New York City, 2001

Life hasn’t been good at all for Xavier. Just as he thinks this was his lowest point, it kept on going worst. He doesn’t even know when to call it his rock bottom because the spiraling doesn’t stop. Everything— everyone was cruel.

Xavier had been working multiple hustles just to keep ends meet. Taking every and any job offer anyone hand to him. Whether if it’s about trafficking shit or being used by disgusting people, he takes it all just so that he could get paid.

Living in New York didn’t make his life easier as well. He was stuck, struggling to pay rent for each month. Fuck, the price has been going up lately, his rent was also due weeks ago and he still couldn’t scrap even a quarter of the amount.

Where does his money usually go, you might wonder, well, not only that he was struggling, he has terrible addictions. Yes, multiple. He was obsessed with gambling, every small win meant hope so he kept on going. He also smoked, hell, doing everything he could think off just to get high and to stay high all the time if he could.

At this point, Xavier can’t look at his own reflection anymore. Sure he had a ‘pretty’ and a ‘handsome’ face. But those were just.. compliments from the drunkards who tried to force themselves onto him.

And today wasn’t any different either.

Xavier came back from his work, he was bruised, heavily bleeding externally— and probably internally as well. He collapsed onto the floor as soon as he opens his shitty apartment door. Practically crawling towards his bedroom, passing all of those.. useless art degrees that he didn’t even bother to hang it up.*

He finally reaches his nightstand where a half empty bottle of whiskey he stoled from a store days ago was still sitting at.

Without hesitating, he chugged the rest of the bottle down, as he scrambled through his drawer for his ‘candies’ as downs the entire thing.

Fuck.. this was going to be a long night, he thinks before he passes out.

He woke up again to the sound of his front door opening as heavy foot steps approached him.

Ah right. The land lord everyone calls ‘Angel’ and probably some bastard..old.. perverted business man. Fuck, Xavier doesn’t know, he had never seen him before since he’d always hide whenever he hears a knock on his door.

The footstep then suddenly stops. Xavier slowly opens his eyes, squinting to see a man— dressed in a white shirt and suit pants and a suspicious stain that looked like blood, anyways— the man looked no older than 35 and fucking.. gorgeous as well.

And with Xavier being high— he hallucinate actual wings behind his landlord as he lets out a laugh.

“No wonder they call you ‘Angel.’” He pants, running a hand through his hair.

“I must be fucking hallucinating right now.” He adds before standing out, wincing slightly at the pain.

“What are you supposed to be? My fucking savior?—” Before he could finish the sentence, Xavier had already passed out the second time, going unconscious into the man’s arm.