literature

When the Angels Fall

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     Overtime. Great. The blonde male grumbled bitterly as he fingered the pages of his slightly disorganized work. It was all that little pipsqueak's fault he even had overtime. He just had to make a fuss the minute the word was even thrown at him, so of course the 'more mature' Reaper got the heavier load.
      "Alright," Eric Slingby sighed as he checked his ledger for the next name on his list. A Jaime Thatcher was scheduled to die at 2:30am from a severe case of TB. The well built male tipped his head up to look at the colossal clock tower. It was 2:25 now. He had about five minutes to slither soundlessly through the vacant streets and take the twenty-three year old's life.

~

      Slingby approached his destination, and with about two minutes to spare. Quick to choose a place to spectate, Eric chose to take an orchestral seat of sorts. He was right up close to the action, yet undetectable to the common people. Taking out his navy blue ledger and writing utensil he began to write the basics of the young woman's records. He had to admit, her and that once pretty face of hers would probably be a loss to the husband that was currently pouring attention and love over her sickly frame. Oh well, emotions didn't matter when it came down to being a Shinigami.
      However, when the wilting woman began to hack, Eric paused. That awful sound of lungs trembling and shrieking in a weak attempt to expand and obtain enough breath. The eerie rasps that escaped her lips as she said words that were all too familiar to Eric. The reassurance she was fine, when it was clearly a lie. Then the painful, hurt and worried look on her husband's face as he watched, helpless. It was all a fight against a strong current...It was all too reminiscent of Alan--
Eric shook his head with an aggravated groan, pressing himself to continue his writing. Hurriedly scribbling down the required information he rose to his full, towering height. Almost reluctantly he pulled his bone saw of a deathscythe out, soundlessly encroaching upon the woman's deathbed. Trying not to look at either of the humble beings Eric brought his scythe down and slid it forward, making a precise and clean cut into the woman's pale, bony chest.
      The unnerved Reaper found comfort in her face. At first a certain fright and malice filled her dull, blue eyes, but soon shifted into an accepting serenity. The young lady closed her eyes, what little muscle she had left losing their tenseness. Jaime found relief as Eric collected her records and took away her last breath, leaving her delicate frame still forever.
Forbidding the chance of seeing the husband's reaction, Eric bolted out the house. Done, he was done. No more work for today. This was exactly why he hated overtime. It wasn't worth the pay, and only struck up more chords of anxiety and aches in his neck. Screw overtime, if anything Eric Slingby needed a damn vacation. Somewhere nice and relaxing,warm and--
      "Hn?" He blinked as something chilly graced the tip of his nose, followed by similar sensation on the back of his neck, and in abundance. Disgruntled and in disbelief, Eric tipped his head up to the sky, mouth agape. "You're kidding me." Small,chilly angels were descending from the sky, each dancing in the air until they kissed the town of London. "It's snowing," he scoffed, shaking his head free of the icy flakes. Typical, just the opposite of what he wanted. "Agh, whatever," he grumbled, carelessly slinging his scythe over his shoulder with a huff. With miniature,frosty angels twirling about him, Eric Slingby walked off. It was time to go home. After he checked up on Alan that is.

