I stare the ceiling idly, a wing draping over me. It’d be a more familiar scene to home if there’s a ceiling fan running above, with each spin accompanied by creaking sounds, making me wonder if it’s going to fall and kill me. It helps, that odd sense of dread keeps the thoughts at bay, holding together my sanity. Though, right now…

  As I steal a gnce to the literal angel beside me, warmth envelops me whole. It’s almost suffocating in a way, the good kind, of course. You can say she’s the one saving me from crumbling into insanity. A flicker of dread spreads across my face once the thought settled. I can’t stay like this, in the future, I need to let her go.

  Leeching off her kindness for joy like a parasite, that’s such an Anasera thing to do. That’s why I need to go. Besides, I have a maiden waiting for me, in need of saving. For now, I suppose I’ll enjoy it while it sts.

  A twitch of her wing stirs me awake from my idle staring. “You don’t look so well, mortal.”

  “Welcome back,” I say, fshing a small smile. “Is that so? I thought I slept pretty well.” Though, the weight of fatigue says otherwise.

  Removing the hand tucked beneath her shoulder, I reach up to touch my baggy eyes. I rested poorly, again. Was all of this comfort not enough for a good night’s sleep? How greedy can I be?

  “A lot in your mind, mortal?”

  “…You can say that, yes,” I manage to squeeze out after a pause of hesitation and doubt.

  Should I tell her the worries that’s been clouding me? Adding more burden ontop of all she’s been doing, I can’t do that. I’ve been living with these thoughts for so long, keeping them all swallowed. And I’m okay—well, saying that is a bit of a stretch, yes, but I’ve managed this far without anyone else to lean onto. I don’t think it’ll benefit us much if I do share the worries and doubts, if anything, it’ll probably crumble whatever we have now.

  Okay, no it is for the answer then.

  “Let’s talk about them after breakfast. We still have a lot of leftovers from yesterday.”

  “O-oh, but…”

  “No buts. I promised you we’d do the thinking today. Not to mention I have questions for you to answer, and most probably vice versa.”

  Can’t say no to this girl once she’s dead set on something, something I learned the more I spend time with her.

  ***

  I gulp down the st bit of food off the pte, letting out a satisfied sigh. Leftovers always taste lovely, though I think what makes it special is the moment we share with the food itself. Back when I was scraping for money, juggling school and shifts at a convenience store, I only ate once a day. Hell, on the really rough days, it was once every two days.

  And in those once in a blue moon occasions when I managed to buy enough food to have leftovers for the next day… that meant two meals in one day. Whenever that happens, it felt so comforting, so rewarding, like a small victory against the world.

  In this case, we shared a heartwarming feast together, and we couldn’t finish it all. So now, we’re eating it again together. A warm memory relived.

  “You sure worked up quite an appetite,” she comments, her elbow propped on the table, chin resting zily on her hand. “Did doing all that thinking I specifically told you not to do make you hungry?”

  “Ya don’t need to rub it in my face y’know…” Her pte is still half eaten, while I already demolished mine.

  “I know I don’t, but I’d like to.”

  “Hmph.” Huffing at her, my savior no less, feels wrong on some level, but it fits the moment. Because of that, I’m letting it slide.

  “You can go for seconds if you’d like.” She grabs a nearby pte full of the same food I just devoured, holding it out casually. “Do you want to?”

  “I-I’d like to, yes…” I reply sheepishly. A blush painting over me.

  ***

  We finally finish our breakfast. Though, with how much I ate, I might as well call it lunch. I already know I’ll be skipping the next meal. Maybe even dinner. Both of us are now resting in the living room, of course, most of the furniture here are made out of stone. It is a bit hard to sit on the sofa especially.

  “Aaah… I’m stuffed,” I sigh contentedly, leaning back slightly. Really, that was a lot more food than I’ve anticipated. “Thank you, angel.” It is the least that I can do, showing gratitude after being this much of a dead weight to her.

  “Your welcome,” she says setting down a gss of water for me. Her eyes narrow, accompanied by a single fp of her wing. Like she’s analyzing me. “No need to feel bad. I’m doing this out of my own will.”

  Did she figure all that just from taking a closer look at me? Alright, since we agreed to have a talk after breakfast, maybe this is a good way to start. Honestly, I’ll try to rush the questions to see if I can leave as soon as possible. She needn’t waste her time for someone like me.

  “Okay, just how do you do that, angel? Reading me like an open book everytime,” I ask with a tilt of my head.

  “I am simply good at it.” she replies, the corner of her mouth tugging into the faintest smirk. She just… said skill issue to me. Wow. “Although for you, you’re special.” Her smirk softens as she leans forward.

  “E-eh? What do you mea—” I couldn’t react fast enough, or rather, I was frozen in pce by her sudden move. Her arms then pnt firmly on either side of my head, creating a barrier that blocks any chance of escape. “A-a-angel?!” I think my brain just short circuited.

