not turn away.
Husk’s entire lower half was gone.
The angelic spear had torn through his abdomen. The train had finished the rest. His legs, his tail, completely severed.
Angel felt his eyes burning.
I didn’t save him. I didn’t save him. I-
A blanket was suddenly thrown at him, which was enough to break him from his thoughts. He immediately covered Husk with the blanket, which quickly became soaked through with blood. Husk barely seemed aware, words slurring, eyes fluttering.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Angel swore. “Hold on, Husk, okay? Just…just don’t look down…”
“A…An…gel…?” Husk managed to say, voice barely above a whisper.
“Don’t talk, Husk,” Angel spoke, hands holding Husk close, leaving bloodied handprints on whatever they touched. “Save your strength. We’re gonna get you help.”
“H…he…help?” Husk questioned, eyes barely focused. “I…I don’t…Ang…I can’t…I can’t…feel…my legs…”
Angel looked around desperately, his eyes finally falling on Charlie, who stood there like a deer in headlights. Tears were running down her face, her hands gripping at her hair.
“What the fuck do I need to do?!” he cried out, hands tightening around Husk’s head as his own tears fell. “You caused this, Charlie! You need to help him!”
Charlie burst into full sobs then, completely at a loss. Not at what to do…but at knowing that there was absolutely nothing that could be done for Husk now.
Deep down, even Angel knew there was nothing he could do to save his best friend.
A wound like this would normally be survivable, even in Hell. But Husk’s wounds were beyond even what their demonic regeneration can heal.
Those who survived wounds caused by angelic weapons would never truly heal. The wounds would never close, and would continue to bleed for as long as they remained alive.
A wound like this…Husk had no chance…and that broke Angel’s heart.
“A…An…Angel…?” Husk slurred, his blown pupils trying to focus on the spider demon above him.
Angel swallowed hard, pressing his forehead to Husk’s.
Say something! Say anything that doesn’t sound like a lie!
“It’s okay,” he whispered, forcing his voice to be calm. “You don’t gotta feel nothin’. Just listen to me, yeah?”
Husk’s ears twitched weakly. Angel stroked them with shaking fingers.
“You…you remember that dumb little song you sung to me?” he murmured. “The one after you saved me from those sharks?”
A faint, almost-smile ghosted Husk’s mouth.
“Yeah… s’bad…”
“It ain’t,” Angel said, tears dripping into Husk’s fur. “I needed it. We’re…we’re both losers together. I…I need my favourite loser to stay with me…”
“Angel…I…didn’t…want you hurt…” Husk’s breathing hitched.
“I know,” Angel sobbed quietly. “I know. But you don’t get to decide that without me.”
Husk’s eyes fluttered again, struggling to focus.
“You…gonna be okay…?”
Angel laughed weakly, broken.
“Yeah…yeah, sure. I got this. I always do, remember?”
Liar.
Husk’s breathing slowed. Angel held him tighter, rocking slightly, whispering nonsense and apologies and promises he knew he could not keep.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered over and over. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve been faster. I should’ve seen it. I should’ve…”
Husk’s claws twitched weakly against Angel’s arm.
“Hey,” Angel whispered, catching the movement. “Hey, I’m here.”
“…I…love…you…” Husk breathed, closing his eyes. “I…I’m sorry…I didn’t…didn’t tell…you…sooner…”
Angel’s breath caught as he shook his head. He could hardly believe what he was hearing.
All this time…? All this time, he…?
“Yeah,” he quickly whispered back, not wanting Husk to have even a second of doubt. “I know…I love you too, Husky...”
With his heart unburdened, Husk exhaled softly…
…and did not breathe in again.
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Angel did not move.
He stayed curled around Husk’s body, petting his ears long after the warmth began to fade. Not caring that he had an audience, the spider demon let out the most heart wrenching cry anyone had ever heard him make.
Angel barely noticed the footsteps approaching him slowly.
“Angel…I…I’m so sorry,” Charlie whispered behind him, voice shaking. “I didn’t mean-”
Angel finally looked up.
