I know where beauty lives

[Julio de la Rosa]

Angel.

At the moment, Angel didn't look like one. Or maybe he did. An angel that had taken a dive for the world below and met the ground too hard. Julio reached out and helped Angel to sit up. Part of him wanted to tell him to lie back down, to give himself a break. But part of him also recognized the prideful side of man. Julio wouldn't want to lie back in front of a stranger, either.

Sitting his phone down on the table, Julio traded it for one of the sterile wipes. He made the sign for this is going to hurt before he thought. Angel wouldn't understand it but maybe he'd get the gist of it. He made the sign for hurt again to emphasize it, two fingers brought together with a slight twisting motion. Then he took the sterile pad and brought it to the gunkiest, worst looking parts of Angel's bloodied face.

[Angel Miguel Albares]

He didn't... didn't really want to know how bad it was. There was blood, there was dirt and grime, bits of garbage stuck to the wounds. If he didn't die from getting kicked in the head, he was probably going to die from infection. Angel swallowed hard. It was nice of Julio to let him be, to help him sit up, but a large part of him still wanted to head for the door. He didn't do well in strangers' apartments, when it was just himself and the other person. He didn't feel safe.

But there was no other choice, because he was beat up to hell and back and the last thing he wanted to do now was run. Where would he run to? The bus stop with no money? To buy a ticket with the cash he didn't have? His own apartment in Portland was about four times larger and ten times more opulent than this, but the problem was it was in Portland.

"What?" He watched the signing, completely clueless. Julio repeated it but he had no idea what that meant so he only nodded and gave consent to whatever he wanted to do. "Nnng..." Angel winced as the wipe slid against his cheek, stinging him sharply. He grabbed the faded couch cushion and grit his teeth hard—but he didn't make a sound. Just like he didn't make a sound back in the alley when those guys beat the shit out of him.

[Julio de la Rosa]

Ah, he knew it was going to hurt but there was so much grime that Julio didn't want to leave it to infection. Still, he tried his best to be gentle with his ministrations. He made a slight grimace and made the sign for sorry, expression just as apologetic.

Tucking a couple of fingers under Angel's chin, he moved his head as he continued to clean his face up. It took a couple of sterile pads before he had cleaned up the majority of it. Putting up a finger to tell Angel to wait--as if he was going anywhere?--Julio quickly got up and went back to the bathroom to find a clean washcloth. Soaking it in warm water, he squeezed out the excess and brought it back.

Sitting back down before Angel, he finished washing his face. Underneath all that blood was an angular, narrow face with big blue eyes and high cheekbones. It was the kind of face that belonged on a model, even with the bruises marring his face. Gently, he turned Angel's face so he could get a look at both sides.

Pointing to his own face under the eye, where Angel had a deep cut, he pointed back toward Angel's face in the same spot and then pulled out a sterile needle in a package. It might not need stitches, though. He bit his lip and rummaged through the items in the tin until he found a butterfly bandage, then looked at Angel in query.

[Angel Miguel Albares]

Was he a stripper? Or—dancer? Angel knew some of them didn't like being referred to as strippers, finding the term derogative. He didn't speak to them or anything to find out, it was just stuff he heard when they spoke near him. A lot of them didn't notice him when he wedged himself into that corner table, blending in with his dark clothes and usually with a hood over his head to hide the hair.

Vaguely he noted Julio's apologetic expression but all he did was shrug lightly in response. It had to hurt if it was going to be disinfected, there was nothing worth whining or cringing about. Angel did wince a few more times, unable to stop his body's natural response to the sharp stinging sensations, but he didn't say anything more. Julio couldn't respond to him anyway, could he? All of the signing went right over his head and in the end there wasn't much to say.

Thanks. Sorry for the trouble.

Eventually the wipes were put away and still silently, watchfully, Angel sat on the couch, barely moving. He eased back a little, still wary, as Julio returned from the bathroom but he had only gone to get a washcloth. Angel dropped his gaze as soon as his face was taken and turned and fought hard against the urge to pull away.

"What?" The... eye? Under his eye? He reached up a shaking hand to touch it and instinctively winced again when his fingers encountered a cut. "No. No needle. Please." Angel physically pushed away from the sight of it, curling into himself. He yanked nervously at the edge of his sleeve so that it fell far down over his hands and hugged himself. No needles. There were enough needles in his life that he didn't need to be prodded here, too.

[Julio de la Rosa]

All right. No needles, then. Julio put the needle away. Honestly, he wasn't even sure he could do it; he had never had to give anybody stitches before. He didn't think skin was quite as pliable as cloth. Especially the taut skin under Angel's eye. So Julio settled for the butterfly bandage, which would help close the wound without the use of the stitches.

