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This is probably one of the longest deaths he'd ever waited for.
Neil’s death is also one he never wants to even consider, but he knows that it’s coming. His calling somehow blares through the explosions and gunfire of the battle field, and it doesn’t matter who needs him right then. He’s needed somewhere, and he considers his calling first before anything else. He’s an angel, after all. And this is his best friend.
Neil has dragged himself over behind one of the fallen walls, bleeding heavily from his side. It didn’t take Charlie long to find him. He sits down next to him, leaning back against the brick and trying to drown out the sounds around him and focus on what he was supposed to do. He wouldn’t say that it had gotten easier over time, but he had started to dissociate a little more, bottling up the emotions so that he could do his job and not necessarily letting them out later. It was a dangerous way to live, especially for an angel of death, but it is what he needs to do to survive here.
The setting itself is familiar. He and Neil used to sit against the back wall of their high school after football practice, just talking and hanging out without a care in the world. He wishes, for a moment, that they could go back there and make different decisions—ones that wouldn’t end with them here, at this moment in time—but if anyone knew how unavoidable death was, it was Charlie Wellman. So he just sits with him, placing one hand on his side, using his abilities to take away the pain of the death and getting him to focus a little more. Neil’s eyes are glassy, unfocused, but he manages to turn enough to look at Charlie, and give him half of a scared smile.
( *** )
1513 words
Neil’s death is also one he never wants to even consider, but he knows that it’s coming. His calling somehow blares through the explosions and gunfire of the battle field, and it doesn’t matter who needs him right then. He’s needed somewhere, and he considers his calling first before anything else. He’s an angel, after all. And this is his best friend.
Neil has dragged himself over behind one of the fallen walls, bleeding heavily from his side. It didn’t take Charlie long to find him. He sits down next to him, leaning back against the brick and trying to drown out the sounds around him and focus on what he was supposed to do. He wouldn’t say that it had gotten easier over time, but he had started to dissociate a little more, bottling up the emotions so that he could do his job and not necessarily letting them out later. It was a dangerous way to live, especially for an angel of death, but it is what he needs to do to survive here.
The setting itself is familiar. He and Neil used to sit against the back wall of their high school after football practice, just talking and hanging out without a care in the world. He wishes, for a moment, that they could go back there and make different decisions—ones that wouldn’t end with them here, at this moment in time—but if anyone knew how unavoidable death was, it was Charlie Wellman. So he just sits with him, placing one hand on his side, using his abilities to take away the pain of the death and getting him to focus a little more. Neil’s eyes are glassy, unfocused, but he manages to turn enough to look at Charlie, and give him half of a scared smile.
( *** )
1513 words
