Chapter 29: The Pain Will Ease
December 20th, 1995
I'm not sad anymore. Well, when I'm high, I'm not sad. I know Chad keeps saying that I should be careful, and only do it in moderation, but I can't help it. The shit makes me feel better. When I'm high, I don't have to think about what I'm doing, the fact that I'm still lying to Angel, or the fact that I'm doing something that I'm so against. Speaking of Angel, I feel like I've been taking out all my anger on him. When I don't have a fix for a while, I get kinda mad, and I end up yelling at him. It's not like I mean to do it, and I love Angel more than anything. If anything, he's been helping me get through it all, and I'm so grateful to have him with me. He doesn't know about the selling yet, although I think he's beginning to suspect something. I just hope that, if he does find out, he realizes that I'm not selling for the sake of being a dealer; I'm selling for our sake. I need to make money so we can stay together and live with each other. Besides, I've always been against drugs. But, then again, I never knew how good they could really make you feel. I'm not hooked, though. Really, I'm not. Because if I was hooked, I'd be shaking by now. I mean, my last fix was an hour ago, and I feel fine. I can go without it, but I like the way it makes me feel. Speaking of liking the way it makes me feel, I'm going to have a little more. Just a little.
Will shut his book and stumbled over to his sock drawer, taking out a little bag of white powder. He realized that this was the last bag he had in the drawer, and he was puzzled as to where the rest of it went, not remembering completely what he did with it. Setting up the needle and jamming it into his arm, his eyes rolled to the back of his head as his body immediately relaxed. The drug seeped into his veins as he lied down on the bed.
It didn't matter that, in a few hours, he'd be craving the drug badly, and he'd have no way of satisfying himself.
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"And when you call my name, it's like a little prayer," Angel sang softly into the microphone. Lately, he'd been enjoying performing at the club more and more, since Will had begun to act strangely. Angel knew it was the heroin that was making his lover act so differently, but Will still had not told Angel himself. The couple had always prided themselves in having a completely honest and open relationship, and the honesty had not been present lately.
Besides not being honest, Will had been downright mean to Angel. He seemed angry at times, and whenever Angel tried to make him feel better, he'd scream at him, and he even pushed him once.
The stress had been building up on Angel's shoulders, and he couldn't stand the fact that he was keeping something from Will. Only fear held Angel back from telling his lover that he knew his secret.
Before he knew it, the song had ended and Angel had stepped off the stage, hearing the audience's cheers as he left.
"Angel, baby!" Queenie called out to him, approached him, and hugged him. The hug felt good and loving; a warmth that he hadn't felt with Will since he started selling. "You were wonderful!"
"Thanks, honey. I really love that song. I was getting so tired of 'It's Raining Men,' and 'Mamma Mia,' all the time," Angel told her, and giggled. Being around Queenie and being able to genuinely smile and laugh was such a good feeling. Angel didn't want to go home.
"Well, it's a great new song. You were perfect," Queenie smiled and held his hand. "Anyway, I need to go and mingle. Feel free to stay for while." She kissed him lightly on the cheek as she left.
Walking back to his dressing room, his pointy stiletto heels clicking loudly on the hard floor, Angel shut the door behind him. He began to get out of the zebra-striped mini dress he was wearing, and change into something a bit more comfortable. He decided on his all-time favorites outfit: the glittery jeans with the black "X" shirt over a white long- sleeve fishnet shirt. The jeans and t-shirt were the first things he bought at Model Boy, the first day he had met Will. He removed the wig he was wearing, and immediately brushed his closely-cut black hair. Rubbing gel all over it until he was satisfied, Angel then began to remove his makeup. Most of the time, he really loved dressing in drag and feeling beautiful, but he hadn't had the energy lately. He left almost his entire drag wardrobe, as well as a couple of his "out-of-drag" outfits in his dressing room at the club. He preferred getting ready in the dressing room anyway; the lighting was much better.
After taking off the heavy layers of makeup, Angel reapplied light foundation, some eyeliner, and a coat of sheer pink lip gloss and he was ready to leave.
