BLM Donation Shorts: First Flight
@lychee-days requested a fluffy short with Michael as thanks for her donation.
A small hand shoves you between your wings. “You first.”
You can’t see anything below the ledge you’re on, and the thought of falling infinitely fills you with more dread than contemplating a quick end against sharp rocks. Besides, you could probably be picked up by a caretaker even if you crashed, so long as you landed on something solid.
You can’t be rescued if no one can find you, though.
“I told you. Gabriel is too scared,” one of the cherubs from a neighboring nest whispers, loud enough that everyone hears.
“Gabriel is only a cherub,” Michael says, stepping between you and the fledglings, scowling, hands clenched tight.
“You are only as strong as the weakest in the nest,” another cherub chimes in.
Which makes you the weak link.
“Gabriel is not weak!” Michael shouts. You lean forward over the abyss, a small whine building in your throat. Maybe Michael doesn’t think you’re weak, but the rest of the nests in your area think it’s ridiculous that you’re babied and coddled. Dead weight, grounding your nestmates.
The argument escalates, but you’re not focusing on the words. Taking a step back, you suck in a deep breath, shaking in terror. Maybe you’re not as strong as Ramiel, or Michael, or Israfel.
But you’ll keep trying, keep working at it until you can look after them too.
Another deep breath, and then you launch forward, springing off the cliff edge with a half-jubilant, half-terrified scream. You force your wings open but the force of the wind tearing past pushes them too far back.
Now the screaming is pure fear, your mind reaching for your siblings, desperate for them to save you.
It’s impossible, but you swear you can feel them beside you. This time your wings flare and catch the wind, slowing your descent. Tears stream down your cheeks. You’re still stuck, still going to go down—
A small figure, only a little bigger than yourself, almost plummets past before crashing into you. For a few heartrending seconds you’re sure that both of you are going to go down together, but then Michael grabs your hands.
You flap them, panicky and quick, but it works, and now you’re hovering.
Michael’s skin lights up, Grace flaring in an uncontrolled burst of delight.
“Gabriel, you are flying!” he cries.
“I am flying! I am really flying!” It’s as surprising for you as it is for him.
Laughter warms you as he squeezes your hands, eyes crinkled as he beams at you. You squeeze his hands back, your own laughter, breathy and a touch shaky, joining his.
“You are amazing,” he declares. “But you did not have to prove anything to them. They are merely jealous because you are special.”
You let go of one of his hands so you can get better bearings on your surroundings. “I did not do it for them,” you tell him. “I did it because I want to be strong for you.”
Michael is momentarily stunned to speechlessness, staring at you with wide eyes. “We are stronger together, though. Thank you for jumping after me,” you tell him, squeezing his larger hand tight.
