Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As Angel scrubbed the bruises and scrapes on his wrists in the torrential spray of the shower, he remembered the first time Val hit him in front of other people.

It was an accident…sort of. Angel had made a joke to his friends – well, his comrades in six-inch stilettos – about Val. He couldn’t even remember it now, but it was funny. They laughed. At least until Val sidled up to the table and asked what was so funny.

Turns out, the joke didn’t work for every audience.

Angel scrubbed harder, tearing away the loose skin from the scrapes on the backs of his hands where they’d scratched along the bark of the tree.

Valentino had bought himself a cane – an ornate, jewel-tipped walking stick. Angel had said it made him look like a real pimp, that’s right. That was the joke. It was still funny, apparently, because Angel’s mouth twitched as he watched the water trail off his skin to the tub floor.

Val had first aimed the cane at his thigh, jabbing him sharply, and left a couple of nasty bruises in the end. But Angel had deflected, alarmed, and the jewel-tip hit him just above his eye. 

A flash of white, and the pain of the impact radiated throughout his skull. His teeth had clacked too hard, and he was reeling.

Val had continued glaring at him, dark eyes narrow slits with no hint of remorse behind them, his previous, dangerously amused expression nowhere to be seen. 

And the other girls…were silent. Shocked, sure, their hands held delicately to their lips in fear, concern. But they knew what this moment was, just as well as he did. He had challenged Valentino, and stepped too far, and Val had put him back in his place. 

It was no secret, their relationship. Val’s temper was infamous, his darkness and his charisma very well known. He was loathed almost as much as he was beloved. And everyone knew that Angel was in love with him. They also knew how tempestuous that love was – fights on the sidewalk every week, constant drama, cheating, mindgames, the works. 

So when none of them spoke up in his defense following the crack of Val’s cane across his brow, Angel supposed he shouldn’t have been disappointed. After all, it was only a matter of time until something like this happened. And what were they supposed to have done, anyway? Val would have just turned his rage on them.

As it was, Angel immediately stalked off to the bathroom to check his face, terrified that the blow would bruise. Bruises were humiliating. Bruises meant weeks of explanations, jokes, anything to diffuse the tension, to soothe the panicked looks and probing questions. And if he bruised on his face, he’d need a good fucking excuse, because ‘I walked into a doorknob’ wasn’t going to cut it.

One of the girls followed him to the bathroom, one who hadn’t seen firsthand, but heard what happened. 

“You have to remind him not to play so rough with you,” she’d said, clicking her tongue in disapproval as she watched him ice his brow. As though it had been his fault as much as Val’s.

And maybe it was. 

After all, Angel did play rough. He’d thrown a glass or two, before. Val knew how to dish it out, but Angel knew how to serve it right back. They were thunder and lighting, wind and water, fighting for dominance in an endless war. 

Later on, when his thighs bloomed with brackish purple and yellow splotches and his brow a faint shadow, Valentino had referred to it as ‘roughhousing.’ Sometimes they played too hard. Maybe they needed to take it down a notch.

And then even later, when it was just the two of them in the dark and the quiet of the bed they shared, when Angel had sulked long enough, Val had finally apologized between his shoulderblades, punctuating his sorries with kisses, and Angel finally cried. 

“Is this going to happen again?” he’d asked in a trembling whisper.

“I don’t know,” Val answered. 

Angel scrubbed the last of the conditioner from his hair, wincing as his fingers ran past the tender part of his scalp, and turned the water off shortly after. 

He felt numb, hollow as he dried his body and hair, and brushed his teeth. 

Angel was just getting to the bed part without a hope of real sleep when someone banged on his front door, and the numbness was quickly usurped by dread. Then fury.

He nearly called out for Husk to go fuck himself when he heard a very drunk, very not-Husk voice call out.

“Angel! I know you’re in there!” 

Travis, again.

Angel’s blood ran cold. 

Travis pounded on the door again, so hard all three locks rattled.

Moving quickly, Angel scooped up Fat Nuggets off of the floor where he was attempting to squeeze under the couch to hide, and spirited him away to the bedroom. He locked the door, pulled the curtain, and flipped off the lights, waiting in fear. 

BANG BANG BANG

“ANGEL!” 

Angel grabbed his clothes from the floor, pulling them back on quickly. Clutching Nuggets, he fled into the bathroom. 

He locked the door, grabbed the towel from where it was drying on the shower curtain rod, and wrapped Nuggets tightly in it, trapping his legs. Then he slid the bathroom window open as far as it would go.

BANG BANG BANG

“ ANGEL DUST! ”

Angel slipped out of the small window one leg at a time, lifting Nuggets carefully after him. Then he closed the window, and made off for the back trail, running low behind the house, wincing at every bang on the door that echoed behind him.

BANG 

BANG 

BANG

He ran even faster when he reached the trail, and didn’t slow down even once he reached the lake.

The community center was quiet. It had begun to drizzle softly outside, but still Angel dragged several chairs from the craft room and stacked them against the door to barricade it. He wasn’t about to take any chances. 

He wished he could go to Charlie’s, but he couldn’t be certain Husk wasn’t there, and he really could not deal with seeing Husk again. He’d considered Cherri, but she might still be with Pen. Everyone else had a good night except for him, and he wasn’t about to ruin it just because the consequences of his own actions had finally come back to haunt him.

Angel shoved a last chair against the door. Even if they didn’t keep out an intruder, the racket they’d make falling down would be loud enough to wake him. If he slept at all.

Exhausted, he slumped back to the craft room where Nuggets lay snug in his towel. Angel released the tight swaddle and the pig scampered off to investigate his new surroundings. Angel drew his knees up against his chest, resting his chin as he watched Nuggets trot along the wall, sniffing at the edge of the carpet.

The booze he’d consumed at the dance had worn off, leaving him shivering, stomach achy, but his skin still felt numb. 

Travis. Fucking…Travis . 

Of course the problem hadn’t just vanished because he avoided it. Of course he wouldn’t back off just because Angel set a boundary. Once a man had Angel, they thought they had a right to him. It had been true in New York, so why should it be any different here?

Angel closed his eyes and pressed his face into his knees until colors bloomed behind his eyelids. 

Men had been ruining his life since the day he was born. 

First, his family, then the shitshow that had been his first…well. Not a relationship. It would have to have been real to be a relationship, after all. Then the men scattered like splatterpaint across the two blurry years he’d been out on the streets and in the clubs until his first OD, when Molly put him in rehab the first time and gave him the bracelet that officially labeled him an addict. No opioids . He’d stared at it every day as though it might have granted him the power to be a different person in those first few months after rehab.

And then Valentino. Eight years of Valentino. Six of them in porn. Four of them as an unofficial escort for Val’s friends and business associates. 