Usually, Will would wait for him outside the dressing room at night, sometimes holding flowers or a small gift for his lover. Lately, however, Will hadn't even been coming to the shows. Angel straightened out his clothes, checking his hair one last time, and opened the door, praying that Will would be waiting for him, knowing full well that only the dingy hallway lighting and stale air would greet him.
The emptiness he found when he opened the door brought him to tears.
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Angel had been crying so long and so hard that he didn't even hear the door close when Fred came in.
"I knew there was something wrong," the deep base voice said, startling Angel.
Sniffing and wiping his tears in such a way that his eyeliner would still be neat, Angel responded, "Gee, whatever gave you that idea?" and gave him a tired, sad smile.
"I know you and I haven't had many heart to heart chats, seeing as how Queenie's usually the girl for that, but do you want to tell me what's wrong?"
Angel sighed. Fred was right: The two of them hadn't been terribly close the past few years since they'd met. Of course, Angel considered Fred his father, but he never really came to him with his problems. That was usually Queenie's area of expertise. "I'll tell you if you can promise me something."
"Yeah, anything."
"Don't tell Queenie," Angel stated in a small, but firm voice.
Fred looked rather shocked, before he sat down on the couch next to the young boy and held him tightly as the crying began again. Attempting to comfort him, Fred rubbed his shoulders. "I promise. This must be serious."
Angel took a deep breath and composed himself once again. "It's just," he paused, "I know exactly what she'd say and the last thing I need is another dumb lecture. I'm just stuck in such a bad position, and I don't even know who to turn to or what to do."
"I'm here for you, Ang. Just take your time, I'll wait till you're ready," Fred told him in a calm, soothing voice.
Sighing again, Angel began, "It's Will. I know you, and Queenie especially, have never been too thrilled with him, although I don't know why. Anyway, I love him a lot, right? I mean, we're married. I'm spending the rest of my life with him, and all. But -," his voice broke as tears were about to spill over his eyes again. "I don't know if I can anymore."
Looking concerned and slightly angered, Fred looked Angel straight in his eyes. "What is he doing to you?" he asked firmly.
Almost afraid of what Fred's reaction would be, Angel considered lying to him, but shook the thought away. He could not back down now. "I know something I'm not supposed to know. So he's been acting really -," he paused, pondering how to phrase the problem, "Really nasty. And I know that the reason why he's doing this is because of this thing that I shouldn't know. So I keep forgiving him. And he keeps apologizing, but -."
"Ang," Fred cut him off and continued, "You're gonna have to be more specific than that. I can't help you unless I know what's really going on."
"You can't judge him then, okay? I know you don't think too highly of him anyway, but don't look down on him," Angel pleaded with him, his eyes like big amber saucers.
"I won't judge him. It's not like I hate the boy or anything."
"Okay," he sighed, slightly relieved, "Will deals heroin. And he uses it, too." His voice was so small and weak. He looked like a scared little boy as he hugged his knees to his chest. Breaking eye contact with Fred, he appeared almost ashamed of his lover's habits.
"Oh my god," Fred mumbled, almost inaudibly.
"I know! I know it's awful but I also know why he's doing it. He's not what you and Queenie think, he's such a good person, and, up until about two months ago, I know he would have given me the moon if it was possible. We had the most wonderful, open, honest relationship. We always prided ourselves in that, and now it's gone down the fucking crapper!" he yelled, crying and attempting to defend Will.
Fred just looked on, nodding.
"Before he started selling, we were so tight on money. Do you remember when we would be at the club all the time? And we'd eat every meal here?" Fred nodded again. "We couldn't afford to eat anywhere that cost money. I told Queenie about our financial situation, and she told us we were always welcome here, and if things ever got really bad, we could stay with her and you. So I casually mentioned it to Will once, just to let him know that we did have options, you know? But he flipped out. He kept saying stuff about how he doesn't want to live with people who hate him, and that we'd never be that desperate. It was so weird, I've never seen him like that. He's always so laid back and easy going, and he never flips out about anything. So he went on this wild job search, and every day he would come back unsuccessful, and it was horrible. He looked so defeated and weak. Like he was sick, or something. But he kept telling me that he would find a job, even if it took years, because he wanted us to live together forever. So when he finally got the sales job, he seemed really indifferent about it, which was so strange. He'd been searching for months, and he finally found what sounded like a really good job. I was more excited than he was. Looking back on it, though, the expression on his face when he told me what he was doing is burned in my mind. He looked like he was in pain," Angel paused and sighed, looking to Fred for support.