Once he had carefully placed it beneath Angel's eye, he smiled to be encouraging. There! He had survived that part. But... After a moment, Julio reached for Angel's hoodie, as if to pull it up. There was no telling what kind of bruises and wounds Angel endured underneath all of his dark clothing.

[Angel Miguel Albares]

No needles.

He didn't fully relax until the packet had been set aside, and the butterfly bandage applied under his eye. It was taut and felt uncomfortable but it was better than having a needle inches from his eyeballs. Angel's gaze didn't lift up while Julio was leaned in close, but once he eased back, it hiked up to his face and to his handsome smile.

There wasn't much motivation in Angel to smile back at him, even if he found Julio's smile almost dazzling, but he nodded once slowly. "Thank you." The hood, though, was staying on. Angel was quick enough to catch it this time—unlike back at the club—and he shook his head stubbornly.

"I'm fine. Thank you." He didn't speak above a whisper. "I can—I just need some bus money to get home. I'll pay you back."

[Julio de la Rosa]

Although Julio tried to point out that there were likely more wounds beneath the coverage of his clothes, Angel seemed more than a little reluctant to let Julio look. It was almost foreign to him, to be shy about a body. Working with all the strippers at the club, he saw half naked bodies constantly. And he showed his own, too. But... not everybody was a stripper.

So Julio dropped his hands, to show he wasn't going to come after Angel again. Julio started to sign but then let out a sigh and reached for his phone instead. Carefully, he typed, "Are you sure? You can stay here, on the couch for the night."

Julio turned the phone toward Angel so he could read it. After all, it was dark out and if Angel went back into the night with those assholes walking around in their pack, beating people up for being queer...

[Angel Miguel Albares]

It was kind of weird being treated like this. Angel was sure Julio wanted some kind of payment in return for his kindness; it seemed like that was just the way that life was. It was the way life worked. Everything was... transactional.

He started to reach for his messenger bag, laying in a little heap by the side of the couch. No point checking for money in there; he heard those guys bragging about how much money they got out of his wallet earlier. Angel didn't think it was a lot but apparently those guys thought it was. Then again, most people didn't carry a couple hundred on them.

Money was never in short supply for Angel and truthfully he didn't spend much of it on anything other than that lavish apartment—and only then because his father wanted to invest in some real estate out here. He just happened to live there. It wasn't his to own. Although he didn't pay rent, he was responsible for not trashing it which... wasn't hard since he had no friends to speak of.

He peered at the phone; one of his eyes was puffy. "I'm okay." It was nice of Julio to offer but he wouldn't sleep a wink if he had to spend a night in a stranger's place. Angel was guarded for a very good reason. He brought the bag up into his lap and then hugged it almost like a shield. "I'm okay," he repeated, softly whispering. "I can get home on my own."

[Julio de la Rosa]

After a moment, Julio reached out and lightly touched Angel's forearm. He wasn't okay. He said that he was but clearly, he wasn't. Not only had he been beaten savagely, but he had been left for dead, all of his belongings on the street. There was no guarantee those assholes weren't patrolling the area for more victims to pounce on. What if they ran into Angel again and decided to finish what they started?

Obviously, Julio couldn't just let him go out alone, so he got to his feet and shook his head. Tilting his head, he began to type on his phone again.

"Let me go with you."

He turned the phone back toward Angel, brow furrowed. Angel said he could get home on his own but... There was no telling where that was or how safely Angel could get there. And what if he passed out on the way? Julio would never forgive himself for just... letting him go out into the night without an escort. (Double entendre unintended.)

[Angel Miguel Albares]

For half a second, Angel let the hand linger on his arm. A simple human touch, the warmth of a hand through the cloth of his sleeve, felt nice. It was something he needed in the moment. He'd had a rough night. He wasn't able to sketch anyone at the club; he couldn't watch all of Logan's show because someone spooked him. When he went outside, he was ambushed and beaten to within an inch of his life.

Right now, everything hurt. His body, his heart, his soul. Everything throbbed and ached and he was so tired that he could have passed out again. If he blinked too long, he might have slumped over. So having someone touch him gently, it meant a lot in that moment and Angel's guarded expression relaxed briefly into something a lot more honest and vulnerable.

But then it came back up when Julio's hand pulled away so that he could type on his phone. Angel shook his head again as he struggled to stand. "No... no thank you. I'll be fine. There's a bus stop outside... I live in Portland, so... it's fine." Julio couldn't escort him all the way out there—no point in him leaving his apartment when he'd just got home.

[Julio de la Rosa]

Did
Did he come across as some kind of creep? It was possible. People naturally didn't trust somebody that didn't talk. And somebody as skittish as Angel definitely must have seen Julio as another enemy, which was a shame. All he wanted to do was help; he had been in Angel's situation before. And he didn't have a friend to help him then.

