Archive of Our Own

"Come on, Satoru."

Suguru sighed with a shake of his head, but the reproach was as fond as purr despite himself. 

People liked to imagine guardian angels as radiant, noble beings with golden halos, honey-sweet voices, and wings so big they could block out the sun. Unfortunately for Suguru, his came with a sharp tongue, a bad attitude, and the kind of advice that sounded like it belonged in underground fight clubs rather than a prayer.

At least Satoru had wings. Fluffy ones, even. But not really majestic or divine, just medium-sized, like they hadn’t decided whether to take themselves seriously yet. They grew a little more each time he helped, which meant they were still disappointingly unimpressive, but pretty cute. Well, Satoru would pinch him for calling them that. 

Suguru’s first thought when he saw him was that angels weren’t supposed to slump in midair like they were bored out of their minds.

His second was that this one had sunglasses on. At night. Indoors.

The stranger, or angel, apparently, yawned so wide it made his wings ruffle. "Wow," he said, voice lazy, "You look way more alive than I expected."

Suguru froze halfway through setting down his cup of tea.

"Excuse me?"

"You're excused," the angel grinned. "Don’t take it personally, though. Humans always look like they’re one bad decision away from disaster," he shook his head disapprovingly. "Name’s Satoru, by the way. I’m your guardian angel, blah blah blah, here to keep you from dying too stupidly, you know the drill."

Suguru’s eyebrows furrowed. 

"That doesn’t sound very angelic."

"Yeah, well," Satoru leaned against his window frame like he owned the place, arms crossed over his chest and feathers puffing with smugness, "if you wanted polite, you should’ve prayed harder."

Suguru huffed. Well, at least it seemed like he’d never be bored again. He stared at the angel, trying to decide if this was some fever dream. Angels, he thought, were supposed to descend in radiant light, sing hymns, or at least look vaguely holy. 

This one looked nothing like what he expected. 

And yet, beneath the irritation creeping up his spine, he couldn’t deny there was something magnetic about the absurdity of it, like a living contradiction that refused to make sense.

Satoru hooked a finger under his shades and slid them down just far enough to reveal not one pair of eyes, but three. The "normal" ones were icy and too bright, gleaming with mischief, while below, on his cheekbones, sat smaller, narrower versions he kept closed.

Suguru’s breath hitched. "Six eyes?" 

For a beat, he forgot how to breathe. It was grotesque, wrong, the kind of sight that should’ve unsettled him to his core. But instead of fear or discomfort, what hit him was fascination. The smaller eyes looked too deliberate to be random, too symmetrical to be monstrous. They shouldn’t have been beautiful. And yet they were. The most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Satoru grinned again, utterly unbothered. "Mhm. Handy for multitasking," the two closed sets of eyes opened, revealing blue irises as mesmerizing as the main ones. "This pair’s on you, this one’s checking the fridge, and these guys are keeping an eye on that spider on the wall."

Suguru glanced out of the corner of his eyes and saw that there was indeed a spider there, so small that he hadn’t noticed it. A shiver ran down his spine. Whatever these eyes were, they saw more than any human ever could, and he had no choice but to trust that gaze that was on him.

"What?" Satoru’s voice snapped him out of the memory of their first encounter. 

He was standing by his side, wings tucked in. He looked far too pleased with himself.

 "That guy was about to steal your wallet."

Satoru said this as if it were a fair and adequate justification. Like he wasn't some holy entity that was supposed to be morally good.

Suguru followed his gaze to the man limping down the street, clutching his leg. His brows shot up. 

"So you broke his ankle?"

Satoru shrugged, all nonchalance. "It can be fixed, can’t it?"

Suguru sighed again. His guardian angel had very… unconventional, to say the least, methods to protect him. At least he did protect him. But he wasn't sure the safety of his wallet deserved a broken ankle. Satoru could have, like, just made him trip on his own feet. Or glued his wallet to his pocket with some magical force. Satoru had talked about it once – creating a void-like effect by converging space infinitely to a single point. Some weirdly precise physics stuff that made his brows knit. Satoru had this habit of explaining things in a scientific and rational manner, as if his very existence wasn't supernatural itself.

"You can fix it, can’t you?" 

All of Satoru’s eyes turned to stare at him. It should have been uncanny, but Suguru could not find in himself the will to think so. He hadn’t in a long time now. He even found it comforting, in a way.

"Satoru," he repeated, softer than scolding, but firm enough, as he crossed his arms on his chest. 

It was the angel’s turn to sigh. He looked at his feet with a pout like a child that had just been reprimanded. With a resigned frown, he snapped his fingers. Further, the man straightened up suddenly, looking at his ankle in disbelief. Then he looked up at the cloudy sky, spreading his arms in the air.

"Thank you, God," he yelled at the sky, making people around startle and walk away from him. 

"Just Satoru is fine," the angel yelled back, knowing no one but Suguru could hear him. 

"You’re unbelievable," the man chuckled with a shake of his head. 

"I know, I’m a dream come true."

Suguru rolled his eyes, but the smile on his lips betrayed him. He didn’t contradict him. 

"We have to go, I don’t wanna be late for work." 

Suguru made his way through the streets, his guardian angel flying right behind him. The traffic lights seemed to turn green at suspiciously perfect timings, and even in the busiest crowds, no one ever bumped into him. As always since Satoru was part of his life, it was all a little too perfect, the kind of convenience that whispered of something otherworldly, carrying Satoru’s smug fingerprints all over it. If at first it was unsettling and made him feel as if he was the main character of The Truman Show, Suguru couldn't do without it now. He wasn’t going to complain about how Satoru made his life easier and more comfortable. And at least this was harmless help, which couldn't always be say about what Satoru was ready to do for him.

When he arrived at his workplace, he began his usual routine. He greeted his colleagues, then headed for the changing rooms, putting on his sage green ruffle apron over his white shirt. As he rolled up his sleeves, Satoru's hands tied the apron for him in his back, even if he could do it without even touching him. A snap of his fingers, and Suguru’s bun was more secured, no strands escaping expect from the usual one across his face. 

Suguru headed into the bar and began his shift. He weaved his way from table to table taking orders, coming back as he balanced trays on his hands and forearms. He could feel Satoru's presence in the room, keeping an eye on him and ready to intervene if Suguru needed him to. It truly lifted a weight off his shoulders – knowing that he wasn't alone in this, that he'd never have to be alone ever again as long as Satoru was there. But he won't be with you forever, a voice in the back of his head echoed, low and vicious. He ignored it, pushing it back away. It was rush hour, so he had no time to waste, no time to mope and overthink.  

"Can you bring that to the table number six for me?" his colleague asked as she was already preparing another tray with haste.

"Sure," he grabbed the commands, and walked through the bar. 

He had to weave in and out between tables and people, sometimes lifting the tray into the air to avoid colliding with anything. As he approached the table, he felt the tip of his shoe bump against the metal leg of a misplaced chair. The tray wobbled in his hands, and the drinks should already have spilled, if it wasn’t for the angelic power maintaining them straight in place. 

He glanced at Satoru who was sitting on top of the bar, legs crossed and sunglasses resting on top of his head. The corner of his lips twitched into a smile when the angel winked at him with a grin. 

As he felt sweat rolling down his back, another way-too-old man made an inappropriate comment about him (and coincidentally choked on his food afterwards, while an angel he couldn’t even see gave him a dirty look), and with the exhaustion of the day weighing on his body, Suguru reconsidered Satoru’s offer to help him play the perfect lottery number. He always refused on principle – it didn’t really fit his personal morals – but on days like this, he wished he were less ethical. Perhaps he was trying to convince himself more than Satoru that this was the reason for his refusal. Perhaps he was too much of a coward to accept he was too scared to step outside his comfort zone, outside the routine he had established. Perhaps he was scared that if his live became too easy, then Satoru would leave as he wouldn't need help anymore. Perhaps it was a little bit of everything, a tangled mess of reasons.

The rest of his shift went as usual, and soon it was time for them to go home. It wasn’t until he slipped out of his shoes and slumped onto the sofa that he finally allowed himself to relax. His muscles ached from the day, but there was a quiet comfort in returning to his own space.

His guardian angel busied himself in the kitchen, taking the dish Suguru had prepared earlier from the refrigerator and warming it up. He moved with effortless efficiency, humming softly to himself, and brought everything to the coffee table. Without a word, he sat cross-legged beside Suguru, careful not to crowd him. 

Satoru might be loud, brash, and mischievous at times, but he knew that sometimes silence was the most necessary thing, and he respected it.

"Thank you, dove," he murmured with a lazy smile as he ran his hand affectionately through his hair.

"It’s nothing," Satoru shrugged without meeting his gaze, looking down at his own plate. 

