Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He hasn’t quite sorted out everything, but he had sorted out enough. His anger and his resentment, in both of his situations, blinded him and caused him to hurt those who did not deserve such fate. People grow, change, and improve, and not just humans. This now includes him.

Killer—no—Armaros was surprised at how long he slept. He had slept for God knows how long until now, the clock on his nightstand shining the bright digits of 8:12 PM. Armaros sat up in his bed after he had jolted up earlier during his surprise. He recalled having a—

Well, he didn’t know if he should call it a nightmare or a dream. On one hand, Armaros was forced by Heaven to work with the guy he hated to ‘fix’  his mistake but earned a truce, and on the other, he was finally named. It wasn’t in the way he expected, but he remembered feeling so sad yet so light as if a weight had finally come off his shoulders. Armaros looked at the floor next to his bed after hearing a soft sweeping sound, finding a letter that had fallen from his sheets. He groggily leaned over, dipping towards the floor to pick up the slightly crumpled paper. He felt a wave of emotions flooded him as he read through it again, tears of relief coming up to prick his eyes again. It wasn’t a dream after all, and the Lord finally named him.

Armaros sighed, rubbing his eyes, and placing the letter aside. He picked up his cell phone and choked back a gasp; it was Thursday. Wait… Wasn’t this letter addressed on a Thursday too? It then dawned on the angel for long he’d been out. Gross, he thought to himself. He hadn’t showered, brushed his teeth, preened his wings, or anything for a week! How was even alive? The fallen angel felt his stomach rumble loudly. “Ugh… crap,” he muttered to himself before swinging his legs over the blankets. He could already feel the week-long consequences of being asleep the moment he touched the floor, a wave of many things crashing over him all at once. He’s had longer energy failures before, but this? This made him feel icky all over.

Grumbling, Armaros had somehow managed to drag his ass to the bathroom to start his usual routine which now had to be extended to match how shitty he looked and felt. It took him a while to be pleased with his appearance, his body now wrapped with a binder to conceal his wings better as he tossed on something simple yet put-together. It consisted of dark-washed jeans, a plain pale blue T-shirt with a dead emoticon, a brown coat and boots, black fingerless gloves, a red hat with a feather on it, and a pair of round gold-framed glasses. His usual look. 

Armaros made sure that his halo was completely hidden under his beanie before stepping in front of the mirror to look at himself. His eyes widened in satisfaction at his now tidy-looking appearance. Gulping, he looked back at the letter on his bed and sighed in determination.

This was just his first step—not as a nameless angel—but as Armaros. And he was going to make these new steps count.

The city lights blinded Armaros's eyes the moment he stepped out of his apartment building, one of the next consequences of not being exposed to such brightness. His boots clicked softly against the sidewalk, his steps lighter than ever before. As Armaros strolled through the city, he let out a sigh of relief, the familiarity of the streets, stores, and cafes, sending a wave of pleasure over him. He smiled to himself, taking in the bright life around him. The air was filled with a mix of scents—the aroma of street food, the bitterness of coffee, and the occasional whiff of exhaust from passing cars. His first destination was a quaint little café where he became a regular. The bell above the door chimed as he entered, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped him. Armaros ordered a black coffee and a slice of cheesecake to go, wanting to wander out a little more.

The streets were alive with activity, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of liberation as he blended into the crowd. He was now the angel who will walk in human footsteps as Heaven’s hand on Earth despite never being able to return, recalling the letter that named him. Armaros continued to walk aimlessly around the streets, his cheesecake and coffee in hand, taking sips of his drink every now and then. He hummed, his eyes glancing at a large billboard which held a poster of a new movie coming out.

It had a photo of two males on the screen, one upside down, and the other right side up, both with annoyed expressions as they looked at each other.  They held a gun to each other’s heads. It seemed like an action-comedy movie. Armaros was sure to watch that when he had the time. He continued to walk, now passing by a street player at the local park—the player was a young woman on the flute. Without a second doubt, he joined the crowd that surrounded her and listened until the end of her routine. Armaros clapped lightly, a faint smile on his face before tossing a 10-dollar bill into her open case.

He then fled to his next unknown and unplanned destination: Pebble Beach. Though, he didn't go down to the shores as he wasn't stupid enough to balance himself on potentially slippery rock with his hands occupied. The sea matched the sky’s perfectly dark blue hue, the soft white glow of the moonlight over the horizon just blooming over the surface. Now that Armaros thought about it, if the sky’s hue was only brighter, the colour of the water would have matched—

Wait. What?

Armaros blinked, furrowing his brows. Why was he thinking about him , of all people? The guy he killed and tried to kill again after his resurrection, failing might he add, and then had to help him which got him his name? If the sky’s hue was only brighter, the colour of the water would’ve matched BB’s hair— that was the thought Armaros was subconsciously making. BB? He must be still feeling the effects of that sock to the face he got last week!

Armaros shook his head, trying to dispel the unexpected thoughts. He decided to divert his attention and find a quiet spot to enjoy his coffee and cheesecake. He managed to wander out to John Street Park and found a quiet spot on the grass, facing the East River. Not many people were out by the area, or if they were, they were all far away from Armaros enough so that they wouldn't even notice his existence, and he didn't mind that. In fact, he'd prefer that.

The night was calm, the gentle breeze carrying the scent of saltwater. Armaros took a sip of his coffee, savouring the bitterness. His mind began to wander again, this time reflecting on the peculiar truce he had with BB. It was an uneasy alliance, born out of necessity and circumstance. Armaros couldn't deny the complexity of his emotions toward BB, a mix of resentment, regret, and an unexpected acknowledgment of shared humanity, which also included just the smallest hint of fondness that he hated to admit.

He unboxed his slice of cheesecake—crown apple caramel crumble to be precise—and plunged a fork into it, taking a swift bite. The sweet, tangy flavours danced on Armaros’s tongue, the bitterness of his previous sip of coffee creating a tasty contrast that he loved. He continued to ponder as he ate; he wondered what BB had been up to for the past week during his impromptu act of being Sleeping Beauty.

If Armaros was being honest, he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer. He and BB had their truce and went their separate ways now, and BB, despite saying that he would hope to cross paths again with Armaros right before their parting, nevertheless, still stated that he hopes he doesn’t have to run into him again. 

Armaros was on the boat for that one too. He hoped he didn’t have to run into BB again— BB and his annoying face, his stupid-looking blue hair, and his obnoxious personality, all of it! Armaros huffed, bending his left closer to his leg as he sat and took another bite of his cheesecake, feeling a little irritated now. Why in the world was he even thinking about BB? Despite that truce, he hated BB, and BB hated him. Besides, it wasn’t like BB was going to forgive him for anything at this point in time, probably not ever.

It was as if the world longed to mock him for his useless efforts, and Armaros didn’t blame the Heavens for it. What Armaros had done was unforgivable. He frowned.

“To be able to say that to me— it shows you’ve grown. I would like to keep our distance, but... Keep it up.”

Armaros stopped himself for a moment, hearing BB’s voice echo in his head. He called him a good man before he responded this way. He looked up at the sky with confused eyes. “I still don’t understand. What else are you trying to teach me?” asked Armaros aloud but quietly, hoping he could get an answer from his home. He gulped, sighing and looking down. “Do you think he’ll ever forgive me? I mean, look at what happened last week— it was a mess! I broke into his house, got socked in the face, got possessed, and yes, I finally got named, and I’m ever-so-grateful, but I still feel— unfulfilled.”

The fallen angel looked up at the sky again, his chest twisting with guilt. “Why do I feel so bad when Michael, my victim, acknowledged my will to change? Shouldn’t I feel a little happier upon hearing that? You heard him, I know you all did.”

Again, silence. Armaros scratched his head, taking a little nibble of his cheesecake. “I don't want to assume, but the implication shows he’s willing to forgive me if I tried hard enough. He said I still had a long way to go before he ever did, but nothing can atone for the death of a guy whose life I tore apart, even if it was an accident in the first place. I had an intention to kill someone, so—”

Armaros grumbled, picking at his bottom lip. He thought about another thing BB told him. “Looks like you got a little bit of good in you still. I hope it can have the chance to shine more.”

His shoulders tensed as he slowly cut up another bit of cheesecake. “Why would he say that? That I still have good in me, after all I’ve done? Surely, he's not saying that he has hope, even though it's obviously clear that he does and I'm just... having a hard time accepting that?"

The salty breeze ruffled the angel’s pale brown hair as it whispered around him. The moon shone the brightest through the star-studded sky, wishful thinking momentarily clouding his thoughts. Was it strange, selfish even, of him to wish— want— to have him and BB meet again under a brighter sky? He knew Heaven couldn’t answer all his questions, however, he couldn’t help but want one from them. That, he knew he could be selfish for.

The sound of the waves lapping against each other added to his bittersweet, yet serene surroundings. Armaros watched as a shooting star crossed the night sky, flickering atop his golden irises. He felt a little giggle bubble up to his lips at the Heavens’ little response to his questions. He remembered stargazing with his fellow lower-ranking unnamed angels back then, how they’d believe that a shooting star was not only a wish, but a tiny sliver of hope— a sign from the higher-ups.

 “Nice one, guys…” murmured Armaros. The fallen angel took his final bite of cheesecake before getting up to dump his things into a nearby garbage bin and going back to his walk. His boots dragged on the pavement as he dug his hands into his pockets, his eyes constantly flickering to anything that caught his eye. Armaros noticed the streets were almost empty now that it was much later in the night, the only sound coming from the occasional car passing by or the distant chatter of people coming from the pubs and bars. He waited at a nearby bus stop, aiming for a random location and not caring where he was going. When the bus came, he paid his fare and sat by an empty window seat at the back of the bus, the vehicle taking off with a hiss. The bus was slow but it was moving forward, the soft city lights travelling across his face and for the first time in a while, he felt at peace.

After a while, he got off and wandered into a quieter part of town, the area where most of the buildings acted as if they were in their own little world. This part of the city was filled mainly with cafes and bookstores, open parks and some residences. Armaros found his way into a large, back-open area through a dimly lit alleyway, a few crates and scrap here and there, and boarded up walls, alongside some old rusty lamps hanging on hooks on the walls.

Armaros grunted softly as he perched himself on a large wooden crate, digging out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from his pockets. He could sure use a break, that was for sure. The smoke curled lazily in the air as Armaros took a deep drag of his cigarette. “Ah...” he sighed as he exhaled a ghostly plume, feeling a little less tense. He lowered his head a bit, feeling a little tired, despite being asleep for the whole week.

His thoughts kept wandering about his existence and he felt fooled by his principles in a way. Armaros stared into the distance, the ember of his cigarette glowing, highlighting his pensive expression. The city sounds faded into the background as he delved deeper into his thoughts.

He still couldn't shake the guilt that lingered within him. The memories of his impulsive actions, the pain he caused, and the lives he disrupted haunted him. Armaros took another drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke with a heavy sigh. The anger that once fueled his every move had transformed into a more contemplative demeanour within himself. He pondered the significance of his newfound understanding of demons, recognizing the need for empathy and open-mindedness in a world that wasn't as black and white as he once believed.

Funnily enough, he wished he could blame the way how the sacred writings that the Lord's followers had made. If demons weren’t all inherently evil, why perceive them as just that? And what did that make Armaros if he was the bad guy of the story? 

The taste of tobacco began to stain his tongue before suddenly, he felt something shift in the air. He exhaled a plume, turning his head ever-so-slightly towards the boarded-up wall that was a few feet away from his spot. Armaros’ eyes narrowed, the cigarette resting between his fingers as he cautiously hopped off the crate he was sitting on, gulping. His brows knitted together as he walked around the space cautiously, his nerves tingling. Something was here.

L̸̢̞̺̦̗̮͓̺̾́́̔ô̸̞̪͙̞͂͂̿̾͐̏̕͝͝o̸̢̡̳̩̩͇̹̣̤̻̮̬͆̅̑͆̈̏̈̏͠͠k̴̨̦͈̠̼̎̀̎́̇̌̅̃̅̉̉̇̚ ̶̲͚̣̻̘̱͙͍̩͎̆̄̄̅͊̍̔̆͒̔̊̏̐̾̈́͜o̸̭͍͗͑̓̇̕ȗ̶̪̭t̴̛͕̼̎̀̚.̸̖̟̫͇͓͓̯̫̰̯̈́̐̐́͌̈́͐́̈͒̈̋̉́.̸̩̜̞̳͈̯̜̥̘̖̻̗̓̔̆̈̀͆̊̇̔͛́́̈͆̕.̴̮̭̝̝̉͗̉̈́̓. Huh? L̸̢̞̺̦̗̮͓̺̾́́̔ô̸̞̪͙̞͂͂̿̾͐̏̕͝͝o̸̢̡̳̩̩͇̹̣̤̻̮̬͆̅̑͆̈̏̈̏͠͠k̴̨̦͈̠̼̎̀̎́̇̌̅̃̅̉̉̇̚ ̶̲͚̣̻̘̱͙͍̩͎̆̄̄̅͊̍̔̆͒̔̊̏̐̾̈́͜o̸̭͍͗͑̓̇̕ȗ̶̪̭t̴̛͕̼̎̀̚.̸̖̟̫͇͓͓̯̫̰̯̈́̐̐́͌̈́͐́̈͒̈̋̉́.̸̩̜̞̳͈̯̜̥̘̖̻̗̓̔̆̈̀͆̊̇̔͛́́̈͆̕.̴̮̭̝̝̉͗̉̈́̓ Wait, what’s going on? LOOK OUT!

Armaros was barely able to register the voice in his head, turning his head slightly to the boarded-up wall behind him before—BOOM!—he had to leap out of the way, for the  walls had exploded. “WOAH—!” gasped Armaros, ducking through the shattered debris and wood and tumbling behind another stack of open crates. He dropped his cigarette, the small stick hissing upon contact with the floor. All the lights went out due to the small explosion, causing it to go black. Armaros’s lungs heaved as he tried to reach for the firearm that he always kept on him, however, it wasn’t in its holster as it should have been.

“Shit…” whispered Armaros. He probably left it in his drawer at home. The sound of the crashing debris was mixed with the heavy echoes of footsteps and grunts. “Why won’t you quit?” shouted a deep voice, angrily. It was an unknown voice that Armaros had never heard of before.

He sat up, looking through the leftover smoke for the unknown figure until another voice spoke up. “Look, dude, I’m just tryna do my job,” said the other, a little nonchalant-like with their tone. Armaros’ eyes widened.

Just briefly in the dark, he caught a glimpse of a silhouette with glowing white eyes, glaring eerily at his supposed prey. He could recognize that shadow, voice, and eyes anywhere— BB.

The fallen angel held his breath as he listened to their conversation. “You really are a thorn in my side,” snarled the criminal. “Yeah? That probably was from my bat, not me,” corrected BB, tapping his spiked weapon on the grimy floor. “...What’s wrong with your eyes? You look like a freak!” retorted the criminal, growling, not really having any comeback up his sleeve.

BB seemed to visibly tense at that question, slammed his bat hard on the floor as he glared at his target with icy eyes that seemed to send shivers down Armaros’ spine, despite it not being directed at him. “That’s not your business, pal,” he sneered, now putting on some brass knuckles, “Anyhow, I gotta turn you in to the police so I can get paid. The bills are comin’ in real hot, so be a nice guy, will ya'?"

“Awh~ Did I hit a sensitive spot?” taunted the criminal before throwing a knife at BB. Luckily, BB threw himself out of the way and pounced on the criminal, his bat making swift thwacking sounds. So much for a peaceful smoke break. The shadows of the alley danced in the dim light as Armaros observed the chaotic scene unfolding before him. The scuffle echoed in the small space, the clinking of weapons and grunts of exertion mingling in the air. Armaros debated whether he should intervene or find an escape.

The sounds of something metal, most likely BB’s bat and maybe a metal pipe the criminal had found on the floor, rang through Armaros’ ears, giving him a bit of a headache. “Get back!” Armaros heard the criminal pant and growl. "Hmph," huffed BB.

The alleyway was completely dark, the only light present was the haunting white of the moonlight. Armaros dodged through the shadows and smoky air, clutching the sides of his coat. He could hear BB and the criminal exchange blows, shouts and rings echoing through the quiet night.

“I’ll fucking kill you!"

"Sure."

Armaros pounced to the floor behind a small pile of crates, feeling sweat run down the side of his head at the roaring voices a few feet away from him. He flinched at the sudden shout that he heard the criminal cry— most likely a sock to the jaw from BB. Armaros kind of felt bad for the criminal, as a ‘scrawny guy’ like BB, could pack a hefty punch. He patted his jaw where was socked last week, ironically feeling the criminal’s pain. Armaros could feel his wings twitch under his binder as he peaked behind a bit of stacked debris he had moved behind.

BB had the criminal in a headlock, the opposing fighter trying to escape him. "You're such a piece of work..." grumbled BB, trying to keep the criminal down. Armaros gulped, immediately jumping behind a larger stack of crates. 

He watched the faint shadows on the walls move violently as BB and the criminal scuffled around in the small open space. “Get off me, scum!” cried the criminal, his shadow showing Armaros that he had elbowed BB in the stomach. “Agh!” choked BB as he stumbled back. What happened next, Armaros was not prepared for. Suddenly, before he could register what was happening, he heard BB scream— CRASH.

“GAHHH—!” gasped BB, tumbling into a stack of crates— the stack of crates that Armaros was hiding behind.  Splinters flew everywhere, causing Armaros to wince in pain as he felt BB's weight crash on him atop the broken boards that had fallen on him. He was enveloped in a cloud of dust and debris, and he found it difficult to breathe as the weight of the crates pressed down on him. “Ugh–!” he yelped, shuddering at the press of the heavy weight on him. Armaros could hear BB growl as he slowly recovered from the collision, shifting on top of the boards as he glared at the criminal with a scowl. “Tch… Have it your way then,” he sneered before Armaros heard a small click.

Hisssss… Clink.

“Guh!” coughed the criminal, suddenly.

BB had pulled out a gas bomb from his pocket and tossed it at the criminal. Armaros watched in horror as the criminal fell to the ground, unconscious, as the gas bomb released a stream of white smoke, the soft breeze from the narrow alleyway entrance swirling the smoke around in the confined space. The fallen angel could hear BB sigh under his mask in satisfaction with his work, BB’s weight finally being shifted off his back. “Damn…” muttered BB, rolling his shoulders.

Armaros groaned quietly, gasping for clean air, but only for that to be a big mistake. Almost instantly, Armaros buckled back to the ground, his head pounding as if he had been hit with a bowling ball. Armaros grumbled to himself, pupils sharpening into thin slits. “You've— gotta be—” he choked.

His senses were overwhelmed, and his attempt to escape the wreckage felt like navigating through a fog of confusion. The distant wail of police sirens grew louder, a testament to BB's successful bounty hunt. He couldn’t register anything else that was going on.

He could see his hands shake as he used the very little strength he had to yank a large piece of wood to the side with a loud thunk and a grunt. He exhaled a heavy breath, his eyes failing to keep open for any longer. Armaros could hear echoes in his ears as the corners of his eyes started blackening. He exhaled a heavy breath, his eyes drooping. He felt his throat get dry and his breathing, laboured, the smoke of the gas bomb making it hard to breathe. The wind certainly didn’t help in clearing his lungs up.

Armaros could feel his body becoming numb, and he started to lose his sense of balance, his muscles disobeying his command when he wanted to move. He coughed violently, and just as he slipped away, suddenly—

“... Angel Freak—?!”

Chapter Text

“...Angel Freak—?! Fucken— how did you— Let’s— outta—!”

.

.

.

...

...?

...?!

...!!!

Armaros gasped, sitting up, and then immediately groaning as the pain in his head returned. He rubbed his temples irritatingly. He could feel the star in his chest jolt from the sudden self-shock, and a sharp pain in his leg making itself known.

He groggily looked down at himself, a bright neon blanket draped over him, and then his eyes wandered to the dark green couch he was lying on, the gaming console by the TV, some scattered cat toys on the floor, and the posters on the wall.  He rubbed his eyes, looking around confusedly, a familiar interior surrounding him.  He was in BB’s apartment. Armaros’s slitted-pupil eyes widened, flinching. How did he get here? Wasn’t he just wandering outside last night? He just enjoying a smoke break in that alleyway before—...Oh.

Armaros’s memory was fragmented as he tried to collect bits and pieces of what the fuck happened before he somehow ended up in BB’s apartment. He remembered only a few things, such as an explosion and a fight, but he didn’t want to think of anything at the moment. This was not how he thought he would be spending his first day of the week.

Armaros turned his attention back to his leg, the sharp throb causing him to grumble. He threw the blanket off of himself, rolling up the sleeve of his right leg to reveal a neatly bandaged limb. There were a few bloody stains on the side of it, indicating a deep gash from something that Armaros didn’t remember feeling at all. Perhaps it was from the couple of crates that toppled over him, including the extra weight of BB’s body along with it.

The fallen angel slouched, scratching his head with a contemplative frown. Armaros was a bit taken aback by the sudden hospitality. After all, BB had made it clear that he still held a bit of a grudge against Armaros for what he did.

He couldn't help but think BB was only being considerate out of pity, and he scoffed at the thought. It was probably just basic human decency! He was sure that BB was only bringing him back to his apartment to be nice and had no intention of mending anything. “What a joke,” mocked Armaros, muttering to himself and rolling his eyes. He ran a hand over his face as he inhaled a sharp breath, his headache still pounding slightly at the back of his head.

Sighing, he swung his legs over the couch, his feet finding purchase on the floor. Armaros winced as he stood up, the soreness in his body making itself more apparent, stretching his lower back and hearing it crack with relief. The sunlight seeped through the blinds, illuminating the pieces of furniture in the room and warming their spots. Armaros couldn't help but feel a sense of peacefulness in the air, despite the events that had happened the night before. However, it was rare to find BB's apartment in such silence, given how lively he usually was. He found himself limping around, admiring the decorations and furniture, and how well-kept it all looked, despite all the random stickers on the lamps, muted yet vibrant-coloured bases, and... a stoplight? Why and how did BB even get a stoplight inside his apartment? Armaros wasn't going to question it; it was a decent decoration, he supposed.

He continued to roam through the apartment, Armaros unable to help but notice the subtle details that hinted at BB's personality. A stray guitar pick lay on the round, coffee table and a stack of comic books were neatly arranged on a drawer behind the couch. From what he could make of it, it seemed that underneath BB’s bitter attitude towards him, was a bubbly guy who genuinely loved going out and having fun. He couldn't help but be impressed. He noted the eclectic mix of posters on the walls—bands, movies, and what seemed like random doodles.

Armaros then turned to enter the eat-in kitchen and the decoration here was quite minimal, unlike BB's living room, yet the lighting behind the cabinets gave it some personality, to say the least. Armaros's gaze fell on the circular table—more like a circular counter that took the place of a table—where a note and a neatly folded set of clothes awaited his attention. Seeing this, concluded that BB wasn’t home at the moment. Armaros reached for the note, unfolding it with a mix of curiosity and wariness.

The words were scrawled hastily and somehow still neatly written, the handwriting revealing a sense of urgency:

"Birdbrain,

I don’t know how the hell you got tangled up in that mess last night, but you’re here now. That gash on your leg? Yeah, that’s gonna take a few days until you’re able to walk properly without risking reopening the damn wound. It’s probably really sore. Help yourself in the shower, and don’t touch my stuff.

-M. Silvers"

Armaros had an undiscernible expression on his face as he rolled his eyes. Armaros crumpled the note and tossed it onto the countertop. "Birdbrain," he muttered under his breath, a scowl forming on his face. The nickname was a classic BB move, and despite the circumstances, Armaros honestly could not blame BB for it.

He examined the clothes— a simple sweatshirt, baggy sweats, and a pair of spare boxers and socks. Armaros sighed, his fingers running over the fabric of the clothes and they seemed relatively thin in material which was good for him. He shook his head, muttering to himself about the absurdity of the situation. A part of him felt a twinge of gratitude for BB's unexpected hospitality, even if it came with a healthy dose of sarcasm and a rather unfriendly nickname.

With a hint of reluctance, Armaros limped towards the bathroom, navigating the familiar yet unfamiliar territory of BB's apartment. It was a stark contrast to Armaros' usual surroundings, which were more cozy, a little industrial, and somewhat cleaner. When he managed to step into the shower, he relaxed under the cold water that soothed his body. The water cooled the tingling sensations on his burn scars and was a refreshing contrast to the ache in his head and the throb in his leg.

He grabbed onto the side of the wall for support, feeling the water start to weigh down his wing, the feathers dripping away the grime and dirt from last night. Armaros grumbled, running a hand through his soggy pale brown hair.

He couldn't help but feel a sense of injustice as he thought about his circumstances—he had done nothing wrong and yet here he was, in a familiarly unfamiliar place, with BB’s intentions he didn't know. He felt powerless and frustrated, and a deep sense of frustration washed over him as he contemplated his current situation. Armaros sighed, now taking the liberty of grabbing some shampoo.

He quickly lathered up with the shampoo, washing away the sweat and dirt from the previous night. His back burned as the soap stung the outer edges of his burn scars, and he gritted his teeth in pain. He let the water run over him before he shut off the faucet. He stepped out of the shower, wrapped himself in a towel, and glared at his reflection in the mirror for a moment. He had matching scars on his eyes, and this was the first time he'd ever have them out around someone else. At least fully; the ones on his eyelids were always covered with foundation and concealer. Armaros sighed as he grabbed another towel and swiped around his body, eying the clothes he placed on the counter.

The clothes BB provided for him were just a smidge bigger than him, which was quite fine for him. After all, he needed constant ventilation for his scars.

Armaros groaned as he held his heavy wing with the towel, patting it to absorb most of the moisture. He rolled his eyes in annoyance, dragging the fabric in between the folds of his feathers and mumbling things. He really hated this situation. He didn’t want to be in BB’s apartment, he didn’t want to be wearing his clothes, he didn’t want any of this!

“Great. Fan-fucking-tastic. Just what I needed to start the week, Michael. Haha...! ” muttered Armaros under his breath, brows twitching and a wry smile spreading upon his face. “Honestly, what the hell did I do this time? I just wanted a nice smoke break.”

Armaros spoke to the air again like he did last night. His fellow angel must be playing pranks on him again. “Seriously!” he shouted, now grumbling more and walking out of the bathroom. He'd even shoot irritated glances at random things in his path as if blaming the furniture for his current predicament. Armaros, found himself pacing around the living room with a distinct air of disgruntlement. His grumblings persisted as he continued to mutter under his breath, an ongoing commentary on his less-than-ideal situation. A self-rambling session, if you will.

With each step, his wing, heavy with waterlogged feathers, dragged behind him, adding an extra layer of irritation to his mood. He roughly swiped the towel through his wings as he limped around.

The fallen angel couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort, both physical and emotional. As he moved about the apartment, he spoke to the empty air, his words carrying a mix of frustration and sarcasm. It was as if he sought solace or understanding from the celestial beings he once knew, even though the heavens remained silent.

"Great company you all are," he quipped, rolling his eyes skyward and throwing the towel onto the table next to the crumbled letter. He marched out of the kitchen. "Would it kill you to offer some guidance, or at least a decent weather forecast? No? Fine, be that way."

His mind turned back to BB again. “ Birdbrain , huh? That's rich comin' from a filthy mortal like yourself,” snarled Armaros. He stood there for a moment, taking a deep breath to collect himself, despite the urge to want to ramble more, and exhaling sharply. Silence reached his ears, his ramblings dissipating into the air like a forlorn wish being carried away by a shooting star. Armaros scratched the side of his hair, his damp strands cold against his skin.

As the seconds passed, a fragile calm settled over him, but at least he felt a little better now. He stood in the center of the living room, his head down and heavy with distaste. He took a deep breath, attempting to regain composure. The room around him held the residue of his frustration, but he couldn't deny a sense of embarrassment creeping in as he replayed the scene in his mind. He bit his lip, shifting weight from one leg to the other.  He closed his eyes and tried to push away the wave of emotions that threatened to consume him, slowly walking to the fridge to grab himself whatever BB had to drink in there. He saw some apple juice boxes; not a bad choice. He grabbed one and quickly started sipping away, thinking a bit. Maybe staying with BB wouldn’t be so bad, right? What could possibly go wrong if all he had to do was keep himself in line?

Everything's fine...

Everything's fine...

Fine, fine, fine...

Or not.

Just as Armaros closed the fridge door and moved away to throw away his now empty box,—Tug!. Armaros could feel his frustration bubble up again, sighing through his teeth. He flapped his wing that was caught in the door, which ended up opening it again and revealing that his feathers were stuck on something sticky. You've gotta be kidding him—he just showered too. "Oh, come on!" growled Armaros. The fallen tugged his wing gently, trying to pull it free from the sticky spot without losing any feathers. It felt like his patience was running out faster than the cold air seeping from the open fridge. He craned his neck to inspect the situation more closely, but his awkward angle only made it harder to see. He grumbled to himself, casting glances around the kitchen. Nothing nearby could help—not a knife, not a spatula, not even a spoon! All he had was a wing that was now thoroughly entangled, and he wasn’t about to lose a feather to some rogue patch of... was it... honey? Or maybe some kind of jam? BB certainly had an interesting taste in condiments if this was the sort of thing lying in wait for unsuspecting wings. “Michael,” he muttered, barely containing his irritation. "I swear, I'm going to make you eat my feathers if they get torn off."

With a resigned sigh, he attempted to ease his wing free, trying not to tug too hard. But the sticky substance only seemed to cling tighter. His patience wore thin as he gritted his teeth, deciding that maybe a little more force would do the trick. One, two, three—

YANK!

"ACK—!" yelped Armaros. The fridge door swung open, and his wing came free, but with a force that sent him tumbling forward, crashing onto the table and chairs, then to the ground with a resounding smack as he dropped the juice box a few feet away. Pain pulsed through his arms and knees as he sprawled awkwardly across the floor, momentarily stunned. Armaros huffed out a small whine, his wing splayed out behind him like the world’s most defeated bird. He was definitely going to give BB a piece of his mind for not bothering to make his place wing-proof if it was the last thing his pride would let him do!

Suddenly, creeeak...

Armaros looked up, his irritation pausing as he blinked; BB had just got home, standing there with one hand on the doorknob and one holding a pet carrier. The sudden entrance caught both boys off guard, freezing them in a moment of shared surprise. BB stared at him with wide eyes.

This was awkward.

Armaros couldn't help but feel a flush of embarrassment at the timing. He attempted to regain his composure, sitting himself up from the floor with a grace that contradicted his recent tumble. He glanced at BB, who continued to observe him with a raised eyebrow and an unreadable expression. He closed the door behind him and fully stepped into the apartment to get a better look. "Uh, hi?" muttered Armaros, reaching for the empty juice box he drank and attempting to break the awkward silence. BB's response was a quizzical look as if questioning the entire situation.  He seemed to still be processing the unexpected scene before him. Armaros couldn't tell if BB was looking at his face with his unsightly scars or just him in general. Finally, BB spoke. “What are you doin' down there?” he asked, sighing. Despite feeling a bit of relief at that answer, Armaros shot BB a sharp glare.

“I fell over,” he replied, looking around him before looking up at the human. BB shrugged his shoulders, his brows knitting further while he placed the carrier on the ground. He folded his arms.

“What’cha fell over for?”
“I didn’t do it on purpose!”

