Work Text:
6 unread messages
10:43PM - [this message has been deleted]
11:02PM - [this message has been deleted]
11:23PM - I know that you’re afraid to hurt us Angel, but what happened was not your fault. Nobody is mad at you. We want to help, but you need to talk with someone. If not to me that’s okay but at least answer to Cherri or Charlie. We’re all worried for you.
11:24PM - You’re not safe there, you know that. Just come back and we can find a solition together.
11:24PM - Your pig misses you.
11:37PM - *solution.
1 unread message
3:58AM - Angel, please, at least tell me if everything is ok there?
8 unread messages
8:03AM - [photo]
8:03AM - He’s hungry.
8:03AM - Didn’t eat shit yesterday.
8:04AM - Well except for Cherri’s make-up and my countertop. Not sure what a pig should eat but it’s definitely not that.
8:07AM - [photo]
8:07AM - Gave him peanuts. He’s happy now.
8:08AM - Still misses you thought.
8:08AM - [this message has been deleted]
8:13AM - dont let him eat random shit it’ll hurt his tummy
8:13AM - foods in my room
8:13AM - Angel can we talk please?
♥️
Husk really didn't need a phone, despite all of Angel's efforts to convince him he did. Phones are modern things for people that actually like talking to others, or for those who don't know when to leave someone alone. Or both. He’d been rather fine as he was — able to see the person coming to bother him.
But then again, the Princess of Hell didn’t really care about his thoughts on the subject. Most of the time, Husk isn’t even sure she can hear him — or anyone, for what matters — over all that bubbly positivity. Sometimes she listens though — always the wrong people and the worst ideas.
At some point Angel must have realised that Husk wouldn’t have given in and that he was to find a different tactic, so he had started to play the long game. A couple of weeks ago, not long before the battle with Adam, he had started to casually drop comments along the lines of the hotel needing a group chat. They absolutely needed a group chat. Something to keep everyone updated at any time. It was a must. The Princess had unfortunately found it a very, very good idea indeed and she had run with it — never mind that Charlie Morningstar’s good ideas tend to bring chaos, destruction, and general extermination at her door. Husk can only imagine how much of her royal funds have been used to supply the staff with phones just before the hotel was torn to the ground, but given the increasing speed at which both Alastor and Nifty keep destroying them it must be quite a lot.
God he wishes he had money to throw away like that.
And so he now finds himself plagued with a device way too futuristic for his liking, that keeps chirping and buzzing in his pocket. He knows that there’s a way to make it stay silent, but Angel just won’t tell him.
(Angel is as much a phone addict as they come. Which is actually not so bad. It’s nice to quietly clean the bar with his silent presence as company — long fingers tapping and glasses clinking the only sounds in the room. He chats a lot in between film shooting, too. Hearing from him while he’s at work — knowing that he’s safe enough to spam him or the group-chat with whatever nonsense — it’s actually comforting, in some twisted way that he doesn't want to think too hard about.)
(Yeah, Husk won’t elaborate on any of that.)
There are some good sides too, he supposes.
“Anyway, what’s that thing you do?” he asks this evening, because lately he finds himself searching for whatever excuse to start a conversation.
Angel lifts his eyes off the screen to look at him. He does that a lot when he’s talking with Husk and it’s probably nothing — surely it means nothing — but Husk has noticed Angel doesn’t do that for just anyone. Somehow, he gets his full attention. “What thing?”
“The one where you put the asterisk and then a random word.”
“Oh. ‘S a correction,” he starts typing on his screen again. “Ya know, when ya mistype somethin’ and need ta correct that. Like…”
And there it is, the chirping and buzzing. A notification. It turns to three before Husk can even manage to take the phone out of his pocket. God the kid types fast.
3 unread messages
4:10PM - im corny
4:10PM - *horny
4:10PM - = i meant “im horny”
“Mmh,” Husk muses, “but you are corny.”
Angel gasps, way too theatrically to actually be offended. “No I’m not! I’m lots of fun, telling ya. An’ that’s why you want ta be my friend so bad.”
