Chapter 30: I Can't Change You
Angel winced slightly as the alcohol came in contact with his broken skin. This time, it was his left eye instead of the right one. His right eye had almost healed.
"Listen, Angel," Fred began as he continued to clean the drag queen's wound.
"It's feeling better already," Angel said, cutting him off as he snatched the alcohol-soaked cotton ball out of Fred's hand.
"You can't keep doing this. You come here practically every night with new cuts and bruises. How much longer are you gonna put up with this?"
Angel looked away from him, holding the cotton to his skin. "I don't know," he whispered. "I love him. No matter how much stupid shit he does, I still love him and that's the way it is. He apologizes every time, and I can tell he really means it."
"What do you mean, 'he means it'? Let me tell you, if he does, he's got a really funny way of showing it. You need to stop this. How much longer is it gonna be before he does something really serious, instead of just a couple cuts and bruises, huh? You can't just keep running here and depending on me to cover up the wounds. There's a serious problem going on, Ang, and something needs to be done about it."
"I know it's bad. I'm not stupid, Fred. And I'm trying to do something about it. Wait -," Angel paused, his eyes widening slightly, "You didn't tell Queenie, did you?"
Fred looked away from him in shame. "I had to. She's been worried about you too, and I couldn't lie to her forever. It's for your own good, anyway."
"I trusted you," he said softly, his amber eyes telling a story of betrayal.
"I know, and I respect the fact that you did, but this is not the kind of thing I can keep to myself. You're getting hurt, Ang, and you're in trouble. Neither of us want that, and telling Queenie was in your best interest!"
"Whatever, I'd better go," he said quickly, wrapping the white faux- fur jacket around his battered body, "It's Valentine's day anyway, and I bet Will has something special planned for us."
"Angel, wait, I -,"
"I'll call you if I need anything," he snapped as he shut the door in an angry rage behind him.
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Counting up his money after a hard day of selling, Will stuffed the bills into his pocket and removed a needle, already set for use. Jabbing it into his veins, his tense, aching body immediately relaxed as the drug began to seep into his blood stream. Lately, he'd been using more and more heroin, meaning that he was buying more and more from Chad at the end of the day. This also made it so that he was going home with less and less money to support himself and Angel. He'd been stashing a lot of extra powder in his drawers at home, for when he was dying for a fix.
"William, I think we need to have a chat," Chad began, as he counted the money Will had given him, giving a portion of it, Will's profit, back to him.
Still buzzing from the fix, but craving more drugs at the same time, Will looked at Chad and agreed. "Sure, what about?"
"I have to tell you, William, I'm a bit concerned. You seem to be shooting up an awful lot. I know you like it and all. I mean, all of us do once in a while, but -,"
"I'm fine," Will insisted, interrupting him.
"Okay, calm down," he said, giving Will a pathetic look of sympathy. "All I'm saying is that you've been going home with less and less money, because you've been giving more of it to me to buy yourself more materials to have at home. I warned you that if you took up the habit, you'd end up losing more money than you would if you were unemployed. I know how much you needed this job, and how desperate you were when you came to me. I'm just looking out for your own well-being, buddy."
"Chad, I'm a big boy," Will stated, in all seriousness, "You don't' need to look out for me. I'm fine."
"It's just that I've been in this buisness for a long time, and I've seen a lot of people turn into mindless, homeless junkies in a matter of months. I may be your boss, but I don't want you to lose yourself in this world we help create."
"I'll be fine!" he reassured Chad.
"If you say so. But your income is getting lower and lower. Soon, you're gonna start owing me money, if you're not careful. Just watch yourself."
"I will, I will. I'll see you tomorrow," Will said, walking out of the dark and musty apartment.
"Take care, and happy Valentine's day," Chad answered.
"You too," Will mumbled, ready to go home and have another fix.
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The winter air was making Angel's eyes sting and tear. He wasn't crying, really. "It's the weather," he kept trying to convince himself, to no avail. The conversation he'd had with Fred earlier in the day had made him really think about his situation.
He couldn't keep letting Will do this to himself, or to him. He needed to stop the cycle now, before something truly serious happened. After wandering around the East Village for the majority of the afternoon, Angel had finally come up with a plan.
