He drops his coat on the ground, allowing himself to slump against the wall in a brief moment of relaxation. Once again, unannounced, the angel comes knocking at his door. “What, here to gloat?” He stands from the wall and questions the angel, a repeating cycle he wished to end. The angel is suddenly in front of him, squinting in confusion “why would I? I’ve lost as well.” There’s a moment of silence, then the angel loosens his gaze “you’re hurt, let me heal you.” He nods and returns to his spot on the ground, the angel follows. Resting a hand on his cheek, feeling the energy flow from the angel to him, a moment of peace midst the chaos. “Why do you heal me?” He asks, the angel stares in confusion “what?” “I said, why do you heal me? You seem to be the only person concerned about my wounds, you take away time just to make sure I’m fine. I can’t stand you.” The angel turns to face him “then why do you listen to me? Why, if you can’t stand it, do you let me heal you?” The silence only broken by breathing, a question he never thought of. He never did think someone may want him to be okay, much less he would let them help him. He had never thought of this before, he had never thought of wanting help, before the angel. “I don’t know.” He stands from the wall, followed by the angel. He says a goodbye and the angel is gone. He picks up his coat and drapes it over the night stand, then falls into a restless sleep.