“Oh, really?”
“Well duh. Tell ya what, you’re corny!”
“Am I now?” Husks grins. Something warm tugs in his chest, a soft purr bubbling up at the back of his throat. If Angel has noticed, he doesn’t let it show.
“A corny old man, is what ya are. I’m changing your contact name right now.”
Angel curls up on his stool, phone in hand and brows frowned, making a scene of changing the name on the top of the chat screen. Husk actually laughs at that, and maybe his eyes linger on Angel just a moment too long.
There are good sides too — in phones, in Hell, in stupid hotels and messy redemption plans. Well shit, Husk thinks, but it’s only a hum in the back of his mind, something he can shove down and pretend to forget. I guess I have changed too.
♥️
7 unread messages
11:50PM - Goodnight Legs.
12:38AM - [photo]
12:38AM - He’s been crying since I put him to bed, so he’ll be sleeping with me I guess.
12:38AM - Is this going to be a permanent thing? Who knows.
12:39AM - I’ll keep you updated.
1:10AM - [photo]
1:10AM - Your fucking pig stole my pillow. 😾
2:23AM - ik you love him whiskers
8:26AM - Eh.
8:26AM - He’s not that bad.
♥️
After a fight between Overlords, the magic lingers. It buzzes — a soft vibration in the air, a smell of danger, like thunder about to strike. It creeps between fingers, crackling fire at the tip of his claws.
Husk has never been one for violence, but he finds he has missed the power.
The street is now empty — littered in blood and casualties, unfortunate sinners caught in the crossfire painfully stitching themself together. This is still Hell, he reminds himself, everything here is meant to hurt. Husk is no longer an Overlord, he will not fall for it again. Now he knows the weight of a chain tight around a soul. Power is no good for a dead man.
He’s not the Gambling Demon anymore, he’s not meant for fights — he’s a bartender, old and tired. And he is done.
He really needs a drink.
The bottle he had with him got smashed first thing upon arrival, the shards of glass now wink at him between the rubbles. Husk sighs as he starts heading back to the hotel. Then his phone buzzes, one of those annoying news notifications he can’t get rid off; a picture of Vox parading Pentagram City with Alastor bound and gagged. Husk's first thought is that it has to be a kink, his second is that perhaps he’s spending too much time with Angel.
Now that he notices it, there is a message from him that must have gone unheard in the chaos of the fight. Makes sense, they’d been interrupted rather abruptly — and Husk was going to say something, but now it’s not the right time anymore. He doesn’t really know if he has to blame Nifty or Alastor or the Vees for that and he’s very, very pissed about it.
(A train whistles in the back of his mind and now there is a lean silhouette in front of him, a figure standing tall. There are loose ropes around his body and blood pumping in his ear and his heart is beating so fast it’s going to break.)
Overall, it has been a horrible day so far.
1 unread message
11:44AM - [photo]
12:56PM - What the fuck.
12:56PM - the blobfish :)
12:58PM - I did not need to see that again.
“Where are you going?” Nifty calls, her voice small as she follows him in quick little steps.
“Back to the hotel, you should come too.”
“What about Alastor?”
Husk stops. He lifts his gaze to look at her — she seems so lost, so young and unsure, and is looking back at him like he must know how to help her.
He does not.
“I’m sure he has a plan.”
“What about us?” And her voice sounds lost, too.
That’s a good question. If Alastor is now under Vox’s contract, then for some bullshit bureaucracy they should be too. What else is gonna happen on this shitshow of an afterlife?
This is Hell and everything here is meant to hurt.
(Angel’s sly figure standing tall in front of him, so unwavering sure and selfless, engulfed in the blinding light of the train. Tracks rumbling and angelic steel and no time and fear.)
“We’ll manage,” he tells her. It could be a lie.
