It's Too Cold Outside for Angels to Fly
Title: It’s Too Cold Outside for Angels to Fly
Author: fireseop
Member: Yoseob
Rating: PG-13
Words: 768
Summary: Lately his faced seemed sinking and wasted, crumbling like pastries and they scream; the worst things in life come free to us.
Author’s Note: This is to say sorry. I know it’s only short and I am writing everyone a special present to show how sorry I am but as I’m leaving to Ireland tomorrow I don’t know if it’ll be finished so please bear with me. I’ll be back in about a weeks time and I promise to update with something! I might even update while I’m there. Plus having tsukibob with me playing Minecraft 24/7 may be the best thing ever! C: So anyways this is just a rip of story from 'The A Team' by Ed Sheeran who I’m recently in love with but with Yoseob as the main character. You guys say I torture him too much; it’s only because I love him! I will also try to reply to all my messages(I know I’m slow C:)
Warning: Mentions of Prostitution and Drugs
A pair of thick, dark eyelashes fluttered away the snowflakes and sleep that clung to his eyes making it hard to see. He brought his rough, shaking hand to rub the remains that didn’t want to leave. Running his tongue along his white-purple, chapped lips; hoping to remove the pain of them splitting, but it didn’t happen. Gently he touched the small cut that was now dripping with blood, turning his lips red; a great contrast to the snow laying softly on the ground and his own face that was almost as pale as the frozen substance. He sat up admiring the setting sun. A bunch of tree’s ripped from their leaves just like he was ripped from society, life and a home cast a shadow over the park bench that he stood up from. His lungs burning as he dabbed his tongue to the roof of his mouth and swallowing; hoping to get rid of the sour taste in his mouth as he prepared his mind for the long night ahead of him. With no rent to pay anymore he went in search old men who need a little cheering up, maybe even an ass to pound.
Sighing, he watched his warm breath against the cold air, picked up his sleeping bag and draped it over his shoulder, and started walking off into town. People muttered about him as he passed quietly; gossip. He hated gossip; it had placed him into the class A Team, the people stuck in daydreams. Of course this was him, it had gone wrong just after he graduated high school, but really, what could he do to get out of the deadly cycle? He couldn’t just ‘Get a job’ like people said. Things aren’t that simple, it’s not the way the world works for homeless people. The worst things in life come free to them. However, the best things in life do not. Every day you could see his face wasting away, sinking and crumbling. He was going mad, wanting some money for a gram or two; wanting to intoxicate himself with it rather than sell love to another man. It’s mid-winter; too cold for an angel like him to fly away, to die covered in white as he hopes for a better life.
Midnight: He sat alone, on the street watching people walk buy; holding out a yoghurt pot he had found from a nearby trash can, his sleeping bag being used as a blanket as he huddled closer to the wall, freezing cold. A raincoat hood covering his greasy, messy blonde hair that was overgrown and brushed away from his deep, sorrow-filled, dark, brown eyes. His ripped gloves crashing to his eyes as he wiped away the streaming tears, dabbing them, doing anything he could to stop them as he cried silently not wanting to draw attention or sympathy from the people around him. Loose change and bank notes; enough for a day or two in a motel room, enough time to make himself look presentable and find a customer. He looked at himself in the mirror; scruffy, bleach-blonde hair, with obvious dark roots showing through. Dark bags under his eyes but otherwise a perfect, cute face; definitely that of an angels. He brushed his hair back with his hands as he tried to get rid of his dark circles with some concealer he had begged a girl to borrow. His hair had dried funny from his shower; sticking up slightly but it added to his cute look, he didn’t mind as long as it sold.
The same evening he found a man who needed him. Pulling off his raincoat, sleeping bag long forgotten as he stepped into the car that had pulled up beside him, driving to the stranger’s house and sleeping with him. Giving him his money’s worth as again; his tears fell. Rolling over from the soft bed he got up and changed into the same old clothes, turning back into the same old homeless boy; sleeping around for drugs. He brought them, just like that; the money from the night gone as he rushed back to the motel and into the bathroom, locking the door as his dreams became reality. A little too much but it freed him from this hell. His life was never one to prove that happy endings happen; he didn’t get better or find a loved one to take him in. He died and nobody noticed. Sounds like a tragedy, but for him it was a blessing. The angel flew away just as spring was around the corner; melting the snow away.
A/N: ALSO MELTING HIS FACE. (Funny comment of the day - How I can be funny after such a depressing fic I don’t know, I just hope it makes you laugh!)