"I don't doubt that he loves you. I just wish that it didn't have to come down to what it did, you know?"
"Yeah, me too," he answered softly. Clearing his throat, Angel continued, "I remember the first day I found out what he was doing. That night, he had been acting crazy. I mean, he came home and he had this wild fire in his eyes. It was like nothing I'd ever seen. It's almost like Will wasn't Will, you know? We made love that night, and it was like I wasn't with him, I was with someone else. It almost felt like when I was, uh, you know, getting around, and I wasn't making love, just having sex. I woke up the next morning, and I saw a red dot on his arm. I don't even know how I put two and two together, but I ran over to his drawers and I started to open them, one by one, and I got to the bottom drawer, the sock drawer," he paused and smiled slightly, "It always seems like all the bad stuff is in the sock drawer."
Laughing along with Angel, Fred patted him on the back. "It does, doesn't it?"
As the smile on his face faded, Angel continued the story, "So I found it; a huge fucking load of it. As soon as I opened the drawer, I knew exactly what I would find, but I was praying I wouldn't see it. And when I did, I shut the drawer and opened it again. Maybe I had just imagined it, and it wouldn't be there the second time, but it was. Jesus, I didn't even know how to react to it. So I put on my coat and left."
"I can't even imagine." Fred trailed off.
"So I haven't told him yet that I know, but ever since that morning, nothing's been the same. I just -," Angel paused as his voice broke. Breathing deeply and regaining his composure, he continued, "I just don't know what to do."
"What do you mean it hasn't been the same? What's been going on?" Fred asked with concern, "What is he doing to you?"
"He never has as much as heroin as he needs, you know. I can tell when he really needs a fix. I've seen my fair share of junkies. Most of them just get jittery and desperate for anything to fix their cravings. He gets mad, though. Like really, really angry. And he kinda takes it out on me. But I don't blame him. It's my fault that he had to get the damn job in the first place, and if it weren't for me, he probably would have never even shot up in the first place."
"Whoa," Fred interrupted, lacing both his hands firmly on Angel's bony shoulders, "None of this is your fault and I never want to hear you say that again. Don't blame yourself for any of this, because it is ultimately his choice. He chose to shoot up the first time and he should not be taking any anger out on you." His voice was intense and demanding, as if he were ordering Angel to not blame himself.
"I just can't help feeling that I had some role to play in this," he sighed, "but you're right: It's not my fault. But sometimes, he'll scream at me, and he'll yell these things at me. Like he'll say that I'm stupid and I'm useless. I tried to help him wash the dishes one night, because he hands were shaking like mad, and he threw the pot across the room when I asked him if he wanted a hand. He told me I was useless and I couldn't fucking do anything worthwhile, and that me trying to help was just a waste of time. Five minutes later, he came into the bedroom where I was sitting and crying, and he held me. He was crying as well. He told me how sorry he was, and that work was stressing him out, and he didn't mean to take it out on me. He kept saying how I was too good for him, and that he loved me more than anything. All I did was listen. But every night's like that. Him screaming at me, even pushing me a couple times, and then an apology a few minutes later. And I take him back every time!" Angel was yelling now, which was very uncharacteristic. He was usually calm, sweet, and easy going. The frustrated drag queen sitting next to Fred seemed nothing like Angel at all.
"It'll be okay. I think you need to work things out with him. Like when he apologizes, tell him that he made you upset, and that if he does it again, you'll leave for the night, or something. It sounds like he's in a lot of pain, too, and as much as I don't like him and don't want to sympathize with him, you kinda have to. At the same times, though, you need to stand your ground," Fred stated firmly as he stared intently into Angel's eyes. "He is being abusive. You're lucky that he doesn't hit you. Be smart, Angel. I love you and I don't want anything bad to happen to you. You don't' deserve it."
Smiling as the tension in his expression melted away, Angel turned to Fred, "Thank you. I mean that, thanks for everything. You've always been here for me, and it means more than you know. I love you."
"I love you, too, Ang," Fred said, as both men embraced in a loving hug.
