The Grass is Much Greener (On the Other Side)
Title: The Grass is Much Greener (on the Other Side)
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: some religious undertones, mentions of sex, and suicide
Summary: New Year’s Eve is a night for new promises.
Notes: Written for the January week 3 mini contest at brigits_flame. This one was a little tricky-it’s very easy to end up playing into the clichés. I admit to getting a little predictable at times, but I tried to stay away from the standard cliché. Constructive criticism and just plain ol’ feedback is lovely and always appreciated! Enjoy!
…
The lights from the city gave the night sky a yellowish tinge, the sounds of the night echoing off the skyscrapers and swirling up into the clouds. Ruiel shivered in the anticipation that crackled through the air, settling himself on his usual perch, the edge of the roof of the New York Times building, folding his wings out of sight and arching his back to adjust to the difference in balance.
A thousand feet below, a throng of people, no bigger than ants, hustled in close to welcome in the new year. The distinctive scents of alcohol, sweat and pheromones rose up in waves, and Ruiel breathed them in, savoring the incredible humanness of the smells.
“Not drinking tonight, Rui?”
Ruiel glanced up in time to see Mariel take a casual seat beside him. “Not yet,” he said, inching over to give the other angel more room. “Maybe later. Night’s young, after all.”
Mariel made a sound of agreement, folding his wings and stretching up, rolling his shoulders back and then crossing one leg over the other, propping his chin on his hand and eyeing Ruiel with an intent thoughtfulness that grew unnerving after only a second or two. Ruiel glared at him, and Mariel flashed a quick grin and straightened up again. “I’ll never understand why you torture yourself like this, Rui.”
“Who’s torturing?” Rui leaned over to look over the edge of the building. “I like it up here. You can see everything, hear everything, smell everything-everything’s so alive.”
“Except you.”
“Except me.” A light breeze ruffled their hair and wings and Ruiel closed his eyes, breathing in the air, leaning into the wind like he would a caress. “It makes me feel alive, though,” he said, opening his eyes again and turning to meet Mariel’s inquisitive eyes. The deepness of the gaze made him shiver, and he changed the subject. “What about you? What’s your excuse?”
Mariel cocked an eyebrow. “At this point? It’s to keep you from throwing yourself off in an attempt to join the festivities.” Ruiel snorted and Mariel winked. “Hey, J. Lo’s looking pretty hot in that…what the hell is that, anyway?”
Ruiel craned his neck, taking advantage of his enhanced vision to spot out the figure in question. “I think it’s a full-body leotard. With…rhinestones?”
“Oh. Okay. Rhinestones. Of course.” Mariel shook his head. “I can absolutely see why you waste four hours of your afterlife every year watching this crap.”
“If you haven’t gotten it by now, you never will.” Ruiel surveyed the crowd, smiling more to himself than to Mariel. “There’s so much hope down there. So much excitement.”
The skepticism in Mariel’s voice was audible and bitter. “And this time tomorrow, they’ll all have realized that nothing’s changed. Their boyfriends are still cheating on them, they’re still fat, they still have the same crap job-it’s an overhyped ceremony that just makes everyone think that the new year’s going to bring some kind of miracle, like resetting the calendar will make some huge difference. It’s depressing, if you ask me.”
“No one did.”
Mariel said nothing and Ruiel took advantage of the quiet to lean forward again, looking down at the crowd. The scent of excitement was heightening and he smiled, closing his eyes. The cold air stung his cheeks and he pressed his hands against his face, knowing he was flushed and his ears and nose were turning pink-just the way they had before he’d died. If he were to fly down and bury himself in the crowd, he could pass for a normal person. Surely no one would notice the faint glow around his blond hair, the ethereal hint to his skin-and if they did, they wouldn’t remember, caught in the anticipation of the night.
A hand curled around his arm, Mariel’s fingers warm and slender even through his gloves. “They might remember,” he said quietly. “You never know, and we can’t risk it. There’s a reason we don’t walk among them, unless we’re told to.”
Ruiel nodded, saying nothing, and Mariel squeezed his arm. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“They’re making their resolutions,” Ruiel said, changing the subject. “That’s what they do, in the last few minutes before the ball drops. They make resolutions.”
“I know.” Mariel shifted closer to him. “You’re freezing, Ruiel.”
“It’s January.” He moved over anyway, leaning his head on Mariel’s shoulder as he gazed down. “There,” he said, pointing. “That woman, in the pink parka? She’s planning to leave her boyfriend.”