As Armaros stood, he brushed imaginary dust off his borrowed clothes, attempting to salvage some semblance of dignity. He cleared his throat, trying to find words that would dissolve the tension. “I just lost balance,” frowned Armaros as he threw his garbage away. “Twice,” interjected BB, leaning against one of the kitchen chairs. “If you count last night, that is.”

Right.

Armaros scowled at the reminder. "Yeah, yeah, twice. Lucky me ," he retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. BB watched the angel shift uncomfortably in front of him. The room was filled with subdued tension as Armaros and BB stood on opposite sides of the room. Armaros moved his weight from one foot to the other, a scowl barely concealed on his face. His eyes bore a mix of frustration and a steely determination to keep his temper in check.

"So, Birdbrain, how's the leg holdin' up?" inquired BB, his tone a careful balance between casual banter and lingering bitterness. Armaros clenched his jaw, a muscle twitching in his temple as he fought the urge to snap back. "Just peachy, thanks for askin'," he replied through gritted teeth, his gaze fixed on a random spot on the floor.

BB’s lips pressed into a half-smile, giving the fallen a once-over. "Glad to hear it. Wouldn't want my unexpected houseguest to be too comfortable," he quipped. Armaros merely grumbled, closing his eyes. “Call me whatever you want, Michael, but you’re not exactly a walk in the park either,” he sighed. He limped towards the couch and plopped his ass on the plush cushions. He avoided BB’s gaze as he brought his wing in front of him and started picking at his feathers before they got irritated from earlier's pull.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” said BB, rolling his eyes. The fallen scoffed—of course. Just because they were on a truce didn’t mean complete friendliness, did it? Armaros couldn’t tell if he was relieved or hurt by that, but nevertheless, he masked the feeling with a shrug. “Wasn’t expecting anythin’ else,” he hummed as he shook his head with an annoyed chuckle, too worn out by his predicament to care about what BB had to say about him. He stopped picking his feathers and gently swung his legs up, ignoring the pain in his right as he tried to get comfortable again.

Stunned, BB watched as Armaros slowly settled back on the couch, his gaze never once meeting BB's. He had expected the angel to put up more of a fight, but now it seemed like he had given up entirely. Sort of.

BB watched as Armaros adjusted himself on the couch and took a deep breath, pulling the neon blanket over his body with an unreadable expression.

He scratched his head, clearing his throat and feeling a bit uneasy. "Do you want somethin’ to eat? I know you probably haven’t eaten..." he offered, but Armaros shook his head. "I'm not hungry— thanks," he mumbled, not meeting BB's gaze. He rested his body against the soft and plush top of the couch, staring through the window, his back facing the blue-haired human. BB sighed before he bent over to put down the pet carrier and unlatched the door to release his little feline friend, Mew. He was a male tan tabby with bright amber eyes and a purple collar with a golden bell on it. “Go on, Mew,” he whispered, letting Mew out of confinement.

Mew stretched his body before looking up at BB with big eyes. He circled his legs. “Mrew?” he mewed quietly. BB exhaled a little laugh, picking him up and scratching him behind the ears. “Yeah, yeah, you lil' furball…” he hummed, kissing his feline on the head. He gently put him down and watched him prance around, pouncing on a nearby cat toy that was left on the floor. BB scratched his head and hesitantly glanced at the brooding angel on the couch.

He sighed. "So, uh, how long are you planning on stayin' here, Birdbrain?" asked BB, with genuine curiosity. Armaros grumbled, running a hand through his damp hair. "Stitches don’t heal overnight, and well... you brought me here. If you're planning to kick me out onto the streets with my injured leg, then the best you can do is give me a solid twenty-four hours," he replied, the bitterness in his voice evident.

BB raised an eyebrow, his expression thoughtful. "I never said I'd kick you out. Just wanted to know what I'm dealin' with here," he explained, his tone surprisingly neutral. Armaros shot him a sidelong glance, suspicion flickering in his eyes.

"Dealing with ? How hospitable of you to say," he snarled, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice.

BB pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, I didn't sign up for this. I had plans, you know? Plans that didn't involve nursing an injured angel back to health," he admitted, frustration evident in his words. Armaros sighed.

"Then you shouldn’t have brought me here. I'll make sure to leave as soon as my leg is done doing its thing," he retorted, sarcasm dripping from his words, and sinking into his arms. His temper was starting to flare up again with the way he tensed. “Just—... just leave me alone. Please?”

The blue-haired human flinched slightly at Armaros’s tone. There was a hint of something that BB didn’t like—something that made him feel almost upset for him. Perhaps he touched a nerve? Either way, BB rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders, trying to shake away the feeling that had started to creep up on him. He moved himself to the kitchen, craving a snack to keep his mind off of things. He remembered a recipe that his mom taught him that involved matcha and brownies, and he couldn't turn that down. Maybe that would do the trick.

Armaros could hear the soft ringing of metal bowls and the fridge and various cabinets opening and closing echo through the apartment. Since BB lived in one of the higher New York apartments on a corner of a street, he was able to get a good view of the city, both from the living room and BB's bedroom windows. The late afternoon sun drew closer to dusk with each passing second. It looked nice down below—the gentle hustle and bustle—a type of atmosphere that Armaros seemed to favour. The views showed an array of tall, medium, and small old-fashioned New York apartments lining the streets with the sun glinting off the windows and stone. He could even see a glimpse of the Brooklyn Bridge between two taller buildings in his view through BB's room, and the whole world outside was cloaked in a romantic haze, as if looking through peach-tinted glasses. It was almost similar to the view in his apartment's living room, but his view was a little more obscured since his building was smaller and it was what he could afford, yet the slight familiarity made him relax.

He let his gaze fall to his side when he noticed Mew jump up next to him, his large amber eyes looking at him with curiosity. “Mreow?” he cooed, tilting his head. Armaros averted his gaze awkwardly. “Ah—is there something you want?” he asked quietly, unsure of what to do with this odd confrontation with BB’s darling cat.

Mew blinked slowly before placing his furry front paws on Armaros’s leg, standing on him as he seemed to lean forward eagerly. He sniffed the air around Armaros, mewing softly. The fallen angel slowly imitated BB’s cat, tilting his head to the side as well. “Hmm,” hummed Armaros, hesitantly reaching a hand and gently scratching Mew's chin.

“Mrrrrew…” squeaked Mew, purring softly as his tail lazily swung side to side. Armaros’s eyes softened for a moment, his frustration slowly being taken away by BB’s pet. He watched as Mew melted onto his lap, his rough tongue proceeding to lick his hand as he continued to scratch him gently. Armaros continued to keep a contemplative look on his face, the gears in his head refusing to give him a rest.

He knew that the Heavens were just trying to teach him more things, and he was grateful for it, even if it was hard to accept. But, why in the most ridiculous way possible? Did his fellow angels think humbling him through humiliation would be the best? That would be funny if it were true. Armaros could almost imagine their laughs. Possibly, and if anybody were to see him fall on his ass without doing anything as he did earlier, surely someone would laugh.

Maybe there was something else he was missing, but he didn’t want to dwell on it. Armaros knew he just had to follow what he was told. Sooner or later, he’d figure out everything, just as that letter recited. Armaros pulled himself out of his reverie when Mew suddenly leapt off the couch, his gaze following his sleek cat body prancing toward the kitchen. Then it hit him—the tantalizing earthy sweetness in the air.

“Ah—no, Mew, you can’t have these,” said BB, his voice reaching Armaros’s ears. Armaros looked behind him, seeing Mew eagerly circle BB’s legs at the sight of freshly baked treats. There was something about the unfolding scene that felt oddly comforting to see. Armaros could feel his stomach start to churn for food, despite his initial rejection of BB’s offering. He frowned, turning his head away again and staring out the window.

He sighed quietly, closing his eyes as he pulled the neon blanket closer to him. He flopped his head in his arms, still questioning everything up to date. He watched as the birds flew by, their joyous chirping reminding him of his own happiness before this chaos ensued. His eyes sparkled briefly until he heard a pair of footsteps behind him.

“Mreeeeeow!” purred Mew, suddenly running up to Armaros and leaping into his lap. Armaros flinched, feeling the weight of the cat in his lap.

“Oh, gee... Mew already likes you, huh?” muttered BB in defeat, walking behind the couch and bending over to rest his elbows on the cushioning. He had a plate of matcha brownies in his hands.

Armaros rolled his eyes dramatically at BB's attempt at casual conversation, the slight distrust clear in his gaze as he side-eyed the brownies in BB's hands. BB offered the plate with a stretched arm, bringing it closer to Armaros. "C'mon, they ain’t poisoned or anythin'. I know you rejected my offer, but you look like you could use some sweetness in you," he remarked, crossing his arms with a challenging expression.

Armaros shot him a skeptical glare before relenting, his hand reluctantly reaching for a brownie. He inspected it for a moment as if expecting some hidden trap, before finally taking a bite. There was a layer of cheesecake on top, balancing the earthy and warm flavours in his mouth, and despite his best efforts to maintain a stoic demeanour as his pupils finally rounded out, a subtle expression of pleasure flickered across his face. BB spotted it though, raising a brow in silent amusement. “Good?” asked BB. Armaros nodded in response, tilting the little treat in his hands. He couldn’t deny that it was good.

BB then took back the plate, deciding to cut to the chase. He exhaled. "Alright then, Angel Freak, let's skip the small talk. What the fuck happened last night? I want answers," he demanded, his tone firm and uncompromising. Another nickname— fantastic.

Armaros kept the cheesecake brownie out of reach as he patted Mew in his lap. “Answers to what exactly? Last night’s freak show?” he sighed, sarcasm echoing in his tone. “Excuse you," frowned BB, brows knitting and snatching a brownie off the plate, “It’s called gettin' the job done.”

Armaros’s lips pressed into a thin line, biting back a scowl. "Well, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to get me done too," he retorted, taking another bite of the brownie as BB shot him an irritated glare.

“That sounds so wrong.”

“One, gross. Two, you asked.”

“...Fair enough.”

BB huffed, averting his eyes as he and Armaros fell into another awkward silence. Mew’s purring was the only thing breaking it as he nuzzled up to Armaros’s hand. Armaros nibbled his brownie, looking down at Mew as BB drummed his fingers on the couch's backrest.

Armaros then grumbled, shaking his head, and finally glancing over at the blue-haired human with surprisingly calm eyes. “Well, I suppose you do deserve to know  shit,” he began, finishing his food and scratching the back of his neck. BB hummed in acknowledgement, picking a loose thread in his hoodie. He felt a little more patient, now that he had gotten somewhere.

The fallen angel kept his eyes on Mew, letting his mouth run whatever it wanted to say. “I was dead tired after last week. Y’know when I came to do my task? I only woke up yesterday,” said Armaros, feeling a little embarrassed to admit he was asleep for an entire week.

“Who are you; Sleeping Beauty?” scoffed BB, however, feeling a little jealous but impressed that Armaros managed to sleep that long, “But then again, you did get possessed by that ghost. Must've drained a damn ton outta you.”

Armaros shrugged and ignored him. He continued, “I was walking around last night, finally got myself something to eat—cheesecake and a good ol’ coffee. It was great. I wanted to have a smoke break before I continued my walk, but your little friend came crashin’ in with you in tow, literally. Mind you, you almost broke my back when you fell on me with those crates and blacked me out with that hissy thing you threw. I'm surprised you didn't notice me.”

Armaros took another breath. “Anything else?” he added shortly. “Huh,” huffed BB, genuinely surprised. This was a first. For once, it was him who ruined Armaros’s peace, and not the other way around. One part of BB felt amused at how absurd the situation was, and the other was contemplating whether he should feel bad or not. “Nah, I got nothin’ else to add, if I'm being honest,” replied BB, sighing and reluctantly taking the angel’s word for it.

He watched Armaros reach over to grab another brownie from the plate. He took a bite and said nothing more. “Look,” began BB, “If you’re gonna be in my apartment for a little while, I need you to promise not to make things difficult for me, alright?”

He waited for Armaros to agree, oddly feeling a little awkward about imposing any rules on Armaros. He should know that Armaros would know better than to not hold any decency but just had to make sure. Armaros raised an eyebrow but nodded in agreement. “Okay,” he replied with a shrug. BB blinked. “So, you’re not offended?” he asked. “Why would I be? It's your house, and I have no space in my agenda to welcome another punch to the face,” said Armaros, half-joking. BB couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that statement. “You deserved it,” he scoffed.

Armaros took another bite of his brownie, feeling a little bit of hope. This shouldn’t be too difficult. Maybe his fellow angels were right yesterday. Armaros could totally pull this off if he just sat still and looked pretty. Maybe everything will be just fine after all!

Right?

Chapter Text

Day one in BB’s apartment.

It was off to an OK start. It was a quiet morning for Armaros as when he woke up earlier, BB wasn’t home yet again, leaving the apartment to him. He had already eaten, leaving a spare plate of food on the side and fed Mew on BB’s behalf— the least he could do while he was gone for God knows how long and for whatever reason. He found it odd catching himself wondering where the blue-haired freak was as he didn’t take a shift last night, judging by the boots laying by the door instead of sneakers. The fallen angel grunted as he sat on one of the tall kitchen chairs, Mew watching from below, and a first aid kit set next to him. A towel draped from his naked shoulders, his body half-wet from the remnants of his morning shower. He was wearing the same spares he had since he took the liberty of washing and drying them last night, the shirt next to him and the right side of his pants rolled up to reveal the stitchings on his leg.

Maintaining this nasty stitch was quite bothersome on Armaros’s part. He sighed, cleaning up the healing wound with a cotton ball with rubbing alcohol, his damp hair dragging over his eyes. If he was being honest, BB was great at stitches. The line of ointment-soaked bandages felt cool against his wound as he wrapped it around his leg frustratingly alongside a dry layer, and knotting it neatly at the top. Armaros dabbed his face with the towel and stretched, feeling his spine pop relaxingly.

“Mreow?” mewed Mew, his gaze from below piercing Armaros. His tail swung curiously on the floor as he watched Armaros throw the excess material into the First Aid kit. Armaros held back a yawn, glancing at Mew for a moment. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied rather softly, as if he understood what the feline was saying.

This was ridiculous.

He nearly laughed at himself for it and he scratched the top of his head. Armaros was used to having lonesome mornings by now, having spent a year and a couple of months without the company of his fellow angels in Heaven. However, there was this sense of oddity in the apartment, as if he preferred to see BB walk into the living room and start up some bitter jest with him. Not whatever this was. Armaros stared at his palms, his golden gaze washing over himself emptily as he sighed deeply. He pulled the right sleeve of his pants down as he got up and went to clean up his mess before he went to make a lavender coffee. He needed time to think—think more. All of this thinking made his head spin, not to mention all the thinking he did yesterday as well...

Sure, he promised to make it bearable, not only for himself, but also for BB, and he couldn’t help but to think the more he found himself in clutches with the human. 'Think' would probably be on Armaros's list of annoying words by now.

His brain followed his thoughts as he took out a bag of dark roast grounds from one of the cabinets. When will this end? Armaros doesn’t know. When will BB stop occupying his brain? Armaros doesn’t know. When will Heaven drop a real hint for him? Armaros doesn’t know. When will Armaros stop pouring coffee grounds into the portafilter? Armaros doesn’t— wait. “Fuck!” gasped Armaros, stopping his absentminded downpour that was overflowing onto the counter. He scrambled to gather the crumbs into a small black pile far from the ledge, a vein in his temple twitching as he exhaled frustratingly.

At least it wasn’t on the floor. It would have been harder to clean, or worse, Mew could have consumed it. He placed the ruined grounds in his hands and hobbled to place them in the garbage bin before he could finally start the coffee maker. He wiped the imaginary sweat from his forehead, watching the small machine whirred the black liquid into the mug he put underneath it. He hummed, moving to the fridge, and rummaging through it. He grumbled, recalling seeing some lavender syrup somewhere when he checked BB's kitchen. “Mrew?” cooed Mew, coming up behind him and circling his legs curiously. Armaros looked down, stepping out of Mew’s way as he continued his search for the syrup. “One second, Mew...” he muttered under his breath. He shoved a takeout container aside, pouting slightly when he still couldn’t find that syrup.

“Whatever,” sighed Armaros, reaching for a can of cream instead. It looks like he won’t be having lavender coffee today unless he asks BB where it was. Too bad he isn’t home. He could be in Narnia for all Armaros cared. Armaros closed the fridge door with a soft thud, the can of cream in hand, and made his way to the coffee maker. The rich aroma of coffee enveloped him as he retrieved the half-full mug, the warmth seeping through the ceramic into his hands.

Armaros sighed, setting the coffee mug down on the circular table and pouring a small helping of cream into the brew. He took a small sip, humming at the familiar creamy bitter taste he loved having every morning. The warmth of the dark brew lingered on his lips as he reached for the sweatshirt he left on the side. As Armaros slid his arms into the oversized sweatshirt, he couldn't help but notice Mew's persistent demands for attention. The sleek feline continued to circle his legs, his tail brushing against his ankles impatiently. “Mew!” squeaked Mew, propping his front paws up the angel’s leg. Armaros sighed.

“Alright, alright,” he mumbled with a small smile, bending down to scoop up Mew with his free arm and watching him nestle into the crook of his elbow. Armaros sipped his coffee for a moment in an attempt to really wake up before putting it down. He leaned against the counter, absentmindedly scratching Mew behind the ears, staring blankly into the air. It was too quiet, he thought, the only sounds being his sipping and the refrigerator’s hum— not even Mew made a noise as he hung in his arms. He audibly huffed at that.

The small box-shaped clock with cat ears on the table could only do so much to pass the time with its rhythmic ticking. It was still fresh and early, and Armaros didn’t need to glance at the clock to know what time it was from how warm the sun’s rays felt on his back. It wasn’t exactly hot, so it was just about a real morning as any other by now. Mew jumped from the angel’s arms upon hearing a small jingle of keys at the door, scurrying off to greet whoever was going to walk inside.

Armaros heard a slightly voiced sigh from the entrance, followed by heavy footsteps. He didn’t bother to turn his head to look, nonchalantly picking his mug from the side and sipping again. He frowned at his cup as if it did something to offend him and pouted slightly, staring at his cup. He groaned quietly, “Michael, where did you put the lavender syrup? And please organize your fridge better because it’s—”

 Armaros froze. He met BB’s ghostly eyes that were slightly wide as if he didn’t notice he was there. His hands were paused midair, frozen in the act of shedding his hood and headphones while Mew had busied himself by pawing at BB’s jeans. Armaros raised a brow at BB’s messy hair and the dark circles under his eyes. “The hell happened to you?” he asked with a tinge of concern painting his voice, leaning against the doorway. He must have made a face that rejected his tone because BB was now glaring at him coldly. They held a gaze before BB rolled his eyes and kicked off his sneaks. “Walk,” he muttered, tossing his keys onto a hook by the door.

He quickly came down to give his cat a little smooch before sighing and shaking his hair wildly. “You look like shit,” scoffed Armaros, taking a prolonged gulp. BB could only grunt in response. He peered into the kitchen and eyed the spare food that Armaros had set aside earlier—a turkey sandwich. He moved past Armaros and trudged to the counter to steal it while Mew had found a spot by the living room window to bathe in now that BB had company.

BB took a bite. He paused for a moment, eyeing the food with a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face. He huffed and went to prepare a mug of coffee for himself. Armaros turned around, his eyes following the human attentively as if comedically judging him. “Am I gonna get a thanks for the food? How about feeding Mew? No?” asked Armaros, a little bit of what seemed to be a chuckle. BB could sense a vein in his temple ready to pop as a crooked smile flashed on his face for a moment. He inhaled sharply before going back to collect his mug from the coffee maker. He didn’t bother to put anything in it, the potent bitter taste staining his tongue with irony. 

BB stared into the dark liquid as if expecting it to transform into something more palatable. His brow furrowed and he stuck out his tongue cringing slightly. The realization hit him like a delayed punch – he forgot the sugar. A minor detail that would have made his morning the slightest less unbearable. He drummed his fingers on the mug, eying it coldly until he finally looked up to find his gaze locking with Armaros again. BB slumped.

“What are you lookin’ at, you pigeon?” he snapped lightly, his gaze dodging around awkwardly and leaning against the opposite countertop. Armaros cocked an eyebrow as he took another sip, not breaking eye contact. He wrote down another nickname in his head. Where the hell did BB even get ‘pigeon’ from anyway? Okay, fine, maybe his not-so-pure and ruffled feathers could give an impression but still—he doesn’t even remotely look like one!

Then again, Armaros didn’t have a name when he first met BB, so he couldn’t blame him. Even if he did tell BB that he had a name now, he highly doubts that he’d bother to use it. At least 'Birdbrain' and ‘Angel Freak’ were names he could make do with. “I’m waitin' for you to keel over,” scoffed Armaros with sarcasm following his words. “Hah, ya' might just get what you want then,” replied BB, taking a hesitant sip of his not-so-delightful coffee, “I was hoping that after that last hunt, they would leave me alone for just a little bit. Tch.”

It was the ghosts again. Of course. Armaros should have known. Was this all BB had to complain about? Why doesn’t he just—

“Ignore them then,” spat Armaros before his brain could register itself. BB froze. “Ignore them?” he repeated in disbelief. “It’s clear they don’t care about you or how much sleep you get, Michael. What’cha complainin' about when you know you should take a breather? It’s... not selfish,” said Armaros, mentally balking at how rude he sounded. He quickly averted his gaze towards his coffee. “You don’t get the right to complain about my complainin',” snarled BB, putting down his mug and tossing him a distasteful expression.

Armaros bit the inside of his cheek to hold back a scowl, mentally cursing himself as he glared right back. He seriously didn’t feel like fighting with BB. Maybe he preferred the quiet morning instead. He sighed, putting down his cup, “Y'know, Michael, it would be nice to have a civil conversation for once. Unlike you right now, I’m not trying to pick a fight.”

BB let out a huff of disbelief. “Civil? You’re the last person to suggest a civil conversation here, Angel Freak!” he said, pointing an accusatory finger at Armaros. “Well, maybe–!” Armaros didn’t get a chance to speak. “If it weren’t for you, I could be livin' a normal life with my family. But you just had to fuck me over with that airheaded ass of yours!” reamed BB. Armaros closed his eyes pensively, brows furrowed. Why did he keep bringing that up? It was getting annoying. "I know that, Captain Obvious, but quit accusin' me of twistin' your balls. I was only tryna tell you to do some good for yourself. Geez,” he replied rather quietly. Even he was surprised by his tone. "And stop bringin' things up that aren't relevant to the conversation... You're goin' back on your own word by doing that."

BB looked back, a flicker of something passing through his face before he looked at the floor. He had a point. Again. “Well, either way, none of my things are your business, got it?” he muttered, clicking his tongue and downing the rest of his coffee. He put his mug in the sink as Armaros waved his hand submissively in return. “Alright... I was the one who spoke out of turn anyway, so whatever, I guess,” he disagreed and shook his head, “I didn’t exactly word it the best.”

BB paused, giving the fallen a once-over, but he seemed to relax slightly at the statement. The tension in his brows softened slightly as he shrugged. “Yeah, whatever. Just let me pass out for a bit,” he said, moving slowly past Armaros. “Knock yourself out,” simply replied Armaros, subconsciously crossing his arms, his eyes gazing over the human. BB nodded, “Count on it, and uh—...”

He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. Armaros narrowed his eyes, waiting for BB to finish. “And what?” he replied, looking around awkwardly. BB took in a breath as if he was bracing himself for what he was going to say next. “Thanks for feedin' Mew and settin’ aside some spares. Appreciate it,” said BB. Armaros blinked. Huh. That was… unexpected. With a nod of acknowledgement, BB broke the gaze and fled to his room, leaving the fallen angel to his silence. Armaros remained rooted in his spot for a bit, fidgeting with the mug's handle as he heard the door close, followed by the swish of curtains. “Ugh,” he muttered to himself, exhaling. He scratched his head, clicking his tongue and finishing his drink. He scanned the apartment, the sunlight fully bathed in its golden rays, the furniture seemingly sparkling under it. His gaze then fell on the cluttered floor—cat toys, an open Cheez-Itz box, some of his loose feathers, and BB’s guitar just lying there. He scrunched his nose, turning his attention back to the small clutter in the kitchen. BB left his mug in the sink and didn’t even bother washing it! What is Armaros—his butler?

Grumbling, Armaros took the spare plate he set down earlier and brought his things to the sink, the warm water running over his hands as he cleaned the dishes. He placed the items on the drying rack, taking a damp cloth and wiping down the counters or any surface that looked dirty. Later, Armaros turned to face the living room with a sigh. “To the Heavens above,” he said to himself as he took in the larger mess. He looked at his wing, casually grabbing it and shaking it. He was unusually surprised at how many feathers he shed.

Twitching slightly, he took it upon himself to tidy the place. He didn’t exactly know why he was cleaning up for BB, but he did know that he wasn’t planning to be entirely useless because of his bum leg. That would just be plain laziness. Armaros collected his feathers in a jar, hoping he could check if he could recycle them into some usable quills when he got home. Despite their fallen identity, they still seemed to glimmer in the light just like they used to. Armaros shrugged, setting the open jar on the coffee table. He sighed to himself as he bent down gingerly to collect the sprawled-out cat toys, kicking a few into a neat pile for Mew to pounce on if he wanted to;

Mew purred in the background, watching Armaros place the other toys into his toy box. “Mreow!” he cooed, catching the angel’s attention. Armaros stopped for a moment, taking a second to step back and pat Mew on the head before going back to cleaning. He dumped the other cat toys into their respective place, now turning his gaze to BB’s electric guitar. It was a beautiful shade of dark crimson with custom inlays. It looked delicate— perhaps he should leave it alone or else BB would ream at him for even trying to clean up.

He tilted his head when he picked up the open Cheez-Itz box atop the cylinder coffee table on the couch's right side. He raised a brow— White Cheddar Cheez-Itz. Armaros took a cautious sniff, taking a small white cracker. He popped it in his mouth and hesitantly crunched it. It wasn’t bad, but he still didn’t understand how BB loved this box of unseasoned cheese-sprinkled bread bits. At least they weren’t stale. Armaros grunted as he dragged himself back to the kitchen and stashed the box away into one of the cabinets. He sighed, his wing drooping behind him. What a morning already.

He returned to the living room and decided to lie on the floor under the sunlight, grunting as he did so. He flopped onto his back, closing his eyes and ignoring the slow uncomfortable feeling from practically squishing his wing. The apartment was quite chilly anyway, and he thought a moment of relaxation would do him good before tackling any more cleaning tasks. That is if he decided to let himself be any more generous towards BB. Mew stared down at him, yawning as his tail swung. “Mreeew...” said Mew, stretching.

Armaros cracked an eye open, his gaze wandering over BB’s cat. “Tired, huh? Tell me about it,” peeped Armaros, taking a quiet breath in and sighing, “At least you got nothing to worry about.”

He rolled onto his stomach, his wing catching the light and casting an elegant shadow upon the floor. He snatched a pillow off the couch, resting it under his chin and grabbed his phone he left next to its foot. He scrolled through his email; nothing more than the usual—incoming paychecks from his job at the homeless shelter, volunteer requests, and updates about his gym membership he got a while back to deal with any underlying anger that would build up. With his displacement on Earth, he knew he couldn’t trust human healthcare, and that included his anger issues.

He still couldn’t believe he took BB’s ‘advice’ to get his anger management in line. Sort of. Armaros took the time to answer some emails regarding the volunteer requests he received, explaining about his injury and sorts. He hoped he’d be able to work soon, and speaking of work, he had to message his boss about his recent absences. The night he came back from helping BB on that damned mission, he scheduled at least a week's worth of vacation, hence why he didn't panic about work when he woke up that day. He had a few months' worth of vacation hours stacked up; it was a perk of being an intentional workaholic. Armaros was grateful that his boss was a very understanding and empathic woman and let him keep off from work until he was back on his feet. He was sure to pick up on plenty of extra shifts to make up for his slacking (and so that he wouldn't put in rent late again). Armaros then opened his Instagram to find some entertainment to look at—maybe a new travel reel from one of the accounts he follows or another humorous cooking post. Maybe he’d find one of those videos that gives you a dish based on the viewer’s school major and roasts them accordingly.

The hours slowly passed, the sun’s rays moving across the window as Armaros spent his time trying to keep himself busy. He found himself in all sorts of positions while he kept himself busy—feet propped up on the couch, splits, arching off the side of the couch, dangling by his knees...

It would’ve been funny if BB walked in on him like that. Sooner or later, it was already late afternoon, perhaps a little past 3 PM. Armaros had fallen asleep on the couch, lying on his stomach as his phone settled on the floor underneath his dangling arm. BB’s neon blanket swept over his legs while his wing was neatly tucked against his back. He takes in a sharp breath, stirring. He swears he could feel a pair of eyes on him. Was it Mew?

Armaros lifted himself lightly, rubbing his eyes. He suddenly fell back down.

“Mrew!”

“UGH!”

A small fleeting weight pushed him down on the couch again, causing him to faceplant into the cushioning. Armaros groaned, flaring his wing out for a moment and grabbing hold of the couch’s arm. He wiped his face and sat up, his gaze travelling around the room as he wanted to scold Mew for pouncing him like that. “Mew, I swear on the Lord above–!” he yelled in the air as he turned his head, but the rest of the words caught in his throat. When he looked, yes, he found Mew there, however, he also found BB standing there, frozen in the doorway of his bedroom.

BB was holding onto the doorway as if he just walked in as he stared at the angel with unusually soft eyes. Mew was circling his legs, greeting him. “Uh,”  muttered Armaros, cheeks heating. It wasn’t exactly a gaze that Armaros would have expected from BB. That’s when BB brought himself up to speed, gasping lightly as he realized he was staring. He immediately tore his gaze somewhere on the floor. “Afternoon,” said BB, clearing his throat. “Yeah, afternoon or whatever,” muttered Armaros.

. . .

The silence stood between them like a sore thumb. Armaros was genuinely speechless, BB mirroring him. Armaros reached for the blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders as if subconsciously trying to hide. BB finally spoke up, breaking the tension and lightly glaring at the angel again. “So, Angel Freak, what have you been up to all day?” he asked, trying to ease the tension with a casual question. Armaros flushed deeper at suddenly feeling small against BB’s ghostly eyes, his voice slightly uncertain as he replied, “Oh, just trying to keep myself busy, y’know... random things, and a nap, I guess.”

“Random things?” repeated BB. “What about you then? You sure were productive,” scoffed Armaros, closing his eyes to try and downplay his nerves. BB rolled his eyes at the angel’s sarcastic tone, stifling a yawn. “Haha, very funny,” he frowned. “I’m kidding,” replied Armaros, sighing, “...Slept well?”

“I guess so, yeah. It was less noisy without those ghosts around,” muttered BB. “Sounds fun,” hummed Armaros, looking away again and flopping back on the couch. He heard BB scoff at his remark and shift in his spot. It was quiet again, the two boys keeping their gazes anywhere except each other. Mew’s head flickered between the two of them, twitching his ears curiously at the prolonged silence. Armaros subconsciously let his wing fall limp on his back, draping over the edge of the couch as he let his gaze meet with BB’s now that he regained his composure. BB was staring again. “What?” he frowned.

“Nothin',” muttered BB, scratching the back of his neck as he looked around again. He huffed in slight amusement. “I’m just surprised. You cleaned up?”

