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It had been a few weeks since the renovations to the Tower had finally stopped. Things were settling again. Slowly.
And if this was going to be his new life from now on, Angel would at least try to reclaim something Vox had taken from him.
...
Music vibrated through the dressing room floor.
Laughter. Glasses clinking. Voices celebrating him.
Valentino’s Day.
Angel sat in front of the mirror.
Smudged eyeliner.
Wet lashes.
Motionless.
The door opened without a knock.
—Not ready yet, Angel-cakes? —Valentino’s voice was light. Almost amused.
He stepped behind him, leaning over his shoulders. Long fingers adjusted a white-pink strand over Angel’s shoulder.
Angel didn’t react.
Val smiled at their reflection.
—Don’t tell me you’re going to do this to me tonight.
Silence.
—Come downstairs with me baby— he insisted, hands resting on the back of the chair—. I want them watching us.
Angel barely lifted his gaze.
—Watching us… or watching you with him?
The atmosphere shifted.
Val straightened slowly.
—Don’t start.
—You’re going to stand down there with Vox again? After everything he did? —Angel’s voice didn’t tremble, but it was cracked down the middle— Like I don’t exist. Because you don’t need to use me anymore.
Val rolled his eyes.
—It’s business.
—He was going to kill all of us. Just because of Alastor.
—Angie… —Val warned.
—I’m not going downstairs. You don't need me, you have him. It’s him. Always him.
Thicker silence.
—He’s never going to choose you Val—Angel continued—. He’s obsessed with Alastor. It was never about power. It’s about beating him. He uses you. Your image. Your body. And then he hides you.
Valentino’s jaw tightened.
—Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.
—Then explain it! —Angel stood— Why cling to someone who doesn’t put you first?
Val stepped closer.
—There are things that don’t break, Angel. Even if they hurt.
It didn’t sound like a threat.
It sounded like truth.
Angel noticed.
—We were happy before him.
A pause.
Brief.
Almost invisible.
—We were ambitious —Val corrected—. Don’t confuse that with happiness. Greed comes at a price. After all… you sold me your soul for drugs, money… and “love.”
That hurt more than any slap ever had.
Angel swallowed.
—Voxxy protects us. And I protect you.
—Because of him I betrayed my friends. My family. The only people who actually cared about me.
—Oh, Angel-cakes… always so dramatic. Vox did what was necessary to secure our future. The Alastor situation was a miscalculation. You should be grateful We take care of you.
—Grateful? He used me like a puppet! And you let him. You, who supposedly own my soul, let him inside my head. Why is it always him? Why does Vox get the last word on my life? On your studios? On everything?
Val removed his glasses calmly.
—Stop dramatizing. I know exactly what I’m doing. Everything I do is for us.
—You’re lying! He thinks you’re an idiot. He’s manipulating you—
Val didn’t step back.
—I stopped Vox. I saved all of you. You’re alive, aren’t you? Even your stupid friends from that stinking hotel! Everyone is safe!
—No. They’ll never be safe if I’m near them.
—Okay, okay. You take care of your stupid friends and I take care of mine. We’re a team. Me. Velvette. Vox, and that doesn't mean I forget about you, just like you always forget about me...
—And what am I? Ammunition?
—Stop comparing yourself to Vox. It’s not the same. You’re mine. My star. Don’t dramatize.
Angel laughed without humor.
—You’re not him. And you never will be.
—I don’t want to be Vox. I just want If you want me to be with you, I want you to give me my place!
Valentino closed the distance. He took Angel’s chin.
Not violently.
But firmly.
—Vox is my partner. My equal.
You’re mine. My whore. My toy.
Your place is with me. You chose it when you sold me your soul.
—Not like this! It wasn't what you promised me; you promised to take care of me. Love me.
Val’s gaze darkened.
—I LOVE YOU! but... You always make it so difficult!
Listen, Don’t confuse things. I don’t compare what belongs to me with what walks beside me.
Silence.
Angel felt it hit his chest.
—I chose you.
—I never asked you to. No one forced you. You always come back. You complain and cry, but you always come back blaming me for everything, just like a spoiled child. That's pathetic.
Something fractured.
—He’s never going to choose you Val. He doesn't love you
Valentino tightened his grip slightly.
—Wars have never been won with love.