It was obvious that he couldn't change Will without first letting him know that he knew about the drugs. He had to confront Will, and tonight would be the night.
Walking into the clean apartment, Angel looked around a bit, then called out, "Will? Baby, are you here?"
No answer.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he waltzed into the bedroom to lay out his clothes and get to work. The actual process of letting Will know that he was on to his secret would only take a matter of minutes, but planning what he would say afterwards would take considerably longer.
He shuffled through his wardrobe, trying to find the perfect outfit. Tonight was going to be a very important night, perhaps the most pivotal night of his and Will's relationship. He needed to find just the right clothes. After fumbling through the giant wardrobe, Angel settled on an outfit that was a newer addition to his wardrobe: a black shirt, with a pink zigzag and pink fishnet sleeves, and the black jeans with the rhinestones down the side. Laying the clothes neatly on the bed so as not to wrinkle them, Angel walked over to Will's dresser, looking at it for a second.
He truly felt guilty invading his lover's privacy, the way that he was. He and Will had always believed that trust was important, and they had both trusted each other to respect one another's privacy. Angel knew, however, that this was a different circumstance. Pushing away the guilt that was eating at his heart, he opened the bottom sock drawer and was greeted by the evil powder. Taking out handfuls of small, plastic bags, each filled with the white substance, he placed them into the garbage bag that was sitting next to him. After the sock drawer was emptied, he opened every other drawer, shuffling through Will's clothing, finding bag after bag of heroin, each one sending a new slice of hurt through his tattered heart. When all the drawers were finally empty, Angel tied the garbage shut, dragged it down the hallway and threw it out in the garbage can sitting along the street. Some homeless junkie would hit the jackpot tonight.
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Will's eyes were bugging out of his head by the time he got to the apartment. His last fix had only been an hour ago, and already he was beginning to shake and crave the relaxation and happiness that the heroin brought him. He could almost see the bags lined up beneath his clothes in his dresser, each one holding the key to his happiness. He hadn't even remembered it was Valentine's day today, and when he walked in the door, he was surprised to be greeted by Angel.
Barely even acknowledging Angel's presence, Will brushed past him and rushed over to the dresser, ripping open the sock drawer to fulfill his needs. He was greeted only by the neat rows of white socks, no white powder.
Frantically, he tore every drawer out of the dresser, madly searching for anything to satisfy the craving. His eyes blazing, he dashed into the kitchen where Angel was standing, calmly drinking a glass of water.
"Where is it?" Will asked him, his voice a low, angry growl.
"I threw it out. All of it," Angel answered softly, his eyes reflecting determination in his soul.
"What do you mean you -," Will began, his hands clenching into fists.
"What, you didn't think I knew? Baby, I've known since the first time you did it, but I didn't know how to tell you. I want you to stop. It's destroying our relationship. I love you, and I want the old you back," Angel insisted, his voice still serene.
Almost as if Angel hadn't said anything at all, Will approached him, gripping his arm violently. "What the fuck did you do with it?"
"I - I told you," Angel stammered, the calmness in his voice quickly replaced by the familiar submissive fear, "I threw it out. I want you to stop, and this is the only way."
"You little bitch," Will screamed.
Angel was speechless, gaping silently at his crazed lover. Before he even knew what happened he felt the stinging slap on his face, and the violent collision of his spine against the wall. He gasped quietly as the wind was knocked out of him for a second. Will picked him up and threw him to the ground, his back smashing against the hard floor.
"You stupid bitch! Why would you do that?" he shrieked in Angel's face, "Why?"
"I - I'm s - sorry," Angel stumbled over his words, trying to explain his motives to Will.
He couldn't even continue his reasoning as Will sharply drove an elbow into his ribs. Yelping in pain, Angel tried to defend himself, holding his skinny arms in front of his face to block the blows. It was useless. A series of harsh, painful punches were hurled at him, each one more excruciating than the next.
Barely conscious, Angel lay, virtually motionless, on the floor, moving only when his body spasmed in pain as Will continued to beat him. He could feel his eyes beginning to swell and bruise as Will cursed with each shattering blow to Angel's fragile body.