BB found it embarrassing he only noticed now. Armaros nodded slightly. “Well, for one, I’m not trying to be useless because of this bummer you patched up,” he replied rather tamely, bending his injured leg slightly as a gesture. “Your stitching skills aren’t half bad, by the way, I’ll give you that. They’re actually better than whatever those dumb human hospitals do.”

A flicker of cockiness flashed BB’s eyes as a smirk tugged the corner of his lip for a moment. He huffed in amusement. “That’s... thanks,” he said. “Don’t let it get to your head,” replied Armaros, shooting BB a look.

“What, you don’t like human hospitals?” asked BB, raising a brow as he picked up Mew who kept scratching at his PJ pants. The feline purred contently as Armaros shook his head. “I’m an angel and a wanted criminal. Plus, I can't be a human hospital without them prodding and questioning me about my anatomy, or without he chance of me getting arrested,” he spat with a hint of sass in his tone. “Fair enough,” replied BB, scoffing.

Then came another load of silence. Armaros sighed, grunting as he moved to sit up. He scratched the back of his head. “I should be able to at least walk short distances by tomorrow, by the way,” he voiced awkwardly. BB raised a brow. “That’s still not good enough for you to head back to whatever you usually do,” he interjected. Armaros grumbled silently. “Dunno if you notice, but I’m not a fan of being useless,” he muttered, folding his arms. It was as if he could almost taste the assumption that BB was actually caring about his injury. It made him bite back a scowl. BB placed Mew on the floor after petting him for a while, his gaze shifting away as he mumbled, “Well, you're not completely useless. You did help with the cleaning today.” Armaros raised an eyebrow, studying BB for a moment. “You're not gonna make me your permanent housekeeper, are you?” he frowned, crossing his arms. BB shot him a glare. "Don't flatter yourself, Birdbrain. I can handle my own mess,” he huffed. “You say that, and I was the one who wiped your ass,” said Armaros, leaning back on the couch and rolling his eyes.

BB eyed the angel up and down, but couldn’t hit back. He wasn’t wrong, after all. He merely sighed and folded his arms, mirroring Armaros’s pose while glaring at him with an unreadable expression. “Why are you looking at me like that?”  snarled Armaros. “No reason,” said BB. A moment later, BB’s stomach rumbled. He flinched, suppressing the heat rising to his cheeks from how loud that was. Armaros raised a brow.

“Hungry?”

“You’re not helping—”

“Good.”

BB continued to keep glaring at Armaros, the latter sporting an amused expression evident at the way how a smidge of a smirk tugged at the corner of his lip.  BB turned to walk away, but Armaros's voice stopped him in his tracks. "You should eat," said Armaros. BB slowly turned around and stared into Armaros's eyes as if searching for any sort of underlying mockery, but he couldn’t deny that he was hungry. BB sighed. “...I guess I should, yeah,” he muttered began, changing directions. He shrugged, humming blankly as he looked at Armaros. “What do you want to eat?” he asked. Armaros blinked, momentary surprise colouring his face. “Surprise me,” he hummed. “How helpful,” scoffed BB as he went to open up the fridge. But, at least it was better than nothing.

This… he could work with.

Chapter Text

Day two in BB’s apartment.

It turns out BB was quite wrong. First thing in the morning (after another annoying night, thanks to a few ghost friends), he gets a lovely but unintentional jump scare by a particularly happy angel—drinking coffee and basking in the morning sun, might he add—in the kitchen. Well, he wasn’t sure if Armaros was happy, really. He seemed to have a permanent frown on his face, but his eyes seemed to be open and bright with the faintest tint of pink on his cheeks. Armaros was most likely in a good mood at least. BB held Mew in his arms as the cat nuzzled up to him to provide some aid in calming his slightly frustrated but mainly fatigued state, watching Armaros move about the kitchen. Armaros filled up a mug with a few espresso shots and some lavender syrup. BB was surprised that Armaros managed to find it today. Quiet blues and pinks splashed Armaros’s face as he spoke.

“So, all that moanin’ and groanin’ I heard last night… I take it you didn’t get much again?” he asked, now taking a cup of what seemed to be cream and carefully swirling it into the coffee.

“...You heard me?” replied BB, clearing his throat and feeling a little embarrassed as he took at seat at the circular counter-table, sunlight kissing his body through the window. He gently tossed his cell phone on the table and rubbed his eyes. His phone case was bright red with faded stickers on the back— a bright contrast to dawn’s hues. “Don’t worry, it didn’t bother me. I was already up— just curious,” said Armaros. BB looked back at the angel with a confused look, slowly putting down Mew.

“Already up? Just how early was that?” he frowned, a little skeptical at Armaros’s statement. Armaros shrugged his shoulders, putting down the cream cup and walking over to the table with the finished beverage in hand. He placed it down and lightly nudged it in BB’s direction.

“Just about an hour, I think,” he sighed, his gaze flickering between BB and the coffee. “...That’s for you, by the way.”

BB raised his brows quizically as if judging the angel’s passiveness. He hummed, leaning forward to pick it up. There was an art piece on top of it made from the cream— a tulip. He looked back up at him with an unreadable expression. “Don’t get used to it, Michael,” scoffed Armaros, taking a seat across from him. He had his own mug with a tulip pattern on top too, and he drank it as if nothing was happening.

The blue-haired human rolled his eyes, his tone dripping with sarcasm while he spoke, “Yeah, right. Like I will...”

He sipped his coffee, bittersweetness washing over his tastebuds. He gave himself a milk mustache too.  He looked at his cup— the drink was unexpectedly good. “You actually made this, huh...” he whispered, more so speaking his own thoughts rather than speaking directly at Armaros. It was then that the rocks on the floor had turned to eggshells, BB would put it. 

He felt like taking back his words yesterday, about being able to work with this, but Armaros should be acting like a pain in the ass! Though, at the same time, he kind of liked it like this, and Armaros did promise that he wouldn’t make things difficult. BB supposes that he just shouldn’t start anything this time, unlike yesterday, despite its oddity to him. BB tapped the edge of his mug, humming contemplatively against the silence. What was he supposed to do— say something? Armaros, or even just the house in general, was too quiet for his liking. He watched Mew curiously blink at the fallen angel, cooing at him and lifting his front paws to reach where Armaros’s stitches were.

Armaros put his mug down and looked at Mew, grinning appreciatively as the cat started kneading softly at his wound. He flinched slightly but he didn't mind it. BB hastily wiped the residue of cream and coffee from his upper lip as he settled his drink, catching Armaros’s attention. Armaros paid BB a glance. Clearing his throat awkwardly, BB finally found his voice, though it came out softer than he intended. "So... breakfast?" he suggested tentatively, gesturing towards the kitchen with a slight tilt of his head.

The fallen angel blinked. He almost forgot about breakfast, if he was being honest. “Oh, right—uhm, sure—yeah, I could use some breakfast,” replied Armaros, “Do you want help or—?”

“Nah, I’ve got it,” said BB, almost immediately. The two boys stared at each other before BB quickly got to work in the kitchen. What he pulled out next were ingredients for one of his comfort foods: Souffle pancakes. It was a staple that his mom would make for him and his siblings when they were young. Perhaps it would flip his morning around, and maybe turn Armaros back into his… well, irritating self somehow.

Armaros held the warm ceramic in his hands as he listened to BB prepare food in the background. He sipped his leftover coffee, looking over his shoulder as Mew jumped down from the counter to weave between BB’s legs. “Mreooow!” called Mew, flicking his tail around BB’s ankles. “Yeah, yeah, I know...” he muttered. “Mrew,” replied Mew, nudging BB’s leg. “But I slept all day yesterday—I got a track I promised to make for Older Bro’s gig,” sighed BB. He looked down at the cat by his feet and slouched as he started folding everything together. Armaros shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Despite BB's reassurances that he didn't need help, he couldn't shake the feeling of inadequacy that gnawed at him. He managed to get a glimpse of BB’s dark circles, causing him to eye the human up and down. They looked even worse than yesterday!

“Looks like the ghosts are treating you well,” interjected Armaros. BB paused mid-whisk, his expression momentarily frozen before he resumed folding the batter. "Yeah, they sure know how to throw a party," he muttered, closing his eyes as he looked away to yawn. There was a hint of defeat in his tone as if BB had already accepted the fact that he wasn’t going to get much, and had to be grateful for what he managed to reap. Armaros sipped his coffee, his eyes staying firm on the human. “I mean, I know we talked about this but... I didn’t mention the part about the other night,” he began, “Didn’t you hand in that other criminal just then?”

BB rolled his eyes—like he needed to be reminded about that! “Yeah, yeah, that’s not how it works, Birdbrain,” he grumbled, putting down the bowl and begrudgingly going to pick up the coffee Armaros made for him earlier. However, he did not want to admit that the angel’s coffee brews were better than his. He quickly downed the coffee and brought it to the sink. BB had more important things on his mind than Armaros's coffee. “Then, how does it work? These ghosts seem to have a crush on you at this point if they love to pester you,” asked Armaros.

BB had to hold back a little laugh at that. He couldn’t lie that he was quite the guy back then, thinking about his high school and early college days. He quickly pushed that thought to the back of his head though. “Aren’t you supposed to be an angel? You should know how spirits work!” said BB, bringing his mind back up to speed.

Armaros sighed. “Well, of course I do. Just not the weird ones who stay clinging to you mortals as if they’re allergic to the afterlife unless they have a valid reason,” he explained, “Personally, the crap you mortals have are somethin' I don’t want to deal with, so I don’t get why some, despite already getting their justice, decide to stay here anyway.”

BB shrugged understandingly. After all, he could at least trust Armaros with what he’s seen and known, considering he is probably centuries old despite looking around his age. He could only imagine how bad it was for Armaros when he had to get used to being on Earth and adjusting to human society. It was probably disgusting to him, considering Heaven was probably literal paradise with none of this human bullshit.

“Fair enough. Well, these ghosts, despite me pulling my ass outta bed every night, always find a problem for me to fix,” said BB, giving Armaros an explanation. Armaros let Mew up on his lap, letting him purr against him as the vibrations slowly made their way to his leg and soothed the ache. “And?” hummed Armaros, waiting for BB to continue.

BB shot the angel a look, resisting the urge to roll his eyes, and sighed. Was that not enough? He turned back to the batter and walked over to the stove with it. “And since I can see them, whether they want to be seen or not, I’m the only one who can bring them justice. You know the rest,” finished BB, now preparing a pan.

He turned up the heat and took out an ice cream scooper for the batter. The utensil made a satisfying click whenever BB placed a large fluffy ball into the pan. He placed a small drop of water into the pan and covered it with a lid. He leaned against the edge of the counter next to the stove.

“At least they bring some usefulness to you on the job,” huffed Armaros, finishing the rest of his coffee. BB chuckled dryly at Armaros' remark. "Usefulness, yeah, if you can call it that," he muttered, more to himself than to the angel. Silence came between them again, the calm purring of BB’s cat in the background. Armaros sighed as Mew finally leapt off of him, smiling softly as he watched him prance to BB and weaving around his legs and purring. BB let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He bent down to let Mew snuggle in his arm to calm himself from such a morning. He opened the pan after a while and let out a heavy breath as he brought a spatula to flip the fluffy pancakes over delicately. They were perfectly smooth and golden brown, BB huffing in satisfaction as he mentally patted himself on the shoulder. Mew chirped in approval, his head inching towards the pan to which BB kept him away.

“Mrew?” chirped Mew, tilting his head. BB chuckled at his little friend before moving towards the pantry for some dry cat food for Mew. Armaros just continued to watch the human and his cat, his wing flapping delicately and making soft rustling sounds as the smell of freshly toasted batter filled the air. He slowly got up, his wing almost swinging him over again if it weren’t for him grabbing onto the chair, and curiously peering over the stove. BB looked over his shoulder as he held a bag of cat food in his free arm, raising a brow at the angel. “You look like you’ve never seen pancakes before,” he said bluntly.

Armaros scratched the back of his neck. “Not as fluffy as these,” he replied, not taking his eyes off the food in the pan. He gently poked the pancake and watched it jiggle, tilting his head to the side. “Well, now you have. Anyway, I hope you like sweet shit because I need something to bother my mouth to keep me up for at least a little more than half a day,” scoffed BB, putting down the cat food after feeding Mew and rummaging through the fridge. He pulled out a tub of nutella and some strawberries, Armaros quickly moving out of BB’s way.

He eyed the chocolate, somewhat judging BB. “So... diabetes for breakfast,” huffed Armaros. BB shot the angel another look, as he chopped up the fruit. “Are you judgin' me?” he scoffed almost playfully, chucking a piece of strawberry at the angel. Armaros flinched as he reached out to catch the little red fruit and shoved it in his mouth, chewing slowly. He merely blinked at BB whom he was basically having a staring contest now, the both of them standing there awkwardly again.

BB couldn't help but feel a sense of amusement bubbling within him as he watched Armaros awkwardly chew the strawberry. There was this look on his face that BB couldn’t deny that gave the angel a bit of unexpected morning charm. “You’re darn lucky I’m in a good mood and won’t throw the toaster at you for chucking a berry at me,” said Armaros in an unusually light tone, gulping down the fruit. BB pressed his lips into a thin line, continuing to cut the fruit. “And here I thought you were finally enjoying your time here," he huffed, his tone light but tinged with a hint of sarcasm.

"I’m toleratin' it,” replied Armaros, now wiping his mouth with a napkin. BB stopped chopping again and looked at the fallen angel with another raised brow. Armaros spoke again. “...Can I be candid?” he asked. “And that was you holding back?” said BB, turning around and folding his arms, feeling a little less terrified by Armaros’s morning demeanour, though, he didn’t want to take chances. Armaros’s unusually calm attitude wasn’t something he was used to after all. Now that he mentioned it, the best attempt that he recalled Armaros had being "calm" was made up of snide remarks and back-handed comments. Moody bitch.

Armaros shrugged. “Maybe just a little bit,” he replied and simply went to grab plates for BB and handed them to him. BB scoffed, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "...I'll take what I can get," he quipped, slowly taking the plates from the fallen angel with a nod. Armaros cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he glanced around the kitchen, suddenly finding interest in the mundane details of the room. He found it pretty how the sunlight hit BB’s cupboards, or how the floating dust motes in the air twinkled and swirled whenever he walked by. Or how the sounds of the birds chipping outside brought a sense of nostalgia to him when he woke up back then. The angel looked outside the window, taking in the pretty view, the corners of his lips lifting slightly. It reminded him of the times he’d go on morning walks with his old archangel friend in Heaven, sitting on his palm while he guided Armaros through the sea of clouds.

The sound of a plate sliding towards him caught his attention; two large fluffy pancakes, stacked with a thin layer of Nutella and topped with diced strawberries on top, appeared next to him. “Oh, thank you,” murmured Armaros, glancing at BB with acknowledgement.

“Breakfast is breakfast. Dig in,” replied BB, sliding a fork over, “There’s more over here if you want.”

Armaros nodded and slowly started eating, surprised that the food wasn't as sweet as he anticipated. “Good?” asked BB. “It’s great, actually,” said Armaros, covering his mouth with one hand. BB hummed in response before plating his own food. His stomach grumbled, but he merely took a single pancake and topped it accordingly, his mind now drifting to some stuff he had to do today.

It’s been a while since his older brother gave him that track request, but he’d been so caught up with a few ghosts and handling Armaros that he didn’t really get much done for it. Perhaps he’d spend his time at his computer to work on it and catch a few for Zs. It wasn’t exactly too productive, but it was better than being a lardass all day.

Armaros finished his food relatively quickly, and by the time BB brought himself back to speed again, he was watching the angel approach the spare pancakes on another plate and grab a few more. BB supposed that Armaros was quite hungry. He stared back at his own plate, his breakfast barely eaten and quickly gobbled down the rest before washing his plate and tidying up the kitchen. He caught Armaros’s attention when he grabbed the pan off the stove. "You're not having more?" inquired Armros, his voice laced with genuine interest.

BB glanced up from his task, offering a small shrug. "Nah, I'm good," he replied casually, though there was a hint of discomfort in his tone.

Armaros furrowed his brow slightly, a knowing glint in his eyes. “You sure about that? You only had one... I mean, I’m still an extra mouth to feed, yeah, but it’s still your food,” he remarked, his gaze lingering on BB’s face. BB’s lips twitched, a wry smile playing on his lips. "Just not that hungry, I guess,” he said, though the words felt hollow even to his own ears. “...Uhm, you’ve been fine with chillin’ in the living room with Mew, right? I’m gonna go work on a soundtrack for my brother.”

The fallen angel scoffed. “Like I haven’t been doing that for the past two, almost three days without complainin',” he muttered as he placed a piece of food in his mouth, his wing flapping softly. BB’s eye twitched at Armaros’s sass, but at least it was one familiar thing that he was somewhat glad to see. “Well, I did mention I can’t be lettin’ you get too comfy,” snickered BB, scoffing back. “Mhm, and yet, here we are,” replied Armaros, rolling his eyes and shooting BB a knowing look.

BB could only grunt in response before leaving Armaros to his devices. He clicked and whistled at Mew for him to follow him as he left for his bedroom, his cat following swiftly with his tail high and mighty.  As much as he wished he could be paranoid about leaving Armaros alone without Mew, he surprisingly wasn’t, considering he the angel was able to miraculously find something to do in his bare apartment.

“Mrrr...” chirped Mew, trotting into BB’s room as he watched BB close the door behind him. “Yeah, I know, Mew... I’ll be okay,” reassured BB; Mew wasn’t entirely convinced. As BB entered the linked arts and music studio he had in his room, he sat on his computer chair with a grunt and Mew hastily leapt onto his lap before he could even react. “Well then, if you insist,” chuckled BB, now booting up his computer.

He brought his mind up to almost two weeks ago; his older brother, OB, had asked him a favour on coming up with a hype, hiphop-style beat—something they were familiar with. The gig OB mentioned was part of the Newgrounds NYC club competition; a one-year-long event for clubs registered under Newgrounds for a chance to gain popularity and move up a club class, or be spotted by sponsored music agencies. The rule of this event was simple enough, creating total fresh beats and original lyrics to submit and perform live at the NYC Newgrounds Arena, and OB had asked BB for help. OB was lucky their entire family was made up of musicians!

BB opened up the program and immediately started clicking away. He already had a fair share of work done before the whole... whatever the situation had come to be, so he had no problem kicking it off. Beats filled his ears as he occasionally swayed his head, seeing his work come together. The creamy sounds of his keyboard clicking were like a good scratch to his brain as he searched through his files for some samples he created with his launchpad. Some were quite good for this track, others weren’t. He quickly hooked up his launchpad to his computer and started experimenting with the spaces in the track that seemed empty or needed a redo. He messed around for a bit, Mew purring and kneading in his lap whenever BB got frustrated on the track. The feline was happily rewarded with little kisses and scratches now and then when he successfully pushed away any sort of negativity that could unintentionally trigger a heart hiccup or any other attack he did not want to deal with for no reason.

Eventually, BB caught himself jamming to the tune himself. He was convinced that this beat would keep his older brother at the top! BB stuck out his tongue in concentration as he fiddled with the track and his launchpad for several hours without taking his eyes off the screen. He made random sounds with his mouth to fill the empty air, taking in the small rustling sounds from the living room he managed to hear over his headphones.

Armaros seemed to be enjoying his time, he supposed. Part of BB wondered what that birdbrain managed to find to entertain him. It was sort of grounding while he was in his space, sort of like a cord connecting him to the reality of the things around him. However, that is when he realized he was slowing down, and Mew (not exactly thrilled with the fact that his owner was succumbing to the fatigue that the ghosts had inflicted more than once), leapt onto the desk. BB scrunched his nose upon hearing Mew’s loud meows and feeling him swat at his hand; He was dozing off.

Despite Mew’s protests, BB groaned as he sat up straight, looking at the time. It was barely past noon, and he’d only been up for six hours! Then again, he barely reaped up any hours for himself...

“Mew...” sighed BB, pouting slightly. He was just having a great idea of what to add to make the track pop more! He just had to add it in now! “Mrrr...” chirped Mew, now sitting in front of BBs screen. “A little more. I’m almost halfway,” said BB, nudging his cat softly. Mew didn’t budge; he kept meowing at BB to persuade him to shut off his PC so he could rest. BB blinked, his vision blurry as he stared at his computer screen. He brought the heels of his palms to his face, wiping his dry eyes to return some form of moisture to them. “Mreow!” coaxed Mew, flicking his tail impatiently.

BB gave Mew a look, staring back at his golden-eyed cat. “Mrr…” purred Mew, curling up at the keyboard as if guarding it. “Oh, c’mon, man–! Ugh…” grumbled BB. With a defeated sigh, he quickly saved his work and patted Mew on the head. “Alright, alright. I’ll rest my eyes for a bit.”

He leaned back in his chair and let out another breath, his hands finding their way behind his head. He closed his eyes for just a moment, intending to rest them for a brief second before getting back to work. But as the seconds ticked by, that moment stretched into minutes, and before he knew it, BB had drifted off into a light doze. The soft purring of Mew in front of him provided a comforting backdrop to his dreams, and for a while, he floated in a blissful state of semi-consciousness.

Everything around BB was all fuzzy as his head started falling to the side and his arms slowly folded across his chest. Now drifting off into a deeper sleep in his chair, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. The exhaustion from the ghosts’ pestering seemed to melt away as he sank away. It was silent for the rest of his sleep, his ears turning the busy afternoon Brooklyn streets into one soft lullaby. If BB was conscious, he’d probably think it was cool that his brain was able to turn something as stupid as motorbike rumbles and shop bells into music. He curled his legs onto what room was left on his chair, shifting to his side.

BB would soon come to regret that. The minutes then turned into hours, the sunlight panning across BB’s studio as he slept through the afternoon. BB furrowed his brows upon hearing a shuffling noise and what he thinks was a soft knock.

“Michael, you in here? You’re phone–...oh. Geez, how do you sleep like that...?”

He heard Armaros’s voice quietly echo, slowly rousing him, but his eyelids remained shut and his consciousness barely lifted. He managed to feel a soft touch on his cheek, like a feather brushing against his skin, but he remained deep in his slumber.

 “Mrrr...” BB heard Mew purr. “Shhh, don’t worry,” he also managed to hear Armaros whisper in response.

Suddenly, there was a sensation of something being lifted from his head, a weight disappearing from the sides of his skull, followed by the soft tap of something being put down. BB mumbled as he felt his head slowly lift before he was placed on something soft. His chair seemed to shift slightly, the back reclining as if adjusting to accommodate his sleeping form, and finally, he felt something light and gentle falling over his tired body. He was able to recognize that it was his bright neon blanket that usually sat on the couch.

“...Seriously, if you're gonna sleep, sleep on your bed or somethin'..." 

BB felt something lightly yet firmly pat his shoulder, his body instinctively shifting away from the touch and refusing to fully awaken. He was caught in that blissful limbo where the world seemed distant and time held no meaning. BB wasn’t sure how long he was out for, but it had been another few hours since Armaros had come into his room.

It was dark outside now, the moon hovering above the buildings of the city. He slept for at least another hour until he felt it—a heap of familiar but unwelcome presences enter his room.

“Michael...”

“Michael...!”

“You have to go...”

BB flipped onto his other side, a millisecond of a snarl tugging at the corner of his lip. The ghosts were back again for more pestering. “I...warned you...last time...” whispered BB, sinking into his blanket more.

“Michael...!”

“You can’t slack...!”

“They’re on the move...”

BB twitched.

“Please...”

“We beg of you...”

Then came the harassment. BB felt multiple unseen hands on his arms, shaking him and tugging on his shirt to get him to rouse. The more BB ignored them, the worse it got. He was used to it though. Finally, BB shook them off as he shot up from his position and scratched his head frustratingly. He sighed heavily, opening his ghostly eyes as they glowed menacingly. He bit the inside of his cheek, turning his head to make eye contact with them all. That anger quickly disappeared when he realized the darkness of his room and the light from his still-functioning computer painting his face and tired features. He looked around and then at himself— a blanket in his lap, his legs curled up in his seat, and his chair almost fully reclined with a pillow on the headrest. BB’s eyes widened slightly; how in the world did he end up like this? How long did he even sleep? He quickly rubbed his eyes and looked at the digital clock on his computer.

It was 11:30 PM. “What the fuck...” sighed BB, moving to stretch his legs. He groaned as he felt his joints cracked after being folded for so long.

Vvv–Vvv!

BB turned his attention to the sound, his gaze landing on his cell phone. Didn’t he leave it in the kitchen? He picked it up and looked at the screen, scrolling through at least three missed calls from OB, a couple of notifications from his socials, and then his most recent pop-up. It was a notification from the police regarding a message about a criminal duo sighting that they were requesting his help to hunt down as soon as he could.

BB looked at the ghosts again with an irritated look as he stood up. He shut off his computer and shuffled to his dresser in his bedroom. “You guys are fuckin' lucky... Wait on the rooftop,” he huffed, pulling his shirt over his head as the ghosts nodded. His bounty-hunting attire wasn’t too different from his usual casual wear. He rotated his wrists as he adjusted his gloves and made sure the band of black cargo pants was properly wrapped around his lower half. He grabbed his gas mask and flipped his hood up, his hat turned backwards and placed it securely on his head.

BB nearly forgot that Armaros was in his apartment until the sound of faint snoring managed to creep into his ears. At least he didn’t have to explain to the fallen angel where he was off to. He grabbed his spiked metal bat from under his bed and shoved a straight-edged knife into its sheath that hung on his side. “They better be grateful...” whispered BB to himself, shaking his head and tucking his phone in his back pocket and zipping it. Since he didn't want to risk waking Armaros, he had to take a more risky exit from his apartment through his studio window (which luckily had a ledge around a meter and a half below him), and slowly shuffle to the fire escape that was outside his living room. The metal rattled with each ascending step he took to the rooftop, echoing quietly through the night.

He just needed to turn these two criminals in and call it a night, and he was at least content with the fact he got some shut-eye before this. He made contact with the eager ghosts, ready to lead BB to his target. Though... BB didn’t think that he’d be hunting criminals for the next three nights straight with barely any food or sleep at all.

Chapter Text

BB watched as the criminal failed to get up and panted. He scoffed. “That’s right. Stay down, pal,” he scoffed darkly, exhaling a hot breath. He could feel his bones aching, threatening to collapse if he stood still any longer. He shook off the unease in his joints and unravelled the rope on his belt, standing over the limp body on the floor and grabbing him by the wrists. “Mmgh…” grumbled the criminal, words being unable to come out of his mouth. Blood seeped from the corners of his lips and onto the grimy floor. BB tied up the man and dragged him up against the wall. “Save it for the court,” he snarled. He turned his head slightly as sirens began to approach.

Vvv-vvv!

BB took his phone out of his back pocket, the screen flashing across his face and highlighting the blood and grime that got on his skin and hair. “We’re about 10km away. If you hear us, you’re free to leave. Thanks, Silvers,” said the text message. BB quickly sent a thumbs-up in reply as he tapped his spiked bat on the floor, however, his job wasn’t finished yet. He still had to find that ghost who tracked this criminal and help it move into the afterlife. He huffed again. “Have fun in prison, scum,” said BB, leaving the criminal in the isolated street and climbing his way up a nearby building. He took a few rooftop shortcuts before finally climbing back to the floor.

“A-agh...!” gasped BB, a few seconds after landing—heart hiccups.

BB didn’t want to risk collapsing on his way home, so he leaned against a nearby dumpster and clutched his chest. “Shit…!” he coughed, heaving a little bit. Why did they have to have to turn up now?! He had to sit down. BB gulped as he gasped for air, catching a few of the ghosts’ attention around him. They crowded around him curiously, blinking and staring. “O-oh, hey…! Just— give me a minute, alright? I’ll help you out after I… get my shit together… okay?” nervously chuckled BB, giving the ghosts a weak smile. One of the ghosts inched closer. “Are you…… okay…..?” it whispered eerily. BB raised a brow at the spectral figure. It wasn't very often that a ghost would ask about his well-being after a hunt. Most just thanked him and after some assurance, they’d move on. BB coughed again as he tried to steady the thick vice around his chest. “It's okay, really,” reassured BB, forcing a reassuring smile despite the tightness in his chest. “I've been through worse. Just need a moment…. to catch my breath, that's all.”

The ghosts remained around BB, as they waited. They watched with concern as BB allowed himself to slide down the length of the dumpster, sinking to the ground with a heavy sigh. His muscles ached, his head throbbed, and every breath felt like shards of glass scraping against his lungs. “Damn,” he muttered to himself, running a shaky hand through his sweat-dampened hair. Closing his eyes, BB focused on regulating his breathing, counting each inhalation and exhalation to calm his racing heart. Gradually, the tightness in his chest began to loosen, replaced by a dull ache that pulsed in time with his heartbeat. He was exhausted, and hungry; really hungry. If he had the energy, BB would have cooked up a whole table of food and eaten it all on his own. However, as of right now, he had to get these ghosts to the afterlife.

After what felt like an eternity, BB finally felt strong enough to stand. With a grunt of effort, he pushed himself upright, using his spiked bat for support as he steadied himself on unsteady legs.  He pulled down his mask, his full face in view for the ghosts to see. “Well, I think it’s time you skedaddle from here, eh?” said BB in a small voice as he glanced at the small group of ghosts around him. “Your killer is gettin’ put behind bars, and while I still have more of that guy’s buddies to hunt, I’m sure you’ll be just fine, alright?”

The ghosts had this look of hesitance on their faces as they exchanged glances, their eyes whispering to each other. BB furrowed his brow, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten as he observed the ghosts' indecision. It wasn't typical for spirits to be so hesitant to move on, especially after their unfinished business had been resolved. “Hey,” he said gently, addressing the group of ghosts with a soft tone, "I know it's scary, but it’s time to let go. I know that’s easier said than done, but I… know someone who grew just as bitter as you all and is trying his best to let go, which he is and…”

BB paused for a moment. He recalled his first mission with Armaros. He scoffed to himself; he didn’t think he’d ever use the angel freak as a good example. “....He’s getting… better. Therefore, I believe you should do the same,” he finished, feeling a little tug at the corner of his lip, “You’ll feel a lot better, I promise.”

...

The ghosts slowly began to smile softly as they bowed their heads in gratitude and acknowledgement, their bodies fading away from the bottom-up into glittery nothingness. BB sighed; his job was officially done for the night. The chilling night air swirled around his body as he turned around to leave the space and head home. It was a long shift he just endured. He dragged his feet across the sidewalk and pulled out his cell phone. BB’s eyes darkened, a frown dragging his face down— it was almost five in the morning. He hoped that he would be home at least by three, but he was two hours overtime. Though, he was getting a hefty reward for this week, so he couldn’t complain much. As he walked the streets, he found himself being followed, but not by anyone. It was the ghosts, as always, asking for his help, others just wanting some company. He had to explain to a few that his shift was over— not that it changed much of their attitude towards him, but they were easy to back off since some had witnessed his shift.

They followed him around like curious stray dogs attracted by the scent of their favourite treat. Being used to the ghosts pestering him all night, BB wasn’t as bothered as he used to be, trying just to ignore them while he walked down the otherwise quiet street. Part of him wished he brought his motorbike so he could get home faster.

By the time BB got to his apartment’s fire escape that stood on the side of his building, he was already dizzying with fatigue. He craved a shower of a frigid, skin-biting temperature, sleep that was long enough to convince people he was dead, and absolute silence. As BB ascended the fire escape to his apartment, each step felt heavier than the last, as if he were carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. The chill of the night air seemed to seep into BB’s bones, adding to the exhaustion that already consumed him for the past three hunts he went on.

