In the Arms of an Angel, a dance central fanfic

"I ain't gotta go nowhere. Wassa matter wit' ya, Glitch? You ain't yerself. Come t' think of it, you've been outta whack ever since this mornin'. I bought all of that shit 'bout ya bein' tired, but now yer caught in yer own damn trap."

*Dance Central 3. MoGlitch. Super fluffy friendship/semi romance. A random oneshot about Glitch coping with the absence of his family.*

Glitch didn't want him to leave.

If he did, he would vanish into thin air, leaving Glitch all alone. Helpless, without a prayer to his name. Mo couldn't leave.

He knew his mentor was busy. Dance Central 3 had them on their toes, time-travelling and battling against . Mo Brea was at the center of everything, targeted by the dark forces. Tan wanted the world's most radiant dancer all to himself, DCI missions were fast and furious, but-

Glitch didn't want Mo to leave.

Hi-Def was in its suite, recovering from the most hectic DCI missions, dance battles and interviews. Mo was doing his thing, keeping up with Hi-Def fans through his IPhone. He had another interview to fly off to, in just a few minutes. The Princess was ready to grace the eyes of more fans, wearing the most killer Italian suit known to man. He was busy with promises to keep, smiles to create, but-

Glitch didn't want him to leave.

They were in the suite's main room. Glitch was setting on the sofa, half-heartedly staring at the tv. Mo, beaming with enough warm radiance to shut the sun down, was in their recliner, fingers storming away at his phone's keypad. "We're gettin' this shit down," the Brea hummed.

"We're risin' t' th' top, G! After this gig I got t'night, we'll-"

Mo noticed something was off. Glitch was staring at him, shy, frightened and heartbroken, all at once. Words were scorching his lips, but in the teen's eyes, letting them slip would've been a crime punishable by death. But the Brea wasn't going to let anything slide underneath the carpet.

"Sup, Nano? You all right over there?"

Mo's attempt at prying Glitch opened failed. A pang stabbed the Brea a thousand times over; when he first brought the young one into his life, he was closed off. Fearful. Afraid of showing himself to anyone, even his mentor. His best friend. "What's goin' on in that head of yers?" Mo added, voice firm but tender. When the only answer he received was Glitch bowing his head, the Hi-Def Princess rose to his feet, but-

Glitch wanted Mo to leave.

"S okay, Momo. Ya gotta go in a bit."

That lit Mo's fuse. The B-Boy was every inch a regal beauty; whenever he sang, birds flocked to him and sang along. But whenever someone on his team watered down a problem they were having, Mo never hesitated to show how pissed he was. It all started with MacCoy; the deejay, in their earlier years, constantly told Mo everything was okay-when he was truthfully shoving cocaine up his nose.

Glitch couldn't suppress a smile. Mo was incensed. Mo only became incensed if someone he cared about wanted to hide a pretty big issue. "What's gotten into ya?" the Brea asked, his voice a little softer. He sat on their sofa and encased the teen in a gentle embrace-one that smelled of sunshine and lavender.

Glitch couldn't suppress the fire that burst into his cheeks.

"Nah uh, Momo. Yer gonna be late."

The Princess kissed the top of his partner's head. "Don't know me very well, huh?"

Silence came in the wake of those words. Glitch buried his head into the other's chest, inhaling the sweet, lush scent of lavender and chamomile. They said nothing for what felt like an eternity, then Glitch spoke, his voice as small and frail as it used to be, when he first moved into Mo's life.

"Ya really wanna stay?"

"Fo' sho, Nano," the B-Boy replied, and kissed Glitch's forehead. The sixteen year old shivered over the burst of warmth, flowing through his chilled blood.

"I'm wearin' th' motha fuckin' crown anyways. Now, wassup?"

Blushing, Glitch wiped his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by anxiety and happiness. Sniffing, he made an attempt to explain himself without bursting into sobs.

"Um...I've...I've been havin' a lotta nightmares."

Mo's eyes widened. "Bout what?"

"Bout my f-f-family," the teen replied, snuggling against his mentor. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around Mo. "They're...they w-w-were turned into Cyphers 'n-"

"How long has this been goin' on?"

Glitch smiled again. Mo was furious but loving, on the warpath but willing to comfort. "Coupla days," the teen whimpered, and instantly defended himself, knowing full well that answer wouldn't sit well with his mentor.

"I didn't want 'cha t' freak out over nothin'! I know ya gotta shit t' worry 'bout 'n stuff, like you 'n Tan 'n-Mo, c'mon, please don't be mad at me!"

The Brea looked as if he wanted to rip Glitch apart for a minute, but then, his face changed. His eyes became warm, bottomless orbs of compassion. He was looking upon a frightened cub that had been abandoned by his childhood, a young treasure that was forced to grow up much too soon. Glitch looked as frightened and heartbroken as he must've been, dancing alone on the Pier. His eyes were shut, he was trembling, tears were falling-

"I ain't mad at 'cha."

Young, tearful eyes flew open, radiant with relief. Mo made it so their foreheads met, and cupped his partner's face. "Wanna tell me more?" he asked, and Glitch shut his eyes, transported across clouds and the moon. He laid his head against the Brea's shoulder, sniffing, suddenly exhausted.

"My 'rents were turned into Cyphers, 'n they...they k-k-killed me, over 'n over again."

"Don't 'cha think about shit like that," the Princess said instantly, his voice serene, soothing, like water dancing across moonstrewn pebbles. He began to rock Glitch back and forth, still rubbing his back. The teen hiccuped, feeling his eyes swell with more tears.

"I ain't lettin' nobody hurt ya. Ya here me? Ain't nobody hurtin' ya. I'm wit' ya."

Mo erased the cold that plagued every night. Erased the frost that swallowed Glitch's bones, while he sought refuge from murderous Cyphers. Mo erased the pain that erupted from his wounds, the wounds his parents inflicted onto him. He felt them tear into his flesh without mercy.

But Mo took all of that away.

"Momo..."

"What?"

Glitch's tears soaked Mo's chest, but the Princess didn't care. "Ya don't mind me bein' like this? Without a real name, or a family? I ain't got nothin' t' me!"

"Yer wrong. Y' got a family. Ya got me. Ya got a motha fuckin' name too. I gave it to ya."

The Brea was so firm, so warm and alive with ethereal gentleness. Glitch peered into his caramel eyes, every inch of his body swept underneath warmth so great, he could've flown to the moon on newborn wings. He instead burst into tears, head buried into his protector's chest, heart overflowing. He soon began to weep, almost convulsive from pain, from being abandoned. He wept over dying in his own dreams. He wept until he couldn't weep any more, far beyond exhausted, suffering from a raw throat and burning eyes. He fell asleep in the Brea's arms, much smaller than usual. Much more fragile.

Glitch didn't see his parents that night. Instead, he saw only Mo, who loved him without restraint. And in the place of snow sang sunshine, cleansing and bright.

In the days that followed, Glitch found it excruciatingly difficult to be around Mo without blushing.