god stood him up.

one mistake, and he had fallen— a tumble from grace so steep it left him bruised in ways the world would never see. abandoned and scorned, a fool, a disappointment, regret, a misplaced soul. a disgrace unworthy to be called son. he had failed, not just himself, but everything he had been taught to hold sacred. it was his fault, this he did not deny. words gathered heavily on his tongue, yet fear kept them locked away.

they dirty their hands so the world remains clean, a creed he had clung to as if it could sanctify what he had done. but in quest for absolution, his own hands grew filthier still. brothers and sisters fell around him, their lifeless forms painted broken blue, their eyes locked to his with something inexplicable— honor, perhaps even disbelief. and that weighed heavier than any accusation.

betrayal struck him once more, as it always did. he’d tried to get it right, to rewrite the story with a better ending, only to find himself at wrong again. he was scared. but when he was scared, he became a child again—a naive, trusting boy betrayed by his brother. and what terrified him more than anything was not the fear itself, but the thought of being that again. that wide-eyed innocence, so easily manipulated, so easily broken. but he knew he would always be that child. he would always be weak.

and all costs you.

he never mean it.

it was all a mistake.

and if he's as bad as they say, then he guess you're cursed lookin' into his eyes. but you're already hurt. tunneled mind. pale skin. dead, dilated eyes. snap. his senses snaps back to his overused body. hands tainted. dripping red. stiffening his entire system to the ends of his hair to a peninsula in an ice age. his hold on the angel blade falters.

his metronome, blurry, pulsing vision slowly clears. his eyes finding their way down his hand in an instant as the definite silence in his ears fades, leaving the sounds of his heaves and heartbeat, more when his gaze moves up, meeting those familiar eyes. you.

"no."