"Please don't leave me Lou. Don't leave me please. Keep breathing love. Just keep breathing."
Louis wanted to reach out to the beautiful voice and tell them not to cry. A voice that beautiful shouldn't have to cry for someone like him.
"No no no no no! Please don't leave Louis! I can't keep losing you!" The voice sobbed. "Don't die. Don't die. Just . . . don't go." He felt large, soft hands at his face and warm raindrops fall across his forehead.
All he could see was darkness and he felt a gentle hum float about his body. His eyelids were so heavy, but he wanted to look at the face the heartbreaking sobbing was coming from. He wanted to reassure that voice that he was okay, just a bit tired.
Cool, gentle lips pressed against his forehead and his heart gave a weak shutter. He would kiss that person back, but first he wanted to take a quick nap. Ten minutes, and then he would kiss those pair of lips that belonged to the achingly familiar stranger.
"NO! NO! LOUIS! Nonononono. Please, God don't do this. Don't take him away. Please, Father, I'll do anything. Please." A hand brushed through Louis' hair, whispering, "Stay with me Louis. Just stay. Don't go this time. Not again Lou-Lou, you promised. You promised me you'd stay."
Louis wanted to tell the voice that he was going to stay. But he was too tired to speak or think. Louis wasn't going anywhere, and he'd be here when he woke up from his nap. He sighed heavily, letting his chest swell and compress.
"LOUIS? LOUIS!" Cries pierced his ears as the blanket of unconscienceness settled over him. Hands wrapped around his and he felt a wet, salty kisses being pressed onto his lips. "I'm so sorry Lou. I'm so sorry."
Before Louis could tell the soft whispers that he'd be awake soon, he drifted away into the darkest part of his mind. Before the heavy drapes closed him off to the world, he heard from afar the voice promise, "I'll see you soon."
-x-
Sunlight glared down onto his eyelids, causing them to flutter and shrink away from the light streaming through the open window. Louis groaned and flipped over onto his tummy, settling in the warm shelter of his duvets.
Wait, what?
Louis sat up in bed, glancing around the room. He was home. How the fuck did he get home? Shouldn't he be dead, lifeless in a casket of heavy snow? He looked out the window, to see the shy sun peeking out from behind cascading rooftops and pointed arches. The icicles that clung to the gutters and rooftop hinges were dripping water onto the ground below them. The snow had begun disparsing a little, giving pedestrians enough reason to run to the supermarket or shops before the next freeze arrived.
Louis heard a soft snore, and turned his head to the fat ginger cat curled up ontop one of his pillows. He gave a light throaty laugh, and looked onto the floor. Beside the door was a pile of his wet clothes, stained with blood and vomit. His boots were thrown not that far from the articles of clothing, soaking from the melting snow. His keys and phone had been placed on his nightstand, and there was a heavy duvet on his bed that he hadn't placed the night before.
Suddenly, last night's events slammed into Louis like a hurricane. Andy and his men, the beatings that had been inflicted on his body, and the angel. He couldn't forget the angel. How could he? It was the most beautiful and saddest sight his eyes had ever fell upon. You don't just witness you're own proximity to something that deathly beautiful and just forget about it.
Remembering the bruises and blood from the night before, Louis lifted the large thermal sweater from his torso and looked down. No bruises. No scratches. No nothing, but the heated expanse of Louis' skin. He hesitantly prodded his ribs, but no pain came. He took a deep breath, and didn't feel the compression like he had felt the night before. Louis was okay.
He slipped out of bed and looked down at the clothes he had been clad in. He wore a large thermal jumper that had been rotting in the back of his closet, gray sweatpants, and long wooly socks that reached his calves. He stretched, and concluded nothing was broken.
How could that be possible though? Louis had been beaten down and was near the brink of death when he passed out. How did he get home? Was last night nothing but a dream?
Louis looked at the thrown clothes and realized that that couldn't be possible. Last night did happen, and not only did he escape with not even a scratch, but also managed to find himself home.
