Beck looked back at his apartment in disbelief. He looked to the dull, striped wallpaper that decorated the walls. To the pictures on the wall. His eyes trailed over one of his parents when they first got married. It was the only picture he had of them together. It might have also been the only image he had of them being happy together. Then, his eyes stopped on one very important picture. Hanging in the center of the wall was a picture, worn out from use more than time. The edges were slightly wrinkled now from how many times Beck had pulled the picture out of its frame. Even now, he had the urge to take it off the wall and out of its frame so he could run his fingers over his grandfather’s frame in the portrait.

He always liked that photo-- looking at his parents, it was hard to tell he was actually their kid. They were both brunettes, and somehow, in the gamble of genetics, he had ended up a blonde. Standing next to his grandfather in the photo, however, it was easy to tell he belonged to his family. Even at six years old, he had the older man’s blue eyes, his smile.

Even he was gone now too, though.

He kept his hands to himself this time.

“I’m gonna take a walk.” He announced to the empty apartment.

Beck didn’t bother to grab a jacket or an umbrella before he stepped outside. Instead, he let the rain fall down like sheets onto him. He let the cold sink down to his bones just to feel his body jolt and remind him he was still alive.

He wasn’t quite sure where he was going or what he was doing. His mind had gone completely blank and at the moment, the quiet was welcome. He didn't have to think about anything, or anyone. He just let his feet do the work. One after another, going wherever they pleased.

Lightning struck the sky again, breaking Beck out of his trance momentarily. It painted the sky in streaks of furious white light. 

Beck always found it funny how the worst disasters in movies always happened in the rain, but he supposed he could understand it. It was like the sky was beginning to crack in places. The rain spilled out from the cracks, as if not even the sky could hold in its emotions. Somehow, it was sort of beautiful.

That was the last thing he saw. A cracked, broken sky. 

The next bright light he saw instead came from behind him, followed by the sound of tires screeching and a man’s voice yelling.

“Watch out you fucking idiot!” 

                                                 ◯⚫◯

Watching the car crash was surreal. It felt as if it shouldn’t have been real, but here it was, happening in real time. 

It started with the rain. The man was wandering the streets one night after going out for a pack of cigarettes, and just as he pulled one out to light, it began to pour. Of course that was his luck. He barely had enough time to even curse before the rain began to soak him through his clothes. He had wandered too far. He had been enjoying the walk and now was so far away from home that the rain had practically stranded him. Having no idea where to go, so he took shelter where he could under a small awning.

His mother had always called storms like this heaven’s wrath. It was ironic, considering she had always been far from a pious woman. She had said that, when the lightning cracked across the sky, it meant God himself was angry. 

He had always thought it was a load of horseshit, but maybe she wasn't too far off.

Once he was safe under cover, he padded the inside of his suit jacket for his cigarettes.

“Shit.” He cursed. Soaked. Absolutely ruined. It was the final cherry on top of an already terrible day. 

“Can’t anything go my way for once?” And as if the heaven’s were listening, lightning struck just as he had gotten his question out. This time, it was a little too close for comfort and made him jump.

Like a mature adult, he turned to the sky and stuck up his middle finger. “You know what Big Man, you can kiss my ass too--”

SCREECH.

The lights came first, blinding his peripheral vision. Or maybe it was the sound of the tires screeching that came first? The screeching was too loud, as if even the car was screaming to the driver that he was out of control. He tried to turn to see the car, and for a moment, he thought this was God answering his call by smiting him once and for all. 

Then there was him.

Realistically, the whole scene might have only taken a moment. He had always thought it was just for show and effect when movies slowed down time in moments like this. But it was real, as if his brain couldn’t process the sheer amount of chaos about to happen and instead focused on this one thing. 

A boy, maybe a few years younger than himself, wandering around the middle of the street. He seemed to have that smooth, youthful complexion of someone who was going to be carded until he was fifty. His pale, blonde hair was pushed mostly to one side and stuck to his face in the rain. His eyes were looking forward, but at the same time, weren’t. He knew that look-- he was a million miles away. There was no way in hell, even with all the warning signs in the world, that he’d see what was coming next.

He shouted anyways, because that was the normal thing to do. Because he had to try.

“Watch out you fucking idiot!”

The rest of the scene was a blur in comparison to that one moment. The car came crashing into him. His body slammed into the windshield, cracking it, before flying over the top. The car swerved for a moment, almost going out of control. Then, the driver righted the car at the last moment before it could go crashing into a lamp post. It slowed down for only a moment before it drove off, not even stopping for a moment to see who he'd hit. 

Then there was just him and the boy. The boy, splayed out on the ground with his blood being washed out by the rain as quickly as it poured out of him. His body was mangled, his arm twisted in an unnatural fashion.

When he finally managed a breath, it shook along with the rest of his body. “Fuck.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck--

He ran to him. Dropping to his knees beside him, his hands hovered over him, unsure of what to do. Blood poured out of every orifice. It didn’t take a genius to know he was looking at a dead man, and yet, he looked at him. His chest was still rising up and down slowly with air. The boy had blue eyes- the bright ocean blue kind that poets wrote entire sonnets for- and pale, blonde hair with a pale complexion to match. It was an odd thought, but he looked like the kind of boy everyone’s mother wanted their daughter to marry.

He should have been dead, but there was just a sliver of life left in him. There was a chance.

“Okay. Okay-- we’re doing this.” He put his hands on the boy’s body. One splayed out on his broken chest, while the other cupped his chin. “I don’t know if you can speak or not, but I need you to do your best to give me an answer here. Even if it’s just a thought.”

Lighting struck again. Louder, closer. The heavens knew what was happening, and it didn't like it. It was forbidden. It was wrong. 

“Do you want to live? Do you want to be saved? You have to tell me yes, or I can’t do anything.”

The boy’s eyes were closing. He knew he was struggling to stay awake. They were running out of time.

“Say yes.” He whispered. “Please, just say yes.”

A bright light lit up between the two, so bright, he wanted to shield his eyes. He didn’t though. He couldn’t look away from what was happening, no matter what. Just like how it was hard to look away from a train wreck, fated events had a way of taking a person’s attention much in the same way.

For a moment, he thought he saw the boy gurgle through blood filled lips. Yes.

“Alright. Then all we have to do is seal the deal.”