Suguru ate in silence while Satoru talked about the series he’d binged while Suguru was busy. The angel animatedly recounted the plot, wings shifting every now and then with excitement, sometimes brushing Suguru’s shoulder, sometimes knocking over a cushion. Suguru listened with half a smile, too tired to respond but comforted by the familiar sound of Satoru’s voice filling the room. There was nothing divine in the way he talked mouth full of noodles, and Suguru loved it.

When they finished eating, Satoru gathered the plates with a lazy flick of his hand, and Suguru leaned back in his sit, feeling the warmth of the meal and of Satoru’s presence settle into his bones. He was ready to call it a night, maybe fall face-first into bed and let exhaustion swallow him whole.

But just as he walked into his bedroom, his phone buzzed on the table. A reminder flashed across the screen, sharp and merciless, cutting through the calm like a cold shower.

He swore out loud, he crumbled into the chair at his desk instead of his bed's comfortable mattress.

"What’s wrong?" Satoru questioned with a frown.

"I have an assignment due tomorrow," Suguru yawned. He gave his cheeks a few light taps to wake himself up, then got to work. The sooner he started, the sooner he’d be done.

Hours later, Suguru ran a desperate hand in his hair. His wrist was burning from exhaustion, but he couldn’t stop writing yet. Between his part-time job and everything else, he’d almost forgotten about the assignment due the next day. If he could have typed it, it would surely have been finished by now, but his teacher was old-fashioned, allergic to technology, and absolutely merciless about deadlines. And no matter what the excuse, he would not accept any delay.

"You should already be sleeping," Satoru said, as if Suguru didn’t have to fight to keep his eyes open. 

The angel was sprawled on the bed, head dangling over the edge at the foot, legs bent with his feet pressing into the mattress, staring at him upside down.

"I know that," Suguru muttered without looking at him. 

"Sleep deprivation isn’t good for your health."

"Satoru, please," he pleaded with frustration, pushing up his reading glasses with the back of his hand.  

"Humans are weird," the angel yawned, even though he couldn’t even feel tiredness, "Why would some piece of paper be so important?"

"I won’t argue with that, but I still need to finish for tomorrow."

"Is it for that old prick giving you philosophy classes?"

Suguru nodded. He was writing so fast that his handwriting was completely frantic, but at least the mess could hide mistakes made in haste.

He didn’t really react when the door of his window opened and the sound of wings beating the air echoed. He should have guessed it, but he was way too absorbed by his assignment to care. 

But about twenty minutes after Satoru left, his phone buzzed, and his gaze fell on the new notification. 

Class cancelled tomorrow.

His pen slipped from his fingers. He closed his eyes, groaning. Well, at least he could go to bed, now. And even get a decent night's sleep, since his morning was reserved for that same professor's class, and that he had now one more week to complete it.

He left his homework on the desk and dragged his feet toward the mattress. The sheets still carried Satoru’s scent, something strong and sweet that clung like the bed belonged to the angel. It did, in a way, as Satoru spent as much time in this bed as he did.

Suguru slipped under the covers, but he didn’t drift into sleep until the familiar beat of wings signaled the angel’s return, which thankfully didn’t take more than a couple of minutes. 

"What did you do this time, Satoru?" he murmured, fighting his heavy eyelids to keep his eyes half opened.

"Don’t worry, he’s still breathing." The angel grinned. He flopped down beside him, propping his head on his fist with infuriating ease. "I just rearranged his priorities a little."

Suguru cracked an eye open, exhaustion blurring his glare. There were a dozen things he wanted to say, but all that came out was a sigh. He was too tired to argue, too used to the chaos. And a little too thankful to really scold the angel.

"You can sleep now," Satoru murmured, his voice painfully soft. "Sweet dreams, Suguru."

Suguru wasn’t sure if he imagined the kiss pressed to his forehead.

⁺‧₊˚ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ ˚₊‧⁺

One downside of having a guardian angel was definitely the overprotectiveness.

Satoru was by his side at almost every time of the day. From the moment he opened his eyes in the morning, because "I want to make sure you wake up", when he prepared his meals because "what if you accidentally start a fire," on his way to university or his job, because "the world is a dangerous place, you could literally die at any given moment," sometimes even when he was in the shower because "what if you slip and hit your head." 

When he really thought about it, maybe it was all just a Satoru thing more than a guardian angel thing. But he wouldn’t dare call the angel excessive or worse, clingy because having his six mad icy eyes all focused on him sent shivers down his spine, whatever was the reason. 

Thankfully, or not, he was the only one to see Satoru. At least no one else witnessed the way the angel draped his chin over Suguru's shoulder whenever he talked to someone, or how he puffed his not-so-impressive wings like they were some dangerous, lethal weapons.

What people did see, however, were the pens suddenly breaking in their hand, their chair mysteriously sliding away from him, or the obstacles that always seemed to appear just in time to trip anyone leaning too close. These people probably thought Suguru was cursed in some way. "What if one of them secretly plans on killing you?" was the only justification Suguru ever got, and he never pressed further.

It also meant that Suguru had embarrassed himself more than once. When he reacted to the angel’s antics, when he scolded him out loud or when he burst into laughter because of him – alone, in a crowded subway car.  

And sure, he wasn’t the only one with a guardian angel, but not everyone had one.And he didn't particularly want people to know about his. Because the truth was, guardian angels only got assigned to those who needed one. And that was never for pretty reasons.

Saying guardian angels were assigned wasn’t fully accurate, even though it was what he had assumed for a long time. Angels chose their humans, and Suguru had been very surprised when Satoru told him so.

"Why did you choose me?" he asked curiously.

Satoru looked at him with a strangely serious expression, the kind that didn’t suit his pretty face and goofy persona.

"I know what it’s like to be alone."

Ah.

Suguru realized then that Satoru knew – of course he knew. That was why it had been decided that Suguru needed a guardian angel in the first place.

From there, he told him about what he had lived through. Not the way he did with therapists, measured and clinical, but the way you speak when you’re safe. When you’re with a friend. And it was then he realized: yes, Satoru was his friend. His best friend, even.

So he talked about the accidents.

That day at school. Autumn leaves stuck to his shoes, crunching underfoot. The chaotic hum of students crowding the courtyard, laughter, chatter, the sharp whistle of the gym coach somewhere in the distance. Riko calling his name, her voice cutting through the noise. Him turning, grinning at her. Then, the sound. A piercing whistle in the air, too fast to understand. The dull, wet crack as the bullet found her head. The shock in her eyes. The way her body collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut. Screams tearing through the crowd, people running away, as far as possible. But in his head, the world blurred into silence. Later, the whispers about her parents being tied to corruption cases, but none of it mattered. What mattered was the stillness in her face, the sudden absence of her voice. Suguru's friend, dead on the school yard.

Years later, the road. Cold light of the moon spilling over asphalt. Tires shrieking, rubber burning. The violent jolt, the smell of metal in the air, the taste of blood in his mouth. His body thrown sideways, and then nothing. Darkness swallowing everything. Waking to the blinding fluorescence of hospital lamps, sterile and suffocating. The doctor’s flat voice delivering the words. His parents didn’t make it. His world reduced to silence in an instant, a silence so heavy it pressed down on his chest and stayed there. The unbearable emptiness of being left behind. Of being the only survivor.

The hole in his chest like in Riko’s head. The taste of bile in the back of his throat. The constant tiredness and inability to fall asleep. The words colliding in his head, hurting his mind. Social services, a new foster home every few weeks. The will to just stop everything. 

Satoru listened. Really listened. No interruptions, no deflections, no jokes to ease the weight. Just quiet, unwavering attention. And before Suguru realized it, he was in his arms, shoulders shaking, face buried against him. Satoru’s hand patting his head, his lips murmuring soothing words into his hair. He hadn’t allowed himself to cry like that in years. He hadn't allowed himself to cry in front of anyone.

He hadn’t talked about it since then, but he knew Satoru would always be there if he ever felt the need. And he wasn’t alone anymore. So maybe having an overprotective, clingy guardian angel wasn’t so bad after all…

"Don’t hold it like that," Satoru clicked his tongue, suddenly hovering right behind him. His hands instantly covered Suguru’s. "Fingers tucked, knuckles forward: like a claw. The knife rides against your knuckles, not your fingertips."

… even if it meant receiving lessons on how to slice vegetables at the ripe age of twenty-four. 

"And here, your wrist needs to be more flexible. Rock the whole blade-" Satoru’s soft hand was still covering his, accompanying his movement,"Yes, like a gentle wave," Satoru’s warm breath was on his skin, and Suguru felt goosebumps spread on his body. "And your elbow! Higher! Lower! Not too fast, not too slow…" Satoru’s voice rose and fell like a TED Talk on the physics of vegetable slicing. "Cells are delicate! And we care about safety, hygiene, precision, artistry- oh, and speed. Timing is key!"

Suguru groaned, sliding his hands from Satoru’s. "Satoru," he turned his head to look at him. "I know how to slice vegetables."

