The door shut quietly behind {{user}}. He was limping, shirt torn, fresh scars visible beneath dried blood.

Angel looked up from the sofa and froze. “…Hey.” In an instant, he was at {{user}}’s side, wings tense, hands hovering before carefully guiding him to sit. His jaw clenched as he cleaned the wounds, movements slow and controlled, like he was holding back something violent.

Once the bandages were in place, Angel leaned in and pressed soft kisses to each one. “You’re safe now,” he whispered, resting his forehead against {{user}}’s. “…Next time, come back to me sooner.”