This is a work of fiction.

Names, characters, events, and places are imaginative and used fictitiously. Any similarities to actual events, businesses or people (living or dead) are purely coincidental.

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And on that night, five angels fell from the sky. They were hung from the bridge in crowned black gold jewelry. The sky poured red, it's haze darkening the skies. Crimson rain blessed the rivers as the angels' grace escaped cold finger tips.

They still had much life in them.

They had so many plans for their futures.

How unfortunate.

The angels – they fell from the sky… and hung beautifully from the bridge like a never-ending carousel.

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• ← • The Angel's Remorse • → •

《S1E00.1》

'Prologue'

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Mark 13:25 "And the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers that are in the heavens will be shaken."

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His face became ice cold as a slender figure loomed over him. While her emotions piled into him, his body lay in restless agony. Wake up! She licked her lips with delight - relishing in his strong aura. Strains of stringy blonde hair pooled to the ground as she twisted her neck to gaze upon his features. Her stretched hands longed to reach his face as life's breath still breathe through him - and with the gust of mixed emotions, his eyes were forced open. The water subsided.

Cold sweat.

She was gone. Clothes so filled with smut and sweat garnished his body in a room smelling foul of Sulphur and cheap perfume. His head shook with the rumbling north of him, his body too sore to properly move. His neck craned towards the distraction with anxiety lounged in his throat. Soreness. That was the second thing he felt.

"What the-" He started, trying to shift his weight onto his unwilling legs. But they failed – not once, but twice; his knees being too weak to handle the strain. Control wasn't his – as if stuck in a horrible daydream.

His name was Brick and his eyes scanned what little of the room it could manage - the darkness suffocating him in more ways than one. With a small cough, his gaze took left, then right, studying the unlit room. The sound of his internal tremors taunted him as he smelt the cryptically familiar sly mix of blood, sweat and sea water.

He wasn't supposed to be there.

The light which creaked through the ceiling dimmed synchronically with the return of the odd chill. The eerie feeling of being watched became stitched on his soul as fear paralyzed him. Shades of blue and gray made its way to his eyes with subtle tints of red and green to allure him. His memory failing him time after time. He remained tight-lipped as his eyes took its dear time to adjust; the resultant view nothing short of a catastrophe.

Amongst the debris of what appeared to be a hoarder's stash, he found a familiar face lying unconscious on the floor. Her expression showing mass discomfort as her torso seemed caught in between broken wood. His first instinct was to save himself, and probably go rush for help but seeing her in such agony had compelled him to aide her.

He stirred - a shot of pain surged through his arm as he struggled to remove the broken door frame from his body. His leg, a limp and mangled mess collapsed as he was brought back down to the floor with a large clank- his hands now bleeding from the impact with broken glass.

He couldn't see the shards in the dark setting, only a haze of red greeted him as liquid strained through his fingers. With doubled pain, he bit his lips and rolled into a ball- hissing until everything went numb. His hands leaked vitreous fluids with blissful ease and he squeezed until his whiten knuckles burned through the darkness.

The girl stirred. Green eyes – too bright for this darkness - shot open and closed in an instant; her migraine getting the best of her as she released a harsh groan. There were other too- not that he'd know. He was too wrapped up in himself to take things into consideration. In the haze of clutter and untampered darkness, the slender figure stood – mouth unstitched – with a lust for life. Her moans silent as she watched with hunger. Brick moved slow and careful and he dragged along the floor. His knees, still being far too weak to stand, had him attached to the ground.

His thoughts became grave.

What if I die here?

Will I die here?

Will she?

She lost her consciousness again and the hitch in her breathing became silent. It grew cold and the feeling of unease consumed him. Fear; a phenomenon he surely wasn't used to. His bleeding palms dug onto to floor tearing further the wound. The result staining the ground a vivid currant red.

"Shit!" With swallowed pain, he licked it, taking a second once over of his position. Air whooshed over him as the unnatural gust rustled through. The sound of shuffling objects flooded the air as the image of a bridge now clouded his mind.

We

All

Fall

Down!

The sky- he remembered how blue it was – and the peculiarity of red rain. He remembered the smell of sea water – and with that, dryness clenched his throat. He remembered it all – and he forgot it in an instant.

Buttercup!

He dragged himself towards her, exhaling when he reached without incident. She lay still amidst the rubble – the whole site broke him.