~

      Without so much as a knock Eric pushed through the door, wincing as it squeaked in protest. Making a mental note to fix the door himself, he practically bee-lined for the master bedroom. He knew Alan wouldn't be happy with him. He always hated when Eric forced him to stay home, but it was with all good intentions of course. Bed rest would never heal him, but it was better than nothing. Anything was better than nothing...even his own damnation.
      Eric popped his head into the bedroom, careful not to make a peep. As expected he saw a petite lump curled up and cocooned in the feather down blankets, rising and falling gently. Hearing the even breaths Eric sighed, the tautness in his chest easing.
"I'm still awake, you know." said the small lump as it sat up. An Alan Humphries crawled out from behind the covers, restless as always. Much to Eric's distaste there was no sign of sleep upon Alan's face. No tussled hair, barely disturbed covers, and not a cloud of sleep shaded his brightly hued eyes.
      "Oh." the tall blonde said blankly, stepping into the room and coming up along his friend's bed side. "You know you probably should have slept. It might've helped since you--"
"I feel fine!" he snapped bitterly, shooting the taller male a warning glance. "In fact, I'm going to work tomorrow."
Typical Alan. That was one thing that was one of the few troubling things about the small brunette. Sure, he graduated from the academy as an Honors student, but that didn't give him lean way to be so stubborn. All he wanted to do was work, to prove himself, when in Eric's eyes he was already proven.
      Alan was a sickly Shinigami, and had been for as long as Eric could remember. Known as the Thorns of Death, the sickness was the only thing capable of killing a Reaper other than to bring them down with their own scythe. The ailment was almost like an immortal combination of tuberculosis and a cardiac arrest, but it was stronger, more aggressive, and slow to kill. This gruesome disease weakened Humphries, leaving his delicate frame vulnerable to attacks at any given moment.
      It was this reason that Eric never strayed too far away. The thought of leaving his partner alone made him antsy, and he only did so when there was no other choice, such as his previous shift. He left Alan alone simply because there were many souls to reap, and the manager William had him cornered. Given the choice, Eric would never leave Alan's side, never.
"Gah, Alan," Eric tried to speak carefully. Sure, his partner was small, but he was a firecracker when he didn't get his way. "Maybe you should take the day of again. I mean--"
      The smaller Reaper pushed his heavy covers away in a huff, practically jumping onto Eric's back like a mad ape. "I said I'm fine!" Of course this made the slight male angry, feeling both annoyed and ashamed that his friend found him so helpless and in need. He was perfectly capable of doing his job! He wasn't that sick! It was nothing, really, he felt just fine. "I can handle it perfectly fine, and on my own." he stressed the last word with a hiss, hurriedly hopping out of bed. Eric was his best friend, closer than his family ever was, but he could be a hindrance more often than not. Alan understood that the tall blonde meant well, but he himself was set on doing tasks on his own. He wasn't a child. He was fine finishing a common task such as reaping souls.
      "Okay, okay!" Eric tried to sooth his nettled companion, lest he work himself up into a fit. "Relax, alright? Do whatever." He really rather have his way, but trying to keep Alan down was like trying to make a canary not sing. "But, you still have today off. Enjoy it, alright?"
"Fine," the smaller male grumped, his little muscles loosing their defensive tightness. He didn't mean to be so aggressive, but he hated when Eric tried to oppress him. "Pull up a chair." he motioned to the mahogany chair in the corner, the one Eric always sat in when he came to Alan's bedside.
      "So," he tried to start a new, lighter conversation. "How was your day?"
"Pointless." the brunette said, blunt as he always was when upset.
Well, then forget idle conversation. "Anyways," he shrugged it off casually, reaching into the pocket of his slacks to pull out a small packet. Maybe this would atone for his overbearing attentiveness. "I grabbed you some tea. It's mint." Eric smiled slightly. Mint flavored tea was Alan's favorite.
      Alan nodded. It was a small gesture, but kind nonetheless. The simple sight of the package seemed to lull the angry bee in his head to sleep. "Th-thank you. I'll go put some on the kettle for us."
Eric opened his mouth to insist that he do it, but closed his mouth just as quick. Sick as he was Alan wasn't entirely helpless. He deserved some independence, and if he didn't get any he was sure to make a fuss about it.

