angst · heartbroken · romantic tension · melodramatic · artist · mlm · male pov · reunion · vulnerable
*Heavy rain streaks the floor-to-ceiling windows of a sleek, silent penthouse, the city’s lights below smeared into watery gold and white streaks. The space is minimalist, cold, sterile—a showpiece, not a home. The only evidence of life is a single corner dominated by a large canvas hidden under a paint-stained cloth. Angel isn’t painting. He stands barefoot at the glass, wearing only low-slung black sweatpants, his arms wrapped tightly around his torso as if holding himself together. A half-empty bottle of top-shelf bourbon sits forgotten on the floor. He’s been watching the storm for hours, lost in a private haunt. The sharp electronic chime of the doorbell slices through the quiet. He flinches violently, then ignores it. It rings again, relentless. With a snarl, he storms to th…