Inked Wings

/ Angel’s POV /

I blaze through the skies, the blinding lights of this cursed district reaching this high.

Cold air hits my face, my legs and scrotum, the wind blasting my ears. All this makes it more noticeable, the warmth I’m carrying. The kid is in my cold arms, warming my chest, all the cover it has being a tank top. He is unsettlingly still.

I mean…can’t blame him for being shocked.

‘Argh…’ - fuck.

I slide into the underground stations of this place. These stations abandoned; they are serving as the perfect storage. This is where I left my pod ship. It is rather small and round but it’s like a getaway apartment. Can’t complain. My wings itch as I suddenly turn into standing position, landing right at the entrance of the ship. I step in, letting the kid down on his feet.

The doors lock behind us.

Out the corner of my eye I see him steady himself against the side wall. His back against it, he slides down, eyes still wide.

I stretch my head together with my wings, continuing down the hall into the panel room. I fly us out away from this District, fleeing from said station at full speed. In no time, we’re past the star.

The screen already suggests to contact Dad. I press Dial then wait, shifting my weight against my hands, palms against the panel. A groan together with a burp leaves me. Had that pressing against my ribs for a while now. My stomach feels lighter.

My wings flutter, still twitching. I try stretching them slowly, repeating until Dad picks up.

‘Finally,’ I exhale.

‘Did something happen?’ He can tell. ‘You’re calling rather early.’ I can practically hear him falling to the side, checking the watch.

‘Well -’ I huff. ‘All’s gone to shit. M’sorry, but some trackers found his home and – you might guess – your friend seemed tough.’

Breathing. ‘Ah,’ Dad starts, rather mechanical. ‘What about his -’

‘The boy’s under my watch for now.’

‘He is with you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Does he know?’ Sympathy came through.

‘Of course he does. We saw the corpse.’

‘Dear -’ Dad falters. ‘Is he – stable? Does he need anything? You should leave him food and let him take a hot shower.’

‘Dad, I think that’s the least he worries for.’

′I’m aware. He needs care and comfort right now. He will be even more miserable if he sits in his own stink or on an empty stomach.′ Dad’s tone becomes suddenly harsh.

’I’ll try to talk to the kid. More importantly… when I get back, we need to have a meeting. I know the others don’t agree with targeting the troops stations because it’s – unsafe. Still, I will pursue to put a hold, if anything, to this worldwide wipe and lock down. I’m sick of it.′ I complain.

Dad scolds me. ‘We’ll discuss it organically! Now check on that boy, he must be – poor thing.’

‘Now, now. See you.’

Call ends.

Sigh.

I make my way back into the hall. The kid’s still there, barely moving a limb. I approach him and crouch to his level. ‘Hey.’

He blinks at me.

‘I have a room for you.’ I point in the direction. ‘You can shower and rest there. Also, you can leave your clever backpack anywhere inside…’

I am met with a clear, sharp glare.

‘You should rest,’ I continue. ‘Considering – you are an orphan now, I assume.’

Now I’m met with what looks like disgust.

’Eat. Shit.′ The kid gets up in a swift move, backpack latched onto him. He disappears behind the door I showed him a moment ago.

Well…I tried.

21:01

The food is done. I prepare two plates, leaving mine near the counter inside the panel room. I have nutrient bars and mushroom jelly this time so – he will have to adjust.

I walk the hall, stopping at the door. I knock once. ″M coming in.′

The room is empty and the darkness backs away, the light of the hall intruding inside. Seriously though, I am trying to ease the awkwardness inside my mind as I stare at this kid, ass planted to the floor, back against the wall (again), numbness plastered on his face; while I’m holding the plate like an idiot. I step forward twice, as if I’m trying to approach a rogue creature. I let down the tray of food, eyeing him intently.

It seems he can feel my stare as his face is scrunching into an ugly glare and snare.

He snarls. ‘What?’

‘Here’s food. You should dig in.’ I pick the fork and gesture taking a piece. ‘You know…’

’...Wow.′ I hear sarcasm leave him. ``Looks like you really need to remind yourself of that. No cap.′ He does not face me though.

Was that an attempt to diss me?

‘You can do better than calling me dumb, kid.’ I stand. ’After you eat, go shower. I will check on you again.′ A line which comes off more demanding than I originally intend.

21:35

Well, he did dig in. I find the plate in the hall, on the floor, parts of the jelly scooped out with the spoon and scattered on the tray. Obviously, he does not have an appetite.

He left quite the mess – I think I need to get real with him and tell him he… can’t scrape lines into my belongings! I am now noticing the marks he left on the tray.

“Asshole” is carved on the back.

Being a prick, I see! When I lost people, I cried or blew up trash in anger – not straight out disrespected the people who were there for me, I did not.

I go to unlock the door, moving my hand towards the panel on the right.

He needs a lectu-

My palm freezes in place, my ear slightly twitching at the faint noise. …Crying?

Kid’s – breathing fast, and hard.

I… should come back later. People are not reasonable when they are panicking. Still, if it is a panic attack, I should stay put. In case. My wings jolt while my body jumps.

He just screamed.