12 unread messages
12:58PM - ya welcome whiskers <3
12:58PM - anyway where the fuck did u go
12:58PM - did nifty try to sacrifice u to the cockroach lord or smt
1:01PM - did she MANAGE TO
1:02PM - HUSK
1:02PM - HUSKER
1:02PM - WHISKERS
1:02PM - BABE
1:02PM - DADDY
1:02PM - OLD MAN
1:02PM - OLD CAT
1:03PM - MISTER CORNY OLD MANCAT
1:03PM - What?
1:03PM - WHAT WHAT
1:03PM - YOU LEFT ME HANGING YOU DIPSHIT
1:04PM - did nifty actually sacrifice you to the cockroacj lord and now you are a birdcatcockroach old man with little cockroach hand that cant pick up a phoen >:(
1:05PM - Angel I was gone for five fucking minutes.
1:05PM - so basically u r saying u hate me ok
1:05PM - You know that’s not true.
1:06PM - im joking whiskers
1:06PM - ik u love me ;)
1:06PM - Ahah.
1:06PM - I tolerate you.
1:06PM - sure <3
1:08PM - so anyway wtf happened
1:08PM - everything alright?
1:08AM - I’m fine. Had to assist Alastor with something.
1:09AM - It’s a long story and I'm too sober for it.
1:10PM - aw shit
1:10PM - how did that go?
1:10PM - I guess you’re not watching the news.
1:11PM - uhm?? no?? wth
1:11PM - chat should i be concerned
1:11PM - ?
1:11PM - Doesn’t matter, I’m done. You down for a drink?
1:11PM - yea but maybe lunch first?
1:12PM - im starvig
1:12PM - *statving
1:12PM - *STARCING
1:12PM - FUCKINGWBWJWB
1:12PM - Ok. What do you wanna eat?
1:13PM - what do YOU want me to eat, baby? ;)
1:13PM - Why do I even bother.
Huh, Husk thinks — phone still in hand, a grin on his face, — and people crave power of all things. Everything finds a way to hurt and magic is luring somewhere in his bones, but there is something else in being a bartender. Something sweeter.
And maybe this will not be such a bad day after all.
♥️
3 unread messages
9:30AM - [photo]
9:30AM - I’ll admit he’s cute when he sleeps. Only when he sleeps.
9:31AM - Still stole my pillow.
9:40AM - his pillow now :)
9:40AM - How are you?
10 unread messages
11:38AM - Nobody is judging you for your decision Angel. We know it must be hard.
3:04PM - If you change your mind you can come back at any time, you know that, right?
3:04PM - Nobody is mad, just really worried.
3:04PM - [this message has been deleted]
3:04PM - [this message has been deleted]
3:06PM - And we all miss you.
3:07PM - [photo]
3:07PM - He misses you.
3:07PM - Look how sad he is.
3:08PM - 😿
11:48PM - hes in good hands
11:50PM - But I’m not you Angel.
11:50PM - He needs you.
11:51PM - [this message has been deleted]
♥️
Something about Hell being meant to hurt. The dim lights of the bar. Sweet taste of alcohol and smell of cigarettes, distant quiet chatter and quieter slot machines. The way Angel’s dress draws the line of his waist, the spark of glitter on his chest, the fluff of his fur. The eye candy that he is. Him being so much more than that.
The things Husk wants. The things he needs. Thoughts — sweet thoughts, rotten. He’s just the husk of a man and that’s disgusting.
The things Angel wants. Red lipstick and false eyelashes and soft music. His perfume still lingering at the counter after he left.
The things Angel needs — a friend.
(Husk will swallow down all his rotten wants and needs.)
It’s raining outside, in the way it does in Hell. The casino’s bar is so cozy — quiet sounds and shimmering glass, alcohol’s sweet fumes and Angel’s perfume, the echo of a toast still tingling in his ears. Why should he leave?
The chirp of a notification. The way it makes something inside his chest grow warm.
3 unread messages
6:06PM - soooooo
6:07PM - u liked the show?
6:07PM - :)
6:07PM - It was alright.
6:07PM - weird way of saying i stole ur breath and made u fall head over heels for me but ok
6:08PM - I said what I said.
6:08PM - is the corny old cat a difficult audience?
6:08PM - do u need a bis to change ur mind?
