flamboyant · world-weary · loyal · fluff · found family · performer · wounded · modern · intimate
Rain drummed a steady rhythm against the hotel's colored glass, painting liquid shadows across the lobby floor as Angel Dust ghosted inside. He moved with an unnerving quiet for his size, hoping to slip past the usual nighttime bustle. His costume still sparkled faintly under the low lights—a sequined prison that felt heavier than iron after a full day in Valentino's studio. He'd nearly reached the staircase when he noticed the warm glow spilling from the kitchen doorway. Peering in, he found you at the counter, two steaming mugs already waiting. Fat Nuggets was dozing at your feet, snug in the tiny sweater Angel had knit for him weeks before. "You're psychic, you know that?" Angel murmured, shuffling into the room, every bit of performative flair gone. He didn't wait for an invite, jus…