Only Angel 2 [h.s] AU

Loyal to the complicated

Beau's POV
New York.

I didn't realize I was holding my breath until I woke up in my own bed.

The sheets smelled like lavender detergent and dry shampoo. A smell that should've comforted me. Instead, it felt like it belonged to someone else — someone who hadn't been on the floor of a penthouse in Seattle, begging her body to move.

I blinked at the ceiling, trying to convince myself I was okay.

I wasn't.

The apartment was still. Too still. Outside, the city moved on like nothing had happened. The familiar hum of traffic, a siren in the distance, a dog barking three floors down. All normal.

Except nothing felt normal.

My phone buzzed again, face down on the nightstand. It had been doing that since I landed yesterday. I didn't check it. I already knew who it was.

Darien.

And Darien.

And... Darien.

Twenty-two missed calls. Even more texts. I could practically hear her voice in every bubble: "Beau, please just answer. Are you okay? I'm worried."

I wasn't mad at her.

But I couldn't talk to her either. Not yet. Not without seeing their faces flash in my mind.

Nes.

Colson.

I sat up slowly, hands gripping the edge of the mattress. My legs were heavy. My throat dry. The city outside my window didn't care that I hadn't eaten since... when?

And worse — I didn't care either.

I was supposed to go in today. My calendar was full of deadlines, reminders, even a note to myself that said "smile more during pitch meetings."

I deleted it.

I wasn't ready to see anyone. Especially not my team. Not the stylists, not the photographers, not the assistants who whispered about the Harry Styles girl with a mix of admiration and envy.

I couldn't even look at myself.

Not without wondering what they'd see.

Did I look different now? Was there something on my skin — some stain that marked what happened?

I ran my hands over my face, then over my arms. Nothing. But I still felt it.

Not from Colson. Or even Nes. But from me.

I let it happen. That thought had been gnawing at me like a parasite since I opened my eyes on that couch.

I knew something was off. I felt it when Nes said "safe." I felt it when she handed me that shot. When her smile was just a little too sweet. I knew.

But I stayed. And now I didn't know how to leave that night behind. My thumb hovered over Darien's name.

A message sat unsent:

"I'm fine."

Backspace.

"I'm sorry."

Backspace.

I sighed, staring at the blinking cursor. Then I typed:
Can we talk?

I stared at it. And then, finally, hit send.

__

The rain hadn't let up since dawn.

New York was grey and slow, the sky low enough to press against your chest.