Evan, in no way, was good at landing. He has been assigned humans before, and it would always end up with a gash that ran across one of his wings once he got down to Earth. It wasn't much of a surprise when he slid across the street, on his side, with only a wing protecting him from the cement. It was still an unpleasant feeling, since his wings were connected to most - if not all - of his nerves. Slowly, the male stood up and stretched his back. He glanced down at his wing, flinching at the grotesque sight. He whined quietly, walking over to the sidewalk. Evan sat next to the wall, a thin trail of blood running from the middle of the street to his side. He wrinkled his nose at the sight, then took a few slow breaths. Right, finding his human, he should work on that.
The male stood up and wiped his hands on his pants, sighing through his nose as he tried to remember the description of his human. There were so many people on Earth, so this would be another challenge. He was only given the short description of ‘long hair, pale skin, tall, in America’. He didn’t even know if he was in the right state!
"Uhm, excuse me--" His voice came out small, tapping on someones shoulder. "Do you know anyone named Connor... Murphy?" He asked, hoping that the other would be able to help him on his way.
Connor had been walking down the street, escaping his parent’s constant fighting. He had headphones in, listening to the loudest song he could find. He jumped when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He took out one of the earbuds, turning down his music and turning around quickly. “hOLY SHIT!” He backed away, scared out of his mind. “What the FUCK are those!” He pointed at the boy’s wings.
Evan tensed, his eyes widening for a second. Only his human could see his wings, and this was looking promising. He had, of course, forgotten this bit of his breifing, it being his first mission and all. Hell, he even forgot that he had wings, his only reminder being the dull pain in his torn wing. But Connor's yelling was drawing unwanted attention, and Even was hoping he could keep his existence quieter than it currently was. He quickly grabbed the guy’s arm and pulled him off to the side, "Okay, uhm, calm down, I won’t hurt you, I promise." He quickly said, letting go and holding his hands up. He forgot that too, he physically could not hurt his human. "I-I just uh-- I wanted to know if you knew Connor Murphy." He gently asked, taking a few steps back.
Connor took a step back. “Who’s asking?” He didn’t want random people knowing him. Though, most people knew him anyway, his infamous nickname was Mister School Shooter, so how wouldn’t someone. He hated how that’s how most people knew him. “What’s the name?”
"Me? Uhm, I'm Evan." He introduced himself, holding his hand out, only to pull it back a few seconds later. "You /are/ him, right? You match the description..." He trailed off, narrowing his eyes for a moment. Evan examined him closely, wrinkling his nose.
“Hey hey hey, a step back.” He brought his hands up. “I’m Connor Murphy.” He looked around, making sure nobody was around them. “Why do you know who I am? And what’s with the wings?” He pulled on the wing that seemed healthiest.
Evan yelped, tugging back and huffing. "Please don't pull on those." He exhaled, brushing his hair out of his face. "I was sent down here to protect you. Uhm, from death, bad things-- y'know, that type of stuff. I-I sound so weird, right?" He forced a laugh, looking down.
Connor shoved his hands in his pockets, blowing a strand of hair out of his face. “So you know about me. You know it all don’t you.” He struggled not to glare at Evan. ‘You got to give him a chance Con. Might be your only chance.’ “Can other people see you?” He looked down at the shorter boy, biting the inside of his lip, a nasty habit.
"Mhm. I know about your family struggles, along with your school struggles." Evan nodded, fidgeting with his hands and clearing his throat, "Other people can see me, they just can't see my wings. So I look normal to them." He didn't let himself look up at the other male.
“So whatcha gonna do about it? I’m a basket case. You should be with some other sack of bones.” He looked to the side, staring at an old factory wall. “You’re being punished. That’s it, isn’t it. You wouldn’t be here otherwise, right?”
"I'm here to help you, Connor. With whatever you might need help with. It's not a punishment, I chose this.” The angel took a small step forward, "Maybe one day I can convince you that you're not worthless."
Connor stopped breathing periodically. No one had ever said something like that. Something with hope. His eyes started watering, and with the shame that he was crying in front of someone he just met, he covered his face as he turned his back on Evan. Without thinking, he punched the wall, creating a hole in the plaster. His knuckles were drowning in blood, but he didn’t notice. “YOU’RE LYING!” He yelled. He had to be, nobody had ever really wanted to help him; his own mother saw him as a project, not even as a son.