"Well, you don’t know so well," Satoru countered, tilting his head and peering at his grip. "Judging by how you hold your knife, I’d say you’re barely alive and risking immediate injury."

Suguru rolled his eyes, muttering, "I am not about to die over a carrot."

Satoru’s wings flared dramatically as he leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper. "Ah, but what if, just what if, you slip?" his eyes were all on him "One small mistake and, poof! I lose my human," Suguru tried to ignore the way his heart stuttered in his chest as the way Satoru called him his. "Are you willing to risk that?"

Suguru snorted. "I think I’ll take my chances."

"Oh no, no, no," Satoru said, puffing up, wings brushing the counter. "This is not about chance. This is about knowing what you do." He plucked the carrot from Suguru’s hand, holding it up in the air. "Now watch and learn!"

Satoru began slicing with such absurd precision it was comical: each cut perfectly even, rhythmically moving like he was conducting an orchestra. Suguru couldn’t help but watch, half exasperated, half amused.

"You’re ridiculous," Suguru said, leaning against the counter, smirking. "You’re a guardian angel, not a cook."

"And yet, here I am" Satoru grinned, six eyes sparkling. "I’m just perfect at everything."

Suguru shook his head, laughter threatening to spill. Maybe, just maybe, having an overprotective, clingy angel wasn’t so bad, especially when he was this entertaining.

They ate lunch together as they did most of the time. As an angel, Satoru didn't actually need to eat, but he enjoyed doing so. Suguru suspected that he also didn't want to let him eat alone. The angel wouldn't say it out loud, probably so as not to offend him. Even though Satoru didn't shy away from teasing him most of the time, he was considerating enough to avoid the most sensitive subjects.

"What's your plan for this afternoon?" the angel asked, stretching his wings before folding them again.

"I have an assignment," Suguru sighed, taking a bite of rice with his chopsticks.

"Boriiiiing," Satoru complained like he was the one who'd be stuck on a chair for the rest of the day. Then, he pouted: "You always have assignments to do."

"Well, that's what being a student is."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think it's just an excuse not to hang out together."

Satoru said it with a light chuckle, but he wasn't quiet meeting his eyes, and Suguru wasn't sure if it really was just a joke or a true concern. Satoru had this habit to joke when things displeased him. So, Suguru wanted to make sure he knew:

"I'd choose to hang out with you over anything, Satoru," he said, all gentle and sincere, because it just was the truth.

For a moment, Satoru's eyes widened, but he swiftly covered his surprise up with a shrug and a cocky smile.

"Obviously," he huffed, puffing his wings, "My company is wonderful."

"It sure is, angel," Suguru indulged with a nod.

He contained his smile as the angel's cheeks flushed red, shy embarrassment coloring his face.

They finished their meal amid laughter and bickering, and Satoru cleaned the dishes literally in a snap of a finger.

Suguru was sitting cross-legged on his chair, the soft glow of his computer casting a blue tint on his glasses, papers and pencils scattered across his desk. He rested his head into one hand, elbow planted on the wooden surface, fingers working slow circles against his forehead as if the motion might stir his thoughts into order. In his other hand, a pen tapped absently, steady at first, then uneven, like his focus slipping in and out. Letters and numbers danced across the page in an incomprehensible mess his brain struggled to keep up with.

"Struggling?"

Suguru sighed deeply, sliding a hand under his glasses to rub his eyes. He had gone through the first few questions fine, but somewhere along the way, the steps stopped making sense. The more he tried to follow the formulas, the more it all blurred together as if understanding was just out of reach, no matter how hard he tried to grasp it.

"I don't understand anything."

Satoru leaned over his shoulder, quiet and steady. He didn’t say anything at first, just let his eyes skim the problem, his presence calm and unfazed. Then, with a slight gesture, he pointed to an earlier line, something small he’d missed, where things had started to slip. He began explaining – simply, clearly, like it was the most natural thing in the world. His voice was calm, steady, each step building on the last with a kind of logic that finally made sense. No jargon, no lectures, just a clean, straightforward path through the chaos.

And slowly, like a fog beginning to lift, it started to make a little more sense. The numbers stopped spinning. Things clicked. And Suguru felt like he finally understood.

"You're really good at that," he said, a little amazed. "Not only physics, I mean teaching, too."

Satoru huffed.

"Well, I used to be a teacher."

Suguru froze for a second, slowly turning his head toward him.

"What?"

"When I was human, I used to be a teacher."

Suguru almost wondered if he was dreaming. He didn't have any idea that Satoru had been a human in the first place, let alone a teacher.

"You've been human?" he said in a breath.

It was Satoru's turn to look surprised.

"I haven't told you?"

"No?"

"Ah, I thought I did."

Suguru just assumed the angel had always been one. Especially since he said things like "humans are such weird creatures." When he pointed it out, the angel simply shrugged.

"I've been an angel longer than I've been human, so… sometimes I forget I was one," he said, as he hopped to sit on Suguru's desk. His wings almost knocked over a pencil holder, but an angelic force prevented it right in time. "Also, humans are weird."

Suguru didn't contradict him.

"A teacher, then?"

"Yeah," Satoru smiled, and it was soft, maybe nostalgic. "Physics teacher, in high school."

Suguru wondered how different things would have been if he had met Satoru when he was human. He wondered if they could've been friends, if they met in different circumstances. Maybe they've always been meant to be. Maybe Satoru's flamboyant and loud personality was always meant to balance his more reserved and calm one. Maybe their souls were born from the same flame, always meant to recognize each other. Maybe a red string connected their pinkies.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked before he could really think about it. Satoru tilted his head, silently questioning him. "Your human life, I mean," the angel's eyebrows rise up in surprise, so Suguru quickly added: “It's okay if you don't want to.”

Satoru brought his legs up to sit cross-legged, staring down at Suguru.

"It was..  pretty lonely," he started, voice quiet, with a severity that was unusual. "My family was really strict, and traditional. I didn't really get any friends. Like, genuine friends who understand me," he smiled then, but it was too stiff, almost sad. "I chose to be a high school teacher, I think it was the first time I really chose something for myself. My parents didn't approve, but I didn't care. Not anymore. And it was probably the best choice I made."

A moment of silent, then he confessed:

"I became a guardian angel after I died."

"You.. you look young."

Satoru smiled sadly.

"I was," he chuckled mirthlessly. "I died at 28."

"Oh."

Suguru wanted to slap himself. He wasn't really good at that – using words. Unlike Satoru, he didn't know how to tell how he felt.

He opened his mouth again, maybe to ask for more, maybe to say something really stupid and generic like "I'm sorry you died." But he quickly closed it to avoid embarrassing himself by his emotional incapacity even more.

"Not a pretty death," Satoru added then, because he could tell Suguru didn't dare to ask more.

He waited, like he was letting Suguru the time to stop him, like he wasn't the one talking about his own death. Like Suguru might be the one getting triggered by all of this.

 “I was cut in half, here,” he said, pointing at his abdomen with his index finger. 

Suguru felt sick. He felt like he could throw up, or cry, or both. The acrid taste of bile filled the back of his throat, and the too familiar smell of blood filled his nostrils. The vision of horror formed on his retinas despite himself. The sight of Satoru covered with his own blood, his entrails spilling onto the ground, his body slipt in two pieces. He closed his eyes, swallowing the lump in his throat.

And then Satoru was patting his hair, and Suguru hated it. He hated it because he should have been the one comforting Satoru, not the other way around. He hated that he wasn’t strong enough to carry Satoru’s pain. Even if he knew this was how things were supposed to be – angels were supposed to protect, to heal, to guide. Satoru was his guardian angel, and he was Satoru's human. But he didn’t want that order between them. He wanted to share the weight of his pains. He wanted them to walk side by side, to stumble together if they had to, to find balance in each other’s strength.

"How?" he breathed out, looking back up at Satoru.

"My guardian angel did it."

"What?"

It sounded indecent, impossible. The ultimate transgression. 

"A really weird guy with two faces and pink hair," he huffed as he shook his head. "that's why I got to become one, and he was punished to eternal damnation."

Suguru stood up fast enough to surprise Satoru, who was a little stiff when Suguru's arms closed around him. He quickly relaxed, letting the man press his face in his neck, hugging him back. Suguru held him tightly, arms circling his waist, where he'd been cut in half.

Later, they were both under the covers of Suguru's (their) bed, facing each other, Suguru asked, voice low and curious:

"Every guardian angel was human once?"

"Most of them," Satoru confirmed, then explained: "There are many ways to become one. Rare and specific deaths like mine, or…" he stopped a second, his eyes shining in the glow of the bedside lamp as he looked at Suguru, then he murmured: "Or if a guardian angel wishes for you to become one."

The rest remained unsaid, probably because Satoru didn't want to be the one initiating it, but the thought crept into his mind, making his heart flutter.

