The city looked blurred, dreamlike through the rain-streaked window.
But Ethan's mind wasn't—every gear spun with one obsession: Angel.
He leaned against the window frame, one shoulder propped lazily while his eyes traced the trails of rain carving down the glass.
How to make him stay.
How to win him.
How to crack the silence and get past that wall.
A flash of headlights cut through the downpour below, and a figure emerged from the shadows—Gabriel.
His shirt clung to him, rain slicking over broad shoulders, jaw tight, eyes darker than the storm itself.
Ethan's breath caught, and for a second he almost forgot his own name.
The door shut behind Gabriel with a sharp thud. Water dripped from his hair, trailing down his neck.
Ethan's grin came too easily. "Angel… you're dripping all over your own floor. Want me to towel you down?"
No answer. Just the scrape of boots kicked off. Gabriel shrugged out of his jacket, muscles flexing beneath the soaked fabric.
Ethan's gaze lingered—too long, too obvious.
"Damn," Ethan muttered, half under his breath, "God really knew what He was doing."
Gabriel turned, eyes flicking towards him,blanket kicked haphazardly aside.
Their gazes locked for a beat too long.
Ethan stretched, casual, then let his hand slide across his own thigh with deliberate ease, smirking. "Come here. Sit. You'll warm up faster."
The change was immediate.
Gabriel froze, then his eyes sharpened—dark and dangerous. He closed the distance in three strides, grip iron around Ethan's wrist.
"Don't," Gabriel bit out, voice low but sharp enough to cut through the rain hammering outside.
Ethan's grin faltered, confusion flashing before he tried to mask it with a nervous chuckle. "What..touching your thigh? Relax, Angel, I was just...."
"Just what?" Gabriel's voice rose, rough and furious now. "I warned you. Don't cross the line."
Ethan swallowed, startled at the rawness in his tone. "It's not a big deal, I was only—"
"It is a big deal," Gabriel snapped, releasing his wrist like it burned him. "My space. My rules. You don't get to..." He stopped himself, jaw clenching so hard Ethan could see the muscle jump. His chest heaved, rain still dripping down, every muscle strung tight. "You don't get to play games here."
The silence that followed cracked heavier than thunder. Ethan sat there, wrist stinging, eyes wide.
Gabriel didn't wait. He hauled the door open, rain rushing in with a cold spray. "Get out."
Ethan blinked. "What?"
"You heard me." Gabriel's voice was steel. "You wanted to test me? Fine. Now get out. I don't care if it's raining. You won't stay here another minute."
The storm howled through the doorway, soaking the edges of the room.
Ethan's blanket slipped from his lap, puddling at his feet. He hesitated, throat tight, but Gabriel's glare left no room for games.
He means it.
Slowly, Ethan pushed himself up, rain misting his face as he stepped toward the door.
His heart pounded not just from the cold, but from the way Gabriel's fury still lingered, wild and untouchable.
For the first time, Ace the Great… didn't have a witty line.
The rain hit him like glass cold, relentless, soaking through his clothes in seconds.
Ethan stood just outside the doorway, blinking against the downpour as if stunned, then let out a soft laugh bitter, fragile.
"Fine," he muttered to himself, voice nearly drowned by thunder. "Throw me out. See if I care."
But the shake in his hands betrayed him.
His leg throbbed with every step as he limped down the street, the confidence he'd worn so easily now dissolving in the rain.
Within moments, he was swallowed by the storm.
Inside, Gabriel leaned against the closed door, jaw locked tight, chest still rising and falling like he hadn't caught his breath.
The echo of Ethan's smirk, the reckless way he said Angel, still burned in his head.
And yet—so did the look in his eyes when Gabriel shoved him away.
Damn it.
He shoved a hand through his wet hair, pacing once, twice. He's not my problem. He crossed the line. He had it coming.
But the argument didn't hold.
His gut twisted, and the image of that ridiculous boy limping into the rain wouldn't leave him.
