"Even Angels Fall"

by the Princess

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is my first 100% Trigun angst story, so please send C&C 
so I know how bad it sucks. The only clues I'm giving is that it's from 
Vash's POV and it's got yaoi. The song lyrics are by the Cruxshadows. The 
poem within is entitled "London After Midnight", and it belongs to me; however,
the last two lines are blatantly stolen from a song by London After Midnight
entitled "The Bondage Song". The end of "Even Angels Fall" contains the 
sound effect of breaking glass, which got me thinking; at about 2 in the 
morning, I scribbled everything down. Enjoy.

***

This is a gun unknown to me--unfamiliar, cold, and strange. My fingers curl
around it uncertainly. Slowly I aim it and pull its trigger, shooting ink
bullets at the paper before me. The shots start slow, then grow faster, until
the paper is full of the inky holes that my consciousness has created.

God, to stop loving him...

[Sorrow sings
Her kisses in silence]

I still remember her--through it all. I remember everything. The black tint
of her hair which was smooth as liquid marble. The warm curves of her smile,
the cool curves of her breasts, the hot, insistent curves of her hips. The
way she sat, the way she sang, the way the wind made love to her hair and
the sun played in her eyes... yes, I remember.

How the fuck could I forget?

[Adjust the blinds to keep the light
From mocking everything I feel]

But I also remember loneliness. Nights of nothing where I stared and screamed
at the stars that didn't give a damn. Days of dust and sand and burn and
blood and hate. Days of death and nights of lonely, dirty nothing-pleasure.
I was a shell, a puppet sans strings, a broken doll. And she would always
come to tease me in my dreams--her liquid eyes and her silk voice and her
satin body.

There were mornings when the sun would look so beautiful that all I wanted
in the world was to die.

[She dances slowly
A silhouette upon the curtain
But her eyes seem to cry
Only empty tears]

I found... companionship, eventually. Yes, I know how she felt, but... I
couldn't. I just couldn't. She reminded me too much of the fallen angel who
still haunted my dreams. As for the other, she was pretty and smart, but
didn't know it. No, I didn't and wouldn't love her, but I would envy the man
who gained her heart and body.

And then... there was him. Just a flicker on the sunrise, nearly missed,
nearly left to die. And he entered my life. There were no angels to 
announce his arrival, although there should have been.

I found myself watching him, my eyes drinking in everything--his hair, his
eyes, his lips. The way he left the top of his shirt unbuttoned. The way he
reached for a smoke. The small, wistful smile he wore when he offered food
to the children. And the strange, sharp way he looked at me when he caught
me smiling at him. I hadn't smiled like that since she left my life, and I
haven't smiled since he left me.

I remember our bodies moving perfectly in time--we said the same things,
mimicked the others' movements in a lovely, twisted dance. We practically
read each other's minds. And I knew he was going to get me in a hell of a
lot of trouble.

I just didn't know how much.

I was afraid of him--what he could do. He could kill me, he could get me in
my sleep, shoot me in the back, in the face. We both knew it.

But he never did.

[I beg for comfort
With inadequate verse]

I remember the first time. We did it. His eyes, blue-grey as a clouded sky,
full of questions and want. His lips brushing tentatively against my cheek,
the scratch of his stubble. A wave of excitement. I touch his face, draw
him closer, beg him to kiss me again. His smile. His kiss is passion,
bruising, harsh, and so wonderful. His tongue tracing the insides of my 
mouth, entwining with mine, oh God the sparks and fireworks. His fingers 
pulling at my clothes, his lips hissing in my ear. My fear rushes in my 
throat like acid, but I let him pull away my protective layers. His stare, 
and I'm afraid I've lost him... then his tears, his arms, his whispered 
promises to torture and kill whoever had hurt me. His kisses trailing down my 
neck, my collarbone, my scars, as I work him out of his clothes. His--mine--
our burning passions, our pent-up angers. Our loves.

[It meant so much to me
And so little to her]

I remember he left me. He was a priest, after all. And then, when we met
again, we both knew. It was destiny.

But if it was, then destiny is woven by a madman.

I remember hearing his loud denials, his curses and vicious words. Finally,
he breaks down. I can hardly believe that I'm seeing this strong, courageous
man weep. And he begs me to forgive him, he tells me he loves me, he always
will love me. And later, I remember the glass disappointment when I don't
tell him how I got my scars.

[And I am sinking into
A mountain of self-pity]

And then?

Betrayal.

I understand, in a way. He loves me and doesn't want me; it's wrong, so 
wrong, so dirty and lusty and feels so goddam good. He apologizes slowly, not 
meeting my eyes, and I accept. I honestly do forgive him. I love him. 
Anything to keep him from fucking anyone but me.

[Why can't I simply disregard
All the things I feel?]

I wasn't there when he died. I wish I had been. Maybe... maybe... maybe...
maybe... maybe I could have... I might have... I would have... I should 
have... They swirl in my head, fragments of hope sharper than glass and 
heavier than lead. They stick all through my mind and make me bleed to 
death, make my consciousness hemorrhage and flatline.

What might have been.

More cursed words were never invented.

Except for I love you.

[Where is my angel?]

What of your promises? Remember when we lay together under swollen twin 
moons, when the silver light turned the world into shades of obsidian and 
ivory and opals, when your arms were curled around my waist in a façade of 
protection and your breath was hazy on my cheek? You swore forever. You 
swore always. You swore never to let go.

Where are you now, my lusty, wicked angel?

It doesn't matter.

[Where is my angel?
Where is my angel when I need him most?]

I set my pen down. My verse is scrawled all over the paper, meaningless as
bullet holes, a string of twisted bodies.

"your love is gone
but still i'm here
i can't go on
for love of fear
i breathe you're blood
my heat burns strong
i fumble for you
all night long
i'll never know
what we could be
you were the best
and worst of me
untie these knots
inside my heart
take me to bed
rip me apart"

It's not Wordsworth, or Dickinson, or even Poe. And what does it matter?
Anything? Nothing. There is nothing in the world but the candle I write
by and the window before me. I extinguish the tiny, elusive flame; light
must not touch what I am about to achieve.

[Where is my angel?
Where is my angel?]

Deep breath. Deep breath. Steel my soul.

[Where is my angel?
Tell me now, where did he go?]

A few steps, a leap, a crash, I am in the night and it's never been as 
beautiful as it is now, the glass refracts the moon's light into billions of 
argentum sparks, the stars are diamonds, cruel diamonds, the air is warm and 
darkness, darkness opens its arms to me, darkness is taking me down, darkness
is guiding my body into the arms of gravity and endless dreams, darkness is
destiny.

I'm coming for you, love.

~*OWARI*~