⁺‧₊˚ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ ˚₊‧⁺

Sometimes you do stupid stuff that you just know your guardian angel will be mad about.

Satoru and him had decided to go out together as the weather was good. They had a picnic in a secluded corner of a little-frequented park. It was more convenient as they wouldn't get bothered, and Suguru wouldn't have to overthink at how weird he looked from the outside – talking and laughing all alone, with way too much food for one person.

They spread a tablecloth on the grass and brought out dishes they'd prepared together. Satoru had taken it upon himself to make their bento look cute, shaping the rice into the form of Kuromi for Suguru and Cinamoroll for himself. Seaweed cutouts formed Kuromi’s hood and mischievous smile, while Cinnamoroll’s ears drooped perfectly on the other box.

It was ridiculous and far too childish – and so painfully Satoru that Suguru couldn’t even pretend to be annoyed. He’d tried, of course. Tried to roll his eyes and tease him, to scoff and say something about how unnecessary it was. But his chest had betrayed him the moment he saw it: how carefully Satoru’s hands had shaped the rice and placed the details with precision, how he’d taken the time instead of using his powers. Just for this. Just for him.

A warmth bloomed quietly in his chest, soft and persistent, spreading like sunlight through glass. Tenderness had overwhelmed him then, mixed with the irrepressible urge to pull the angel into a rib-crushing hug and maybe bite at his cheekbone. Or press a quick, stupid kiss there instead.

Which he did not do, of course. Instead, he gently elbowed him in the ribs.

"You’re ridiculous," he'd huffed with a shake of his head, smiling despite himself.

"And you love it," Satoru'd replied, wings puffing. And he was just teasing back, throwing the words at Suguru so easily.

He had no idea how true that was.

During their picnic, they talked and laughed and Satoru looked so beautiful under the sunlight, all holy and bright. Satoru always looked beautiful, whether he was dressed in his angelic outfit or Suguru's baggy clothes, or the ones he made for him.

When Suguru had first met him, Satoru used to wear a white silk drapery that covered his torso, while his back was left bare to make space for his wings. It was probably the only thing angelic about him.

But one day, Satoru'd whined about wanting normal clothes and so, Suguru learnt to sew. It was tedious at first – learning how to use a sewing machine, or figuring out the different stitches, and above all, designing tops that would let his wings move freely. At first, he used some of his own clothes as a base, cutting and patching them together, adding buttons and zippers. But after several months, he was buying fabric and making the clothes on his own.

And sure, maybe he could just have told him 'just use your powers, Satoru' but for some reason he wanted to do it for the angel. And he had the feeling that was exactly what Satoru wanted, too. Nothing could compare to the way the angel smiled every time Suguru handed him a new piece of clothes he'd designed and sewn for him with his own hands.

Eventually, Satoru ended up with a collection of handmade clothes. Some tops with fully open backs, others with zippers above and below a central slit, and some, more complex ones, designed with flaps that could be buttoned over his wings, leaving two neat openings for them to pass through.

Satoru looked beautiful in all of them, in those clothes made by Suguru's hands. He looked beautiful with his hair tousled and free, with laughter caught between his teeth.

But at this moment, there was something special about him – about the way his white wings caught the light, about the way his blue eyes gleamed like two suns, about the way his smiles showed all his teeth.

Satoru was the embodiment of something ethereal. He had a kind of beauty so perfect, so impossible, so radiant, it made the word angel feel too small. Suguru was sure that even if he tried to describe him, no one could ever picture how truly perfect he looked.

And Suguru loved that. He loved that he was the only one who could see Satoru and how breathtaking he was. It made him feel selfishly, quietly privileged. Like the universe had chosen him to be the only one to witness it.

At some point, he noticed a tiny dot of sauce clinging to the corner of Satoru’s mouth. His hand moved almost instinctively, reaching out with his thumb to wipe it. And, without thinking, he brought his thumb to his own mouth, licking the sauce off. They both looked away, face red with a strong flush. Suguru mentally berated himself. He always told Satoru to think twice before doing something stupid, but maybe he should apply his own advice himself.

Satoru had continued talking as if nothing had happened, and he was grateful to him for that.

Suguru tried not to think too hard about how it all looked like a date. Tried not to think too hard about how much he liked the thought of it.

They were walking home, when Satoru stopped a second at a food truck selling all kinds of sweets, and Suguru kept walking, knowing Satoru would catch up with him in half a second. The city was loud, the traffic was intense. And then it happened.

One second, he saw the little boy running on the road after his ball. 

The next, he was sprinting after him. 

Horns blared. Tires squealed. Everything too familiar. Suguru closed his eyes as he pushed the boy out of the road, ending up at his place. 

But right before the car could hit him, the world seemed to pause around him. He felt the warm, surnatural coat of his angel's power embracing him. Everything was blurred, and before he knew it, he was out of the way, spread out on the ground with the kid next to him. Wings spread around him, Satoru's shielding him from the outside. 

They remained still for seconds that felt like eternity, until the mother of the child ran to him, crying and thanking him. She held her son close against her, kissing his face and rocking him softly.

"Do you have any idea of how stupid what you just did is?!" Satoru shouted, after he teleported them into a small street where they could talk privately. Or rather, where Suguru could answer him without people thinking he had a concussion for talking all alone.

The gaze the angel sent him was colder and sharper than any ice. His shoulders were heaving, and he realized that Satoru was out of breath, his face glistening with a thin layer of sweat. Suguru paled as he remembered the angel explaining to him how using his powers proportionally drained his own vital energy.

"I didn't-" he stuttered, clammy hands curling into fists as he tried not to panic. "I didn't really think-"

"Yeah, I can tell," Satoru spat out. 

His voice was sharp, every word shaking with anger and something heavier Suguru didn't recognize right away.

"If I didn't intervene this kid would've been dead now," he argued, but his voice was low.

He recognized it when Satoru yelled back:

"And if I didn't intervene you would've been dead now."

Fear.

It was fear that was dancing in Satoru's eyes. Fear that was distorting his pretty face, twisting his expression into something almost painful. His wings flared wide behind him, feathers trembling, reflecting every flicker of emotion he was trying to hold back. The air around them stirred as if his anger had taken form – protective, trembling, desperate.

Suguru’s chest heaved. 

"But I didn't," he argued back. "You were here, Satoru, you're always here to save me," he murmured, his heart trying to find a normal rhythm again. And when he said it, he realized how wrong it sounded, how wrong it was.

Gojo’s eyes flared, wings twitching again.

"But if I wasn’t- if I hadn't been fast enough,” his voice cracked. “You could have died, Suguru, I could’ve lost you there."

Suguru froze. Satoru's eyes were wet from tears Suguru knew he'd never shed.

"I'm sorry," was all he managed to murmur, sincere but not enough. Never enough for how he truly felt.

"I can’t lose you," Gojo muttered, voice trembling, wings lowering around them like he wanted to protect Suguru from the world.

Suguru nodded, chest tight. He knew Satoru's reaction wasn't just because he was his guardian angel. He knew there was something deeper, more important beneath it. It wasn't just duty. It was care. It was more.

He didn’t hesitate to catch the angel in his arm, holding him closely. At first, Satoru remained still, but then his arms closed around Suguru, gentle but tight, desperate.

"I'm sorry, Satoru, I'm so sorry," he whispered in Satoru's neck, grabbing at the back of his shirt. He hated it, hated himself for making Satoru worry. For hurting Satoru.

"It's fine," the angel mumbled. "Just… Don't ever be this reckless again. It's my thing, not yours."

Suguru huffed, holding him tighter. He promised himself that he'd make sure Satoru would never have to worry about him again.

⁺‧₊˚ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ ˚₊‧⁺

Suguru was used to Satoru helping him with dubious methods quite often unethical. And if he pretended to gently reprimand him for it – as he was, of course, the most moral one of them – he never really asked me to stop. But it was fine. After all, he'd never asked for Satoru to do all that. And he was just a mere mortal, what could he do against angelic will?

Except that now, for the first time, he had to ask Satoru to use his power in an unethical way. And sure, he knew that his angel would definitely agree, but he also knew he’d be insufferable about it, and tease him endlessly. Which, to be fair, he did most of the time anyway, but he’d never gotten to confront Suguru’s own questionable morality so directly before.

He couldn't believe that a math exam would be what tipped the scales. Of all things, a math exam. Not a moral crisis, not a life-or-death situation, just a stupid exam. But he really needed a high score on this one, and he didn't have enough time to really focus on the subject and study. Without Satoru's help, he didn't see how he could manage.

So he waited until late evening, once they had dinner and were ready to go to bed.

"I have a maths exam tomorrow," Suguru said, looking away and hoping for Satoru to get it. Which, of course he did. And of course he wouldn’t give in and would force the words out of his mouth. 

"So?" he teased with a grin.

"Iwantyoutohelpme," he muttered between gritted teeth.

Satoru raised an eyebrow. 

