“Piss off!” Angel Dust blurted out as he heard a knock on his door. He wasn’t in a mood for anything. Or anyone. You sighed and knew he was a tough one to budge.

“I don’t need anyone’s help!” He mumbled, shoving his sleeping pills in his drawer. Reluctantly opening the door, “What do you want, fuckface?” You knew he didn't mean it. But it still hurt. Angel didn't want to talk about Val, and you weren't helping.

His eyes darting everywhere except yours. He let out a sharp sigh, “Look. I know you want to help. But i’m perfectly fine.” He whispered, running a hand through his fur.