Stained Dreams

Strange Fruit is an amazing webcomic. The artist drew a brilliant picture of two of the main characters and I was instantly hit by the urge to write a story to go alongside the picture. After complaining about how I suck at fanfic I wrote one anyway.



Strange Fruit Fanfiction

Ephraim was walking back from his brother’s after reassuring Augy that he could indeed look after himself. And it wasn’t even a complete lie. Since Azriel had turned into a permanent room-mate he’d gotten a lot better at the essentials, like making sure there was actually food in the cupboards.

He shifted his shoulder bag and effectively zoned out as he walked the familiar route. It was lucky that he didn’t get run over, however in hindsight that wouldn’t have been the worse thing that could have happened to him.

The worse thing would have been noticing the strong sunlight shine off of red hair, and noticing the pretty slanted brown eyes on the woman then realising who it was. Mishu. Then the further realisation that you had already been spotted and it was impossible to run away. Of course that didn’t stop Ephraim from trying.

Turning around and quickening his pace so that he was practically flat out sprinting, even knowing that he couldn’t possibly maintain that pace, he heard the heavy footfalls behind him, gaining on him, and soon he knew that they’d be on top of him.

Jener grabbed him and effectively stopped him moving no matter how much he struggled. They stood waiting for Mishu to approach them as she took her time, using a leisurely pace. It was clear who was in control and Ephraim, remembering what happened last time, was afraid. It wasn’t so much for his own physical welfare, he’d been in fights before and he didn’t always win, but last time, well, he said things that he didn’t want to say. More than anything he was afraid of betraying Azriel and putting him in danger. He knew what the sick fucker approaching him had done to the angel.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Mishu smiled her sweet disarming smile. Looking at her you wouldn’t think her capable of what she had done.

Jener’s grip tightened as Mishu took a step forward, running her hand down Ephraim’s cheek, her index finger over his lips in a deceptively intimate, loving gesture. “I think you’ve seen the fallen since we last spoke, haven’t you?”

Ephraim shook his head. Willed himself to say nothing. Even bit his lip so hard that blood began to well. He suspected that would soon be the least of his injuries.

“Don’t you know to answer a lady when she asks you a question?” she chastised, accompanied with a backhand, which stung against his cheek. “Now let’s try this again before I really get mad. Tell me where the fallen is.”

“I…he…” Ephraim stuttered, battling with himself. Mishu sighed and prepared to hit the worthless mortal again.

After several minutes and a list of injuries as long as your arm, Ephraim was left alone in an alley where it was assumed that he would most likely die there. He fought unconsciousness, not relishing the idea of dying in some dingy alleyway, with rubbish spilling from bins. Besides he wasn’t sure what he ended up telling Mishu, everything was just a blur so he really had to check to see if Azriel was in any danger, especially after he had promised him that Mishu would never hurt him again.

Slowly, using the foul smelling bins as support, Ephraim managed to get to a standing position. He was astounded by just how much pain he was in. Trying to assess the damage he decided there were several cracked ribs, more bruises than he could possibly count and every cell in his body screamed for some sort of relief.

As he took the first few tentative steps he really wished that he could just lie down and sleep the pain off. Then he thought of Azriel and the pain he must have been in when Mishu first got her hands on him. He had really feared losing his remaining wing and Ephraim knew that the shadite would never let him keep it. No, she’d probably try to remove it or something as sick and he could not allow that to happen. Even if it had already been proved, twice, that he was no match for her.

After what seemed like agonising days with no end, he arrived back at the flat and as soon as he crossed the threshold, door closed and locked behind him, he collapsed to the floor.

“Ephraim?” Azriel called from the kitchen. “I wasn’t expecting you back so late,” he continued as he walked towards the door. Upon seeing the battered Ephraim he gasped. “What happened!” he demanded, sinking to the floor and pulling the near unconscious male into his lap.

“You’re safe. Good,” Ephraim smiled. He wanted to sleep so much.

“Tell me what happened,” Azriel requested again, this time his voice softer.

“Oh, not much. I just ran into Mishu again.”

“What!” the angel exclaimed. Thoughts raced about his mind, predominately the thought that this was his fault. If it weren’t for him Ephraim wouldn’t keep getting hurt like this. But before he could truly focus on that he grabbed Ephraim’s hand, who all but clung to his arm, and started to heal him. It was his fault, it was the very least he could do.

By the time he was done Ephraim was in a deep sleep but at least Azriel knew that he would wake from it. Azriel couldn’t help the tears that begun to fall down his cheeks. He couldn’t help the guilt because really, Ephraim had been nothing but good to him and all he caused the other was pain.

He didn’t know how long they were both there on the floor, but the next thing he knew Ephraim was tightening his grip on Azriel’s arm and whispering, “Don’t cry.”

“But,” the other began before being cut off.

“But nothing. Don’t cry. It’s not your fault.” Ephraim smiled, showing Azriel that he meant it. The angel returned it somewhat uncertainly.

“I like your smile,” Ephraim commented, causing Azriel to smile more sincerely, and he forgot that he was meant to be crying.