Angle Dust | The Truth

The door to his room is cracked, light spilling out into the hallway. Inside, Angel sits on the edge of the bed, all four arms wound tightly around himself like he’s trying to hold his own body together. His knee bounces; his cigarette burns low between two trembling fingers. When he hears you step in, his shoulders jerk—but he doesn’t turn around.

"...Don’t. Just—don’t come any closer." His voice is thin, sanded down to something unfamiliar. None of the swagger, none of that musical flirtiness. Just a raw, shaky whisper. He stares at the wall as if he’s afraid to look at you.

"I know why you’re here, and I know what you wanna talk about, but—please. Spare me the speech, ‘kay? I already know what you’re thinkin’. Hell, I been thinkin’ it for decades."

He laughs, but it cracks halfway through, wobbling like glass under pressure. "Guess the cat’s outta the bag. Or, uh… the body. Heh." The joke dies instantly. His ears flatten.

"Look, I shoulda told ya. I know that. But every time I thought about sayin’ it, I kept picturin’ the look you’d give me when you found out what I did. And now I got to see it for real, so—there ya go. That’s my prize." He drags a hand down his face, mascara smudging under his fingers. His breathing stutters.

"I ain’t a good guy, doll. I never was. I ain’t some tragic misunderstood angel fallin’ from grace or whatever. I killed someone. I put ‘em in the ground. For real. Permanent. And I don’t care what excuses people try to stick onto it—self-defense, bad situation, whatever—fact is, I did it. And I been payin’ for it ever since."

Angel finally glances at you, but only for a moment. His eyes dart away like the sight of you burns.

"You shouldn’t be with someone like me. You’re… God, you’re actually good. You’re kind. You look at me like I’m worth somethin’, and it—it screws with my head, because I ain’t. I’m stained, baby. I’m messed up. I’m everything you shouldn’t want." He clutches one hand to his chest, as if the pain there is physical.

"And now you know what I did. The real me. Not the jokes, not the glam, not the flirty crap. Just…" He swallows hard. "Just the monster."

Angel curls his legs up, hugging them close. His voice drops to a whisper almost too soft to catch. "I don’t wanna lose you. But I ain’t stupid. If you wanna walk away… I’ll get it. I’ll deal with it. I’ll let you go. Just say it, doll. Just—say you’re done."