And now Travis.

And now Husk. 

Angel sighed, long and shuddering, his nails digging into the seams of his jeans as he lost the fight with his brain. There was no keeping this door closed tonight without something stronger than his own two hands.

Husk hated him… really hated him. Had resented him for decades, apparently.

“He doesn’t like you though.” Niffty’s words floated back to him now. “Because you’re spoiled.” 

Spoiled. 

Angel pressed his face further into his knees. If he pushed hard enough, maybe he could banish the image of Husk’s twisted face and livid eyes.

“I know EVERYTHING about you, Angel!”

He was so, so wrong, but how could Angel set him straight when he was looking at him like that. When accusation after accusation flew out of his mouth and pinned themselves into Angel’s heart like darts hitting a bullseye. 

‘Or maybe he’s not wrong,’ said a little voice in his head. The one that sounded like Val, that always reappeared during his worst moments. ‘Maybe he’s the only one who sees right through you.’ 

Husk wasn’t right about his past, but he’d been right about Angel. He was a fuckup. An opportunist. He used people to get by, and he’d always been able to use sex as a tool to get what he wanted. How many times had he seduced a John for extra cash or drugs and not told Val? The male security in rehab, drug dealers, hell, even the bouncer at the club not much more than a month ago. How many times had he done the same to Val? He’d literally been entertaining the idea of seducing Husk , for fuck’s sake.

‘But that wasn’t for money or drugs,’ a different voice piped up in his head, this one sounding more like Charlie, or maybe Molly, but he shoved it away. 

He’d used Husk. How many times had Husk brought him food. He’d installed the locks for free. He’d built Fat Nuggets a house, for Chrissakes. And Husk needed every penny from those jobs to pay back his debt.

Angel had used him.

‘You didn’t ask him to do that,’ the Charlie-voice said.

‘He was just trying to get a piece of you, baby,’ the Val-voice countered. 

‘Your sugar daddy doesn’t want your parasitic ass anymore.’ 

Angel shivered, holding his knees closer. His stomach ached – an open pit, black and bottomless, gnawing at his insides. He felt unbearably cold. 

It was a familiar feeling. 

But he’d always had something to distract him before, to soothe the eternal ache at his core. Now he had nothing.

Tears rolled down Angel’s cheeks finally as the ache in his core throbbed and the voices in his mind overlapped, echoing off the walls of his skull. He dug his fingers into his hair, pulling the roots so tight they hurt. 

He wanted to stop thinking about any of it. He was exhausted, running in endless circles to try to make sense of the night. At this point he didn’t care if it made sense – he just wanted out of his head. He wanted to get high enough to forget the way Travis tasted. He wanted to get fucked so hard he stopped feeling hands on him. He wanted to get so lost in a bender that by the time he came back to himself, this horrible day would be long gone, its horrible, vivid colors faded to a dull grey, consumed by time.

Angel jumped at the feeling of Nuggets’s wet nose against the small of his back where his shirt had ridden up. He twisted around, blinking at the little pig through glassy eyes. 

Nuggets looked up at him, nose pulsing as he tried to sniff out the problem. 

The knife points in Angel’s ribs softened, and he scooped Nuggets up in his arms, settling him in his lap. Nuggets planted his front feet on Angel’s chest, attempting to climb him, and when Angel curled close to kiss him softly on the head, Nuggets licked at his cheek, lapping up the salty tears. 

“Guess it’s just you and me now, Nuggs,” Angel choked, a fresh wave of tears leaking as he said it. 

Because as alone as he felt, he wasn’t anymore.

Angel opened his eyes to sunlight.

He didn’t know when he’d fallen asleep. Nuggets was curled up in his arms, and Angel pulled the still-damp towel over them both, but ghosts chased themselves around his head so long he thought he’d never sleep. 

Until he blinked, and it was morning.

He sat up, wincing at the crick in his neck and the stiffness of his joints after a long night on a hard floor. He stretched lightly, folded the towel, and scooped up a still-sleepy Nuggets into his arms.

He dismantled his barricade, leaving the chairs strewn about the main room, and stepped out into the warm, cloudy morning, heading for home.

Angel clung to the sleepy fog that stuffed his brain like cotton. The minute it cleared he was in for another world of pain. Travis should be gone by now – well, he hoped Travis would be gone – and he could get a few more hours of sleep before deciding what to do next.

But with every step towards home he felt more anxiety than relief. He kept off the cobblestones so that his footsteps wouldn’t echo in the empty early-morning streets, stepping softly through the grass instead. 

The colorful, familiar sights of Pentagram Town that had formed safe walls around him when he finally hit his stride now felt instead like the walls of a box, trapping him. As he passed the deserted bus station, he felt the familiar tug at his heart that he’d felt so strongly in those first few weeks, begging him to go. Run. Get out. 

But no, he had his farm now, and he needed to wrap up the season. Then he’d call Molly and ask to come home. Six months was enough time for Val to forget all about him, right? If he hadn’t already. Angel could do six months – could keep his head down through summer, remain a shut-in the rest of the time, and if he could avoid Husk and Travis, he could bid this whole town sayonara unscathed. Well, less-scathed, anyway.

He was just imagining Molly’s response if he asked to bring Fat Nuggets with him to her New York apartment when his insides collectively dropped into the pit of his stomach.

He stopped walking, his breathing uneven, sharp in his ears.

There was someone waiting for him on the porch.

Angel clutched Fat Nuggets tighter to his chest, waffling over whether to turn and run, when the figure looked up, and he recognized the hangdog expression on his face. 

Panic became rage in a dizzying landslide of emotion.

Angel’s shoes crunched the gravel as he marched toward the house, Husk’s face growing clearer with every step. 

He looked like shit – hungover for certain, eyes squinting in a constant wince, his torso hunched over like he might throw up. But he stood when Angel neared, and tried to meet him halfway.

“Angel, I’m so–” 

“Go away, Husk,” Angel said sharply, shaking his head as he tried to push past. 

“I’m sorry!” Husk pressed. “I didn’t mean–” 

Angel laughed at that. “Ohhh yes you fucking did. Don’t even try to front.” 

“Can you just hear me out, please?” 

“I think I’ve heard enough of what you’ve got to say to last me a fuckin’ lifetime.”

“Angel–”

A hand seized his wrist, and Angel drew back so sharply he accidentally squeezed Fat Nuggets, who woke with a sharp squeal. 

The pig squirmed so hard that Angel barely managed to lower him to the ground before he broke free of his arms, dropping the last few inches to the dirt and scampering off to his little house. 

Angel’s heart thudded rapidly in his chest as he straightened, cradling his wrist far from Husk.

" Don’t fuckin’ touch me ,” he said dangerously, eyes narrow, finally meeting Husk’s distraught gaze.