Looking at his watch, Fred broke away from Angel slowly. "Wow, it's really late. I'm surprised Queenie hasn't sent out the search party for me yet."
"Okay, I should get going, too. Thanks again."
"Anytime. Really, if you ever need to talk or anything, I'm here for you, and I always will be," Fred promised, as he exited the dressing room, leaving Angel alone.
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The apartment was dark when Angel walked in. Looking at the glowing digital clock on the counter, he blinked twice to make sure he was reading it correctly. "3:32," it flashed in neon green. He hadn't even realized how long he and Fred had been talking. Praying that he wouldn't wake Will up, he tiptoed quietly into the bedroom, welcomed by the bluish moonlight streaming in through the open window.
A shadow coming from the bathroom startled Angel as he jumped back slightly, knocking into the dresser. Will emerged, his sun-streaked hair still damp from the shower. He was stumbling a little, his hands visibly shaking and the ocean-blue eyes wide open.
"Look what the cat dragged in," he hissed at Angel.
"I-I'm sorry I'm late, but -,"
"You look like shit. Where the fuck were you?" he snapped. As he got closer, Angel saw the violent fire that illuminated his eyes.
"I stayed late at the club. I needed to talk to Fred about something and -," Angel stammered nervously, backing away from Will.
"Lame-ass excuse. Why don't you tell me what you were really doing tonight, instead?"
"I'm telling you the truth! Why would I lie to you?"
"Because you're a whore, and you're sleeping with all those sluts at the club. Who were you with tonight, Angel?" He screamed in his face, only inches away from coming in contact with him.
"William! My god, I would never - why would you even think that?" Angel questioned, astonished.
"Just fucking tell me!" refusing to believe his young lover, Will screamed even louder than before, gripping tightly onto Angel's shoulders.
"Nobody! I would never cheat on you!" Angel shrieked, as the grip on his shoulders intensified.
'Why would I believe you?" Will questioned, his voice quieting to a bit more bearable volume. "You come home late, mumbling some bullshit excuse about talking to Fred, which obviously isn't true, because the whole time I've known you, you have NEVER had a one-on-one conversation with Fred. You're full of shit, Angel. You fucking come home late every night! What else would you be doing?" the volume increased once again, as Will smacked Angel across the face, setting him off-balance as he fell to the floor.
The hurt and fear in his youthful eyes was overwhelming as he placed his hand on the red handprint Will had just made.
"You deserved that," Will snapped, as he began to lower himself to the floor as well.
"Don't touch me!" Angel yelped as he felt his skinny body being pressed against the hard wood floor.
Without saying anything, Will pulled his fist back and punched Angel right next to his eye, on his left temple.
Letting out a cry, Angel winced in pain as he pushed Will off of him with a surprising amount of force. Will was barely off Angel when Angel stood up, pulling his legs out from underneath him, and ran out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.
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The blood trickling from his temple had begun to drip down the side of his face, making a path that would be repeated for many nights to come. He ran all the way to the club. Walking in, he was greeted by Fred, sweeping the tile behind the bar. As the door shut, Fred looked up to see who could possibly be coming in at this hour. "We're closed," he said, then recognized the young boy who had entered. "Angel?"
Crying, Angel nodded as he walked towards the older man.
Noticing the blood at his temple, and his red cheeks, Fred got a puzzled and concerned expression on his face. "Oh my god did he -."
"Don't tell Queenie," Angel said, weakly, as he collapsed onto Fred, leaning all of his weight onto his chest.
"I won't, I won't," Fred reassured him, as he held his shaking body, like he would every night when Angel fled the apartment after Will got violent. It would be this way until Valentine's Day.
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A/N: Thanks for being so patient with me ( I know I said I'd be gone for a month, but it turns out that I'm able to come home on my days off (I'm working at an overnight camp) so I'm able to update my story! Yay! I probably won't be updating for another 2 weeks, because my schedule gets a lot more demanding this session, but I'll try my best to have chapter 30 up for y'all asap! Just don't hate Will TOO much right now, because I promise you he's not that bad. That's why I didn't want to post this chapter by itself. I don't want everyone holding a grudge against Will. Anyway, please R/R, and I hope you guys liked this one. I'm always open to suggestions and such, so email me if you like.