Eventually, the beatings stopped. Angel lay in a bruised, bloody heap on the floor. Will looked at him as the fire in his eyes died down. "Oh my god," he whispered, stepping out of his crazy, drug-deprived state of mind for the first time that night. Getting up quickly, he looked one last time at Angel, wondering briefly if he had done any permanent damage. Scared, he fled the apartment and slammed the door behind him, not knowing where he was going or how he would get there.
Once Will had left, Angel groaned quietly, and attempted to roll over. Immediately regretting it, he moved his hand slightly and felt the cordless phone next to him. How he was able to dial the number of the club in such a delirious state he'll never know, but the when Fred's soothing, deep voice answered on the other line, Angel felt a rush of relief, along with a new wave of pain.
"Fred," he spoke, barely able to choke out a sound louder than a whisper.
"Angel?" Fred asked, concerned.
"You need to come here."
"Why, what happened? Angel, what happened to you?" Fred prodded, as Angel's eyelids began to feel heavy, the pain ripping through his entire body.
"Just get here," he whispered as consciousness left him.
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The bleeping sound of the monitor next to him woke him up. Groggy, and still in intense pain, Angel glanced around the room, seeing the stark, sterile-white walls of his room, and the dark sky outside the window. Moving his arm slightly, he looked at the black and blue splotches that ran all the way up it. The memory of the night's events began to rush back. Shutting his eyes, as if he would forget if he couldn't see, Angel attempted to push the memories out of his head. He could still feel the contact of Will's rock-hard fists on his fragile body. The tears rushed down his cheeks as Fred entered the room.
"Thank god you're finally awake," Fred breathed as he walked in and sat in the chair next to Angel's bed.
"How long was I asleep for?" he asked, his voice still hoarse and weak, similar to the condition his body was in.
"Awhile. It's about 2 AM, and I think you got here around 11."
"Oh," Angel replied, not knowing what to say.
"Can we talk about this?" Fred asked, as he made himself comfortable.
Sighing, and looking a bit annoyed, Angel answered him, "I - I don't really want to talk about it, I mean -."
"You can't keep avoiding the subject forever, Ang. I'm not going anywhere any time soon, and neither are you, so I'm just gonna sit here and wait until you're ready to spill."
Shifting a bit in his bed, his face immediately twisting into a look of pain from the movement, Angel looked at Fred, not wanting to share the horrifying events of the past couple of hours. "It's just. god, it's been such a long night. It's my fault."
"Stop it," Fred cut in, harshly, "I never wanna hear you blame yourself for what he's doing. Nothing like this is ever your fault, you know that."
"No, but, really. I did something stupid. Remember what we talked about this morning, how we talked about how I needed to do something about the problem? I did something. I got this brilliant idea that I should throw out his stash."
Fred looked at Angel, slightly confused.
"I know it was stupid. And, looking back on it, I was practically asking for him to get mad at me. I shouldn't be blaming myself for what he does, but this time I think it's justified. So he came home, and I was all confident, and ready to tell him that he had to stop what he was doing, and that I wanted to old Will back. So he came in, and he just ran right past me and ripped the drawers open, and there was nothing there. He came back out, and I'd never seen him so mad. I told him, calmly, where it was, and instead of him giving in and telling me I was right, he called me a bitch and that's when it started, and I just -," his voice broke as tears began to spill from his eyes, "I wanted to badly for everything to work, and it won't!"
Fred gently placed his hand on top of Angel's looking at him, sympathetically. "I know you love him, but you can't change him. He has to change himself, and until he does it is not safe for you to be there. You need to do what's best, and you need to get yourself out. Queenie and I already made space for you."
"I hate him. I love him, but I hate him, does that make any sense?" Angel asked, wiping his tears away. "Look at this! Look at where I am and look at what I let myself get into! Goddamnit! That stupid son-of-a-bitch! I don't want anything to do with him at all!" The rage was beginning to take over his thoughts, overpowering any love and sympathy that he felt for Will.
"I understand completely. You're really angry right now, but I'm glad that you've realized that you need to get out of this."
