[CLOSED] taking on water.

[deacon reid rudman]

Deacon started the drive home, which was almost painfully slow. Traffic made him want to go and touch every single one of the idiotic drivers and put them out of his misery.

Bandit gasped, looking up at him. Deacon never let her eat in the car. She reached in carefully, pulling out a small treat. She put it gently on Connor's leg, then smiled at him. She took another out of the package, sticking it in her mouth. She looked out the back window at the sky, chewing on her snack.

"Mm mm mm." She hummed, taking another out of the package. She put it into her mouth, then sat another on Connor's leg. "Mm mm." She told him, grinning a toothless grin.

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[connor crayze sykes]

Connor only longed for such innocence, shaking his head at the offered treats with an exhausted smile that didn't reach past his lips. He offered the treats back, eyes straying to his own finger-bruised wrists. He tugged his hoodie sleeves lower to hide the marks, sighing softly.

He felt absolutely sick to his stomach, glanced warily at the guy driving before cautiously lifting his tops to gaze at his bruised stomach. Part of it was from a hard hit, part of it just because his sick body decided he needed another painful bruise.

He closed his eyes, knowing that this never could have been different. Even as an angel when he was supposed to be an 'angel' he hadn't been immortal..had never really died, hadn't been given the chance to, and come back okay. And now...when he did die...
Those gates to heaven? They were closed to him forever.

[deacon reid rudman]

Deacon pulled up at a freakishly old house at the very edge of town. It didn't even have a street in front of it, and was so far back in the forrest, you couldn't see it until you were right up on top of it. He opened his door, and waited for the boy to get out before opening the other door, grabbing Bandit. He walked around the front of the car, grabbing the groceries, then shutting the door with his foot.

He walked up the winding concrete walk way to the huge front door. He opened it, then walked in, putting his keys on the table by the door. He turned on the light, and it was like they were back in Victorian England. He sat Bandit down, then carried the groceries to the kitchen.

"Feel free to eat whatever. We have a lot of fruit because Bandit likes smoothies." He loaded her milk into the fridge, then closed the door. "Bathroom is upstairs, and the guest bedroom is the first door on your right."

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[connor crayze sykes]

Connor followed him hesitantly inside, biting his lip uneasily as he glanced around. This guy wasn't for real...
He was still hung up on his words, and why he was managing to hold the little girl just fine, shook his head in response to food.

He was aching to stretch his wings but had to refrain. removing his hoodie however, a blood drenched shirt was revealed, as well as exactly how thin and starved her was. Bathroom...maybe he could go hide in there for awhile, didn't know what else to do honestly.

He was at a loss, and this guy was probably to be untrusted like all the rest anyway. Coughing hoarsely he grimaced.

[deacon reid rudman]

Deacon saw the boy was bleeding, and walked upstairs. He rummaged through his clothes, grabbing a pair of pajama pants and a t shirt. He walked downstairs, setting them on the back of the sofa, then walking all the way around him.

"There's you some clothes, okay? i know they're kind of big.. I havent eaten in a couple of years so.." He rummaged through the fridge, handing Bandit a bottle.

"I'm gonna call Britt, okay? After you shower, he can come get you bandaged up. I would do it, but I can't.." He hopped up on the counter, sitting on one of the corners. He pulled his phone from his pocket, dialing Britt's number.

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[connor crayze sykes]

Connor nodded uncertainly. Why did this guy even care? Taking up the clothes he headed for the bathroom and closed the door, stripping off his bloody shirt, staring quietly at the tattoos he had done on his chest. A hand traced Adam's name and he bit his lip, rummaging through his backpack for a razor blade. He snatched it up, pulling his bottoms off, and stared dejectedly at the word 'faggot' tattooed on his bony hip, something he had been forced to have done, his classmates deciding it would be funny to do to him.

He turned on the water and slipped into the warm spray, wincing as it washed blood from his raw back. But it didn't matter, it would only happen again. Tears ran down his cheeks, mingling with the shower's spray, and he sank down in the tub, drawing his knees to his chest beneath the shower of water, shivering as he let his tears fall, playing with the razor blade. He drew it ruggedly across his bruised left wrist, paralyzed right hand causing a bit of struggle. Then he just clenched it tight, letting it bite into his palm, reveling in the pain it brought.

[deacon reid rudman]

Deacon sat on the counter, his legs swinging back and forth against the counter, his phone beside him. He saw Bandit laying on her back, drinking her bottle before slowly slipping into sleep. He remembered when he had taken her, a sick, fragile little girl. Deacon had pleaded with Saint Peter, begged him not to take the girl, not to let her go. He took her, and have him back an angel, a baby he could hold and touch. Only she had no wings.

He heard a truck drive up, and slipped off the sofa, scooping the little girl into his arms. He carried her to her play pen, laying her down before opening the door, letting in his very handsome friend. Britt walked over and sat on the couch.

"Please, sleep here tonight.. At least let me pay you.." Deacon pleaded with him, but Britt only shook his head.

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[connor crayze sykes]

Connor staggered slowly to his feet and shut off the water, standing there and letting it drip from his body and hair, blood running down his fingertips. Drawing boxers back on, he pulled on the pajama pants and gathered his things, gazing at the reflection of his torn back in the mirror.

Beneath the nasty wounds and scar, the dark, upside down V was prominent, the scar in the middle of his chest where the goddess had thrust her sword through his sternum and directly between once white wings, severing them...where the new black ones from Hades now were, hidden beneath his skin, aching to rip through.

He stumbled out of the bathroom, shirt in one hand backpack in the other as he coughed ruggedly, freezing up when he noticed the number of people had upped by one.

[britton "britt" markus roberts]

Britt looked up at the boy, and a smile played on his lips. He took the first aid kit carefully from Deacon, not touching his hands.

"He's a cute one. Do you always pick up cute guys knowing you can't touch them?" He asked Deacon, who gave him a death glare.

"That's WHY he's here! BECAUSE I can't touch him." Deacon said in his defense. Britt laughed, obviously not believing him.

"Okay, okay. Back away, Grimmy. I might be dying, but I ain't itching to go yet." He gently took the boy by the elbow, sitting him down on the coffee table. Britt sat behind him and carefully began bandaging the bruises at the bottom of his back, being careful of his wings.

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[connor crayze sykes]

Connor worked his jaw as he looked the two over, watching them interact. Dying huh? someone he had something in common with he supposed.

He sat obediently, tense at every touch along his bruised and beaten body. There were no wings currently to be seen, he was too afraid to retract them from his body, tear the wounds even more. Breaths quick and uneasy, he was acutely aware of how revealed his thin body was right now, ribs able to he counted, segments of his spine.

He overturned his left hand, gazing at the fresh blood there, searching for a distraction. A crazy thought passed through his head...he could end it all here. No more pain and sorrow and hurt. no more abuse of failed suicide attempts. What if he just reached out and grabbed that deacon guy? Wouldn't that end it all?