Chapter Text
Blood.
Blood filled his sinuses.
Simon slammed his arm forward and tried to grab the man currently making a show of parading around before him. His bruised knuckles stung. The opposition was bleeding from his mouth- he had gotten a few good hits in before two other men came out of hiding and pulled him down.
Simon struggled in the cell as he felt hands grasp at his arms and pull him backwards towards the cold floor. The grotesque crack of knuckles impacting his jaw rang in his ears. He sputtered and tried to focus his eyes on his attackers. Another fist impacted into his gut and he groaned out.
Fights were normal for him, but never to this degree. He counted three- maybe four people. Two holding him down and one dealing the blows. These guys were smaller than him, but combined, they had successfully managed to corner him in the darkness of a cell and hold him down.
Simon wanted to fight back, to throw these guys off and pummel them right back, but.. he felt heavy and weak. It was the middle of the night; he had lost enough blood to make his head spin. He let his eyes flutter shut between the blows.
After some amount of time that Simon refused to count, the men had left him to bleed in the darkness. The dark-haired man slumped down with his side and temple pressed into the cold, metallic bars. Drawing a wheezing breath, he tried to get up. Simon felt his knees buckle, and he slammed hard into the floor. Silence enveloped him for a while…
Until he heard footsteps. Soft and gentle. Simon attempted to pull himself up, weakly leaning against the corner of the cell with his arms braced before him defensively. Narrowing his eyes, he saw a figure peer around the corner.
Blonde hair was the first thing he noticed, messy and skewed. Upon his face sat gold, metallic frames. He wore different shades of brown: dark, nearly black jeans rolled at the ankles, and a long-sleeved sweater swallowed by a tan cardigan. A few scarves adorned his neck and shoulders – not far from the outfit Simon himself wore, but the colors were different- no, no… he was just cleaner. Almost too clean for a prison like this.
The most noticeable feature of the man was his eyes: pretty pools of blue that looked down at Simon in a way he couldn’t recognize. They weren’t threatening, nor were they demeaning. Just soft and caring, flickering across his battered face and weakened body.
Simon’s only conclusion? He’d died. He’d died, and this angel of a man had come to his aid. Simon groaned and stumbled forward towards this angel. As quickly as he had risen from it, he saw the ground rapidly approaching him. He braced for the pain of the impact… but it never came. Arms now held him up where the blonde had caught him.
“Woahh careful there, you- wow thats a lot of blood - you're - gosh.."
“Nnn.. no shit.” Simon croaked out and tried to push him away. He didn’t deserve an angel’s help. He was a killer, a murderer, a butcher.
“Please- please let me help! You’re hurt..” The blonde whimpered and attempted to scoop up the man. Pulling Simon up by the arms, he waddled him towards the entrance of the cell. He scanned up and down the hall before turning Simon towards the right length of the corridor.
“Where’s your cell?”
“27b.” Simon croaked into the man’s shoulder. His feet dragged behind him slowly, his angel the only thing keeping him moving. He didn’t deserve this, so he put no effort in. Not until the angel gazed at him with those sweet eyes.
“Please.. come on, I can’t drag you. Just hold on for me a bit longer.. Let me help you.. Wh- what’s your name?” The blonde tightened his hold on Simon’s side and pulled him up a bit more.
“I.. don’t..- hrrk.. deserve your.. he… help.. just, let me die. O’ Holy One.. Eden’s tree shall judge me…”
Simon started whispering more prayers to himself. Slumping further into the blonde’s shoulder as his legs finally gave out.
“Oh- oh come on! Please- I won’t let you die, buddy. My name is Grace.. that’s what they call me. Please just, walk a little longer with me.” The angel- now he had a name- begged Simon with that caring voice. It all felt alien to him – different, strange, and sickeningly addictive.
Simon whined and croaked in retort before he forced his legs to start carrying his own weight. He made an effort to walk with the blonde towards his cell.
Once they were in, Grace sat the man down on the crappy sheet metal of a bed that hung suspended against the wall. Simon wheezed again as he felt his lungs refuse to inflate. The blonde pulled off one of his own scarves and used it to dab away the blood crusting around Simon’s eyes and leaking nose. Pinching the soft flesh of his nose, Grace instructed him to lean his head forward and down so he wouldn’t choke on his own blood. The scarf smelled nice. A nice, clean, and earthy scent that was foreign to him. While Simon followed his instructions obediently, Grace tied back the dark brown hair that stuck to Simon’s forehead and cheeks to clean his wounds with what little had on him: a small amount of gauze, tan fabric bandage wraps, and a small canteen of water.
He seemed to know what he was doing, rinsing out the cuts on Simon’s face, arms, and knuckles. Practiced hands wrapped bandages around Simon’s own and held the gauze to his forehead until it stopped bleeding.
“Sss…sssimon..” He finally croaked out, muffled by the fabric he held against his nose.
“No.. no, I’m Grace- not Simon.. sorry..”
“I’m Simon..” He wheezed, a small laugh erupting from his throat before he felt his lungs fail, and he sputtered out a cough.
“Right! Right right right- of.. course.. Sorry- sorry.. It’s- nice to meet you, Simon..” Grace smiled awkwardly as he finished up Simon’s aid. He pulled the fabric away from his face to check if he was still bleeding. Relieved to see the flow had stemmed, Grace paused to just observe him now.
“How are you feeling..?”
“Bad.”
“Oh.. yeah.. yeah I get that.” Grace frowned sympathetically and smoothed back Simon’s hair, attempting to lay him down.
“I’ll- be back in the morning.. Get some rest. I- I have to get back to my cell.. before the guards realize I left— please, please just.. stay safe.” His angel stumbled back from the bed, attempting to leave him, only to be yanked back by Simon’s hold on the bloody scarf.
“Take.. take me with you… I.. want to go with you.. Angel..”
Grace stared at Simon for a moment. Those blue eyes searching the other’s face. His mouth opened and shut- gawking like a fish out of water. His thoughts stalled before he finally spat out a response. "You wha- angel? not an Angel, no, no. I'm just here- I'm just another prisoner... the guards, I have to.. go..." Grace grimaced and pulled away while he awkwardly gestured to the cell’s entrance, leaving the bloody scarf in Simon’s grasp when he found he couldn’t pry it from him. The blonde hurried out of the cell and disappeared from Simon’s sight.
The injured man groaned in displeasure, lying on his back for some while before slowly rolling over onto his side and sulking there until he fell asleep.