"I do realize it. I'm not even using his name anymore. I'm Angel Schunard again, not Angel Dumott," he insisted. Suddenly, his eyes softened and he looked over at Fred, "Thank you so much for being there for me. You're the closest thing to a real father I've ever had, and I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here. I love you, I really do."
A warm smile appeared on his face, as he looked at Angel, bruised and battered, and held on a bit tighter to his hand. "I love you too. I know Queenie and I have told you a million times before, but you're our son, whether the DNA says so or not." He sighed, "Well, I'm gonna let you get some rest. The nurses keep saying that they need to "'look at you,' again anyway, so I'll get going. Rest up, Ang, and let me know if you need anything at all."
"I will, I will. Thanks again," Angel replied, settling back into bed, watching Fred leave as the doctors came in.
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Almost as quickly as the friendly nurse had entered, she left Angel's room, shutting the door quietly.
Rushing up to her, Queenie looked anxious as she asked, "Is he gonna be okay?"
Smiling kindly, the nurse placed her hand on Queenie's shoulder, "He's gonna be fine. He's got a small fracture in his left arm, but that should heal quickly and easily. He can go home in a few days. It's just a lot of bruising, internal and external. He'll be sore for a week or two, but it's nothing serious. He's very fortunate, you know," she continued as her warm smile faded, suggesting seriousness in what she was saying, "This is the kind of thing that could have gotten very, very serious. I've seen people in a lot worse condition."
"Thank you," Queenie replied quietly, as she wiped her tears away. Turning to Fred, she held her arms open, waiting for him to embrace her. Crying quietly on Fred's shoulder, Queenie held him tightly as he attempted to console her.
"Just be thankful that he's okay, and he'll get through it," he whispered softly to her.
"I know, I am, it's just that. God, that stupid bastard!" she hissed between her sobs, "If I see him, I don't even know what I'm gonna -."
As if on cue, the elevator door opened, and Will stepped out.
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A/N: Yeah cliffhangers!!! Sorry it's been so long since I've updated. I was originally gonna write more of this chapter, but it ended up being almost 10 pages long, which was ridiculous, so now it'll be 2 different chapters. Please R/R and thanks for being patient with me. To my loyal readers, I love you guys!
Angel winced slightly as the alcohol came in contact with his broken skin. This time, it was his left eye instead of the right one. His right eye had almost healed.
"Listen, Angel," Fred began as he continued to clean the drag queen's wound.
"It's feeling better already," Angel said, cutting him off as he snatched the alcohol-soaked cotton ball out of Fred's hand.
"You can't keep doing this. You come here practically every night with new cuts and bruises. How much longer are you gonna put up with this?"
Angel looked away from him, holding the cotton to his skin. "I don't know," he whispered. "I love him. No matter how much stupid shit he does, I still love him and that's the way it is. He apologizes every time, and I can tell he really means it."
"What do you mean, 'he means it'? Let me tell you, if he does, he's got a really funny way of showing it. You need to stop this. How much longer is it gonna be before he does something really serious, instead of just a couple cuts and bruises, huh? You can't just keep running here and depending on me to cover up the wounds. There's a serious problem going on, Ang, and something needs to be done about it."
"I know it's bad. I'm not stupid, Fred. And I'm trying to do something about it. Wait -," Angel paused, his eyes widening slightly, "You didn't tell Queenie, did you?"
Fred looked away from him in shame. "I had to. She's been worried about you too, and I couldn't lie to her forever. It's for your own good, anyway."
"I trusted you," he said softly, his amber eyes telling a story of betrayal.
"I know, and I respect the fact that you did, but this is not the kind of thing I can keep to myself. You're getting hurt, Ang, and you're in trouble. Neither of us want that, and telling Queenie was in your best interest!"
"Whatever, I'd better go," he said quickly, wrapping the white faux- fur jacket around his battered body, "It's Valentine's day anyway, and I bet Will has something special planned for us."
"Angel, wait, I -,"
"I'll call you if I need anything," he snapped as he shut the door in an angry rage behind him.
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Counting up his money after a hard day of selling, Will stuffed the bills into his pocket and removed a needle, already set for use. Jabbing it into his veins, his tense, aching body immediately relaxed as the drug began to seep into his blood stream. Lately, he'd been using more and more heroin, meaning that he was buying more and more from Chad at the end of the day. This also made it so that he was going home with less and less money to support himself and Angel. He'd been stashing a lot of extra powder in his drawers at home, for when he was dying for a fix.
