Epilogue

High above in the clouds of the sky, a delicate and small bird flutters his wings before stilling them and descending upon the city. His feathers flap and hiss as a cool breeze pushes between them, carrying him down and down to the trees below. His beady black eyes scan the open and wide fields below, taking note to all the polished grey stones that are dotted evenly about the acre.

He flaps his wings and flutters down to the tall branches of a tree near a drab brick building with a solid red roof and multiple stained glass windows. There is no sun, but it's bright enough to see inside that there is hardly anyone in sight. Outside, where the wind is cold with the touch of the coming winter, there are two men standing beneath a massive willow tree.

One is dressed in black from head to toe, something he hasn't done in years, with black painted nails and his hair neatly arranged around his face. Eye liner is smudged thick around his ocean blue eyes with the graces of charcoal shadow on the lids, sweeping soft and light to the edges and beneath his eyebrows. His eyes are downcast under the grey New Orleans sky, the atmosphere and his face expressing his heart better than his sleeve does. Beside him, the man who was once his selected clutches to his arm, sorrowful in his expression as rests the side of his temple against the taller man's shoulder.

There are no others around them. The land is still as those beneath it and the taller of the men rests his head atop the shorter man's, letting his eyes slip shut. A chill races down his neck, and he casts it off as the wind. He knows better though. It's cold for November, but it's not the breeze that makes him quiver. It's his own broken heart.

Adam sighs softly, opening his eyes slowly to gaze down upon the plot of land in front of him. The dirt has finally settled and moss and grass are growing over it slowly, the stone set into place at the head. Granite grey and solid with smoothed edges and gentle engraving. A simple name that confused the caretaker and priest originally, saying that such a name had already been etched into such stone. But Adam had paid them well enough and the matter was taken care of. And now it's been six months since the event.

Six months. It could not have been so. Six months since he, an angel then and clad in white with wings, accompanied his friend back to heaven to tear down a traitor. A traitor who had turned his friend blind with rage and vengeance, wreaking it upon the innocent. Six months and now he's here with Drake, staring down at a lonely grave beneath a willow tree.

"Would you like a moment?" Drake asks him and Adam nods slowly. The artist nods once and stands on his tiptoes, pressing a warm and sweet kiss to Adam's cheek. He smiles softly at Drake before watching him go down the cemetery path to their car. He lets out a heavy breath and turns his attention back to the ground before him, his heart clenching.

He doesn't remember much of what happened after the Fallen Angel had shoved him away, sending him tumbling down the tower of heaven. He remembers losing his wings and falling, but other than that there's nothing. Nothing but slipping under and waking up in the apartment, lying over Thomas…

His throat closes up and Adam cups a palm over his mouth. He remembers shaking Thomas over and over, trying to get his friend to wake. But the two-toned male had not. His eyes were closed, his skin cold. Upon inspection, he discovered that Thomas' neck and spine were shattered. And, with his hands pressed to Thomas' back, he was graced with a vision of the male wrapping himself around Adam, bearing the weight and pressure of the fall against the floor of heaven.

"Tommy…" Adam moans softly. It's been six months and every time he comes back to this place it feels like Thomas has just been buried. Laid low beneath the ground in Adam's white denim jacket, the stone initial from Adam's halo fastened onto a leather cord and tied loosely around Thomas' neck. It's been six months and his heart is still breaking every day. "You stupid fool…"

Adam drops down to his knees, disregarding that he's going to regret getting frosted mud on his jeans later, and shakes with sobs. Six months he's been haunted with dreams of watching from above as Thomas wrapped his arms around his body, whispering into his ear before crashing down into the floor. Six months Drake has tried to comfort him. And, in some fashions, he has. But there are some things that Drake cannot heal in Adam.

"Stupid, stupid fool… Just because I told you I would never leave did not mean that you could…" Adam mumbles softly, tears of black from his makeup streaking down his face. His hands are resting against his thighs, trembling in the agony that has not left him since he woke up above Thomas' lifeless body.

Adam stays there, crying and kneeling over Thomas' grave for a long time, tears rolling down his face and dripping onto his clothes. The reawakening back into a mortal life had been confusing and traumatizing enough. The diluted senses and lack of power had made him queasy, but gazing upon his friend, cold with death, had been the worst of all. He remembers spending weeks locked up in Thomas' room until the smell of his friend had faded and been replaced with his own pain.

Clenching his jaw, Adam drops his head low and gasps for a quiet breath. By no means was he ever romantically interested in Thomas, but the two-toned angel had become a steadfast and loyal friend. He loved Thomas well enough to hurt.

Shaking and crying until the sobs ring free and the shudders stop, Adam stares at Thomas' gravestone. His name is written across the top two lines, a given birth date and his death date scrawled below. The stone reads that Thomas was twenty-nine. Just twenty-nine and already gone and passed. Below that reads 'beloved angel and friend'. He can almost hear Thomas' arguments about how he wasn't a beloved angel. A smile toys at Adam's lips at the idea.

"I love you, Tommy," Adam whispers softly to the stone. Reaching into his pocket, his fingers curl around a cold object before he pulls it out. Chain links clink and shimmer in the overcast light. Small, grayed initials weigh heavily in his palm, fourteen in total. Where his initial was meant to have gone had Thomas ever actually killed him, there is another. An initial slightly larger from the rest, smoother in texture and more elegant in its script, painted white by Adam's delicate hand: tee.

Clasping the bracelet to his wrist, Adam turns it so that Thomas' initial rests against the inside of his wrist, right over his pulse. Climbing to his feet, he presses his fingertips to his lips, blowing a soft kiss to the grave as he always does when he visits. A smile and a tear form as he turns away, shoving his hands into his pockets. He walks down the long path, his boots soft against the stone as he comes to the car's side where Drake is waiting.

"You okay?" The brunette asks him and Adam nods, leaving an open-mouthed kiss to Drake's forehead.

"Yeah. I'm gonna be alright."

"Still missing him…" It's not a question. It's a fact, and Adam hums in response. "You know… maybe he's not gone. Maybe he's back where he belongs…" Drake murmurs and Adam takes a moment to ponder his young lover's words before turning his attention back up the cemetery walk to the willow tree. For a moment he thinks he sees a soft flash and beautiful brown eyes beneath a sweep of blond fringe and he smiles.

"Maybe…"