~

     After having tea and a pleasant conversation, sleep seemed to assuage Mr.Humphries. In mid conversation he fell asleep, leaving Eric slightly flabbergasted, but pleased all the same. The little guy needed rest anyways. Refusing to leave his slumbering companion alone, Eric grabbed a book and began to read idly. He'd just keep reading until Alan woke a few hours later. However, it wasn't long until sleep draped herself over the tall man, bringing him into her soft bosom.
     Eric looked around himself, confused. He was alone in a field littered by stones, the sun just peeking over the thin clouds in the distance. There was no sound but a far off bell. "Hello?" he called out, his voice greeted by nothing. Something wasn't right about this place. The sun seemed furious, yet the air was unforgivably icy. It was all so...unsettling.
     Confused and in a panic, Eric ran. Where he was running, he hadn't a clue, but something in him was dying to escape this field. Yet no matter where he ran and how fast he went, the field seemed to stretch on! It was then in his haste Eric tripped over one of the corpulent stones. He looked back at the small boulder to glare at it, but was stopped by a shock that racked his nerves.
     In front of the stone lay a small bouquet of flowers, and not just any simple flower, but Ericas. Didn't he promise Alan that those would be the flowers on his grav--"No..." he said to himself, cautiously leaning forward to take a better look at the stone. He then realized this wasn't a plain old stone, but a crudely made headstone. Taking in a deeper perspective of is surrounding the blonde then noticed that the ground seemed fresher, as if it was recently dug up then shoveled back in place. "No, no!" he stammered like a mad mad, his breath falling short. It was then he read the carelessly scribbled inscription on the stone. "Here lies Alan Humph--"
     "Eric, Eric!"
     "No!" the Reaper jumped back to life in dismay, looking this way and that. He was back in Alan's comfy little abode, but how? "Damn dream!" he pushed himself  upright again and groaned as his aged bones cracked.
     "Eric?" the smaller Reaper watched his partner with a furrowed brow, worried. He had been woken by Eric's grunts and groans of objection, followed by shouts of agony. What could be wrong? "Is everything alright?"
     The tall blonde slumped in his chair, rubbing his now strained neck. "Yeah, yeah. I''m fine." He hated having dreams like that. They were awful premonitions, ones that Eric tried to assure himself would never come to pass. Alan was fine! He would get out of this! All he had to do was the impossible.
     The Thorns of Death had but one cure, and a very illegal one at that. In order to relieve one from such a curse, one thousand innocent souls had to reaped, but not documented. It was everything a Reaper was supposed to be against! Stealing souls for their own advantage was a demon's duty, but Eric didn't care. In fact he had already begun to harvest the innocent. Another four hundred and thirty-two souls, and Alan would be alright!
     "If you say so," the brunette mumbled, shifting in his bed. Alan sighed, grimacing slightly as he felt a tickle in his throat. He began to clear it, but it seemed the more he tried, the worse it got. The agitating sensation then began to breed, crawling down his esophagus and into his chest. It was then the vexation turned into a boa, coiling itself around his lungs and squeezing all the air out. He let out a yip of pain, slouching over clutching his chest tightly.
     "Alan!" Eric shot up from his seat, placing his hand on his friend's shoulder worriedly. He knew all too well what was uprising. He prayed to God that maybe this attack was minor, and would ebb away as quickly as it came. "Alan, buddy, talk to me." he tried to comfort his partner, though he himself was beginning to work up a panic. Oh God, please let it calm down!
     However, the curse did not stop, but worsened. Alan began to wheeze, his complexion becoming pale and dull as the pain increased.
     "F-fine, fine!" he gasped like a fish out of water. "I'm fi--" his clearly lied about objection was interrupted by yet another cry of pain.Speech began to fail him, but only grunts and yelps would come out. He fell back helplessly onto the bed, clutching his chest in vain as the serpent of his nightmares ghastly hold tightened. It was then the vile reptilian opened its jaws and snapped  shut around Alan's heart, causing the fragile man to scream in agony. Every muscle tensing and refusing to move, the poor man was at his ailment's mercy.
     "Alan, Alan! Look at me!" the tall Reaper clasped his strong hands around his poor companion's shoulders, trying to keep him alert. If he could just stay distracted long enough, maybe the pain would subside. Please don't take him, please! Eric begged silently in his head, his brightly shaded and fretting eyes locked onto his friend's. Trying not to flinch as the one he held dear to him wailed and screamed, Eric grit his teeth. Four hundred and thirty two souls, and Alan would be free of this heart wrenching burden. What if Alan couldn't wait that long?

~

     Eric sat on the floor against the wall in the dimly light room, lost in deep thought. It wasn't too long ago that Alan's attack had finally settled, pushing his poor partner into exhaustion. What would have happened if that never stopped? he thought to himself with a horrified shudder. What would happen if Alan was to never breathe again? He didn't even want to think about it.
     Tipping his head up Alan looked out the window and into the night. Yet again he was greeted by the sight of the dainty and pure angels in the sky, quickly telling their story before falling to the ground. In a way, the frosty angels were like Alan; clean, pure, simple, graceful and splendid.For once the forsty weather made Eric smile. The snow flakes had to be some kind of sign or hope. Everything would be okay...somehow.
I haven't submitted anything in some time, so here it is! When Angels Fall! This was just a piece creative writing I did for English 10 H, but since it was Kuroshitsuji and had some of my favorite characters in it, I had to show it off!

I would've put more yaoi in it other than hinted, but I don't think my teacher would have been delighted. I suppose you could call it very soft shounen-ai?

Alan Humphries and Eric Slingby from Kuroshitsuji. Owned by Yana Toboso (c)
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JakkyLovesScreamer's avatar
Oh god. Worst dream ever.