It was a dreary morning, rain drizzling down from the sky like the clouds left their shower on. Gabriel was walking to his bus stop, in as dreary of a mood as he ever was. And it was totally normal. In Diagolan, Wales, it rained nearly every day. And nearly every day, Gabriel faced his lonliness with a blank expression.
Standing at the bus stop was a terrible experience. He was surrounded by people who stared at him, and whispered as though he couldn't hear them. They criticized him because he wore no raincoat, only a leather trenchcoat, and he never carried an umbrella. They called him names because he never spoke to anyone, and never smiled. They spread wild rumors because he got near perfect grades, and was always alone. He never got in trouble, no matter what he did. The teachers just didn't see what such a wonderful student could ever be doing wrong. And that pissed off the other kids to no end.
Today, though, was so much worse than usual. Through the rain, suddenly, there were beams of light, and Gabriel flinched in surprise. Looking up, he saw the clouds parting, revealing a brightly colored rainbow. The rain lightened up, and the birds began chirping happily. The faces around him turned up just as his turned down. The last thing he wanted was sunshine. He rather enjoyed how the weather always reflected his hate.
"I wonder if this is what angels wake up to." A boy said reverently, and a few others murmured approvals in response. He couldn't help it. It was just so ridiculous.
He laughed. He laughed, a deep, dark sound, that resonated through his chest and out across the air. Eyes were drawn away from the sight of supposed glory and to him, widening in surprise and confusion. He raised a hand to cover his face, trying to stifle the noise.
"No, idiot. Angels wake up in beds, in houses just like you and me. They have their own cities, towns, prisons, armies. They are warriors before anything else. Not saviors, like you all want to believe. They're bloodthirsty, brutal, and violent. They kill, maim, torture and suck the life out of everything they touch! They have nothing to do with the beauty of nature, because they themselves are objects of horror!"
He sighed, and shook his head. He only wished he could react that way. When the boy remarked on the sight, he simply turned away, and walked to the curb to wait for the bus. It was late this morning. Not that it specifically mattered, it was just irritating. When he did finally catch a glimpse of that obnoxious yellow, he shifted his messenger bag full of his schoolwork, and his duffel bag full of his training equipment higher onto his shoulder. It was Wednesday, and he was set to train after school. He studied fighting styles at the battle school downtown, and was their top student.
Because he didn't have anything better to do.
Gabriel was sibling to two brothers. They were triplets, actually. Not that it was anything special; everyone in their family was born in threes. The family curse was in threes. Every generation had two identical twins and a third that was totally different. It made them the talk of the town, which is why they had always lived on the outskirts of whatever city they came to.
His twin was Xigbar, their brother, Braig. They were the newest children of the Rayne family. But Gabriel lived alone with his mother. His father rarely showed his face and his brothers were always gone at some secret place nobody felt obligated to tell him about. No matter how much he'd begged.
Yes. He'd begged them all at one point to tell him, and they all had the same answer. "Don't worry about it Gabe. It's not a big deal." But it was a big deal. His twin, the other half of his soul for fucks sake, only came home on weekends. Sometimes not even that. And whenever he came home, he was stronger. Which is why he himself trained so hard. He wanted to keep up with Xigbar. He could care less about Braig. In all honesty, he hated the boy. When worst came to worst he had his back, but only because he knew nobody else would. Him and his weakness for blood ties.
On his ride to school, he was, as usual, thinking of his twin. Wondering where he was, how he was, and what the hell was going on. He sat in a bus seat alone, pouring over little drawn maps of the surrounding cities. He had been systematically searching for any evidence, and he kept many-a plan handy for use.
Of course, though, his peace (if you could call it that) was over too soon. He folded the papers calmly, placing them into his schoolbag. As usual, he was the last one off the bus, nodding a goodbye to the elderly woman that drove his bus. He walked to his class, mentally preparing himself for the mundane torture. Here, he was nobody. He was just a shadow, a lost boy with long black hair and piercing emerald eyes. His muscle and lithe body that was revealed during gym and training was just the chiseled form of some kid. He was just a dark spot on the wall...
