First class pain in the ass

[Angel Miguel Albares]

"You could have died you sons of bitches!" Jaime shouted furiously, and he actually looked scared. For once he wasn't glib or flippant. For once he seemed almost human. And Angel laughing didn't make him more inclined to calm down because he looked like he might murder them both.

It was just

He thought they were there by accident. That they didn't know they were on a ledge, about to take the fatal plunge over...? He was so stupid to think that. Angel was going to throw himself off, and here was Jaime thinking they were... what? Fooling around? He was so stupid. Angel stopped laughing finally—it was actually not an amused laugh. It was the delirious laugh of someone driven to the brink of madness.

He clung to Julio again and went silent as Jaime shooed the other party-goers away, telling them everything was fine. Angel closed his eyes and breathed in an unfamiliar scent—the outfit Julio had on—and then a familiar one when his head shifted. Julio's skin. Warmth. "Julio," he said quietly as his breathing finally began to calm. "You're here."

[Julio de la Rosa]

People were leaving. Good. It left the balcony quieter. And Angel stopped with that scary laughter, as if he were about to go mad. Something had snapped inside of him. Something... familiar. Julio sensed it but he didn't want to speculate or ruminate over it unless it was real and true. But he thought it was and it weighed heavy on his heart.

Julio cradled the back of Angel's head, fingertips in his hair, stroking him. Yes, he was here. He didn't know why he had come, not at first. But now it seemed like it was imperative that he be here. If not... He didn't know what would have happened to Angel. Maybe that Rey person would have helped him off the ledge. Maybe not. Maybe that Jaime person would have been too late. Julio's heart didn't want to dwell on those maybes.

Now he felt ashamed for thinking that Angel could possibly have called together strippers for a private show, after knowing what he knew about Julio. It wasn't Angel who put this together. Deep down, he thought he knew that but he was glad still that he had come. He had to make sure. He had to see Angel, to see what it was that he was doing.

For a long moment, he just held Angel and then he slid his hand over Angel's and signed, I'm sorry against his hand, using Angel's hand as the lower hand for the sign.

[Angel Miguel Albares]

Angel let himself be held. A step back from the ledge. Then another. The urge to fly faded with each stroke of Julio's hand against his hair and his heart rate calmed as the noise faded back into his apartment suite. Everyone wanted to watch the strippers; nobody wanted to stand around to look at two people laying on the balcony. There were a few people splashing around in the pool and laughing but they sounded far away to Angel.

Finally he looked up when Julio signed against his hand. It took him a brief moment to realize what it meant, then he shook his head bemusedly. "For what?" Angel shifted his weight; he didn't know if he was making Julio uncomfortable, laying on him like that. But he didn't go far and he held on to Julio still very tightly. If he lost his grasp... he might go back over.

"I thought you stopped doing shows," he said softly, searching Julio's gaze for answers. There had to be an explanation that made sense. Julio didn't lie to him, did he? He couldn't, not if the story he told was true—and not merely a story.

[Julio de la Rosa]

"I did," he signed. He hadn't done a private show since the incident he confided to Angel. Even the time he had come out to see Angel didn't count because he hadn't done a show; he had come to see Angel. If it hadn't been him... There was no way he could have gone through with it. He couldn't; he didn't have it in him to do that anymore.

Then he realized that his showing up with the others... did it hurt Angel to see him amongst them? To think he lied about how he didn't do private shows anymore? The way he looked into his eyes, as if pleading for an answer... Julio slowly sat up, eyes still on Angel. It seemed like they had both been hurt by this party.

"I declined until Sean told me it was at your address." He hesitated, glancing at the party within. From here, he could still hear the familiar beat of the music. Sean was probably annoyed as hell with him. But he wouldn't take any payment for this job; he had never intended to actually go through with it, anyway.

"I needed to see you."

