Chapter 1: When One Door Closes

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—Part One: Angel—

"Fuck's sake, Angel—"

"I don't wanna hear it," Angel snapped, throwing another armful of his now-ex-boyfriend's shit off the balcony and into the parking lot below. Leaning forward over the railing, he went on, "I already gave you too goddamn many chances, ya lazy fuck, and you ain't earned one of 'em. If you can't even pretend you give a shit, I'm done tryin'!"

"Will you quit bein' such a fuckin' drama queen?" Tyco growled, trying to snatch one of his shirts out of the air before it could hit the ground. "Look, I was drunk last night and—"

"Oh yeah? Ya been drunk half the time we were goin' out?" Angel asked, leaning over the rail even farther. "'Cause it ain't like that was the first time you screwed up."

The sonofabitch had the nerve to roll his eyes, like he hadn't been completely neglecting Angel for weeks now. He'd never been the clingiest or most attentive guy, which Angel mostly didn't mind, but it was becoming real obvious lately that Tyco totally took him for granted. The final straw was the night before when he had a pal over—at Angel's apartment—and the motherfucker was drooling over Angel the entire time. Ty acted like he didn't even notice! Then after they'd all had a few drinks, his buddy took it a step further and asked if they wanted a fucking threesome! Angel figured that would be enough to get Tyco's attention and make him show some kinda investment in their relationship.

Except all Ty did was raise his eyebrows and grin like he was down for it if Angel was. What the fuck kinda guy acted like that when his boyfriend was getting hit on by someone else? Did he care at all? Or did he just see Angel as some kind of toy he could share with his pals? Well, he wasn't fucking having it; he locked himself in his room the rest of the night, and while Tyco was at work today, Angel called his sister over to help him get rid of the bastard's shit.

"Will you get lost already?" Molly squealed, stomping out onto the balcony and throwing another armful of clothes down. Angel had to turn away for a second to hide his grin; Molly was just so damn cute when she got pissed off, and seeing her lecture Ty was beyond satisfying. "Look, this is all on you. He said he doesn't wantcha here, so take the L and move the fuck on. Maybe next time you'll get your shit together and act right so ya don't get dropped like a bad fuckin' habit."

"Shut the hell up; this's got nothin' to do with you," Tyco barked, and Molls had to hold Angel back as he chucked a wadded up T-shirt at his ex's head.

"Don't talk to her like that, you fuckin' figlio di puttana!"

"Angie, be careful! You're gonna break your neck," Molly told him, grabbing his shirt to keep him from vaulting over the railing.

"Listen up, fuckstain," said a fourth voice from below as a peach-haired gal at the bottom of the stairs stepped forward to get Tyco's attention. She kept her hands in her pockets and rested her weight on one hip, her voice a little scratchy as she went on, "My girl's toldja to leave a time or two already. I don't wanna hafta force you, but if ya stick around much longer, it's gonna constitute a threat, and I can't have that. So, y'know. Your call."

She stood real still while she waited on him to make up his mind, but it didn't take long; even a moron like him knew better than to try to fight a tom. He shot Angel a kind of sorry look—too little, too late—then went around gathering up his clothes and chains and piles of shitty old records from the parking lot.

"That's right, asshole, walk away," Angel hissed. Then he went back inside to stay, ready to put yet another fucking disaster of a relationship behind him. He wasn't even sure why he kept trying at this point. It was kind of early for a drink, but since he didn't have work that night, he wasn't going to let that stop him.

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