Don't ask me why I'm writing this, because I'll never be able to put it into words you'll understand. Not that you're stupid, just that, if I don't understand it, how do you expect me to explain it to you?
I seem to be losing my mind. I talk to you when you aren't here, and try to imagine you next to me in bed each night. It rarely works, and I'm usually left in tears. I just don't understand. You're my twin, why are you hiding things from me? I know you still love me, Xigbar. Then again, I still love you, and look at how much I'm hiding.
But I don't really want to argue with myself. Yes, that's right I said myself, because you'll never read this journal. I'm sure of it.
Anyways, I'm going out with the gang tonight. We have a new hit list. Reno is really pissed at these guys, not that many of our crew can tell. The guy is just as emotionless as me. I think that's why he just kinda lets me do my own thing. I've got to go finish getting ready, so watch the news from wherever you are, Xiggy. The next report of a brutal murder will have my signature on it. And no one but you knows what it is...
Gabriel put down the pen and closed his black covered journal. Xigbar had been gone this morning when he woke as usual, and this had caused the decision to write down something every day after he was done training. No one had wanted to verse him today, so while he was doing his katas he was in deep thought. But now, he had a job to do. The plate of food his mother had brought up earlier that evening was sitting there on the edge of his desk, cold. He really wasn't hungry, but he also didn't want to hurt his mother's feelings. So, as was his routine, he took the plate to the window and dumped the food straight down into the bushes. The stray dogs that roamed the area would make short work of it.
The plate was left on the desk while he strapped two swords, a large handgun, multiple daggers and a few clips of ammo tight against his body. He was wearing black cargo pants, but no shirt. He would wear his trench coat, like usual. But not until they actually embarked on the mission. His fellow gang members knew about his crisscrossing scars, and the hard formed muscle of his body. They also knew about the spanning tattoo across his back.
It was of a cross, flipped upside down. There were tribal symbols laced around it and through it, and a banner at his lower back with the words "The False Archangel" inscribed. Had he designed it? No. It had marked him since birth. Every male in his family had one from birth. Because they all held a deeper secret.
They were immortals. Though what kind, Gabriel didn't exactly know. He knew their spirit animals were wolves. He knew they had the elements of time and space, as well as one unique to each person. And he also knew they weren't demons. But other than that, it was another thing he was rather unsure of.
He grabbed up a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and the plate, then made a beeline for downstairs. He made sure to close and lock his bedroom door behind himself. Once down in the kitchen, he rinsed the plate and put it in the dishwasher. There were a lot of dishes in the house, but since it was usually only him and his mother, they only ran the dishwasher once a week. They had once guessed they could go for three weeks without having to, though they would run out of spoons before anything. Their spoons had a habit of disappearing, for whatever reason.
He was getting sidetracked. And he knew it. He just didn't want to go tonight. It was a stay at home kind of night. One where he needed rest, and he knew it, and as much as he hated it he wanted to give in to it. And right as he considered it, actually, wholeheartedly, considered it, he felt a presence. It stood behind him, and it was silent. He knew that it was also invisible.
'Don't go, Gabe. It's not safe. You'll be hurt so badly.'
He scoffed at his twin's imaginary voice. He had long ago stopped listening to his conscious that had manifested itself as Xigbar. It only made him angry when it showed up and played with his mind, trying to make him think the other was somehow there with him, telling him the right path to take.
"Fuck off. I hope I get hurt, just so I can shove the scars into your face when you decide you fucking care again. And laugh. Laugh so hard you'll swear I've snapped. Because the day you care about me is the day I die. So that you know what it feels like to be without half of your soul."
Did he mean it? Absolutely not. But as he stormed out of the kitchen, he felt the presence fade. He just wanted to be left alone in his self destructive lifestyle. He didn't want anyone to care about him, because it was too dangerous. One day, he would succeed in killing himself, one way or another, and he didn't want a single tear to be shed over it.