[Angel Miguel Albares]

Angel sat up too, rubbing his elbow and watching Julio keenly as he tried to explain himself. "This isn't my party..." He glanced back inside; Jaime was nowhere in sight. "It's Jaime's. The one who pulled us down. He's an old high school classmate and he came from Spain, I didn't want to tell him to go stay somewhere else. But I didn't know he called the club. And he... it's hard to say no to him. He doesn't listen..."

Well, it was a long story but the point was, this wasn't Angel's party. He would never do something like this, trash his apartment and then order strippers on top of it, one of whom was Julio. Of all people, Julio. Angel sighed and turned back.

"Did you think I made the request?" Scooting closer he took Julio's hand, as it was a rhetorical question. Clearly Julio thought he did—it was his address. He didn't know what name Jaime gave them but it didn't look good either way. "I wouldn't do that to you, Julio. Why didn't you text me? I would have told you..."

[Julio de la Rosa]

No, this wasn't his party. He could see that plainly now. He had seen it when they arrived and he caught sight of Angel, clearly not enjoying himself. And... and Julio felt like an ass for assuming that it was ever his party. Angel would never do that to him. He knew that. He just... He looked down, feeling ashamed. He stared at their hands, at Angel's hand in his as he turned his into Angel's to thread their fingers.

He used his free hand to pull out his phone to text out, I had to see you in person. But I did text you when I got here. You didn't answer.

Now he thought it was because Angel must not have heard it over how loud everything was. That and maybe he just didn't have it on him. Julio took in a breath and he let it out slowly, the adrenaline that had been pumping through his veins still making him feel jittery.

He didn't know how to say it with just signs and text, that it wasn't as easy for him to express himself through just words in a text alone. He needed to see Angel, to see his face, to be able to show his face. There was so much of his communication that came through facial expressions and gestures outside of signing that it felt like a part of him wasn't coming through accurately.

[Angel Miguel Albares]

Angel nodded his understanding, not very good at expressing himself either in so many words. Funny... kind of, that he had all the words in the world at his disposal and couldn't use them. Meanwhile, poor Julio was restricted to texting—also, all the words in the world—and still, somehow, they didn't quite get there.

"I don't have my phone on me." Now it was Angel's turn to be shame-faced. He probably left it in his bedroom. In the rush of the party and just... hating how loud everything was, how confusing—how triggering—the last thing on his mind was his phone. But he ought to have had it, just so he could text Julio. He really thought about it, and he wanted to, but that thought was chased out of his mind by his own nerves and anxiety every time it surfaced.

"I want to get out of here, Julio." Angel didn't look at the balcony again. He fixed his eyes on Julio instead, shifting even closer to him and gripping his hand tight. "I want to go back to your place. Can we please?" He liked it there last time. It wasn't like his apartment, sterile and cold and white. It was lived-in, everything there screamed Julio and it had memories of one of the best nights of his life—movies, Steven Seagull, making dinner together.

[Julio de la Rosa]

He didn't even hesitate. He nodded and signed yes at the same time. All he wanted to do was get away from this place, with Angel and he was more than a little relieved that they were on the same page. With a small smile he gently touched Angel's face again, meant to be reassuring. Some part of him had an inkling now what Angel wanted to speak to him about and he wished that they didn't share a similar kind of trauma. And at the same time, he understood now why Angel was understanding.

No. He shouldn't assume. But at the very least, parties like this weren't good for him. Not for Angel. Not for Julio, either. Using the hand that gripped his so tightly, with their fingers wound and twined together like a knot, he got up and tugged Angel up with him.

"Let's go," he signed.

[Angel Miguel Albares]

Nobody really seemed to notice them leaving, which was a good thing for Angel—his head was still spinning from what happened. What almost happened. One of the other strippers did try briefly to stop Julio before they got out the door, but he stopped once he noticed them holding hands. A kind of knowing smile crept over his lips; he patted Julio on the back and then turned away into a group of women clustered nearby.

