Angel's Spotty Secret Ch. 5
Angel’s room was oddly dark. The normally vibrant pink LED lights were turned off, leaving the room pitch black. The only light was the hallway seeping through the crack under the door and Fat Nuggets’s glowing eyes. The piglet stared worriedly at his owner’s bed, only a fraction of his head poking out of the blanket. He perked up when he saw movement, but all that happened was a wadded-up tissue being discarded on the floor.
Within two days, the spots had multiplied, leaving Angel feeling like fire ants were crawling all over his body. Every move felt like his muscles were on fire; he could barely get out of bed. His body temperature kept switching from ice cold to sweltering hot. More of his fur had fallen off in patches, and he even lost his chest fluff. What fur remained was unkempt and sticking in every direction. He looked like a mangy dog bitten by fleas. Felt like it, too.
He groaned as he ran a clawed hand over his scalp, sending more fur flying.
“Exorcists, kill me now,” Angel muttered to himself before coughing weakly into his pillows. He opened one crusty, sleep-deprived eye not covered by pillows.
Empty lotion bottles and tissues filled the trashcan. The bucket next to his bed was empty, but it reeked of stomach acid. There were plates of food with either a few bites or left untouched. His fur was all over the place; it was like a Persian cat had come in and rubbed itself against everything. In short, his room was a mess.
A dry cough escaped his desert of a mouth. He reached out for a water bottle on a nightstand, but his limp arm pushed it off the edge. The plastic bottle bounced off the floor like a ball until it lost momentum and rolled away. He ran a dry tongue over his chapped lips.
His blankets fell off limply as Angel pulled himself out of bed. Every move took a lot of effort; his joints were sore as hell from the illness and lack of movement.
Fat Nuggets watched as Angel struggled to reach the bathroom. He trotted towards the door that was slightly ajar and pushed it with all his might, his little snout pressed against the wood like a xylophone.
“Thanks, Nuggs.” Angel walked into the bathroom one inch at a time. Eventually, he reached the sink covered in miscellaneous bottles. His legs shook as they struggled to hold his weight. His hand slid against the counter until his fingers brushed against his concealer. With what little remained of the makeup, he slathered the cosmetics over the numerous spots on his face and the dark circles under his eyes. Angel spared a single glance at his reflection. He looked like shit; dark bags, missing fur, runny nose, and an angry rash covering every inch of his skin. On the toilet, his dark pink robe was draped over the back. He grabbed it and covered up the rest of his body in the soft fabric. After a quick scratch at his shoulder and thigh, he made his way out of his room. Next to the door was a sandwich on a silver plate and a little note covered in hearts, but he paid it no mind.
On the same floor, but right above a corner of the bar, Sir Pentious was busy securing a handle to hang on the railing overlooking the entire room. His tail was wrapped around the rails as he worked on placing some screws closer to the edge. Charlie stood on the same floor next to a toolbox, looking down at the first floor. The only ones she could see were Husk at the bar and Alastor sitting in the parlor.
“Next is the screwdriver,” Pentious instructed, holding his hand out expectantly towards Charlie. But the princess had her eyes on the staircase leading to the second floor. Any noise near the stairs got her hopes up only to be squashed down when Angel Dust didn’t walk down. For the past couple of days, she’d barely seen Angel except when he left to walk Fat Nuggets or grab water, and every time, he looked so tired and crestfallen. What she wanted more than anything was to hug him and tell him everything was ok-
“Ms. Morningstar, the screwdriver!” Pentious shouted.
That snapped Charlie out of her funk. Remembering why she was there, she quickly handed Sir Pentious the tool he asked for. The sound of screws being twisted joined the rhythm of Charlie’s foot tapping.
“Finished!” Pentious announced triumphantly. Charlie carefully placed her phone on the claw-like handle. Once she was positive that it was secure, she fiddled with the camera until she was satisfied with the focus and it was recording. She ran down to the first floor and stood in front of the camera.
“Can you see me on the screen?” Charlie asked Sir Pentious.
By then, the snake had slithered back onto the second floor. His eyes squinted at the screen, but his inspection was cut off by his Egg Bois running behind him chasing after Keekee.