He released him.
—You can’t win something you don’t even know how to play.
—I don’t want to beat Vox. I just want you to stop clinging to his lies. I want you to choose me.
Val looked at him for a long moment.
Something flickered in his eyes.
Something he would never admit.
Then he smiled.
Perfect.
—Angel… why do you cling so desperately to me loving you?
The silence was brutal.
Val wiped the smudged eyeliner away with almost cruel softness.
—Fix yourself. It’s my night. Don’t ruin it.
At the door, without turning:
—Amorcito, Don’t step into wars you don’t understand.
The Party
Music swallowed Angel before he reached the last step.
Pink lights. Floating cameras. Laughter that tasted like expensive champagne.
—There’s my star! —Valentino’s voice cut through the room.
Angel barely fixed his smile before a firm hand pulled him by the waist.
Valentino kissed him.
Slow.
Exaggerated.
Perfect for the cameras.
Flashes exploded.
For one second—just one—Angel closed his eyes and let himself pretend.
That he was being chosen.
That he was being looked at.
That the kiss wasn’t publicity.
Val’s hands slid down his back with elegant possession.
—Smile, Amorcito —he murmured against his mouth—. It’s my night.
Then the doors opened.
Valentino’s heart stalled for a split second. Vox was the only one missing from the party.
Ethan entered first, tablet in hand.
Val’s smile tightened.
—What the hell are you doing here? Where’s Vox? —Val muttered as Ethan approached.
—Congratulations, Mr. Valentino —Ethan said pleasantly—. Mr. Vox will be joining us shortly. He’s finalizing some details now that you’re the new CEO. He wants everything ready so you won’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll be assisting you in the meantime.
—Oh, shut up.
The celebration continued.
Then...
—Valentino!
The music dipped.
Not a dramatic entrance.
A calculated one.
It was him... Vox.
Impeccable suit.
Glowing screen.
Measured smile.
He stepped beside Valentino, nudging Angel aside without asking. As if the space had always belonged to him.
A hand rested at Val’s back.
A slight lean toward his ear.
—Don’t make a spectacle this time. We need to recover audience metrics.
Valentino lit up.
Literally.
His posture straightened.
His smile widened.
—Val? —Angel tried to reclaim his attention.
The moth’s fingers tightened slightly at Angel’s waist, a silent warning not to interrupt.
Flash. Flash. Flash.
Angel saw it.
How Valentino swelled under Vox’s attention.
Like he needed that reflection to exist.
After the photos, Vox was already looking at his phone.
Scrolling.
Checking numbers.
Answering messages.
Val kept smiling.
But his mouth tightened by a millimeter.
Angel leaned close enough that no one else could hear.
—See? He’s not even looking at you. It’s all image.
Val’s smile didn’t fall.
It hardened.
The lights dimmed.
The cake was rolled out.
Candles lit.
Applause.
—Blow them out, papito —Val said, looking at Angel.
—It’s your party.
—Blow them out.
The order disguised as a joke.
Angel understood. He knew Valentino’s tradition.
He leaned over the cake.
Closed his eyes.
He didn’t wish for money.
Or fame.
He wished for something he knew he wouldn’t get.
Before he could even blow out the candles...
Valentino shoved his face into the cake.
Laughter exploded.
Pink frosting smeared across his cheeks.
Sugar on his lashes.
Val laughed loud and genuine.
—Tradition, baby~
Cameras caught everything.
Angel lifted his head slowly.
Cream dripping down his chin.
He smiled. As always.
Val ran a finger along Angel’s cheek, gathering frosting.
He brought it to his mouth.
Tasted it.
Never breaking eye contact.
Possession.
Control.
Memory.
Behind them, Vox spoke without lifting his gaze.
—Mind the image, Val.
Val’s laughter dimmed.
Not completely.
Just enough.
Vox pocketed his phone.
—See you later Val.
No kiss.
No pause.
No lingering look.
He left.
Val watched him go.
One second.
Two.
The party kept going.
But in that extra second, Angel saw something no one else did.
It wasn’t love.
It was fear.
Val blinked and smiled again like nothing had happened.
Pulled Angel close for another photo.
The party continued.
With sugar still clinging to his lashes, Angel finally understood.
He had never been competing with Vox.