“Don’t you dare even finish that sentence,” he snapped, voice heavy with barely contained sorrow and anger.
Charlie was crying, hands clasped tight, eyes red and desperate.
“I didn’t know the brakes were cut,” she sobbed. “I swear, I never would’ve done that to Husk if I had known!”
Angel’s chest hurt. Not with rage, not yet, but with something sharper. He stood slowly, still cradling Husk.
“You put him on those tracks,” Angel said, voice dangerously quiet now. “You used Vaggie’s spear. You knew it was dangerous.”
“I thought I had a way to stop it!”
“Husk died for your mistakes!” Angel yelled. “You were so desperate to be right that you didn’t care what you had to do to prove it!”
Charlie flinched.
“You don’t get to gamble with people’s lives!” Angel continued, tears spilling freely now. “You don’t get to decide who’s worth the risk just so you can prove a point!”
“I didn’t mean-!”
“I know…” Angel cut in, voice softer now, almost pleading. “That’s the worst part. You didn’t mean to…you never do…but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s still gone…and he’s never coming back…”
Charlie collapsed to her knees, sobbing. Vaggie ran over to comfort her, but even Angel could see the haunted look in her eye, showing that she saw the truth behind his words. Angel turned away.
Vox’s laughter echoed distantly. Velvette’s voice followed, sharp and mocking. Angel ignored it all.
He adjusted his grip on Husk, burying his face in familiar fur.
“I’m gonna take you somewhere quiet,” he whispered. “Somewhere safe. I promise.”
Angel walked back inside the hotel without looking back, ignoring Charlie’s cries.
Deep down, he knew Vox had set the trap. He knew who had cut the brakes.
But it was Angel who had not been fast enough, and it was Charlie who had put Husk in harm’s way.
Angel could live with guilt, but he could never forgive this, no matter what her intentions may have been. He could no longer look at Charlie with hope, or even as a friend. All he would see was the person who willingly put her friends at risk…and killed the one person in his afterlife who meant everything to him.
Husk deserved better than this place.
Angel would bury him somewhere safe. Somewhere quiet. Then, only then, would Angel return one last time to collect Fat Nuggets and whatever pieces of his life remained.
He did not want to return to Vee Tower, but he would figure something out, he always did. All he knew at that moment was that he could no longer stay here.
The Hazbin Hotel was no longer his home.
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Angel did not remember walking.
He did not remember the doors opening, or the way the lobby lights blurred together, or how many voices shouted his name. His body moved on its own, carrying Husk like he was something precious, while his mind drifted somewhere far away.
Everything felt distant. Muted. As if the world had been turned off and he was trapped in his own head. His chest hurt in a dull, constant way, but the tears had stopped. He only felt numbness now.
People tried to speak to him, but Angel did not hear them. Someone reached out, grabbing his arm, and Angel flinched so hard he nearly dropped Husk.
“Fuck off!” he screamed, not even sure who he was talking to as he shoved them away.
He left Pentagram City’s streets behind, moving until the noise faded. The place he chose was not anywhere special, just a quiet stretch of land outside the city where nothing ever grew and no one ever came. Somewhere he came to whenever he wanted to get away from it all.
Angel lowered himself to his knees, and only then did his hands start to shake.
“I should’ve brought you here before,” he murmured numbly. “You would’ve liked it. It’s quiet, and there are no idiots out to kill us here.”
He dug the grave himself.
No jokes, no commentary, no running his mouth to keep the silence away.
Every movement felt mechanical, detached, as if he were watching someone else from far above. His arms worked on instinct alone, his muscles aching, his mind empty.
When the hole was finally finished, Angel laid Husk down gently.
He straightened the blanket, smoothed his fur, and adjusted his ears the way he always did when Husk pretended not to care.
“I don’t…I don’t know what I’m supposed to say,” Angel admitted quietly. “You were always the one who knew what to say…
Silence answered him. Angel swallowed.
