Concrete Angel newtitlewanted

Guess who needs a title?

I kinda slapped the title on randomly...the story was inspired by Martina McBride's "Concrete Angel" (I don't own) but the story doesn't really match the lyrics. Like, at all. So I figured it could stay for the time being, but please any and all recommendations are welcome!

Well, enjoy, and please R&R!

Not beta'd.

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A slight breeze blew through the school courtyard.

Garnet walked slowly through the old entrance gates, school bag clutched tightly in his shaking hands, soft red hair hanging solemnly over his bruised left eye. Though the shining sun and birds calling to one another signaled the approach of summer, he donned a long-sleeved shirt and blue jeans; the same clothes he'd worn for the past two days.

His teacher, though dumbfounded, did not press the matter, unaware of the harm she was unintentionally causing him in not doing so. A few of his classmates whispered quietly amongst themselves. He paid no heed. He could handle the emotional abuse. It was much less severe than what he might be subjected to at home should he tell anyone of the current...situation in his household.

o.O.o.O.o

It was rare moments like these that he could truly feel safe, even if only for a moment. Here, he could scream; he could cry.

He could breathe.

With warm arms wrapped around him, a soft voice whispering sweet nothings in his ear, a sweet earthy scent so intoxicating; this was his place. His place to scream; to cry. Silent tears would cascade down his face like a waterfall, ceasing to stop once they started, and Pace would hold him tightly, promising him everything would be okay.

On occasions such as these, watching the sun go down from the cover of the forest beside the school, he would nuzzle into Pace's chest, breathing deeply, trying to etch that earthy scent into his mind, and would merely listen to Pace talk. It didn't matter what he was saying; whether he was talking about his day, or his family; Pace would talk, and Garnet would listen.

All he wanted was to hear a kind voice.

o.O.o.O.o

"Where the fuck have you been?"

Unfortunately...these stolen moments sometimes lasted longer than they should.

"I oughta fucking kill you! Do you have any idea how late it is?"

And it was times like these that he wished he could disappear.

"It's two in the fucking morning. You're gonna pay for this, worthless little...!"

He didn't hear the rest of her sentence as she cuffed him, hard, over his right ear. Pain rushed through his head and heat flashed across his body, turning his vision orange for a moment. He opened his mouth to yelp and, winded, failed to do much more than gasp. He turned his head slightly to try and get a look at what he was going to fall into. He gasped and fought to spin out of the way of the antique china cabinet; if this blow didn't kill him, his mother would. This china was the only thing in the house she truly showed attachment to.

All hope fled from his being as the pivoting foot slipped from beneath him. Everything after seemed to happen in slow motion. His mother let out an audible gasp, horror and rage evident in her voice. He seemed to hang suspended in the air for a moment; nothing moved. Nothing breathed.

And then came the impact; splitting pain coursed through his body. Thin shards of glass ranging in size and shape pierced his pale skin, staining it red. His spine tensed in an attempt to lighten the impact, but he managed merely to push himself farther into the shower of glass. His head throbbed; his heart clenched nervously and he squeezed his eyes closed. Nothing eased the pain. It was excruciating.

He fell to the floor in a bloody heap, lips going blue, chest rising and falling rapidly as he so desperately reached for air. His mother looked at him, her face a mixture of shock and rage. She reached for the nearest solid thing she could grab - an empty picture frame - and hurled it at him, narrowly missing his head, before stalking off to her room.

Garnet slowly tried to push himself up, arms shaking under his weight. Metallic-tasting bile rose in his throat and he couldn't keep himself from vomiting, retching harshly. Slowly but surely he stood, leaning his shoulder against the wall. With every step pain coursed up his leg to his hips; bruises were forming where he'd hit the wood of the old cabinet.

With tiny steps he made his way to his room, falling to the ground beside his bedside table. He reached up shakily for his phone, needing two or three tries before his trembling fingers hit the right buttons. He retched violently again as the ringing stopped and the voice on the other end said nonchalantly, "Hello?"

Garnet clutched the phone desperately to his ear. "Pace..." he whispered pleadingly, focused too much o the pain to be surprised at the rough gurgle of his normally soft voice. "T-talk to me..."

The voice on the other line gasped. "Garnet? What happened? Are you okay?"

"P-please...talk t-to me..." Garnet repeated. I want your voice to be the last I hear.

Pace bit his lip, but obeyed Garnet's pleading, speaking in a soft, soothing voice; "It's okay. You're okay. I'm here."

Garnet smiled as he felt his own breathing slow; his vision was going out, and the burning pain was starting to ebb away. He hushed Pace with what little strength he had, and with his last breath whispered "I love you."

Pace gasped. He felt wetness on his face and brushed the tears away. "I love you too," he said, his voice cracking slightly, hoping to God Garnet had heard him.

o.O.o.O.o
3 Months Later

A slight breeze blew through the cemetery.

Pace knelt at the polished headstone, running his fingers across the etched-in letters. He smiled sadly, tears brewing at his eyelids.

He sighed deeply and stood, reluctantly lifting his hand from the small stone. He took a deep breath, leaving a rose red as garnets laying gently on the polished rock. He turned and walked away solemnly, hands in his pockets. He liked tot think Garnet had heard him that night, on the phone, and that his voice had been the last he heard. The thought comforted him. He sighed slightly and made a left as he exited the cemetery.

He didn't know it.

But Garnet had heard him.

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How was it? Good? Bad? The most wonderfully amazing thing evarrr? The most awful terrible oh-my-god-my-eyes-are-burning piece of crap evarrr?

I can only know if you review! Please? I will love you forever.

Title suggestions welcome!