His attention was caught when he heard approaching footsteps. He looked from his feet to see Armaros descending from the higher set of stairs with a mug in his hand. The two of them froze upon seeing each other. BB scrunched his nose.

“Birdbrain.”

“Michael.”

BB scratched the back of his head. “Didn't I tell you to stay off the leg? I literally restitched you yesterday, you're going to open your wound,” he asked, raising a brow and growing a little irritated. He leaned against the railing of the fire escape, his spiked bat resting against his shoulder as he examined the fallen with tired eyes. Though, it wasn't like BB could read anything off of the fallen. He listened to Armaros sigh deeply, a little bit of unintended sass seeping into his tone.

"I just wanted some wing-stretch time. It'll be fine," murmured Armaros, his wing flicking with his almost poorly masked irritation. BB shot Armaros a look. He wanted to swing his bat straight into his head with the way this birdbrain answered him. “Well, you could have stretched inside," he frowned. "And knock over your oddly-shaped lamp?" replied Armaros, raising a brow and gesturing to how big his wing is. "I'd rather reopen my wound than have my ears bleed, thanks."

BB exhaled sharply and clenched his jaw. “You-...! Ugh, whatever...” he said, reaching for the clasp of the window. Armaros watched BB’s eye twitch before raising the glass without breaking eye contact. “In, now. I don’t have time for this,” snarled BB, sending Armaros a withering glare. The angel rolled his eyes and limped down the stairs. “...Bummer,” he scoffed as he slid right inside the apartment and downed the rest of his coffee. BB was only just getting a foot inside when he saw Armaros already cleaning up and making himself some food.

The window shut a little too loudly for comfort as BB kicked off his boots and went to his room, grabbing a dirty rag to clean up his bat. He took a closer look at it after rubbing out most of the gunk and blood, making a disgusted face before gently leaning his bat against the wall with his boots. It was about time he washed this rag anyway.

BB hauled his laundry basket with him to the bathroom, flicking the lights on. The light was a gentle white that contrasted his grim feelings.

He could hear some chopping noises from the kitchen followed by some meowing and mumbling. It seems like Armaros was having some fun time with his cat, not so much to BB’s enjoyment. BB sighed as he closed the door behind him and opened the washer, shedding his dirty clothes and tossing them alongside his other dirty belongings inside.  Since he planned to take a cold shower, he also took his plush towel and tossed it in the dryer to warm it up.

BB walked to the sink to examine himself in the mirror, and God, did he look… colourless. His eyebags were heavier than usual, he looked pale, and his bright blue hair seemed to have dulled. On top of that, he looked skinnier than usual. BB scrunched his eyebrows as he brought a hand to squeeze his arm. He wondered when his last proper meal was; it couldn’t have been that long, could it? His body was also slightly marred with a few cuts and bruises, much to BB’s delight with not having to deal with any deep wounds or excessive cleaning.

BB then found himself looking through his own eyes, their gaze dominant, yet so empty. He rubbed them.

“You look like a freak!”

BB huffed and shook his head. That wretched dude he captured almost a week ago didn’t have many comebacks from that fight. It was ironic that he managed to hit an insecurity. The shower that BB craved finally hit him like a truck as he stepped in, cold water chilling his heated and bloody body. It cooled the irritating sting of his cuts and the soreness of his bruises as he let the water douse him like a waterfall. The bathroom lingered with lavender and vanilla, an unexpected scent of products that could leave people surprised. BB even wondered what was so surprising about his favourite scent choices, but it smelled good! He even has a corner on the top of his small bookshelf for his mini perfume and cologne collection!

BB wasn’t sure how long he was in the shower for but he was brought back when he heard his washer beep softly. He stared at the washer from inside his shower in surprise; he had been in there for an hour already. He sighed as he stared at his pruney fingers before shutting off the water and sliding the glass door aside, kicking off a few heavy droplets that clung to him. The towel fresh from the dryer made BB want to collapse to sleep right on the spot as he ran it through his hair and dabbed it across his body and arms before wrapping it around his hips

Before he did anything else, he grabbed the wet clothes and tossed them into the dryer, aiming to fold them up when he got the chance probably. BB walked in front of the sink, glancing at himself in the fogged-up mirror. His reflection appeared slightly distorted through the cold steam. BB opened one of the lower drawers and fetched the first aid, but a bemused expression painted his face when he opened it.

Where did all the bandages go, and where was the ointment? There were only a couple of gauges and medical tapes left! He looked at the drawer's surface and saw a sticky note pasted on the surface, which said, “REMINDER: BUY MORE SUPPLIES BECAUSE BIRDBRAIN FINISHED IT YESTERDAY!!!”.

BB’s jaw clenched as he closed the cabinet. Right.

And he supposed that Armaros had a valid point about how he would know that he was going to hunt the other day. He was actually supposed to have this night off so he was able to get up in the morning to head out to restock, but since the ghosts always refused to get the message, he had no choice but to work. Now, he couldn’t even dress his wounds! “Fucking...” whispered BB, the rest of his words dying on his tongue. At least there were still gauges and medical tapes...

He grabbed the disinfectant and a few cotton balls, barely registering the sting in his cuts as he dabbed the alcohol across the side of his arms. Either, it was nothing compared to how tired he was or he had a high pain tolerance, and peeling the tape off his skin later would also be a bother. He hoped the gauges would hold for the day. He tossed his towel onto the nearby rack and reached for a robe under the counter’s shelves, slipping it over him. It was a handmade yutaka from his grandparents that was shipped over from Japan. It was able to keep him warm despite the light material it was made of. The fabric stopped by his ankles as he struggled to keep a sleeve from slipping off his shoulder. BB grumbled as he took a brush and started pulling his long, almost mid-back-length hair behind him. The tugging kind of felt nice, and it was making him sleepier.

Speaking of sleep, he should get out of the bathroom now… Just as BB swung open the door and stepped out, he bumped his head into something. Someone, actually. 

“Ah–!”

“Awh–!”

Armaros held his forehead with one hand as he gritted his teeth. BB hissed at the contact and reeled his head back from the recoil. He heard Armaros grumble. “Gosh, I was gonna be nice and ask if you were finished drowning, and this is my repayment?” snarled Armaros, gritting his teeth. He was covering his head with BB’s blanket, a tuft of his hair sticking out from the front. BB blew some air to release the tension on his head, scoffing. “You? Nice? Yeah, right, and why are you covering yourself like that?” he sneered at Armaros, still rubbing his head. He reached out to uncover Armaros’s head, only for the latter to flinch and step away in an almost defensive manner.

“Don’t touch me,” replied Armaros almost instantly. BB raised a brow. “I wasn’t even going to touch you. I was going to remove MY blanket over your head,” he said. “It still requires your hand on me,” huffed Armaros. BB rolled his eyes, feeling the familiar irritation bubbling up inside him. "Well, you won't catch cooties from my hand, Birdbrain. Trust me," he retorted, his voice laced with sarcasm. Armaros shot him a glare before averting his gaze, clearly not in the mood for banter. BB couldn't blame him; he was probably tired too, though BB doubted his exhaustion could compare to his own.

“...Can I have the hairbrush now so I can please take care of something?” asked Armaros after a long moment of silence. So that’s what Armaros really came to the bathroom for. BB sighed and simply stepped aside for Armaros to whip past him and shut the door in the blink of an eye. He flinched as he jumped away from the door. Was Armaros really in need of a hairbrush that badly? He already seen his messy hair earlier, so what was the point?

Nevertheless, BB entered his room through his studio and flung his blinds down with a bit more force than usual. He flinched at his own action before a soft tail made itself known as it brushed against his ankles. “Mrew...” cooed Mew, looking up at BB with big eyes. BB sighed and picked up his cat, bringing him close and cradling him like a baby. Mew purred, resting his head on BB’s shoulder as BB sat on his bed. BB nearly felt like fainting at the feeling of his plush bed under his skin. “Mrrr...” purred Mew, licking BB’s ear.

BB slowly fell back on his mattress with a soft grunt, Mew relaxing in his grasp and purring. BB blinked, the corners of his vision darkening the more he stared at the ceiling. Cool sheets and pillows slowly caused him to black out, the weight of Mew’s head resting on his chest and the vibrations of his purring creating music to his ears.

It was a dreamless slumber, his head empty and only craving as much sleep as he could get. He felt like he was floating in the middle of a large pool of water, cold and deep. The further time passed, the further he sank into that pool of darkness, and he made sure to soak in it for as long as possible— not like his body was going to get up anyway. BB was too tired and was convinced his bones would probably collapse if he dared to even stand in the state he was in.

Mew’s purring eventually fell on deaf ears and his nerves lost their functionality. Soft snores filled BB’s room as he slept; nothing too special, and very mundane, but it provided humanity to the still apartment. However, just as BB was about to bring his head down under, something grabbed him by the neck and pulled him out of the water. Whispering voices had already come back to pester him again, however, it had already been a full day, and midnight was slowly starting to creep around the corner. The ghosts were shaking BB with their unseen limbs, trying to pull on the sheets that wrapped snugly around him. BB grumbled, finally twitching and shifting.

“Two people… We found two of your other targets…”

“They slaughtered us!”

“Put them and their family behind bars!”

BB heard the ghosts cry as he snapped his eyes open, his brows knitted together as he fully registered the ghostly touches that had successfully roused him. There was a low growl in his groan as he frustratingly shook them off and sat up, giving them withering glares. He did not want to do this again tonight. BB inhaled sharply to prevent himself from roaring with frustration. He looked around his room, seeing how black it was, the moonlight barely coming through the blinds of his windows, making the ghosts look more ghastly with their silvery appearance in the dark.

“Can’t it wait? They know I’ve been huntin’ a lot of their buddies recently. Why would they be actin’ tonight? They’d be too cautious to do anything,” complained BB, clearly irked and his voice husky from his abrupt awakening. “No!” cried a ghost. BB flinched at the ghastly scream. It was amplified by quite a bit since he, too, was basically one of them. BB tried to argue again, “I’ve been hunting for–!” 

“No, they’re plotting!”

“Get them!”

“Do you not care?”

All the ghosts protested against BB, wanting their justice as if it really could not wait. BB scoffed, shaking his head. Exasperated, BB rubbed his temples, trying to suppress the pounding headache threatening to split his skull open. The ghosts' voices echoed in his mind, relentless and demanding. He knew he couldn't ignore them; their unfinished business weighed heavily on them, just like the duty that was put on his shoulders. With a heavy sigh, BB pushed himself off the bed, yanking his phone from the nightstand as his muscles protested every movement. “Fine… Fine, fine!” he grumbled, his voice slightly raised and laden with resignation, “But this is the last one for this week. I need some damn rest.”

He rubbed his face with his hand as he gently opened the curtains in front of his door. BB raised a brow upon hearing silence strike the air. He cautiously opened the door and poked his head into the living room, blinking in surprise when he heard the soft steady breathing of Armaros on the couch. Armaros seemed to have been sleeping for a while now, considering how he didn’t wake up from the floor below BB’s weight creak. BB let out a soft huff before slowly turning away and making his way into the bathroom to retrieve his clothes from the dryer, lazily picking up his hoodie and cargo pants. He’d deal with the rest of his clothes later anyway.

BB dressed quickly, not bothering to put much effort into his appearance. He was too tired for that, and it wasn't like he was going to a fancy dinner or anything. He grunted a little as he reached to tie up his hair, his arms still sore. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, flipping up his hood. He opened his phone’s lock screen, the brightness making him squint a little. It was late alright… Perfect for a hunt.

Though… He was going to be up against two criminals again, and with how tired he was, he probably would need some help but not a takeover. He scratched his head as he slowly crept out of the bathroom, grabbed his weapons, and strode into the kitchen, opening his pantry for a box of already-opened Cheez-Its. There were around two handfuls of it left, so BB supposed he could finish them as a little snack before his hunt. The box read “Italian Four-Cheese”. Not too shabby. It was BB’s second favourite flavour of Cheez-It. It would do for tonight.

He sighed as he shook a few crackers into his hands and shoved them into his mouth. The familiar salty taste shook his taste buds, the flavour waking him up a little more. Though… He didn’t feel completely awake. He clicked his tongue quietly as he dug his hand into the box, humming.

“Hunting? Again?”

BB let out a scream that overlapped the unexpected commentary as he stumbled into the counter jumping slightly. The box of Cheez-Its fumbled from his hands, the soft scratching sound of a few crackers spilling out and creating a crumbly mess on the surface. He whipped his head around to find Armaros lying awake, his head up and looking tiredly at him. “Dude, what the fuck?!” shouted BB, heaving a fat breath, “Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?”

“I can’t exactly sleep with you gobbling flavourless crackers like a starved boar,” mumbled Armaros, rubbing his eyes. “Wow. Didn’t take you for a light sleeper,” scoffed BB, ignoring Armaros’ play-by-play on his favourite snack. He reached to clean up the spillage and tossed more Cheez-Its in his mouth, crunching loudly to spite Armaros. Armaros shook his head. “I’m not,” he said. BB shook his head and continued eating. “Then why are you up, Birdbrain?” he snarled. Armaros shrugged. “...Not sure, actually,” he sighed with a hint of boredom seeping through his tone. BB turned around and raised a brow at the angel. “...Did the ghosts strike again?” asked Armaros, quickly adding on. 

“Oh, shut it. Just because you were right doesn’t mean you have to gloat about it,” grumbled BB, his irritation palpable as he wiped down the countertop. Armaros tilted his head down as his gaze stayed against BB’s. “I wasn't bringing that up, but I did mean it,” he muttered. “And I told you I can’t. Why don’t you try sleeping through a hoard of revenge-crazy ghosts?” snarled BB, furrowing his eyebrows. “Oh, I don’t know...  I highly doubt ghosts would want to bother an angel that could probably send them to hell for trying anything,” said Armaros, rolling his eyes sarcastically, “What I’m tryin’ to say is, you should try sleeping again.”

BB paused as he stared at Armaros as if he had just asked the stupidest question known to mankind. “You think I haven't done that?” he barked. “And do you think salt will keep you safe when you’re… that tired?” grumbled Armaros, rubbing his temples, “For a guy who hunts, you’re supposed to be smart. So far, I’m not convinced.”

BB shot Armaros another withering glare. “And for a guy who's supposed to be an angel, you're not very angelic," he retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Armaros rolled his eyes again in response, clearly unfazed by BB's jibe. BB folded his arms across his chest, his expression hardening. "Why do you-... Look, I... appreciate the concern, but I've got a job to do," he spat his voice leaving no room for argument. "Those ghosts need closure, and it's my responsibility to help 'em find it."

"The last time I checked, responsibility didn't mean becomin' a doormat,” quipped Armaros. BB's eyes narrowed at Armaros's remark but he held his tongue. He wasn't worth entertaining. He silently shut off the conversation and downed the rest of the Cheez-Its before making a beeline to the window to the right of the couch and unclasping it. He felt Armaros's gaze on him and he managed to cast a small glance at him, a small acknowledgement, before climbing out. Armaros listened as the metal steps creaked under BB's weight, letting them fade away, leaving the angel in silence.

He closed his eyes to try and sleep again but as shifted positions on the couch, he knew that it was practically impossible as of right now. Without any hope left of sleeping, he looked outside the window, watching as the neighbourhood street had already let go of yesterday’s adventures. He looked at the moon, feeling bad about earlier.

“...Well, there I go again,” sighed Armaros, hoping to talk to his family again. He sat up with a grunt and supported himself on the backrest. The moon seemed to brighten in Armaros’s face. “O-okay, listen... I didn't-"

The moonlight dimmed, causing Armaros to sigh again as he closed his arms around his stomach which was churning with unease. “Right... sorry, I'll keep that in mind next time."

Armaros rested his cheek in his hand as he watched the stars slowly glide across the sky, however, the unease in his stomach remained relentless. It almost made him sick. “Why did I even start that? I knew I should have just told him to have a safe trip instead,” muttered Armaros, running his hands over his face. The fallen angel sighed as he turned away from the window and just sank in his spot.

“Mrew?”

Armaros turned his head to the doorway to see Mew standing there with a tilted head. “Mreow!” he purred, trotting up to Armaros’s feet and jumping onto his lap. “Ah… What’s up?” sighed Armaros, bringing a hand to gently pat Mew. The cat simply curled up in his lap and purred lazily against Armaros’ stomach, the angel blushing slightly at Mew’s little action. “Man, you’re a good cat… So cute and helpful…” said Armaros, picking up Mew and holding him to his face, “You’re like… the only one that understands me! At least you treat me like I’m not bad...”

“Mrrrr…” chirped Mew, tilting his head as he licked Armaros’s nose. The angel let out a soft chuckle, putting Mew back on his lap and leaning back on the plush of BB’s couch. He curled his wing in front of him as Mew let him swat at his feathers playfully. He didn’t mind; it actually helped him start to doze off.

Eventually, Mew ended up curled in Armaros’s lap as the angel had fallen asleep sitting up with the blanket barely wrapped around his shoulders. It was a quiet sleep that had made the hours pass quicker than Armaros imagined. However, he hadn’t achieved his usual deep sleep that helped him wake up in a good mood. Armaros stirred upon hearing alarmed meows in the distance, groaning quietly as he sat out from slouching, now realizing the weightlessness in his lap. Armaros blinked his eyes open, the room still dark except for the faint glow of the moonlight filtering through the blinds. 

With a sigh, Armaros pushed himself up from the couch, the blanket slipping off his shoulders as he stood. He stretched his wing, feeling the stiffness from sleeping in an awkward position. Mew continued to meow insistently, and Armaros followed the sound, finding the cat pawing against BB’s locked studio window. Armaros gently pushed BB’s door open, coming inside and speaking in a hushed voice to avoid startling Mew. “Mew, what's wrong?” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep as he walked up to the window.

Mew kept pawing at the glass, his tail puffed up in alarm as he continued to meow urgently. Armaros frowned, his concern growing as he scanned the streets for any signs of danger. "What's got you so worked up?" he muttered to himself, his mind still foggy from sleep. That’s when he felt it again; the sickening unease in his stomach. Something was wrong.

“Mew… Is Michael…” said Armaros, trying to connect the dots. Mew scurried off and ran, Armaros following confusedly. "Mrrrrr!" purred Mew as he tried to jump on the living room windowsill. "What-..." he rubbed his eyes and picked up the cat. He watched as he kept trying to reach for the window, alarming him further.

Armaros raised the blinds of the window in a single quick motion and looked up at the moon again. “Guys?” he called out quietly. Most people wouldn’t be able to catch it if they never spent their nights stargazing or moongazing before, but there was this quivering circle of light around the bright white orb that caught Armaros’ attention. Armaros found his stomach in a knot now. He wanted to smack himself upside the head. There was no way he was going out there to find BB!  Armaros didn't care about him anyway, so why would he bother getting involved? Though... he did need to apologize for earlier, but that was beside the point.

He repeated this mantra in his head, trying to convince himself that he was better off minding his own business and not getting caught up in whatever trouble BB had gotten himself into. However, the more Armaros stared at the moon’s quivering ring, Mew’s nagging, and the annoying ache in his stomach, he really couldn’t help it anymore. What if BB really was in trouble? What if his family was actually trying to tell him that something is up that only he can mediate? On top of that, despite knowing how twisted he is, he knew he wasn’t heartless.

With a groan and an eye-roll, Armaros begrudgingly marched away from the window, fetching where he saw his clothes in the bathroom. He never thought he wouldn’t appreciate the comfort of his own clothes. He settled Mew one last time before he closed the window behind him and marched up the fire escape to the rooftop, ignoring the slight limp he had. Armaros held onto his hat as the wind blew against his body, double-jumping onto and gliding down several buildings as he tried to find BB. Armaros felt like a fool the farther into the sleeping city he trod into.

He walked across a random rooftop as he lit up a cigarette for a quick smoke break, huffing out a puff of nicotine into the air. He looked up at the night sky. “So, you’re gonna tell me something is wrong, and not even tell me where the problem is?” sighed Armaros, rolling his eyes. He stretched, feeling oddly helpless. For all he knew, BB could be on the other side of Brooklyn for all he cared! As Armaros neared the edge of the roof, he simply spread his wing and let himself fall, gliding onto another rooftop. “Father, if you think this is funny, it’s not,” grumbled Armaros, taking another drag. He didn’t understand what even compelled him to go out and find BB.

Perhaps it was the answer to why fate decided to have BB wake him up with Cheez-Its earlier. He stubbed out his cigarette when he arrived at a more quieter side of the city, the streets empty and void of humans. The only things resembling some form of life on the streets were the swaying leaves on the sidewalks and the tall streetlamps. He looked between the alleyways and sketchy-looking places of the town, but there weren’t many signs of any disturbances. “Michael?” called Armaros, raising his voice a little bit. He sighed at no response; what was he even doing? His wing fluttered behind him irritatingly as he jumped onto another rooftop, his leg starting to strain a little.

Armaros growled under his breath, his leg twitching from his still-healing wound. He was starting to regret this… He could feel his family’s eyes on him as he sat on the rooftop, gently rolling up the right sleeve of his jeans and grazing a finger over the stitches. He sighed, feeling it heat up before covering it again. He stood up with a grunt and scratched his head. Just where was this guy anyway?!

Suddenly, Armaros shuddered as his vision shook for a second. He whipped around with wide eyes. That was negative energy, and that could only mean one thing. “Michael!” yelled out Armaros as he ran toward the energy. He knew he was going in the right direction from how much his stomach would churn as he neared BB’s possible location. The dirty, metallic scent of blood only made things worse as he came closer. He jumped onto another rooftop where he heard grunting and cries of restraint coming from below and peered over the edge. It was a sketchy back alley with plenty of room, scraps, crates, and graffiti on the cold-coloured brick walls.

Bingo.

“You’re a psycho!” a woman cried, her features concealed with a black scarf that covered her ash-blonde hair and the bottom half of her face. On the opposing side was none other than BB himself. Armaros raised a brow at his appearance. His hair was down, his hat tossed somewhere... hood barely clinging onto his head. Things looked really messy which made Armaros inch back a little. Why did Heaven lead him here?

“Psycho ? Is that the best name you have in your arsenal?” sneered BB, his voice sounding a little echoey as he twirled his straight-edged knife in his fingers. The woman coughed out blood as she crumbled to her knees, feeling weak. BB smirked as a hot breath left his mouth. “Shit...” winced the woman. She quivered when she heard BB getting closer, gasping when she was pinned down by the throat. “ You’ll pay for what you did to my family,” snarled BB, his grip tightening as he watched the woman try to escape. He forced her back on the floor, hitting her skull against the concrete. His hood flew off at the movement, revealing his face as bright yet dark, glowing magenta eyes made their appearance instead of ghostly whites.

Armaros’s eyes widened as alarms went off in his head. That wasn’t BB; That was a ghost. BB was possessed. This wasn’t good at all. BB truly is an idiot for this; he was about to kill someone!

Chapter Text

Armaros didn’t know what he was doing. All he felt was the moonlight shining down on him, filling him with energy before he screamed. “OUT!” he cried furiously as he jumped down from his spot, his right eye flashing red. He directed the energy he was given towards BB. “OUT OF HIM!”

BB flinched before he was pulled back by an invisible force, screaming in pain which gave the woman a chance to escape. The woman scampered away, gasping for air in a daze. “AGH!!!” roared BB as his eyes remained magenta, the ghost keeping its hold on its host. Armaros grimaced as his eyes remained on BB. “Idiot... You’re a fucking idiot, Michael!” he shouted. He watched as BB stood up, furiously glaring at Armaros. “And you’re a meddlin' fool!” snarled the spirit as he threw BB’s knife at Armaros. The fallen angel was luckily no stranger to violence.

His feathers hardened on instinct and he whipped the projectile to the side with his wing, hissing as he felt a few feathers get sliced. The moment he uncovered himself, BB was ready to pounce on him with his spiked bat. He immediately stepped back and covered with his wing as he put a knee on the ground for stability, grunting as he was pushed back a little. Armaros flared his wing, causing BB to fumble back a few meters with a cry of surprise.

It didn’t take long for BB to regain his footing, however. He has been doing this for a year after all. BB charged at Armaros with renewed vigour, swinging his spiked bat with deadly intent. Armaros ducked and weaved, his movements fluid and precise as he dodged the incoming attacks.

He knew he couldn't afford to make any mistakes against BB, not when the stakes were this high. Armaros couldn’t exactly take the offensive approach, which frustrated him. “Michael, do you even know what the hell you’re—WOAH–!” screamed Armaros as he was thrown onto the floor, rolling across the dirty concrete. That certainly wasn’t pleasing.

“You’re ruining everything! This is my moment to avenge my family!” shouted the spirit, making BB’s voice echo eerily over Armaros’s yell. Armaros really couldn’t believe this. He coughed as he jumped to his feet, letting his right eye flash as he growled at BB. “Get out of him!” he demanded at the ghost, swinging his arm to the side as if physically trying to pull the ghost out. BB’s body shook as he let out another agonizing scream. BB clutched his head, his bloodstained hands nearly pulling out his hair from his scalp. He could see BB’s eyes flicker from magenta to white. “B-Bird...-AGH–!” gasped BB before his eyes went back to magenta.

Darn it.

“SHUT UP!” roared the spirit, BB’s face red with fury. “Michael Silvers, listen to me!” huffed Armaros as he ducked from an incoming lunge to the side. He caught something sharp and shiny from the corner of his eye— BB’s knife— and jumped out of the way again towards the object, picking it up. He twirled it in his hands as he swiped his hand in front of his head to block an incoming punch, accidentally cutting a shallow, but long cut against BB’s arm. He didn’t mean for that to happen. As the blade made contact with BB's arm, a flash of pain crossed his face, mingling with the fury in his eyes. Armaros could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on him; as much as he hated BB, he didn't want to hurt him, not really.

BB staggered back, clutching his wounded arm, his breathing ragged. The ghost inside him seemed momentarily weakened by the injury, its hold faltering. Armaros seized the opportunity, his voice finding power again. “This is your last chance! GET OUT!” he roared, his wing flaring as the moon’s light seemed to brighten into the space. BB coughed, his eyes blown wide as a wicked grin spread on his face. “Not until justice is served,” he snarled behind a held-back cry of pain as he charged towards him.

Armaros braced himself as BB lunged forward, his spiked bat aimed at Armaros’s head, and time seemed to slow down as Armaros focused all his energy on evading the attack. With a swift movement, he sidestepped, narrowly dodging the swing as the bat whooshed past him, the rush of air brushing against his skin.

Seizing the moment, Armaros countered with a swift kick aimed at BB’s midsection. His boot connected with BB's ribs with a satisfying thud, causing him to double over in pain. He then took BB by the arm, switching to his supernatural strength and sent BB flying and tumbling into a wall of wooden crates to buy himself time.

He turned around, expecting to help the woman that BB nearly murdered earlier, only for him to freeze when he saw another figure at her side. The woman seemed to have passed out from the injuries. “Hey!” called Armaros, running over to them. The other figure gasped and put their arm in front of the woman protectively. When the person snarled at Armaros, it was clear that it was a male. Armaros immediately dropped BB’s knife and used his foot to slide it a few inches away from him. He took the time to scan the person who was waiting to pounce on him if he showed any signs of further threat. He had to be one of BB’s targets if BB had gone after him and the woman. Armaros’s eyes caught a small tattoo on the man’s wrist—a sketched heart with a crown circling around the left bump with watercoloured blood under it and "ink stains". He’d never seen a tattoo like that before.

“Are you two alright?” he asked, keeping his hands in the air. “You... You aren’t going to kill us like that psycho, right?” replied the man. Armaros’s eyes widened at how young the male sounded. He shook his head and lowered his hands, keeping one up to rub the back of his neck. “O-of course not... You’re supposed to be handed in for the police... alive, ” said Armaros, his gaze softening.

“And what? You gonna cuff us?” sneered the man. Armaros let his curiosity get the better of him. “...How old are you?” he hummed.

The criminal in front of him gulped as he scanned the angel for any signs of distrust due to Armaros dodging the question, but found nothing. The man hesitated for a moment, perhaps surprised by the unexpected question from someone who had just intervened in a life-threatening situation. After a beat, he replied, his voice a mixture of defiance and vulnerability, "F-fifteen..."

What?

This target of BB’s was a kid! Armaros couldn't help but notice the flicker of fear in the man's eyes, hidden behind a facade of bravado. “And your name?” he inquired gently, hoping to establish a connection and diffuse any remaining tension.

The man's shoulders tensed slightly, but he eventually answered, “Luke.”

Armaros couldn’t help the small smile that tugged on his lips. That name reminded him of another person he knew back in Heaven. “And her... She your friend?” hummed Armaros, his gaze flickering between Luke and the woman. Luke shook his head. “Nah... Older sis. She's seventeen,” he replied, looking down. Armaros felt like knowing this made him feel disgusted at BB. He was about to kill someone’s sibling in front of them, all because of a single ghost that he couldn’t fight! How much worse was this situation going to be? A lot worse.

Luke and Armaros cringed when they heard the sound of wooden planks shift, followed by a frustrated grunt. “Shit...” hissed Armaros, looking behind him and quickly looking back to Luke and his unconscious sister. He stepped closer and crouched to their level. “Alright, Luke, I need you to listen to me...” he began quickly. He was running out of time the more he heard the shifting of heavy planks behind him. The words that escaped his lips would surely make BB rip his head off for this. “Take your sister and get outta' here.”

Luke's eyes widened in disbelief at Armaros's words. “But what about you?” he stammered, his voice laced with fear and uncertainty. Armaros shrugged casually. “Well, I know a thing or two about dealing with idiots,” he scoffed.

It managed to get a chuckle out of Luke. The planks then moved again, followed by an angry growl. Armaros urged the boy and watched him hastily pick up his sister and gave him a nod of thanks. “You’re a real one, man... I’ll owe you one day,” said Luke before rushing from the scene and not looking back. Just as Armaros saw the siblings turn the corner, his attention was brought back to a wooden plank behind thrown and jabbing him right in the side. Armaros screamed as he flew right into the wall, his hand clutching his aching side that would probably bruise later.

Whatever ghost possessed BB must have been something of a higher power if it managed to withstand the salt content inside BB’s body to play him on strings like this. The strength increase was almost up to Armaros’s supernatural standards, but it wasn’t like Armaros could use that same strength against BB during the whole fight. BB was still a mortal, and Armaros was not up for making another accident, so he was stuck using his mortal strength. Armaros winced as he felt a shadow loom over him furiously as he struggled to get up. He howled in pain when he felt the spikes on BB’s weapon smash against his head, knocking his glasses off. Armaros gasped, his world spinning as he tumbled to the side. He could feel something thick and wet trickle from the side of his head that he reached up to touch. Armaros let out an angry huff as he saw crimson stain his fingers. His wing flared out again to block another incoming swing, groaning at the impact as he reached for his glasses and put them back on. He watched his appendage shake from holding up against BB’s bat before tucking it in and rolling to the side.

Armaros then lunged for the knife he set aside and stood up, holding the weapon in a defensive stance. He shivered under the oppressing air of the ghost that was placed on BB, watching his eyes turn a darker shade of magenta. How dark BB looked at him caused Armaros to flare his wing again, but this time as if trying to look bigger than him and his eyes turned red, pupils thinning into slits. It reminded him of the many nights he experienced when he first fell from grace; the times when drunkards, gangs, and randos beat him up for fun in dark alleyways like this one, and this time, the assaulter was BB.