He had been competing with Valentino’s fear of being left alone.
And that was a war impossible to win with love alone.
Valentino wasn’t afraid of losing Angel. He belonged to him. Contractually.
But Vox was free.
And Vox could leave at any moment.
And Valentino knew it.
The Tower — After
The Tower was silent.
The echo of music had died hours ago.
Only the distant hum of neon remained.
Angel still had glitter on his temples, dried frosting in his hair. He hadn’t bothered cleaning it.
He sat on the edge of Valentino’s bed.
Waiting.
Valentino would surely want to unwrap his "birthday present"
The door opened without warning.
Val entered without looking at him at first.
Jewelry off.
Coat tossed aside.
—You left early, Angie.
Angel let out a soft laugh.
—I didn’t need to stay.
Silence.
Now Val looked at him.
No cameras.
No lights.
No audience.
—Don’t start. It was a good night. Don’t ruin it.
—Really? Was it?
Valentino walked to the small canteen and drank instead of answering.
—Did it hurt?
Val stiffened slightly.
—What?
—When Vox left like that.
The glass hit the table harder than necessary.
—When are you going to stop this absurd competition?!
—I’m not competing, Val.
Val stood in front of him.
—Then stop talking like you are.
—I don’t want to beat Vox. I want you to look at me Like you used to do. The way you look at him now.
That was worse than any accusation. Something small cracked behind Val’s eyes.
—Angie. Don’t look at me like that.
—Like what?
Val brushed dried sugar from Angel’s cheek.
Soft.
Almost tender.
—Like I could give you that.
There it was.
Not a confession.
Not an apology.
But truth.
Angel’s chest sank.
—I loved you when you had nothing. When you didn’t need anyone’s approval.
—I didn’t ask you to— It sounded tired.
—Did you ever love me? Even a little?
Val didn’t answer. Because any answer would break something. So he smiled.
Perfect.
—You’re mine.
Angel closed his eyes.
—That’s not the same.
Silence.
—You’re never going to take Vox’s place.
—Wars aren’t won with love… remember? But that doesn’t mean they don’t hurt.
—I don’t have to choose you. We’ll always be together.
—Because of the contract.
Ice clinked in Val’s glass.
—Choose you? You already belong to me. You signed. You stayed. You always come back. Why should I choose what’s already mine?
—Because it’s not the same.
Val stepped closer.
—Careful what you wish for, Angelito. If I truly chose you, "Angel Dust" would disappear. And what would I gain? Your love won’t pay bills. Won’t build empires. Won’t get you your drugs or your fame. Think about someone other than yourself for once.
The knife.
—You talk about loyalty? You left. You lied. You ran to that pathetic hotel. Vox doesn’t belong to me. He’s not bound by contract. And he stayed.
—You said you’d protect me.
That one pierced.
—And what do you think you did to me? You lived there for months. Smiling at me while lying. You want me to choose someone who walks away the moment it hurts?
Not shouted.
Worse.
—You always had the option to leave. I never forced you to stay.
—You don't have to say it, it's in the contract, Val.
—I don’t want to belong out of obligation.
—That’s what there is.— Val turned toward the cracked window. —This is Hell. Still dreaming of fairy-tale boyfriends? I give you luxury. Security. Fame. Everything you want. More than you deserve. You’re special to me. Isn’t that enough?
He pressed his forehead to Angel’s.
Not tender.
Not cruel.
—That’s the closest thing you’re ever going to get.
Therein lay the truth; it wasn't that he didn't want to, it's that he couldn't. Or perhaps it was a little of both
—What else do you want, Anthony?— There's his full real name, this was serious.
Angel stepped back. —I want love. Real love. Not contracts.
—What do you know about love?
—That it doesn’t feel like a cage.
Silence.
—I loved you. Papito~Did you forget?—
—What changed? Val
Val smiled without joy.
—I learned. When will you learn?
He didn’t stop Angel when he walked to the door.
Didn’t grab him.
Didn’t claim him.
Because claiming is easy.
Choosing is something else.
The door closed.
Val stood alone.
He didn’t follow.
Didn’t call.
He just lifted a hand to his face.
And for one second—
Just one—
He stopped smiling.
—You’re mine. You’ll always be with me…
…whether you want to or not.
He murmured it to the empty room.