  “Yes? I’m here. Now take a look into my eyes,” she says calmly, her voice unwavering.

  Ignoring the chaos in revolving in me, I try really hard not to combust from blushing and focus on her eyes instead. If I didn’t, I’d spiral into a rambling mess about how utterly beautiful this angel in front of me is. Especially when I’m this close too. And while I’m sure some of you wouldn’t want to sit through hours of me gushing, I absolutely wouldn’t mind.

  “W-whoah…” The first thing I notice is how beautiful and mesmerizing her eyes is, of course, but through her reflection, I noticed how… unique mine is as well.

  Did I always have rose colored eyes? That’s odd. Still, it looks pretty cute on me, I think. But I do think it’s a waste on someone like me.

  The angel lets out a soft ugh, though her face somehow remains perfectly ft. “Those are why you’re a special case.”

  Uh-huh, I nodded at her words, but the brain fails following anything she’s saying. Okay, to be fair, it just got fried badly back there. It is permissible that it’s being dumb, or I’m just making excuses.

  “Your eyes,” she continues, reaching out a hand to help me sit back up. “They reflect what you’re feeling.”

  “They do?” Unconsciously, I reach up to touch the corner of one eye.

  “Yes,” she says matter-of-factly. “When I first met you, your eyes were a dull white. I also noticed they don’t change much if the emotions you’re feeling aren’t very strong, so I thought making you all flustered would do the trick.” She adds a pyful wink—somehow managing to keep her face completely ft as she does.

  “Oh…” I mumble, the realization sinking in. So that was just a trick to make me blush. Of course. Why would she even think of making a move on someone like me?

  I know that. I know that.

  So why am I feeling… like this?

  Ugh. This is so, so stupid.

  “Hey… are you okay? Your eyes are becoming blue,”she asks, her voice ced with quiet concern.

  “N-no, I’m okay. Thank you for checking in though, angel.” Hopefully she buys the forced smile I’m making, and moves on to other things. But it’s hard to hide anything when I have eyes that practically broadcast my emotions to the world.

  Her face—if not for a moment—flickers with something that looks like regret, before going back to her usual, composed self. “Okay, let’s exchange names, then. Since we’ve both been referring to each other as ‘angel’ and ‘mortal.’ Want me to go first?” Thank God—er, not that word—thankfully, she changes the topic.

  Hugging my knees to my chest, I give her a small nod so she’ll continue. Yes, this is practically me screaming I’m feeling mencholic, but I just can’t help it. At least she knows not to pry any further. Though somewhere deep inside me, a part of me almost wishes she would.

  As filthy and sinful as it is for an angel like her, I hoped she’d push to dig deeper.

  ‘…I really need to leave her soon.’ Can’t let someone like me to stain her further.

  “Hey. Stay with me.” She snaps her fingers, and I follow her orders.

  “Y-yes, I’m here!”

  “Good. Alright, so my name is…” she pauses for dramatic effect, it works, I hug my knees tighter in response. “Nirma.”

  “Nirma…” I repeat softly, more to savor how beautiful it sounds than to commit it to memory. Pretty sure with a name this lovely I don’t need to put any effort to make it ingrained inside me.

  “What do you think?” she asks, her tone casual, though her wing subtly moves to hide part of her face. “It’s ironic, though. The name means pure, which I’m the exact opposite.”

  Is she… blushing? That’s so cute.

  “I-I think it sounds lovely! Honestly, I could gush about it all day if you’d let me. And, please, you’re the definition of pure.”

  “No thanks,” she replies ftly, rejecting the offer without hesitation. “Not right now, at least. First, I’d like to hear your name. Then, maybe someday, I’ll let you gush about me.”

  ‘Ashame, I’ll be leaving you soon.’ Is what I desperately wish to say, but I can’t force myself to say it, even if it’s for her own better good. Ah, I guess I also didn’t want to ruin the mood.

  “The name’s Anasera,” I finally say, forcing a small smile. “You can call me Sera or Ana for short.”

  For some reason, introducing myself feels oddly embarrassing, and I can feel a faint blush creeping up my face. That’s new. “It’s… ironic,” I add, nearly mirroring her earlier words. “Anasera means ‘a gift from God,’ which is something I absolutely despise.”

  Her expression softens, her features growing warm with what I can only describe as sympathy. I keep noticing the seemingly random flickers of emotions in Nirma’s face. “I see,” she says, nodding to herself. “Names doesn’t define who you are anyway. And I understand part of what you’re feeling.”

  Is it despising Gods? Or having a name that feels like the opposite of what you are? I want to pry, to dig deeper, but something about the cryptic way she said it makes me hesitate. Maybe she left it vague on purpose.

  “Alright,” she suddenly says, changing the topic abruptly. “Now for the hard talk. I left it for st on purpose.”

  “Anasera…” she trails off, looking at me dead in the eyes. “What do you want to do next?”

  ***

  Zenovia