“Okay,” said Husk so softly it broke Angel’s heart. Angel took another step away from him. His wrist was fine but he held it close as though he’d been burned. He saw Husk’s eyes flit down, concerned, searching to see if he’d hurt him.

“Are you okay?” 

Angel’s eyes flashed. He felt tears coming on again, fuck. The fog was lifting, leaving him raw, cracked and sharp.

“No I’m not o-fucking-kay, asshole . And you can drop whatever the fuck this is, right now.” He gestured at Husk’s entire body, his whole demeanor. “Quit pretending to give a shit about me when we both know you really fucking don’t.” 

“I do give a shit,” Husk said in a voice so soft, it carved Angel’s heart open just to hear. 

“Yeah, well, you got a funny way of showin’ it.” 

“I didn’t mean to say those things,” Husk sighed, and Angel rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, you’d rather say nothing at all 99% of the time, and hold all of your resentment in for fuckin’ decades until it explodes when you get shitfaced. Great coping skills. You should write a fuckin’ book.” 

Angel marched up the stairs to the front door, then remembered it was locked from the inside.

“ Fuck .” 

He let go and changed course, but Husk was already in his way.

“I’m sorry, Angel. I…” He took a deep breath. “It wasn’t your fault. I just…I got a lot of shit, and you’ve been the perfect scapegoat for a while now. But, I didn’t know you yet– ”

“Yeah, well you knowin’ me now, didn’t stop ya fuckin’ rippin’ me to shreds,” Angel countered, laughing at the futility of it all. “And here I was thinkin’ we were friends, or something stupid like that. My fuckin’ mistake.”

“We are friends,” pressed Husk, but Angel shook his head, sidestepping Husk.

“No we ain’t. It’s the same fuckin’ shit all over again, except this time I actually knew. I knew it would end up like this. And I was right.” 

The tears spilled over. Angel wiped them away furiously, avoiding Husk’s face as he stomped around the side of the house. 

“Where are you even going?” Husk called after him, but Angel didn’t respond. 

He glanced around at the corner of the porch and laughed when he saw Fat Nuggets not in his little house, but in the crops, chowing down on the tomatoes closest to the ground. Any other day he’d have shooed him away, but honestly, at this point, fuck the crops. Fuck the farm. Fuck everything. 

Angel found his Nonna’s bathroom window and tried to press the pane back up, but he had shut it when he left. 

“Fuck.” He pushed again, but his fingers slipped against the pane, and the window didn’t budge, stuck fast.

“The pig is eating your tomatoes. What are you doing?” 

Angel gave up, face contorted in fury and frustration as he rounded on Husk.

“Trying to get back into my fucking house, what’s it look like? I locked myself out.” 

Husk’s face twisted in confusion. “You locked yourself out with three deadbolts that can only be locked from the inside?” 

Angel crossed his arms, cocking a hip. “Yeah, well, Travis was tryna bust in, what the fuck was I supposed to do, wait for him?” 

Husk stared, eyebrows furrowing so deeply they crinkled his brow. 

“What do you mean he tried to break in?” 

Angel laughed despite himself, waving a hand uselessly. “I fuckin’...I tell you things right to your face, and they just bounce right off the brick wall you keep in front of it, I swear.”

He turned and headed for the living room window instead. For all of the locks on his door, he still forgot to lock his windows most of the time. 

“Angel–” 

Angel pushed at the windowpane, and it slid up several inches easily. He let out a gasp of relief, but Husk was in front of him again before he could climb inside. 

“Why was Travis trying to break into your house?” asked Husk, and Angel took a step back, flinching at his tone. Husk was glaring at him, golden eyes piercing, but it wasn’t with the same loathing from the night before. 

Just like that, Angel found a spotlight he hated. He wished he could take the words and shove them back down. Wished that he’d huddled in his Nonna’s room and just waited for Travis to leave so he could pretend that none of it had ever happened. He tugged at the long sleeves of his shirt. His wrists hadn’t bruised where Travis had grabbed him – not that he’d noticed, anyway, but still. He didn’t want Husk to see his bruises, even if they were invisible. 

Angel bit his lip, searching for a good excuse, but coming up short. 

“I uh…he…I mean, you saw, didn’t you? That was your whole fuckin’ problem? Well, I never asked for it. And he can’t take a fuckin’ hint.” Angel sighed, frustrated. “What do you care anyway? I fucked around, and then I found out. This is where you get to say ‘I told you so.’” 

Husk’s mouth opened slowly, then closed. His glare didn’t soften, though. If anything, Angel saw it sharpen. 

“You said…you said he’s been stalkin’ you?” 

“Yeah,” Angel said shortly. 

Husk ran a hand through his hair, his eyes sweeping down Angel’s outfit – still wrinkled and a little dirty from sleeping on the floor – as if noticing it for the first time. Angel tensed, poised to run, searching Husk’s face for a sign of where his anger was going.

“I…” Husk took a step back, out of Angel’s way. “I’m sorry, Angel.” 

Angel watched Husk closely, but Husk didn’t meet his eyes again. 

The anger had never left Angel, and now it bubbled with something darker. Resentment. Of course Husk would come to his senses now, when it was too late. Not when Angel had needed him more than anything.

“Y’know, you were right about one thing, Husk, in all the bullshit you were spewin’ last night,” he said, a sick smile warping the corners of his mouth where they threatened to break. “I don’t want to be here. I never wanted to be here. All I’ve wanted for weeks is to jump on the next fucking bus back to New York and bury myself in a mountain of cocaine so high it finally kills me. At least then I won’t have to listen to your stupid ass anymore.”

With that, Angel pushed himself up into the window, hauling himself into his living room. He shut the window with a snap behind him and yanked the curtains closed.

Finally alone, finally safe, he let the tears fall freely, burying his face in his hands.

It didn’t matter how far he went, how many times he reinvented himself. It always came back to this. He always fucked the wrong people, and then, without fail, they fucked him over in return.

“Why’d ya do it, Tony?”

“Let Papi make it all better. I’ll take you out of here, just say the word.”

“Fuck…” 

Angel headed to his bedroom, tearing off his shirt. He needed out of these clothes immediately. 

He stared a long time at his dresser before dragging out a shirt and a pair of jeans Molly bought him that day she put him on the bus. He didn’t want to be Farmer Angel today. He didn’t even want to be Angel Dust. Today, he was just a fuckup, and he’d dress the part to match.

He jumped sharply at a knock on his front door, his heart spasming in his chest before he realized it was probably still Husk.

“Please, just go away,” he called, more tears glossing over his eyes as he pulled his pants on. 

“Something’s wrong with your pig,” Husk responded, his voice steady, but urgent. 