Mariel sighed. “You shouldn’t do this to yourself.”
“I like it.” Ruiel pointed again. “And him-he’s going to come out to his family. He’s been trying for three years, and this year he’s going to do it.”
“Rui.”
Ruiel ignored him. “That girl, there, with the group-she’s going to finally lose the last fifteen pounds of baby weight. She had twins. And then she’s going to go back to school, and finish her degree.”
The hand on his arm shifted, moving up to curl around the back of his neck. Mariel’s fingers drifted through the hair at the nape of his neck and Ruiel closed his eyes for a moment, just briefly leaning into the touch. And then he opened his eyes, looking down again. “That man’s going to leave his wife,” he whispered. “They have three kids. She’s pregnant. He doesn’t know.”
“Ruiel…”
“That girl is going to finally stand up to the bullies at her school. She’s going to-”
“Rui-”
He kept talking. “She’s going to find her voice, and not be a doormat anymore; she’s going to-”
“Ruiel, stop it!”
The sound rang out, sharp and stinging, and it took Ruiel a moment to register the slap. He raised a shaking hand to his cheek. “You hit me,” he said, almost awed.
“Because you can’t do this to yourself, Ruiel!” The light, easy humor was gone from Mariel’s face, replaced with anger and frustration and pain. There were tears in his eyes, trembling at the corners, refusing to fall. “Because you know what’s going to happen to them. You’ve already seen it.” He got to his feet, jerking Ruiel with him. “The girl in the pink parka? She’s not going to leave her boyfriend. He’s going to keep hitting her, and eventually he’s going to kill her. That guy’s going to come out to his parents, and they’re going to disown him. He’s going to kill himself two months later.”
“Stop,” Ruiel whispered, trying to pull away.
Mariel held him fast. “The girl with the group is going to stop eating, and then she’s going to eat too much. In five months, she’s going to be diagnosed with bulimia and sent to a rehab clinic, and she’s going to lose custody of her kids. The guy with the family leaves his wife for his secretary, misses his kids’ entire lives, becomes an alcoholic, and dies of liver failure in ten years. And that girl, who’s going to stand up to the bullies-”
“Mariel, please-”
“Two weeks from now, she’s going walk into her school with a gun. She’s going to kill thirty-seven people, and then she’s going to kill herself.” Mariel let go of him, sharply, and Ruiel dropped to his knees on the roof, feeling the sting in his knees overwhelm the sting in his cheek, still lingering from the earlier slap. “Is that what you wanted to hear? You wanted to hear about people keeping their New Years’ Resolutions?”
Ruiel closed his eyes, hunching his shoulders. He could hear them in his head, every vow, every personal promise, and he could see them coming true, the horrible realizations. This was his gift. This was his curse.
“Why do you come up here, Ruiel?” Mariel’s voice had fallen to a broken whisper. Ruiel looked up as Mariel knelt beside him, taking both his hands. “Every year, you torture yourself with this. And then you come home, and you’re as broken as you were the night you died. I come with you because I’m trying to see-I’m trying to see what it is that moves you. Why you do this. But I don’t understand it. I can’t understand it.”
“Because.” Ruiel looked down at the crowd, at the thousands of bright, eager faces chanting a countdown as they looked up at the tower flagpole. “Because tonight, they’re so alive. All of them-they’re so alive. You can breathe it in. People are more alive tonight, more in love, more hopeful, than any other night of the year. And they have so many dreams, they make so many promises-they don’t think about how they’ll go wrong, how they’ll get so horribly twisted. Tonight-tonight, they’re here.” He looked back at Mariel. “Do you understand?”
A thousand feet beneath them, a crowd chanted in unison. Ten, nine, eight.
“I’m trying,” Mariel whispered. “God knows, Ruiel, I’m trying.”
Seven. Six, five.
“What was it?” Mariel asked. “The resolution that you didn’t keep. That’s all I can think of. That you made a promise, a resolution, and you didn’t keep it. Or you didn’t get to.”
Four.
“No,” Ruiel said. “That’s not it.”
Three.
Standing on the edge of this roof, years ago, young and scared and mortal. Sad, broken, overwhelmed. The wind blowing his hair back, turning his ears and cheeks and nose pink, their last flush of color before the impact of the asphalt broke them beyond recognition.
Two.
“It wasn’t a resolution I broke.”
One-
“It was the one I kept.”
The ball dropped.