“It lookssss perfect,” Pentious hastily reassured before running after his eggs.
Charlie smiled and waved at the phone. Just as she was about to introduce herself, a set of footsteps clicked against the stairs. Charlie turned around with stars in her eyes, but they died down when she saw Vaggie walking down. Her smile turned into a frown, and her shoulders slumped.
“You’re not happy to see me? That's a first,” Vaggie snorted playfully as she walked down the last few steps.
Charlie blushed in embarrassment. “No, no, no, no, I’m always happy to see you! You're the love of my life,” she said, flustered.
“Babe, relax, I was just messing with you,” Vaggie said as she placed a hand on her shoulder.
That was enough to calm Charlie’s nerves, and she kissed Vaggie on the forehead, which got a quiet giggle out of her girlfriend.
“Is everything okay?” Vaggie asked. “You seem distracted.”
Charlie sighed before saying, “It's Angel.”
Vaggie rolled her eye. “Oh Lord, what did he do this time?”
“Nothing, that’s the problem.”
Vaggie was a bit taken aback by that.
“ ¿ De verdad?” she questioned.
“I’m serious, Vaggie, I’m really worried about him. He’s not eating, he barely leaves his room, and when he does, he’s fidgeting nonstop.”
Vaggie was about to disprove her with a reminder of Angel’s most recent stunt, only to realize the last one was three days ago during the game night. Given Angel’s line of work, it wasn’t odd for him to come and go at all hours of the day, so she didn't keep track of his schedule. But even for him, hiding away for so long was odd.
“Am I the only one here who’s not blind or stupid?” A gruff voice pointed out.
The couple turned towards Husk.
“You seriously can’t see that he’s sick as a dog? You could see it from goddamn space, it’s that obvious,” Husk finished his mini-rant with a swig from a bottle.
Charlie slapped her forehead and groaned.
“How could I be so stupid?” Charlie exclaimed. "Of course he's sick; it explains everything!"
Vaggie placed a hand on her chin as he thought about it as well. “It was weird that he didn’t fight me harder for the painkillers," Vaggie thought out loud. But as the realization sank in, a new one emerged. “Wait a minute, how long have you known this?”
“Two days," Husk answered.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell us?!” Vaggie snarled.
Husk shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”
They were all cut off by a scream. Above them, one of the Egg Bois was clinging to the railing for dear life. Pentious desperately tried to reach the Egg while keeping the rest of his minions calm.
“Vaggie, go talk to Angel, I’ll join you in a second!” Charlie ran up to the rail, holding her arms out to catch the egg.
Vaggie returned to the stairs and walked down the hall leading to Angel’s room.
Unbeknownst to them all, Alastor had listened to the entire conversation. With no eyes on him, he melted into the shadows.
In a dark hallway, Angel hugged the wall for dear life as he put one shaking foot in front of the other. Every step was pure agony; more than once he had to stop to keep his legs from giving out. But the promise of cold water against his burning throat kept him going. Angel kept his eyes on the stairs, each step bringing him closer to his destination. His breath came out raggedly as his lungs tried desperately to suppress his coughs. He tried to be discreet with his scratching, but he still felt too exposed. Even with no one around, it was like eyes were following him. He just needed to grab a water bottle, and he could retreat to his covers.
“Ange-” The next thing he knew, he ran into something soft and warm. After shaking off the confusion, he saw Vaggie standing in front of him like an obstacle, and he was not in the mood for any more of those.
“What do you want?” Angel croaked.
Vaggie winced at hearing Angel’s broken voice, but she composed herself. “Listen, Charlie and I are worried about you, and Husk says you weren’t feeling well,” she explained calmly.
Angel looked shocked and held a hand to his face. His nerves calmed down a little when he felt the concealer still sticking to his skin.
Note to self: kill Husk, Angel thought.
Suddenly, a chill ran up his spine; this time, it wasn’t from the fever. There was a familiar static purring behind him; he didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.
“Aw, come now, Angel, don’t clam up. After all, we’re all just itching to know.” Alastor ran his mic across Angel’s back. Angel fidgeted as it ran over several spots, igniting them like a match. He gave the Radio Demon a death glare, who continued to smile.