Angel straightened sharply. He grabbed a pair of rolled up socks from his drawer and shoved them in his pocket, shoving his sneakers onto his bare feet and running to the door.

“What do you mean something’s wrong?” Angel called through the door as he undid every latch. But then he swung it open and saw exactly what Husk meant.

Fat Nuggets lay on his side, Husk beside him, feeling his tummy. 

“His breathing is really slow,” said Husk as Angel leapt down the steps. 

“W-What happened to him?” Angel squeaked, his eyes on Nuggets as he dropped to his knees. “What’s wrong, Nuggs?” 

“He threw up over there,” said Husk, pointing near the corner of the garden, where Nuggets had obviously been sick. As he said it, Husk pushed himself to his feet and headed over to it while Angel propped Nuggets up, trying to get a better look at him.

He was breathing audibly, shakily, blinking slowly up at Angel but barely moving. Just last night the pig had been running circles around him in the community center, but now–

“ Shit! ” 

“What?” 

Husk tore a tomato from the stalk, then a hot pepper, then a blueberry, and, to Angel’s surprise, lifted all of them to his nose. 

“It’s been fucking bleached,” grunted Husk. 

Angel’s insides seemed to fall away, leaving him empty. “W-What?” 

Husk crossed to him, holding the crops out for him to smell, but Angel didn’t even have to lean forward to catch the harsh ammonia scent coming off of them.

“You need to get Nuggs to a vet.” 

“Wh…what do you–” 

“He might have been poisoned,” said Husk, pulling out his phone.

Angel’s head snapped back to Nuggets, eyes wide. 

Poisoned. 

He could barely hear what Husk was saying on the phone. All he could see was his own, terrified face reflected in Nuggets’s little beady black eye as he looked up at him. As though he could help. As though he could do anything.

Angel clutched Nuggets close to his body and started to run.

He heard Husk shouting behind him, but he didn’t slow down. There was no time. He clutched Nuggets closer. 

‘Just hold on,’ he thought. ‘ Please, just hold on.’ 

The door to Lucifer’s barn was locked. Angel was nearly screaming by the time Husk caught up to him, panting and out of breath. 

“He’s not open, Angel. He’s never here Mondays.” 

“Where the fuck is he?” Angel shouted, rounding on Husk. “Fuck. I’ll go to Carmilla’s.” 

“She’s not in yet, and she doesn’t do this kinda thing,” said Husk.

“Well where am I supposed to go, Husk, he needs help! ” Angel broke on the last word in a sob. 

Husk held his eyes calmly, unflinching. “There’s a vet just outta town. They open early.” 

“Then what the fuck are we waiting for? Get your fuckin’ car! You’re just standing there!”  

Angel was openly crying now, sniffling, and clutching Fat Nuggets like a bleeding wound. Husk held out a hand slowly.

“I can’t take you,” he said. “But I called Vaggie. She’ll be up by the bus stop.” 

Angel stared at him, broken and wide-eyed.

“What do you mean you…” Then he realized, and what was left of his battered heart sank. “You’re fuckin’ drunk, aren’t you.” 

It wasn’t even a question. And Husk didn’t even need to answer. The grim set of his mouth was enough.

Fat Nuggets was going to be okay. 

After a forty-five minute drive the pig began perking up in the car, but another thirty minutes at the vet confirmed it. But to be safe, Fat Nuggets would need to spend another few hours at the vet for observation.

Vaggie found a coffee shop in a nearby town, and, reluctantly, Angel agreed to go. 

He stared at the trees whipping past the windows, completely numb inside. He was fucking exhausted. He had barely slept, cried his eyes out, and had his heart torn to pieces like the label off a sweaty beer bottle. 

Somehow he didn’t think coffee was going to help.

“Here,” said Vaggie, pushing a cup into his hand. 

Angel blinked. They were at the café already, at a table by the window. Vaggie ordered for him.

He sipped the drink. It was tea. 

“If you want anything else, I’ll buy,” said Vaggie, drinking from her own cup and looking out the window at the parking lot with a sigh. 

She hadn’t spoken the entire car ride, nor anything past logistical questions at the vet’s office. 

But now they sat face to face, with nothing but time. Angel stared into the little oval drink hole in the lid of his cup where steam escaped in lazy waves. 

“Thanks,” he said shortly. His voice sounded rough, almost hoarse. “You don’t have to wait with me. Could be hours. If you need to work.” 

Vaggie shrugged. “Good thing about working for yourself is you don’t have to ask for time off,” she said. “Plus I wouldn’t want to leave you stranded.” 

3pm was the estimate, but the vet’s office had Vaggie’s number in case of anything. Angel was completely reliant on her.

He drank the tea, wincing when it burned the roof of his mouth. The pain made him teary again, and he rolled his eyes. 

“Can’t fuckin’ stop cryin’,” he muttered, wiping his eyes with his palm. Vaggie immediately stood, crossed the room, and returned with a stack of napkins. “Thanks,” said Angel, again, blowing his nose with one of them.

“Understandable,” said Vaggie. “But he’s going to be alright, and you’ll be able to take him home soon.” 

Home . 

To the house he’d fled in the night because he’d felt unsafe. On the farm with the poisoned crops. In the town where he was always looking over his shoulder.

Angel felt sick just thinking about it.

“Dunno if that makes me feel better,” he said shakily, drinking more tea. Husk had filled Vaggie in on the circumstances of Nuggets’s poisoning. And then Angel had repeated it for the vet. He knew she had questions, but she hadn’t pressed him yet. 

He had a feeling she was about to.

“You don’t have to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable,” said Vaggie, as if she could read his mind. “I know that even though you overshare all the damn time, you keep a lot of things to yourself. I just wanted to let you know that you can tell me. Even if you’re a pain in the ass, you’re a good guy at heart, and I want you to feel…I don’t know, like you can talk to me.” 

Angel sniffled, not bothering to wipe away the tears that fell at that statement.

“I just…I can’t do it again,” he warbled, the higher notes of his voice vanishing into squeaking whispers. “I fucked up my whole life twice already and now…I can’t do it again. Start over. I can’t…” 

He shut his eyes tight, hiding them behind his hands. 

“The farm’s dead. Fuckin’ Travis…” He took a deep, shaky breath. “I wouldn’t fuck him again and now he’s killed the farm. Nearly killed Nuggs. And if I gotta go back there and pretend like I can just pick up like nothin’ happened I…” 

He broke off, crying softly. Vaggie handed him another napkin and he blew his nose again. People from nearby tables were starting to glance around at him, but he didn’t give a shit. Vaggie apparently didn’t either, though she did send a sharp glare over Angel’s shoulder.

“Take your time,” she said. “You don’t have to rebuild an entire life in a day.” 