"What did you say?" he asked with a tone that let Suguru know he definitely knew what he just said. "Repeat that slower."

Suguru blew air from his nose with closed eyes, and finally asked

"I want you to help me." 

"Oh?" Satoru cooed, exaggerating every word. "My all-morally-good human wants me to help him cheat during an exam?" He leaned in so close that Suguru felt the warmth of his breath brush his cheek.

Suguru bit into his lip, refusing to look at him. 

"What is the magic word?"

Suguru closed his eyes with a sigh. Defeated, he complied:

"Please, Satoru, help me with my exam tomorrow."

"See, it wasn’t so hard," Satoru smiled, all cocky and proud. "You can count on me."

The next day, Suguru sat stiffly at his desk, heart hammering, tapping his pen absentmindedly on the wood. He knew no one could see Satoru, no one could know a supernatural entity was about to pass this exam for him, but he still felt anxiety creeping under his skin as he waited for the teacher to distribute the subjects.

But then, arms circled his waist as Satoru pressed his chest against his back in a hug. Shivers ran down his spine – not from anxiety, this time. Satoru's breath was warm were his lips brushed his ear as he murmured:

"Hey, relax. It's gonna be okay."

Which wouldn't really have help at all, because having Satoru pressed against him made his heart beat like crazy. But then he felt it: that comforting pulse of power, warm and steady, running down his body like a soft current. It wrapped around him, quieting everything inside, slowing his heartbeat and blurring his thoughts into calm. Satoru’s power, coaxing his nerves into silence, like it always did when he wanted him to stop overthinking.

He exhaled quietly, and turned the subject when the teacher gave the go-ahead. He hadn’t realized how much sweat pooled in his palms until the first question stared back at him, incomprehensible.

But Satoru was still there. Now, he was simply leaning over his shoulder, wings folded neatly, sunglasses glinting under the harsh lights. The faint scent of him – something clean and deliciously sweet that made him want to bite him – hit Suguru, and he had to clamp his teeth on his lower lip to stay focused.

Satoru’s chin rested lightly near Suguru’s shoulder, eyes trained on the paper. He didn’t speak at first: he just observed, scanning the subject with his attentive eyes, wings stirring faintly as they always did when he was focused. Then, quiet and deliberate, instructions came: a rephrasing of the question, numbers here, formulas there, a subtle gesture of the hand guiding Suguru’s pencil across the page. Satoru reminded him of things he’d studied but forgotten, and corrected his inadvertent mistakes.

It was like Suguru’s fingers moved on their own, following every hint, every calculation Satoru murmured. He didn’t speak, didn’t breathe too loudly, didn’t dare blink for too long. He simply wrote, tracing the path laid out by the angel at his shoulder.

The classroom continued in oblivious normalcy around him, students scribbling, papers rustling, the distant cough of the teacher, but for Suguru, there was only the warmth above his shoulder, the steady rhythm of Satoru’s whispered guidance, and the silent flow of his pencil.

Each question was crossed off, each formula completed, and with every line, Suguru felt a mixture of disbelief and awe: the exam that had seemed impossible only thirty minutes ago was slowly bending to Satoru’s will.

When he finally set down his pencil, heart still hammering, Satoru leaned back just slightly, letting his wings settle, a small, satisfied smirk on his face. Suguru’s chest rose and fell rapidly, still caught somewhere between exhaustion and exhilaration.

It was only once they were back in the safety of their home that he managed to fully relax. They were still on the entryway, and they had just taken off their shoes when he turned towards Satoru as he was slipping his sunglasses onto the dresser. Suguru didn't let himself the time to hesitate: he cupped Satoru's jaw with both hands and pressed a kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you, dove," he smiled, "I owe you one. "

Satoru's eyes widened for a bit, before they regained their usual cockiness.

"Yeah, I won't forget."

⁺‧₊˚ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ ˚₊‧⁺

Satoru’s wings have significantly grown since the first time they met. It wasn't something one noticed right away, because it was a slow process. Every time he helped his human, his wings grew a few millimeters, so it was only noticeable once several centimeters had accumulated. It was a bit like growing up with someone that you see every day – you don't really notice that person growing up, and then one day you see an old picture and realize how far they've come.

If Satoru’s wings barely reached the lower part of his back at the time, the tip of the feathers now brushed his calves. Which meant that his unconventional and sometimes unethical methods actually counted as helping his human. A good thing – for a guardian angel. They still had a long way to go before his wings reached their full size, but it would happen, eventually. 

And Suguru should be happy for Satoru. He should be glad that his guardian angel was gradually getting closer to his ultimate goal: gaining his wings, and the wish that came with it. 

For their good and loyal service, guardian angels were granted the wish of their choice, without limits or constraints. And most of them chose freedom. Of course they did. Why wouldn’t they want to be freed from their duty of protection, and never again see the human who had been assigned to them? 

So Suguru should've been happy for Satoru, but he was a really selfish man. And he didn’t want Satoru to leave him.

He didn’t want to live without the warmth of Satoru’s presence beside him – the noise, the teasing, the constant touch of chaos that made everything feel alive. He didn’t want to live without Satoru and everything that came with him: he didn't want to wake up without him in his bed, to do his assignments without his complaints, to cook without his ridiculous commentary, to do his laundry and taxes without his laughter spilling through the room. He didn’t want the silence that would come with Satoru’s absence.

Maybe he should talk about it. Open up his heart and pour all his feelings. But Suguru wasn’t only selfish, he was also a coward that didn’t really express his feelings with words. He envied Satoru for the ease with which he could translate his feelings into words, for the way he said what he thought without really caring. Suguru couldn’t do that, even if he tried. The words stayed stuck in the back of his throat, forming an uncomfortable lump in there. 

So he came to the most logical, rational conclusion from his perspective: if to be granted a wish Satoru had to gain his wings, Suguru just had to prevent the process. Thus, he had to make sure Satoru didn’t help him anymore. 

But if there was something his really logical, rational mind didn’t take into account, it was that telling a guardian angel that he didn’t need his help anymore didn’t really come off well. 

It happened quietly, small and ordinary. At first Suguru said he didn’t need help finding his keys, or that he could remember the bus schedule. Then the reminders about homework stopped being welcome, the quiet nudges in lecture went ignored, the subtle pushes in exams were refused. Each time Suguru shook his head: he could manage. He stopped asking where he’d left things. He stopped listening when Satoru pointed out mistakes. He stopped reaching for the certainty of the angel’s presence.

And Suguru didn’t really think twice about it. He didn’t imagine what it could look like. Independence, maybe? Or giving Satoru more time for himself, more space. 

He just couldn’t imagine that to Satoru, it was a knife turned slowly in his chest. Helping him was all he knew, all he was meant to do, and now Suguru was stripping that away piece by piece without even realizing it. 

Until one afternoon, Satoru snapped.

The angel slammed the book shut on Suguru’s desk, hard enough to make the pens there jump.

"Alright, what the hell is your problem?"

Suguru blinked up at him, startled. Satoru’s face was torn in a frown. Not the cute little one when things didn’t go his way, or when Suguru gently reprimanded him. No, Satoru looked actually mad. Six eyes staring at him like they were throwing daggers. Suguru shivered. 

"What?" he croaked, his mouth dry. 

"You heard me." Satoru leaned down, planting both palms on the desk. Suguru noticed the wings twitching behind him. "You keep brushing me off," and then, when what seemed to be a mock of Suguru’s voice, but devoid of his usual playfulness; "‘Don’t help me with this, don’t remind me about that, I don’t need you.’"

His voice cracked, the usual lazy humor burned out of it. Suguru’s mouth opened to retort, to tell him he was wrong, but the lie died in his throat, as his mouth closed. 

"I’m your guardian angel," Satoru spat the words like they were bitter. Suguru’s chest tightened because he realized – Satoru wasn’t just mad, he was hurt. And that something Suguru hadn’t imagined he could ever be the reason. He hadn't even considered that he was able to hurt Satoru like that.

"That’s all I’m good for. That’s the whole reason I’m here. And every time you shove me aside, it feels like you’re.."

He cut himself short, jaw tight, eyes flickering too fast for Suguru to follow.

Maybe it was because it was Satoru, and everything he meant to him, but for once, the words managed to come out from his mouth. 

"I don’t want you to leave."

It was just a murmur, barely audible, as Suguru looked away. The silence stretched long enough to be uncomfortable, before Satoru asked:

"What?"

When Suguru looked back at him, the angel was now all confused. And incredibly cute, but it wasn’t the right time to think about it. 

"If you keep helping me," Suguru started to explain as he looked away again, because confronting the six mesmerising blue eyes required strength he didn’t have at this moment. "Then you’ll gain your wings, and then you’ll wish to leave," he sighed, closing his eyes and the thought of losing Satoru for good. "I don’t want you to leave."