"William, I think we need to have a chat," Chad began, as he counted the money Will had given him, giving a portion of it, Will's profit, back to him.
Still buzzing from the fix, but craving more drugs at the same time, Will looked at Chad and agreed. "Sure, what about?"
"I have to tell you, William, I'm a bit concerned. You seem to be shooting up an awful lot. I know you like it and all. I mean, all of us do once in a while, but -,"
"I'm fine," Will insisted, interrupting him.
"Okay, calm down," he said, giving Will a pathetic look of sympathy. "All I'm saying is that you've been going home with less and less money, because you've been giving more of it to me to buy yourself more materials to have at home. I warned you that if you took up the habit, you'd end up losing more money than you would if you were unemployed. I know how much you needed this job, and how desperate you were when you came to me. I'm just looking out for your own well-being, buddy."
"Chad, I'm a big boy," Will stated, in all seriousness, "You don't' need to look out for me. I'm fine."
"It's just that I've been in this buisness for a long time, and I've seen a lot of people turn into mindless, homeless junkies in a matter of months. I may be your boss, but I don't want you to lose yourself in this world we help create."
"I'll be fine!" he reassured Chad.
"If you say so. But your income is getting lower and lower. Soon, you're gonna start owing me money, if you're not careful. Just watch yourself."
"I will, I will. I'll see you tomorrow," Will said, walking out of the dark and musty apartment.
"Take care, and happy Valentine's day," Chad answered.
"You too," Will mumbled, ready to go home and have another fix.
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The winter air was making Angel's eyes sting and tear. He wasn't crying, really. "It's the weather," he kept trying to convince himself, to no avail. The conversation he'd had with Fred earlier in the day had made him really think about his situation.
He couldn't keep letting Will do this to himself, or to him. He needed to stop the cycle now, before something truly serious happened. After wandering around the East Village for the majority of the afternoon, Angel had finally come up with a plan.
It was obvious that he couldn't change Will without first letting him know that he knew about the drugs. He had to confront Will, and tonight would be the night.
Walking into the clean apartment, Angel looked around a bit, then called out, "Will? Baby, are you here?"
No answer.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he waltzed into the bedroom to lay out his clothes and get to work. The actual process of letting Will know that he was on to his secret would only take a matter of minutes, but planning what he would say afterwards would take considerably longer.
He shuffled through his wardrobe, trying to find the perfect outfit. Tonight was going to be a very important night, perhaps the most pivotal night of his and Will's relationship. He needed to find just the right clothes. After fumbling through the giant wardrobe, Angel settled on an outfit that was a newer addition to his wardrobe: a black shirt, with a pink zigzag and pink fishnet sleeves, and the black jeans with the rhinestones down the side. Laying the clothes neatly on the bed so as not to wrinkle them, Angel walked over to Will's dresser, looking at it for a second.
He truly felt guilty invading his lover's privacy, the way that he was. He and Will had always believed that trust was important, and they had both trusted each other to respect one another's privacy. Angel knew, however, that this was a different circumstance. Pushing away the guilt that was eating at his heart, he opened the bottom sock drawer and was greeted by the evil powder. Taking out handfuls of small, plastic bags, each filled with the white substance, he placed them into the garbage bag that was sitting next to him. After the sock drawer was emptied, he opened every other drawer, shuffling through Will's clothing, finding bag after bag of heroin, each one sending a new slice of hurt through his tattered heart. When all the drawers were finally empty, Angel tied the garbage shut, dragged it down the hallway and threw it out in the garbage can sitting along the street. Some homeless junkie would hit the jackpot tonight.
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Will's eyes were bugging out of his head by the time he got to the apartment. His last fix had only been an hour ago, and already he was beginning to shake and crave the relaxation and happiness that the heroin brought him. He could almost see the bags lined up beneath his clothes in his dresser, each one holding the key to his happiness. He hadn't even remembered it was Valentine's day today, and when he walked in the door, he was surprised to be greeted by Angel.