Evan's eyes widened as he rushed over to Connor, holding his arm and tugging him back. "Okay, uhm, I-I'm not lying-- please don't do that." He grabbed his hand and examined it closely, pushing his sleeve over it, trying to stop the bleeding. "Just-- um, breathe, okay?"
Connor fell to the ground, not moving his sleeve from his face. With his knees brought up to his chest as close as they could be, he rested his head in them. He sobbed quietly, pulling his arms closely. He ignored Evan. He sat there, shaking violently, his flaws rushing to his head, taking over his mind.
Evan watched him with sad eyes, hesitantly moving to sit next to him. "... Are you in pain?" He softly asked after a few minutes had passed, placing a hand on his back and gently rubbing it.
Connor nodded, trying to catch his breath. He wasn’t quite hyperventilating, but he was breathing faster than normal. “I’m... I’m fine.” He got to his feet, face red. His cheeks were still wet, but he didn’t notice. “Why were you sent to me?” He tried to regain his slacker attitude, failing, but not having enough energy to do anything about it.
Evan looked up at him, then at the cement ground. "I was sent here to help you. Uhm, I can tell you're not in the best state of mind, right? I can help with that." He got up, clearing his throat, "I can help make you feel good about yourself."
“You sound like my therapist.” Connor grabbed Evan’s chin firmly, making him look at him. “What even are you.” He put emphasis on ‘are’, making it a bit more aggressive than he would have liked. He wasn’t proud of how scary he was when he was serious, but he didn’t know how to fix it.
Evan flinched, placing a hand on Connor's wrist and forcing his hand away. He shrugged, "I-I don't know? My name is Evan, and I'm your guardian angel." He paused, pursing his lips, "I guess I'm an angel, right? Is that a good answer?"
“I thought Angels were just myth to keep adults in line.” Connor ran a hand through his hair, face twisting when he hit a knot. “You know you’re gonna get hurt, right. And how will you even be around to help. It’s not like you can just walk into my school.”
"I'm already hurt." Evan mumbled, motioning to the gash on his wing. "I could walk into your school if I wanted to. I could do anything I wanted to." He shrugged again, crossing his arms, "I'll just follow you around and make sure you're safe."
“That’s not really how it works, Ev.” Connor paused, realising what he just said. “You have to enroll- Wait, have you ever done that before?” He took out his phone, going to his school’s website.
"... Huh?" Evan tilted his head, glancing over and looking at his phone. "I don't know, I'm not good with high school stuff. I've only helped adults." He muttered, biting at his lower lip. “And it’s how things worked when I was young.” He mumbled, getting closer to Connor to see what he was typing.
“Heh, looks like I’m a first.” He went to a form, filling it out quickly. “It says your name is Evan and that you’re 16 years old. Ok?” His thumb hovered over the screen. He showed Evan the phone screen, “it’s to enroll you for this year.”
Evan nodded slowly, narrowing his eyes at the bright screen. "Mhm." He took a small step back, closing his eyes and sighing softly. "Why are you out so late? Where's your house?"
“I ran recently. But it’s right down the street, I ain’t going back tonight though.” He pointed down the street, ducking out from the alleyway. He glared at the big white house at the end of a beautiful dead end road. It made him sick to go there, to even know it’s his house. Connor tended to stay outside until the late night because he dreaded being around his parents.
"Where do you plan to stay for the night? From what I've heard, you don't have any friends to stay with." He furrowed his brows, taking Connor's hand and leading him to the house he pointed to.
“Yea, not happening.” He tried to stop Evan, underestimating how strong he was. “They’d kill me.” He ran, trying to keep up with the angel. “I’m gonna stay in the old mail building like always.” He nodded toward an old, decaying building nearby.
Evan continued to walk, "We can talk it out with them. Calmly." He glanced back at Connor and gave him a small smile. "You're not staying there tonight. You have this nice house you could stay in."
“Yea... nice.” He spoke sarcastically. “And where do you think you’re gonna stay? Can’t be my house, they’ll kick us both out.” He didn’t say anything else for a few minutes.
"I'll stay outside. On the streets." Evan ignored Connor’s whining (Why can’t I stay out with you?) (Because I’m not alive, you need warmth.) (Goddamnit.). They stopped in front of the house and Evan let go of Connor’s hand. He nudged Connor toward the door and began heading to the back of the house before Connor could argue any further.