6:08PM - Maybe.
6:09PM - Make sure to tell me when the next performance will be.
6:10PM - 😼
6:10PM - yes daddy ;)
6:12PM - wait fr?
6:12PM - don’t laugh at me is this still part of the bit
6:14PM - I mean it. I’d like to see you perform again. Seems more genuine than what you usually do.
6:14PM - no need to tell me this script is bullshit
6:15PM - [photo]
6:15PM - like who talks like that
6:15PM - DURING SEC
6:15PM - *SEX
6:15PM - I’ll make you a drink when you get back.
6:16PM - awww thx whiskers <333
6:16PM - harder daddy pls ;P
6:16PM - ILL NEED THAT.
6:17PM - <3
The things Angel wants — maybe the ones he needs, too — without ever saying any of them. Husk really doesn’t see the point in hearts made out of signs and numbers when there are a lot of emojis Angel could choose from. He doesn’t see the point but they are hearts nonetheless, and he doesn’t know how to find love, but maybe there are better places to look than at the bottom of a bottle.
And oh, Husk realizes. Hell is meant to hurt and he has tried so hard to not think about it, to drown it down and to hide it deep and yet, like it’s the easiest thing in the world, he has fallen in love.
It looks like he’s going back to the hotel after all.
8:50PM - Hey are you still at work?
10:00PM - Angel?
(Hell is meant to hurt.)
♥️
4 unread messages
11:16AM - Christ Angel this is the third film Val has put out.
11:16AM - It’s barely been a week. And you look like absolute shit.
11:17AM - Don’t try to convince me you don’t, all that make-up may fool your dick-thinking audience but I know you better than that.
2:32PM - its ok
2:32PM - No it’s not and we both know that.
2:32PM - Can we talk? Please?
2:33PM - nothing to say
2:33PM - That’s bullshit.
2:42PM - Angel. There is no reason for you to keep doing this, just come back.
2:42PM - Valentino can’t be better than whatever you fear could happen if you were here.
2:42PM - stop it husk
2:42PM - i told you to forget about me
♥️
On evenings like this — when Cherri sits with him in an empty hall and all the noises of the hotel come from a distance — it almost seems like it’s all just a very bad dream.
Husk tries to pretend.
He cleans already shining glasses, passes the cloth over the counter again and again until there’s left only a reflection of light on polished wood. Fat Nuggets eats his peanuts, making a mess where he has just finished tidying, and Husk cleans again; he tries to convince himself that everything is back as it once was. Back to normal.
He tells himself that he’ll lift his gaze and find Angel sitting there at the counter, keeping him company like always. He knows it’s a lie.
(Just do me a favor and forget you ever knew me, Angel keeps repeating in the back of his mind, voice thick with tears, and he knows that one is a lie too.)
“You look like shit,” says Cherri, “like, more than usual.”
“Mmh.” He’s been losing sleep, Fat Nuggets keeps crying and he doesn’t know how to calm him down.
“I swear sometimes I think I should just burst into that fucking tower and get him back. Who cares if it’s technically kidnapping? He’ll thank me later.”
“Mmh.”
“Do you know any other words? Nuggies here is a better company than you.”
Husk doesn’t really feel like talking, tonight. If it were Angel here with him, they would simply coexist next to each other, sitting in a comfortable silence.
(But Angel is not here and Husk is miserable.)
He doesn’t feel like talking, and so he doesn’t even realize he’s speaking until the words begin to tangle together and the thoughts stumble over one another. It comes easily when it all already seems like a nightmare — so horrible it simply can’t be real. “Maybe I’ve pushed him too much. I know I said things he didn’t want to hear, not from me… probably not ever. And it’s not like he doesn’t know, I’m sure of it, but he thinks he has no other choice and that’s not true. We know that, I just wanted to make sure he knew that, too. I mean, we’re his friends, no? If I don’t tell him — even the bad things he doesn’t want to hear — who will?”
