Johnny felt nervous. He really wanted to know what this boy had to say and he hoped to God he had a good answer.

Three years of electric blue eyes in his dreams, plump,pink bitable lips and soft,smooth skin. The angel was here in the flesh.Three years.

He couldn't believe that's how long he'd been thinking of just one person. The people he helped were supposed to be anonymous. He'd kept it that way when he joined the Angels. It was the one thing he'd asked from Tomas. He didn't want to know, get attached. Nonetheless, Tomas told him of all people that wanted to thank him for destroying their problems, giving them another chance to breathe, feel like the sun had finally shined in their little patch of the world. He always threw away the cards, those people were wasting their time. He didn't want their thanks.

This boy was the exception but he wanted much more than gratitude.

It wasn't easy to meet with the people who needed help from the Angels. They were desperate, beaten down, hopeless really. He heard it every time from his buddies describing when people would come calling for an Angel, knowing they'd die if they didn't take this measure, this last step.

Johnny suddenly became sick. He didn't want this angel, his angel to feel that way.

"I'll try not to." The boy mumbled.

It wasn't a good enough answer but he'd take it. He liked the boy's voice. It fit him. It gave him a warm,fuzzy feeling and warmed his core. It like the buzz of a bee but without the sting, a deep melodious timbre that resonated in Johnny's mind. He was glad to finally hear it.

He leaned up against the sleek, dark wood of the bar but immediately regretted it. He'd leaned on his bad shoulder, the shoulder that had kept him out of the ring for some time now. Maybe it was a good thing. If he was working, who knows who would have answered the boy's call and he'd be out there working someone else's problems. He would have missed his chance.

He was glad he could be here. He wanted the boy's problems done with as soon as possible. No one was going to drive him away this time.

He considered the boy's answer and decided to cut him some slack. What else was he supposed to do when he felt threatened? It was a sensible way to go about things when you hadn't gained the ability to defend yourself. You leave and come back later to finish the fight or you run forever.

For a moment, Johnny forgot his infatuation for the boy and looked past his dreamy appearance to get real good look at the supposed angel sitting next to him. He looked down at his hunched figured, again covered in that ratty hoodie, blocking most of his features, dirty blonde hair peeking out from the top.

He looked tired, bags under his eyes.

He won't even look me in the face.

There was a stiffness to his body that Johnny didn't like. His answer was weak and his body was showing just how as he looked ready to bolt any minute. Johnny wouldn't have that. So, he grabbed the chair the boy sat in and dragged him closer. The boy responded hitting Johnny arms. He might as well have been beating drums because Johnny wasn't going to stop. With the boys legs locked in place between Johnny's thighs,Johnny stared him down but refrained from touching him any further. He didn't have his permission yet.

"Look at me." Johnny prompted, annoyed that all he could see was the top of his head, an ugly grey.

The boy raised his eyes slowly, occasionally flicking them down in fear, maybe. Johnny didn't know. After minutes of struggling with himself he finally looked at Johnny straight in the eyes, like a trapped animal.

"I want to see you." Johnny told him, not at all uncomfortable with his tone. He wanted to speak to this boy softly. Let him know it was okay. Let him know he could trust Johnny with actually telling him those things. Everyone knew those words were bullshit if they'd didn't translate in your actions. "Can I see you?"

The boy bit his lip, a light shadow over his face, as his forehead creased. Had he asked for too much? No.

Finally, slender fingers, trembling fingers clutched the edges of the hoodie and Johnny caught his breath. With his full lips pursed, the boy lifted removed the hood slowly revealing himself. Johnny could see him squinting his eyes like he hadn't seen light in years.

Johnny felt the need to touch him. He hoped his hands would match the luscious appearance of the boy's skin but those were high hopes. Although he hadn't pummeled anyone in a while his hands were always rough. He was glad they were clean enough. He couldn't imagine blood staining an angel like this.However,the boy's legs were pressed so tight between his own, he was almost convinced he might have been holding his piss.It was obvious he didn't want Johnny's touch. How could he convince him?

"Thank you." He murmured, keeping his voice low. He watched as the boy shivered and inwardly delighted at his effect. He was getting somewhere. He needed to know more about him, not just for his personal gain but for the job Johnny knew he was going to take up. He rid this boy of his problems and make sure he was the only on taking up his time.

"What's your name?" He tried again, tried softly. He figured that was the best route. Didn't feel wonderful to hear someone's voice caress your body? That's how Johnny had felt as a kid when his mom lay injured on her bed, recovering from a blow, an unnecessary blow. He'd lain on the floor next to her on the rough carpet. Her frail hand wrapped in his hair, as he lay curled up, slowly lulling him to sleep by just the sound of her voice after he'd been frightened by the fighting in the house.

He felt precious in that moment. He felt so much admiration for his mother for her perseverance. Even in her pain she soothed him, even in her suffering she loved him.