“Angel?” Vaggie pulled his attention back to her.
“Look, it’s just a head cold,” Angel lied through his sharp teeth. Behind his back, he held a vice grip on one of his hands that was trying to claw at his spots. Alastor’s smile grew bigger as he watched Angel squirm. Unfortunately for Angel, Vaggie did not look convinced. She kept her signature sharp gaze on the spider as if looking for any sign of weakness. Angel rolled his eyes, and with his long legs, he easily walked around her. But then he was stopped by a pattern of pinstripes that made him dizzy.
“Now, now, my dear, we both know that lie was spotty at best.” Alastor slowly placed his hands on Angel’s shoulders, one finger at a time. His grip tightened around the blisters, which made Angel squirm further. Angel’s fingers twitched in agony, but he squeezed every drop of self-control into keeping his hands off himself. Meanwhile, Alastor stared him down, waiting for him to crack.
“Al, keep him still,” Vaggie instructed. Alastor was happy to oblige, sinking his claws deeper into Angel’s skin. Angel winced as the radio demon’s sharp claws dug into his sensitive flesh.
Angel felt his heart beat faster the closer Vaggie got. Suddenly, she pulled his neck by his choker so he was down to her level. She then placed the back of her hand against his forehead. In a panic, Angel shoved her away with his second set of hands and wriggled out of Alastor’s grasp. Once free, Angel’s hands went towards his shoulders, but he stopped them in the nick of time. He turned towards the two with obvious anger.
“Will ya two knock it the fuck off?!” Angel shouted, which triggered a coughing fit. He clutched his flattened chest as he tried to regain his breathing. When he finally did, he noticed that Vaggie looked bewildered, as if he had grown another pair of arms. He looked down and, to his surprise, he had, and they were scraping at his shoulder and arm.
Arms, you had one fuckin’ job! He scolded himself before forcing his third set of arms back to retract.
Vaggie forcibly grabbed his scratched-up arm and pushed up the sleeve to see the blisters.
Vaggie took a step back in shock. “What is that, a rash?”
“I-it’s hives!” Angel stammered as he pulled down his sleeve.
Her surprise was quickly replaced with skepticism. “Really? What are you allergic to?” she asked with one raised eyebrow.
“Nope,” Vaggie rebutted in a second, “Husk served mint daiquiris last week, and you had five.”
“I’m getting Charlie,” Vaggie declared before turning back to the stairs.
Angel stiffened at the mention of Charlie. He ran after Vaggie with his arms out. Just as they both reached the edge of the staircase, something caught on the edge of his robe. His heart fell into his stomach when his feet didn't connect with the ground. The next thing he knew, he fell onto Vaggie and they were both sent tumbling down the stairs.
In the lobby, Charlie placed a band-aid over some cracks on the Egg’s shell while Pentious comforted the sniffling egg. After a quick kiss on the wound, she closed up the first aid kit.
“Glad that's over,” Charlie concluded.
There was a loud thud behind her. She turned around and saw Angel and Vaggie tangled up in each other on the floor. Husk was downing his second bottle when he was startled out of his stupor by the two falling down the stairs.
“Oh my God,” Charlie rushed towards the two, “are you two okay?”
The duo moaned in pain. Angel, in particular, was in much more distress than Vaggie. He tried to pull himself away, but it felt like a boulder was pressed against his back. It didn’t help that the whole world was spinning. Through his blurry vision, he could see a familiar clawed hand reaching out to him. Through all the chaos, none of them noticed Angel’s robe was missing.
Alastor stood over them all at the top of the stairs. At his feet was Angel’s robe, the end pinned under his cane. He watched as Angel struggled to regain his composure. He could tell every movement was pure agony for him. However, Alastor was not done. With a snap of his fingers, a metal bucket appeared right above the trio. Within seconds, the bucket fell to the ground, along with the water inside.
Charlie helped Vaggie back on her feet while Husk pulled Angel to a standing position.
