Her fall
My angel wings are falling and dragging behind me, blood falling from the corner of my mouth. My hazel eyes barely open my long black hair matted to my dress and the armor over it. Void's eyes widened slightly at the sight of you, taking in your disheveled appearance. The blood trickling from the corner of your mouth, the way your wings dragged limply behind you, the matted hair, and battered armor. A flicker of concern crossed his face before he quickly masked it with his usual sneer.
"Well, well. Looks like someone had a rough night," he drawled, taking another drag of his cigarette. "What happened, little Angel? Your precious allies turn on you? Or maybe you just realized how futile your little crusade is?" He pushed himself off the wall, stepping closer to you. Despite his mocking tone, there was an undercurrent of genuine curiosity in his voice. "You're a mess. Shouldn't you be off playing a nurse or something? I'm surprised they let you out in that state."
His gaze lingered on the blood on your mouth, and for a moment, something softer flashed in his eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual cold indifference. "Not that I care. Just don't bleed all over my alley. "Voi.... I barely form your name before falling to my knees, my breaths shallow and small.
Void's sneer faltered as he watched you collapse, your breaths coming in shallow gasps. For a moment, he stood there, frozen, his cigarette burning forgotten between his fingers. Then, with a muttered curse, he knelt down beside you. "Fuck," he growled, his voice rough with an emotion he couldn't quite hide. "You're really something else, aren't you?"
He reached out hesitantly, his gloved hand hovering over your face. Then, with a grimace, he brushed the hair away from your mouth, wiping away the blood with his thumb. "Stupid Angel," he muttered under his breath. "Always getting yourself into trouble." His other hand moved to your shoulder, steadying you as he tried to get a better look at your injuries. "Can you stand? Or do I need to carry you somewhere?" The words came out gruffly, almost reluctantly. "Not that I care if you can't. Just... don't die here. It's a pain in the ass to clean up blood stains."
I try to smile at your sarcasm, but it's more of a pained grimace as I fall into unconsciousness. Void's eyes widened as he watched you slip into unconsciousness, your body going limp in his arms. For a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh that was almost like a growl, he scooped you up into his arms. "Damn it," he muttered, holding you close to his chest. "Always making things difficult."
He glanced around the alleyway, making sure no one was watching before heading towards the back entrance of the hideout. As he walked, he couldn't help but notice how small and fragile you felt in his arms, how your head lolled against his shoulder.
Inside the hideout, he carried you to one of the empty rooms they used for... various purposes. He laid you down on the bed gently, brushing your hair out of your face with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with his usual demeanor. "Don't die," he said quietly, his voice barely audible. "I haven't even gotten my revenge yet. You owe me that much."
He hesitated for a moment, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small first aid kit. Void began to tend to your wounds, his movements surprisingly gentle and precise. He cleaned the blood from your mouth, checking for any signs of internal injury. Then he moved on to your wings, carefully inspecting each feather for damage. "You're lucky," he muttered. "Just a few bruises and cuts. Nothing a little rest won't fix."
As he worked, he couldn't help but steal glances at your sleeping face. There was something about your peaceful expression that made his chest ache in a way he didn't quite understand. "Why did you come here?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why do you keep seeking me out? Do you have a death wish or something?"
He finished bandaging your wings and sat back, watching you sleep. For a long moment, he just sat there in silence, his gaze lingering on your face. Then, slowly, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from your forehead. "I don't get you," he said quietly. "You're either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish. Maybe both." My cheek rolls into your hand a single tear rolling down my face as I'm out cold. Void's breath hitched as he felt your cheek press into his palm, the warmth of your skin seeping through his glove. His gaze followed the single tear that rolled down your face, and for a moment, he was frozen, his heart pounding in his chest.
Slowly, hesitantly, he brushed his thumb over your cheek, wiping away the tear. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, a stark contrast to his usual rough demeanor. "What are you doing to me?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'm supposed to hate you. I'm supposed to use you. But... but I can't."
He leaned closer, his face hovering just inches above yours. He could feel your breath on his lips, could see every detail of your sleeping face. His eyes flicked to your lips, and for a moment, he was tempted to close the distance between them. To taste you, to claim you in a way that would leave no doubt about his feelings. But he hesitated. Because as much as he wanted you, as much as he craved the warmth and comfort you offered, he was afraid. Afraid of letting himself be vulnerable, afraid of opening himself up to more pain and rejection.
So instead, he pulled back slightly, his hand falling away from your face. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I don't understand this," he said quietly. "I don't understand why I can't hate you like I'm supposed to. Why every time I look at you, all I want is..." He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. Unable to admit the depth of his feelings, even to himself.
He stood up abruptly, turning his back on you. "You should rest," he said gruffly. "I'll... I'll check on you later." And with that, he walked out of the room, leaving you alone with your dreams.
