⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ HuskerDust One-Shots and Drabbles ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

Oh, To Be Loved Like That

Genre: angsty drabble (not huskerdust)

Word count: 558
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Angel watched as Charlie anxiously picked through dresses in her closet. It was her and Vaggies anniversary and they were going out, and Charlie wanted to look her best.

"Black or red?!"

"Black, it's more sexy. Gonna make her want to ravish you after."

Angel teased, winking at her. Charlie blushed, but hung the red dress back up. Angel sat her down, dusting her cheeks with blush, her lips tinted with red lipstick, and a subtle smokey eye. Angel showed her the mirror.

"Ta-da! Ya look stunning."

Charlie nodded, but looked nervous.

"What if it's too much? What if she hates it or thinks I'm typing too hard... what if she leaves me?! Weve been together for so long I-"

Charlie's eyes got teary at the thought. Angel rolled his eyes, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"Charlie, relax. It's just a date! You've been on plenty before! Besides, Vaggies down bad for ya, I wouldn't worry! Now cmon, don't cry off the makeup I just did."

She nodded and blinked away tears, and Angel helped her finish getting ready. When she came downstairs, Vaggie immediately complimented Charlie, made her feel good about herself as they left. She always did. Angel waved, watching them leave, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy and envy that shot through him. Part of him, a part he tried so hard to push away hated how their relationship worked so well. How they could communicate through problems, how they gave each other little gifts, or cuddled on the couch after long days or on movie nights. How they shared quiet kisses, and intimate moments only shared between the two. No cameras, no audience. How Vaggie held Charlie's hand when Charlie was anxious, or how Charlie hugged Vaggie when she finally breaks down. That was love.

He had never been loved, at least, not like that. On earth he was a mob kid, born into the mafia. Being gay wasn't accepted during his time, and coming out made him wish he never did. He never had a real relationship, and he died before he had the chance.

In hell, he found Valentino. He let Valentino lead him out of the street, bring him home and guarantee his safety. He thought that was love. The gifts, the care, the sex that felt real, the attention. But it was all superficial, as soon as his name was on the contract, that love faded away, replaced with a power trip and decades of abuse.

Valentino reminded him that nobody else would want him, how the chains were the only things keeping them together. He was ran through, every man in hell had been inside him, or watched him in every vulnerable position. Nobody wanted a whore.

He watched Vaggie and Charlie walk away, wishing that were him. Wishing someone would give him a chance like that, that someone saw him as more than just a body.

But that would never happen.

Maybe that's what he deserved.

He turned away with a heavy heart, going to his room instead. He laid on his bed, hugging one of the many pillows, stroking Fat Nuggets fur. Tears fell and stained his fur, his mascara creating black lines across his cheeks.

Oh, how he wished he could be loved like that.