❝fallen angels are destined for little else but raising hell.❞
[dark angel!5sos au]
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cw: this book contains strong language, descriptions of blood/gore, supernatural occurrences, mild sexual content, talk of various religions, drug/substance abuse...
Please forgive me, I've got demons in my head, Tryna eat me, tryna feed me lies until I'm dead, Please forgive me, I've got demons in my head
Demons; Hayley Kiyoko
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Michael's wings have effectively blocked out the entirety of the sun's light. The storefront is full of shaded darkness. Eden's breath has become caught in her throat, and her stomach has dropped like a stone. She has no idea who, no, what exactly she's currently perceiving.
She scrambles to scoot backwards, away from the angel and his wings, fear distorting her view of her best friend and roommate. Her chest heaves with anxious gasping breaths, and tears well up at the brims of her eyelids.
"Are you listening now, Eden?" Michael snaps, not making eye contact with her, ashamed he was brought to the point of revealing his true form.
"What—" she swallows, her voice small, her throat agonizingly dry and constricted, "—the hell, are you?"
He looks up for the briefest of moments, his heart sinking hearing the absolute terror in his friend's voice. He tucks his bottom lip between his teeth and slowly folds his wings so that they rest, at ease, behind him.
Michael takes a cautious step towards her, and she takes another push backwards, her tailbone aching as she does so, bruised from when she was pushed backwards from the force of his great wingspan opening up for her. His stomach twists in guilt seeing the fear in her eyes.
"You don't want to be around me, right now, do you?" Michael drops his gaze again, the seafoam flames fizzling out in the presence of tears. His voice reaches her as if he is speaking to her under water, muffled and blocked by ringing.
"No, Michael. Not fucking really. Wings just fucking exploded out of your back, and I am having a bit of trouble processing that little fun fact," Her voice trembles with increasing sarcasm laced with fear. The corners of her mouth turn into a false smile, as some tears finally spill out of her eyes. She presses her eyes together tight, letting the tears fall, almost praying that when she opens them, she'll wake up in bed from this horrific nightmare.
That release never comes. She opens her eyes, and his wings are still there, feathers and great spines curled in a defensive pattern around his arms. Her fight or flight response finally takes ahold of her mind; her body opts for flight. Her brain feels genuinely broken.
She has to get out of here.
She stands, rushing towards the front door on very shaky legs. When her hands reach the chilled glass, before she can push open the door to get away from the fortune shop and clear her whirlwind of thoughts, Michael clasps her right wrist in his hand, tight. Dark flashes of Michael's life pop across her vision, but she is too far gone to even register what these visions could mean or that they even happen.