December 20th, 1995
I'm not sad anymore. Well, when I'm high, I'm not sad. I know Chad keeps saying that I should be careful, and only do it in moderation, but I can't help it. The shit makes me feel better. When I'm high, I don't have to think about what I'm doing, the fact that I'm still lying to Angel, or the fact that I'm doing something that I'm so against. Speaking of Angel, I feel like I've been taking out all my anger on him. When I don't have a fix for a while, I get kinda mad, and I end up yelling at him. It's not like I mean to do it, and I love Angel more than anything. If anything, he's been helping me get through it all, and I'm so grateful to have him with me. He doesn't know about the selling yet, although I think he's beginning to suspect something. I just hope that, if he does find out, he realizes that I'm not selling for the sake of being a dealer; I'm selling for our sake. I need to make money so we can stay together and live with each other. Besides, I've always been against drugs. But, then again, I never knew how good they could really make you feel. I'm not hooked, though. Really, I'm not. Because if I was hooked, I'd be shaking by now. I mean, my last fix was an hour ago, and I feel fine. I can go without it, but I like the way it makes me feel. Speaking of liking the way it makes me feel, I'm going to have a little more. Just a little.
Will shut his book and stumbled over to his sock drawer, taking out a little bag of white powder. He realized that this was the last bag he had in the drawer, and he was puzzled as to where the rest of it went, not remembering completely what he did with it. Setting up the needle and jamming it into his arm, his eyes rolled to the back of his head as his body immediately relaxed. The drug seeped into his veins as he lied down on the bed.
It didn't matter that, in a few hours, he'd be craving the drug badly, and he'd have no way of satisfying himself.
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"And when you call my name, it's like a little prayer," Angel sang softly into the microphone. Lately, he'd been enjoying performing at the club more and more, since Will had begun to act strangely. Angel knew it was the heroin that was making his lover act so differently, but Will still had not told Angel himself. The couple had always prided themselves in having a completely honest and open relationship, and the honesty had not been present lately.
Besides not being honest, Will had been downright mean to Angel. He seemed angry at times, and whenever Angel tried to make him feel better, he'd scream at him, and he even pushed him once.
The stress had been building up on Angel's shoulders, and he couldn't stand the fact that he was keeping something from Will. Only fear held Angel back from telling his lover that he knew his secret.
Before he knew it, the song had ended and Angel had stepped off the stage, hearing the audience's cheers as he left.
"Angel, baby!" Queenie called out to him, approached him, and hugged him. The hug felt good and loving; a warmth that he hadn't felt with Will since he started selling. "You were wonderful!"
"Thanks, honey. I really love that song. I was getting so tired of 'It's Raining Men,' and 'Mamma Mia,' all the time," Angel told her, and giggled. Being around Queenie and being able to genuinely smile and laugh was such a good feeling. Angel didn't want to go home.
"Well, it's a great new song. You were perfect," Queenie smiled and held his hand. "Anyway, I need to go and mingle. Feel free to stay for while." She kissed him lightly on the cheek as she left.
Walking back to his dressing room, his pointy stiletto heels clicking loudly on the hard floor, Angel shut the door behind him. He began to get out of the zebra-striped mini dress he was wearing, and change into something a bit more comfortable. He decided on his all-time favorites outfit: the glittery jeans with the black "X" shirt over a white long- sleeve fishnet shirt. The jeans and t-shirt were the first things he bought at Model Boy, the first day he had met Will. He removed the wig he was wearing, and immediately brushed his closely-cut black hair. Rubbing gel all over it until he was satisfied, Angel then began to remove his makeup. Most of the time, he really loved dressing in drag and feeling beautiful, but he hadn't had the energy lately. He left almost his entire drag wardrobe, as well as a couple of his "out-of-drag" outfits in his dressing room at the club. He preferred getting ready in the dressing room anyway; the lighting was much better.
After taking off the heavy layers of makeup, Angel reapplied light foundation, some eyeliner, and a coat of sheer pink lip gloss and he was ready to leave.
Usually, Will would wait for him outside the dressing room at night, sometimes holding flowers or a small gift for his lover. Lately, however, Will hadn't even been coming to the shows. Angel straightened out his clothes, checking his hair one last time, and opened the door, praying that Will would be waiting for him, knowing full well that only the dingy hallway lighting and stale air would greet him.