“But that’s the whole fuckin’ problem,” said Angel. “I need money . I fucked Travis ‘cause I didn’t have any money, and now that the farm’s dead I’ll–” 

“We’ll help you out,” Vaggie interrupted, shortly. “I don’t think there’s a single person in town who wouldn’t, given the circumstances.” 

Angel smiled unevenly. “‘Cept Travis,” he said. 

Vaggie nodded. “Except Travis.” She muttered a little something extra in Spanish under her breath, and Angel snorted. Vaggie raised an eyebrow. “ ¿Hablas español? ”

“ Un poquito. My ex…he spoke it…” 

“Ah.” 

Angel shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Did Charlie tell you anything about that? About me?” 

Vaggie shrugged. “A little. But I got the rest off a background check.”

Angel snorted. “What are you, a fucking cop?” 

Vaggie sipped her drink. Angel stared at her, then squinted. Then it clicked, and he slapped a fist on the table, leaning back. 

“Oh my fucking god, you are a fucking cop.”  

“Ex-cop,” said Vaggie calmly as Angel lit up with so many jokes at once he had a hard time picking.

“I shoulda known with the way you were always up my ass,” he beamed.

Vaggie smiled behind her cup, shaking her head. “Aren’t you supposed to be sad?” 

“I’m a multitasker,” Angel laughed, but he picked up another napkin to blow his nose again. “So what’d my permanent record say?” 

“That you’re a pain in the ass,” said Vaggie, and Angel giggled. She blew her hair out of her face, exposing her starry glass eye for a fraction of a second. “It was thorough. But your life was also fairly public before you moved here. Everyone’s got a past, anyway.” 

Angel sighed. “Tell that to Husk.” 

Vaggie raised her eyebrows. “Husk should know .” 

“Yeah, well…” Angel took another sip of his tea. It had cooled a small amount, but the roof of his mouth flared up anyway, already burnt. 

Vaggie sipped at her drink, breathing deep. She let it out in a sigh.

“Husk’s off the wagon again, isn’t he?” It wasn’t a question.

“Dunno if I should be sayin’ anything to ya without a lawyer present,” said Angel dryly. “ACAB, and all that jazz.”

“I’ve been off the force for years, Angel,” said Vaggie pointedly. “How long?”

“Hey, if you read my background check you’d know my daddy told me not to talk to cops. The fifth amendment is in my blood.” 

Vaggie snorted. “I’d love to see you try to be quiet for more than five minutes. I think you’d explode.” 

Angel’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t respond. He looked out at the parking lot, at the shimmer of heat waves rising off the pavement now that the sun had truly risen. Summer was here, and the sunny heat filled the air with the promise of better days ahead. Angel could only hope it was true. The whole month of May he’d felt as though he teetered on the edge of something new, a beginning. But now it all just felt like the end. 

He sighed, not looking at Vaggie when he spoke. “At least a week or two, maybe more.”

Vaggie’s face twisted and she looked out the window at the lot. “ Fuck .”

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” muttered Angel. “You gonna tell Charlie?” 

“Yeah.” Vaggie sighed, pulling out her phone. “Kinda have to.” 

“Don’t tell her I told you,” said Angel sharply.

“I’m going to tell her to ask him directly,” said Vaggie. “It was weird enough that he asked me to drive you. And after today I have a feeling he might cave without a fight.” 

Angel stared out of the window again as she texted. 

“How’ve you made it this long?” he asked. “Sobriety? You’re almost at a year, right?” 

“One day at a time,” Vaggie answered, flipping her phone facedown on the table once more. “Some days are longer than others.” 

“This is the longest I’ve ever made it,” said Angel, fingers plucking at the seam of his loose Target jeans. “It’s the fuckin’ worst.”

“Yep,” Vaggie popped the ‘p’ on the end of the word. “Makes it hard to judge.”

Angel shrugged. “It ain’t fair.”

“That he can lie about it?”

“That Alastor’s got him workin’ the Saloon,” said Angel, glaring at Vaggie with a heat meant for another. “Maybe if he got outta there he could–“

“There’s always gonna be something, Angel,” Vaggie interrupted, and he fell quiet. She stared at her nails. Angel noticed they were painted a purple that matched her eye.

“I worked hard to become a cop,” she said finally. “I didn’t have much else, so I threw myself into my job. I was good at it, too. And I loved it. But over the years, I also saw a lot of things that didn’t make sense to me. By the book on paper, but in practice…” She shook her head. “The system isn’t fair, I realized. That was a tough pill to swallow. Even tougher when I saw friends abusing it. I knew things were bad and I thought I could single-handedly work to make things better, but that dream? That’s a load of crap. The system is old, rooted in old, old problems that run deeper than protocol. And eventually it crushed me.”

Vaggie paused to finish her coffee, face bitter.

“I drank to sleep at first, then to cope, then I just drank. Thought it would get better if I quit, but how could I quit on something I’d worked so hard for? That I excelled at? Just for it to remain the same, if not worse, if I wasn’t there?”

She shook her hair out of her face, pointing at her glass eye. 

“This was a DUI. Hit another car. Somehow they all escaped without a scratch on them, but I got what I had coming.” She took a deep breath, looking out into the lot packed with cars. “I was pinned, stuck in the car for hours before they could get me out. Took me a long time before I could drive again, but I don’t do small, dark spaces anymore.

“I left the force after that, recovered, thought I’d finally be able to get my drinking under control, especially with the near-miss hanging over my head and a permanent reminder. But I didn’t. I didn’t even really try to stop until Charlie…”

Vaggie brushed her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear, and if Angel didn’t know better he’d have sworn she was blushing faintly. He remembered how they’d looked at each other, Charlie and Vaggie, dancing by the water where no one else could see. He bit back his questions for now, though. Some secrets were secrets for a reason, even if he didn’t know why. And if they weren’t hurting anyone, who was he to pry.

“And with Charlie…she taught me that running doesn’t solve anything. You have to be able to look at yourself honestly, forgive yourself for where you’ve gone wrong, and try to do better. You have to face the pain, and name it. Otherwise it’ll keep coming after you.”

Angel’s tea was burning his hand through the cardboard cup. He didn’t let go.

That old familiar itch was upon him again, tugging at the edges of his frayed nerves as he listened to Vaggie talk, and now that she’d finished they were positively yanking at them. 

“Husk needs to stop running,” Vaggie concluded. “Or this will keep happening.”

Angel kept his hand on the burning cup, grounding himself. “I guess some part of me thought…if we were doin’ it together…” He broke off in a shrug. “Stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid,” said Vaggie. “Just not realistic.” 

Vaggie didn’t drive him immediately back to the vet. 

“The fuck is this?” Angel thumbed at the brick municipal building they’d pulled up in front of, squinting at Vaggie. “You bringin’ me in?” 

