The Gifts -Narry & Ziam- (AU) *Completed*

Prologue

He was wearing a loose, cotton white v-neck and the shirt was sticking to his tanned skin with sweat. His spine was indented on either side of his backbone, and his wings were rolled up and tucked up until night time came and he can finally be free. He could be free of the pain that day light brought, and the horror that came along with awakening to a breaching sun, and the terror that came with the sound of gunshots and the thick loneliness of opening your eyes to nothing but a grungy alleyway, and the pockmarks of needle prints in your arm.

Finally he was able to snap them out, with the power and precision of someone who’d run through these actions countless times before. He launched himself into the air, and when his feet were no longer touching the rooftop, he let his wings take control and pump themselves up and down. A zing of pain went down his right side and he knew his right wing had grazed cement, but he angled the feather tips upwards and let the current of hot air sweep under his wings, and the cool graze the top.

His wings were the color of milk, creamy and white, and the rim of each feather was a purple so dark it almost blended in with the night. He did only a few tense circles, letting the kinks out of the patches of skin surrounding his wings, in then dipped a little before hovering with his shoes parallel to the ground. He could only do a few laps tonight, he knew he had a deal to make with a few thugs and he didn’t have time to mess around.

So after a few swings and one or two pull up dives, he coasted over to the roof of the station and dropped nimbly to his feet. He was reaching down to pick up his sweater when he felt something wrap around his waist, restricting his arms to his sides with a viper like grip.

He struggled, throwing his head back and hitting someone in the nose with his skull, he heard the sound of someone’s bones crackling. He swung his leg, trying to hit someone in their kneecap, but his arms were restricted and the person holding him had him in such a tight grip he ended up just bucking wildly and lashing out with his head and scratching with his fingernails. In then a second man, one Zayn hadn’t seen, clamped a rag over the lonely boys’ mouth and his senses were overwhelmed by the sickly sweet scent of chloroform. He just had the sense to pull in his wings as his vision darkened and he blacked out.

~…~

Liam was walking down the familiar streets of Wolverhampton with his hood up. Night was beckoning, and the sun was sinking beneath the clouds in the west. Liam’s ears were cold, and he was kind of regretting the spur of the moment decision in shaving his head, because he missed his flopping curls and the warmth they brought. Instead he walked home in the semi-darkness, the period where the street-lights were just flickering on, and kept his hands pushed into his pockets. He wasn’t really noticed, and no one turned their heads on the street to see him. He was shy, and riddled with the bruises of past beatings, and his eyes showed the cringing of those beatings yet to come.

He heard the squeal of tires, and turned his head just in time to see a young red-headed woman get struck down by a van. He felt the pulsating tingle in his palms, and he pulled his gloved hands out of his trousers and looked at them sharply for a second. The gloves were thick and warm, and earned him lots of weird looks in the summer time, but right now he ripped them off with his teeth and took off at a sprint.

He knew it would hurt. It would hurt him beyond belief, it would send bullets through his skull and it’d take days to recover, but the girl was just laying sprawled out on the ground and how could he leave someone wounded when he knew he could save her?

So he sprinted across the one way street with his heart in his throat and when he reached the woman he knelt down and searched for injuries without touching her. He wanted to have his hands on her for as short amount of time as possible, because that would make it easier for him and his recovery time shorter.