I touch your face. You're an angel. There's no way you can be human. Your eyes twitch a bit as my fingers brush against your cheek but you don't wake up. My fingers brush against the bruises on your face, and I have to suppress my anger again. There's no one here to take it out on. I'll preserve it until later, so I can release on the one who did this to you. You swear now that you won't tell me, but I'll get it somehow. People like them always brag about the "fags" they beat up. They'll find out when one of those fags leaves them lying on the sidewalk coughing up blood. No one hurts an angel and gets away with it. Especially not my angel.

You moan a little and roll over. I know you still hurt. They broke your ribs, of course you do. I move carefully behind you, positioning myself so I can hold you without causing you pain. You curve subconsciously against me, your expression troubled even in your sleep.

I love you, I love you so much.

You're the first thing I ever felt this kind of passion for. People say those who have never been given love can never give it to others. They say we can't understand it. I guess I'm the exception. I've never had anyone. My mother hated me. She never wanted me. The schools hated me. I was just another troubled Indian, I didn't know to behave. I dropped out after the eighth grade and fell into a rut. The only things in my life were drugs and alcohol. My mother was long gone. I was working full-time, and blowing my cash on pot. I didn't have a place to call home most of the time.

Then I found you. Or did you find me? I was on the side of the road, wasted. You took me home, you took care of me. I loved you from the moment I awoke in your house in those soft sheets when you came in to check on me.

I haven't touched alcohol or marijuana since that day. I knew you'd hate it, I knew you brought me home with you to save me, and save me you did. You were the first person to ever show me compassion, or love or even a backward glance.

Was it instant for you too? Did you love me the same way I love you the second you saw me on that street? It doesn't matter, you love me now. You keep me safe here in your house, you keep me away from the temptations. I think I'd die if I didn't have you there to take care of me. I pretend to be strong, and I guess when it comes down to it I am. And I'm older then you are in mind if not in years. At twenty six you readily admit that it feels I'm the elder, even if I am only nineteen. But age has no meaning. The only thing that matters is how you feel when we're laying together like this, with my arms around you.

I remember when you kissed me. You had to do it first, I was too scared. You had asked me if I had a place to stay and I had told you I did. But you knew I lied, and you stopped me from walking out the door. Maybe you did love me instantly.

Then you pushed me up against the wall - gently, of course - and then you did it. It was so soft, so loving so unlike anything I'd ever been given. But you broke away too quickly, looking scared. I guess you thought I'd hate you for it. But I could never hate you. I pulled you back. I knew that I wanted to feel like this for the rest of my life.

I'd never believed in God. I didn't even know who he was most of my life. My mother wasn't exactly religious. But after I moved in with you, you converted me. I am a Christian, I love God. I love Him as much as I love you. Because you made me see. I can see that He loves me. Because if He had forgotten me the way I thought He did He never would have given me to you.

I cleaned up when I moved in with you, I became a completely different person. I'd see people I knew in grade school, who wouldn't recognize me and smile as they passed. I became someone people noticed in a way that didn't make me feel worthless. Girls would check me out as they walked by, . My self esteem began to grow steadily. I found a better job, I made better friends. I barely even thought about my old life. It felt like it was merely an old late night movie I had watched years ago.

You fed onto these feelings. Every night you reassured me that I deserved this. You always wanted me to feel more of everything. More love, more happiness, more pleasure. And I never wanted to leave you.

I hated my mother from the moment I was born. You replaced any feeling I ever felt for anyone. I never thought I would be angry again. I believed fully that you had erased all those thoughts from my mind.

That is until you stumbled through the door to our apartment. The blood was pouring from your nose and the bruises were all too apparent along your face and neck. Your clothes were ripped and for a moment I was terrified that something much worse had happened. But you hadn't been violated sexually and I was relieved. You were hurt but not broken. I'd kill them before they could ever break you.

You shift again and I pull you closer. I can feel your pain in my mind, I wish so badly that I could feel it all for you. I'd take it all away.

"I'd die for you," I whisper, into your ear.

They say what we have is wrong, evil, disgusting. But they don't know you. They don't know that you're really an angel. God sent the angels here to save us, to bring joy to our lives. Without you I'd still be on that street corner, dying. I wouldn't have found myself, I wouldn't have found God.

God loves us. I know that, and you know that. We don't need them to believe it, as long as we do. He doesn't look at our genders. Two men who love each other are still two men, with the ability to love. God wanted the world to be filled with love, and you are full of nothing but. You tried to destroy the hate and anger in me, and I thought you succeeded. But if those men want to take God's business into their own hands and condemn you for our supposed sins then I shall do the same. They'll never touch you again. I'll make sure no one does. For every mark on your body I shall double it on theirs.

Angels are never meant to be harmed. They are flawless in every sense. They should remain that way.

I'll kill the person who hurt my angel.

Your eyes open and you turned to look at me.

"It hurts," you whisper softly.

I kiss you softly. "I know." I leave you for a moment and get you some Tylenol. After you take it you pull me close. I like it like this. As much as I need you, I need to feel you need me too. Every night you let me know that without me you'd be lost too.

I lean down to kiss you again. "Tell me," I whisper.

You shake your head. "I don't know," you lie. Then you kiss me again, just to shut me up I know. I let it go. Your head lays against my shoulder and I squeeze you close to me.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll find out who hurt you.