“For Travis,” said Vaggie, pocketing her keys. “I’m going to walk you through how to get a restraining order.” 

Angel froze. 

“It’s not a quick fix,” said Vaggie quickly. “But it’s better than nothing. And you should do it sooner rather than later. While there’s evidence.” 

“I…” Angel searched for words, ping ponging between anger and fear. “You couldn’t have fuckin’ asked me first?” 

“It’s your decision, ultimately, what you want to do,” said Vaggie, placing her hands in her lap patiently. “But I wanted to give you the option while I’m here to help. It can be scary to try alone.” She gestured at the huge, imposing building. 

Angel bit his lip, surveying the building. 

“Will he know?” 

“Eventually, yes.”

Angel groaned, putting his face in his hands. He dragged them down his face, pulling at the bags under his eyes. Molly’s ‘I told you so’ s danced around a maypole shanked through the center of his brain.

He could end it now. End the pain that had been chasing him. Sever the string that still tugged at him from thousands of miles away.

Then…maybe Molly would let him come back home.

“Fuckin’ fine,” Angel groaned, shoving the car door open. Vaggie smiled.

By the time they left the courthouse the sun was setting, and it was time to pick up Fat Nuggets. 

Angel stared at the paperwork in his hand, full of court dates and deadlines. He was glad Vaggie had been with him or he’d have spun out over the complexity.

But still, it could’ve been a lot worse. 

He wasn’t feeling half as bad filing against Travis as he would’ve filing against Val.

His fingers crinkled the edges of the paper. He was fucking exhausted. In the span of 24 hours he’d lost nearly everything he had – his pig, his farm, his…well, if not his best friend, then fucking close to it. He couldn’t give up Valentino, too. Because what if…

‘What if he still loves me?’

Angel hated himself for wanting it.

And he hated that every minute that ticked closer to his returning to Pentagram Town had him feeling like he was going to throw up.

“Can I borrow your phone?” he asked, mouth a little dry.

Vaggie handed it over.

Service was spotty, so Angel waited until they hit a rest stop to call.

The phone rang a long time before someone answered.

“Hello?” 

“Hey, Molls.” 

“Tony? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Angel frowned at Molly’s tone.  

“I’m fine, just wanted to ask ya somethin’. Why you answering like I only call ya when I’m in trouble?”

But instead of giving him shit, he heard Molly exhale a long breath on the other end of the line.

“The fuck’s going on?” he asked.

“Nothing,” said Molly. “Well…” 

There was a sound in the background, like heavy boxes moving. He heard a door close, and another sigh. Angel was pacing now, bracing himself. 

“Is it Dad?” he asked flatly. Not that he cared. If something happened to his dad it was hard to imagine feeling too upset about it, but still–

“No, Dad’s fine. I mean. He’s the same.” 

“Is it Joe?” 

“No, it’s not Joe.” 

Angel made a wild-eyed face, waving an arm. “Well then what the fuck–” 

“Why are you calling?” Molly asked. 

“I just…” Angel blinked. He had completely forgotten why he was calling. Oh wait– “I just…wanted to ask when you think I can come back home.” 

“Oh.” 

His heart sank at the sadness in her voice. He cupped the phone closer to his ear, glancing back at where Vaggie sat in the car, waiting for him.

“I know I’m supposed to be stayin’ outta trouble’n’all, but…” Who the fuck was he kidding. “I just really wanna go home. I promise I won’t say anything to him, just. Can I come home, soon, please?” 

Fuck, he was determined not to cry again, but putting a voice to what he really wanted was threatening to send him over the edge.. 

“I thought you were doing well down there,” said Molly. “You’re still fuckin’ clean aren’t you?”

And fuck, Angel didn’t want to disappoint her.

“I am doing well,” Angel grumbled. “And I am fuckin’ clean, but…c’mon, Molls, I ain’t supposed to stay down here forever.”

“Why not?” she asked.

Angel scoffed. “‘Scuse me?” 

“Look…the place is good for you, why not stay there? What do you even have goin’ on back in the city? You’ve got something really going for you in Stardew, you should see where it leads–” 

“Because it ain’t home!” Angel spluttered with another angry gesture. “It’s a fuckin’ prison sentence. I want to go back to New York!”

“I know, but–” 

“This was never supposed to be permanent, Molls, that wasn’t the deal.”

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea, Tony.” 

“What do you mean? I’ve been clean three months! I haven’t texted Val once! ” He bit back the part about exiting the sex work trade. “How long am I supposed to hide out here?” 

“I don’t know,” was Molly’s answer. 

Angel blinked, unable to register what he was hearing. “You don’t know? ” 

“Tony–” 

“Don’t Tony me, you shipped me off here and you don’t know when, hell, if I’m ever gonna be able to come back?”

“It’s for your own–”

“Are you tryin’ to get rid of me?” Angel was crying a-fuckin-gain. Jesus Christ, this day couldn’t get any worse. “Am I even comin’ to the wedding?” 

“I don’t know.” Molly was crying, too, now. 

That stung. Angel ran a hand through his hair. “Well why the fuck don’t you know, Molls? You’re the one that sent me here!”

Voices in the background. Molly muttered something, and they retreated. Angel’s eyes darted around the gravel rocks beneath his feet, trying to listen, staring at nothing. 

“What the fuck’s going on over there?” he asked, again. 

He heard Molly sniffle. “Some asshole broke into the house while we were out at dinner. They smashed fuckin’ everything. Cops are here takin’ prints and makin’ a report.” 

Angel’s insides went cold. “Jesus Christ…Are you guys alright?” he heard himself ask numbly.

“Yeah. We’re fine, but…” On the other end of the line, Molly sniffed again, composing herself. “Your phone’s been buzzing almost nonstop.” 

The cold inside of Angel bled into his arms, his legs. It solidified in his throat. 

“Tony?” 

“Y-yeah.” His voice broke. 

“Don’t come home.” 

Angel clung to Fat Nuggets as he slept in his lap the entire way back to Pentagram Town. It was dark when they arrived, and the crickets and frogs were out in full force, their chirps and croaks echoing from the river. Moths and mosquitoes lazily circled the golden street lamps above as they left Vaggie’s car and made their way through the square. 

“You hungry?” she asked, but Angel shook his head. He didn’t have the capacity for words.

“Bullshit, you haven’t eaten in hours.” Vaggie fixed him with a look, but Angel just shook his head again, glancing anxiously at the sign over the Saloon. Vaggie shook her head. “Just wait here, I’ll get you something to take home.”

With that she entered the Saloon alone.

Angel held Fat Nuggets tighter, feeling drained. Death on sticklike legs. Every sound had him looking over his shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his skin as the back door to the Saloon creaked open wide, admitting Niffty into the alleyway around the side of the building.

