Work Text:
"I'ma- I'ma- falling angel-- no, fallen? Fallen angel-- yeah, yes, that's the one..."
Graphite smears the side of his hand, fingers aching from hours of writing, he sits hunched over his desk, a piece of paper with "EUROVISION" written in big letters at the top. The sheet is crinkled from repeated erasing, smudged with dark stains from when he carelessly ran his hand over it. But he's making progress. Steady progress, he's practically in a flow, just a couple more hours and-
A phone call. He snaps out of his trance, staring blankly at his hands. His flow... It's ruined. He snatches his phone from the phone jail he put it in, answering with a snarled what?
Muffled sniffling on the other line, a pathetic keen and dear God he does not have the patience for this tonight.
"Andreas..."
He knows it's Emma by the way she spits his name, venom pooling in her mouth, and he can imagine her eyes, fierce and alight with mockery. Always looking down on him, even when she's the one who kneels at his feet. Pointedly, she never calls him. Avoids talking to him like he's got the mumps or something.
"What do you want?" he asks, not completely unkindly, but bordering on it. He can be gentle, especially with Emma.
"You need to come pick me up," she demands, and he hears the start of a choked off sob. A hint of worry worms its way in between his ribs, nestling there like a baby bird recently hatched.
"Where are you?" he asks, already on his feet, car keys in hand.
She dutifully gives her location.
She's sitting on the sidewalk outside a fancy hotel, runny mascara streaking down her cheeks, lips raw from biting. He pulls up in his Volvo, throws the door open and rushes over, furry coat already off his shoulders and enveloping hers. She stares up at him with loathing, something dark in the way her fists clench. Still hiccuping, she stands on wobbly legs, pulling his jacket closer with no small amount of distaste.
She climbs into his car, curling into the door, as far away from the driver's seat as she can get.
As he's driving, he makes conversation. "So? What happened? Did he get rough with you or something?"
Emma scoffs, and he sees her glare in the corner of his eye. She looks away again, out the window. Her leg bounces up and down, up and down.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you."
"No, I wouldn't. Believe it or not, I care about you."
This startles a laugh out of her. "Yeah, sure. In the same way that you care about your car. I'm not stupid, Andreas. I mean as little to you as the other girls do."
He worries his lip. Doesn't know if he should tell her, reveal just how special she is to him. She was his first girl, his pimp debut. His magnum opus, in many ways. He doesn't love her, but the ownership he feels might be something close to it.
"What happened?" he repeats.
"That guy. He didn't pay me for sex," she begins, voice exhausted. "He wanted someone to talk to."
Andreas remains silent as she continues.
"He told me about his wife. How she died, broke her neck after slipping on a banana peel. Then he held me in his arms for hours."
She sniffles, folding into herself, slumped over. A few hulking breaths later and she's crying again, heaving sobs between stuttered words about banana peels. Andreas pulls over on the side of the road, places his hand between her shoulder blades. He rubs soothing circles into her fur-covered skin.
"Emma..." he says, a tear slipping down his face. "Emma, listen."
She raises her head, eyes locking onto his, watery and deep and unfathomable as the darkest oceans.
"I'm a, I'm a, fallen angel... Tryna fly but I'm not able, so..."
Blink, they're blinking in sync. He continues singing, until she surges forward and cuts him off with a bruising kiss, hot and desperate for comfort and his hands curl into her jacket and hers find his headband, ripping it off and tangling her fingers in his hair.
He knows now, the end to his song.
No, I'm a, I'm a fallen angel... tryna fly, but I'm not able, so... just let me go (I'm a, I'm a fallen angel). 'Cause no matter where my heart is there's no way I'll ever reach up to heaven... to you.