His train of thought was broken when Louis heard a whine come from behind the bathroom door. Louis froze in his tracks.
ohshitohshitohshit
The door was ajar and a crack of the bathroom's light peered on the carpet. The whining had ceased, leaving nothing but a heavy silence. Louis tiptoed to the kitchen and grabbed a kitchen knife, his heart vibrating intensely in his chest and a cold sweat settling on his forehead. He controlled his breathing, forcing himself to breathe in and out, in and out.
There was a rattle at the window, and Louis looked over to it to see a white bird fluttering against the glass. Slowly, Louis walked over to the window and lifted the pane, stepping back in hope of not alarming the bird. The dove perched on the windowsill, clacking its twig-like feet against the surface as it lightly paced. Before Louis could try to comprehend just exactly what this strange bird was doing, there was a bloodcurling scream from the bathroom.
Before he could even stop and think, Louis dropped the knife and rushed to the door, throwing himself into the room.
He couldn't process the image through his head. It was so heartbreaking and frightening. He wanted to run, but he found himself glued to the spot, gaping in horror.
The angel, the angel from the night before, was crouched over the bathroom tiles. His hands were running through his dark tousled hair, and he was sobbing gently. He looked small and vulnerable, completely helpless than the figure Louis remembered from the night before. His crouched form gave Louis a full view of his crumpled wings. They were . . . bleeding.
Actually bleeding. The dark red liquid stained the feathers, drenching them in a coppery stench. The once shimmering wings now laid clumped and furled around the broken angel's body. The blood slid into the cracks of the tiles, creating a jagged pattern along the cold, white floor around the angel. It was a gruesome sight; seeing something so remarkable and great looking so broken and hopeless. It was like watching a dancer fall before the curtain call; a starving lion unable to make its kill; a bird with a crippled wing.
The angel's body racked with quiet sobs and whimpers. The cries were so excruiatingly beautiful and heartbreaking, Louis had to wil himself not to sink to his knees.
Once he was sure he wasn't going to cry or vomit, the rational part of Louis' brain sprang into action. He walked over to the tub and let the warm water run. He stuck his hand under it, and deciding he was content with the temperature, walked over to the quivering boy. Louis outstretched his shaking hand, lightly placing it on the angel's shoulder.
The angel flinched and looked up at Louis with eyes the color of moss. Trails of tears were still fresh on his cheeks and his hair was a downright mess, but still looked just as breathtaking. Louis cleared his dry throat and spoke softly, "You need to get up now. I've got the shower running so we can get you cleaned up. You can do that for me, yeah?"
The beautiful anel looked up at him and nodded weakly. Louis smiled kindly and said softly, "Ok, good. Let's get up, love."
He gingerly led the boy to his feet and helped him into the tub. Louis watched with cautious eyes as the angel settled onto the floor of the tub, fearing he might pass out and split his skull against the hard surface. When the boy leaned back against the tub, wincing when his wings came in contact with the cold surface, Louis let the warm water run over his body.
Once most of the blood was down the drain, Louis ignored his uneasiness and set to work on grabbing a washcloth. He applied a decent amount of soap and began scrubbing it over the angel's back. He tenderly grazed the washcloth over the wings, and continued to work the soap over the angel's torso, neck, and arms. He guided the shower head over the suds, watching them slide off the boy's smooth skin and down into the drain. The angel still had his jeans on, which were now soaked, but Louis didn't bother him about taking them off.
With the angel not making any sign of protest, Louis grabbed a bottle of strawberry-scented shampoo (it was the cheapest brand available and hey, it smelled good, so why the fuck not?) and massaged it into the boy's scalp. As Louis threaded his hands through the boy's boys curls, lathering gently, the angel turned to gaze at him with the tiniest of smiles. It made Louis feel a bit squirmy, but nevertheless he didn't fret. He repeated the same process with the conditioner, and gave the boy one more final rinse before shutting off the tap. He walked over to the sink's cabinets, and pulled out a large fluffy towel. He went over to the tub, helped the boy up, and wrapped the towel around his shoulders.
"You can dry yourself off and chuck your wet clothes on the floor. I'll get you some of mine you can borrow so you don't freeze your willy off," he smiled. The angel responded with a weak one of his own, and Louis walked out. He shut the door and began to dig around his closet for another pair of sweatpants and t-shirt. Cece was now awake, propped on the counter and meowing loudly. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I'll give you your breakfast in a minute you impatient dictator," Louis said to the cat, gathering the clean clothes into his arms. He went over to the bathroom door and knocked, "Um, I've got you some clothes."