For a moment that felt like an eternity, there was just silence. A heavy, oppressive silence. Suguru held back his breath, waiting for the moment Satoru would yell at him, calling him selfish, ungrateful. Because he was. Satoru had always wanted the best for him, and he wanted to deprive Satoru of his right to finally leave. He waited, but it never came.

"Suguru," he murmured instead, and his voice was so, so gentle.

"I’m sorry for hurting you," Suguru sighed, air filling his lungs and almost burning on the way. "It wasn’t my plan, I just wanted to keep you by my side."

Then he felt two hands cupping his face to turn his head towards him. When he opened his eyes, looking up at the angel, he wasn’t met with an angry, resentful face. No, Satoru looked at him with a smile, and so, so much fondness Suguru could cry.

"I’m not planning on leaving you," he smiled with a shake of his head, like Suguru had just say the silliest thing he'd ever heard. Maybe he did. "I didn't even think about it once."

"No?" he asked in a breath, pleading for Satoru to soothe his fears once again.

Again, Satoru shook his head.

"For as long as you have me, I’ll stay by your side."

"And what if I want to keep you forever?"

The words escaped Suguru's mouth before he could even think of holding them back. Satoru’s thumbs brushed his flushed cheeks softly.

"Then I’ll give you forever." 

That was all Suguru wanted. 

⁺‧₊˚ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ ˚₊‧⁺

Haibara was probably one of the sweetest people he knew.

The younger man was following the same courses Suguru did during the past years. So as Suguru gave some tutoring sessions to make ends meet, they’ve been matched together by the administration. Haibara was nice with a vibrant personality, always polite and eager to learn. He also had a very obvious crush on him. He wasn’t sure if his kohai even tried to hide it, but as he didn’t make an actual move, Suguru didn’t really get to reject him yet. 

It was one of their tutoring sessions at the university’s library. Suguru reviewed certain terminology and explained the most complex concepts, and Haibara nodded maybe a little too enthusiastically, or asked questions about the trickiest notions.

Not so far away, Satoru was literally looking down on them, legs crossed as he was perched on top of a bookshelf. Suguru had to fight the urge to look at him, and tease his clearly jealous angel.  

Instead, he focused on Haibara in front of him. It was probably why not so long after the pen the young man was holding suddenly broke out of nowhere, ink spilling onto his hand and the paper.

“Huh? It's not my day,” he chuckled lightly, before excusing himself to the bathroom. 

Suguru turned towards Satoru with a disapproving expression, arms crossed over his chest. The angel whistled while looking away as if he was half as innocent as he could look like, and Suguru couldn't help but laugh. 

When Haibara came back, he almost fell on the ground as he "missed" his chair while sitting down, if it wasn’t for Suguru pulling his chair back in place with his feet. The rest of their session went just fine, and when it finished, Suguru headed to the cafeteria, his kohai on his footsteps. 

"Do you want something?" he proposed, as he bought a can of Coke at the vending machine.

"You don’t have to," Haibara said politely, moving his hands in the air. 

"Come on, Haibara-kun," he huffed, "It's on me."

"Well, Coke is fine, then." 

Suguru nodded, buying a second can that he held to his kohai. 

"You’re so nice, Geto-senpai."

"It’s nothing," Suguru chuckled with a shake of his head. 

As they headed to the exit of the building, Haibara seemed a little nervous:

"Geto-senpai, if you’re free tonight, I was thinking that maybe we-"

Before Haibara could finish his sentence, the can of soda in his hands quite literally exploded. Like, it hissed and fizzed with violent force, spraying all over his shirt and dripping down his chin.

Suguru froze for half a second, blinking at the absurdity of it, before his gaze slid inevitably toward the angel sulking in the corner. Satoru’s six eyes gleamed like guilty spotlights.

"Oh my god," Haibara muttered, blotting his face with his sleeve, clearly mortified "I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened, I-"

"It’s okay, Haibara-kun," Suguru smiled politely. "You should head back home, it’s getting late anyway."

The younger man faltered, whatever words he’d almost said dying on his tongue. 

"Right," he swallowed without meeting his gaze. "See you later, then."

Suguru gave a wave and waited until he disappeared down the hall before turning toward Satoru. His arms folded across his chest, expression flat, but his voice was warm with dangerous amusement.

"Satoru," he purred, fighting to keep a serious expression. "What was that?"

For a second, Satoru seemed to consider denying the obvious. But instead, he opted for a lame excuse.

"Humans are unpredictable," Satoru said, looking everywhere but at him. His arms tightened over his chest, feathers ruffling in irritation. "Can’t risk having them distract you from staying alive."

"Sure," Suguru snorted. They slowly walked outside, Suguru's eyes never drifting away from Satoru. He then handed him the can of Coke he had bought, and smiled: "Here." 

Satoru blinked, surprised, and looked at the soda with interest

"You got it for me?"

His wings fluttered with joy.

"Of course, angel. Who else would it be for?" he smiled, enjoying the faint flush dusting the angel’s cheeks as he accepted it.

They walked together under the pale glow of the moon, Satoru sipping pointedly at his drink like it could hide his face. Suguru glanced sideways at him, his own lips curving as he felt the need to clarify:

"I would’ve rejected him anyway, you know?"

Satoru froze for a second, surprised, but quickly regained a straight face. 

"Whatever," Satoru muttered, wings twitching as he took another sip, still refusing to look at him.

They arrived home quickly after that. They moved in their usual routine: Suguru took a shower, then they both changed to put on a tee-shirt and sweatpants that belonged to the human.

Suguru was sitting at the edge of his bed, while Satoru sat cross-legged behind him, gently brushing his hair. The angel seemed to really love his hair, always making sure it was well taken care of – and who better to do that than Satoru himself?

Satoru just finished securing the braid with a hair tie when Suguru's phone lit up with a notification. They both perked up to look at what it was. Suguru raised an eyebrow when Haibara's name appeared on top of the new text.

"Why is he still texting you?" Satoru mumbled with a scowl, clearly annoyed, maybe a little mad. "Looks like I'll have to embarrass him more."

His wings quivered, a tension rippling through every feather, but it looked cute, if you asked Suguru. He chuckled fondly at the angel's behavior.

"What are you laughing about?" he frowned like an angry cat.

"You look cute when you're jealous."

"I'm not jealous."

"You're so are," Suguru teased, leaning in to bring his face closer to that of the angel.

"I'm not," Satoru denied again, avoiding his gaze.

Suguru placed a strand of white hair behind Satoru's ear, enjoying the blush on his face he wanted to kiss so badly. And he tried to deny it, deny himself, deny them from what they clearly both wanted.

"You're jealous," Suguru stated firmly.

Satoru's lips parted to contradict him once again, but Suguru wasn't having it. With a deft movement, he grabbed Satoru's waist and swung him onto the bed, pining him down.

Satoru's eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't push him back, didn't try to stop him when Suguru positioned himself above him. He even spread his legs to let room for his body, and Suguru had to hold himself back to devour him whole. He looked so good like that, white hair and wings spread on Suguru's dark bedsheets. He looked so good and holy, and what it made Suguru feel was nothing but blasphemy.

"You're cute when you're jealous," he said once again, and this time he was able to finish: "Even though you have no reason to be."

Satoru knitted his brows, and Suguru didn't miss the way his Adam's apple moved as he swallowed. He could see the thoughts racing behind his eyes, so he cut it short, making it easier for him. He cupped his face with one hand, thumb brushing his cheekbone.

"Why would my beautiful angel be jealous of anyone, when he's the only one I want?"

Satoru's face relaxed, pupils dilating and lips parting in a "Oh" as the brightest blush bloomed on his face. He breathed heavily, like he was trying to calm the emotions rushing into him.

"Of course you want me, I'm so perfect," Satoru swallowed, trying to act confident and cocky, but Suguru knew better. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for the rest. "You're lucky I want you too."

Suguru smiled, really smiled, like he only relearnt to do when Satoru came into his life. His smile with his lips and his eyes turning into crescent moons, gentle and loving.

"I'm very lucky," he indulged, leaning closer and closer and-

Finally, his lips pressed against Satoru's.

Satoru’s lips were warmer and softer than he could imagine. He kissed him deep and slow, and within seconds, Satoru grabbed him as if he were a lifeline in the middle of a turbulent sea, tight and close.

Suguru kissed him like his life depended on it. Eagerly, almost desperately. He grabbed his jaw firmly in place and licked into Satoru's mouth, nipped at his lips, swallowed the sounds he made. But Satoru didn't let him free reign, didn't let him fully be in control. He grabbed and pulled at his hair, kissed back even more eagerly, thrusting his hips for friction, and Suguru couldn't get enough of it.

He broke away to catch his breath, nuzzling at Satoru's jaw. But Satoru was hungry, and Suguru was still breathing heavily when Satoru flipped them over, placing himself on top of Suguru to straddle him before he jumped back on his mouth. Satoru kissed him sloppily, holding his face with both hands to angle it the way he wanted.

