Chapter Text
From dust we came, to dust we shall return
First, Neil felt the heat; then the sharp, crushing pain in his arms, chest, and face. His skin felt like it was being eaten away, dug in. The places where his hands touched the window frame heated up quickly, making everything unbearable. He took off his shirt and shoes so they wouldn’t melt and stick to his skin, but still, the pain was excruciating.
The flames were everywhere, but Neil didn’t just feel the heat. There was something deeper, something burning his soul.
He could feel the scars reopening, the smell of burning flesh mixing with blood. His breath was short. He knew he wouldn’t make it out of this. He screamed and screamed and screamed, until the flames consumed his nerves and the pain could no longer be felt. Still, he felt his flesh separating from his bone, his tendons burning. He fell to the floor covered in flames, and didn’t get up. Darkness enveloped him, but there was no comfort. He wanted to scream, but he had no voice.
The stained glass window above him shattered. The air around him was filled with light and sound. A hollow, wonderful murmur. A blinding brightness. The fire was gone; or perhaps his eyes were gone.
And so he was dead.
How else could he explain the sudden peace that had come over him?
He had never been afraid of death. He had known he would die, someday, and he had known it would be one of the easiest things he would ever do in his life; simply let his heart stop. He knew he would be at peace.
What scared him was the way his death would come. He was afraid of feeling too much pain, afraid of having wasted years of his life running away only to be caught in the end. He was afraid of dying full of regrets. He was afraid of dying alone in some alley, never to be known or loved by anyone.
But he supposed that, now, his death was just. It was just that he should meet the same end as his mother. Just as well, he was about to join her.
The feeling of his mouth returned, as did his vision. The intensity of the sensation was enough to make him gasp. He hadn’t realized how much he could pick up with his senses until he’d lost them and had them back.
He could feel his muscles and skin rebuilding themselves, his sense of touch returning. The ground beneath him wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t blindingly hot either. He moved his fingertips slightly, and felt the earth. Someone had set him outside.
His lungs expanded and flexed in the clean, crisp air; the smell of smoke could be smelled, but from a distance. Neil looked for Andrew, but he couldn’t see him; he could see only shapes moving toward his body, like a bunch of bright feathers. They were touching his skin in the places where he’d been completely burned, somehow repairing the skin until only patches remained.
Then some of the silver light turned golden and began to change shape. A vibration and a glow shook the ground. It was a light so glorious it could have outshone the sun. The chilling glow felt like a deep massage, reaching deep into Neil’s bones. And as the light condensed, spreading a comforting warmth, it adjusted itself into the shape Neil recognized and loved.
Andrew stood in front of him, dressed only in white linen pants. He took a deep, very slow breath, his wings beginning to unfurl. They gradually emerged, starting at the base of his shoulders, two white buds extending from his back, growing taller and wider, thicker as they stretched back, up, and out.
Neil stared at the curved tips, wanting to feel them with his own hands. The wings. He remembered the wings. The soft, almost silky feel of them, sliding between his fingers. It was such an old sensation, yet so new at the same time. He and Andrew, running through the grass, laughing at something Neil couldn’t understand. The memories were fragmented, pieces of a dream he never wanted to wake up from. But now, they were here, insisting on being remembered.
He looked into Andrew’s eyes. He was crying. Andrew lifted Neil into his arms, and his wings wrapped around him, hiding him from the rest of the world. Neil hugged him back, with all the strength he had, and let Andrew’s tears wet his shoulder and bare neck. Andrew's body spasmed uncontrollably, shaking as he sobbed. Neil hadn’t even realized the wings were no longer wrapped around him until he felt sand — not dirt — at his feet. He looked around, his panic returning a little, but Andrew cupped his face with both hands, stopping him from looking out at the sea.
“Nate,” he whispered, and Neil shivered. The name didn’t sound wrong when it came out of Andrew’s mouth — with devotion and admiration — but it still reminded him of his father. But when he whispered again, Neil felt as if his bones were clicking into place. “Abram.”
This is me, his heart said. This is who I am.
It took him a moment to understand where the feeling was coming from. Andrew seemed to see the confusion on his face, because he laughed a little, still nasal with tears.
“It was your name, the first one. Before you became Nathaniel.”
Neil nodded. “Nathaniel isn’t my name anymore.”
“No, it’s not,” Andrew agreed. His face changed again to a completely heartbroken, anguished expression, and his touch was so tender, so delicate and gentle, and it felt so good that it hurt, it really hurt. It was too much for Neil's heart to handle now.
A hoarse voice ordered him to breathe, but Neil couldn’t. He tried to steady himself, but before his brain could register it, he was kneeling in the sand. The shock of everything that had happened slowly faded. The relief of being alive tore through him, and he finally lost the battle against his unsteady stomach. Andrew held him as he vomited, running a hand down his back and brushing the sweaty hair from his forehead. Neil spat into the sand in a vain attempt to get the bitter taste out of his mouth. Andrew took a deep breath behind him, his forehead pressed against the back of Neil's neck.
He had never been so close to death as he was today. The taste of it was still in his mouth, tearing at his throat. Andrew had almost lost him, again.
Neil closed his eyes, feeling his body shake in involuntary spasms. Andrew’s closeness was a silent reminder that he was not alone, even if the fear of losing everything still consumed him. The warmth of Andrew’s hand on his back was his only anchor in a sea of despair.
He struggled to find words, but his tight throat only allowed short, ragged breaths.
Andrew didn’t let go, but he didn’t hold him back either. He just waited. Neil didn’t know what sound he had made, but he felt the relentless weight of Andrew’s fingers on the back of his neck.
Everything had changed.
Today, he was still just a child, but this time, he felt like he had aged fifty years. Now, he finally knew.
He was a deviation from human nature.
Living proof that nature was officially broken, afraid of what it had done, of what it had become.
He was ready to do something he would surely regret, and this time, he didn't care. No more being nice. No more being nervous. Neil would not be afraid of anything anymore.
Complete chaos was in his future.
And he was burying Nathaniel in the sand, next to his mother, and leaving his past behind.