“Oh, it’s you!” she piped up, spotting him. “Have you always had a pig?” 

“No,” Angel managed to voice. Niffty slung the trash bags up into the bin, and the next moment she was firmly planted in his personal space, her eyes wide as she surveyed Nuggets. 

“He’s so sleepy,” she observed, petting one of Fat Nuggets’s soft ears so lightly it twitched. 

“He’s had a long day,” said Angel. They both had.

“Oh yeah, I’ll bet,” said Niffty. She looked from the pig up into Angel’s eyes with her own blinking owlishly at him. “But you don’t have to worry anymore, you know. Travis is gone, now.” 

Angel frowned at her. “What…” 

But Niffty’s attention was back on Fat Nuggets. She pet his head slowly, softly. 

“Husk told Alastor what he did to your farm, and Alastor didn’t like that. So now he’s gone.” 

“What do you mean, gone?” Angel asked.

Niffty mimed an explosion, or a poof of smoke. Angel was too fucking tired to dissect that.

“Thanks for letting me know, squirt,” he said, voice raw and limp. 

“You’re welcome!” Niffty beamed. 

She headed back inside a moment later, and Vaggie soon returned with a bag of food for him. He didn’t even try to fight her when she walked him home and followed him inside. She didn’t leave until she made sure he ate, and confirmed he didn’t need her to stay.

He didn’t. But the silence still stung when she left.

Fat Nuggets had long since passed out on the couch beside him, nestled into his thigh, and he scooped up the pig, settling him in his pet bed carefully. Angel wished the pig were awake to keep him company. He could feel the darkness creeping up at the edges of his psyche already, and knew the nightmares would come. But Fat Nuggets needed sleep. 

He’d nearly lost him.

Angel closed the door to his bedroom softly with one last soft look at Nuggets sleeping in the corner, and headed back to the couch. He flipped on ‘Livin’ off the Land,’ to stave off sleep as long as possible, even though all his mind and body wanted was to slip away into nothingness.

Today had been nothing but a chain of bad decisions, linked onto the longer chain of bad decisions that was his entire life. 

He picked at the seam of the couch cushion. He could leave once Nuggets was better, but where the fuck could he go now? And how was he supposed to care for a pig on the road? If it was just him…

He ran his hands down his face, groaning, and pulled his knees up, curling around a pillow. 

Maybe he should just go back to Val. Everything was shit, sure, but it was more shit being out on his own. He had no backup out here for the Travises of the world, and if…if Val was coming after Molly – threatening her – trying to get to him…

He wasn’t worth the risk.

‘But you’re not on your own,’ the Charlie voice piped in, a little fainter than usual. 

Charlie. Vaggie. Cherri. Even Husk, as much as Angel wanted to hate him. 

Angel pulled the pillow closer, burying his face in the soft, cotton dark of it. 

He didn’t sleep, as much as he wanted to, and didn’t want to. But he did drift, in and out of his body. Staying awake through his exhaustion was almost its own type of high, but not the kind he craved. He’d used to lie on Val’s bed for hours watching the shifting pattern of the ceiling, and time passed like liquid silk through his fingers. Now, here, time sat steadfast as wood, solid, and unmoving. He almost missed the stupid fucking cat clock just to know the seconds were passing. 

And yet, somehow, he found himself jerked back to awareness by a quiet knock at his door. One glance at the window told him it was still night. He rolled himself off of the couch, aching, and checked the peephole. 

He sighed, and undid the locks.

“Hey,” said Husk upon seeing him, but Angel didn’t answer. Instead, he shut the door and leaned against it, settling in for whatever this was about to be. 

Husk hesitated, shifting his weight. “How’s Fat Nuggets?” 

“He’s okay,” said Angel, voice flat, emotionless. He was fucking exhausted.

“Good,” said Husk with a sigh of relief. “Vaggie texted as much, but…wanted to be sure.’ 

Angel nodded aimlessly. Husk shifted again.

“I uh…cleared the garden for you,” he said, gesturing at where Angel’s farm plot sat beyond the porch. Where beautiful, lush leaves and ripe vegetables had bloomed and grown that morning now was only a patch of wet dirt. 

“Did some research,” Husk went on. “Should be about three months before you can plant there again if you keep it watered. But I went ahead and started a new plot for you around the side, closer to that cave on the property.” He gestured right of the house. “And Rosie’s said she can supply you the seeds at half price this time.” 

Angel stared in the direction he’d indicated. Just beyond the porch light he could make out a dark patch of fresh-tilled earth roughly the size of the one he’d worked for months, ready for planting.

“And uh…I know everything’s still fresh with…but I just wanted to let you know you don’t have to worry about Travis bein’ at the Saloon anymore. He’s been banned.”

Angel looked at Husk, but Husk was still gazing off into the dark. 

“So…if you need to eat or whatever, you’ll be safe,” Husk added, only glancing at him when he’d finished. 

Safe . Angel almost laughed. Ironic.

“Why’d ya do all this?” he asked, raising one hand limply, then letting it fall. 

“Figured you might be busy with the pig next few days,” Husk shrugged.

“No, I mean…” Angel sighed, crossing his arms. “I wanna like you when you do shit like this, Husk, but then it just makes it extra confusing when you lash out.” 

“I know,” said Husk. “But I don’t know how else to apologize.” 

“Maybe ya can’t,” said Angel bitterly. “My ex used to do that shit. Run hot and cold. Say something or do something to hurt me, then walk it back with presents and surprises…”

Husk met his eyes once, for just a moment, then shifted his gaze away. “Oh…”

Angel blew a lock of hair out of his eyes. “Probably woulda bought me a diamond ring if Molly hadn’t snuck me outta the hospital and stuck me on the bus.” 

Another flash of gold, but this time it stayed.

“You were in the hospital?” Husk asked. 

“Yeah.” Angel waved a hand dismissively. “Hard to say whose fault it was, but…Look, you were wrong about the shit you said last night, but you shouldn’t be gettin’ mixed up with me either way. I’ve got a lotta shit, and I can’t be lookin’ to you to solve my problems, not like you could solve them even if you wanted to. And if you think I was some asshole from a couple of Google searches and half-assed childhood memories, I got some bad news for you. I’m way worse in high definition and fabulous technicolor.” 

“But I was wrong , Angel,” Husk protested. “You didn’t deserve the shit I said – any of it. I had it all wrong and I was too busy being a jackass, I didn’t see when you needed help.” 

Angel rolled his eyes against the stabbing feeling in his chest. “It doesn’t matter, Husk, you don’t owe me shit.” 