Turning his gaze down at his phone, he read and reread his own words on the notepad. Even trying to stand, Angel looked unsteady on his feet. And he wanted to go out there on his own, to face that instead of staying here? Gently, Julio pressed a hand to Angel's shoulder to sit him back down, then signed don't. Quickly he sat back down before Angel and typed, "Please. Stay. You don't have to sleep. We can watch movies until it gets light and then I'll take you to the bus stop."

Pleadingly, he turned the phone to Angel.

[Angel Miguel Albares]

It probably wasn't good that even a little pressure to his shoulders made his knees buckle. Angel sat back down on the couch; a small crease appeared between his brows as he frowned. Was Julio trying to take him hostage here? Did he know who Angel was or something? Why did he insist on Angel staying?

Normal people would have thought that he was simply being nice. Normal people would have been glad for a place to stay for the night, to be taken care of by someone who had no visible ulterior motives. But Angel wasn't normal and he'd had some pretty traumatic experiences in the past that didn't lend themselves well to interacting with strangers in situations like these.

He read the text on the glowing screen with another frown, and then looked outside. It was really dark out there. Small towns weren't equipped with the sorts of lights that big cities were, so out here when it got dark... it got dark. The thought of going out there with those violent creeps outside made something in him shrivel.

"...you don't have to do this." He hugged his bag tight to his chest, gazing at the edge of the coffee table. "You don't even know me."

[Julio de la Rosa]

Huh? Stunned, Julio blinked, not even sure how to react for a moment. He... didn't have to do this, no... But... he wanted to. Did it seem like he was just doing this for... brownie points? Or... something else? Julio didn't know what Angel thought his motives were but it was clear that he wasn't accustomed to people treating him with kindness.

Slowly, he turned his phone back to himself and prepared to type but he didn't even know where to begin. No, Julio didn't know Andrea. He couldn't remember ever seeing him around before... which made sense, since he said he came from Portland. All the way from Portland... to see Logan? Julio wanted to ask about that but as skittish as Angel proved to be, he was afraid he would drive him out if he did.

"I just want to help." He paused, contemplating before he added, "I know what it's like to be beaten and left for dead over being different."

He thought it over a little more, then decided that it was okay to tell Angel this and turned the phone back to him. With his free hand, he pointed to a spot above his eyebrow, where the faintest line from a scar remained.

[Angel Miguel Albares]

Angel kept looking nervously outside, out at the darkness. Being alone... being alone in the dark, that was his worst nightmare. He couldn't even sleep in the dark, keeping a little night light on at all times while the radio or TV babbled on in the background to keep him company. It wasn't the silence that bothered him but... his imagine would invariably take over if he didn't have anything on.

He would hear things and he'd get twitchy, anxious.

So being out there in this pitch black darkness in a town he didn't feel familiar with, after being beaten up savagely... That wasn't a situation he wanted to put himself in. On the other hand, he was also skittish with strangers so it was kind of a toss-up between the lesser of two evils. Maybe a large part of him skewed towards staying with Julio, though, especially as Julio had been keeping a respectful distance and had made no untoward overtures towards him.

"...I'm sorry... I didn't mean to accuse you of... of anything."

He looked at the scar for a long time, as though he could tell its origins from staring at it at length. There was no way of knowing that Julio was telling the truth... but there was also no way of knowing that he was lying. Angel's grasp on the bag loosened and he forced himself to relax a little bit. Even though he wanted to know what happened to Julio, it seemed inappropriate to ask. But somebody handsome, tall, tough like Julio didn't seem different in the ways that Angel was different. His different was an attractive kind of different, the kind that drew people to him.

"What... kind of movies do you want to watch?"

[Julio de la Rosa]

Ah. Julio smiled and waved off Angel's contrition. He appreciated the apology, don't get him wrong, but he understood. Julio could be anybody. For all Angel knew, he was a bad person that had trapped him here for nefarious deeds. With so much evil in the world, it was a small wonder that Angel couldn't trust anybody. Honestly, the two of them were in the same boat regarding that one.

He could feel Angel's gaze on his scar and he remained still for a moment, to let him study it as long as he wanted. There were others, too, but they were currently not on display. The one over his eyebrow seemed like the easiest one to show Angel.

Smiling when he saw Angel starting to relax a little, Julio continued to smile as he typed. "Anything but horror?" He handed his phone to Angel for him to hold onto as he got up and went over to the hand-me-down TV cabinet. Crouching down, he opened the cupboard under the TV to reveal a bunch of old DVDs, stacked in no particular order. He started picking them up and putting them down on the ground, lining them up so Angel could see them. Since they were all dollar bin items, they were mostly old movies ranging from action movies to thrillers to the occasional romcom. Nothing from after 2015 or so.

You pick, he signed.