The fallen angel’s hand shook as he let out a shaky breath, taking steps back while BB took some forward. “You— ” thundered BB, “— Filthy FUCK!”

BB sped up his pace and charged at Armaros, swinging his bat again which Armaros blocked with his arm and landed a swift slice to BB’s side. Armaros moved behind BB, getting out of the corner that he was close to being backed up against as BB’s pained growl echoed through the space.

“Do you know how long I’ve been pestering this mortal just so I could get my justice?!” roared the spirit, whipping BB around and throwing another wooden plank at Armaros. Armaros ducked just in time, the plank sailing over his head and crashing into a pile of crates behind him. He flinched at the loud, rattling thud behind him before diverting his attention to BB who was already about to pounce on him. “No, I don’t, and I don’t care— UGH!” hollered Armaros as he blocked a kick with his wing, feeling the weight close in on him before flinging BB back. BB’s boots scratched the ground, his eyes never leaving Armaros’s form as he made another assault. 

Armaros blocked and countered repeatedly, stepping back while BB kept the offence. The ghost knew what Armaros was trying to do, and didn’t want to take any chances on defence. “Michael, please!” furiously begged Armaros as he shielded himself with his wing again from another swing from BB’s bat, "I don't—" He jumped back to create distance before dancing around another brute swing. "—Want to—" He scrambled right into a wall as he evaded yet another deadly punch. "—Fight you!" He could hear BB grunt at the contact with his fist to the brick wall, holding his breath as he thought how much that could have hurt. 

BB was stuck on strings and Armaros had no idea how to pin down the ghost. Armaros grew frustrated; the heavens gave him a power boost to exorcise BB, yet he couldn’t even get close anymore! This was becoming a game of back and forth. He shook as he whipped around just in time to cut off another swing, hissing when the knife’s edge hooked onto BB’s sleeve, tearing a gaping hole into it. That was a close one. 

However, it got stuck, allowing BB to pull Armaros in and sock him right in the jaw. That was the second one in less than a month, and it hurt even more than the last time! As Armaros’s head swung to the right, his body flew with him. He wasn’t thrilled when he heard BB laugh at him manically. “Is that it? I expected better from a disgrace,” mocked the spirit, BB’s voice making Armaros growl. He wasn't going to give the ghost the satisfaction of a response, so he wiped the blood off his chin before countering another smack with BB’s bat. He let out a strained cry, his wing shaking as his feet slowly slid back while some feathers were scraped from their spot from the bat’s barbs. BB let out a breath, a sick grin twisting into his face.

This wasn’t good on Armaros’s end.

With a frustrated huff, the fallen angel’s right eye flashed red before he flung BB off. Finding an opening was harder than he thought. He ducked under another flying plank of splintered wood. Armaros's face contorted with rage as he lunged at BB hard enough that the bat managed to fly far out of BB's reach. He crushed him against the wall as BB struggled in his grasp. "STOP IT!" he growled. He was determined to finish the job this time, but he wasn’t sure why he was so determined to free BB in the first place anymore.

Was it because Heaven told him to? Was it because the thought of Mew losing his owner that set that churning off in his stomach? Was it because this was Armaros’ chance to do something good? Or was it because... Armaros started to give a damn? But, that didn’t matter, however. Even if Armaros did care, he didn’t know why, and he probably never would come to understand why he was doing this. At least, not now.

BB landed a punch to Armaros's groin—a dick move—causing the fallen to recoil and drop his knife. “Suck my ass!” growled the spirit before turning Armaros's strength against him and threw him off. Armaros grunted as he toppled over, somersaulting backwards to quickly regain himself just as BB were to pounce on him. He got his wing ready and shielded himself for a brief moment then landed an angeled uppercut, knocking BB's mask right off. There was some sort of satisfaction upon seeing BB bend backwards and cough his ass off. Armaros took advantage of the momentary disorientation and grabbed BB by the collar, slamming him against the nearest crate with a force that dared to break the wood underneath him. BB let out a shout of pain, but his eyes burned with defiance as he struggled against Armaros's grip, gritting his teeth.

“You think you can just waltz in here and play hero?” spat the spirit, BB’s voice dripping with venom. “You don't know anything about me or what I've been through!”

Armaros tightened his grip, his jaw clenching. “Maybe not, but I know enough to know that whatever grudge you're holdin' onto isn't worth sacrificing innocent lives for,” he snarled. “Innocent?! Those people ain't innocent!” roared the spirit, BB shaking as he grabbed Armaros by the collar as well, only for his body to emit ghostly particles as if burning him. A flash of pain flickered upon BB’s face as Armaros flinched, throwing BB to the ground behind him. BB let go of the fallen angel from the sudden swing, grunting as he harshly rolled against the ground.

Armaros was a little shaken up by the sudden grab; he didn’t mean to toss BB that harshly. But what just happened? He looked at his shirt where it was all wrinkled, only to see that his necklace was part of that mess. He blinked as he let his gaze flicker to BB’s recovering body, then back to his necklace. His cross pendant seemed to be outlined with a very dim and faint glow, matching the particles emanating off BB’s body. BB shook as his breathing became ragged. BB’s eyes were flickering weakly from magenta to white again as if the ghost was slowly slipping from its control. “Y-you...” stammered the ghost, still keeping its hold on BB’s body.

Armaros knew what to do now.

He tugged off his necklace, risking himself a little. He had to get this necklace around BB’s neck somehow. BB growled as the particles stopped, immediately releasing the strength to launch towards Armaros. Armaros gripped his necklace as he twirled the pendant around his fist, hoping to have his punches weaken BB so he could get it on him. As BB lunged at him, Armaros deftly sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the attack. With a swift movement, he swung his fist, aiming for BB's midsection. The blow landed with a satisfying thud, causing BB to stagger sideways. More particles erupted from his body, though, it still wasn’t enough.

“Ughhh...!” grunted the spirit, holding onto the side where the pendant had collided with BB. “I warned you,” snarled Armaros as he flared his wing. BB growled, angrily storming to Armaros and parrying with him, dodging the fist holding the pendant. Armaros screamed when BB pulled his arm back, twisting it harshly before kicking him from behind, sending him crashing onto the floor. He ignored the knot in his arm’s socket as he gasped, feeling the scruff of his coat lift him up. “Not so high and mighty now, huh?” taunted the ghost.

Armaros spat out some blood, shaking his head to fling off some dirt that stuck to his face. Seeing as being violent wasn’t helping, he had to... perhaps treat BB like the idiot he called him. “I never said I was,” he huffed, letting his body feign relaxation. This took the ghost by surprise. “What are you doing?” it asked. “Giving up. What does it look like I’m doing?” muttered Armaros.

The ghost seemed taken aback by Armaros's sudden change in demeanour. It hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. Armaros took advantage of the ghost's confusion and relaxed a little more to throw it off guard. With a weak sigh, Armaros let the ghost hold onto him tightly as much as he didn’t want to be touched right now. “You want justice, right?” he said softly, his voice cutting through the tension in the air. BB's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he didn't move to attack. "Of course I do," replied the spirit, BB’s voice laced with bitterness.

Armaros nodded, his gaze unwavering. “Then let me help you,” he said. BB’s grip seemed to tighten, but it wasn’t as harsh as Armaros would have expected. “Help me?” it echoed, disbelief colouring its tone. Armaros nodded. “Yes. Let me help you find the justice you seek, but not like this,” he explained, gesturing to the chaos around them.

The ghost seemed to consider Armaros's words for a moment, the rage in his eyes starting to wane. "How do I know I can trust you?" it demanded, BB’s voice tinged with uncertainty. That’s Armaros smirked, mentally patting himself on the shoulder. His right eye seemed to shimmer a bright red as he looked back at BB’s possessed magenta eyes. “You don’t,” sneered Armaros before twisting his way out of BB’s grasp with a grunt and wrapping his necklace around BB’s neck.

BB gasped as Armaros struck him by the ribs, pushing him back, then pushing him again even more harshly, right into the moonlight. The white light made BB groan as he shielded himself from it. “You really are an idiot!” laughed Armaros as he watched the moon’s rays waver, “Have a safe trip.”

The ghost as little time to react as Armaros snapped his fingers and the necklace started reacting, thin strings of gold light coming out of the cross and weaving around BB like chains. The fallen angel watched triumphantly as BB slowly collapsed to his knees, grunting in agony, his magenta gaze weakening. The moon showered the bloody scene, making BB clutch the side of his head a little bit. “What... What is this...?” hissed the spirit, over BB’s groans. Armaros remained silent as BB screamed and brought a hand to his chest, his body curling on itself as ghostly particles were pulled from his body. Finally, BB’s body was outlined in gold as he let out a guttural cry, the ghost fizzling into the air like smoke and never to return.

Armaros sighed with relief, his body slumping slightly. His vision shook, the adrenaline dissipating as he stared down at BB’s spent body, watching him stir. His eyes changed back to their familiar golden hue and more human look as BB opened his eyes. The pearly heavens that made up his gaze looked around groggily and confusedly. “Birdbrain...?” groaned BB as he slowly regained himself. He managed to spot Armaros’s bloodied wing from the bottom of his gaze as he was barely looking up. BB sat up, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes. He raised a brow, scanning the area where only the two of them were present. “...Where are they?” he asked. Armaros looked away, biting his tongue nervously.

“Birdbrain, those guys are important. Where are they?” demanded BB again, grunting as he stood up. “They... I let them go,” replied Armaros, a little too quickly for comfort. BB blinked as he tried to register the angel's words before yelling, “You what?!”

Armaros flinched. “I had to! You were possessed and–!”

BB gave him no room to talk. He had been hunting these people for days now, nonstop. “I needed to be because there were two of them! These criminals are deadly dangerous, high pay, and the police trusted me enough to hunt them down!” hollered BB, letting his fatigue speak for him. “So, not even a thank you?” scoffed Armaros with disbelief. “The money and the police’s trust is what matters right now?”

Armaros wiped his dirty face and shook his head. “And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” roared BB, tilting his head angrily, “You know I work my ass off each night to find these guys, Birdbrain. Do you know who they are?”

BB watched the fallen angel remain silent and simply shake his head. “Popularity killers, that’s what! They target newbies to the top artists, and you’re telling me that you let them go?!” he screamed again. “Michael, if you can just let me–” slowly muttered Armaros, but again, BB didn’t let him. “No, all you do is come up with excuses, Birdbrain! I knew I shouldn’t have taken you back to my apartment, because I should have known that all you cause for me is—!”

Armaros snapped.  “—EXPLAIN MYSELF!” he roared his eyes turning dark and menacing. His breath was shaky as he had not yelled like that in a while. BB stopped. “Your possessed walking corpse of an ass was about to kill someone’s older sibling in front of them!” hissed Armaros. His injured wing fell limp and his side as bloody tears dared to emerge from his eyes. BB blinked, his retort dying on his tongue. Armaros’s head spun with each word as he recalled his first mission with BB. “Liar…” he whispered.

“You’ve grown.”

“You lied...” whispered Armaros.

“Keep it up!”

“You’re a damn liar, Michael,” he grimaced.

“Looks like you got a little bit of good in you still. Hope it can have the chance to shine more.”

Armaros could feel his halo melt under his bloody and dirtied hat as he shut his eyes to hold back his filthy tears. “I saved you from becoming like me, and you dare to lecture me?” laughed Armaros, though it wasn’t a sound of joy. Those words left bile in his mouth. BB huffed. “Becoming like you? I am nothing like you. Like you can do anything good!” he snarled. Armaros couldn't help but physically recoil; he just did something good... didn't he? This was... Was this not something good? “Oh, is that so?” growled Armaros, “If I didn’t come after you tonight, you would’ve done the same thing I did in front of your midget brother! You would have lost everything, and you would have become a monster to everyone around you! The boy was fifteen, and that woman— that was his older sister, and she was SEVENTEEN, Michael! What happened to them being people too?!"

BB balled his hands into fists as he avoided Armaros’s gaze. He froze when he heard a small sniffle. Was... Armaros crying? “How dare you give me false hope, tellin' me I’ve gotten better, that I’m still good, when all you really think of me is trouble for you! You should be fucking thankful I even had the heart to find you!” cried the fallen angel, his voice roaring slightly before it mellowed out into a weaker tone. His pupils narrowed into slits for just a moment, quivering, then rounding out again. “But, y’know what? You’re right; like I can do any good.”

BB looked up to meet Armaros’s teary, bloody gaze that looked at him bitterly upon hearing a quiet sigh escape him. His eyes widened slightly; he didn’t think he’d seen Armaros look so defeated before. Not even during the night he came back to try and kill him again. There was something about those golden eyes that kept BB’s words from coming up, and he didn’t like that. Armaros hissed as he wiped his face with his sleeve. “...That’s what I thought,” he frowned, shrugging before he walked sharply past BB and out of the crime scene.

BB remained frozen in his spot, the wind whispering melancholically in his ears. He sighed, running his gloved hand through his hair as he tiredly looked around. He saw his bat and knife glimmering in the moonlight, limping over and grunting as he bent down to pick them up. His eyes laid on Armaros’s cross pendant that was still wrapped around his neck from the exorcism and bit back a scowl. He couldn’t help but feel weak. BB shook his head and quickly dug out his cell, texting the police about what happened. Of course, he couldn’t tell anything about his secret to finding these criminals so easily, so he lied, saying that the criminals knocked him out and got away. The police didn’t seem to mind when BB got the officer’s reply, which was good on his end. He leaned against the cold brick wall, sinking to the floor. He groaned as he looked at his left hand which was bloodied with torn flesh.

He doesn’t even remember when he got that, but it was hot and throbbing. The air stank the more he returned to his senses, making him want to vomit. He couldn’t even get up on his own right now, and there was no way he’d be able to head home like this. BB shook his head as he gave up on trying to stand, his muscles shaking the moment he put pressure on them. He flicked through his contacts and hovered over a particular number. He usually never liked asking for help from his family when it came to his hunts, but he didn’t have much of a choice. However, if he had to choose someone, he had to go with whom he was closest.

BB let the phone drop on the concrete as he waited. “Mikey? What’s up?” said the voice on the other side of the line. BB raised a brow. “Khole? You sound wide awake,” he coughed a little, hearing BS sigh. “And you sound worse for wear,” she seemed to huff, “Cut the bull, brother, I can feel the aching from over here.”

“Uhm, yeah, about that… Heh, if you don’t mind, could you pick me up, sis? I… can’t get up,” muttered BB. “...Seriously, you always get yourself into trouble,” pouted BS, clicking her tongue. “Is that a yes or a no?” whined BB, rolling his eyes. It was silent on the other side of the line for a little bit, BB trying his best to be patient for an answer. “...You’re lucky we’re twins. Turn on your location, and I'll be there in ten. Just don't bleed out before I get there," she said, her voice tinged with sarcasm and a hint of concern. BB couldn't help but crack a small smirk. "Thanks, sis. And uh, bring some bandages or something, and a mask. It stinks in here,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant despite the pain coursing through his body. He looked around the wrecked scenery, sighing into the speaker. "And help me find my hat n' mask too, will ya'?"

BS scoffed softly. “You're such a piece of work, y'know that? See you soon,” she said before ending the call. BB coughed again as he let out a low grunt, massaging his thigh from the strain. He can only imagine the look on his sister’s face when she sees all this mess. He recalled that ‘I’m so done with you’ expression that never failed to make him feel small and laugh nervously whenever he saw it, but that wasn’t important right now.

What was important was that BB got patched up, had some sleep, and had time to think... Time to think about what the hell just happened tonight. He was sure to get a scolding in the morning, though. That is unavoidable.

Chapter Text

BB didn’t think that the taste of coffee could get any more bitter despite the unholy amount of sugar he just put into it. He watched and listened to BS ramble to her angel best friend, Bestie, about last night’s scene. It didn’t help that Bestie was also his sister's housemate, so on the get-go, she would just ramble to her about the stupid things he did. He usually didn't mind since they were close, but... This time, he somewhat did.

“I’m right here,” grumbled BB, glaring tiredly at BS. He ran his bandaged hand down his face, trying to ignore the rays of the morning sun. If he were being honest, if he didn’t have his beloved cat waiting for him at home, he still would have been out like a light right now. “Hypocrite. You did this all the time when we were kids,” pouted BS, flipping a skewer of seasoned fish on the stove. The morning breeze flew through the open windows, the scent of carnations filling the house. “Yeah, because it was funny,” sighed BB with a slight snicker, circling his mug with his finger. He heard Bestie scoff which caused him to roll his eyes before she even said anything.

“Oh yeah, just as funny as it was to find you as if you just showered in a massacre,” said Bestie with a hint of sarcasm as her small white and gold wings fluttered. BB considered her lucky that BS was around, otherwise, he would have ignored the loss of energy he had to snap back completely. He loved and cared for his twin sister to the point that his respect for her overrode his current mood. "Well, y'know me, Eva..." whispered BB, his voice still a little raspy from being tired. He then focused on BS; he could see the concern etched into her features, mirrored in the furrow of her brow and the way her fingers nervously tapped against the countertop. “You're not still upset about last night, are you?" asked BS, putting a new batch of skewers on the stove. BB shrugged, trying to play it off. “Of course not. Just tired, that's all.”

But BS was aware. She knew him better than anyone and could read him like a book with dog-eared pages and worn covers. “I’m kiddin'. It’s hard not to, considering how a ghost managed to get past the salt content in your body,” shrugged BS as she turned to face BB, "Kinda shockin' considering the amount of salty shit you eat. You're a threat to a demon's diet."

She watched her brother slump in his stool, practically melting against the counter with a sigh. “A lovely reminder, yes,” muttered BB. Bestie raised a brow, genuinely curious. “I’m guessing you lost to it again?” she interjected, taking a sip of her water. BB suppressed a retort. “Duh. There were two criminals,” he replied, trying his best to hide a sneer, “And for... kids, they sure are strong. Dunno what they’re made of, really.”

Bestie nearly spat out her water. eyes widened as she stared at BB, horrified. “KIDS?!” she shrieked. The twins flinched at the sudden rise of voice. “Teens, sorry! Fifteen and seventeen,” corrected BB. “And they were on the hunting list? What kind of murderer society is the police askin' ya' to track down?” asked BS, full of disbelief. She turned back to the stove to flip the skewers. BB grumbled, the coffee clearly not helping him. “Let’s just forget it, sis. I don’t know, and I don’t care,” he huffed.

Bestie sighed, shaking her head. She firmly put down her glass and folded her arms. "Mikey, this is serious. You could've ended up in—!"

"JAIL! I know... Thanks for stating the obvious, Evangeline!" snapped BB, sighing sharply as he rested his forehead against his fingers. Bestie flinched at BB's tone and shrunk in her spot, looking at the floor. BS shot her brother a sharp look, her expression a mixture of annoyance and concern. "Brother, that's enough. You're fine—at least for now," she said firmly, her tone brooking no argument. She frowned and handed Bestie a skewer with an apologetic smile while BB simply clicked his tongue and swirled his overly-sweetened coffee, staring down at the dark whirlpool in his mug. “Right, yeah. Sorry... or whatever,” he sighed downing the rest of it.

Bestie smiled as she mouthed a small "thanks" to BS before looking back at BB with a smile. She knew BB had a stressful week altogether, so she'll let that apology pass for now. “It's alright. Anyway, you’re planning to head home after breakfast?” she asked as she took a bite of her skewer, her eyes lighting up at her roommate's tasty cooking. BB shrugged. “I mean, I got no choice—Mew’s probably croonin’ for food right about now,” he replied, his mind wandering to the familiar comfort of his apartment, where his fluffy companion awaited his return. Mew was always there to greet him with enthusiastic meows and gentle head bumps, regardless of the hour. 

Yeah... he could really use some of that right about now. That, and more sleep.

“Then, what are you waitin’ for? Go feed him!” said Bestie. “Yeah, yeah, Eva. I’m dippin’,” mumbled BB, standing up with a grunt to place his mug in the sink. He quickly rinsed it out with a soapy sponge before drying off his hands. “Need a ride, or you gonna take the bus?” asked BS, ignoring the little jabs. BB shrugged. “Whatever gets me home faster,” he said. BS simply laughed and loaded a new batch of food. “A speedy bike ride home it is then,” she chuckled. BB looked over BS’s shoulder and stole two cooked skewers off the plate she was holding as he kissed her cheek before going to get his things. “Stuff's in the bathroom—just use that duffle bag under my bed, and you can wear my PJs home, no biggie!” called BS as BB marched up the stairs. She already knew what her brother was going to do.

“Thanks!” he replied with his mouth full of fish. He wandered into the bathroom where he found his cleaned and patched-up bounty clothes neatly folded on the counter. His bat and knife weren’t too far away either as the bathroom light caused the metals to glimmer in the corners of his eyes. He sighed, grabbed his things and walked into BS’s room, grunting as he slowly got on his knees to search under the bed for that bag.

The bag he pulled out was nude pink. It had not many pockets, but it was simple enough for the usual necessities, but larger. He carefully unwrapped the barbed wire around his bat, ensuring it didn’t catch on his bandaged hand, before rolling it into a rag. He stuffed his clothes inside alongside his knife, hat, and wire on top, sighing deeply.

He sluggishly moved to snatch the zip-up hoodie to cover himself before swinging the bag over his shoulder and placing the bat on top.

At least being seen with a clean bat would make it look like he was coming home from an overnight baseball game instead of a bloody hunt. He passed by BS’s mirror, shaking his head wildly before pushing his hair back, and scanning himself. The PJs he borrowed from BS were a little small, but they still were comfortable to wear—the classic plaid pyjama pants and a cropped T-shirt. He was now chewing on an empty skewer stick as he wondered what he could snag when he got home. Or maybe he could order in. He subconsciously rubbed his hands on his sides to soothe the rumbling ache—he really needed to eat now.

His gaze then fell on the cross necklace he was still wearing from last night. It still had a bit of a smudge mark on it. BB swore he could feel a little bit of a chill radiating from it.

“You’re a damn liar, Michael.”

BB rubbed his temples frustratingly at the angel’s voice that refused to leave his head. He huffed. With one final shake of his head, he pulled out his phone and skipped his way downstairs. BB glanced around the cozy living room as he went to the front door, his eyes momentarily lingering on the familiar trinkets and pictures that adorned the walls. Despite the tension and the bitter taste of the morning’s interactions, there was a small part of him that appreciated the warmth and familiarity of his sister's home.

He caught BS standing by the door with two helmets ready to go. “Ready to go? You can hook your bat on the back—I’m sure I still have some rope hangin’ on it,” said BS, noticing him approaching. She tossed him the spare helmet. BB caught the helmet, nodding appreciatively. “Yeah, thanks. Saves me the hassle of potentially losing it on the road when you zoom me to death,” he scoffed, clearly joking. “Piece of shit,” giggled BS as she gave her twin a light punch to the arm, “I don’t drive that fast.”

“Bitch, say that to my hair’s tangles,” snorted BB. “I thought you loved it messy,” teased BS, patting BB towards the door before looking over at Besite who was stealing a few more skewers with a cheeky giggle. “Don't get your feathers on the floor while I'm gone!” pouted BS as she opened the door. “Oh, you make me want to spite you,” snickered Bestie, “No crashin', alright? Can’t pay these bills alone.”

BS rolled her eyes playfully with a laugh before putting an arm around BB to guide him outside. The twins walked down the perron and onto the sidewalk, the morning sun kissing their skin. The parking lot was behind the building where BS’s motorbike was. BB placed his arm around his sister’s shoulder, sighing as he dragged himself to the back of the buildings. It was a silent walk, but at least there was less tension. Finally, BS spoke. “Y’know... we’re gonna have to talk about this, right?” she said, giving her brother a knowing look. BB chuckled nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I know, sis, I know. Ya' didn’t like what'cha saw last night,” he replied, sighing slightly.

“And you stank,” added BS, “But...the point is, I know you’re hidin' somethin'.”

Hiding what? BB was genuinely a little confused. “Hiding...?” repeated BB, raising a brow as he anticipated his sister’s reply.  “That necklace isn’t yours, and if you were to say you found it on the streets and kept it, I highly doubt it. Someone was with you,” finished BS. “My targets, yeah,” muttered BB, earning him a nudge. BB held back a groan from the contact, his cheeks reddening as he knew that he was busted. BS rolled her eyes. “There were torn feathers on the floor. Feathers that looked oddly familiar,”  she said sharply. She watched BB seemingly hold his breath, trying his best to look anywhere but at her. BS’s alarms immediately went off. “...Michael, please don’t tell me—”

“O-okay, okay! Alright, Khole, you got me, but... please, it’s not what you think!” stammered BB, putting his hands in the air defensively. This was the only downside of having a twin, in BB’s opinion; He couldn’t hide anything from his sister, especially her. BB’s nervous stammering only intensified BS’s suspicion. She stopped walking, forcing him to do the same, and turned to face him fully, her eyes narrowed in that familiar way that meant she wasn’t about to let him off the hook. “Not what I think? Michael, you’re walkin' around with a cross necklace that—I can assume—belongs to your murderer! What exactly am I supposed to think?”

BB sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, Khole, it’s complicated, okay? I’ve... been with him for the past week, keepin’ him in my apartment.”

BS rubbed her forehead. “So you kidnapped him for revenge?” she asked, glaring at her brother. “What—NO! Just let me finish, alright?” grumbled BB, watching BS  cross her arms, clearly waiting for more information. “It better be good,” she sighed. “Oh, it’s good, alright,” scoffed BB sarcastically. He took a moment to compose himself, his hands messing with the zipper of his sister’s zip-up that he was wearing. He wasn’t entirely sure how to explain it to his sister, but he had to say something at least. BB took a deep breath. “So...the full thing or last night?” he began. BS's eyes narrowed further as she tried to parse BB's words. “Let's start with last night,” she said. “Then we'll move onto the 'full thing'—though I'm not sure I want to hear it.”

BB exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of his sister’s gaze on him. “Alright, so... last night. I was tracking down the two criminals, yeah? But I didn’t expect that they’d be so young and...they had this weird kind of strength, like nothing I’ve seen before. Had to be possessed, but the salt didn’t hold on me.”

BS nodded slowly, still processing. “Go on...” she hummed.

“I had an unwanted takeover and I almost killed one of them if it weren’t for that Birdbrain headin’ out to find me for some reason I don’t know,” continued BB, fiddling with the cross necklace. There was this odd aura coming from it that he didn’t want to admit that soothed him slightly—a soft chill that cooled his heated, healing and battered left hand. “He used his necklace to free me, but uhm... I was kinda caught up on getting the job done, so when he told me he let ‘em go, I sorta…”

“No, all you do is come up with excuses, Birdbrain!  I  knew  I  shouldn’t have taken you back to my apartment, because I should  have  known  that  all you cause for me is—!”

BB winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “I lost it on him and he... ran off,” he finished. BS blinked. She was surprised that BB’s killer went out of his way to save him, and she had to admit that some sort of seed had been planted. “And him being in your apartment for a week?” asked BS. BB shook his head. “Oh yeah, that was my bad. Last week, my bounty and I crashed on his smoke break on accident, fell victim to my gas bomb, and also gave him a nasty wound on his leg,” he summarized. BS let out a long sigh, her expression a mixture of frustration and concern. “Seriously?” she deadpaned.

BB puffed his cheeks at his sister’s tone. It sounded even more absurd if he truly knew what his sister was thinking about. “Yeah, pretty much,” he muttered sheepishly, looking down. BS shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips despite the seriousness of the situation. “Only you, Michael. Only you could manage to get yourself into these kinds of messes,” she remarked with a hint of exasperated affection as she started walking again. "And Eva would agree! All our siblings would too."

BB playfully rolled his eyes and slowly followed behind her, relieved that BS wasn’t too upset about anything. BS’s bike wasn’t too deep into the parking lot, rather it was rather close to the exit. After tying his bat to the back, he swung his leg over the vehicle and propped on his helmet before placing his bag on his lap and wrapping his arms around his sister’s waist. “Let’s go,” said BB, resting his head on BS’s back. BS let out a chuckle as she kicked off the stand and exited the driveway onto the streets.

It was surprisingly quiet this morning for Brooklyn, just a few passing cars with heavy bass beats vibrating from them, some busses, and some walkers. The morning air felt refreshing against BB’s face, a stark contrast to the tension-filled kitchen. As BS navigated the bike through the streets, BB let his mind drift, the rhythmic hum of the engine providing a soothing background. The city’s early hustle and bustle blurred past them, creating a sense of separation from the chaos that seemed to define his life. “Where do you want me to drop you off?” called BS over her shoulder, her voice cutting through the wind.

“Just around the corner from my place is fine,” replied, tightening his grip slightly. He could almost imagine Mew waiting by the window, ears perked up and tail twitching in anticipation.

As they weaved through the streets, BB’s thoughts kept returning to Armaros, that annoying and insufferable angel freak. The unexpected help, the bizarre turn of events, and now the guilt gnawing at him for lashing out. It wasn't like him to let his temper get the best of him—at least not like that. Yet, the frustration and fear had bubbled over, leaving him regretful and uncertain. Eventually, they pulled up to a quiet corner a block away from BB’s apartment. He dismounted, steadying himself on the pavement. He untied his bat from the back and placed it on top of his bag. “Thanks for the ride,” he said, handing the helmet back to BS. “No problem,” she replied, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “But seriously, Michael, be careful. And talk to him if you ever find him again.”

BB scoffed. “Yeah, if I can. Dunno where that hobo reject lives anyway,” he chuckled, doing his best to hide the melancholy in his tone. BS hummed for a moment, letting the air pass them before speaking again. “Y’know, I’m plannin’ to go out with our bros later. Would be nice if you joined us to get your ass to touch some grass and maybe for old times’ sake too,” she smiled softly. BB's smile wavered. He looked down the street towards his apartment, then back at his sister. "I'll think about it," he replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "Depends on how things go."

BS rolled her eyes, though there was a touch of fondness in her exasperation. "Just don't disappear into your cave again. You know we miss you, right?" she pouted. BB shrugged, not trusting himself to respond. He was already feeling a bit overwhelmed by the morning's revelations and the weight of everything he was juggling. “I'll text you,” he promised, giving her a quick hug. "Be safe, alright?"

BS nodded, her expression softening. She gave him a reassuring pat on the back before revving the engine and taking off down the street. BB watched her go, the rumble of the bike fading into the distance. With a deep breath, he adjusted the strap of the duffle bag and headed towards his apartment. He was faintly aware of the cross pendant bouncing on his chest, his hand weaving around it and putting his weight on it, surprised at how sturdy the jewelry was. BB didn’t think he could be happier when he made it to the base of his building and basically jogged to the back where the fire escape was. He used whatever energy that suddenly came over him to jump a few flights and climb to his window, whistling a tiny tune.

He shook his head wildly, scratching the back of his head as he unclasped his window and slipped into the living room. He took a deep breath in and out, the familiar scent of warm sweetness and chilling lavender welcoming him home. Finally.

“Mreow!”

BB jolted when he heard Mew coo at him. He didn’t even have time to react as his cat was already all over him, chirping and brushing against his ankles, nuzzling him. BB’s gaze softened as he bent over to pick up Mew, burying his face in his soft fur. “Hey, buddy... Sorry about the wait,” he whispered, chuckling as he felt Mew licking his jawline and swatting at him gently. “Mrrr...” purred Mew. “I know, I know...” sighed BB, using his free hand to put his bat to the side, “C’mon, let’s get you some food. You must be starvin'.”

