My lamb, come to your shepard. (male!y/n x alternate Gabriel)

0. A GIFT OF MEMORY.

The young boy lays down on the soft grass, looking up at the sky above, fading clouds slowly passing by him, creating shadows on the ground around where he lay, the warm summer sun beating down on his wet skin- drying up the liquid.

He had just come back from a water gun fight near his neighbors house, it seemed all the surrounding blocks kids came, for, there was not much to do in early July around the middle of nowhere. when something was going on, it seemed that, everyone knew about it.

He breathes deeply, the clear air entering and exiting his nostrils, it was so perfect outside- and even better; the afternoon was still young, he still had the whole day to roam around and enjoy this glorious day- he should get up anyways, his mom warned him of ticks.

He slowly rises up to a sitting position and then to his feet, bringing his little water gun up with him, noticing it still had some juice left, he quickly looks around and sprays some into his mouth-

"Y/N M/N L/N!" His mother shouted, Making Y/N jump and look quickly over to his mothers and his own house to see her standing in the entryway, he was so mindless he couldn't hear the regular door and screen door open-

"Get in here right NOW! What did I tell you about drinking hose water?!- I swear- one day your gonna get worms in your stomach or some other awful thing!" his mother sighed; Y/N squirms a bit, thinking of the outcome of worms in his stomach, kids at school would surely be horrified if they found him puking up worms, after all, he heard a girl in his school ate a watermelon seed and grew a WHOLE watermelon in her stomach, the next day he heard she had to get it surgically removed and when they did her stomach sagged all the way to the floor!- that is a fate he REALLY did not want.

Y/N's mother waves her hand in a gesture for him to come inside "Come back in, Birdie! I made some brownies for you and me to share!" Y/N's eyes lit up at the promise for his moms brownies, they where the absolute best in the world, and you could quote him on that. Though, he slightly blushed at the nickname, his mom called him "Birdie" since he was born, he always thought it was extremely embarrassing nickname- especially when she called him that in front of his friends, though, it always meant he wasn't in trouble.

Y/N, while running, drops his water gun to the ground, being immediately forgotten in replacement of brownies- and he quickly storms into the house and races to the small kitchen, slowing down at the sight of his mother taking the hot tin brownies out of the oven with her large, fluffy oven mitts. Setting the chocolatey dessert down on the counter, Y/N quickly runs over to take a large piece out with his dirty fist, his mother slightly slapped his hand away.

"Ohhhh no you don't Birdie, young man before you grab those brownies you best wash your damn hands! And you wait to eat it till' you are served a plate, understood?" Y/N frowned gloomily, mad that his oh-so-strict mother was making him wash his dirty hands, he huffed and stomped over to the bathroom, his mother could hear the water running for a few seconds, and immediately Y/N walks out with a big smile on his face. Seemingly proud of himself, but his mother quickly waves her hand as a gesture for him to go back inside the bathroom and redo washing them, Y/N sticks his tongue out at her and runs back outside, jumping on the crisp green grass and rolling around in the dirt, his mother, gasping dramatically, runs out laughing after him, kneeling down in the grass and throwing some dirt on herself, giggling all the while.

Y/N stops rolling on the ground, trying to catch his breath, crawling over and hugging his mother. She tenderly brushes her fingers through his hair, "Oh Birdie- What am I going to do with you?" She whispers, looking up at the blue sky.

Bbblu- skyyyyyyyyyy-y

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GABRIEL tenderly brushes HIS fingers through HIS LADYBIRDS hair, "M̶̨̡̟̙͇̻̫͌̌͂̓̄̎̉̈́͜Ỵ̴̧̨̳̗͔̺͕̖̻̰̠͛̈́̋͛̾̾̂̏͐̊̉̐͊͘͜͠N̶̛̤̰̳̜̻̤̼̥̜̰̦̘̘͒͛̇̾̓͛̾͋͒È̵͔̻̹̜̘̮̭̣̺̦̿̈͊̀̑̽̇̈̓̑̏̒͆ͅM̷̡̢̯̞̩͚̹̖̾̈́̉̔̈́̈́͋͒͘͜͝Y̷̛̰̣̘̠̲̻̠̒̈́͐͐̑̾͛̽́̈̈̕͘͠N̸̛̘̖̳͙̮̠̙̝̽̋̉̈̀̎̅Ẹ̶̡̬̟̰̣̣̅̉͐M̴̭͎̜̰̖̜̯̯͎̏̄̃̒̒͆̿̓̕͜͜ͅỴ̸̗̲͑̄̓͗̀̿̆̂͘͘̚͜͠N̴̰̓̇̽̂̓̍͠͝Ě̴͕̣̟̤̺̑̓̾̽̋͊͆̄̓̐̈́̕M̷̫͎͍̩̯̥̖̒͂̈́̓̊̈́̓͒̌̆̈́͛̿̚Ÿ̸̺̥̹̙̮͈͚̥̞̰̜́͐͜ͅͅN̷̻̹͙̺̾͌̄́̽̈́͠Ȩ̶̲͍̻̱̬̲͓͙͋̉͑" HE SCREAMS, looking up at the NIGHT.

Y̷̬̖̙͍̣͉͈̭͕͊̍̂̏̉̂̓́͠O̸̝̥͔̕͘Ų̵̦͔̘͚̔ ̸̨͓̘̠̟̇̄͊̈́̀̓͝Ç̷̬̝͉̬̯͎͉̟͙͈̺̠̔̇̈́̌͒̇͂͑͘͝ͅA̶̧̫̟̯̞̳͈̹̻̝̳̫͇͙̽̑̽̓̔͐̕͝N̴̲̱͂͌͘͠T̴̡̧̛̜͈̞͖̯̘̹̪͎͌͋̀̔̄́͌̋̉́͝ ̷̡̡̡͎̪̰̞̳̰͉̙̈́͋͜H̶̨̠̍̓I̷̜̬̮̭͆̾̆̌́̅̊̔̓̄́͘͘D̴̼̙̳͚͎̬͖̖̟̩̺̯̦͒̂͊̔͋̕ͅÈ̶̯̈́͗̓̕͠,̴̢̭̥̮̣̐̋̾̈̔̉̽͆̒͘ ̷̧̧̛͎̙͉͎̼͎͇̼͈̝̯͒́͂̊͒́͆̒͒̕͝ͅM̵̢̛̔̆̉̃̎͛́̚͝͠Y̸̡͎̠̗̗̯͑̏͜N̵̯̍͒̋͆E̶̢̮̬̺̗͉̱̍̓̾̉̉͋͝ ̶̹̀͆̊̆̑͛̿Ḽ̶̢͓͉̗̮͚̣̘͚͛̽̄͂͋̃̌Ơ̴̺̤͍͎̺̓̈́͆̇̚V̶̧̥̞̳̗͑̓͌̃͑̏̉̊́́̆͂̃Ę̸̣̟̣͖̫̞̲͔͐̃̎̽̅̽̍͆͗̔̕̕͘͝Ţ̴̛̻͕̯̜̥͎̻͇̮͆͐̓̽̑͌̂̋̈́̓̚̕H̶͖͆̕͝.̷͓̈̆̃͐́̈́͝