He wanted this boy to feel precious too but he needed a name. His mother always called him Johnny and he was never giving it up no matter his age. It was the only thing he had left of her after she'd given up. Johnny didn't even hate her for it. She'd taken all she could and even with her last breath Johnny saw how much she loved him.

He wondered if he could ever do that for someone. He'd been avoiding the very thought. Johnny didn't particularly care about how he died. You die the way you live. He'd live his entire life fighting, he'd figure he'd died that way too but no one would ever know it was him. Who would he have to look upon in his final moments?

Maybe he'd have to start looking. He had a pretty good idea of where to start first.

He looked back down when he'd felt a hand on his arm. The closeness hadn't affected him so much as it did now. Before, it didn't mean anything. Before, the boy was trying to get away not soak up his warmth but now with the boy's hand on him it felt different.Skin to skin, his hand was cold. Johnny stared between the hand and the boy's face. Surprisingly, the boy stared back at him, not at all ashamed or tentative about touching him. Johnny didn't mind and was grateful that progress had been made without too much effort.

Breathing in a sigh of relief, Johnny remembered just how much he smelled and hated the fact that this was how he was presenting himself.

"I do smell don't I?" He suddenly posed to the boy, quirking an eyebrow. He was shocked when he was able to draw out laughter. It small and hoarse, almost like he was coughing but there no struggle to up end any debris from his body. It was supposed to be laughter but it seemed as if the boy hadn't laughed in awhile. Johnny wondered why.

"Like shit." Came the boy's harsh reply, before his bright blue eyes widened and his mouth shot open about to apologize but he didn't instead offering an explanation. "I don't like the smell of alcohol. I threw up the first time I ever tried it."

Johnny's mouth tipped upward as he watched the boy's face scrunch in disgust at the memory. He wanted to pinch his nose.

"You're not old enough to drink, are you?"

"Uh, no. I'm not." The boy sighed but stopped there. It was no matter to Johnny he'd just keep asking. The boy was too close to run now, too comfortable even as his fingers moved slightly over the flesh of Johnny's arm. It felt nice, familiar. Johnny would even go as far as to say intimate.

"How old are you? And don't bullshit me. You don't seem like the type try anything like that." Johnny said as the boy's eyes narrowed.

"Nineteen." He whispered sadly, like it was such a terrible thing. At least he'd made it this far. Johnny knew boys that never made it past eight. Sometimes he felt sorry them, sometimes he felt happy for them. It depended on his feeling about how fucked up the world was at that particular moment.

So he was sixteen when he first saw him and he hadn't changed one bit.

He vaguely registered that the boy was legal and could engage in other activities. Maybe more touching? That caught Johnny's attention. He liked the hand now, but it was cold. What if he could warm them?

"... today. I'm nineteen, today."

The boy sat up straighter, moving away and taking his hand with him. Johnny missed his touch.

"If you were wondering why I'm not so chipper about that is because..." the boy's throat closed, eyes shut tight as if pain. The boy's hands hovered over his face in inaction. Johnny became worried and really wanted to comfort him but the boy had pulled away already. He still didn't have the consent he needed.

"... the one person I'm meant to share it with, isn't here right now." The boy pushed out, his breathing hard. Johnny was sure he was in pain mentally and physically. Johnny hated seeing him like this.

"My name's Sage and I need you to find him for me." He said strongly, no longer stumbling over his words. His gaze unwavering as he put forth his request. It was time for Johnny to keep his end of the deal.

"He's your brother?"

Sage nodded.Sage.Sounds old.

"How long has he been gone?"

Sage stiffened this time and opened his mouth to answer, only to close it. Johnny could understand his sudden inability to speak. He'd never had to worry about any of his loved ones whereabouts. They were six feet under the ground, immovable,forever dead. He knew where their spirits had gone.

Sage didn't seem to have the same luxury.

"Three years." He finally got out and before Johnny could stop and think he said,

"He's as good as dead."

Sage shot up in his seat, grabbing the Johnny's collar, tears forming in his eyes dampening the light in them even further. "What the fuck did you just say?"

Sage sprung from his chair, pushing hard into Johnny's body but Johnny was frozen shocked by the transformation and didn't even bother to defend himself. This boy had been holding out on his dead brother for three years. Why would he put himself through that torture?

Sage wheezed, face contorted to portray abject horror. "He's not dead." He screamed, tears coming down his face.

"I'm sorry. I was only trying to speak the truth." Johnny tried but he'd dug an ever bigger hole. Sage's nails dug into his chest, trying to hurt him, but Johnny would take it. He could see sweat forming on Sage's forehead, his eyes sharp, his intent deadly.

However, the boy stopped, casting his head down and pulling away. His hands quickly folding around his chest, body swaying precariously as if he were about to faint.

In one final breath Sage told him, "Fuck you, you demon." And fled from his sight, as if hellfire would catch up to him.

Johnny had made a grave mistake.

・

song: close by nick jonas and tove lo aka the song i have on replay.