The emptiness he found when he opened the door brought him to tears.
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Angel had been crying so long and so hard that he didn't even hear the door close when Fred came in.
"I knew there was something wrong," the deep base voice said, startling Angel.
Sniffing and wiping his tears in such a way that his eyeliner would still be neat, Angel responded, "Gee, whatever gave you that idea?" and gave him a tired, sad smile.
"I know you and I haven't had many heart to heart chats, seeing as how Queenie's usually the girl for that, but do you want to tell me what's wrong?"
Angel sighed. Fred was right: The two of them hadn't been terribly close the past few years since they'd met. Of course, Angel considered Fred his father, but he never really came to him with his problems. That was usually Queenie's area of expertise. "I'll tell you if you can promise me something."
"Yeah, anything."
"Don't tell Queenie," Angel stated in a small, but firm voice.
Fred looked rather shocked, before he sat down on the couch next to the young boy and held him tightly as the crying began again. Attempting to comfort him, Fred rubbed his shoulders. "I promise. This must be serious."
Angel took a deep breath and composed himself once again. "It's just," he paused, "I know exactly what she'd say and the last thing I need is another dumb lecture. I'm just stuck in such a bad position, and I don't even know who to turn to or what to do."
"I'm here for you, Ang. Just take your time, I'll wait till you're ready," Fred told him in a calm, soothing voice.
Sighing again, Angel began, "It's Will. I know you, and Queenie especially, have never been too thrilled with him, although I don't know why. Anyway, I love him a lot, right? I mean, we're married. I'm spending the rest of my life with him, and all. But -," his voice broke as tears were about to spill over his eyes again. "I don't know if I can anymore."
Looking concerned and slightly angered, Fred looked Angel straight in his eyes. "What is he doing to you?" he asked firmly.
Almost afraid of what Fred's reaction would be, Angel considered lying to him, but shook the thought away. He could not back down now. "I know something I'm not supposed to know. So he's been acting really -," he paused, pondering how to phrase the problem, "Really nasty. And I know that the reason why he's doing this is because of this thing that I shouldn't know. So I keep forgiving him. And he keeps apologizing, but -."
"Ang," Fred cut him off and continued, "You're gonna have to be more specific than that. I can't help you unless I know what's really going on."
"You can't judge him then, okay? I know you don't think too highly of him anyway, but don't look down on him," Angel pleaded with him, his eyes like big amber saucers.
"I won't judge him. It's not like I hate the boy or anything."
"Okay," he sighed, slightly relieved, "Will deals heroin. And he uses it, too." His voice was so small and weak. He looked like a scared little boy as he hugged his knees to his chest. Breaking eye contact with Fred, he appeared almost ashamed of his lover's habits.
"Oh my god," Fred mumbled, almost inaudibly.
"I know! I know it's awful but I also know why he's doing it. He's not what you and Queenie think, he's such a good person, and, up until about two months ago, I know he would have given me the moon if it was possible. We had the most wonderful, open, honest relationship. We always prided ourselves in that, and now it's gone down the fucking crapper!" he yelled, crying and attempting to defend Will.
Fred just looked on, nodding.
"Before he started selling, we were so tight on money. Do you remember when we would be at the club all the time? And we'd eat every meal here?" Fred nodded again. "We couldn't afford to eat anywhere that cost money. I told Queenie about our financial situation, and she told us we were always welcome here, and if things ever got really bad, we could stay with her and you. So I casually mentioned it to Will once, just to let him know that we did have options, you know? But he flipped out. He kept saying stuff about how he doesn't want to live with people who hate him, and that we'd never be that desperate. It was so weird, I've never seen him like that. He's always so laid back and easy going, and he never flips out about anything. So he went on this wild job search, and every day he would come back unsuccessful, and it was horrible. He looked so defeated and weak. Like he was sick, or something. But he kept telling me that he would find a job, even if it took years, because he wanted us to live together forever. So when he finally got the sales job, he seemed really indifferent about it, which was so strange. He'd been searching for months, and he finally found what sounded like a really good job. I was more excited than he was. Looking back on it, though, the expression on his face when he told me what he was doing is burned in my mind. He looked like he was in pain," Angel paused and sighed, looking to Fred for support.