He saw Ethan's stubborn grin, heard his fake bravado—'I'm fine, I can handle myself'—and underneath it, a flicker of something far too raw.
"Idiot," Gabriel muttered under his breath.
Only this time, he wasn't sure if he meant Ethan… or himself.
Grabbing his jacket, he shrugged it on in one swift motion, snatched the umbrella leaning by the door, and stormed outside.
The rain hit him again—cold and punishing but he didn't care.
The street stretched ahead, blurred by water and shadow. He scanned left, right. No sign of Ethan. His pulse spiked.
"Ace!" Gabriel shouted, his voice cutting through the storm. It sounded strange, calling that name, but it was all he had. "Ace! Where the hell are you?"
Only rain answered. Water pooled at his boots, running down his face despite the umbrella.
He stepped further into the street, eyes darting into alleys, searching every shadow.
"Ace!" He shouted again, louder this time, his voice rough with something he didn't want to name. "You're injured—damn it, stop hiding! You can't outrun me like this."
His chest tightened.
He'd thrown him out. Bleeding. Defenseless. And for what—because of a touch? Because the boy's presence unsettled him too much?
Gabriel clenched his fist, umbrella trembling in his grip.
For the first time in years, fear—not anger—pressed into him. 'What if those men found him again? What if the storm swallowed him whole?'
"Idiot," Gabriel whispered again, softer this time. The word cracked like something fragile in his throat.
And still, he pushed forward, rain streaming down his face, calling into the storm:
"Ace!"
Rain blurring his vision, boots splashing through shallow rivers that had formed on the pavement.
His voice was rough from shouting, but he didn't care.
Then, just ahead—beyond a broken streetlamp and a narrow corner—he saw a figure.
Ace.
He was pressed against a damp wall, half-hidden in shadow.
His body shook, hands trembling, soaked clothes plastered to his skin.
His head was bowed, forehead against the brick, lips moving in broken fragments Gabriel could barely catch.
"…Mom… don't go… please don't… not again…"
The sound nearly stopped Gabriel's heart.
Not the cocky, bratty boy. Not Ace the Great.
Just a lost child whispering into the storm.
"Ace," Gabriel breathed, his own chest tightening, but his legs moved before thought caught up.
He closed the distance fast, umbrella snapping open above them, shielding the trembling boy from the downpour.
Ethan jerked at the sudden shelter, blinking up through the curtain of wet hair.
His eyes—wide, glassy, caught between fear and relief—found Gabriel's face.
For a moment, neither spoke.
The rain pounded around them, but beneath the umbrella it was quieter, as if the world itself hushed.
"Angel…" Ethan whispered, voice cracked, fragile.
Then—suddenly, desperately—he threw his arms around Gabriel's waist, clinging to him like he might vanish if he let go.
Gabriel stiffened, breath caught, but only for a second.
The boy was shaking so hard he could feel it through his soaked clothes.
His hands, trembling, clutched at Gabriel's back with a fear that no witty line could ever mask.
Gabriel lowered his chin, the umbrella tilting just enough to keep Ethan covered.
His free hand hesitated before finally—slowly—settling on the boy's damp hair.
"I've got you," he murmured, his voice deep but soft, carrying over the rain. "You're not alone. Not this time."
Ethan pressed his face harder against Gabriel's chest, words muffled but raw. "I… I hate the rain. I hate it… always takes something away from me…" His voice broke, shuddering with the storm.
Gabriel held him tighter, the heat of the boy's body burning even through the chill of the downpour.
His jaw clenched, but his heart traitorous, unguarded softened.
"Then let it take nothing tonight," Gabriel said quietly, resolute. "Not you. Not now."
Ethan's grip tightened, fingers curling into Gabriel's jacket like he was afraid to believe it.
And Gabriel-who had spent years building walls, who had learned to keep everyone at arm's length—found himself pulling the boy closer instead of pushing him away.
"Come on," Gabriel said softly, shifting the umbrella to cover them both better. "Let's go home."
Home.
The word slipped out before he could stop it.
And somehow, it felt right.