A/N: This is just a quick idea I had when I was contemplating the idea of
Valentine's Day. The poem "Fallen Angel" is one that I wrote for my Harry
Potter fic, "Fear of an Angel." It was not originally written for this
fic, but I thought it fit~ Enjoy!
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A flame of red hair trailed after its owner as she jostled her way through the crowded hallway. Everywhere she turned, a trace of romance danced before her; the seniors' lockers were decorated with smirking cupids and pink hearts, and the students leaning against them were gaily exchanging valentines. Shaking her shimmering veil of fiery hair, Jean suppressed a gag as the forceful impact of newly sprayed perfume washed over the hallways, followed by a fit of flirtatious giggles.
Though she was a romantic at heart, Jean had never thoroughly enjoyed the overrated holiday. "Why should we celebrate and exchange our love for one another on a holiday dedicated to a deceased martyr?" She'd silenced a gushing Kitty only hours before. "Haven't you ever heard of the Valentine's Day Massacre? What was so romantic about that?" In her opinion, Valentine's Day was just a waste of valuable time, an excuse to splurge hard-earned money on flowers, cards, and candy, only when the gesture will be forgotten three days later. Jean had never had a memorable Valentine's day, her past ones having been spent being teased by the popular girls and they're buff boyfriends at her old middle school, and neither was she expecting one, even if she did have a boyfriend of her own this year.
'Duncan will probably just use this as a publicity stunt. Piling gifts over his blushing girlfriend to make him even more desirable.' She thought cynically, stepping around some serious public display of affection occurring against the lockers. She knew she shouldn't be thinking so malevolently about her boyfriend, but she Duncan just didn't strike her as the hopeless romantic type of guy, and she couldn't seem to get caught up in the Valentine spirit. "ValANTIne spirit is more like it." She muttered under her breath.
Approaching her locker, Jean's breath caught in her throat as she gazed upon the single red rose fastened to the front. 'I guess Duncan is more romantic than I thought.' She stepped forward, unlacing an intricately tied bow and removing a single scroll of crimson paper.
You are like a fallen angel,
Innocent and pure,
The queen of all the heavens,
Of this I am so sure.
Just like a fallen angel,
You fell into my life,
You help me through my problems,
My joy, tears, and strife.
Just like a fallen angel,
You are so high above,
It's insane for me to wish,
That you would be my love.
Jean's eyes filled with tears as her mind wandered in curiosity. The rose was most certainly not from Duncan – he could hardly string two words together (unless boasting about his latest football game) let alone write such a poem! But who could it be? Jean turned over the possibilities in her mind, dismissing each as it arrived. She was almost afraid the gift had been placed on the wrong locker when a sliver of crimson flashed in the corner of her eye. Crimson, red, pink, Valentine's Day . . . a slow smile crept across her ruby painted lips as she played with the idea. 'Maybe Valentine's Day isn't so bad after all.'
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A flame of red hair trailed after its owner as she jostled her way through the crowded hallway. Everywhere she turned, a trace of romance danced before her; the seniors' lockers were decorated with smirking cupids and pink hearts, and the students leaning against them were gaily exchanging valentines. Shaking her shimmering veil of fiery hair, Jean suppressed a gag as the forceful impact of newly sprayed perfume washed over the hallways, followed by a fit of flirtatious giggles.
Though she was a romantic at heart, Jean had never thoroughly enjoyed the overrated holiday. "Why should we celebrate and exchange our love for one another on a holiday dedicated to a deceased martyr?" She'd silenced a gushing Kitty only hours before. "Haven't you ever heard of the Valentine's Day Massacre? What was so romantic about that?" In her opinion, Valentine's Day was just a waste of valuable time, an excuse to splurge hard-earned money on flowers, cards, and candy, only when the gesture will be forgotten three days later. Jean had never had a memorable Valentine's day, her past ones having been spent being teased by the popular girls and they're buff boyfriends at her old middle school, and neither was she expecting one, even if she did have a boyfriend of her own this year.
'Duncan will probably just use this as a publicity stunt. Piling gifts over his blushing girlfriend to make him even more desirable.' She thought cynically, stepping around some serious public display of affection occurring against the lockers. She knew she shouldn't be thinking so malevolently about her boyfriend, but she Duncan just didn't strike her as the hopeless romantic type of guy, and she couldn't seem to get caught up in the Valentine spirit. "ValANTIne spirit is more like it." She muttered under her breath.
Approaching her locker, Jean's breath caught in her throat as she gazed upon the single red rose fastened to the front. 'I guess Duncan is more romantic than I thought.' She stepped forward, unlacing an intricately tied bow and removing a single scroll of crimson paper.
You are like a fallen angel,
Innocent and pure,
The queen of all the heavens,
Of this I am so sure.
Just like a fallen angel,
You fell into my life,
You help me through my problems,
My joy, tears, and strife.
Just like a fallen angel,
You are so high above,
It's insane for me to wish,
That you would be my love.
Jean's eyes filled with tears as her mind wandered in curiosity. The rose was most certainly not from Duncan – he could hardly string two words together (unless boasting about his latest football game) let alone write such a poem! But who could it be? Jean turned over the possibilities in her mind, dismissing each as it arrived. She was almost afraid the gift had been placed on the wrong locker when a sliver of crimson flashed in the corner of her eye. Crimson, red, pink, Valentine's Day . . . a slow smile crept across her ruby painted lips as she played with the idea. 'Maybe Valentine's Day isn't so bad after all.'
