Fall From Grace
It is said that the worst place for an avian is the ground. The ground is where the humans can chain you down and take from you the freedom your wings bring. The ground is as good as a death sentence. The ground was fast approaching for Ace.
It had been such a great day before he decided it was a great idea to take to the sky so he could stretch his wings. It was an idea planted into his head by both his brother and by Soup. God, he hoped Soup wasn’t waiting for him on the roof like he usually did, he didn’t want him to see his fall. He was already in a lot of pain with the wind ripping through his feathers, having the added weight of his husband’s horror was not something he needed.
His gaze wandered over to the mass of black feathers that was his right wing, wishing desperately for it to be able to open. The wind screamed around him, daggers of ice nicking his skin, setting his nerves ablaze.
He had to flip. Turn so the wind would catch his feathers, let him glide. He had to try. And try he did.
A cry fell from his lips, carried off by the current, but he willed himself to tuck his wings in and use the upwards drafts to flip him so he could see his impending death. It felt worse seeing how close he was to his deathbed, having fallen from so high, nearly touching the sky when iron ripped through his wings. He can still remember the feeling of the bullets ripping through his shoulder and feathers. The searing pain as his ascent was halted and turned to his descent.
He couldn’t focus on that, despite wanting to, and had to focus on opening his wings so he could glide to safety. Get to the ground. Be safe for Soup. Don’t die.
He willed them open, the pain bearing down on him and washing his vision over in white for a moment. It was hard to hear anything with the blood and wind rushing through his ears. It was like static. Until his name broke through the white noise.
“Ace!”
He opened his eyes – when had he closed them – and looked over to see the one man he did not wish to see; Soup. His concentration faltered. He plummeted. Down, down, down he went, until a railing caught him.
The first impact should have killed him, but his earlier stop and his durability made it so he could feel his ribs breaking instead. The metal creaked and groaned under his sudden weight before he fell away into another small descent. He didn’t even have the strength to try and save himself as he collided with the next railing. He could hear the crunch of something paired with the groan and snap of metal as he plummeted to the concrete below.
He landed on his side, knocking the wind out of him, and knocking him out for a split second as his mind tried to register what happened. He wasn’t dead, but he was close to it, it was hard to breathe.
It felt as if he couldn’t pull in enough air, no matter what he did, and his ears rang with the blood rushing through him. Why couldn’t he breathe? He pushed himself to look down and found his answer staring at him in the form of a rusted railing piece stuck through his sternum.
A whimper fell from his lips, wet with blood bubbling up in his throat which in turn forced a cough up. He convulsed and sputtered, spilling blood from his injuries and his mouth as pain finally ripped through him.
“ACE!” He heard his name being screamed followed by rapid footfalls. He knew that voice, he desperately wished he could comfort him, get rid of the terror he could hear in Soup’s voice. He couldn’t though, too much pain was coursing through him, threatening to shut his entire body down and send him to sleep.
“Ace, Ace pleasepleaseplease nononono,” he could hear Soup practically sobbing as he rushed over next to him. He couldn’t do anything but weakly reach out for him, even if the movement made his chest protest. “I’m here! I’m here! Don’t leave me-”
Ace felt his hand clasped between both of Soup’s and he finally did his best to look up at the other and he almost wished he hadn’t. He looked wrecked with messy hair, teary eyes and a face that was simultaneously red and pale at the same time. God, he looked terrified, and Ace knew it was all his fault; above all he knew he couldn’t help. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t comfort him or tell him it’d be okay, because he knew it wasn’t going to be.
He lightly squeezed Soup’s hand, pulling his attention from the bar in his chest to his face. Whatever he saw though Ace was certain it wasn’t good because of how the tears fell faster.
“Ace,” Soup sobs pulling his hands from Ace’s and moving to bring his upper torso up into his lap, “don’t...leave me...please. It-it's not...fair.”
The movement is enough to put Ace into another spasm fit making him cough and spit out more blood. A red pool is already forming below him from where the bar is going through his back, giving blood an easy out through the twisted nature of the old railing. He could feel his erratic heartbeat in his fingers as he reached out again to try and touch Soup, but it was hard to lift his arm.
He felt weak. He felt tired.
“No nono no, don’t close your eyes!” He could hear Soup cry above him. Was he closing his eyes? He didn’t notice. All he could feel was how his heart raced in his chest, it was scary. Everything was scary.
He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t calm his heart, or heal past the metal embedded in him. He felt cold and yet he could feel sweat rolling down his face, or maybe those were tears, he couldn’t tell. It was getting hard to focus. He forced himself to look up at Soup and noticed he was saying something, maybe he had been talking the entire time. It was hard to make out the words through the ringing in his ears.
“Ple..ase...I love..you...don’t- don’t leave me,” Soup sobbed over him, pressing a wet kiss to his head causing Ace to whimper again in pain and grief.
“S...So..up,” He finally mustered out through the pain and his erratic breathing, he could barely get air into his lungs at this point, but he didn’t care, “sh..hhh shh.... do..dun’cry,” he’d slur out, his vision hazing around the edges now.
“Nonono shhh don’t talk,” Soup whispers quickly stroking Ace’s cheek with his shaking hand, trying to not scream, “conserve strength...you’ll heal...you always heal.”
If this was any normal injury he’d heal, but with the bar still going through him, and the height of the fall there was no way he was going to come back from this. Everything had its limits, and this was his. He hated that it was, but he couldn’t lie to himself, not when he could feel himself slipping.
He shook his head, “Mmn’I...l.. Lo..ve... you,” he whispers wettly through the blood that was pooling in his throat choking him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to talk past that point, all he could do was listen. Listen to the wrecked sobbing of his lover above him, to his begs and pleads for him to stop closing his eyes.
Then there was nothing. No choked breaths, no erratic heartbeat, no pain.
Nothing.