Connor sighed, trudging up the steps to the porch. He hesitated before opening the door. He hoped that his father would be passed out on the couch, or even better, in his room with his mother. But as he glanced quickly around the living room, he could see that luck was not on his side that night, as his father was sitting on the couch with the tv on, cradling a beer while blankly staring at the sports channel.
Connor ducked down, hoping to pass by silently and unnoticed. He made it to the kitchen without even his boots making a noise. But by the time he got to the first step of the stairs, the tv went to commercial and his father got up to get another beer. And Connor was sadly only halfway up the staircase when his father finally heard the creak from the broken stair.
“Connor?” He called out. Connor began to run up the steps, only 5 remained, but his ability to get to his room unscathed was a game of guesswork now. “GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE FAGGOT!” Connor heard from the bottom of the steps. He sprinted down the hall. His legs almost gave out by the time he got to his room, and he slammed the door shut, locking it just with only a second to spare before he heard the pounding of fists on the wood.
Connor stumbled backwards, and he wasn’t expecting Evan to be right behind him. His heart jumped, and once he got himself under control, he sat on his bed. A hand placed over the wound on his knuckles almost as soon as he landed on the comforter, and Connor could feel it heal almost instantly. "Not a very friendly family, huh?" He didn’t question Evan’s abilities, as he guessed that angels were just as strange as the lure around them said they were, but they never said they were this human.
Connor turned to the boy sitting next to him. He noticed the gash on Evan’s wing for the first time that night, how red it was, and how painful it looked. He hurriedly went into the bathroom connected to his room, returning with some bandages and gauze pads. “Dude, what even happened?” He was calmer than he expected himself to be, because no matter how tough he seemed, he almost puked at the sight of blood.
Evan pursed his lips, slowly pulling his hand back to inspect the damage. "I'm horrible at landing. I have scars all over me because I'm just so bad at it." He laughed quietly, wiping his hand off on his pants.
“Just land in a pool or something.” Connor chuckled as he went to work on the wing, hesitantly taking the appendage into his hand. He put one of the gauze pads on the scar, wrapping it in the ace bandaging. “Why don’t you practice doing it?”
"I can't swim." Evan leaned into his touch, closing his eyes and wrinkling his nose. "Plus, it's not everyday I get to come down here. It has been years since my last visit. So.. Yeah, I can't."
“Yo-Kay.” Connor sat down next to Evan, pushing the medical supplies onto the floor. He kicked off his shoes
Evan laid down on the bed and smiled, pushing a hand into his hair and relaxing a bit. "You're stuck with me for now. Isn't that exciting. I might be less stable than you.” Evan laughed awkwardly before realising what he said. He noticed Connor wince at his words. “Oh gosh I didn’t mean it like that-- I’m so sorry, I just meant- actually, I’ll just stop talking.
Connor sat up abruptly, leaning against the headboard. His hood was over his head with some of his hair poking out, but his eyes were completely hidden. “So exciting.” He was sarcastic, making jazz hands for emphasis. He shot up when he heard a banging against his door. It had stopped periodically, but Connor didn’t notice.
Evan tensed, quickly getting up and looking at Connor. He tilted his head, then opened the door, even though he knew he couldn’t have messed up more. "Uhm, hi?"
“Who the fuck are you!” Connor winced at the sound of his father’s voice. He got up, pushing Evan gently out of the way. “Get away from my room.”
Evan stumbled back at the force, and grabbing Connor's arm for balance before he fell. He stood again in front of Connor before speaking. "Evan. Uhm, you must be Connor's dad, right?"
“Is he your little toy?” His father laughed, barging into the room. “I told you, you little Faggot! Do you want to be kicked out!” He got up in Connor’s face. Connor could smell the scent of alcohol on his father’s breath. “Get out Larry! You’re drunk!” Connor yelled back, pushing Evan into the bathroom. “Leave him alone!” Connor yelled at his father.
Evan winced as he was pushed back again, balling his hands into fists. He watched for a moment before he closed his eyes in deep concentration, electrocuting the man before the two of them. He ran forward and pushed Larry into the hall, before he slammed the door shut and locked it, "Okay, uhm, not a nice house at all."
Connor just stared, mouth wide. “What the- How did-... What?” His eyes were widening with every second. “How did you do that?”
"I-I don't know I just-- I didn't like how he treated you." Evan shrugged, hugging himself and looking away. "... Uhm, I'm sorry."