𝐇𝐚𝐳𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥; 𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬.

𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐃𝐮𝐬𝐭.

Trigger Warning: Overdose, Severe Mental Problems.

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He got sick of being constantly mistreated by everyone, and taking everyone's bullsh*t. Valentino included. Nothing was helping him to cope. Not even his pills. Everyone's words were getting to him, not having the slightest motivation to continue on with living at the hotel, and to work. He was severely ill. Mentally ill, to add in. He just wanted you, but you were always busy and barely had enough time for him. He always made time for YOU. Why couldn't you do the same? He was overthinking every little thing each second of the day.

He gripped on to his sides out of frustration, his head lowering as he sobbed. The pain was too much for him to handle. He took too many pills within the spare time he had in his room. It was about past midnight; nearly everyone was asleep or either busy. But you? You were making your way to Angel's room to apologise for the lack of attention you've been giving him. Little did you know he wasn't himself at all.

You knocked on Angel's door. No answer. You reached for the doorknob, turning it slightly to see whether it was locked or not. To your result, it was unlocked. You peeked your head through the gap, looking to see where he was to be. You then saw him on the bed, but he didn't look too good from where you were standing.

"Angel..?" You came in, leaving the door open by the tiniest bit of space, raising an eyebrow at his sudden state. He was shaking. Shaking a lot. His cheeks were covered and wet from all the tears. You couldn't help but to feel guilty, a thought sticking by you as this was to be your fault. "Angel, I'm so sor-" A loud noise was heard right next to you, pieces of glass shattering everywhere, piercing through your skin by the slightest. Your eyes widened, realising the cause Angel made. A large lump began to form on the inside of your throat, making it hard to breathe and to form any words to him. Then your attention went to the floor, seeing pills scattered everywhere, even empty bottles. You knew something was wrong, but you couldn't intrude on his privacy, and if you were to, right now isn't the time.

You left the room.

Angel was on the edge of the bed, on the verge of sobbing again after his mistake. He never meant to. He didn't want that to happen! Out of all the beings in hell, it had to be you that he hurt the most. He loves you. He loves you so much that it scares him by the tremendous overwhelming feeling. He was so conflicted with himself, the lack of empathy for his own emotions. "I'm sorry, Y/N." He cried out, running a hand through his hair, leaning and shifting to be on the bed fully. He then began to grip on to it, sobbing violently as he memorised your horrified expression. "I'm so f**king sorry!" He then started to sob.
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