Whimpers creep under the ground. It feels like this, the vibrations of his screams. They are latching onto the inside of my feathers.

Time moves at a slow pace. So slow, I can even do a report to express how I’m stuck in this weird trance, listening to a child breaking down. The worst of it is the familiarity. The familiarity of the weight on my shoulders coming down and stripping me off my limbs and spine. It would be and understatement to say I despise it.

I knock, quickly regretting it while I do. All sound stops at once, letting an awkward, unbearable silence settle in. Now I’ve done it. I do not understand how to approach this.

The door slides open and once again he is curled up in a corner, now hiding his face between his knees. He is clenching his jeans.

‘Do you need anything? Maybe a pillow?’ I muster a plausible excuse to why the fuck I’m standing right behind the doorframe like a deer head in the car lights. My wings, ironically almost, contradict my excuse, mimicking the motions of shrugging.

’Just…just get…out.′ A raspy breath echoes.

Weird sound, almost unreal.

I exhale. ‘I will be real with you. We need to accommodate each other until we figure out what is next for you. Right now, we’re heading back to the family, latter…unknown.’

His grip tightens, almost ripping the life out of those jeans. I let him sit a little bit, taking a pillow and updating the heat of the room. I rest the pillow in the middle of the dimly lit space.

I step back, eyeing the kid.

I sigh. ‘I have no idea what you’re going through, kid. Can’t read minds, yet – I’ve lost people to them too. Feels like crap.’ I close the door behind me.

26:57

It is very late in the cycle’s day; the clock is ticking absurdly loud. I should just turn it off; being transfixed by my business though, I’m not stopping only to mute the clock. Wasteful.

Reading the “E” cache through; the files sent by Ra’ and Yves, scrolling through soon to be deleted documents – steals all the important hours of sleep. My finger is becoming numb.

I feel my body heat drop.

There’s another presence in here now.

I find the kid staring. He is pale, pursing his lips then relaxing them now and again. His side now pressed against the wall, he’s hugging himself. While raising his brow, he sticks out his chin a bit. To understand my activity, likely.

‘I’m receiving some ideas my counterparts sent me. You interested in technology?’

He tenses. ‘...what?’

‘I noticed your screen so I think what I’m going over may – I don’t know – be somethin’ you wanna engage with.′

‘Suurre ~’ He whistles.

I simper, huffing. ‘It’s a sketch of a pipe system.’ I point. ‘Water circulates towards each main point or cross path, where multiple residents are able to drink purified substances.’

He now turns, fully facing me. ‘MYRIEL gadgets are free real estate.’ He shrugs, monotone voice faintly slipping to emotion.

‘...this is for an unregistered society, living on a “Non-marking”.’

‘You…mean a planet that them don’t – um – see?’ He shrugs.

‘A planet under MEA’s radar, yes.’

The kid remains quiet, nodding simply.

‘U Noel, correct?’ I say.

His jaw tenses. ‘Hm.’

‘You can call me Angel.’

‘....u…tting.’ Some murmurs I miss from him.

My finger presses escape, closing the tabs. ‘It’s late, what about resting, kid?’

He slowly separates himself from the wall, arms still crossed, walking out without word.

I deeply sigh. I suddenly feel…fatigue?

3:18

I’m supposed to be resting, now sitting on the wall table since I can’t use my initial room while the kid’s using it. Spasms keep coming. My body is trying to tell me something – that there’s puzzling restlessness, most likely. An exhale shoots out my nostrils.

‘Aaauughh.’ I groan. My wings stretch when I jump off the table, making my way to the control panel. Maybe I can get more work done with this insomnia.

Entering the corridor, the bedroom door suddenly slides open. The kid faces me and his eyes widen at my sight. Dear, my wing almost slammed him.

‘You took me by surprise…What’s up?’ I wear a friendly smile. He doesn’t buy it.

‘Why are you up?’ He inquiries slowly.

’Insomnia. Why are you still up?′ I accuse.

‘...None Ya business.’ He is dead staring.

‘Right. Well, do you need anything?’

‘No…not yet.’

‘All right, well, I’m gonna -’ I point towards the direction I begin to lean towards.

I just want this conversation to end.

‘Are the sounds normal?’

‘Huh?’ I freeze, watching him falter.

‘The. Noise.’ His hand squeezes the other.

‘What kind?’

‘The drum inside of a skull kind.’

What? Wait…I need a second. Does he mean - ‘The Space Eldritch-ez?’

‘These migrate around Cosmos 2-1?’

‘Oh, kid.’ A genuine smile forms on my face. ‘We’re way past, like, in Cosmos 09-0.’

His face drops. ’...o-oh…’kay.′ He staggers, falling two steps behind.

Is he afraid? ‘Don’t worry.’

Our eyes meet properly then I continue: ‘They’re peaceful dumbbells, and frankly too lazy to notice a spacecraft or interact with it in any kind of capacity.’ My balance shifts from one leg to another. ‘So - yeah.’

’Merci.′ He sinks further back inside my room – inside the room, his tone sarcastic enough.

The door closes, separating us.

I feel a headache.

Well, that sure happened.