Cherri lifts her head from the counter, brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve tried— God, Cherri, I really tried not to say anything about it, to just make light conversations and… I don’t know… cheer him up or something. Just letting him know I was still here. Thinking about him. Ready to welcome him if he ever decides to come back.” He picks up a glass, one he has cleaned two times already. He puts it down. He wants to drink so fucking much. Drink and drink and get drunk and drink again. “But it’s just too much, I had to say something. Maybe I shouldn’t have. I definitely shouldn’t have. I said too much and now he’s mad again and… what if I’m just pushing him away? I know he needs help but he won’t ask and maybe even if he did I would still not be able to help him!”
Fat Nuggets stops eating to look at him and, oh, Husk has been shouting. It must have startled him. He scratches him behind an ear as an apology. Cherri is unusually silent and Husk has already half an answer ready for when she’ll inevitably try to say that of course he can help Angel, wasn’t Husk the one to believe in him in the first place? Hasn’t he already talked Angel out of his own head before? Is that not the reason Charlie decided to put him in charge of the hotel’s therapy sessions?
But what Cherri says is nothing of the sort.
“Angel hasn’t blocked you?” she asks instead.
“He may act like it, but I don’t really believe he wants to block m— us out of his life. We’re still his friends.”
“No. I mean… you have been texting him this whole time?” She looks confused, but just for a moment. Then realisation dawns upon her and Husk has no idea of what she’s thinking.
“Well yes. Keeping him updated about Fat Nuggets and shit like that. More an excuse to let him know he still has a place here, really. If he wants it, when he wants it…” God, why is he like this, how did it happen — just what has Angel Dust done to him? “Just… stupid, corny shit like that… you know…”
“Hell no, I don’t know!” Cherri jumps up, hands slamming on the table. There is the tingling of glasses and Fat Nuggets’ squeak of surprise, and Husk must make a sound not so different, too — but Cherri doesn’t care. “Since that motherfucker blocked me when he started all this self-deprecating bullshit! Give me your phone!”
Husk hands it to her without a second thought. In another situation, maybe he’d be embarrassed at the idea of someone else reading things meant only for Angel, but right now his mind is wandering in other directions. While Cherri angrily taps on his screen, he tries to make a sense of what she just said.
Cherri scrolls through days and weeks of chats, photos and unanswered texts. She looks up at him like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. “You’ve been talking with him?”
“Barely,” he manages. “I do almost all of the talking, he rarely replies—”
“Oh for fuck's sake why are you so old,” Cherri groans. “It doesn’t matter if he replies or not, he’s receiving your messages! He blocked both me and Charlie the evening he left, meaning he’s not been hearing from us because our texts and calls won’t go through. He is avoiding us. But this dumb motherfucker— ugh!” She hands him his phone back. “Write him something. Right now.”
Husk stares at the screen. “Like what?”
“Whatever!”
11:37PM - Goodnight Legs.
Husk waits. He puts the phone on the counter so that Cherri can see too. Since this is still Hell, the message takes some time to send. There is a soft buzz when it finally does.
Absolutely nothing happens.
Angel doesn’t reply. He doesn’t even read it, really. This much — old as he is — Husk can tell.
Cherri seems to have a different opinion.
“This bitch!” she shouts, as if something actually did happen, and Husk decides he’s done trying to understand modern fucking technology. “Whatever happens, don't let him block you. You understand?”
“How am I supposed to do that? He has already stopped replying,” Husk points out. Maybe he has already fucked things up, it’s something that always came easy for him.
“He’s still receiving your messages. Fuck he’s so sappy.” Cherri runs a hand over her face, she looks so tired — so worried. “Just… don’t stop, ok? He still cares. He still cares so much. Don’t you dare stop.”
Husk doesn’t know what to say. He takes his phone back. Stares at the screen, at the tiny profile image in the corner of the chat where Angel is smiling, sticking his tongue out.
11:58PM - I’m sorry for what I said earlier, it is not my place to judge. I hope you’ll still want to talk to me. Just know I’m here for you.