Suguru couldn't help but smile, hands on Satoru's waist – they fitted perfectly there. But he was greedy and Satoru was too, apparently, so he didn't shy away and let one of them slide on the curve of Satoru's ass and squeezed. Satoru moaned into his mouth, where their tongues were still connected. His wings slapped in this air in rhythm with the rolls of his hips as he grinded as messily as he kissed.

Suguru groaned, hips thrusting up uncontrollably. Heaven. He was in Heaven. It was the only explanation for how he ended up in this situation. Satoru's warm body pressed on his body perfectly. His lips and his tongue were sweet and soft, kissing harshly yet lovingly.

They ended up on their sides, facing each other. They had taken off their tee-shirts to be more comfortable, and when they weren't lazily kissing, they just held onto each other and gently stroked each other's body in soothing circles, eyes half opened. Suguru couldn't believe he could be so blessed to have Satoru like this, in his bed, all for him. And sure, Satoru had always been his, in a way – he was the only one who could see him, the one for whom he had been sent.

But it wasn't the same. Now he was allowed to kiss him and hold him tight with no restrain. Now he knew the taste of Satoru's mouth, the way he gasped for air when they kissed for too long, the way his eyes shine when you look close enough.

Satoru was divinely beautiful like this. One of his wings was tucked in place in his back, the other was simply on top of their body, like a shield. Like Satoru wanted to put them in a bubble away from the world. Suguru loved it.

Without thinking, he brushed the white feathers with his fingertips, shivering at how soft they felt. Satoru whimpered at the touch, so Suguru abruptly withdrew his hand as if he had been burned. 

"Sorry, did it hurt?"

He looked at his angel, expecting to see his face twisted in pain. Instead he was met with the most beautiful pink hues on porcelain skin. 

"N-Not really," Satoru was avoiding his gaze, looking down at the pillows underneath them, a hand covering half of his face to hide it. "They’re just… sensitive."

Suguru’s brain short circuited when he realized the implications of his words as he replied the last few seconds – the touch of the feathers, the whimper, they're sensitive.

Without thinking twice, he stroked the feathers again, and Satoru moaned. 

"Fuck," he swore, grabbing the angel by the waist to pull him closer. 

"They should be more sensitive at the base," Satoru confessed in a breath.

So Suguru let his hand slid along Satoru’s ribs – his skin was softer than velvet under his fingertips. His hand moved to his back and he slowly reached between his shoulderblades, where wings met skin. He pressed there, on the sensitive skin between his wing roots – a nerve-rich part of his body that was never touched, that even Satoru himself could not reach. Satoru arched under his touch, lips parting into a loud moan.

"Right there," the angel whimpered, the sound vibrating to Suguru's crotch.

He rubbed circles on the skin there, then flickered the base of the wings, encouraged by the sounds Satoru made. Suguru felt hot all over his body, his dick twitching in the coffin of his sweatpants. He mindlessly started to rut his hips against Satoru's, turning the angel into a full mess.

Satoru closed his eyes as he threw his head back with a loud moan, and Suguru took the opportunity to kiss the skin exposed in front of him.

"Beautiful," he murmured against him. "So pretty for me, dove."

He nibbled and sucked at his neck, groaning at the same time as Satoru. He licked over the lovebites, drunk on the smell of the angel – something as sweet as the pastries Satoru liked so much.

He trailed kisses to his shoulder, gently kissed the fluttering wings that he could reach, soft feathers against his lips. Satoru was so cute, chanting little ah ah ah and twisting at every touch. And when the craving was just too much to endure, he grabbed him by the hair and pulled him into a harsh kiss. His tongue found its way past his lips, tasting the angel's mouth as soft and sweet as cotton candy. It was inhuman, it was ethereal. Satoru tasted like nothing he'd ever had.

"More," Satoru begged against his lips, eyes almost closed and shining. "Suguru, mo-"

Suguru swallowed his words with another hungry kiss, as his hands were busy trying to take off their pants. It was tedious, as he didn't want to break contact, didn't want to stop pressing against Satoru, and didn't want to stop kissing him. Not now that he had him. But quickly enough, their clothes had disappeared thanks to Satoru's power. And when their hard, leaking cocks brushed, they both groaned into each other's mouth.

Suguru couldn't help but look down at Satoru's dick. His breath hitched at the sight. It was as pretty and perfect as the rest of him. Instead of hairs, his pubic area was covered with small white feathers that looked soft. They brushed a porcelain skinned length with a pink, wet tip he could've sworn was glittering. Satoru rolled his hips experimentally, rutting their dicks together, and they both moaned in unison. His hands pulled at Suguru's hair as he peppered his neck with open-mouthed kisses, alternating with giving him kitten lick and soft nibbles.

"More," he commanded again, and who was Suguru not to comply?

He grabbed Satoru's thigh and hitched it above his hip. He dug his fingers into the tender flesh, then kneaded it appreciatively. Satoru's thighs were meaty, soft as the muscles weren't flexed, and it would be a lie to say he never contemplated them when Satoru wore shorts that looked so tiny on his long legs.

His hand slid, traveling further to grab a hand full of his plump ass. He squeezed avidly, making Satoru startle, face pressed in his neck. Then he glid his fingers between his cheeks. He circled his hole, and was surprised to find it moist and relaxed. When he slid a finger inside, it was wet. Like, really wet. He pulled out his finger to look at them with astonishment: pearlescent looking slick glimmered on his phalanges. It was filthy yet so beautiful. He couldn't resist and brought his finger to his mouth to have a taste, closing his eyes and humming at how sweet and good it was. He needed to have a taste of it at the source, to greedily press his face against Satoru's ass and lick and suck at his hole, to have his mouth so filled with that scrumptious slick that he'd choke on it, to drown on the taste of him–

"You can- just put it in-" Satoru mumbled, messily trying to kiss him again.

Suguru swore under his breath. It would be for later.

He quickly flipped the angel on his other side, making him gasp in surprise. Now Satoru's back was facing him, and he leaned in to press kisses on his nape as he grabbed his cock with a hand. He bringing it between the angel's cheeks and aligned it to his entrance, and slowly shoved his cock inside, tight, wet heat welcoming him.

"Oh my god," Satoru whined, digging his nails into the forearm pressed against his belly as Suguru bottomed out.

Suguru bringed his boyfriend closer, arms holding Satoru steadily as he fucked into him. Obscene, wet sounds echoed in the room, mixing with the ones Satoru's opened mouth made.

"Fuck, Satoru you're so-" his breath hitched, and he closed his eyes at the sensations. He pressed his forehead against Satoru's burning skin."So tight, so perfect."

He licked and kissed his neck, traveled down to suck on the sweet spot between his wings that seemed to turn Satoru crazy. And it did. He sobbed, his wings as uncoherent as the rest of him – twitching and beating frantically, slapping the bedsheet, the headboard, Suguru. Not that he'd complain. But he needed to see Satoru, to see the pure bliss and debauchery on his face. To see what he did to him. To see how good he made him feel.

So Suguru pulled out in one go, making the angel whine at the loss. He rolled them over until Satoru was on his back. Seeing him spread out like this was beyond anything he had imagined. Ethereally gorgeous, Satoru looked so pure and holy, so pretty and ruined. His porcelain skin was dust with powder pink, his hair was laid out around his head like a halo, all his eyes were wet with tears and stared at him with trust and devotion.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said solemnly. The words came easy, he didn't even really think about it. They just came on his tongue to state the truth.

Satoru's eyes widened slightly in surprise, before he eased into a smile.

"You're not so bad yourself," he murmured as he reached for a string of Suguru's hair, smoothing it between his fingers.

Suguru grabbed his hips to pull them up enough, and slid back into Satoru's hole whose warmth he was beginning to miss. Satoru gasped, eyes clothing with pleasure. Suguru rolled his hips in a slow pace, pulling out until his tip was barely in before shoving back in a harsh movement. He loved the way Satoru tried to follow his pace, craving for more. But Suguru didn't give it to him, not too easily, not until Satoru asked for it.

"Your wings okay?" he asked then, brushing them lightly.

"Yes,” the angel panted, opening his eyes to stare at him. "Go harder."

"Demanding," Suguru snorted. "What's the magic word?"

Instead of giving him the answer he was waiting for, Satoru asked:

"Want it tighter?"

Suguru blinked slowly at him. He had this cocky grin on his face, like he was the one in control again. Maybe he always had been.

"What?"

Satoru closed his arms around him to pull him closer, the grin never leaving his face. Then Suguru felt the grip around his cock tightening . It wasn't just Satoru squeezing naturally – no, he was using his power. Suguru felt the surnatural, warm feeling of it.

"Oh, fuck," he trembled, pressing his forehead on Satoru's collarbones. 

"Yeah?" Satoru breathed out, sounding really pleased of himself.