Angel didn't really have many words left in him and trying to think of things to say was exhausting, so he let the silence dominate. Down the elevator, out into the glitzy, glamorous lobby, then outside into cold air. His shoes scuffed the pavement that his body would have splattered onto had he leapt and even in that moment, he still thought about it. Flying.

He was about to call a cab when he realized that he didn't have his phone on him, and finally broke his silence. "Can you get a cab, Julio? I don't have my phone. I can pay for it."

[Julio de la Rosa]

Ah. Fresh air. It was quieter down here, out here. The tension hadn't yet left Julio's muscles but he did relax at least slightly. He nodded at Angel and used an app for impaired people to call them a cab. The world they lived in at least was much friendlier to people like himself, especially with all these advancements in technology.

Afterward, there was silence. Taking Angel's hand, he walked slowly over toward one of the benches outside. If that was all they ever did, he thought it would be fine. They could just... sit together like this, hand in hand forever. He turned his gaze toward Angel and half smiled at him. Then he looked downward as he typed furiously.

I wanted out, too. I don't like these things. I can handle it at the club just fine, when it's us guys on a stage. But when the people have access to us, it really gets to me.

[Angel Miguel Albares]

It was a lot colder out here without a jacket; upstairs with so many bodies crowding around it had been stifling, which didn't help his anxiety one little bit. Angel huddled on the bench beside Julio, glad for his warmth. But only on one side. The other side just had to freeze, there was nothing to be done about it.

Angel watched him typing away, studying his face by the light of the screen. He felt as if he hadn't seen Julio for weeks, but it had been days. Mere days. They talked all the time; in the morning as soon as he woke up he would check his phone. Out of the shower, the first thing he reached for was his phone. Every time the screen lit up with a message, his eyes lit up too and he would smile to himself. At night laying in bed, he would try to stay up as late as he could, catching messages between shows. Julio still had to work, after all. But more often than not he fell asleep clutching his phone, usually mid-message.

And he couldn't get Julio out of his head. Not only in thought, but his image, his profile, his smile and laugh. His eyes. His light. Where once Angel's sketchbooks were filled with Logan, now it was all Julio. He painted him and sketched him and sculpted him. There were a lot of half-finished busts that he kept hidden, not knowing if Julio would think it creepy that he was forming him out of clay. None of the pictures completely captured the real Julio though. There was a good likeness but his light couldn't be so easily portrayed.

"I'm sorry you had to come here." Angel slid a hand over Julio's, head on his shoulder and eyes on the screen. "I'm sorry. Next time don't come, even if it's my address. Especially if it's my address." He felt like Julio had been tricked—someone used his address and Julio had to come see what was going on. Jaime didn't do it to lure him out but it still felt horrible to know that he had exposed Julio to something like this.

[Julio de la Rosa]

Despite himself, Julio couldn't help smiling softly at Angel at his words. Apparently, he wasn't aware of how Julio was beginning to feel. There was no way that he would see Angel's address on something like that and not show up. Whether it was bad or good, he had to know. There wasn't an ounce of regret in showing up, either, because if he hadn't... if he hadn't... what would have happened to Angel?

Slowly, he typed, trying to take care with his words before he showed the phone's screen to Angel.

I'll always come when it's your address. And I'm not sorry I was here. Because if he wasn't, all he could imagine was somebody literally driving Angel off the edge of the building. The thought alone brought with it a heavy feeling in his chest, a fear that if he had stayed home and found out later that Angel had killed himself...

Hesitating, he added with trepidation, I like you a lot, Angel. And I don't know what I would do if I didn't come and something happened to you. I want you to know, whenever, you can contact me and you can come to my place any time you want. I'll give you a key. Okay?

[Angel Miguel Albares]

There it was again, muddying the waters of their strange relationship: I like you, Angel. What did they have? Friendship? Acquaintanceship? Angel didn't have a name for what they were except maybe involved. They were involved with each other; Julio was involved in his life, weaving himself into every moment of Angel's day.

