Chapter Text
Water dripped repeatedly from a faucet, hitting the broken porcelain basin of the bathroom sink. Graffiti of penises, names, and proclamations of hatred towards the school system covered the stalls. Brooke and Trevor stood in the girl’s bathroom, holding a box of matches and staring into the trash can that was now stuffed to the brim with paper towels.
“You ready, Trev?” Brooke asked as she slid the box open.
“Hell yeah,” Trevor said, bouncing on his heels, clapping his hands once. “Let’s burn this bitch!”
“No, I’m afraid you won’t.” Dread gripped the pair and they whipped around to see Grace Chasity standing there, as smug as ever.
“Ugh,” they groaned as Grace handed over a somehow already written detention slip to Trevor. He snapped it out of her hand and Brooke dropped the match book into Grace’s grip. Brooke expected to receive her own red slip and was pleasantly surprised when she didn’t get one.
She raised an eyebrow at her. “What? No detention for me?”
Grace shrugged. “I’m in a good mood, unless you want detention?”
Brooke shook her hand urgently. “No, I’m good.” She quickly sped out of the room, shouting back at Trevor. “Enjoy explaining this to your parents, Trev!”
Trevor followed her out, grumbling. “Fucking Chastity,” he muttered under his breath. Grace pretended she didn’t hear him. She stepped forward, shoving the matches into her pocket. Handy, she thought. They’ve already got the kindling ready for her.
She could feel a strange heat hover near her shoulder, burning her up. “Make sure to run as soon as the fire starts,” an unseen voice said. “It won’t hurt you but that is exactly what will raise eyebrows.” Grace nodded and she felt a question float like a cloud to the top of her thoughts.
“Are you actually an Angel?” she asked, feeling it too strong to ignore. She’s not sure what she wants the answer to be. The voice paused for a moment.
“I’m not the classic angel you think of but, in a word, yes.” That sentence made Grace feel at least a little bit better. She took a deep breath and threw her backpack on the ground. Grace shot to her knees, rummaging inside. Her hands almost drifted to the book on instinct, finding it in a matter of seconds. She tore it out dramatically and flipped it open.
Grace read the page aloud, letting the strange words find their home on her tongue. A circle of flames surrounded her, burning atop the gross tile of the bathroom floor. The orange light shifted to purple, washing the off-white walls in violet. Slowly, the flames grew larger and larger, spewing dark smoke into the air. They crackled and roared in Grace’s ears, she could barely hear the fire alarms above the inferno around her.
The flames latched onto the cracked tiles, burning them up as if they were tissue paper, leaving streaks of black on the stone. It soon started spreading throughout the bathroom and Grace figured now was a good time to go. She shot out of the room, flames not leaving a scratch on her, not daring to. Soon enough, she was outside with the confused students and panicking teachers. No one seemed to notice she was strangely absent from class, thankfully.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, gasping for air, and her heart raced in her chest, pumping at a thousand miles per hour. Black smoke poured from the roof, floating off into the sky far above. A few flames were visible through the windows, flickering faintly and soon growing brighter, bursting through the glass with crashes. A few students nearby were pulling out their phones to either record the fire or to call their families.
Grace couldn’t stop the feeling surging in her chest. The way people scattered in fear from something she barely put any effort into. She was so strong and no one could stop her. Her fingers twitched in excitement.
“Holy shit!” A voice next to her exclaimed. Grace turned around to see Ruth standing there, watching the fire turn the building to ash in awe. Grace just looked at her gaping jaw and fear-filled eyes for a while, relishing in how much terror she caused. “Why is it ourple?” she eventually asked once her fear died down enough.
“What?” Grace questioned. Ruth groaned exaggeratedly and rolled her eyes.
“Ugh, get online more,” she whined. Grace shrugged her off and went back to watching the fire. Same as the Starlight, by the time the fire department arrived, there was barely any building left to claim. It was almost impressive how fast it crumbled, turning black and falling apart in barely any time at all.
Paul, who was standing not far from her shoulder, kept his attention not on Grace but everything around her, making sure nothing snuck up on him. The fog Holloway put up really made his job harder, having to physically look at things instead of just sensing them; he’ll have to ask her to get rid of it. As he searched around, his eyes landed on the very celestial being he was trying to avoid.
Paul could see Wilbur’s wings move past the crowd, traveling on the same higher plane Paul was. Paul crossed his arms with a huff and pointedly turned away from them.
“Otho,” they said, coming to a stop a few feet from him. Paul pretended he didn’t hear them. “Otho,” they repeated, now sounding mildly exasperated. He sighed exaggeratedly.
“Paul.” Paul peeked over his shoulder to see a 20 year younger Wilbur. Their hair was still slicked back but now more so from grease, as though they hadn’t washed themself in a week. He seemed upset about something, Paul had a very good guess as to what.
Paul fully turned to face him. “You’re younger,” he stated. Wilbur shoved his hands into the pockets of their jacket and grumbled with a shrug.
“Figured if you two were blendin’ in, I’d give it a shot.” They proceeded to take a deep breath.
“I’m… sor…” The word got caught in their throat, their body seeming to resist what he wanted to, what he needed to say. He coughed and righted his shoulders. Paul nodded along, enticing them to continue. “Nope, can’t say it.”
Paul groaned from deep in his chest, a sound akin to thunder rumbling. “Wilbur, do you know why I got pissed at you?”
“Cause I didn’t wanna do your stupid pretendin’ to be human shit,” they answered simply.
With a sigh, Paul walked forward and placed a hand on Wilbur’s shoulder. “It’s what that represented, Wilbur. I wanted to do something that made me happy and I was peeved that you ruined it and it’s very frustrating that I have to explain this to you.” Anger sneaked into his voice at the end of his sentence.
Wilbur bit their tongue before grabbing Paul and tossing him to the side. Paul stumbled back, a dumbfounded expression on his face. “Wh-what’re you doing?”
They didn’t answer his question and walked to the spot where Paul was standing a moment ago. “You like pretendin’ and ya can’t do that while keepin’ an eye on the prophet so… I’ll do it for ya.” They kept their face forward, pointedly not looking at Paul. “Watchin’ the prophet, that is and I know our Lord won’t mind so long as you leave Him alone.” He quickly forced a cough. “So, you go and do whatever dumb shit ya like doin’.”
It wasn’t a perfect apology, Paul knows that, but for Wilbur, this was the equivalent of falling to their knees and begging while sobbing, choosing to do something he really didn’t want to in order to give Paul a chance to do something he does. As far as Paul was concerned, this was the best apology they’ve ever given.
A faint echo of a grin appeared on Paul’s face. “Thanks, Wilbur.” He turned on his heel, spread his wings, and flew off with a loud flap. A strange feeling faintly sparked in Wilbur’s mind but they decided to fully ignore it and instead focus on Grace. He noticed that she had started walking off and quickly followed.
The gathering of students outside had started moving from the school. Grace’s eyes were still glued to the remains of her highschool, even though she and her classmates were currently being herded far away to go wait for their families to pick them up. She should feel bad, she knows she does but she really doesn’t. A small giggle shook Grace’s shoulders and she didn’t care if anyone noticed. Luckily, the only person who did was Richie, who had met up with her in all the chaos.
He giggled too and playfully slapped her arm. “Two down, three to go,” he muttered into her ear excitedly, barely audible above the cacophony around them. A small snort of air escaped Grace’s nose.
“How would you feel about going out tomorrow and… making it none to go?” she asked. Richie’s face fell a little.
“That quip wasn’t that good but I appreciate the effort,” he stated, much to Grace’s disgruntlement. The two continued walking with the crowd, blending in as if they were completely normal.