At some point Husk finds himself alone at the counter. Cherri must have left, although he doesn’t remember it. Fat Nuggets is nowhere to be seen, too. The glasses he was cleaning now smell like cheap booze and one of them has ended up on the floor, shattered into alcohol stained shards.
He throws away a bottle he doesn’t remember emptying but can’t be bothered to clean everything else — not it all, not all over again. Glasses are made to break, he tells himself, and it’s no use polishing crystals that will end up dirty anyway.
♥️
12 unread messages
10:00AM - [photo]
10:00AM - I thought he needed a hat. It looks better on him anyway.
10:00AM - [photo]
10:02AM - [photo]
6:53PM - [photo]
6:53PM - Counter privileges. And he gets extra peanuts.
6:54PM - Not too much peanuts because I know you don’t like it when he eats outside his meals.
6:54PM - Just a little threat ‘cause he’s been a good boy.
6:57PM - *treat
12:16AM - [photo]
12:16AM - He wants to say goodnight.
12:18AM - I got a new pillow.
12:18AM - That one’s his.
6 unread messages
9:54AM - [photo]
9:54AM - He’s a bartender now.
10:05AM - [photo]
10:05AM - Helping me with clients (emotional support).
10:13AM - Can I make him bite sinners when they’re being dicks?
6:07PM - [photo]
9 unread messages
11:00AM - [photo]
11:00 AM - Taking him to a therapy session. I’ll definitely need the emotional support for this one.
11:01AM - Can’t believe I had a talk with you one time and Charlie thought I could be a fucking therapist, but I guess a bartender is the closest thing you can find in Hell.
11:02AM - [this message has been deleted]
11:13AM - Actually Charlie was trying to convince me to give it a shot too. Says that regardless of redemption it might help me deal with shit and all. I don’t really see all that talking-about-emotions working out for me, but you used to say it was not that bad so, maybe? Do you think I should give it a try?
11:13AM - Thing is I don't have anything important to say.
11:14AM - Screw that, I’m done annoying you. Time to get annoyed myself.
12:20PM - [photo]
12:20PM - He fell asleep during therapy. God I wish that was me.
♥️
Fat Nuggets wakes up crying in the middle of the night. It’s not very loud — just a sniffling; little sad squeaks and a rustling of sheets.
Husk is up in seconds.
“Hey, Nuggs,” he doesn’t even need to turn on the light; Fat Nuggets emits a faint glow in the dark and he’s still exactly where Husk has put him to sleep hours ago, on his own pillow at the other side of the bed. He picks him up — a small thing trembling under his paws.
Fat Nuggets can’t seem to stay still even in his arms, he keeps sniffing and squeaking and looking around almost like… almost like he’s searching for something. Or someone.
Oh.
Husk never wanted a puppy. They are way too small, too innocent creatures that need way too much love. He’s no good at this sort of things.
But now his claws are wet with tears.
What is a puppy doing in Hell, anyway? Can a place really be so cruel, so wretched as to make its own creatures suffer? Fat Nuggets can’t have a sin to atone for, so why should he be suffering too? It hurts to see him like this, to hear his faint little sobs. Husk is tired, so so tired; his chest aches and there is nothing he can do to comfort this sad little pig.
“Angel’s not here, ‘m sorry,” he murmurs, scratching him behind his ear in the way he knows that he likes, but Fat Nuggets is still inconsolable in his arms, crying for Angel to come and get him back.
“I’m sorry, it’s just me.” It’s a bad exchange — his lovely owner for a drunken bastard — he knows it. There is nothing he could do or say to make it better. “ I know, I miss him too.”
Fat Nuggets hides his little nose against his fur. He doesn’t stop crying. He won’t stop crying for a while yet.
Husk never wanted any of this and now it hurts.
♥️
3 unread messages
10:02AM - [photo]
10:02AM - He wanted to say good morning.
12:38PM - [photo]
3:20PM - [photo]
6 unread messages
11:35AM - I swear to god if Cherri asks me again to help her take some photos for Pentious I’m not going to be reposible for my actions.
11:35AM - *responsible
11:43AM - Wait, I think she convinced Charlie to help her. I doubt she knows what she is signing herself for.