“I keep thinkin’ I’ll wake up,” he said. “That this is just another nightmare and you’re gonna be waiting for me at the bar with my favourite drink…”
His voice cracked, but no tears came.
“I don’t get to save people,” he whispered after another beat. “That’s not what I’m good at. I just make things worse. I always do.”
He hesitated, then pulled something from his chest fluff.
One of Husk’s playing cards, bent and worn. Angel had taken a couple after their fight with the loan sharks. A stupid little thing that meant everything to him.
Angel placed it carefully over Husk’s chest.
“I should’ve protected you,” he said hoarsely. “That was my job…and I failed.”
Angel then covered him. Each scoop felt heavier than the last, until the weight in his chest threatened to crush him from the inside out.
When it was over, Angel stayed kneeling there, staring at the grave.
He felt nothing. He did nothing.
There was no sobbing, no screaming. There was just emptiness.
Something inside his had closed, tight and cold, and he knew, distantly, that it was not going to open again anytime soon, if ever again.
Husk’s death changed everything.
Angel did not laugh the same after that. He did not flirt like he used to. He did not even touch people unless he had to for his job.
When Val or anyone else raised their voice, Angel shut down completely. When Vox talked about risks, about sacrifice, something sharp and ugly twisted in his chest.
He stopped believing people when they promised things would be okay. Especially himself.
He left the hotel before dawn, without saying goodbye, without looking back. All he had left of Husk was a singular playing card that he carried like a precious jewel.
Fat Nuggets was the only reason Angel had not done anything worse.
Every night, the pig curled against his chest, warm and solid and real, as if he could sense the way Angel was unravelling. When the nightmares came, and they always did, Fat Nuggets was there, snuffling softly, grounding Angel just enough to keep him tethered to the world.
Angel clung to that small weight like a lifeline.
During the day, he dulled everything else.
His reliance on drugs came roaring back, stronger than ever; not for fun, not for escape, but for silence. Sobriety hurt too much. Every clear thought circled back to the same truths he could not handle sitting with for long.
He’s gone. I failed him.
So, Angel stayed numb.
Somewhere deep down, beneath the haze and the exhaustion, he knew this grief was not something he would ever outrun. He knew the ache in his chest would linger for years, maybe forever.
He just tried not to be lucid for most of it.
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It hit him one night when the drugs had not kicked in fast enough.
Angel sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands, Fat Nuggets pressed against his thigh. He ignored his phone, which had not stopped buzzing since he left the hotel. His hands were shaking as he fumbled with a small bag containing a handful of little white pills.
Then he heard it. Not a new voice, not a real sound. Just a memory.
Husk, leaning against the bar, ears flicked back, eyes narrowed with that familiar mix of irritation and concern.
“You’re gonna hurt yourself, Legs.”
Angel froze as his throat tightened painfully.
“Don’t,” he whispered to the empty room. “Don’t do that.”
But the image did not fade.
Husk’s gaze softened, the way it always did when Angel was spiralling after a hard day.
“You think I stuck around just to watch you kill yourself?”
Angel squeezed his eyes shut.
“I know,” he rasped. “I know you’d hate this.”
His chest burned. The truth settled heavy and undeniable.
Husk would hate the drugs, the constant mess, the way Angel barely ate, barely slept, barely existed. Husk would hate that Angel let himself fall apart like this. And worst of all…Husk would blame himself.
Angel’s hands curled into fists.
“That’s the problem,” he whispered bitterly. “You ain’t here to stop me anymore.”
His fingers trembled as he lifted his hand holding the pills.
“I don’t get happy endings,” Angel murmured. “I get this…and it’s what I deserve.”
Fat Nuggets let out a small sound, nudging closer.
Angel hesitated, just for a second. Then he dry swallowed them anyway.
The shame came later, dull and distant, quickly overshadowed by the familiar numbness. As the world softened around the edges, Angel slumped back against the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to no one. “I really am.”
The apology echoed uselessly in the dark. There was no reply.