“I hate this fuckin’ da-” he was cut off by a heavy splash slapping him in the back of the head. The next thing he knew, a metal bucket banged into his head with a loud clang. He sat there with a bucket over his head. At first, he didn’t move a muscle, then he tore the bucket off and tossed it to the other side of the room. Angel watched as the bucket crashed into the wall, leaving a giant dent in it.
“Fuck me! Fuck this day! Fuck this hotel! Fuck my job! Fuck everything! Could this day get any fuckin’ worse?!” Angel shouted with all his rage.
He immediately regretted it when he doubled over coughing. Every hack ripped at his throat like rusty fish hooks. When it died down, he was gasping for air. While bent down, he noticed the murky puddle getting bigger with each drip from his face. He patted his wet face to find the concealer gone, not to mention his robe. The water had pressed his fur to his skin, showing off his ribs sticking out. The spots covering every inch of him seemed to glow like Christmas lights against his pale skin. The entire hotel was witness to his pox-ridden body. His eyes darted around the room. Everyone was staring at him with various levels of disbelief. That's when he finally noticed the phone pointed towards him, recording.
He ran back up the stairs on unsteady feet, slipping more than once on the stairs. He ran past Alastor and down the hallway in a mad dash to escape. He kept running to his room on his sore legs fueled by pure adrenaline. Angel swung the door open and slammed it shut behind him, scaring his piglet. Once the adrenaline wore off, he slid against the door until he hit the floor. With shaky hands, he opened his phone to VoxTube. It didn’t take long for her to find Charlie’s account. In the stream, Pentious and Husk were still in the lobby, while Charlie and Vaggie were long gone. But his eyes were glued on the comments coming in droves.
Thousands of comments ranged from surprise to disgust. But the ones he focused on the most were the mocking laughter. So many found his suffering hilarious. Every other comment was either a laughing emoji or someone saying how funny it was he looked like gutter trash. His world grew darker with each comment. He could hear the laughter all around him. He slammed his hands over his ears, praying for the laughter to stop. The walls stared daggers at him. He pulled his head into his knees and squeezed his eyes shut. His ragged breath came out in smaller bursts. His whole body felt ice cold. His heart was ready to burst out of his chest.
There was a knock at the door. Angel pulled his head out of his knees. The laughter had died down and the eyes disappeared. He ran a hand over his face to find it soaked in tears.
“Angel, it's me,” Charlie’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Can I come in?”
Angel didn’t say anything and curled back into a ball.
“Angel, please, let me help you. I can get you some soup and medicine.”
Still no answer. There was a brief silence until he heard a dull thud against the door, the same kind he made when he collapsed against his side of the door.
“I’m sorry I didn’t help you earlier. I should have noticed how much you were hurting. I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t want to push you any further. Not after last time.”
That got Angel’s attention. He could still remember the day she came to the studio. He still felt like a piece of shit for pushing her away then, truly believing it was for both of their safety. Guilt dug a tiny claw into his heart. He was the one hiding his symptoms, and yet, she was beating herself up for not seeing them.
“You don’t have to let me in, but at least let me call you a doctor. I can make sure it’s someone who won’t hurt you...please?”
Angel could feel his muscles unclenching. The prospect of any relief was starting to sound good, but the incident was still weighing down on him. He couldn't bring himself to turn the doorknob yet. As he sat in the fetal position, he heard a familiar snorting. Fat Nuggets, once again, wedged himself in between Angel’s legs and stomach. Without hesitating, he pulled the piglet into his lap. He could feel his broken walls crumbling. New tears were beginning to form.
Charlie sat in the same position in the hallway. She looked like she was ready to cry as well. It felt like hours were passing instead of minutes. Suddenly, she heard the familiar click of a door unlocking. She stood up in a split second and wiped away her tears. The door creaked open slowly. Angel stood in front of Charlie while holding Fat Nuggets. The next thing she knew, she was being pulled into a tight hug, her face pressed against his flat chest. She could feel his breath coming in hitches and tears soaking into her hair. Charlie wrapped her arms around Angel’s lanky body. Tears began to flow down her cheeks as well. They stood there for a while, letting their emotions spill like a waterfall.
