I don’t know how I feel about this honestly, it was a random idea that I had scribbled down into a notebook a few days ago, and I decided to see it through. This is quite short, tbh.
If someone could draw angel!michael with his wings for me, that would be gladly appreciated.
“Was it worth it? Falling for me?”
Michael was sitting on the balcony, bare back facing you as he stared up at the moonlit skyline. You could see the thinly-veiled sadness in his green eyes, watching him as he stared at the place his brother and sisters were. You knew he missed it, being up with his family in his home.
Your eyes traced over the marks on his skin - the two thick parallel scars that ran from the bottom of his shoulder blades to the small of his back and the freckles that sprinkled over his shoulders, representing the feathers that downed his former wings. His plump pink lips parted as he thought over his answer, not looking at you as he nodded once.
“Of course it was.” his eyes were trained on the starts above, a sad smile gracing his features. “I still miss having wings, I wish they hadn’t gotten taken away from me.”
“What did they look like?” you were standing behind him now, chin resting on his shoulder. Gently, you let your fingertips run over the length of one of his scars, watching as Michael’s eyes fluttered closed.
“They were beautiful, honestly. Having them was the best thing about being an angel.” The words were quiet as they slipped from his lips. His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed around the lump in his throat, sighing. “They were as gold as the sun, so big that they dragged behind me whenever I walked. The tips of the feathers are what I admired the most. They were a dark brown, almost black.
It was unlike anything had ever seen before. Angel’s wings were supposed to be a bright, innocent, and happy color, not some brooding and mysterious color. Everyone teased me about it for the longest, saying that it represented what my soul actually looked like; tainted. My mother thought they were unique, said that it was amazing that I wasn’t like the snobby, all-righteous assholes that lived in Heaven.
They all thought they were proven right when my wings were burned off in front of everyone.”
“Your soul is the most beautiful thing to ever exist, Michael.” you kissed his cheek, pulling your hand through his hair as you praised him. “You are an angel, my angel. With or without your wings.”
“You’re my wings, Y/N.” he murmured. “I thought I had lost them, but actually they just changed into the person I love the most. You.”