Angel's Touch

My first story on here, let me know if there is anything wrong with it.

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Boy A:
The atmosphere dropped a couple of degrees when he landed. Icicles spread out of his footprints like fleeing spiders. The chilling wind blows as he passes by. Such coldness isn’t normal. I continue to watch him from the crowd. He doesn’t look up, he doesn’t care. I wonder if the ice will ever melt. They just ignore him. He walks by, just flow by. He never turns head; except for mine. I watch as his invisible wings flap listlessly, trying to fly through the sea. I imagine them to be pure white with tints of grey, or maybe they will be ice clear; frozen wings. He looks up for a moment, as if he knew somebody was watching. I hope one day, he’ll look up at me.

Boy B:
He’s there again. I can feel him. He’s just this presence in the hallways, in my mind. I don’t know if I want to run away and hide or just ignore him. I know who he is. I know how popular he is. He’s the school’s little guardian angel of course. He is the golden Adonis of this pathetic wasteland. The savior of God’s rejects. One touch with his mighty hand will bring rapture and eternal peace. All his little puppets bow before him, giving him all that he needs. So why me? Why on God forsaken land does he pick me from this whirlpool of meandering fishes? I am not special; I am not significant; I am nothing. So stop it. Stop making me feel like I am something.

Boy A:
He did it again. A small twirl of his pen. He’s getting ink on his already stained fingers; like blood stains. I wonder if he killed anybody before. I can imagine that. Him with red stained hands, shivering at the thrill of murder. I continue to watch him. Head upon his black arm-length gloves, there is no light in his dark eyes. Perhaps if I nudge him a bit. Would he jump up in surprise with his wings out, ready to take flight? Or will he turn and hiss at me like a frightened cat with its claws drawn out? Curiosity hit me like a brick wall. I leaned over; and I gave the angel a little poke.

Boy B:
Hell, he touched me. It must have been an eternity of staring into his brilliantly blue eyes. Then, he just smiled like everything was dainty fine and ok. Well, it is not at all. Nothing is fine and happy and all-so-right. I don’t care for him and the rest of the world. I’m just perfectly great hating this dying world I live and will die on. We are all just fucked. So I wonder why he’s bothering to notice me. Could I be something worthy to pay attention to? Me, the worthless, pitiless, and merciless little speck? Am I more than nothing? I really wonder what it was that has him watching me, wanting me.

Boy A:
Nothing. His eyes are still a dark void, sucking away all joy and hope. He is only filled with malice and disturbing hate. When he leaves the room, life comes back. I can feel the other students gather around me; shielding me from this fallen angel. I wonder what was his sin, what could he had done to deserve this cruel punishment. To serve a dreaded human life span of torture upon this desolated planet. Poor little angel, my beautiful, sad and broken angel. He is floating through the crowds, the walls, but not through my mind. In my dreams, he is more solid than the concrete floors. What is he fleeing from? What could make him fear enough to tuck away his wings and run on two pathetic human legs with no gracefulness at all? Tonight, I still watch him, in my dreams, and through the windows. I keep watch on my little lamb as he laid his head to sleep on pure wine red sheets. His pale skin vividly stands out in the red embrace. Maybe it will be my embrace one day.

Boy B:
I can’t escape him. It was futile. I bet he’s standing there, in his room that is tactfully facing mine. Must be a damn set up. Ha ha, I’m laughing with you God almighty. Are you enjoying this? My slow and painful agony? Did you send your Gabriel down to make my life miserable? Such a magnificent person really has no business meddling with the likes of me. I know I can end it all. I know how easy it will be to take all my pains away. Just one simple cut and watch as my life flow away from me before the darkness eats me and send me down to Satan’s lair. But, not yet. The timing isn’t right. It has to be the perfect moment. And he must be there. Yes. He must be there to witness my death. To know that he can’t save me; to destroy all that he has thought of me. I want to take away all of his light. Pleasure swells up in me as I imagine the fearless look die from his bright eyes. My hands slip downwards. God, I groan. He’ll be completely helpless. He will know that the moment the blade kisses my skin, I will be doomed. It will be perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Boy A:
I came when he did. I didn’t have to see him to know. I can feel it. And oh how I wish to be there, to be the one to touch him, to caress him in the up most intimate way. I want to tease him until he’s begging me to ravishing senselessly. I imagine the sweet look of pleasure filling his face as I enter him. The look of pure ecstasy and as he cries out to heaven above, I will be his heaven, my fallen angel. I will be the one to banish the black holes in his heart and fill them with only my seeds. I will be the one to bleed him, to please him, and I will be the only person and thing he would ever need in his human death sentence. I will fix his wings and bring him to the steps of Heaven’s pearly gates. He will look to me with a beautiful serenity in his eyes. His hands will be willing to drag me into Heaven with him. And I will follow. I will follow him anywhere and eternity because he is all that I will ever need in my life.

