C H A P T E R - T H R E E

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He felt, the blue guy, soft, hard, rough

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He felt, the blue guy, soft, hard, rough. Shadows was holding his breath, squeezing his throat tightly, it burned–he burned, the blue man did. It dazed him, moved, fell, floated. He wanted him, the angel... it was an angel? A blue angel. It twisted in a wide smile, then frowned, the ice broke, angel gone, swallowed.

He couldn't blink, his eyes closed, he wasn't in the station anymore.

'Blue angel?' was the first thing Arlo thought once he woke up on Boston's couch

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'Blue angel?' was the first thing Arlo thought once he woke up on Boston's couch. His bushy brown eyebrows pinched together in confusion; he knew he had hallucinations when he is drugged, more intense ones if he is drugged plus drinking alcohol or smoking something (weed, cigarettes, or a vape), however, that angel felt real... too real for comfort.

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