"I don't doubt that he loves you. I just wish that it didn't have to come down to what it did, you know?"
"Yeah, me too," he answered softly. Clearing his throat, Angel continued, "I remember the first day I found out what he was doing. That night, he had been acting crazy. I mean, he came home and he had this wild fire in his eyes. It was like nothing I'd ever seen. It's almost like Will wasn't Will, you know? We made love that night, and it was like I wasn't with him, I was with someone else. It almost felt like when I was, uh, you know, getting around, and I wasn't making love, just having sex. I woke up the next morning, and I saw a red dot on his arm. I don't even know how I put two and two together, but I ran over to his drawers and I started to open them, one by one, and I got to the bottom drawer, the sock drawer," he paused and smiled slightly, "It always seems like all the bad stuff is in the sock drawer."
Laughing along with Angel, Fred patted him on the back. "It does, doesn't it?"
As the smile on his face faded, Angel continued the story, "So I found it; a huge fucking load of it. As soon as I opened the drawer, I knew exactly what I would find, but I was praying I wouldn't see it. And when I did, I shut the drawer and opened it again. Maybe I had just imagined it, and it wouldn't be there the second time, but it was. Jesus, I didn't even know how to react to it. So I put on my coat and left."
"I can't even imagine." Fred trailed off.
"So I haven't told him yet that I know, but ever since that morning, nothing's been the same. I just -," Angel paused as his voice broke. Breathing deeply and regaining his composure, he continued, "I just don't know what to do."
"What do you mean it hasn't been the same? What's been going on?" Fred asked with concern, "What is he doing to you?"
"He never has as much as heroin as he needs, you know. I can tell when he really needs a fix. I've seen my fair share of junkies. Most of them just get jittery and desperate for anything to fix their cravings. He gets mad, though. Like really, really angry. And he kinda takes it out on me. But I don't blame him. It's my fault that he had to get the damn job in the first place, and if it weren't for me, he probably would have never even shot up in the first place."
"Whoa," Fred interrupted, lacing both his hands firmly on Angel's bony shoulders, "None of this is your fault and I never want to hear you say that again. Don't blame yourself for any of this, because it is ultimately his choice. He chose to shoot up the first time and he should not be taking any anger out on you." His voice was intense and demanding, as if he were ordering Angel to not blame himself.
"I just can't help feeling that I had some role to play in this," he sighed, "but you're right: It's not my fault. But sometimes, he'll scream at me, and he'll yell these things at me. Like he'll say that I'm stupid and I'm useless. I tried to help him wash the dishes one night, because he hands were shaking like mad, and he threw the pot across the room when I asked him if he wanted a hand. He told me I was useless and I couldn't fucking do anything worthwhile, and that me trying to help was just a waste of time. Five minutes later, he came into the bedroom where I was sitting and crying, and he held me. He was crying as well. He told me how sorry he was, and that work was stressing him out, and he didn't mean to take it out on me. He kept saying how I was too good for him, and that he loved me more than anything. All I did was listen. But every night's like that. Him screaming at me, even pushing me a couple times, and then an apology a few minutes later. And I take him back every time!" Angel was yelling now, which was very uncharacteristic. He was usually calm, sweet, and easy going. The frustrated drag queen sitting next to Fred seemed nothing like Angel at all.
"It'll be okay. I think you need to work things out with him. Like when he apologizes, tell him that he made you upset, and that if he does it again, you'll leave for the night, or something. It sounds like he's in a lot of pain, too, and as much as I don't like him and don't want to sympathize with him, you kinda have to. At the same times, though, you need to stand your ground," Fred stated firmly as he stared intently into Angel's eyes. "He is being abusive. You're lucky that he doesn't hit you. Be smart, Angel. I love you and I don't want anything bad to happen to you. You don't' deserve it."
Smiling as the tension in his expression melted away, Angel turned to Fred, "Thank you. I mean that, thanks for everything. You've always been here for me, and it means more than you know. I love you."
"I love you, too, Ang," Fred said, as both men embraced in a loving hug.