Barely even acknowledging Angel's presence, Will brushed past him and rushed over to the dresser, ripping open the sock drawer to fulfill his needs. He was greeted only by the neat rows of white socks, no white powder.
Frantically, he tore every drawer out of the dresser, madly searching for anything to satisfy the craving. His eyes blazing, he dashed into the kitchen where Angel was standing, calmly drinking a glass of water.
"Where is it?" Will asked him, his voice a low, angry growl.
"I threw it out. All of it," Angel answered softly, his eyes reflecting determination in his soul.
"What do you mean you -," Will began, his hands clenching into fists.
"What, you didn't think I knew? Baby, I've known since the first time you did it, but I didn't know how to tell you. I want you to stop. It's destroying our relationship. I love you, and I want the old you back," Angel insisted, his voice still serene.
Almost as if Angel hadn't said anything at all, Will approached him, gripping his arm violently. "What the fuck did you do with it?"
"I - I told you," Angel stammered, the calmness in his voice quickly replaced by the familiar submissive fear, "I threw it out. I want you to stop, and this is the only way."
"You little bitch," Will screamed.
Angel was speechless, gaping silently at his crazed lover. Before he even knew what happened he felt the stinging slap on his face, and the violent collision of his spine against the wall. He gasped quietly as the wind was knocked out of him for a second. Will picked him up and threw him to the ground, his back smashing against the hard floor.
"You stupid bitch! Why would you do that?" he shrieked in Angel's face, "Why?"
"I - I'm s - sorry," Angel stumbled over his words, trying to explain his motives to Will.
He couldn't even continue his reasoning as Will sharply drove an elbow into his ribs. Yelping in pain, Angel tried to defend himself, holding his skinny arms in front of his face to block the blows. It was useless. A series of harsh, painful punches were hurled at him, each one more excruciating than the next.
Barely conscious, Angel lay, virtually motionless, on the floor, moving only when his body spasmed in pain as Will continued to beat him. He could feel his eyes beginning to swell and bruise as Will cursed with each shattering blow to Angel's fragile body.
Eventually, the beatings stopped. Angel lay in a bruised, bloody heap on the floor. Will looked at him as the fire in his eyes died down. "Oh my god," he whispered, stepping out of his crazy, drug-deprived state of mind for the first time that night. Getting up quickly, he looked one last time at Angel, wondering briefly if he had done any permanent damage. Scared, he fled the apartment and slammed the door behind him, not knowing where he was going or how he would get there.
Once Will had left, Angel groaned quietly, and attempted to roll over. Immediately regretting it, he moved his hand slightly and felt the cordless phone next to him. How he was able to dial the number of the club in such a delirious state he'll never know, but the when Fred's soothing, deep voice answered on the other line, Angel felt a rush of relief, along with a new wave of pain.
"Fred," he spoke, barely able to choke out a sound louder than a whisper.
"Angel?" Fred asked, concerned.
"You need to come here."
"Why, what happened? Angel, what happened to you?" Fred prodded, as Angel's eyelids began to feel heavy, the pain ripping through his entire body.
"Just get here," he whispered as consciousness left him.
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The bleeping sound of the monitor next to him woke him up. Groggy, and still in intense pain, Angel glanced around the room, seeing the stark, sterile-white walls of his room, and the dark sky outside the window. Moving his arm slightly, he looked at the black and blue splotches that ran all the way up it. The memory of the night's events began to rush back. Shutting his eyes, as if he would forget if he couldn't see, Angel attempted to push the memories out of his head. He could still feel the contact of Will's rock-hard fists on his fragile body. The tears rushed down his cheeks as Fred entered the room.
"Thank god you're finally awake," Fred breathed as he walked in and sat in the chair next to Angel's bed.
"How long was I asleep for?" he asked, his voice still hoarse and weak, similar to the condition his body was in.
"Awhile. It's about 2 AM, and I think you got here around 11."
"Oh," Angel replied, not knowing what to say.
"Can we talk about this?" Fred asked, as he made himself comfortable.
Sighing, and looking a bit annoyed, Angel answered him, "I - I don't really want to talk about it, I mean -."