12:00PM - I guess she found out. Ahaha.
12:00PM - I’m just glad it wasn’t me.
4:50PM - [photo]
3 unread message
1:09PM - [photo]
11:57PM - Goodnight Legs.
11:59PM - <3
1 unread message
11:59PM - [this message has been deleted]
1 unread message
11:59PM - [this message has been deleted]
1 unread message
12:01PM - [this message has been deleted]
1 unread message
11:59PM - [this message has been deleted]
♥️
Sometimes, when you stare into the abyss, the abyss does not stare back. Husk is screaming into a void that drowns out every sound, he’s throwing rocks into water that remain still and unbothered. Just like that, Husk is stuck with a phone that he didn’t even want in the first place and that now is too silent for his liking.
He never wanted any of this.
(Friendship and puppies and chirping phones with groupchats. Fun and songs and quiet moments. Things that are new and sweet and hopeful. Hope. He did not want Hell or love, Angel Dust nor his damn pig.)
But Angel just had to keep insisting, hadn’t he? With flirting and talking and being friends and flirting in another, fonder way. With phones and drinks and toast to being them. And why (why why why) did Husk give in? And just what the fuck did Angel do to him? Why must he be so cruel? And why leave, and leave Fat Nuggets too, and why leave him with all these emotions to bear alone?
(Just forget you ever knew me, Angel pleads in the back of his mind. Then go and take it all away with you, Husk pleads back.)
At some point he stops sending photos. He keeps taking them though.
His camera roll has become something holy — all the selfies Angel used to take with his phone and all the photos of Fat Nuggets he will never see. Husk scrolls through them like it’s a prayer, and who would have ever guessed beads for a rosary could be found in Hell too.
Such a shame there are no chains, in this godforsaken place, strong enough to keep them together.
♥️
23 unread messages
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Angel Dust has made two mistakes. The first one was leaving the ringtone on during a night spent in Valentino's sex stained bed; the buzzing of each notification blends into the next until there is a singular constant shrill coming down like an avalanche, it colors blue the ceiling and everything else in the room.
The second mistake was thinking Husk had really — finally — grown tired of him.
(Angel Dust has made many mistakes, generally, both in his life and afterlife. But at such an unholy hour of the morning, lying next to Valentino, some mistakes appear to be more concerning than others.)
He holds his breath when Val shifts under the blankets. Maybe he’ll fall right back asleep, all it takes is for Angel to stay as still as possible and keep his heartbeat under control. Breathe. He needs to breathe. Soon the notifications will be over, Husk will give up.
“Who the fuck keeps messaging you, babe?” Val asks, still half asleep, and this is not good not good not good oh god—
“‘S nothing, Val. Just spam.” He makes sure his voice doesn’t quiver. He’s an actor, a good actor, he can sound sleepy and annoyed and definitely not panicking. “Let’s go back ta sleep, it’s too early…”
But Valentino is awake now, he sits up on the bed. Angel keeps his eyes closed, his body relaxed. He tries to sleep. He tells himself that Val can’t hear the thumping of his heart even if it’s so loud it makes his bones shiver, it’s just not possible.
He can glare daggers at him all he wants, but Valentino can’t see his fear if Angel doesn’t show it. And he won't do him the favour.
“Is that gato, isn’t it?”
Angel doesn’t answer. He keeps his breath steady, his body limp, eyes shut. He’s sleeping. He’s sleepy and annoyed and definitely not panicking. He’s a good actor.
Valentino sighs. There is a rustling of sheets, the bed frame squeaks and Angel feels the blanket slid away from his body. Maybe that’s it. Valentino is going back to sleep, he won’t press it and when he’ll wake up in a couple more hours he’ll have already forgotten.
Then something hits him hard.
“WHAT THE F—” Angel jumps, but then Valentino is on him and the next moment Angel is being pressed onto the bed with such force it hurts. There are hands around his wrist and fingers closing around his skin, sinking till the bones. There is poison in his mouth and his head is lighter, he feels nauseous and dizzy and high and so scared, red mad eyes are watching him. Valentino can definitely hear his heartbeat now.