Mew tilted his head as BB brought him to the kitchen. The sunlight flickered through the windows as he set Mew down on the counter. The cat's eager meows echoed in the small apartment as BB rummaged through the pantry for the familiar can of cat food. “Alright, alright, here you go,” muttered BB, popping the can open and carefully dumping Mew’s favourite kibble into his bowl, watching the cat enthusiastically dive into it. He leaned against the counter, exhaustion creeping back into his bones. After ensuring Mew was happily munching away, he shuffled to throw the can away, but what he saw in the trashcan surprised him. There were so many wet wipes, paper towels, some food that went bad, emptied-out cleaning supplies, and a lot of feathers. Is this what the birdbrain had been doing to keep himself entertained? Cleaning? Now that he thought about it, his kitchen always looked especially clean whenever he went to use it.

He sighed, throwing the can away and made his way to the windows, pulling the blinds down. He grunted, sitting on his couch and pulled his neon blanket over his body, laying on his back. He didn’t know what to do, if he was being honest. BB scrolled through his phone, going through Instagram and whatnot to catch up on things he missed. Since he followed his siblings who posted somewhat and significantly more frequently than he did, his page was flooded with various selfies, crack photos, club scenes, and food.

He stopped at a post that his older brother had reposted on his club’s account concerning the Newgrounds NYC club competition. BB liked the post, thinking about finishing that track sometime later this week. He thought that tune was going pretty well too. BB finally put his phone down after some time, his device playing a sweet and chill tune to lull him to bed for at least a couple of hours. He let out a small “oof!” when Mew had decided to make his chest his new bed.

BB groggily watched as Mew gently pawed the necklace on his chest. “Mrrr?” Mew chirped curiously. “...Sorry, buddy. Not sure where the guy is,” muttered BB. “Mrew...” cooed Mew, finally curling up with one paw on the necklace before purring away. BB absentmindedly scratched the back of Mew’s head, his body going numb with drowsiness.

“You should be fucking thankful I even had the heart to come after you!”

BB shook his head as his eyes fluttered close, mumbling something incomprehensible before drifting off into a much-needed rest. Quiet music chilled the apartment, the sun filtering through the gaps of the blinds. BB slept lightly, not like that was any difference, but it was sleep at least. Though dreaming was something that BB couldn’t afford with his state of mind, so he drifted to a world of blank thoughts, trying to bring his head under the water. His eyes remained closed for the next few hours as he shifted into various sleeping positions when he suddenly began to rouse upon feeling a tingle go off in his head.

“Maybe... some fun..."

...

......

.........

BB slowly opened his eyes as the itch stopped. That was the Armaros’s voice again, but it wasn't anything from last night. Mew was still curled up on his chest with his paw on the pendant, gently swiping at it as if it were a ball of yarn, though, BB couldn’t care less about that right now. Just what was that? He sat up, catching Mew as he slid off his chest and into his lap, rubbing his foggy eyes. He couldn't quite place the words he'd heard in his head—or whatever it had been. He glanced at the clock on the dining table and saw that he’d only been asleep for a few hours; It wasn’t nearly enough to feel rested, but he knew he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep with his mind racing.

“Mew, what do you think? Am I goin' crazy?” he asked, scratching the cat’s ears. Mew simply purred in response, content in BB's lap. BB chuckled softly and gently set the cat aside. He needed a distraction, something to focus on that wasn't his jumbled thoughts or the unsettling encounter from last night. He picked up his phone from the floor, the music still looping quietly as he scanned his lock screen with all the unread messages from his siblings’ group chat.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

[Today, 3:12 PM] Midget:

Sis, you said to meet at the usual place at the park…
Where tf r u?

[Today, 3:12 PM] Eugene’s Horse:

TFYM where is she when you’re not even here?

[Today, 3:12 PM] Midget:

Ah-... STFU! I can see your giant beanstalk of an ass from over here, I’m comin’!

[Today, 3:13 PM] Eugene’s Horse:

Yoooo, lil’ man Keith finally admits he’s short???

[Today, 3:13 PM] Midget:

EAT A DICK, MAX.

[Today, 3:17 PM] Other Me:

Bruhhhh and Older Bro says he’s the oldest.

[Today, 3:17 PM] Eugene’s Horse:

I don’t wanna hear it, Khole- ur a midget too.

[Today, 3:18 PM] Other Me:

Mb og but this is why we can’t have nice things.

[Today, 3:18 PM] Eugene's Horse:

Where r u?

[Today, 3:18 PM] Other Me:

I walked. Ur by the tree right?

[Today, 3:19 PM] Midget:

We both are. U think Beep B is gonna join us?

[Today, 3:19 PM] Other Me:

Dunno- had a tough night.

[Today, 3:19 PM] Eugene's Horse:

Doubt he’s coming but it be nice to see him again.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

BB stared at the lively group chat with his thumb hovering over the keyboard. Should he let them know he was okay? Should he join them? BB sighed, contemplating his options. The thought of being surrounded by his siblings, their laughter and presence, was tempting. They could be the distraction he needed, a break from the weight of his recent encounter and the ever-present voice in his head. BB’s watched as another text launched.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

[Today, 3:35 PM] Eugene's Horse:

BTW, I think he forgets we can see that he’s lurking. JOIN US, YOU HAIRY FUCK—

[Today, 3:35 PM] Midget:

LMAO LOOK WHO’S TALKING—

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Okay, BB was definitely joining now; he was going to get back at him for that. After a quick bathroom break, it didn’t take much for BB to consider himself presentable— just his usual attire. BB returned to the living room, scooping up Mew and giving him one last affectionate pat. “I'll be back later, okay? Don't get into too much trouble,” he said, setting the cat down gently. “Mrew!” cooed Mew, watching BB curiously as he grabbed his phone and keys.

He followed BB, jumping up on his hind legs and reaching up. BB raised a brow as he picked up Mew. “What’s up, buddy? I’m just going out with my sibs for a bit...” he frowned, gently patting the feline on the head. “Mrrrr...” chirped Mew, sniffing the necklace and pawing at it. BB paused, noticing Mew's sudden interest in the Armaros’s necklace that hung around him. He furrowed his brow, puzzled by the cat's behaviour. "What's got you so curious about this, huh?" he muttered, lifting the pendant for a closer look. Mew continued to paw at it, his gaze fixated on the shimmering metal.

Curiosity piqued, BB carefully unclasped the necklace and held it to the light. The cross was simple yet elegant, the gold chilling against his fingertips. “Mrrr...... Mrew!” squeaked Mew as he quickly stretched up to grab the necklace with his mouth and jumped out of BB’s arms. “AH—!” gasped BB as he reached forward, his body instinctively following Mew’s motions. He was about to scold Mew until he slowly watched as his cat simply jumped on the coffee table and nestled there under the afternoon sun with the necklace weaved through his paws.

Huh.

BB scratched his head confusedly. “A-alright then...” he sighed as he finally went to turn the doorknob. The walk to the park didn’t take too long as it was just a few blocks away. His thumbs hung on the sides of his pockets as he let the cool air weave through and past his wandering figure. As he walked, he could pick up on the eyes watching him strut past, and despite being used to many types of attention, the casual and curious eyes made him feel like he was being watched. It felt like the world had suddenly known what he did last night. It made him want to pull up his hood and hide.

BB’s head hung slightly as his eyes remained on the floor as he approached the park. He finally looked up when he could pick up on his siblings yelling from his place. Loud much? Just what were they blabbering about this time? “These idiots..." he sighed as she shook his head amusingly.

BB scoffed as he approached them from behind, frowning and punching his older brother’s back. “Oya, you got some beef with me?” he huffed, raising a brow. BF and BS gasped. “Michael, you made it!” cried BS as BF crossed his arms with a smile. OB didn’t budge but merely turned around and dug his hands in his pockets. “Oh, boy! Humblin' Reality Loser has arrived,” he smirked, playfully glaring BB down. He took his hand out for a moment and tapped down on the rim of BB’s hat, causing a squeak out of him. “I could feel you need to shave your back from a single punch. Call me a hairy fuck again, Max,” replied BB, rolling his eyes with a small smirk twitching at the corner of his lips.

“Yeah, whatever. Just glad to see you decided to get some real air this time,” smiled OB, patting BB on the shoulder. “Skbopbe boop (He’s right). The last time I saw you was our interrupted movie night,” added BF. “C’mon that was two weeks ago, lil’ man!” said BB. “Yeah, you better make it up to me with some ultimate frisbee, Twink,” pouted BF as he took out a bright yellow disk from his bag. “Now?” asked BB, raising a brow. “Chill~ I just had a hunt last night, I’m a little sore!”

“Is that why your hand looks like processed meat?” scoffed BF. OB looked at BB’s hand after BF had mentioned it. “Oh, uh… I punched a brick wall, and no, my hand isn’t broken—it’s just badly mushed up,” nervously chuckled BB as he glanced at BS who blinked at him. OB raised a skeptical eyebrow, his gaze flickering between BB's face and his injured hand. “Punched a brick wall, huh? Must've been one hell of a wall. Khole said you had to call for a pick-up,” he remarked dryly, his tone laced with disbelief. BB shrugged nonchalantly, trying to play it off. “Yeah, but I’m fine! Anyway, if it’s a frisbee game you want, I’ll give it to you...” he challenged, leaning down to get on eye level with BF, “...If you can jump high enough to catch, midget.”

“Fuck off, stud!” retorted BF, his cheeks flushing as he grabbed the frisbee and whipped it towards OB. “Heads up!” he called. OB caught the frisbee effortlessly, spinning it on his finger before tossing it to BB with a smirk. “Think you can keep up with us with those heart problems?” he challenged. BB caught the frisbee with a quick wrist snap, the pain in his hand flaring momentarily before he shook it off. “You... That sounds like someone who doesn't want his track finished! You’re on,” he replied, his competitive spirit kicking in as he looked at BS who started running. “CATCH!”

If people were to barely brush past the park, they would still hear the loud shouts of the Silvers siblings. There was something about today that was finally making things look up for BB, and despite the throbbing pain in his hand, found himself getting lost in the game. He felt like a kid again, unaware of the world’s responsibilities and it felt great— fantastic even. As the sun began its slow descent, casting a golden hue over the park, BB felt the adrenaline of the game coursing through him. His heart raced, not from anxiety but from the sheer joy of competing with his siblings. The ultimate frisbee match had turned into an all-out battle, with each sibling trying to outdo the other in a series of daring catches and swift throws.

“That’s mine!” yelled BB, leaping into the air and snatching the frisbee out of reach from OB. He landed awkwardly, wincing as his injured hand made contact with the ground, but the pain was a distant echo compared to the exhilaration of the moment. He quickly passed the frisbee to BS, however, BF managed to intercept it. “How’s that for a midget?” huffed BF, earning a playful eye roll from BS before he launched the disc in OB’s direction. “Bap bop (Alright)! Coming your way, Max!”

OB, standing a few meters away, turned and sprinted to catch the frisbee. His long strides quickly closed the distance, and for a moment, it seemed like he would make an impressive catch. But BS, standing on the sidelines, noticed something alarming. “Bro, heads up!” yelled BS.

“WHA–?!” gasped OB. Just as OB reached out to grab the frisbee, his face was smacked by a ball, and he stumbled back. Time seemed to slow down as he lost his balance, the frisbee slipping through his fingers. He tumbled to the ground, landing hard on his back with a grunt.

“Max!” shouted BB and BF in unison, their voices filled with urgency as they sprinted towards their brother. BB’s heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing the fear that surged through him. As he reached OB, who was groaning and trying to sit up, BB dropped to his knees, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. “You okay, big guy?” asked BB, his voice thick with concern. He gently placed a hand on OB’s shoulder, his eyes scanning his brother’s face for any signs of serious injury.

OB winced, his hand instinctively moving to rub his side. Despite the obvious discomfort, he managed to pull his lips into a strained but reassuring smile. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just my pride that’s hurt,” he replied, his chuckle weak but genuine. BB felt a wave of relief wash over him, though it did little to ease the tension that had gripped his body. He watched as OB shook his head wildly, trying to clear the mess of his head. The sound of his vertebrae cracking echoed in the quiet that had settled over their little corner of the park. “Well, just be lucky you didn’t get a nosebleed,” scoffed BS, who had already gotten up and was scanning the area for the source of the rogue ball.

Bark! Bark!

BS hummed as a German Shepard sped toward her, panting as it halted in front of her. "Oh, aren't you a cutie?" she purred as she dangled the ball over the dog's head. It barked again, its tail wagging quickly. "Rex!" called a voice, making BS snap her eyes up. She spotted a man running towards them, his expression one of genuine concern. He was around her age, with golden eyes and glasses, wearing a red beanie that framed his pale brown hair. The black droops under his eyes gave this air of quirkiness, which BS assumed was makeup. “Yo, this yours?” she called out, holding up the ball. The man nodded, his cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment. “Yeah, I guess I underestimated my throwin' strength. Are you alright?” he asked, his voice tinged with guilt. BS smiled, waving off his concern. “I’m fine, uhm... not so much my older brother, but at least he doesn’t have a nosebleed,” she replied with a nervous giggle, handing the ball back to him. She watched as he took it gratefully, his relief evident.

“BEEP?!”

The sharp exclamation made BS flinch. She turned to see her siblings standing behind her, their expressions a mix of surprise and wariness. BF was at the front, his posture tense and guarded. BS tilted her head in confusion, her eyes darting between her brothers and the man she had just met. BB’s heart skipped a beat as he locked eyes with the man. It was the last person he wanted to see or think about right now. What was Armaros doing here? And since when did he have a pet dog?

That's when Rex growled and barked almost warningly in BB's direction, and BB's siblings all raised a brow at BB, then Armaros, then BB again. Armaros quickly tugged the leash back and the dog seemed to understand the silent command, whining as he sat down on the ground, keeping tabs on the siblings. "Uhm..." Armaros cleared his throat, breaking eye contact with BB to glance at OB, who was rubbing his back as he stood behind BB and BF. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, but kept his tone firm and steady. “Sorry about the ball. I didn’t mean to flatten your nose or anythin'."

OB waved off the apology with a casual hand, though his eyes remained narrowed with suspicion. "Don't worry about it. I've had worse," he said, though his tone lacked its usual warmth. BB, meanwhile, couldn’t hide his unease. His fingers twitched, wanting to form a fist, but the memory of his injured hand restrained him. He squinted, trying to read the subtle emotions on Armaros’s face. Was it fatigue? Unease? The angel looked different, almost vulnerable, which made BB hesitate to lash out.

“Yo, A!”

Everyone looked over to see another man jogging up to them. He had blue eyes, dark skin, and black hair, and his demeanour was relaxed and jovial. Rex seemed to perk up at the sight of the man and barked at him, licking his head and jumping on his legs. “Hey, buddy!" he laughed before looking at the awkward mess around Armaros. "Ah... see you’ve caused a little trouble, huh?~” He teased him, a playful grin spreading across his face. Armaros could only glare at the guy, brows furrowing as he scoffed to push down the rising embarrassment. “It was an accident, alright?” he exclaimed, clenching his jaw slightly.

BF and BB exchanged glances. A? The man laughed, clearly not intimidated by Armaros as he waved his hands dismissively.“Haha, I’m kiddin’, dude! Anyway, you comin' back or you're planning to keep Rex overtime? It's home time,” he asked, his voice filled with mock seriousness as he delivered a playful punch to Armaros’s shoulder. Armaros flinched at the contact, brushing his bangs from his face as he sighed, dropping the momentary irritation. “No, of course not. Let’s head back now then,” he nodded, his eyes flicking to the siblings one last time, lingering on BB before tugging Rex's leash. "C'mon, Rex. Let's go."

The dog immediately ran forward, making Armaros and the other man jog to keep up. For a moment, the park seemed to fade away. The noise, the chaos of the frisbee game, all of it dulled as BB’s eyes locked with Armaros’s. The golden light of the setting sun cast a soft glow on Armaros, making his expression hard to read. BB swallowed, his mind racing to decipher the mix of emotions in those golden eyes but if there was one thing he could read, it was sheer exhaustion. Armaros broke the gaze first, turning away and jogging back with his teammate, his posture tense. "Yo, 'sup with you? That dog didn't seem to fancy you when you were caught starin'," OB’s voice broke through BB’s reverie, snapping him back to reality. OB was standing close, his eyes filled with curiosity and concern. "Yeah, I thought you and that numbskull were on a truce. What’s with it?” added BF, who had managed to sidle up next to him, his usual playful demeanour momentarily replaced by genuine worry.

BB forced a laugh, shaking his head. He cast a quick glance at BS, who kept her mouth shut; after all, BB had only told her about last night, and he didn’t intend to put himself in the spotlight of his brothers’ attention right now. “I have no clue,” he replied, partially lying. He was surprised that his brothers didn’t press further, but at least for a little while, BB could convince himself and pretend that everything was normal. He could think about this later, or even better, he did not want to think about this at all!

...He wished his gut would agree.

Chapter Text

Days went by faster than BB had originally wanted. However, he had another relatively good sleep last night. BB found it odd that the ghosts didn’t come to pester him, so he finally decided to catch up on a week's worth of sleep and chores, but that unsettling feeling in his gut remained rooted in the spot. Perhaps, he needed another spontaneous outing, but he was in the middle of uploading OB’s finished track onto a USB from his laptop since his computer thought it would be a good time to update. Decisions weren’t exactly BB’s strong point.

Speaking of OB, wasn’t he supposed to get ready to head over to the main house? He had been staring at the laptop screen with unexpectedly tired eyes despite feeling well-rested. BB lay upside down on his beanbag chair, his head dangling off the seat, causing his long, blue hair to pool on the floor like spilt water. The faint glow of the laptop screen cast a soft blue hue over the dim room. The USB drive, plugged into the side of his laptop, blinked slowly as the progress bar inched forward. The track he had meticulously crafted, note by note, was nearly done uploading, but to BB, the process felt like watching molasses drip from a jar.

His mind buzzed with static, a white noise that drowned out any coherent thought. It wasn’t really anything at all; it was just...empty, but was it really empty? There was no such thing as an empty brain for BB nowadays, or ever. BB sighed, letting his eyes unfocus as he stared at the ceiling, the plain white staring back at him like a ghost. Speaking of which, part of him somewhat wished they came back to bother him. They’ve been gone for God knows how long now.

It’s been peaceful— a little too peaceful for BB’s liking. If he were on his routine, he would be in bed, sleeping the day away until something, or someone, woke him up. Now, he got sleep during the night and woke up properly, generally in a good enough mood to be able to do things, and he was finally eating. Feeling normal made BB internally freak out. BB wondered where the ghosts went; not like he enjoyed their pestering or anything, however, even when he did go out for hunts with them, they all seemed to stay a relatively further distance than they used to. Or when BB came closer, the ghosts would back up. He’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop and it’s been like that ever since...

“I saved you from becoming like me, and you dare to lecture me?”

Honestly, why was he still thinking about that night? As he finally sat upright, he could feel the lingering reminder of that night occasionally swinging against his chest, and BB still had yet to return it to the birdbrain. What was his name again— A? Was that really the angel freak’s name? Maybe it was a name that he prefers to be called by or something. BB’s free hand found its way under his shirt, fiddling with the cross pendant there. He hadn’t expected to keep it, let alone wear it continuously, but something about it had made him feel like he couldn’t just leave it on his desk or stuff it away in his drawer and it felt like a problem.

 But that was a problem for another time. Right now, the immediate problem was the USB drive that was almost done uploading OB’s track—and the fact that he hadn’t even started getting ready to deliver it.

The thought of OB’s inevitable scolding made BB cringe slightly. His older brother was many things—patient, understanding, kind—but when it came to responsibilities, OB had a strict no-nonsense policy. BB could already imagine the stern tone, the disappointment in OB’s voice, the way he’d let out that heavy sigh that always made BB feel like a kid who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Just as BB was about to muster up the energy to move, his phone buzzed beside him. The ringtone was one OB had chosen for himself—something upbeat and annoyingly catchy, which BB had never bothered to change. Groaning, BB reached for the phone, his fingers brushing against the edge of the device before he finally picked it up. He stared at the screen for a moment, contemplating letting the call go to voicemail, but he knew OB would just keep calling until he picked up. With a resigned sigh, BB answered the call. “Hey, Max,” he greeted, trying to sound more awake and alert than he felt. “Mikey, my guy!” OB’s voice came through the line, warm but with a hint of impatience. “Are you on your way?”

BB’s heart skipped a beat when he looked at the time. He was supposed to be at least a few minutes away from OB’s right now! “Uh...” he stalled, glancing around his studio as if the mess of crumpled papers and clutter would somehow provide him with an excuse. “Yeah, I’m just... finishin’ somethin’.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and BB could almost hear OB’s eyebrow raising. "...You haven’t left yet, have you?” muttered OB with an undercurrent of disapproval. BB bit his lip, glancing at the USB drive that was still blinking. “Errr— no, not exactly,” he admitted with a laugh, his voice taking on a nervous edge. He immediately shuffled off the seat to toss all the mess into a neat pile next to the overflowing garbage bin; he would deal with that later. “B-but I’m about to! Like, any second now!”

OB sighed, the sound filled with a mixture of fondness and exasperation as he listened to the shuffling on the other side of the line. “Well, you better hurry up. We got a problem over here,” he said. BB stopped for a moment. “Problem? Why, what happened?” he asked as he held his phone between his shoulder and ear, shuffling through papers on his desk and organizing the lyrics he jotted down for his production piece. OB let out a hum as if he wasn’t sure what to say. “I don’t think I’m in the position to say anything about that,” he replied. BB scoffed, now packing his bag. “Then why are you tellin’ me about a problem if you can’t tell me, you doofus?” he said, rolling his eyes. OB chuckled lightly. “Well, it’s a problem for you specifically if you don’t get your ass over here soon,” he started, “See, I’ve got somethin’ here that you might want, and I’m not sure it’s gonna last much longer if you keep draggin’ your feet.”

BB paused after he put the papers in a folder. “Something I might want?” he repeated, curiosity piqued. OB wasn’t usually one for cryptic hints—he was more of a straight shooter.  “Yeah. You remember those pizza skulls you like? The ones with the extra spicy pepperoni and extra cheese?” asked OB, and BB could practically see the shit-eating grin on his older brother’s face. BB’s eyes widened. “You got pizza skulls?” he scoffed.

“That’s right—five boxes, fresh out of the oven with a garlic butter brush and parmesan cheese sprinkle. But if you don’t get here soon, I might just have to start without you,” teased OB, his voice lilting with mock seriousness. “In fact, I’m already lookin’ at the first box right now. They’re practically beggin’ to be eaten, Mikey.”

BB’s heart sped up, his stomach growling in response. He had eaten a huge breakfast just earlier, and now the thought of those gooey, cheesy, spicy bites was making him hungry again. “Max, you better not!” challenged BB, though he knew better. OB would absolutely start eating without him—just to make a point. “Oh, I would,” replied OB. BB scrambled as he rushed to the bathroom. “You bitch—! Alright, alright! I’m movin’! Just... don’t eat ‘em all, okay? Save me at least a few!” he groaned, shuffling past his cat who just got out of the litter box.

“Only if you hurry,” said OB,  the teasing tone fading slightly to something more genuine. “Be safe, alright? I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there in a bit,” muttered BB before ending the call. He sighed, putting the phone down, rushing in front of the sink and giving his face a splash of cold water. Upon seeing his reflection in the mirror, he slowed down for a moment.

Was that really him in the mirror? BB wondered positively; his eyebags looked less intense, his hair looked brighter—fuller, and for his stature... well, his metabolism was the thing that was making him look skinny, but at least he looked like more than bones. He felt a small nudge at his legs, causing him to look down. “Mrrr...” purred Mew. BB glanced down at Mew, who was twining around his legs with that lazy feline grace, his gold eyes half-lidded as he gazed up at him. “Okay, I’m movin’,” mumbled BB as he wiped his face with his shirt. He dashed back to his room and quickly threw on some clothes—his usual pair of jeans and his purple crop top, and he couldn’t forget about his headphones and fingerless gloves—moving with a speed that would’ve made OB proud. All the while, Mew followed him around the room, his soft paws padding on the floor as he tried to keep up.

BB grabbed his phone, wallet, and keys, shoving them into his pockets. He let out a quick cheer when he came back to his laptop and the file was done downloading and put both the USB and laptop (just in case) into his bag. He did a final pat down before racing for the front door; he really hoped that those pizza skulls hadn’t been touched yet.

Just as BB finally slipped on his shoes to leave, Mew came along a nudged him insistently, almost knocking him over from his crouched position. BB stumbled a bit, catching himself on the doorframe as he looked down at Mew in confusion. The little tabby was blocking his way, his furry body pressed firmly against the door, with his tail flicking back and forth like a metronome. “Mew, what are you doing?” asked BB, frowning slightly. He reached down to gently nudge the cat aside, but Mew wouldn’t budge. Instead, he let out a plaintive meow and nudged BB’s leg again, this time more urgently.

“Ah-... c’mon, I gotta go or Max is gonna eat all those pizza skulls,” sighed BB, keeping balance. The cat stared back at him with those wide, gold eyes, his expression oddly intense for a pet that spent most of his time either napping, batting at stray dust motes, or taking care of him. Mew’s tail flicked again, and then he reached out with a paw, batting at BB’s leg as if trying to stop him from leaving. 

BB’s confusion deepened. Mew had always been affectionate, but this was different—almost like the cat was trying to tell him something. He reached out to scratch Mew behind the ears. Mew leaned into the touch for a moment, purring loudly, but then he quickly pulled away and nudged BB’s leg again, this time more insistently. BB sighed and sat down on the floor, crossing his legs as he tried to figure out what was going on. 

Mew seemed satisfied with this, hopping into BB’s lap and nuzzling his cheek affectionately. BB chuckled, reaching up to pet the cat’s back. “Alright, alright, you’ve got my attention. What’s up?” he chuckled, scratching under Mew’s chin in that way he knew the cat loved. Mew purred louder, his whole body vibrating with contentment, but even as he enjoyed the affection, he kept glancing up at the gold cross hanging from BB’s neck.

BB’s fingers instinctively went to the pendant, feeling the cool metal against his skin. He shouldn’t be too surprised by now; every time he went out, Mew would pester him for the birdbrain’s necklace until he gave it up. This wasn’t very different, but it did make BB wonder why he liked it so much. Then again, Mew did take a liking to the angel and maybe it was just his way of keeping him close. Still, there really wasn’t anything interesting about this necklace aside from the fact it saved him. “Mrrr...” purred Mew, standing up and swatting at the cross necklace. BB raised a brow, fiddling with the piece of jewelry. He took it off and dangled it over Mew’s head, wiggling it with a small laugh as his cat tried to reach for it. Eventually, BB lowered his hand so Mew could take it before he disappeared into the apartment.

BB sighed as he watched Mew trot off with the cross pendant dangling from his mouth, the cat's tail swishing confidently as if he'd just won a prize. He shook his head, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he stood up. “Weird cat,” muttered BB under his breath, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder while he reached for his helmet on the nearby hook.

He took one last look around the apartment, making sure he had everything he needed before stepping out into the hallway. The door clicked shut behind him, the sound echoing through the narrow corridor. BB’s footsteps were quick and purposeful as he made his way down the stairs, the familiar creaks and groans of the old building greeting him at every step. 

When he finally reached the street, the early afternoon sun greeted him with a warmth that felt foreign to his skin. BB squinted against the light, momentarily blinded as he fished for his keys. He made his way over to his motorbike—a vinyl wrapped 2018 BMW G 310 R—hopping right over the seat, sliding the key into the ignition and gave it a quick twist, bringing his bike to life with a deep, satisfying rumble. He took a moment to settle into the seat, letting the vibrations travel up through his hands as the engine warmed. He could almost feel the anticipation buzzing in the air—the rush of the wind against his face, the freedom of the open road, and the thought of biting into those cheesy pizza skulls waiting for him at OB’s place. With a practiced motion, he kicked up the stand and revved the engine, the roar echoing off the brick walls of the buildings around him. His helmet snapped into place, the visor down to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun. BB tightened his grip on the handlebars, feeling the reassuring weight of his bag against his back as he finally eased out of his parking spot and onto the road.

The streets of Brooklyn were alive with their usual hum of activity—people going about their day, cars honking in the distance, and the occasional siren wailing a few blocks away. The city blurred around him, a mix of colours and sounds that faded into the background as he hit the familiar route towards Williamsburg Brooklyn, the place he grew up before moving downtown. The bike hummed beneath him, a steady and reliable presence as he rode, and despite the visor making everything a shade darker, the world looked unusually more lively than BB had last remembered it.

The city seemed brighter today. The streets didn’t look as hostile, the buildings didn’t seem as imposing, and even the ever-present noise of the city felt more like a comforting hum rather than a constant assault on his senses.

It was a strange realization. BB wasn’t used to feeling good often but the past few days were different and he felt like he could finally just exist.

As he cruised down the highway, the wind rushing past him, BB couldn’t help but let a small, satisfied smile cross his face. The sight and feel of gliding across from Manhattan reminded him how cool he felt whenever he passed by—like a newbie about to move into New York for the first time, but he wasn’t about to question this positivity. Not today.

The route to OB’s place was so familiar by now that he could probably drive it with his eyes closed, though he obviously wouldn’t try. BB leaned into the final turn, the tires of his bike gripping the pavement with a reassuring steadiness as he approached OB’s garage. The garage was next to the stairs leading up to the main door and atop the garage was a balcony accessed through the kitchen. The place looked like it hadn’t changed much since they were kids—same old garage doors, same old sign with the family’s last name painted on it in a style that could only be described as “artistically chaotic” with spray paint.

BB slowed to a stop, the engine rumbling beneath him as he took in the sight of the garage. It was a familiar, comforting sight—one that held a lot of memories, both good and bad. BB sighed contentedly, flipping the kickstand down before dismounting the bike. He was about to reach for the handle to roll up the garage door when, to his surprise, it began to lift on its own. OB was already standing there, his tall and somewhat stocky frame silhouetted against the dim light inside. He had one hand on the door, the other holding a drumstick, which he twirled absentmindedly between his fingers. A grin spread across his face as he caught sight of BB.

“About time ya' showed up,” hummed OB, “Thought you might’ve gotten lost on the way.”

BB chuckled, shaking his head as he removed his helmet. “How’d you know I was here?” he asked, curiosity piqued. He hadn’t even had the chance to kill the engine before OB had the door up. OB tapped his ear with the drumstick, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Heard your bike while I was playin’ earlier. Y’know, that distinctive growl of yours is hard to miss.”

BB raised an eyebrow, impressed. “You were playing drums and still managed to catch my bike over all that noise? Still surprised you ain’t deaf yet. By the way, where’s your girl at? It’s been a hot minute since I’ve last seen her.”

OB perked up at the question and he stood up straight as he scratched the back of his head. “Scarlett had to travel down to the underworld. Her father’s ill, so she’s stayin’ down there until he’s back to perfect health,” he explained. BB nodded in understanding. “Ahhh, I see. Well, I hope you don’t miss her too much because I don’t wanna walk into the bathroom and—”

Before BB could finish his sentence, a loud, excited voice interrupted them from inside the garage. “Beep B!”

