DAMIAN'S POV
The steady beeping of a heart monitor pulled me from unconsciousness. My eyelids felt like they were weighted down, but I forced them open, blinking against the brightness of the hospital room. As my vision adjusted, I took in the IV stand beside me, the sterile scent of antiseptic in the air.
"Hospital?"
I groaned, my throat dry and scratchy, and suddenly, a blur of movement entered my peripheral vision.
"DAMIANNNNNN!"
Before I could even react, Erick practically launched himself at my bedside, voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. "I thought you were dead or in a coma! I was so fucking worried!" He sniffled dramatically, rubbing his eyes like a toddler.
"What… happened?" My voice was hoarse, and even speaking felt like sandpaper against my throat.
"You got jumped! Who the hell did you piss off to get beaten up like that? Are you okay? How do you feel? Do you need help sitting up?"
"Yeah… please."
He scrambled for the remote control on the bedside table, pressing a button. The bed whirred as it slowly adjusted, raising me into a sitting position.
"Cool, right?" he grinned, clearly trying to lighten the mood.
"Hmm." I scanned the room, my mind still sluggish. Then, my gaze settled on Erick, and suddenly, I remembered. The fight. The things we said. The fact that we hadn't spoken all day before—whenever this was.
"Erick…"
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry about Saturday. I didn't mean what I said—"
"It's okay, Damian." He cut me off with a dismissive wave. "I should be the one apologizing. You were right. I should've realized how much of a break you needed instead of just brushing you off. Sorry."
We sat in silence for a moment, him idly playing with the edge of my blanket, me just looking at him, taking in how exhausted he seemed.
So much had happened lately.
"Erick… I don't even know how to say this without sounding insane, but—"
"Try me," he smirked.
I huffed out a weak laugh and told him everything.
I told him about the strange feeling of being watched, the random unease, and the bizarre TV signal. I told him about the dreams I couldn't remember, the man I kept seeing everywhere, and the two-headed deer. I told him about Cassiel. About how absolutely mind-breaking it was to meet a literal angel when I had spent my entire life thinking none of this supernatural bullshit was real.
And then, almost as an afterthought, I added, "Oh, and Cat and I have been getting really close lately."
Erick's eyes widened, but before he could interrupt, I kept going—because once I started, I couldn't stop.
I told him how it was all too much, happening too fast for me to process.
When I finally stopped, slumping back against the pillows, Erick exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face.
"Shit, man…" He shook his head. "I'm so sorry you had to go through all that."
"...Wait." I narrowed my eyes. "You mean to say you're going through something similar?"
"Yep." He popped the 'p' and leaned back in his chair like we were talking about something as casual as weekend plans. "My angel actually tried to kill me, unlike yours, who's been trying to protect you. Scary lady."
"It's a woman?"
"Yep. And she's terrifying and stiff. I dare to say even worse than you."
I scoffed. "I give her a month."
We both laughed, the tension finally melting away, and I realized this—this stupid, bantering conversation—was exactly what I needed.
A long-overdue talk with Erick.
"Oh, where's Cassiel?" I asked after a moment.
"Your angel? He said he had some business to handle real quick. He's been taking care of you, though. Like, really taking care of you. Dude's been in full-on guardian mode."
I hummed, closing my eyes for a moment and exhaling deeply. Erick filled the silence with his usual updates, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself breathe.