Gabriel stared out the window, wondering what today would be like. Every morning, before he opened his eyes, he would mumble a little prayer that this day would not be like the previous days. He would beg God and any other deity who would listen to his pleas to just stop the insanity and chaos that filled his waking hours (and even some of his sleeping hours). Then he would get up, pull on his white robe, and go to sit by the window, waiting to see if his prayers would finally be answered.
He could see his reflection in the glass, mottled and distorted by the imperfections of the glass. His long, flowing blond hair was tied back; he had brushed out all of the tangles and knots before he came to the window. That was a Rule. One of Michael's many Rules. Gabriel would do it anyway. He would brush his hair and tie it back with the dark purple satin ribbon that Michael had bought him. Then he would sit by the window and stare out. His dusty blue eyes were reflected back, naturally, but Gabriel looked past them. He looked down on the people milling about just outside the palace walls. They seemed so normal, so happy, so... free.
Sit, wait, and hope: that was Gabriel's morning routine. Of course, it was always for naught; after a few moments of peaceful hope, he could hear those footsteps coming through the secret passageway that connected his room with his twin brother's. His parents never would have let them stay in rooms connected if they had known...
Michael would enter the room almost silently. Closing the passageway behind him, he would glide over to the main door of Gabriel's bedroom with a silver skeleton key. Now no one could get in or out unless they knew about the passageway. Gabriel's breath caught in his throat when he heard the bolt slide into place. A couple of silent tears slid down his face as he felt Michael delicately caress the ribbon in his hair. Those lips, identical to his own, found their way to his neck, and Gabriel realized yet again, with a great crash in his heart, that there was no God to answer his prayers.
He could see his reflection in the glass, mottled and distorted by the imperfections of the glass. His long, flowing blond hair was tied back; he had brushed out all of the tangles and knots before he came to the window. That was a Rule. One of Michael's many Rules. Gabriel would do it anyway. He would brush his hair and tie it back with the dark purple satin ribbon that Michael had bought him. Then he would sit by the window and stare out. His dusty blue eyes were reflected back, naturally, but Gabriel looked past them. He looked down on the people milling about just outside the palace walls. They seemed so normal, so happy, so... free.
Sit, wait, and hope: that was Gabriel's morning routine. Of course, it was always for naught; after a few moments of peaceful hope, he could hear those footsteps coming through the secret passageway that connected his room with his twin brother's. His parents never would have let them stay in rooms connected if they had known...
Michael would enter the room almost silently. Closing the passageway behind him, he would glide over to the main door of Gabriel's bedroom with a silver skeleton key. Now no one could get in or out unless they knew about the passageway. Gabriel's breath caught in his throat when he heard the bolt slide into place. A couple of silent tears slid down his face as he felt Michael delicately caress the ribbon in his hair. Those lips, identical to his own, found their way to his neck, and Gabriel realized yet again, with a great crash in his heart, that there was no God to answer his prayers.