BB turned, just in time to see a flash of movement as their youngest sibling, BF bounded out from the door that connected the garage to the house. BB barely had time to brace himself before BF collided with him in a bear hug, nearly knocking him off balance. “Oh, woah! Woah, there!” giggled BB as he ruffled his little brother’s hair. “Someone’s excited to see me, eh? How’s Manhattan treatin’ ya?”

BF nuzzled BB as he looked up at him. “Skbap (Great)! Got into a great load of gigs and doin’ my streams as per usual,” he smiled wildly. “Growin’ your channel I see! Next stop is three hundred fifty thousand subs, right?” chuckled BB as he ruffled BF’s hair more and leaned down a little more to poke his sides, causing BF to squirm and laugh. BB then paused; BF smelled like pizza. He pushed him back by the shoulders and clicked his tongue. “...Did you eat my pizza skulls, lil’ man?” he huffed. BF’s eyes widened in mock innocence as he glanced up at BB. His mouth twitched with a mischievous grin, but he attempted to play it cool. “Beep (Me)? Eat your pizza skulls? Skbep bap (Nah, man), I wouldn’t do that,” he said, failing to keep a straight face.

BB narrowed his eyes, not buying it for a second. “Uh-huh. Ya' wouldn’t happen to know why you smell like marinara and melted cheese, then?” he challenged, crossing his arms over his chest. BF fidgeted, but the grin only grew wider. “Be skbeep bebop-bap. (Maybe the old man knows somethin’ about it),” he said quickly, throwing a glance over his shoulder at the eldest. OB, who had been leaning casually against his car, spun the drumstick between his fingers with a lazy flick of his wrist, barely looking up. “What did I say over the phone, Michael? It’s your fault for being late,” he tossed back as his eyes glanced up.

“Uhm, you said that you’d eat them, not Keith. And... hang on, you didn’t tell me he was comin’!” huffed BB. BB’s surprise was evident as he turned to OB. “Didn’t know myself,” replied OB, a shrug accompanying his words. “He just showed up about an hour ago, said he needed to talk. Seemed a little on edge.”

BB frowned, glancing down at BF who was still grinning up at him, though the mischievous glint in his eyes had dimmed slightly. There was something more in his expression now, something that BB couldn’t quite place. “What’s goin’ on, Keith? You alright?” asked BB, tilting his head. For a moment, Keith hesitated, his gaze shifting between BB and OB before finally landing on the floor. The playful energy that had been so prevalent just moments ago seemed to dissipate, replaced by a more subdued demeanour. “It’s a lil'... weird and maybe concerning,” quietly admitted BF, his voice barely above a whisper. BB’s concern deepened. BF wasn’t one to admit when something was wrong unless it was serious. He glanced up at OB, who gave a small nod, confirming that this was indeed the issue he had mentioned over the phone. “Is this the problem you were talkin’ about?” hummed BB.

OB nodded again as he went back to his drumset to put the sticks down. “Yeah, this is it. He said it was somethin’ about his GF, but I thought this type of talkin’ should be yours to handle, “He sighed and looked at BB. “Anyway, I’m gonna dig into those pizza skulls now that you’re here. You two talk.”

BB chuckled and watched as OB disappeared back into the house, leaving the garage door open behind him. The sound of the drumsticks being set down on the snare echoed faintly before the door creaked shut. BB then turned his attention back to BF, noticing the way his little brother’s usual bright energy had dimmed. BF stood there, fidgeting slightly with the edge of his shirt, his eyes downcast as if he was wrestling with how to even begin. BB stepped closer, placing a hand on BF’s shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get your head out of the clouds and help me with my bike. We can talk while we’re at it,” said BB his tone gentle but firm, trying to offer some reassurance without making BF feel pressured.

BF nodded and moved to grab one end of the bike as BB rolled it into the garage. They worked in silence for a few moments, the only sounds being the hum of the bike’s engine winding down and the faint noise of OB in the kitchen above them. Once the bike was secured and the lights had slowly faded, BB wiped his hands on a rag and turned to BF, who was leaning against the workbench, his expression still troubled.

BB leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as he watched BF. “So, what’s goin’ on, Keith?”

BF glanced up, meeting BB’s eyes briefly before looking away. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s... Skipbe boop (It’s Cherry),” he grumbled. “Bap-bap beep opbe. Beop beep-bobap? Skbee. (She’s been acting kinda strange lately. Like, different, y’know? Distant.)”

BB raised an eyebrow. “Strange how? She say somethin’, or is it just a feeling you’ve got?”

“Skdoo bep (It’s more than just a feeling),” replied BF, a note of frustration creeping into his voice. “She’s been cancelling plans, texts are kinda vague, and when we do talk, it feels... like she's thinking about somethin' else. I tried asking her if everything's  alright, but beopbap be-beep skbep (she just brushes it off as some sort of family business or changes the subject.)”

BB listened carefully, his brow furrowing slightly. He could see why BF was worried, but at the same time, he knew his little brother. He knew GF too. “Look, I get why you’re concerned, but you’ve got to remember something—Cherry loves you. Hell, anyone with eyes can see that. There’s no way she’s found someone else—you two are solid," he said. BF looked up, his eyes searching BB’s for some kind of reassurance. “Ya' really think so? I mean, what if I’m just missin’ something? What if she’s bored of me or found someone who’s better?”

BB scoffed. “Dude, give my fat dick a rest. You two are tight, always together, and I’ve seen how she looks at you. It’s the kind of look that says she’s all in,” he said,  “And as for boredom? You got her screamin’ in the sheets n’ you’re tellin’ me she’s gonna get bored? C’mon, lil’ man, she's a down-bad succubus, so where’s that confidence at?”

BF snorted as a smile cracked on his face. “I mean... Can't help it,” he muttered as he and BB shared the same expression before bursting into giggles. “Alright, alright. Let’s head upstairs before Older Bro eats those boxes without us. I'm not in the mood to spend the rest of my time broodin'.”

BB grunted as he stood up and raced for the door. “Yes, please!” he shouted as BF followed after him. BB and BF jogged up the stairs, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway. OB had already gotten through half a box and was now casually juggling two pizza skulls from hand to hand. When he saw them, he grinned and lobbed it in their direction.  Without missing a beat, BB and BF both caught the food mid-air, their reflexes in sync. “Nice catch, boys” grinned OB, wiping his hands on a cloth. "Now, where's that USB?"

BB reached into his bag, pulling out the small drive and tossing it over to OB. "And here’s a file with my part of lyrics I finished up for your track," he added, handing over the file. OB caught the USB and file effortlessly, tucking the USB into his back pocket as he leaned against the counter. “Thanks, Mikey,” said OB, opening the paper and skimming through the lyrics. His eyebrows raised slightly as he read, nodding in approval. “These are some solid bars. Can’t wait to lay 'em down.”

As they settled around the kitchen island, each with a pizza skull in hand, the conversation turned to OB’s upcoming gig. BB leaned back against the counter, his eyes fixed on the tiled floor as OB talked about the setlist, the venue, and the crowd he was expecting. After spending some time discussing OB’s setlist and plans for the gig, the brothers made their way back to the garage with their food to run through the track and lyrics together. The boombox pounded with life as the instrumental track tore through the garage and out onto the open street, guitar and classic synthesized beats making OB and BF shiver from the fresh tunes.

OB tapped his foot, nodding along as BF rapped through the verse, his voice smooth and confident. BB offered advice on timing, tone, and flow, though there were moments where his opinions didn’t match with OB’s, much to BF’s entertainment. They worked through the verses and hooks, tightening the transitions, experimenting with pauses and emphasis as they slowly emptied out all five boxes of pizza skulls. BB would say it was a good dinner even though it was just junk, but at least he was stuffed enough so he wouldn’t be hungry until the next morning. As they hit a good rhythm, the sun was low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the pavement outside. He knew he had to leave soon if he wanted to get back to Downtown Brooklyn before it got too late. He pushed through the track one last time with his brothers, running the lines and tweaking the last few details before checking his phone. 

“Alright, I gotta bounce, guys,” said BB, interrupting the flow. “Mew’s gonna throw a hissy-fit in approximately thirty minutes—an hour if I’m lucky. We’ll continue this another time, yeah?”

OB paused mid-verse while he leaned over the boombox adjusting the volume, looking up and nodding with a grin. “Don’t worry about it, Michael—we got this. But hey, before you go...” he paused, looking BB up and down as if noticing something for the first time. “You’re lookin' better, man. Healthier. I’m glad to see that.”

BB glanced at OB, slightly surprised by the comment. He wasn’t one for sentimental moments, but he appreciated the sentiment. He felt a warmth spread through his chest at OB’s words but shrugged it off with a smirk as he adjusted his bag. "Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep up with you lot," he replied, his voice light but carrying a hint of truth. "Can’t have you two outshinin’ me."

BF grinned, his earlier worries seemingly pushed aside by the easy camaraderie between them. "You’re always welcome to try, bro, but good luck with that,” he snickered. They exchanged a few more playful jabs before BB made his way out of the garage, the cool evening air greeting him as he stepped outside with his bike. He paused at the entrance, turning back to give a casual wave. “Catch you guys later!” he shouted.

“Stay safe, Beep B!” called BF, while OB just raised a hand in farewell.

BB nodded, sliding on his helmet as swung his leg over the seat, and with a final glance at the garage, he kicked the bike into gear and sped off in the direction of the highway, the sound of the engine echoing through the quiet streets. The setting sun cast a warm, golden hue over everything, the skyscrapers in the distance towering like silent sentinels. The ride back to Downtown was a welcome stretch of solitude, giving him time to think about everything BF had said earlier. GF acting distant was definitely concerning, especially since she and BF had always been so tight. BB couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to it than just a rough patch. He considered talking to BS and Bestie about it. The two and GF were close, and if anyone would know what was going on, it would be them. Maybe the girls had noticed something off too.

Ideas flitted through his mind like the high-mast lights above. Should he approach GF directly? Maybe, but that could be awkward, especially if it turned out to be something personal between her and BF. He considered calling BS first thing tomorrow morning but then wondered if a different angle might be more effective. What if he found a way to subtly bring the two closer together again, without prying into their private lives? Maybe he could set up something fun, a casual hangout or something to ease the tension between them without it being obvious. 

Or maybe—just maybe—BB could talk to BF about giving GF some space. Sometimes, people just need time to work through their thoughts, and pushing too hard could backfire. BB knew that all too well. He could already hear BF protesting, though, insisting that things needed to be fixed now. The thought made BB smile slightly beneath his helmet. His younger brother’s determination was something he both admired and worried about.

By the time BB pulled into the parking garage of his apartment building, he was still unsure which idea to pursue. He decided he’d think more on it later—maybe after talking to BS. Right now, he just wanted to get home and unwind. The evening air was cool as he took off his helmet, the sound of his bike’s engine echoing faintly as it wound down. He made his way up to his apartment, and as soon as he opened the door, a familiar streak of fur darted toward him.

“Mrrrew! Mreooow!” cooed Mew, his tail standing tall in greeting. BB chuckled as Mew wound around his legs, his small body vibrating with an eager purr. “Hey, buddy,” BB greeted, bending down to scratch Mew behind the ears. The cat arched into the touch, but his insistent meows reminded BB of the real reason for the enthusiastic welcome. “Alright, alright, I get it. You’re hungry.”

He headed straight for the kitchen, Mew trotting eagerly beside him, the cat’s excitement making BB’s long day feel a little lighter. He pulled out a can of Mew’s favourite tuna-flavoured food, cracking it open and scooping it into the bowl. Mew didn’t waste any time, diving into the meal with enthusiastic purrs. Now that he was sure he wouldn’t be pestered for a good while, BB glanced around the apartment, noticing the little trails of fur that had accumulated in the corners and on the furniture. He sighed. “Guess it’s time for a quick clean-up,” he murmured.

BB moved through his evening routine, the quiet hum of the city outside contrasting with the peacefulness of his apartment. He tidied up, picking up Mew's scattered toys and wiping down the kitchen counters. The act of cleaning was soothing, giving him a moment to unwind and let his mind drift away from the day's concerns.

BB spent the next hour tidying up his apartment, sweeping up the tufts of fur and giving the surfaces a quick wipe-down, setting up a diffuser on the dining table with some lavender essential oils to keep the place calm for the rest of the night. After finishing up, BB took a quick shower, letting the warm water wash away the day’s labour.

When he finally emerged, the apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside his window. Mew had already finished his meal and was now perched on the back of the couch, watching BB with half-lidded eyes.

BB smiled at the sight, feeling a wave of affection for the little cat. “Ready to call it a night, huh?” he asked softly, to which Mew replied with a soft “Mrrp,” as if agreeing. BB made his way to the bedroom, his steps slowing as the day’s fatigue caught up with him. He didn’t bother with the lights since he had night vision—it saved him money with the electricity bill anyway. He made himself comfortable in a fresh pair of boxers and a soft, worn T-shirt before closing his blinds and door, though he kept one slightly open just in case Mew wanted to join him. 

“Man...” yawned BB as he laid down on his bed with a grunt.  He stared at the ceiling for a moment, letting the day’s events play through his mind, but none of it seemed to stick. The only thing he wanted now was to relax. BB reached over to his nightstand and grabbed his phone, scrolling through his playlist until he found something that suited the mood. The smooth, mellow beats of chill hip-hop and R&B began to fill the room, the soft rhythm a perfect backdrop to the quiet night. 

As the music played, BB let himself sink deeper into the comfort of his bed, the cool sheets and soft pillow a welcome reprieve after the long day. The soulful tunes eased the tension in his muscles, helping him unwind bit by bit. He closed his eyes, breathing in the faint scent of lavender from the diffuser in the other room, and let the music carry him away, each beat and melody like a gentle wave pulling him further from his thoughts. Just as he was on the verge of sleep, BB felt a familiar weight settle at the foot of his bed. He cracked open one eye to see Mew padding up toward him. “What’s up, buddy?” he mumbled, his voice thick with drowsiness. The cat nuzzled BB’s hand before something clinked softly against the sheets. BB’s brow furrowed slightly, his fingers brushing against something cool and metallic. Curious, he propped himself up on one elbow and reached out to see what Mew had brought him.

It was Armaros’s necklace; BB had nearly forgotten about it, lost in the shuffle of everything else that had been happening. “Thanks, Mew,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. He picked up the pendant and without another thought, he slipped it over his head, letting the cross rest against his chest as he laid back down again.

“Mrrr...” purred Mew before he hopped off the bed and left for the living room to sleep on the couch or something.

BB stared at the ceiling, blinking slowly. The soft rhythm of the music and the gentle darkness of the room began to blur the edges of BB’s thoughts. He felt the comforting weight of Armaros’s pendant against his chest, the cool metal warming slightly from his skin. With a tired sigh, he closed his eyes, allowing the melody and the day’s weariness to pull him deeper into relaxation. A sudden tingle then rippled through his mind, like a soft electric current sparking at the base of his skull. BB’s eyes fluttered open, but the room remained quiet, the shadows undisturbed. He might have dismissed it as a trick of his tired brain, but then he heard it—a low, familiar voice, almost like a whisper.

“What a day…”

Armaros’s voice, rich and resonant, filled the quiet space. The tone was lighter, almost content, as if the angel was smiling, content, maybe even a little proud—a faint trace of happiness that BB had rarely heard before. The words hung in the air, gentle yet firm, like a hand resting on his shoulder.

Perhaps the birdbrain also had a good day today too. BB’s lips curved into a small, sleepy smile as he yawned and closed his eyes for real this time, sighing. “Yeah,” he murmured in response, his voice barely more than a breath. “What a day...”

Chapter Text

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[Saturday, 12:04 PM] Cherry Soda:

Do you think it’s impossible for a bad person to try to be good?

[Saturday, 12:09 PM] Michael:

Wdym?

[Saturday, 12:11 PM] Cherry Soda:

Like, do u think it’s impossible for a person who has been classified by all their bad choices to try and be good, but ppl can’t see them as good, despite doing good things?

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At first, BB was surprised at GF’s sudden change in demeanour. She was acting all stiff, just like BF had described the last time they spoke directly a while ago, but it seemed like she was back to being normal— sort of. He supposed whatever had been going on with her had been solved as BF came running to him a week ago, giving him thanks.

BB decided that the best course of action for BF was to give her space and it seemed to work, though, these out-of-the-blue questions confused him. GF didn’t seem unwell, and if she was having mental health issues, her parents would have already taken care of her. If GF was speaking to him directly, BB could imagine her voice carrying a hint of genuine curiosity—something almost childlike even. This was just one of the few questions she’d asked him over the past period. BB finally emerged from the bathroom with his eyes still glued to his screen, while one hand loosely twirled the angel’s necklace around his wrist like a bracelet.

He had quite the day today— he revisited OB and BF for some practice runs on the gig track, dropped by the police station to pick up his money, paid his rent, and did a spontaneous cleaning session with a rewarding takeout dinner. He ran a comb through his hair as his feet padded into his bedroom, ready to turn in with Mew already waiting for him on the bed. He was still in his and GF’s message log, which scrolled down to another set of old texts, but it was early enough to be considered recent.

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[Monday, 6:19 PM] Cherry Soda:

How do you keep up with a person who seems like they’re always on the move? It’s like a whole cardio workout, lol.

[Monday, 6:33 PM] Michael:

Tbh, I wonder how ppl do that too. I know I hunt n' shit but, I don’t think I can last more than three hours on my feet without a break, LMAO!

[Monday, 6:34 PM] Cherry Soda:

Pfffft—
Sounds like u need to get ur steps in, Noodle Legs… 😔

[Monday, 6:34 PM] Michael:

HELP??? WHO HURT YOU??? 😭😭

[Monday, 6:34 PM] Cherry Soda:

 Dw, I’ll get u a Fitbit :P

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She was obviously joking.

He sat down on the mattress and drew the blinds while Mew was already finding his spot by BB’s stomach, purring softly. “I know, buddy… Just give me a sec,” murmured BB, rubbing his eyes as he lay down.

He took a breath, swiping out of GF’s DMs and pulling up his messages with his twin sister. Despite him and BF usually being seen together for family bonding, he and BS were undeniably the closest in the bunch, even though they don’t hang out as much. Recently, she’s also been asking him stuff, but more in the realm of guidance rather than personal prodding. Still, there was something in the way BS phrased things that left him feeling like she wanted him to read between the lines. He would think that she’s been hanging around GF too much.

He stared at the screen as one of her more recent messages greeted his sight:

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[Thursday, 2:44 AM] Other Me:

Do u think ppl deserve what they deserve, or do u think life’s a bit more complicated than that?

[Thursday, 2:46 AM] Michael:

I’d say life’s def more complicated. Some ppl get their karma and others don’t get nearly enough credit for putting up with bs they don’t need.

[Thursday, 2:47 AM] Other Me:

Yeah, I figured you’d say that.

[Thursday, 2:47 AM] Michael:

Tf u up for? Lol, what’s on ur mind?

[Thursday, 2:47 AM] Other Me:

The downfalls of our senior class kekw.

[Thursday, 2:48 AM] Michael:

REAL? WHO’S FIRST LMAO???
Is it one of ur exes? Waiiiit, lemme guess—was it Alain?

[Thursday, 2:48 AM] Other Me:

MY exes??? Nah, it’s one of  URS- OMG YOU WON’T BELIEVE THIS BTW!!!

[Thursday, 2:49 AM] Michael:

EW, WHO???

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After that, it was just the plain old twin gossip. This was fine, right? He didn’t see anything too weird, and he hadn’t spiralled in a while, not feeling that gnawing anxiety creeping up the way it usually did. Maybe it was the peace of his apartment, but it kept him steady. Even if his brain told him to overthink, he stayed calm.

Maybe that was what was throwing him off. Normally, he’d be overanalyzing everything, his mind racing through worst-case scenarios. But here he was, calmly scrolling through DMs, the weight of those questions not quite sinking in as deeply as they used to. BB found it refreshing if anything, like a breath of fresh air. He quickly set the alarm for tomorrow’s plans before putting his phone down and rolling to the side, his fingers lazily twirling Armaros’s pendant. There was only one thing that could disturb his peace tonight; one that he didn’t let for a while until he had caught up with life for at least for a little bit.

BB would rather die than tell his siblings where he got this necklace from—aside from BS since she already knew. It was a close call today as Mew didn’t pester him for the necklace when he left the house for Williamsburg (even though, it should be on autopilot by now to leave it home), and OB noticed it during their practice. At least BF wasn’t there when it happened; otherwise, he might recognize it and demand answers. The one-month mark since he last saw Armaros was just around the corner too and it was embarrassing.

Perhaps he should just... sleep off the embarrassment. It was a stupid thing to be embarrassed about anyway. He’ll find that birdbrain eventually, but the earlier the better. That way, he could get over the inevitable conversation where he’d either walk out alive or get shot a third time. 

The next morning, BB let out a soft mumble at the sound of his phone going off as he rolled over, his face halfway into his pillow. Why did he set up the alarm so early anyway? How did he seriously think he could try and handle an early morning?

 His arm that was dangling off the bed had reached for the bedside, hitting the snooze button, the warm rays of the morning sun kissing his body through the blinds. The necklace felt cool in BB’s loose grip, still wrapped around his fingers from last night, and his breath was steady. He just wanted a few more minutes, though, he could feel Mew’s gentle presence long before his cat actually stirred him, so maybe not. The tabby pressed a small paw against BB’s chest, a soft purr vibrating through the blanket.

“Mrew?” cooed Mew, pawing at BB’s face now and drawing a sleepy groan from him. BB cracked an eye open, still clinging to the last bits of his dream. "Alright, alright..." he murmured, too comfortable to fully wake up just yet. He rolled over again, landing softly on his back as he sighed groggily.

Mew, unbothered by BB’s sluggishness, nuzzled his face before letting out a louder, more insistent meow. “I hear ya’, boss,” mumbled BB, blinking up at the ceiling. He didn’t move right away, and instead, lifted his hand to give Mew the attention he was demanding. His fingers scratched behind Mew’s ears as the cat’s purrs grew louder, vibrating through his body. For a moment, BB considered going back to sleep, the pull of the mattress and Mew’s comforting warmth lulling him. But then Mew crooned again, this time with unmistakable impatience. Breakfast. BB hummed, giving in. "You’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered with a half-smile, finally dragging himself out of bed.

BB stumbled out of bed, the necklace slipping off his wrist and landing on the desk with a quiet clink. He rubbed his eyes with a loud yawn and shuffled toward the kitchen with Mew at his heels, the tabby’s purrs now a background hum to the morning fog in BB’s brain. His caffeine fix was the first thing on his mind—well after he fed Mew, of course. “Mrrrrew!” cooed Mew, sitting at his bowl as he watched BB groggily open the cabinet. BB pulled out a pod of coffee for the coffee maker and Mew’s food, yawning again to shake off the sleep that was still clinging to him.

BB opened Mew’s food and poured it into the cat's bowl, the familiar sound of canned tuna falling flat against the dish as the tabby eagerly leaned in to inspect his breakfast. Mew gave an appreciative chirp and dove into the meal without a second thought, while BB shuffled over to the coffee maker. The dark brew poured into his mug with a soft rumble, a backdrop to his mind swimming through today’s plan as best he could with his foggy morning brain. Today was going to be simple; errands. Grocery store for his meal cravings, check. A new pair of combat boots, absolutely necessary because the ones he was using were slowly tearing at the soles, and it was better to have a new pair ready once the old ones were out of commission. New shirts because—he tugged at the tattered sleeve of his band tee—yeah, this one was done for.

He also had another errand on his list—a bounty hunt, but that wasn’t until tonight. He had slacked off a bit from hunting due to helping OB with the club and setting up for the Newgrounds club competition, so he supposed he could do a few hits in one go today. His motorbike had also gotten some fresh repairs, so he’d probably use it to zip between his targets this time—it saves him the trouble of sore feet.

The machine stopped whirring with a quiet beeeeeep! , and BB snagged the mug as he took a sip, letting the warm liquid ease him into wakefulness. His mind began to map out the day more clearly as he wandered around the apartment, putting his coffee down every few seconds to grab his essentials. Wallet? Check. Keys? Found them under yesterday’s mail. The bus card, though, seemed to be playing hide and seek with him. He grumbled to himself, shuffling around random papers, half-empty water bottles, and receipts, his focus slipping between one object and the next. BB always prided himself on being organized when it came to the important stuff—like his weapons, his bike, and his finances (sorta)—but little things like this? They got away from him more often than he'd like. He just used this darn card yesterday, too!

After what felt like an eternity (but was probably just five minutes), his fingers finally brushed the cool plastic of the elusive bus card, wedged under a half-finished crossword puzzle. "Gotcha." BB straightened up, pocketing it along with his wallet and keys. But now, of course, he was behind schedule. 

He glanced at the clock on the kitchen table. Shit.

It was later than he thought, but he could still make it if he hurried. He grabbed his coffee, downed the last of it, and gave Mew one last head scratch. "Don't cause any trouble while I’m out, alright?" he said, knowing full well the cat would sleep all day. Slinging a small pack of reusable bags over his shoulder, he bolted out the door, already calculating the time he'd save by hitting the market and stores in one go. If everything went smoothly, he could finish early and get a nap in before hunting tonight.

The sun was shining bright as he rushed to the bus stop, weaving through the slow walkers who seemed determined to enjoy the day at a snail’s pace. Once he reached the stop, he barely had time to catch his breath before the bus rolled up with a hiss, and he quickly hopped on, tapping his bus card and finding a seat near the back. The ride was a familiar blur of streets and faces he didn’t recognize. He spent most of it people-watching and scrolling through his phone, keeping half an eye on his stop. BB had a knack for zoning out just a little too well, but today, he was doing his best to stay on track. The bus finally pulled up to the curb near the small market he liked. It wasn’t anything fancy—just a local spot with the basics and a few surprises now and then. 

BB didn’t need much, just enough to last him through the week. He grabbed a small basket, picking out some things for a dish he was recently craving; a salmon-avocado poke bowl. Grocery errands like these were too simple, and he never spent more than a hundred on it since he doesn't cook much. Takeout was his go-to, and he didn’t see that changing anytime soon. Besides, he had the money, so there was no need to worry. Once he checked out and packed his few ingredients into a single bag, BB was back outside, already spotting the next bus pulling up.

He hustled over and caught it just in time, letting out a sigh as he found another seat near the window. It was time for the fun part of his errands: a shopping spree. He got off the bus and he was immediately greeted by the blinking neon signs and large banners that offered some irresistible deal, and there was a low hum of energy that seemed to pulse through the streets. BB adjusted the strap on his shoulder, setting his sights on the first shop in his mental itinerary. It was the one store he loved going to that practically guaranteed himself a full closet, and he was ready to walk out with one.

BB scanned through the display shirts on the wall, picking out prints that caught his eye before diving into the neatly folded shelves. He took a few grey tees with edgy prints, a couple in deep maroon, and one in forest green that reminded him of the way the leaves glowed just after a good rain. He also couldn’t resist a dark pink one with a faded retro look—it was a soft cotton that felt worn in, cropped, and like it already had stories to tell. And obviously, he couldn’t skip out on some new hoodies.

Now for the main mission: boots. He had to admit he was a little picky with his footwear, and for good reason. The last pair of combat boots he’d bought had barely lasted him six months with all the running around he did. This time, he wanted something sturdy, durable, and—if lucky—good-looking. After all, you never know who’s watching. Though, most of the boots that have been shipped in recently were made for fashion purposes. Too flashy, had too many buckles, the soles were too thin, the stitchings were ugly, and BB knocked down each boot he held. As he kept adding boots to his rejected pile, for some reason, he thought maybe Armaros would’ve had some ridiculous advice on shoes—something about balance or arch support that BB wouldn’t have cared about but would’ve heard him out on anyway. He actually wondered where the hell Armaros got his boots from; it seemed like the only pair of shoes the dude even owned and they still looked fresh. As a joke, he’d probably ask if he saw him. If ? Nah, when he saw him. How do you even find a fallen angel out here? It wasn’t exactly something BB could google directions for.

BB spent another thirty minutes poking through displays, his frustration easing slightly when he finally found a pair of boots that felt right: thick soles, rugged leather, and sturdy laces. What made it better was that they looked good and was in his favourite shade of bright red—he just needed to find his size. After a few rounds with the store clerk, BB finally snagged the right size and paid, practically bouncing as he stepped out of the store with his new boots. He could already feel the satisfaction of slipping them on later, imagining the comfort that’d make tonight’s job a little easier. The day was hot, though, and his thoughts had already moved to a shower and a solid nap. With that plan in mind, he shifted his bag to get a better grip and made his way toward the exit, barely looking where he was going.

And that was his first mistake. WHAM!

“GAH!” groaned BB, staggering back as his bags swung with him. He rubbed the area he hit himself as the sound of something papery and very much bodily-like crashed on the ground with a sharp gasp. “Ah, crap! Sorry about that, I didn’t—” BB began, already reaching out to help the poor person up. But then he looked down, and his stomach did a slow flip.

It was him.

Armaros.

For a second, BB wasn’t sure whether to bless or curse his luck. Armaros was sprawled out on the sidewalk, rubbing his shoulder with the kind of elegance only someone with a tragic backstory could pull off, but there was something about him today that didn’t quite fit his usual aloof presence. There was a tension in his jaw, his gaze darting to the shadows between the buildings and to the people on the street. BB could read it as easily as if it were his own nerves. Armaros looked anxious, almost as if he were trying to outrun something—someone. But as soon as he shook his head to rid himself of disorientation and looked up, his gaze landing on BB, his expression shifted into pure and unfiltered irritation.

It was the kind of look that said BB was the last person on earth he’d wanted to see.

BB hesitated, caught between his impulse to apologize and the heavy weight of last month's unfinished business between them. "Uh, you alright, Birdbrain?" he asked, holding out a hand. Armaros didn’t even look at it. Instead, Armaros straightened himself up slowly, brushing invisible dust off his dark coat with a cool dignity that made BB’s extended hand feel awkwardly out of place. BB cleared his throat, dropping his hand and hoping he didn’t look as thrown off as he felt.

At least the streets were too busy minding their own business to even pay attention to the situation and laugh at BB for the fool he felt like he made himself.

BB watched Armaros stand up and pick up the colourful paper bags he dropped with the fall. “Ah-... Here, lemme help with that,” he added almost awkwardly as he scrambled to pick up the others that the fallen couldn’t reach. Armaros’s eyes flicked from the bags BB was gathering to BB’s face, and for a moment, he seemed torn between refusing the help outright and just taking the bags to end the interaction faster. But he didn’t snatch them back, which BB took as progress—sort of.

As BB handed over the last bag, he spotted something glinting against the pavement: Armaros's glasses, slightly askew, lens catching the light. BB bent down, picking them up carefully and holding them out. “Your glasses,” he said, trying for casual.

Armaros's eyes narrowed as he took the glasses, as if unsure whether BB had ulterior motives or was just incredibly oblivious. But once he slipped them on, his shoulders softened, the harsh edge of his irritation smoothing out in a small sigh of relief. BB caught it—a flicker of something unguarded—and for a second, he had the strange urge to point out how Armaros actually looked a little, well… normal in those glasses.

Not that he’d say it aloud.