"Where-" am I? he pondered, stretching his body into seating. Her face was still warm. Her skin was still soft. Her chest still heaved. She was still alive!

A tear drop stained her cheeks as the boy smiled in relief. His body craned over hers as he guided her face to his lap. His hands raked through her hair, the smell of dust and formaldehyde filtered through the air. He paused to laugh - a hearty one filled with delirium and luster. He let the decibels increase- not caring who could hear him; not caring if anyone could see him.

He lost it. Insanity grappling his chest. His eyes were crazed… heavily dilated and paranoid – as was he. He laughed into tears, keeping the girl's head on his lap – vision blurred with mist. His senses were on alert and once more, anxiety weaved its ugly head.

He looked up.

Eyes widened at the ceiling – hollow eyes staring back at his. Long blond hair defied gravity, flooding the ceiling with stringy unpleasantries. The girl watched him.

Unmoving.

Unwavering.

And a wretched smile.

"The-" he rubbed his eyes, refusing to believe the truth, shaking away the ghastly thoughts his insanity had brought him.

He was going insane…

Dried blood touched his face a bit stinging his eye corners. He was unsure. This wasn't funny anymore. This wasn't logical anymore this was…

Cold.

Drowning.

Choking.

Falling.

He fell.

"- dream dammit! It's jus' a-" dream. His cheeks burned as too his palms. The reddened skin swelled on impact. He was losing it, hallucinating, fatigue, cold chills… it was all too real. He felt the sky fall and he felt the ground knock – he experienced everything, everything surreal. His chest heaved through the panic attack with his face buried in the girl's chest. He felt dirty. He felt released.

"Buttercup!" he cried, liquid streaming out his nose, "Wake up Buttercup!" His throat unusually sore with his lament. The circumference of it throbbed unnaturally, his head shaded with false memories.

Blue skies.

The bridge.

The angels were falling.

He was… the brave one. He wasn't a man of tears- he was a man of action. This… this wasn't Brick. This was a shell of the former, this was… weakness. He wasn't raised like this. He was raised to stand up to adversity. He was raised to be the best – to knock down all that came in his way. He was born to fight. He was… his hands quivered over the girl, brows stitched together in a trough.

"Butter.." he mourned, his back lounged over the girl. A blown off face stared back at him, haunting him, mocking him. His eyes looked up in horror, and just like before, the aberration disappeared in an instant.

Buttercup was rolled to the ground, her head being the first to hit the floor. Brick's leg curled away from her, distraught sweeping over his face with haste. He laughed, this time more maniacal than before. Eyes wide open in mock terror as he slowly accepted his truth.

"I'm fucking insane." He bemoaned, looking everywhere but her. "What the fuck is this?"

Laugh through the pain- that's what he told himself, holding his head in pity of the shit storm his life became. Karma? Reparations? "What the fuck is –"

Lime green eyes stared blankly at him, her scowl growing nastier by the second. He smiled uncharacteristically at her, crimson eyes boring wildly into hers. His face sored at his lip creases, the tight pull of the muscles spoiling his natural features.

"Bubbles?" Buttercup yelled, realization seeping through her veins. She forced her body up, stretching her head for a better view. "Bubble-"

"Shhh!" He warned, rolling his hair into a knotted bun. The smile still placed wickedly on his face.

She rolled her eyes with pursed lips, folding her arms with formality. "Don't tell me what to –"

"Shhh!" He interrupted, grimacing in the most fucking terrifying way.

She grunted at this, remaining as ignorant as ever. "You look like shit, Bellum"

"Do you remember anything?"

"I remember Bubbles." Her tone as nasty as ever.

His eyes couldn't directly reach her face- not yet. The image of her bleeding face burnt his memory. He wasn't thinking logically. He wasn't the Brick Bellum everyone was accustomed to. He had to… wake up.

"-Hear that?" She asked, green eyes filtering through the abyss.

He grunted, closing his eyes to focus his ears. Behind the resonant high pitch, a soft groan echoed. Their eyes tilted upwards towards the darkness, the soft groans medially continued through the squeaking.

The corpse-like structure shuffled.

Cobalt eyes squeezed shut with pain, and in his hand, nothing but a crinkled blood-stained cap.

"You're here because you wanted to stay."

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