"Don't put wings on me; I am no angel." -Diego Costa
Covers pulled way over his head, golden curls disappeared under the heavy weight of the comforter as Jericho slowly sank beneath it, enveloping himself in complete darkness. And consumed by the blackness of his bed the boy let out a pitiful sigh as he closed glowing eyes in discontent, brows furrowed so intently wrinkles rose to his crown. It had been almost two weeks as a member of the newest formed team, and here he was already feeling the immense pressure suffocating around him; like a walnut crushed between a wooden soldier's teeth, he felt his resolve crumbling. The tower, the city, the reporters, it was too much to handle. It was just so overwhelming.
Jericho clenched the rustled fabric bundled in his pale fists as he curled up tighter, his knees pressed firmly against his pounding chest; today was humiliating, absolutely embarrassing. He bit down onto his dampened lips, hoping the fleeting pain would help to erase the midday's prior memories. Desperately trying to forget the boy left reality as his troubled mind wandered back up the mountains he once called home.
The crisp air swirling around in tango with the fluttering petals of the oxeye daisies, and unfiltered sunlight radiating down upon his dusted cheeks; it was a sanctuary or peacefulness and a far cry from his current housing. He missed the critters and stray goats terribly, his only companions among the endless valleys and hills he resided on.
A tear escaped falling with unceremonious splat staining the linens Jericho rested on, and despite continuously wiping his eyes his sleeves only became more moistened with every passing second. Frustrated, he flung off the sheets that entangled his body and sat up, his wild hair messier than ever with dangling locks of flaxen hues splayed all over his face and ears.
He was so confused, not only with his place in this city, but also lost on his team. All the other heroes he knew were so comfortable, integrating flawlessly, so why couldn't he fit in?
Clumsily grabbing for his bedside tissues, a knock on the door startled Jericho causing the short teen to ungracefully slam his gangly knees into the side of the metal frame.
"Woah, is everything alright in there? I'm coming in." A smooth voice echoed from the hall.
With the brilliance of the sterile lights from behind, the silhouette of the Herald appeared; a gentle concerned look embellished on his caramel colored features as he made his way inside.
"Jericho?"
A shudder traveled down the petite boy's spine as he gazed at the older titan's commanding physique, noting how frail he was in comparison. Jericho promptly looked down, his skin burning red as blood rushed across his whole being, flustering him- teasing. It was mortifying to be seen by him with his face all wet and streaked.
"Are you okay?"
Malcolm Duncan, the Herald, his leader was standing in front of him keeling like a true respectable man, his hand practically caressing Jericho's thigh as if to engage in some sense of sincerity. The touch breaking down all of Jericho's walls, his heart palpitating to the point of cardiac arrest.
Those tantalizing fingers dragged upwards towards his tinted chin delicately lifting his gaze to meet the masked eyes before him. Mal's expression was full of worry, and his palms cupped the soft outer flesh of Jericho's head.
"Hey you with me?" The Herald spoke, his words carrying more nerves as the creases around his lips deepened.
Breaking from the trance of the other's pulchritudinous attraction Jericho nodded slightly, reaching forwards into Mal's chest with a noiseless grunt. Those gloved hands shifted to his back, rubbing elongated circles between the boy's shoulder blades.
"I know today was rough. But guess what?"
Jericho once again let his emerald jewels become captured by Herald's masked slits.
"We saved the day, and everyone was unharmed. So what if some lousy reporter made a couple comments? In the end the bad guy was caught, and no one got hurt."
Pushing himself from the teen's lap Jericho shrunk back further onto the bed, his fingers signing furiously.
'He called me a cripple, said people like me are handicaps.'
Mal slumped next to his legs, letting his hood slip off as he positioned himself closer to the boy.
"Joey listen," He started, "Guys like that judge others because they don't understand that disabilities aren't liabilities. Sure you can't talk, but that doesn't mean you can't fight. In fact you're the best fighter on our whole team."
Mal snorted lightly as he bumped Jericho's shin with his elbow, "You could probably put Robin to shame if you really let him have it."
With crimson ears Jericho gave a shuffled kick against his teammate, his once drooping eyes now lit with a kinder glow.
'As if. I'm a pacifist Mal. I wouldn't beat up the poor bird for the fun of it.'
Herald laughed quietly, the vibrato barely noticeable through his melodious chortles.
"Aight, I'm kidding man! I know you're way too sweet for any real damage." He stood up, brushing down his tunic before turning back around centimeters away from the other's sun blessed face. Jericho felt his whole being tingle with anticipation; revving up an engine for a show stopping race.
"It's one of the things I love most about you, Joey."
Leaning in like the waves crashing upon the shore, their kiss was as powerful as the tides, but still retained the essence of tranquility; a lingering sensation of adoration and lust. Perhaps he didn't mesh well with society, but his lips fit perfectly against Mal's succulent mouth.