“I do , though. You deserve better than that” 

“Stop saying that!” Angel snapped, and Husk blinked up at him in alarm. “You don’t know me, Husk, stop actin’ like you do. I’m a fuckin’ drug addict . I sold my family out for some dick. Hell, I sold my self out for coke, or money, or fame, or whatever the fuck else I wanted. I’ve been to rehab three fuckin’ times, and I fuckin’ OD’d back in March because my boyfriend beat the shit outta me and I couldn’t think of anything better to do than shoot the fuck up about it. I ain’t a good person, Husk, so you can quit the fucking act.”  

There were no tears this time. He was all dried up, limp against the doorframe. Done.

“You wanna call me a pathetic, gold digging whore, do it. Go ahead. There’s no fuckin’ point pretending anymore, anyway. I’ll be outta here soon.” 

“Back to New York?” asked Husk. His face had barely moved a muscle the entire time Angel spat venom in his face. 

“Doesn’t matter, long as it ain’t here,” Angel croaked. “I ain’t cut out for small town life, an’ it was always meant to be temporary. Aside from Nuggs I ain’t got nothin’ I can’t leave behind.”

A silence descended over them, thick and heavy as a fog. Angel felt antsy, bones itching, skin pricking. He needed to move. He needed a hit. Something to knock him out quick and send those cartoon birds into a spiral over his head while he drifted deliciously away from his body.

“I don’t want you to go.” 

He said them in a whisper, but Angel still caught every one of Husk’s words. 

“I dunno, Husk, it really seems like you fuckin’ do,” he replied, regarding him flatly.

But Husk’s face had fallen, the poker face broken, and he looked reluctant to be saying anything at all.

“I don’t,” he said, meeting Angel’s eyes. 

And Angel felt a shiver run through him at the intensity of all that gold. 

“How many drinks have you had?” he asked slowly. 

“None since you left,” said Husk. “Been busy.” 

The image of Niffty miming an explosion filled Angel’s memory. 

“Right.”

“Look…” Husk shoved his hands in his pockets. Angel was surprised he still wore the old corduroy jacket even though the nights were warmer. “I know anything I say to you here is gonna come with a big fuckin’ grain of salt, but here it is. I don’t think you’re a fuckup. I think you’re doin’ your best with the cards you’ve been dealt and a flair for the dramatic. I dunno what brought you here besides the deed to the farm, but from the sounds of it, you’re better off here than you were out there. And you’re three months clean. I don’t wanna be the reason all of that goes away.”

Angel furrowed his brow. “I fucked up with Travis, and he destroyed my farm, nearly killed Nuggets, and you’re gonna tell me I’m not a fuckup? Mr. Skipping-Stones-Always-Sink?” 

Husk shook his head. “You’re not a fuckup. You got the pig to a vet as soon as you could, and he’s going to be okay. And you don’t have to worry about Travis anymore.” 

“Yeah, Niffty said you blew him up or something.” Angel crossed his arms tighter over his chest, ignoring the look that crossed Husk’s face at that. “I can’t fish. Can’t fuckin’ mine. Can barely cook. Can’t build shit–” 

“Those are skills you gotta learn. Takes a long time. You’re not a fuckup.” 

“Half of all mankind’s seen my ass on the internet.” 

Husk shrugged. “You monetized it. Not a fuckup.” 

Angel rolled his eyes. “ Val monetized it. I got nothing. I came here with a handful of cash from Molly, and the shit I was wearing when I OD’d. I ain’t got a fuckin’ bank account. Fuckup.” 

Husk opened his mouth, but Angel kept going, listing off on his fingers.

“Molly had to take my fucking phone because she knew if I had it I’d’a already gone back to him. Fuckup. Fuckin’ Vagatha took me to get a restraining order against Travis today and I coulda got one against Val like Molls has been beggin’ me to for months, but I fuckin’ didn’t. Fuckup. And even though I know he’d probably kill me if I went back to him I still wake up every fucking day cravin’ him along with every drug he ever gave me. Don’t tell me I’m not a fuckup, Husk, it’s a losing game.” 

Husk shrugged. “Then I fucking lose. Cuz I’d bet on you every time.” 

Angel snorted, rolling his eyes. “What a fuckin’ line.”

“I mean it.”

Husk’s eyes felt like hi-beams. 

Angel turned away from the intensity of them. “Couple a fuckin’ losers, we are.”

“Nothin’ wrong with that,” said Husk, and Angel snorted again. 

He ignored the way Husk’s eyes followed him as he moved, crossing the porch to push himself up onto the banister, tired of standing. 

“So, what’s the plan, then, now you’re drinkin’ again? Got a big ole bender planned? That’s what I’d do.” He forced himself to meet Husk’s gaze head-on. “Or are you gonna start over? Mea culpa and one day at a time, and all that jazz?”

A grim look flickered across Husk’s features, and he shifted uncomfortably.

“No, uh…” He paused, chewing over his words before releasing them. “I won’t be at the meetings for a while.” 

“Oh…” Angel supposed he should’ve expected that, but it didn’t make the pang of loss hurt any less. 

Again, Husk shifted. “Charlie…well, she knows now. And I’ll be movin’ out of her house until I get myself together again.” 

Angel’s eyes narrowed. “Where are you gonna live?” 

Husk shrugged. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’ll get by,” he said. “Just…need some time without any expectations.” 

“I get that,” said Angel softly. And he did. The only person who had no expectations of him to be a better version of himself was Val. It was what made him feel so safe. He wondered whose arms were waiting to catch Husk at the bottom of his own spiral.

“I’ll miss you,” Angel added after a moment. He raised an eyebrow at the look on Husk’s face. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m still pissed at you, but…” He shrugged. “Meets won’t be the same.”

“You’ll get used to it,” said Husk. “Anyway, it’s getting late. And I just wanted to let you know all that, and…to say, again…I’m sorry. For not listening to you. And for…everything else. It won’t happen again.”

He turned and descended the porch, but before he could walk away, Angel called after him.

“How do you know it won’t happen again, Husk?” he asked.

Husk paused a few moments before responding.

“I don’t know,” he answered.

Cold began to settle back into the old familiar grooves in Angel’s stomach, freezing over. Numbing him before the crash he knew would follow. 

Of course. Of course, of course.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Baby, it was an accident.’

‘You make me so crazy sometimes.’ 

‘I’m just a bad guy. But you love me that way.’ 

Fuckup.

Angel’s nails gripped the wooden railing tightly, nails just piercing the pulp when Husk spoke again.

“But I hate this fucking feeling.”

Husk wasn’t done. He was staring at Angel, eyes bright in the dark. 

“Just because I’m sinking doesn’t mean I should pull you down with me,” he said. “You don’t deserve that.”

Angel didn’t respond, but Husk held his gaze one long, final moment before giving a little salute, turning, and heading off into the night.