The door opened and the boy stepped out, this time with no pants. Louis blushed at the boy's nudity and looked away. "Erm, y-you know you don't have to-," Louis cleared his throat once again. "I've got clothes."
The boy shrugged and mumbled out, "'s fine. I don't mind being naked." His wings had mysteriously disappeared, and along his back was some slight scarring where his wings should be. He grabbed the pair of sweatpants in Louis' arms and slid them on. They hung low on his hips, the black material making a nice backdrop for the boy's pale skin and sharp v-line and hipbones. Louis shook his head internally, telling himself this was no time to be checking somebody out. Damn him and his hormones.
As the boy took a step, he faltered and Louis was quick to catch him before he fell. "Are you okay?" Louis asked, steadying the boy.
He shook his head, "'m tired. I need- I need to lay down." Louis lead him to the bed, keeping his hands on his hips to guide him there. The boy collapsed onto the mattress and Louis threw the duvet over his body and fluffed his pillow. He sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at the stranger in his home. "I think it would feel less awkward for me if I knew your name," Louis said truthfully.
The boy's mouth twitched in a smile. "Yeah, probably," he agreed. His eyes bored into Louis', as if he were searching for something that Louis hadn't come across yet. "My name's Harry..." He paused then added, "As in Harry with hairy feet."
Louis quipped his eyebrow, wondering if this guy was going bonkers. Still, he couldn't help but smile, "Hello Harry with hairy feet. My name's Louis. As in Louis with lovely eyelashes."
Harry grinned back at him, "Hello Louis with lovely eyelashes."
"Hi."
"Hiii."
For some reason, conversing with this stranger felt practically normal for Louis. It was almost like he'd known him his whole life, to be honest.
"Harry?"
"Yes, Louis?"
"Could you tell me something?" Louis asked, eyes glancing at the muddy boots and dirty clothes on the floor.
Harry nodded, settling deeper into the duvets.
"Alright, well. You're an angel, correct?" Louis continued, turning his full attention on the green orbs staring back at him. "Like a literal person who works miracles and flys off to sit on your cloud."
Harry snickered at Louis' remark, and nodded his head.
"So, what was-," Louis had to calm himself before continuing, "What exactly was going on just a few minutes ago? The screaming and the- uh, blood on your wings." The blood and scream was still fresh on his mind, and truthfully, scared the shit out of him. It was haunting, and Louis knew he would never forget it.
"Right, that..." Harry said, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, "When we angels commit sin, erm, our wings are basically taken away. Not literally, but as in, like, they shrivel into this blackish color that could be described similiar to a, I dunno, ravens' feathers or something like that." Louis could tell Harry was a bit unsure about this topic.
"What you just saw back there was my wings being taken. I'm no longer considered 'the messenger of God', and have been kicked out of the gates of Heaven. I'm not, you know, a demon now or doing the 'Devil's bidding'. I'm not even welcomed in Hell now either. I'm just stuck between Heaven and Hell. I'm half human, half immortal. I need food, water, and sleep like you, but the difference is, I live much longer. I don't really know much about this stuff. I've only witness this happen to another angel once, and that was almost three hundred years ago."
'Three hundred years?!'' Louis thought, striken that despite Harry's age, he looked incredibly youthful and gorgeous. He wanted to ask Harry about it, but decided to save it for a later discussion.
"So basically, you're a fallen angel?" Louis frowned.
Harry thought the term over in his head and nodded, "That's one way to think of it, yeah."
"But how? What did you do wrong?"
Harry's eyes drooped and he bowed his head, twiddling his thumbs. His legs curled up to his chest and he wrapped his arms around them. He briefly looked out the window, the sun's weak rays highlighting the soft brown tinges in his hair.
"Harry?" Louis coaxed softly, trying to make eye contact with the boy.
When Harry looked back at him, his eyes were glistening and his teeth were worrying his bottom lip. "I saved you," he breathed.
~*~
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