(He can see his fear, he can hear it and sense it and enjoy it.)
“Do you think I’m stupid?”
Angel chokes on pink smoke, he coughs. He knows he has to say something, he needs to answer or Val will just get angrier. “It’s ok, I– I swear. I’m not answerin' anyway. A– and I’m not going back. Ya don’t need ta worry.”
“Worry?” Valentino sneers — a single, chilling laugh that sounds like a bark. He lets him go. “Me? He’s the one who fell in love with a whore, I’ll worry for him.”
When Valentino gets off him Angel exhales to get the toxin out of his lungs. He knows he needs to get up from where he is and get some fresh air, but it’s no use; the room is already filled with smoke — it already smells like Valentino.
Angel moves a hand to press against his ribcage, where he has been hit, there will be a bruise there soon. His eyes sting, his head is clouded, his body slow. This is not good — this is bad, bad bad bad bad. Another hand on the mattress finds the phone Valentino had thrown at him.
He will not pick it up. He will not look.
Angel will not think about Husk, about the texts he has sent. (If he did think about it, he would have so many questions. Why now after so many quiet days? Did something happen to Fat Nuggets? Or to Husk? Cherri? Charlie? Are they ok? Or is it just the demonic connection suddenly sending days worth of notifications all together? Hell’s connection always plays shitty tricks like that. Are there photos of Fat Nuggets? Is he being a good boy? Does he miss him? Does he hate him?)
(Why is Husk still not giving up on him?)
“He doesn’t need your pity.”
“Did you say something, amorcito?”
Oh shit. Oh fuck fuck fuck, it’s getting in his head. The smoke is in his lungs and in his throat, now his nose is running and his eyes are watery and he is losing control. Not a good actor — it’s not a good actor, one who can’t control himself. Angel has made too many mistakes (today and yesterday and tomorrow, mistakes and mistakes and mistakes).
So this time he simply shuts down.
“Oh, Angel, you’re getting way too involved with this shit. That’s just a stalker. But I’ve got the problem solved.” Now Valentino is caressing his face, gently stroking his hair, leaving soft kisses on his lips. This is not so bad, actually; why was he so afraid, again? When Valentino shoots his phone Angel doesn’t even flinch at the loud noise, he doesn’t even worry about the gun in his hand. Should he? Why should he? “See? That was easy. And I’ll tell Vox to get you a new phone— no wait— I’ll find someone to get you a new phone. Well anyway, now because of you I’m up and it’s sooo early. Let’s play a little!”
This room is a steel chamber. No longer blue light, just hot shades of pink. The fumes will rise to the ceiling and descend on the bed and swirl and infect until every atom of this air is turned into poison, and then Angel will suffocate.
♥️
12:47PM - Shit Angel I’m sorry.
12:49PM - I got drunk.
1:00PM - I’ve already deleted the messages, they were just drunken spam, but Cherri told me you still receive the notification even if I do. I didn’t know that, it was not my intention to bother you with this.
1:00PM - I’m so sorry.
1:11PM - Fat Nuggets misses you by the way.
1:11PM - But other than that he’s fine.
This is still Hell and it’s meant to hurt in all the worst, most ridiculous and petty ways. So if his messages take a lot more than usual to send and it almost seems like they won’t go through, maybe it’s just the awful connection. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything.
Maybe.
Or maybe Husk is a good-for-nothing fool, just a damned bastard, and he should not be so surprised if Angel has decided to block him too. It was just a matter of time, after all. Cherri had asked him to not fuck everything up and Husk did it anyway, because that’s what he does.
(Glasses are made to break.)
“The account holder on this line is unavailable or they’re avoiding you! Leave a message!”
Husk doesn’t bother. Not this time, not anymore.
He’s never been good at keeping the important things close to him. At keeping. He takes everything for granted and then he gambles it all away (chances and heartbreaks and everything that ever mattered). And then.
And then he loses.