The Way of the World

Chapter Four

Time is an allusion. It is simply what we perceive as the planets moving around the sun in an orderly, but not perfectly consistent, routine. Pain is also an allusion. All pain is simply a neural connection to the brain deemed and named pain. Yet we still fear pain. We still fear its grasp. Its uncomfortable tendrils as they slither throughout our body and take control of our movements and thoughts. We still fear. Until our body stops feeling the effects of pain. Our mind stops noticing the passing of time. We simply cease. But the pain must go somewhere. Time must continue to pass on. We share the pain with our family members and loved ones. They must also now begin to grasp the confusions of time. So, yes, time and pain are an allusion . . . but they also affect us in very real ways.

Will stood at the edge of the street, waving for a taxi driving towards them. Grim stood off to the side, careful not to scare Will away.

"Why is it so difficult to get a goddamn taxi in this city?" The redhead mumbled under his breath.

"Please refrain from saying my father's name in vain, Will." Came a calm voice behind him. Will crossed his arms over his chest.

"Oh yeah, I guess since you're an angel that makes God your father. That's," Will paused, unsure how to phrase what he wanted to say. "weird." He finished lamely. Grim made no comment and simply stepped forward and held open the newly arrived taxi's door.

Cautiously Will climbed into the vehicle and scooted all the way over to make room for Grim. "Avalon Clinton, 52nd Street, please." The door closed with a snap and Grim settled down beside him, wings pressed firmly to the seat then down to the floor. Will leaned in close to the angel, "That doesn't look comfortable, can't you just get rid of them?"

"They do not seem like they wish to leave anytime soon." He whispered with a frown, attempting to put them away by force.

The driver glanced into the rearview mirror and saw the man shoving at air and thought it best to keep his mouth shut. (Man, people in New York are crazy.)

Will wanted to be mad. He wanted to be furious, but he just couldn't. After all, Grim hadn't really lied to him. They had only met that morning, and just dumping something as big as being an angel on a person wasn't exactly 'no big deal'.

"May I feel them, Grim?" Will asked extending his hand. "Your wings?"

Grim blinked. "Oh," he muttered, surprised. Nobody had ever asked to touch his wings. He wasn't close to any of his siblings and grooming was something for family and soulmates to help with, so he just did it himself. "Sure." He carefully extended his left wing towards the human so it rested on the small seat between the two.

Will slowly reached out and touched the arch on the dark wing. It felt stronger than it looked, and much softer than he had expected. The lights of the busy New York street traffic reflected off of them, giving Grim's wings a glorious sheen.

"Grim," Will breathed. "They really are beau —"

The cabbie slammed on his breaks as the car from another lane swerved into theirs. It rammed into Will's side of the vehicle. Grim's head jerked to the side and bounced harshly off of the window. Will's window shattered as the door caved in, trapping his leg. His body was flung the other way and into Grim's shoulder.

Grim's head was ringing fiercely, but he still heard the sound of the sirens and swears of their cabbie. The angel turned his head to look at Will. The redhead had blood pooling in his ears and blossoming over his shirt. His once sleek hair was now matted and askew.

Grim gasped. A noise muffled to the angel's own ears. "Oh, my, father!" Grim exclaimed wrapping his wings around Will. "Will? Will, are you okay?!" The angel cried, gripping his soulmate's face between his hands.