Chapter Five – Raven's POV
That bloody idiot.
I ram my shoulder into the front door again, and again, but it's no use. I mean, it's not like I can't get into my own house because I'm weak or anything – I almost laugh out loud at the thought – I can't get in because of two reasons.
One; after several break-ins in the duration of one month, I decided to reinforce our door with double the thickness, therefore insuring our very drunk neighbours couldn't throw a party at 3 in the morning when we're out.
And two; Flynn Avery.
Ugh, that bloody idiot said he was gonna be home, that's why I didn't bother with bringing a key!
I groan and rest my head on the door, a curtain of unruly hair falling around my face. I grudgingly take my old, battered flip-phone out of my jacket pocket and call the only number in my speed-dial, putting it to my ear.
He picks up after 2 rings.
"RAVEN! My favourite girl!" a loud voice says from over the line. I can hear loud club music in the background and not to mention, he sound wasted. Completely and utterly wasted.
"Avery you bellend, where the fuck are you?" I growl at him. Trust him to get hammered on the one night I really need him. "You said you'd be at home when I got back from work,"
He scoffs. "I'd hardly call it work,"
"Flynn..." I say warningly.
"Okay, okay, I just- I-" he whimpers. "I just really needed to get out of town for the night, Rave. I'm sorry," he sounds genuine for a moment, which is rare when he's drunk because the only serious things he does when wasted is calling up our boss and threatening to cut off his penis and mail it back to him. Without a stamp on it.
I sigh and sit down on the front steps of the apartment dejectedly. "Did she call again?"
I hear him groan over the line in response to my question. He always gets like this when his mother calls. "I'm getting wasted, little peach. I'd rather not talk about her right now,"
I chuckle to myself. "Okay, Flynn," I suddenly remember why I was calling him in the first place.
"Anyway, I'm locked out of the house, dick! How the fuck am I gonna get in now?" I say in exasperation.
He laughs whole-heartedly over the phone. "Are you seriously asking me that?" He says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "Raven Montenegro, alleged child-tormentor, Miss Never-Lost-A-Fight, can't even break into her own house?"
I roll my eyes. "You know that kid was exaggerating. I wasn't even trying! Besides, it was an accident!"
Flynn snorts. "Tell me, Rave. How exactly do you punch a 15 year old boy in the nose by accident?"
I gulp, remembering why I had punched him in the first place. It was around a year ago, and he made me so mad...
My fists were clenching and unclenching, a 'tell' that I was angry. Like, in this case, furious.
Sighing, I run a hand through my hair and stand up from the dirty steps.
"Look, don't worry about me, Flynn," I smile a little. "Just get home before dawn, okay? I need to clean up before school at eight-thirty,"
I hear him groan. "Don't tell me you're actually going to school in the morning. You'll have next to no sleep!" His voice raises, panicked. "Was it bad today? Did they get any hits in? Oh god, I should have been there for you. Are you-?"
"Avery!" I cut him off. "I'm fine, stop worrying, okay? Get home safe, and don't talk to any strange boys, alright?"
"Okay, fine," he grumbles. "I'm just worried about you, that's all. We're in this together. I should have been there, and here I am getting pissed out of my mind whilst you're-" he cuts himself off.
"Flynn?" I say, confused.
"You're right, you're gonna be fine. I'm just being stupid, aren't I?" he says after a pause.
"No, Avery. You aren't stupid. We're in this together. Until death do us part, right?" I say, laughing at the ridiculous line.
He chuckles. "Of course. 'Till death do us part."
I hang up, smiling. If anything in this world is worth living for, it's Flynn Avery.
Even though he is a bloody idiot.
I check the time on the dimly lit screen on my phone. 2:27am.
Shoving my phone into the front pocket of my severely frayed jeans, I jump down the steps and bring my jacket closer around my shoulders as the wind hits me. If I was religious, I would definitely thank God for leather jackets.