“Thanks,” muttered Armaros, barely audible. He adjusted the frames and fixed his gaze away from BB, staring at something distant as though willing himself to be somewhere else as he dusted off his clothing. BB figured this was as good a moment as any to clear the air. He shifted on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to muster up the words, gazing at Armaros's iced-up, edgy face. It looked like he couldn’t even handle being around BB right now. “Look, Birdbrain, I—”

“Sorry, I can’t talk,” said Armaros, almost immediately. His tone carried just the slightest tremor that anybody could miss, turning on his heel to walk off. BB blinked, momentarily stunned as Armaros pivoted and strode away without so much as a backward glance. He felt a surge of irritation mixed with a wave of determination that made his pulse quicken. Apology or not, he wasn’t going to let this go unresolved for another month. “Hey!” he called, picking up his pace as Armaros weaved through the passing people, his coat flaring behind him like he was some sort of avenging phantom. BB reached out and managed to catch his wrist, fingers curling tightly around it before Armaros could disappear entirely.

“Birdbrain, c’mon, m’serious,” said BB, lowering his voice as the crowd passed around them. “I’m just tryin’ to talk here.”

Armaros flinched, eyes widening as he harshly yanked his arm away from the bluenette’s grasp. “And I said I can’t talk,” he replied just a tad louder than before and continued walking, not so much to BB’s delight. BB followed the fallen, his shopping bags rustling with his movements as his frustration started to bubble up. “Just one minute, alright?” he insisted, weaving through the crowd with Armaros as they neared the less crowded part of the street. “I won’t even ask you anythin’ weird! Promise.”

Armaros kept walking, his back stiffening with every step, ignoring BB as if he were nothing more than a shadow dogging his path. The silence stretched between them, a silent warning growing louder with every moment BB didn't get the hint. He felt his patience eroding with each persistent demand, his jaw tightening. BB didn't notice—or maybe he did and just didn’t care.

“C’mon, dude,” BB called out, a bit more forcefully, jogging a few steps to keep up. “This is important, alright? Why do you have to be so—”

Armaros came to a dead halt, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he turned to face BB fully. A brittle, low laugh escaped him, slicing through the air like a blade. The sound was so sharp, so unexpectedly cold, it froze BB in place. His heart stuttered, his breath catching as an unsettling chill slid down his spine. BB's hand clenched around his bags, his mind racing through half-formed apologies. That laugh was not meant for a warm reception, and if anything, BB felt as though he’d touched on something dangerous. But before he could even muster up a response, Armaros’s gaze bore into him, his voice quiet yet laced with venom. BB could have sworn he saw those pupils quiver as if they were about to narrow into those sharp, murderous slits.

"Are you deaf," he hissed, the words dripping with impatience, "or am I not speaking English to you?"

BB swallowed, nerves crackling in his chest. "I... I just wanted to—"

"Why should I spare you a minute?” Armaros’s voice was barely above a whisper, but each syllable was a knife, deliberate and cutting. “If you think I owe you a conversation, I don’t. Whatever you’re gonna say, you can shove it up your ass. It’s... I don’t want to talk you.”

The blue-haired man’s brows furrowed as Armaros’s tone had softened just a bit by the end before he had turned on his heel and started walking again. Without overthinking it, he matched the angel’s strides, his steps falling just close enough to remind Armaros he was still there. “Look, I just wanna let you know that I feel bad for last month,” he called out, loud enough for at least Armaros to hear him.

Armaros sighed and without breaking stride, he spoke, each word clipped. “Okay, I hear you. Now, leave me alone,” he almost sneered, not even bothering to look back at BB.

But BB adjusted his pace, stepping up to keep at it. At least there weren’t many people around, and those who were seemed blissfully unaware, caught up in their own lives. He doubled his pace as Armaros turned a corner to stay close. “If you’re still mad at me, I get it,” sighed BB, trying his best not to give into the pissy attitude he wanted to let out.

Armaros clenched his fists, his shoulders visibly tensing. “I’m not mad,” he snapped, voice tight. The lie was evident like a flimsy barricade barely holding back a storm. He sped up again, his heels clicking a little harder on the pavement.

BB rolled his eyes, sidestepping a crack in the sidewalk as he hurried to keep pace. “Then why won’t you let me—”

“Why?! Because I said so!” Armaros whirled on him, eyes blazing with barely restrained anger, and BB nearly bumped into him from the sudden movement. BB stumbled back a step, the intensity of Armaros’s glare like a wall slamming down in front of him. Armaros's face was twisted in frustration, and a flush of raw anger coloured his cheeks.

 “I don’t need you on my ass too. Ya’ got what you wanted, right? You don’t want anythin’ to do with me because I’m just trouble . So, keep it that way, Michael,” spat Armaros, his words crashing out in sharp, fractured beats. BB’s mouth opened, his protest lodged in his throat, but Armaros wasn’t finished. He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “You have no idea how sick I am of people trackin’ my ass. The police still trying to identify and find me, and then came that succubus followin’ me wherever I go,” he muttered, barely audible as he seemed to wrestle the words from his own mind. "I don’t need nobody lookin’ over my shoulder— especially not you.”

Armaros paused for a second, his gaze snapping to the side as if discreetly trying to look behind him, but it was fleeting before it snapped back at BB. His gaze was sharper, making BB flinch. “So, get off my back,” snarled the fallen.

And with that Armaros turned and strode away, composing himself as he walked as if nothing had happened. BB's mind reeled, but his body moved before he could think, continuing to chase Armaros down the sidewalk. “Wait, what? Hey!” called BB. He knew Armaros had a stubborn streak, but this went beyond the usual resistance. Followed enough? Succubus? Did he mean GF? That was the only person BB knew Armaros to call a succubus. He couldn’t shake the sense that this was about more than Armaros’s usual bad temper. Even though he didn’t know him well, he could tell the fallen angel was so off-kilter. What had he been going through since that night?

But it seemed like BB wouldn’t be able to ask him that as a surge of people had suddenly emerged from the nearby subway exit and flowed in all directions, blocking BB’s view. BB weaved through the wave of people, hoping to catch a glimpse of Armaros’s dark coat or his swift, irritated strides. He darted past a couple dragging their suitcase and sidestepped around a group of tourists, nearly tripping over his own shoes in his hurry. But as the crowd thinned, there was no sign of him—Armaros was gone.

BB released a long breath; so much for a good day. He sighed, feeling the weight of his shopping bags straining his grip as he headed for the nearest patch of empty sidewalk—a tiny slice of solitude ironically right beside a dimly lit alleyway, wedged between two bustling cafes. He clicked his tongue and set down his bags, rubbing his sore palms. The irony wasn’t lost on him; for all his energy, keeping up with Armaros was like trying to hold water in his hands. And now, GF was added to the equation of the many problems BB was already having from that conversation alone. He felt the itch in his instincts—that feeling that kicked in when something wasn’t quite right, and that “something” felt like everything.

Armaros wasn’t one for subtlety. If he thought someone was following him, there was usually a grain of truth beneath the melodrama. Plus, he noticed how his gaze flickered between him and the side earlier as if something was there that wasn’t supposed to be there. And then there was GF’s sudden shift in demeanour. It had bothered BB more than he cared to admit, especially after BF came running to him all happy, thinking he had done something to fix it. Well, he did try a couple of things and saw how she’d been distant, but then suddenly, she was back to being her usual self without a word to anybody—too suddenly. It was as if she’d flipped a switch.

And if Armaros was telling him the truth, was that the reason why GF had been asking so many things recently? Because she thought BB would know the answers because of his ties to him? Can a bad person be good? How to catch up with someone who’s always moving? What more of his previous messages with GF hinted at Armaros?

If overthinking wasn’t there before, it certainly was here now.  The logic wasn’t concrete. BB didn’t have proof, but the suspicion wouldn’t leave him alone. His chest tightened, and his thumb hovered over GF’s contact. He had to approach this carefully. A text? No, a text could be misinterpreted, and he needed to hear her voice. He had to be casual. Too direct, and he might tip her off if— if —there was anything to tip her off about. He couldn’t just come out and say, “Hey, were you stalkin’ a fallen angel recently?” That would go over great. BB put up the phone to his ear and waited.

The first ring.

Second ring.

Third ring…

“Hey, friend. Cherry here. Sorry, I couldn’t pick up. Hit me again, or leave a message!”

BB dropped the phone and clicked his tongue.  Calling GF again felt risky—if she didn’t answer the first time, it might come off as desperate or worse, suspicious. His instincts screamed at him to try anyway. One more call, just to confirm.

The first ring.

Second ring.

Third ring…

BB didn’t even care to listen to the voicemail message. He hung up and sighed, dragging his free hand down his face. The late afternoon sun was already sinking, casting long shadows across the city streets. His other hand lingered over his phone, the glowing screen mocking him with GF’s contact information.

He had already called twice. No answer. Not even a text back. That was strange enough on its own—GF always had her phone on her. Always. Her vocal training should be over right about now too. If she wasn’t answering, something was either wrong, or she was deliberately ignoring him, and BB wasn’t sure which one annoyed him more. “Alright, Khole. You’re up,” he muttered, scrolling to his twin sister’s contact. BS and GF were always gossiping about something. Surely, she would know where GF was at, right? He tapped the call icon, lifting the phone to his ear.

As the phone dialled, BB's nerves twisted in knots. If BS didn’t pick up either, he’d really start to worry. His grip tightened on the edge of his sleeve as he focused on the sound of the ringing.

First ring.

Second ring.

BB muttered under his breath, willing his sister to answer. Just as he was about to curse her name, he instead cursed whatever deity enhanced his hearing.

Brrrrr!

What the hell? BB turned his head towards the alley next to him. He looked back at his phone, and the call was quickly denied. Was that a coincidence? BB dialled BS again and waited.

First ring.

Second ring.

Brrrrr!

BB perked up at the sound again. Nope, not a coincidence. Suddenly—“Girl, you’re phone!” he heard someone whisper. “Sorry, I thought I shut it off…” he heard another say. BB stood up and grabbed his bags. He put his phone away, his eyes still glued to the darkness in the alley. He raised a brow at the sound of rushed footsteps and frowned, stomach dropping.

BB’s heart thudded as he tightened his grip on the shopping bags. He hadn’t expected this—not the eerie coincidence, not the voices, and definitely not the distinct sound of hurried footsteps. He cursed under his breath, his bounty-hunting instincts roaring to life. "No way," he muttered, adjusting the bags in one hand while the other rotated his cap so the rim was behind him. He discreetly slipped in the alley’s mouth, straining to pick up the whispers as his feet picked up the pace.

"Uhm, Cherry, I don't think this is a good idea anymore. I'm pretty sure he knows we're followin' him. I mean, you at least."

BB froze at the voice. BS. No denying it now. He skimmed quietly through the thin space, his bags close to his side as he heard the footsteps stop rushing down the maze of back alleys, taking the chance to get closer.

"I know, I'm a terrible stalker, but seriously. I wanna know this angel dude more, and I know you do as well," came another voice—one that BB recognized all too well as GF's. "He saved your brother, so you could be right that he ain’t that bad."

BB’s lips curled into a sharp snarl, barely able to contain his frustration. So Armaros wasn’t lying. That much was clear now. What he hadn’t mentioned, though, was that GF and BS were both in on this little escapade. BB’s stomach twisted. Why hadn’t Armaros said anything about his sister? He peeked around the corner, catching a glimpse of the two women standing close, their heads tilted towards each other in hushed conversation. GF had something in her hand—a bulky, jerry-rigged smartphone with a flickering screen that pulsed faintly in blue light. BB squinted, recognizing it as something distinctly not human-made .

“Are you sure this thing even works?” asked BS, glancing nervously over her shoulder as if sensing the presence of their silent observer. BB quickly ducked back behind the corner. “It does,” confidently said GF, holding the device up. “I got it from a... reliable source.”

BB rolled his eyes. “Reliable source” could mean anyone in GF’s (her dad’s) circle, and the connections weren’t exactly the most trustworthy. The thought of her using something like that to track Armaros made his stomach churn. “But still,” muttered BS, shifting on her feet. “I feel like we should’ve just left this for Michael to deal with. The angel dude’s his killer, after all.”

BB’s stomach dropped at her bluntness. Killer. Yeah, that wasn’t untrue, but hearing his sister throw it out like that still sent a wave of nausea rippling through him.

“And I was his original target,” shot GF, voice low but unshaken, “I think I have the right to know who he really is beneath that moment. Don’t you?”

BS paused, clearly reluctant, but eventually sighed. “I... suppose you’re right. Okay, fine, how about it: we split up to track him down faster and call when we get him in sight. Deal?”

“You know me so well!” grinned GF and handed the device to BS with a flourish. “Here. This’ll pick up angelic energy. Just don’t drop it. They’re kinda hard to replace.”

BS rolled her eyes but took the device without protest. She adjusted her red and blue cap, inspecting the item. “Yeah, yeah. I got it.”

BB froze as he watched them prepare to separate. Split up? Oh, hell no. If they scattered, he wouldn’t be able to keep tabs on both. And while GF’s demonic instincts were a handful sometimes, BS was his precious twin sister. He was not having it.

As BS turned to leave, BB made his choice. He slipped further into the shadows, silently trailing after his twin. GF could wait. Right now, his priority was BS—making sure she didn’t get herself killed or worse in this mess. He followed her at a distance, careful to keep his steps quiet and his presence unnoticed. BS had her eyes glued to the device, the faint glow illuminating her determined expression. “Okay...” muttered the bluenette, holding up the device and looking at the arrow wiggle on the screen. She clutched the tracker like it was her lifeline, her gaze flicking between the device’s jittery blue arrow and her path. The faint glow cast eerie shadows over her face, and BB could see the flicker of doubt in her eyes as she smacked the device gently.

“Stupid hunk of junk...” muttered BS. The arrow spun wildly before settling again, pointing straight ahead. “Ugh. Cherry’s ‘reliable sources’ are crap.”

BB suppressed a snort. For once, he agreed with her. He kept his distance, slipping into the shadows whenever BS glanced over her shoulder. She didn’t seem suspicious—just focused. He knew how meticulous she could be, especially when she was fixated on something new. He’d seen that look too many times, usually when she was about to get into trouble. The tracker arrow shifted abruptly, veering left. BS stopped, frowning as she turned to follow the new direction. “Honkidesu ka (Are you serious)? Make up your mind,” she grumbled, smacking the device again. BB tensed, his eyes darting to the dim light filtering from the main street ahead. She was getting close to an exit. 

As she reached the turning point to the exit, the tracker went haywire, its glow intensifying as the arrow spun erratically. BS stopped short, staring at it with growing frustration. “What is this thing doing?!” she hissed, giving it a slightly harder smack. The device beeped, the arrow suddenly pointing in the opposite direction. BS blinked, confused. “What the...?” She turned to follow the arrow just as a muffled scream tore through the air, sharp and chilling. It wasn’t loud enough to alert anyone on the busy street beyond, but in the stillness of the alley, it echoed like a gunshot.

BB froze, his breath catching in his throat. That wasn’t GF. He knew her voice. Whoever screamed wasn’t her, but the sound carried a distinct note of shock and fear. BS whipped her head toward the noise, her grip tightening on the tracker. “What the hell was that?” she muttered, her voice low but tinged with urgency. Before BB could decide what to do, BS’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She fumbled to answer it, holding it up to her ear. “Yeah?” she said, her voice cautious, “...Wait, what? You got him? Wait, are you—... Is that—?! Agh, alright. I’ll be there.”

With a reluctant sigh, BS hung up turned and started back down the alley. BB followed, keeping close but silent. His mind raced with the implications; If GF had “got him,” that meant—no. She wouldn’t. Would she?

The alley narrowed before opening up into a dimly lit, hidden courtyard bordered by brick walls and faintly glowing graffiti. He’d seen this place before if he remembered correctly; he had a few hunts around here. BB skidded to a halt just before he stepped into view, his heart pounding in his chest. What he saw made his blood run cold.

His wrists were bound in midair by an ethereal, blue-tinged aura that crackled faintly with magic. His shopping bags dangled pathetically from his arms, swinging with every attempt to pull himself together. Despite his struggle, he was losing the battle, his breaths coming out in sharp, shallow gasps. His glasses had slipped askew on his face, and his usually sharp eyes were wide and frantic, darting between his captor and his bindings.

GF stood a few feet away, her hand outstretched and her face tight with concentration. The blue aura binding Armaros flickered slightly, responding to her every movement. She didn’t look malicious—far from it. In fact, her expression seemed more nervous than anything else. BS gasped sharply. “Cherry...” she almost huffed, but her tone was in disbelief.

The young demoness flinched and looked to the side where BS was with a sheepish grin. Her diamond-shaped demonic markings glowed softly on her skin and her black eyes glimmered with a blue star flickering in the pupils. “Oh, uh, hi! This, uh... isn’t what it looks like?” she winced as BS cautiously stepped next to her, BS’s eyes locked onto Armaros. “Yeah, totally!” cried BS, running a hand down her face before looking at Armaros, “I am so sorry about my friend. She just—!”

Just then, Armaros grunted against GF’s restraints again, causing GF to refocus. “She’s just what; tryna get revenge for last year?! Why are you even here?!” he snarled, muscles taut. “¡Diablos, no! Of course not!" defensively shouted GF as her telekinesis seemed to tighten slightly, "I just wanted to ask you stuff—you started it!”

Armaros let out a harsh laugh, bitter and biting. “ I started it?! You’re delusional. Let. Me. GO!” he snarled, his voice shaky. BB could hear the strain, see the way his body tensed with every second the magic held him in place. He watched BS throw her hands up. “Cherry, this isn’t what we talked about. You said ya' just wanted to find him—not trap him in some weird demon voodoo!”

GF’s expression faltered, guilt flickering across her face. She lowered her hands slightly, the glow around Armaros’s wrists dimming. Armaros hissed at BS, “So, you were in on this too, huh...”

BS took a step back, her hands raised defensively. “Whoa, whoa, hold up! I didn’t sign up for this! ” she snapped, glaring at GF. “The only reason I agreed was because... I wanted to thank you for savin’ my twin brother.”

“I don’t care what you wanted to do. Deciding to track me down was your first mistake, now let me go ,” growled Armaros, his voice low and dangerous. His breathing was uneven and rapidly paced, a telltale sign that he was teetering on the edge of panic, and BB recognized it. “I am letting you go!” GF shot back, her voice cracking slightly. Her magic faltered further, the bindings loosening but not disappearing entirely. “Just calm down first!”

Armaros’s pupils squeezed into sharp slips, and his golden eyes turned bright red as he struggled with more effort. “Calm down? YOU WANT ME TO CALM DOWN?!” he roared, writhing violently. Suddenly, a dim glow caught BB's eye. Armaros’s earrings, simple gold crosses he always wore, began to shimmer faintly, their outlines traced in icy gold. They glowed like embers coming to life, flickering in warning. BB’s sixth sense—always more a gut feeling than something he could explain—erupted like an alarm in his chest. Without thinking, he bolted from his hiding spot, dropping his shopping bags.

“Get down!” shouted BB, diving towards the girls just as Armaros’s earrings flashed with a blinding light. The courtyard was bathed in light for a single, searing second. GF yelped in surprise, her magic snapping free from her control like a taut rope suddenly cut. The blue aura around Armaros shattered with an audible crack, and the fallen angel collapsed to the ground. The air felt charged, like the aftermath of a thunderstorm. BB held the girls close, shielding them instinctively as he blinked away the spots in his vision. “M-Michael?! When did—...” gasped BS, looking up at her twin. BB sighed and grinned wearily. “You two alright?” he asked.

BS nodded alongside GF. “We’re okay, but what the hell just happened? Cherry, what happened?” gulped BS, her voice high-pitched with shock, her eyes wide as she looked at Armaros with worry. GF held onto BB's shoulder, clutching her head. “I—I didn’t do that! My magic just... let go on its own! Is... Is he okay?”

BB didn’t respond, his focus fixed on Armaros. The fallen angel was on his hands and knees, his breathing ragged as he stared at the ground, his earrings hissing as if fried. His shopping bags were dented and stained with grime, but luckily, nothing had been ruined. BB hoped.

But his expression wasn’t what BB expected—no immediate lashing out. Instead, Armaros looked furious yet stunned, his red eyes slowly melting back to gold as they flickered back into focus. He slowly let go of the girls and turned around, rising slightly but not anymore to make himself look less threatening—if he even looked threatening to the angel. He stepped forward cautiously, tilting his head slightly.

BB’s movements were careful, his shoes scuffing softly against the cracked concrete as he approached Armaros. He kept his hands visible, palms slightly raised—a gesture meant to show he wasn’t a threat. The angel’s usually sharp presence had dulled, replaced by something raw and unsettled. BB could see it in the tension of his shoulders, the way his fingers curled into trembling fists against the ground. “Birdbrain? Hey,” whispered BB as if talking to a cornered animal. “...Hey, man. Talk to me.”

He glanced at GF and BS before stretching out a hand to shake Armaros’s shoulder in an attempt to coax a reaction, only for a harsh sting to come into contact with him. “Don’t— ” thundered Armaros, “ —Fucking touch me!”

BB recoiled, more from surprise than pain, his hand lingering midair as he stared at Armaros. The fallen angel had pushed himself to his feet in a single, sharp motion, collecting his dirtied bags. His entire body trembled, but his eyes burned with a fury that could melt steel, though, it was less searing from the poorly masked exhaustion.

“Alright,” softly said the blue-haired man, his hands dropping to his sides. “No touchin’. Got it.”

Behind him, GF and BS remained silent, their breaths shallow as they watched the exchange. GF clutched at BS’s arm, her earlier bravado replaced with wide-eyed uncertainty. BB didn’t glance back at them; his focus stayed entirely on Armaros, who now loomed with a volatile presence that threatened to snap at the slightest provocation.

“What the FUCK...” spat Armaros, his voice sharp but cracking slightly. He could feel his halo melting under his muted red beanie, but he didn’t give a single damn. “...Is wrong with all of you?!”

GF opened her mouth to respond, but BB quickly held up a hand behind him, silencing her. “They didn’t mean for this to get out of hand,” said BB, his tone steady, like a rope anchoring a swaying ship. “But you’ve gotta calm down, Birdbrain. You’re scarin’ the hell outta everyone.”

“Good,” snarled Aramaros, his concealed wing twitching under his clothing. “Maybe they’ll think twice before pulling this shit again! Or better, NOT AT ALL!”

“Alright, you’ve made your point,” evenly said BB. It wasn’t often he raised his voice, but even he could feel his patience wearing thin. “They get it. Hell, I get it. But this isn’t how ya’ wanna end it, man.”

The fallen scoffed as he tightened his grip on his bags, his knuckles white. “End it? You think I want anythin’ to do with this circus?” he growled. His golden eyes, rimmed with exhaustion, flicked between the three of them, daring someone to respond. “You think this is some kind of game ?” he continued, his voice rising. “Y’all think makin’ me paranoid every night is funny?! You’ve got your little demonic tricks,” he spat, glaring at GF, “and you—” his gaze snapped to BS—“you’re just as complicit, playin’ the mediator like that makes you innocent.”

The brunette's hands trembled as she lowered them fully, her magic fading completely now. Her demonic markings stopped glowing and the glimmer in her eyes flickered out as she fiddled with the sheer gloves she was wearing. “I just wanted to talk , ” said GF, her voice soft but defensive. “You didn’t have to act like—”

“Like what, demon? Like I don’t trust a single one of ya’?” Armaros cut in, stepping forward and making her flinch. “Well, guess what, princess—I don’t. You can smile all ya’ want, but underneath it, you’re just like the rest of your kind; another parasite with a pretty face, thinkin’ you can poke at the monster and come out clean!” His voice dripped with venom, and each word landed like a lash.

“Hey, that’s enough!” snapped BB, stepping between Armaros and the girls again, his stance firm. “You don’t get to talk to her like that.”

“And you—what are you?” growled Armaros, cutting him off. His eyes glinted red again, pupils narrowing dangerously as he zeroed in on BB, “Their little bodyguard? Always jumpin’ in like you’re the goddamn glue that holds everyone together? Newsflash, Meatsponge: You're not glue. You're the epitome of a butt plug; people-pleasing, up everyone's ass, and despite being shit on, you keep going even when it's clear you ain't wanted. So go fuck yourself."

The words hit BB like a punch and his brows knitted together, the silence suffocating between him and the girls. Armaros let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head. His golden eyes burned as he took a step back, his grip tightening on the crumpled shopping bags in his hand before turning around. “I don’t owe a damn thing to ANY of you. So leave me alone. All of you, ” he muttered, voice hoarse from yelling.

The tension was palpable as Armaros turned on his heel, his boots crunching against the cracked pavement. Nobody spoke, but GF’s heart was too big for her body. She hesitated but slowly slipped out of  BS’s grasp and prepared to jog after Armaros. “Angel dude, please—” she began, her voice trembling with an odd mix of desperation and regret. “Cherry, don’t!” cried BS, rushing forward to grab her, but it was too late.

GF barely got a couple of steps in, before in one fluid motion, Armaros spun around, his left hand snapping to the holster at his side. Before anyone could react, the gleam of cold steel was aimed directly at GF, his pistol unwavering as his finger hovered over the trigger. “Back. Off,” he hissed, his voice low and lethal as GF let out a high-pitched gasp and staggered back a few steps.  “Cherry!” shrieked BS, running to pull her back, but froze upon seeing Armaros glare at her, placing his finger on the trigger. Tears flooded her eyes, praying that Armaros wouldn’t pull it.

The world seemed to hold its breath, the tension crackling like static, but BB didn’t think—he moved. In a blur, he stepped between GF and the gun, his arms outstretched as if shielding her would somehow soften the blow. A ring echoed through his ears, shrinking everything down to just him and Armaros. “...Birdbrain,” quickly said BB, his voice calm but urgent. “Birdbrain, put that down. You listenin’ to me? C'mon... Put it down.”

Armaros froze, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of BB standing in front of GF, the image burning into his mind like a brand. BB’s wide ghostly eyes locked onto Armaros’s searing gold ones, a silent plea hanging between them. Armaros’s grip on the gun wavered, his breathing ragged as he stared at the person now shielding the girl he so despised. The déjà vu was suffocating, a bitter memory clawing its way to the surface. The last time BB had stood between him and a weapon, it had ended with a bloodstained bullet and a shattered life.

BB's breath hitched as slowly realized the picture. The street around him dissolved into a blur of shapes and muffled sounds as the weight of a memory surged forward. It was no longer Armaros in front of him—it was another figure entirely. Killer. Another place. Another time. The sharp tang of iron filled his senses as if his body remembered the metallic stench of blood pooling beneath him. His outstretched arms trembled, and his knees felt weak as a phantom warmth spread across his chest, where a bullet had once torn through him. His pulse thundered in his ears, drowning out GF's panicked cries and BS's pleading voice. A sharp, shaky sigh from Armaros was the tether that yanked him back to the present—yet it was only a fraction of reality he could grasp. "Michael?" GF's voice quivered behind him. She tugged gently at his sleeve, her fingers cold against his burning skin. "Michael, are you okay? Please, say something."

But BB couldn’t respond. His lips moved soundlessly, his throat constricting as if the air itself had turned to ash. Everything zoned down to just the two of them as Armaros just stared at the tip of his gun that was perfectly aimed at BB's chest, but it wasn't like BB was paying attention to that; Armaros was just Killer right now. BB hunched slightly as the phantom pain refused to let go, each breath sharp and shallow. His vision narrowed, tunnelling toward the gleaming gun still aimed vaguely in his direction. "Not again," he whispered, barely audible, the words slipping past his lips without his consent. "Not... not again. Please. Don’t."

Disgust flickered across Armaros's face at those words, though, it wasn’t directed outward—it was aimed squarely at himself. His eyes flickered towards BB's terrorized expression. “You...” the fallen began, his voice barely above a whisper. “Put it down!” barked BB, his voice cracking, louder than he’d intended. He recoiled at the sound of his own desperation, but the fear was too raw, too consuming to suppress. His voice echoed on its own, much like how the ghosts he knew would speak. “Just put it down!”

The words hit Armaros like a physical blow. His grip on the gun tightened reflexively before his arm trembled and began to lower, inch by inch. Time seemed to slow, nothing but the sound of BB's ragged breathing echoing through the space. What had Armaros done? The fallen exhaled sharply through his nose, his expression hardening as he shoved the gun back into his coat. “You’re... all insane,” he growled. He took a step back, his glare sweeping over BB, GF, and BS before settling on BB with a bitterness that cut deeper than any weapon, yet upon seeing him, the fallen's gaze dulled. “Stay the hell away from me,” coldly said Armaros. His tone carried a finality that left no room for argument. Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, his movements stiff and unyielding. The alleyway swallowed him up in seconds as he turned a corner, leaving the three of them standing in stunned silence.

BB remained frozen in place, his arms still half-raised as though shielding GF from a threat that no longer existed. His breathing was shallow, uneven, and the tremor in his hands was impossible to miss. “Michael!” GF’s voice broke through the haze, sharp with panic. She moved closer, her hands gripping his arm firmly now. “Michael, it’s okay. He’s gone. Nothing happened, you're okay.” Her words were frantic, desperate to reach him.

BB didn’t respond. His eyes were unfocused, locked on the spot where Armaros had stood moments before. He could still feel the weight of that gun, see the faint glint of light on its metal barrel. The memories swirled together in a sickening vortex—past and present blending into one indistinguishable nightmare. His breath hitched again, and his knees began to buckle.

“Khole!” GF called out, and BS was at her side in an instant, her hands steady despite the tears streaming down her face. Together, they eased BB down onto the cracked pavement, grounding him as best they could. GF knelt in front of him, her hands cupping his face gently. “Michael, listen to me. Focus on my voice, okay? Look at me. Just look at me. I'm okay, Khole's okay, you're okay. Nobody's hurt.”

His gaze flickered, struggling to find her, to stay in the present. “I-I...” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers dug into his chest as if trying to claw out the phantom pain. “I thought— I thought he was gonna—” His words caught in his throat, choked by the rising tide of panic. “He didn’t,” softly said BS, hugging her twin from behind. Her voice was calm, soothing, though her own fear was evident in her trembling hands. BB’s body shuddered as he drew in a shaky breath, his throat tight. GF and BS stayed close, their presence anchoring him as he fought against the flood of emotions threatening to drown him. The cold pavement beneath him felt distant, unreal, like everything else at that moment. He rubbed at his chest again, desperate to banish the lingering pain and so that he didn't need GF to call her dad for this dumb heart of his.

“Breathe, Onii-san,” quietly urged BS, taking off her brother's hat and rubbing his head. BB closed his eyes, trying to steady himself. Each inhale felt jagged, and each exhale barely pushed the suffocating weight from his chest, but he followed her instructions. Slowly, the haze began to lift. The muffled sounds of the world sharpened, the faint hum of the city coming back into focus as if he removed a pair of earplugs that had been wedged in for too many hours.

His heartbeat had thrummed a steady beat now, but it didn’t bring relief. BB opened his eyes, his gaze drifting past GF to where Armaros had disappeared. His jaw clenched. He wasn’t okay—not entirely—and neither were the girls. They had a lot to answer for, and the sting of Armaros’s parting words only added to the knot tightening in his chest. “You two...” BB’s voice was low and rough, barely masking the simmering anger beneath. The girls froze and slowly looked away, now sporting looks akin to a pair of kids who got caught with their hands in the cookie jar. “We–... Uhm...” muttered GF, scratching the back of her head, exchanging looks with BS that screamed ‘busted’.

BB dragged a hand down his face with a shaky exhale. “You have a lot of explaining to do, ladies.”