Boy B:
The roses were only the beginning. Then came the letters, the chocolates, balloons, and then the gifts. I stare at these as they slowly filled my room. I should throw them away. I shouldn’t care for all this. But I do and I don’t know why. My heart keeps telling me that it won’t be bad, that he can really save me and give me eternity of pleasure. But I won’t let him. I won’t let him trick me into his falsified care. He already has so many toys to play with. He can do with one less, I am sure. The only pleasure I will ever gain from him is the death of dreams as I die before him. I don’t care for his declaration of admiration and interest. I don’t care that he wants to give me happiness and all the wonders of the world. I just don’t care that he thinks of me as an angel with silver painted wings and a frozen heart waiting to be melted by him, my supposed prince in white armor and God’s right hand. I will not submit to his glory and profane vanity. This angel is no savior of mine. Only my death will be my gift to him.

Boy A:
He finally gave in. I finally broke through his ice wall and grabbed hold of this angel. He’s looking at me with shimmer of hope and questioning as I clutch his small hand. Now that I have him, I’ll never let go. Sweet angel of mine forever. He’s watching me. There is confusion and fear in his eyes as I hold him close. Only in my embrace will he be safe and look up at me; just as I had dreamed. Soft skin pressed itself against me, bare skin to bare skin. Pain surfaced his visage when I touched him, take him. I fit perfectly in him and as I moved, only gasps of pleasure took his breath away. We end together in a harmonious cry and as I look to him in my arms, he is gazing up at me with the tiniest of smile caressing his lips. Leaning down, I steal that kiss and claim it as mine. Then, I hold him in trust as we both slip away into to the dark sleep.

Boy B:
Blue eyes flutters open. I cherish the confusion in the depths of those orbs. He’s taking it all in right now. Those twin bluebirds flutter about, from the ropes on his wrist and ankles to the small blade in my hand. Softly, he’s begging me for explanations, he wants to know who, what, when, why, and how. I laugh as I sit on his stretched out form, tease him by dragging the blade lightly down his cheek. I believe I must have kissed that spot at least three times, his ears about five, and his chest and stomach a grand total of a hundred. Caressing his chest, I can feel his wild heartbeat, clawing to get out. I chuckle at this as he continues to spout nonsense of love and hope and dreams. Sitting upon his naked form, I recall the moments before. When he was in me, tasting me. I admit that I loved how he played me like the Devil’s Trill, pulling pleasure from every crevice of my body. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. Above me, I look up at him like the sun on my dark soul. There was an expression upon his visage the entire time. One that spoke volumes. One that spoke of sweet nothingness.

Boy A:
I died. In my mind, my heart, my soul, I died. Now I lie here on this bed, these sheets, where I consumed a beautiful meal. I lie here as the blood drenches into those very sheets. I can’t see anything anymore. My eyes have lost sight of everything. I can only feel the weight of his body as it lies motionless upon me. The horror still plays in my minds eye. From when he held that cold cruel blade to his pale skin to fading of his dark orbs and face. I don’t understand this at all. I can’t understand it. What went wrong? Where is the fault that led up to this catastrophe? Could it have been me? Was my interference with this angel’s punishment the catalysis to this demise? Was I wrong to love him? But now, as I think more of this, as his life essence drowns me, I feel less numb. As his red ink absorbs into my veins, I read his sorrowful tale and misery and understand now of his sins. Lying here on this bed of love and death, I give my blessing and forgiveness to this fallen angel for his safe passage to the heavens above. I close my heart and eyes with him and his dark soul inside. And then I return to the blackness for eternity.

*~end~*