I walk down the road towards our town's cemetery. The middle of the night is the best time to visit the graveyard for me. No one to recognise me, and no one to bother me.
I kick open the gate with my boot, and make my way to the corner of the graveyard.
Five steps away. Four steps. Three. Two. On-
No.
I stop in my tracks, and spin around, my feet poised and fists ready.
But there's nothing there.
I swear I heard something-
There it is again.
I don't know exactly what I heard before, but right now, I hear a boy.
I hear a boy crying.
I tread cautiously through the darkness, my eyes and ears alert. But all I hear is crying. Someone sobbing.
And suddenly, I can't only hear them. I can see them.
I can see him, sat in front of a pale grey gravestone, looking down into his lap, his midnight black hair framing his face. My heart jumps in my chest. It's him.
What in hell's name is Angelo Greene doing in a graveyard at two-thirty in the morning?
I watch him, as tiny chokes of tears bubble out of his chest. His demeanour is sad and depressing for me to even look at, his fingers dig into the grass beside him and he's shivering like he's never felt warmth before. He still doesn't know I'm here, standing just meters from where he sits.
Why can't I speak? Say something, Raven! Say something now!
My fists clench by my sides and I step forward, "Angel?" I try to say, but it comes out as a whisper.
He jumps, but doesn't turn around. His hands go to his hair, tangling in the blackness. He whimpers, looking up at the gravestone. "M- Mum? Is that you?"
I look over to the inscription on the stone.
Mary Ingrid Greene
June 21st 1972 – November 4th 2003
Beloved Mother and Wife
The oxygen is sucked out of my lungs and I look back to Angelo on the floor.
Him too?
I notice he's stopped crying and now looks like he's suffocating, struggling to breathe. I still can't see his face.
And he still thinks it was his mother who said his name.
I take a deep breath and kneel down on the ground next to him, and cautiously lift a hand and place it on his shoulder.
He jumps again, but this time he turns around to look at me, and his eyes widen.
Mine do too.
His eyes are red and there are tears streaming down his face, his lip is quivering and not to mention his hair, pulled over half his face as if to hide it. Maybe he was.
I gulp nervously but keep my hand firm on his shoulder. "Angel, it's me. It's Ra- Blaze. It's me, Blaze."
God, I nearly sold myself out there.
His body is warm to the touch despite the coldness of the night and I find myself shivering at his hotness. I would say I'm just referring to his temperature when I say his hotness, but that would be lying.
His facial features are so defined, I swear he could cut a bitch with that jawline.
In all seriousness though.
His eyes are pools of dark, ocean blue, and it almost scares me to see the deterring waves of self-hatred lapping around in the depths. His nose is slightly crooked at the bridge, it looks like it's been broken in the past. His lips are pressed into a thin line and oh god, his hair hangs loosely around his face, and for unknown reasons I itch to run my hand through it, to feel the silkiness of his midnight hair, to hold him and never let go.
In that moment, I yearn to tell him my real name. To hear him say it.
Our faces are so close now, I can feel our breaths interchanging between each other in the little space there is between us.
I can hear his heart-beat.
The silence lingers in the air whilst I just stare at Angelo Greene, a boy I only met this morning, and he stares back at me, a girl who he shouldn't have met this morning.
Because whatever terrors this boy was crying about just now, I know he won't want to add another to the pile.
Another meaning me.
"Blaze?" He whispers, his eyes flickering down to my hand on his shoulder, and back up to my eyes. His hand sub-consciously creeps up to grab mine and brings it off his shoulder, and into his lap.
Don't be selfish, Raven.
"What are you doing here?" he whispers, so quietly I wouldn't know what he was saying if I wasn't looking at his mouth.
Fuck being selfless.
I look back up to his eyes, and squeeze his hand, tight.
"Saving an Angel," I whisper back.
© 2015 Saving Angelo. All rights reserved.
[oreos for shannon]