Looking at his watch, Fred broke away from Angel slowly. "Wow, it's really late. I'm surprised Queenie hasn't sent out the search party for me yet."
"Okay, I should get going, too. Thanks again."
"Anytime. Really, if you ever need to talk or anything, I'm here for you, and I always will be," Fred promised, as he exited the dressing room, leaving Angel alone.
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The apartment was dark when Angel walked in. Looking at the glowing digital clock on the counter, he blinked twice to make sure he was reading it correctly. "3:32," it flashed in neon green. He hadn't even realized how long he and Fred had been talking. Praying that he wouldn't wake Will up, he tiptoed quietly into the bedroom, welcomed by the bluish moonlight streaming in through the open window.
A shadow coming from the bathroom startled Angel as he jumped back slightly, knocking into the dresser. Will emerged, his sun-streaked hair still damp from the shower. He was stumbling a little, his hands visibly shaking and the ocean-blue eyes wide open.
"Look what the cat dragged in," he hissed at Angel.
"I-I'm sorry I'm late, but -,"
"You look like shit. Where the fuck were you?" he snapped. As he got closer, Angel saw the violent fire that illuminated his eyes.
"I stayed late at the club. I needed to talk to Fred about something and -," Angel stammered nervously, backing away from Will.
"Lame-ass excuse. Why don't you tell me what you were really doing tonight, instead?"
"I'm telling you the truth! Why would I lie to you?"
"Because you're a whore, and you're sleeping with all those sluts at the club. Who were you with tonight, Angel?" He screamed in his face, only inches away from coming in contact with him.
"William! My god, I would never - why would you even think that?" Angel questioned, astonished.
"Just fucking tell me!" refusing to believe his young lover, Will screamed even louder than before, gripping tightly onto Angel's shoulders.
"Nobody! I would never cheat on you!" Angel shrieked, as the grip on his shoulders intensified.
'Why would I believe you?" Will questioned, his voice quieting to a bit more bearable volume. "You come home late, mumbling some bullshit excuse about talking to Fred, which obviously isn't true, because the whole time I've known you, you have NEVER had a one-on-one conversation with Fred. You're full of shit, Angel. You fucking come home late every night! What else would you be doing?" the volume increased once again, as Will smacked Angel across the face, setting him off-balance as he fell to the floor.
The hurt and fear in his youthful eyes was overwhelming as he placed his hand on the red handprint Will had just made.
"You deserved that," Will snapped, as he began to lower himself to the floor as well.
"Don't touch me!" Angel yelped as he felt his skinny body being pressed against the hard wood floor.
Without saying anything, Will pulled his fist back and punched Angel right next to his eye, on his left temple.
Letting out a cry, Angel winced in pain as he pushed Will off of him with a surprising amount of force. Will was barely off Angel when Angel stood up, pulling his legs out from underneath him, and ran out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.
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The blood trickling from his temple had begun to drip down the side of his face, making a path that would be repeated for many nights to come. He ran all the way to the club. Walking in, he was greeted by Fred, sweeping the tile behind the bar. As the door shut, Fred looked up to see who could possibly be coming in at this hour. "We're closed," he said, then recognized the young boy who had entered. "Angel?"
Crying, Angel nodded as he walked towards the older man.
Noticing the blood at his temple, and his red cheeks, Fred got a puzzled and concerned expression on his face. "Oh my god did he -."
"Don't tell Queenie," Angel said, weakly, as he collapsed onto Fred, leaning all of his weight onto his chest.
"I won't, I won't," Fred reassured him, as he held his shaking body, like he would every night when Angel fled the apartment after Will got violent. It would be this way until Valentine's Day.
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A/N: Thanks for being so patient with me ( I know I said I'd be gone for a month, but it turns out that I'm able to come home on my days off (I'm working at an overnight camp) so I'm able to update my story! Yay! I probably won't be updating for another 2 weeks, because my schedule gets a lot more demanding this session, but I'll try my best to have chapter 30 up for y'all asap! Just don't hate Will TOO much right now, because I promise you he's not that bad. That's why I didn't want to post this chapter by itself. I don't want everyone holding a grudge against Will. Anyway, please R/R, and I hope you guys liked this one. I'm always open to suggestions and such, so email me if you like.