Hello! This is a bit of angst. It's pretty dark. If you've read any of my other stories, you know that this is waaay out of my league, so be nice!
Disclaimer: I don't own MR.
The wind was howling and the rain was pouring down. Every drop felt like a shard of ice, a needle, jabbing into his skin. It was dark. The streetlights cast an orange glow over everything. A few metres away, cars sped past, their headlights reflecting on the wet pavement. In the distance, someone shouted.
All of this was going on, but he didn't appear to notice it. He just sat outside, against a building, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings.
He felt numb.
For weeks now, he had just been sitting outside, against a building, feeling numb. Occasionally, pangs in his stomach, caused by hunger, would pierce through the numbness, and he'd heave himself up, go to a dumpster outside a nearby grocery store, and search for any stray pieces of bread someone might have thrown out. When he was thirsty, and his parched throat could bear it no longer, he scrounged around on the sidewalk, found a few quarters, and bought himself some water from a drugstore.
This was his way of life, at least, it was how he lived for the past few weeks, and how he was going to live for the foreseeable future.
He knew all this, but had no emotional reaction to his impending fate. He just felt numb.
From somewhere far away, there were footsteps approaching him.
He registered this, but couldn't bring himself to turn and see who it was. Whoever it was had no meaning, no value to him. No one did.
He was alone.
The footsteps grew closer, and quicker, in their urgency, but still, he didn't move.
Finally, they stopped in front of him. From his vantage point, he saw only a pair of feet, attached to slender ankles. The person who had approached him was wearing heels. Black leather heels that were reflecting the glow from a nearby streetlamp. The ankles were covered in flesh coloured nylon tights.
He took all this in, but had no reaction to it. The facts were just proof of his hallucinating brain.
The rain continued to pound, unrelentingly on his head.
After a few beats of silence, a voice spoke.
"Fang?" It tentatively said.
The voice was quiet, but sounded foreign to his ears. It was soft and sweet, and didn't seem like it belonged here, on the rough streets.
He didn't respond.
"Fang? What are you doing here?" The voice said, again, stronger this time. "Fang, I know that I hurt you, I know that you're suffering, but you had to know that I had no choice."
Still, he was quiet. It was as if the voice had never spoken.
"Fang!" The voice said, urgently, growing in intensity, "Fang! I know what I did. I know how much pain I've put you through, but right now, you're putting the flock in pain too. They can't bear to watch you waste away like this, after-after all that…happened."
The voice was expecting the man, Fang to have some reaction to this, but there was none. He continued to stare at the ground, unemotional, unaware.
Sensing this, the voice spoke again, this time back to its original, gentle tone.
"Fang, I know you're hurting, but you've got to stop. I see Angel and Nudge cry themselves to sleep every night. Gazzy and Iggy haven't made a single bomb or even cracked a smile since…well, you know when. They need your help. Please. Please." The voice cracked and wavered, but attempted to continue. "Please, just go back to the flock. You're not doing anyone any favours by staying out here. Please." The voice was begging now, on the verge of tears. "Please, Fang."
A stray tear leaked out of her eye, but it blended in with the rain around it, so no one ever knew it existed. It didn't matter though, it wasn't real.
The voice broke down, losing control of her emotions.
It was as if a dam had broken. All of the hurt, all the anger, all the fear the voice had felt in the last few months all came crashing down on her at once. Unable to bear the weight, she collapsed on the hard cement.
She lay there for quite some time, crying, her tiny shoulders shaking with sadness.
Through all of this, he just sat. His eyes showed no flicker of interest and betrayed no emotion. It wasn't real.
After the voice was done crying, she looked through her bloodshot eyes at the boy. She thought that she'd see Fang, the same one who had held her hand after experiments at the School, who had taught Angel how to fly, who had kissed her, loved her.
She didn't see that. All she saw was a shadow of the man she once knew.
Of course, that was to be expected. When two people are in love, and one of those people leaves you, how can you be expected to continue, when half of your whole is missing?
Seeing this, her heart felt heavy. She'd tried, she'd tried so hard, but it was never going to be enough.
She could never repair the damage that had been done.
She felt as if her heart were breaking when she thought this. She would have cried, but she was so tired, drained of all emotions.
Once she realized this fact, she picked herself off the ground slowly, brushing drops of water off of her coat. She went over to the man, kissed him on the head and whispered,
"I love you Fang."
She turned around, and walked slowly away.
Fang heard the footsteps receding into the distance, the opposite way they had come.
It didn't matter though, that Max loved him. Max was dead, she had been dead for two months now, and even if she did love him, it didn't matter.
He felt numb.
-Tears-
Poor Fang! If you liked it, review! If you didn't like it, review so I can be better! If you read it and thought, "meh, it was okay", review and tell me that!
Review people! They make my day!
~Cherryblaster