He kept his gaze on the screen, re-reading the words. Julio being here was a godsend because Angel would have jumped had it not been for him. But having him here and forcing him to play superhero, just like last time, didn't sit well with Angel at all. Julio was already a hero—the foes he battled were inner demons. And he won. That was what made him a hero in Angel's eyes.

But what did he say? To the fact that Julio liked him? To his insistence on being here for Angel, who only seemed to get himself into situations where he needed saving? He didn't want that—for himself or for Julio. He wanted to be strong, too, but he didn't quite know where to start.

Slowly, he nodded, encompassing everything in the motion. Maybe it started with being honest, like Julio had been with him about the private shows and about them making him uncomfortable. Angel took a deep breath and turned into him, feeling the chill all over just at the thought of revisiting what happened to him all those years ago. Not yet. Not out here, exposed, in the open. Luckily the cab rolled up and beeped at them and he looked up quickly at the sound.

"Let's go." He held Julio's hand tight as he stood and waved to let the taxi driver know they were here.

[Julio de la Rosa]

As they got into the back of the cab, Julio wondered how well his words came off. The way Angel had gone so silent on him worried him. But he didn't get up and walk away. Maybe because he felt he had little choice? It was either go with Julio or go back home, where that party was taking place... and it could trigger another violently mindless action like the one before. Julio had felt the fear in such a wild, animalistic way himself, although he hadn't ever nearly thrown himself off a very high building.

But he understood, at the very least. So he hoped that Angel knew that he could trust him. Julio had no ulterior motives; he was just... he wasn't sure what he was doing. Following his instincts. Being there for somebody in a similar bad situation that he had been in before. Angel could use the support and Julio could, too. It wasn't even that he didn't have friends in the others... it was just they weren't...

He didn't have words for it. The feeling inside. Even with just the knowledge he had of Angel, he still felt like he had known him for much longer than he really had. He trusted him enough with information he never shared with anybody else.

In the cab, he sat close but not too close. He didn't touch Angel, either, sensing that it was best to let Angel show him when it was okay.

After a moment, with streetlights passing by and the lullaby of the car's quiet engine, Julio opened up his gallery on his phone and scrolled to a picture he'd taken, meaning to send it to Angel earlier but... also feeling awkward as hell about it. He had drawn and redrawn it, his version of Angel the hero. In his mind, they were rather partners than hero and sidekick, though. Shyly, he set the phone down in Angel's lap.

[Angel Miguel Albares]

Angel didn't know what to say to anything Julio typed out. There was so much pressure to say something—because he could, because he had the words inside but the problem was, they wouldn't come out. It wasn't the right place, outside in the blustery streets with so much noise wrapping around him. He found it hard to focus on any one thing, much less his own chaotic thoughts at the moment.

Once he stepped into the taxi it was better, but he didn't feel completely safe. Yet. Julio sitting beside him was already a great sense of relief, though they didn't touch. Angel glanced at him briefly when the cab rolled off, back to Hazleton and back to Julio's apartment. Unexpectedly in the town where he was attacked, a safe haven opened up. Kind of ironic, though—in the place he felt the least safe, he found refuge as well.

Angel didn't say anything and he kept his eyes on the window, idly watching scenery flashing past, until something landed in his lap. He picked it up and was briefly confused but that was him all right. Blue hair, blue eyes, dressed like a superhero. And again it was rough in the way that amateur art tended to be, but there was still something intriguing in it that transcended the sketchy lines. There was... emotion behind it. A strong emotion.

"Is this me?" He asked, slowly beginning to smile as he looked up at Julio. Then he looked back at the drawing again and gently ran a thumb over it, taking it all in, in its entirety. The figure in the drawing had much more strength than he felt he had in that moment. It was someone he hoped to be, though. Julio somehow had seen straight through into his heart, into his deepest desires, as if he had a direct line to Angel's thoughts.