did it hurt when you fell from heaven?

A/N: babes, you read the summary, so idk. like i said this is very old so let's not associate this with how i write now, but anyway, this is an ancient "bro and angel" sketch universe fic. have a nice time reading it and leave a comment or a vote to keep me alive if you like it!

Work Text:

Bro looked at his phone for the millionth time in the last hour, still disbelieving his own accomplishments. He'd never been very good with the ladies. He just didn't have the charm, not like the other fellows did, and they hadn't let him forget it.

It hadn't helped matters that in school, the ladies had turned up their noses when they heard his name. No girl wanted to say she was going with "Eugene". Not the captain of the cheerleading team nor the mousey girl with glasses who was too shy to talk to him. It was just a bad draw in life, being called Eugene.

That's why he decided that his name would, from then on, be Bro. Bro was simple, easy to spell, universal. Much less risky. There was the trouble of texting though. Due to autocorrect's questionable decisions, many of his texting-pals actually knew him as Brow.

That was still better than Eugene.

Speaking of texting, he wondered if he should text her. He hadn't been on a lot of dates. He just didn't know the protocol. Maybe he should text a friend for help, he thought. But the last time he texted a friend about a date, well, they weren't very encouraging. He couldn't blame them, of course; who would want to date him- sorta dumb looking, too tall, and no grace whatsoever.

Of course, said friend also believed his name to be Brow. That may have played a part.

He sighed, glancing at his phone one last time before opening his car door and stepping inside. He was glad he'd only had one drink, happy to be sober for this moment. It was an important moment, the day he finally got a date without help or sympathy, without bribes or luck. He asked a girl on a date and she said "yes", presumably because she wanted to.

He pulled into his driveway and stepped out of the car, locking the doors for the first time in weeks. Not a part of his usual regimen, as he didn't so much mind what happened to his car. It would be a good enough excuse to call in sick if someone stole it. But now- now he needed to keep it around. He had a use for it tomorrow night; a use he didn't at all dread.

Going to work wasn't the best experience. He didn't mind the job much and he made enough for his comfort. He just didn't get along so well with the people there. They were always after him about this or that, talking about their latest romantic conquests and teasing him about his single status. Telling him to liven up, or get fashion sense, or asking if he even had any friends.

He didn't want to tell them that he didn't, not really. He'd never been good at making friends. He wasn't particularly enticed to get better at it either, based on their example.

But the last straw, or at least what finally pushed him over the edge of realizing how much of a loser he really was, happened the day before. Of course, his name was still Eugene. That's what his momma, bless her heart, chose, and that's what his birth certificate read, to every official in the courthouse's amusement, he was sure. It's what he wrote in his job application. To be sure, he added that he went by Bro in personal interaction. The applicant officer respected his wishes, but when review time came, his application was handed to his boss, and everyone knew the truth. His name was Eugene and everyone had a good joke about it. Whether it was a pun to do with personal pronouns and pants, or a question about a Disney movie, he could count on his co-workers to remind him of his faults.

It was high school all over again and he just didn't have the patience. It wasn't fair, he'd grumbled, as he walked to his car earlier the same day. Two days of name jokes. That was it. He was going to the bar. It was Friday night, no one he knew went there. He didn't care what happened.