Only Angel 2 [h.s] AU

Bloodlines & backdoors

Harry's POV
Seattle.

Every morning, like clockwork, Beau's texts came in while I was asleep — always around 7 a.m. her time. Which meant 5 a.m. here.

When I opened my eyes today, hers was already waiting.

Beau
Morning, stranger.

No emoji. No exclamation point. Just five syllables that somehow made my chest tighten. I stared at the screen for a while before flipping it facedown and tossing it on the nightstand.

The light outside was cold and gray, same as always. Seattle never tried to pretend it was anything else. I could appreciate that. At least one of us wasn't faking it.

I sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on my knees, trying to breathe past the hollow that had taken up space inside me.

It'd been three days since she left. Three days of stiff conversation and half-meant sentences over text. We were pretending to be civil, pretending like nothing happened. Like I hadn't nearly gone insane in that club.

I threw on my running shoes and headed out. The air bit at my skin, sharp and wet — the kind of weather that cleared your head if you ran fast enough.

I didn't answer her text.

__

The first thing I noticed when I stepped into the penthouse was the smell.

Stale whiskey. Burnt weed. And whatever the hell Elija puked up on the kitchen tile.

"Christ..."

He was on the floor — not even the couch — curled up in a hoodie that wasn't his, face pressed into the cold marble like he'd passed out mid-sentence. Which, knowing Elija, he probably had.

A half-smoked joint lay next to him, ash streaked across the white stone like charcoal sketches. One shoe on. One sock missing. A bottle of something dark knocked over near his hand.

I kicked the heel of his foot. Hard.

"Elija."

Another groan. Louder this time. He rolled onto his back and waved a lazy hand in the air like I was a fly buzzing around his head. He didn't reply. Just pulled the hoodie over his face and turned away.

Typical. He never brought people over — one rule he actually followed — but that didn't mean he brought anything good with him either. Wherever he went, mess followed. Sometimes I wondered if that was the only reason he kept coming back — he knew I'd clean it up.

I left him there. Locked the door behind me with a little more force than necessary.

Let him sleep in his own fucking disaster.

__

The weight room was nearly empty. Just the sound of metal clanking, my breathing, and the dull throb of the music in my earbuds.

I'd already been here for an hour, and I still wasn't tired. Not really.

Since she left, I'd gotten obsessive. Morning runs before the sun came up. Extended lifts after work. Anything that left me sore and distracted.

I pressed through another set, arms shaking, sweat dripping from my skin like penance. Every time I exhaled, I heard her. Not her voice — her whimpers.That night was carved into my memory.

I'd never heard her sound like that. Fragile. Frightened. Stripped of every ounce of control.

She hadn't even been fully conscious, but her body had known. Her body had cried before her eyes could. And Colson— No.