"You can't keep avoiding the subject forever, Ang. I'm not going anywhere any time soon, and neither are you, so I'm just gonna sit here and wait until you're ready to spill."
Shifting a bit in his bed, his face immediately twisting into a look of pain from the movement, Angel looked at Fred, not wanting to share the horrifying events of the past couple of hours. "It's just. god, it's been such a long night. It's my fault."
"Stop it," Fred cut in, harshly, "I never wanna hear you blame yourself for what he's doing. Nothing like this is ever your fault, you know that."
"No, but, really. I did something stupid. Remember what we talked about this morning, how we talked about how I needed to do something about the problem? I did something. I got this brilliant idea that I should throw out his stash."
Fred looked at Angel, slightly confused.
"I know it was stupid. And, looking back on it, I was practically asking for him to get mad at me. I shouldn't be blaming myself for what he does, but this time I think it's justified. So he came home, and I was all confident, and ready to tell him that he had to stop what he was doing, and that I wanted to old Will back. So he came in, and he just ran right past me and ripped the drawers open, and there was nothing there. He came back out, and I'd never seen him so mad. I told him, calmly, where it was, and instead of him giving in and telling me I was right, he called me a bitch and that's when it started, and I just -," his voice broke as tears began to spill from his eyes, "I wanted to badly for everything to work, and it won't!"
Fred gently placed his hand on top of Angel's looking at him, sympathetically. "I know you love him, but you can't change him. He has to change himself, and until he does it is not safe for you to be there. You need to do what's best, and you need to get yourself out. Queenie and I already made space for you."
"I hate him. I love him, but I hate him, does that make any sense?" Angel asked, wiping his tears away. "Look at this! Look at where I am and look at what I let myself get into! Goddamnit! That stupid son-of-a-bitch! I don't want anything to do with him at all!" The rage was beginning to take over his thoughts, overpowering any love and sympathy that he felt for Will.
"I understand completely. You're really angry right now, but I'm glad that you've realized that you need to get out of this."
"I do realize it. I'm not even using his name anymore. I'm Angel Schunard again, not Angel Dumott," he insisted. Suddenly, his eyes softened and he looked over at Fred, "Thank you so much for being there for me. You're the closest thing to a real father I've ever had, and I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here. I love you, I really do."
A warm smile appeared on his face, as he looked at Angel, bruised and battered, and held on a bit tighter to his hand. "I love you too. I know Queenie and I have told you a million times before, but you're our son, whether the DNA says so or not." He sighed, "Well, I'm gonna let you get some rest. The nurses keep saying that they need to "'look at you,' again anyway, so I'll get going. Rest up, Ang, and let me know if you need anything at all."
"I will, I will. Thanks again," Angel replied, settling back into bed, watching Fred leave as the doctors came in.
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Almost as quickly as the friendly nurse had entered, she left Angel's room, shutting the door quietly.
Rushing up to her, Queenie looked anxious as she asked, "Is he gonna be okay?"
Smiling kindly, the nurse placed her hand on Queenie's shoulder, "He's gonna be fine. He's got a small fracture in his left arm, but that should heal quickly and easily. He can go home in a few days. It's just a lot of bruising, internal and external. He'll be sore for a week or two, but it's nothing serious. He's very fortunate, you know," she continued as her warm smile faded, suggesting seriousness in what she was saying, "This is the kind of thing that could have gotten very, very serious. I've seen people in a lot worse condition."
"Thank you," Queenie replied quietly, as she wiped her tears away. Turning to Fred, she held her arms open, waiting for him to embrace her. Crying quietly on Fred's shoulder, Queenie held him tightly as he attempted to console her.
"Just be thankful that he's okay, and he'll get through it," he whispered softly to her.
"I know, I am, it's just that. God, that stupid bastard!" she hissed between her sobs, "If I see him, I don't even know what I'm gonna -."
As if on cue, the elevator door opened, and Will stepped out.
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A/N: Yeah cliffhangers!!! Sorry it's been so long since I've updated. I was originally gonna write more of this chapter, but it ended up being almost 10 pages long, which was ridiculous, so now it'll be 2 different chapters. Please R/R and thanks for being patient with me. To my loyal readers, I love you guys!