His Advocate

Chapter 8

Third POV

The next two weeks had passed with agonizing slowness. 

Gabriel came home every other day with fresh bruises over top of his old ones. Apparently, that girl had told the entire school about his little secret and now it wasn't just Arthur that was after him. Everyone started looking at him as though he had leprosy, even the teachers treated him differently. He would find writing scribbled on his locker telling him to kill himself, calling him horrible names. 

He sat at the top of the stairs. His eyes closed and his face buried in his hands. The newest bruise on his side made it hard to breathe. 

But there was a silver lining, he had Azrael to help distract him from the pain. Gabriel felt so  grateful to have him. Within the short time they've known one anther, a bond had already tightened around them. He still didn't ask how he was injured, feeling the time wasn't  quite right yet. But he was free to ask about anything else. Together they thrived. Testing the thrill of discovery. Exploring each other's likes and dislikes. 

Gabriel found out the hard way that Azrael should never be allowed to cook without supervision.

How does one manage to burn water?

At the end of the day, they both had a fit of laughter over it.

But the most wonderful thing was that in the safety of his home, in their own little world, they were free to be themselves. There was no one to judge or tell them that they were wrong to be the way that they were. It was just an unusual and strange, yet beautiful sort of companionship. 

And that was all that truly mattered to them.      

Gabriel POV

I hate this. 

I hate feeling so weak and tired all the time. Just three more weeks until graduation. Then I never have to go back. I just have to survive until then. And they're giving us a four day weekend so we can rest from finals. 

My thoughts pulled me deeper into myself. But I was broken out of it by the rhythmic sound of heavy foot steps ascending the stairs. I pulled my hands away to see Azrael kneeling on the step below me, so that his eyes were level with mine. Only then did I realize I had been crying. I bit my lip as I frantically tried to wipe my tears with the sleeve of my over-sized, knitted sweater. I was so embarrassed. He sat still and watched me with calm silence. I could feel his eyes on me.

"Ah, please don't look at me like that." I mumbled. My cheeks flushed.

He caught my hand and held it close to his chest. I sucked in a short breath and turned away from his gaze. I felt him lean in a bit, then the warm sensation of his finger tips combing through my hair and tucking a lock behind my ear; his hand resting lightly on my cheek. I melted into his gesture. In some way, I felt like I was monopolizing his attention towards me. But at the same time, I just wanted to be greedy.

There's no one else, anyways.

My eyes closed and I hummed quietly in response to his touch. His thumb began to gently stroke the top of my hand. I felt the rumble in his chest as he spoke, enjoying the shiver that shocked through my palm and rippled down my spine. 

"Why are you crying?" Cooed his deep voice. 

My toes curled in delight. I always loved his voice. It was deep but velvety and had a bit of a soft echo. He used his words sparingly, but I ended up being completely spellbound to the beautiful sound. 

"Because it hurts." I answered. 

"Where are you hurt?" He held my shoulder, scanning me over.

Tears started to well up in my eyes  again. I let out a shaky breath and sniffled. I felt his grasp carefully tighten.