"Yeah," he whimpered back.

Then he started fucking into the angel harder, his hips smacking his ass with earness at a frantic, almost animalistic pace. All his muscles hurt from the effort but it didn't matter, he couldn't care. Not when Satoru felt so good around his cock. Not when he was moaning his name and shaking and holding him close, begging him to not stop and give him more. So he did. He hit that spot over and over again, the one that had Satoru sobbing – all eyes rolled up and fat tears rolling down his cheeks. He moaned Suguru's name again and again, like a prayer, like a worship whose words he marked into his skin with his fingernails.

Suguru grinned slyly, satisfied to turn the angel into a beautiful mess, and leaned in to lick the tears off, the salt of it mixing with the sweet residue of Satoru's slick in his mouth.

Satoru's body trembled underneath him. He quite couldn't remember at what point he brought one of his leg over his shoulder, his fingers pushing on the back of his thigh to hold him in place. Suguru pounded into him, face buried in his lover's neck, murmuring praises incoherently. He wasn't sure if Satoru could hear him, as his voice was covered by the sounds of his hips smacking relentlessly against Satoru's ass, but it didn't matter. He showed it as best as he could in the way he held and kissed Satoru. He felt his release building inside him, the fire getting stronger in his lower belly, so he slid a hand to stroke Satoru's cock pressed between their body.

"S'guru, I'm gonna- I'm-"

Suguru felt something new then. Something he never got to experience with Satoru. He felt as a warm, thin layer enveloped him – enveloped them together, cutting them from the world. He felt it all over his body and it was too much, too overwhelming, too good. Satoru's angelic power, everywhere around them, on them.

The angel's ass squeezed around his cock tighter, his back arching, and it was too much for Suguru to hold any longer. He spilled hot cum into Satoru's tight ass, groaning and rocking his hips through his release. Like it was all he needed to finally reach his high, Satoru came a few seconds later with a delicious noise.

He collapsed on top of Satoru with all his weight, but it was fine, his angel was no small man. He felt Satoru's hands play with his hair as they both tried to catch their breath, holding onto each other. Suguru never felt better than at this moment.

When he finally pulled out, cum and slick leaked out from Satoru's hole. Suguru felt weirdly proud and satisfied about it. He laid next to Satoru, both arms around his waist to hold him close as he pampered his face, pressing soft kisses all over it. Satoru giggled, shaking his shoulders as Suguru's long hair brushed his neck.

"It tickles," he huffed between laughter, and Suguru finally stopped, resting his head on his lover's chest. They stayed into each other's arms for a moment, appreciating the aftermath of their orgasms.

When he came down from seventh heaven and found himself back in the comfort of his bed, Suguru propped himself up on one of his forearms to raise his body just enough to look at him. Satoru had this haze, satisfied expression, a small smile permanently on his lips. To see him like this, full of bliss because of him, made Suguru eager. He always wanted more of Satoru.

He pressed his face on his neck, kissing at his pulse before traveling up.

"Satoru," he purred in the way he knew made Satoru dizzy. " More," he was the one to beg this time, kissing the angel along his jaw.

Satoru chuckled lightly, gently tugging at Suguru's hair.

"Okay, lemme just-"

Suguru looked at him as he detached himself from his arms to roll on his stomach. Then, he bent his legs to be on his knees, moving his ass up as he kept the side of his face into the mattress. He stared at Suguru who still hadn't moved, stunned in awe at the sight in front of him. The angel looked all proud of himself.

"Are you just gonna stare?"

Suguru swore and quickly placed himself behind him, both hands coming naturally on Satoru's hips.

Suguru rubbed against his entrance, barely catching in before his cock slid up between his cheeks. Satoru wiggled his ass, pressing backward to force it into himself.

"Just fuck me already," Satoru ordered, looking over his shoulder with that spoiled expression.

Suguru huffed. He caught his ass in both hands, spreading his cheeks so he didn't miss a beat of Satoru's tight, perfect hole spreading open as his cock slowly shoved inside.

This time, he took his sweet time to revel in the sight of each centimeter of his cock disappearing inside of Satoru. The angel made small gasps, short, jerky breaths as he arched his back as much as he could, chest deeply pressed against the mattress.

When his hips met the curve of his ass, Suguru took a deep breath and enjoyed the view a little longer. Satoru looked so beautiful, arching his back for him, pushing his round ass up for him, making pretty sounds just for him. He was so good, so perfect, and Suguru wanted to give him everything and more.

"You're such a dream, dove," he murmured, massaging his hips gently.

He folded himself over Satoru’s back to press a kiss between his wings, and the angel trembled, wings fluttering as he squeezed around his cock.

"Fuck, you're so deep," he whined, knuckles whitening where they grasped on the bedsheet.

Suguru rocked his hips at a slow pace. This way, he could be precise with each thrust, careful to hit on Satoru's sweet spot every time he pushed in. He kept his eyes locked on Satoru's hole, on his cock fucking him. On Satoru's ass bouncing at each thrust, and, a little higher, on his back muscles flexing, on his wings beating the air. He was a little stuck, mesmerized by the sight.

"God, Satoru, you feel so good," he gasped, "So good, so perfect for me," and the praises had Satoru clutching around him tighter. "Such a good angel"

He was so deep and Satoru was so tight and so warm – he couldn't hold back anymore. He groaned and started fucking into him with more earness, holding tightly on Satoru's hips to steady him. Satoru fully sobbed, tears rolling down the pillow on which he pressed his face to muffle the sound of his whines.

The angel babbled something he couldn't comprehend, but it was fine, Suguru didn't need words to know what he meant.

Suguru pressed one of his feet on the mattress for a better angle. He could fuck into a him harder, but it wasn't enough. And Satoru's milky wings were twitching right there, so pretty and so tempting, holy and untouched, deserving to be ruined like the rest of him. So Suguru didn't think twice when he grabbed Satoru's wings, one hand on each, and used them as a leverage to thrust hard and deep.

The way he tugged at Satoru's wings had his face pulled up, back arching deliciously. He didn't miss to catch how the angel's voice was cracking at how loud he was, a blasphemous litany of obscene verses falling from his lips.

It didn't take long before Satoru was coming, trembling and ready to collapse on the mattress. Suguru gently loosened his grip on his wings, letting him rest on his stomach, though he held his hips in position, tightly gripping as he chased his own release. He felt it then, la petite mort, the weakening of consciousness after he emptied himself into Satoru's hole, falling on his back. For a moment, his vision blurred, and he heard nothing but his own heart beating wildly.

It took him some time to come to his senses, and he finally managed to pull out, trembling as he rolled over to free Satoru from where he was trapped beneath him.

"Sorry," he mumbled. Satoru nestled against him as soon as he was lying on his back, wrapping an arm and a wing above him. "I was pretty rough on you."

"Nah, I loved it," the angel grinned, pressing a kiss on his collarbone.

Suguru caught his lips, and they kissed sloppily and uncoordinated. It was a mess, it was perfect.

Eventually, Satoru tidied everything up. With a snap of his fingers, the bedsheets were cleaned and smooth, the comfy blanket covering their bodies now washed from sweat and other body fluids.

They stared into each other's eyes, foolishly enamored. Blue eyes fixed on amber eyes, like the sky meeting the earth. Satoru's fingertips brushed his cheekbones, tracing the lines of his face like Suguru was a work worthy of study, like he wasn't an angel in a mortal's bed.

"I love you," he said, voice low but steady, an easy smile on his lips.

Suguru blushed, eyes wide and mouth agape, and he knew Satoru was delighted to witness his reaction.

"Heh," he chuckled lightly, hiding his face in the crook of Satoru's neck, his arms holding him tighter.

"Say it back, moron," the angel frowned as he pinched him his lower back.

Suguru straightned up to look down at him, his lips stretched into a smile.

"I love you," he said, and it was easier than he thought it would be. Because he did love Satoru, more than anything, more than any mind could comprehend. And even if these words were not strong enough to convey the intensity of his feelings, he wanted Satoru to know.

"Satoru," he called him, and Satoru opened his eyes to look at him. "We could.." he swallowed, searching for his words. "We could be together forever, right?"

Satoru's eyes opened wider in surprise for a second, but quickly eased.

"Are you sure?" Satoru murmured, sliding a black strands of his hair behind his ear. "Eternity is a really long time."

Suguru nodded without hesitation.

"I want it with you."

Satoru's hands slid on his nape, and he pulled him closer so their forehead were touching.

"You'll have to die from this world, is that something you're okay with?"

He didn't have any family left, and he hadn't talked to his friends in a long time. Maybe it was selfish, maybe he knew they could grieve him easily, but he didn't hesitate to answer.

"Yes," he affirmed. "As long as we're together."

He watched as bliss bloomed on Satoru's face. The suns in the skies of his irises shone brighter, radiating love and affection, and Suguru was close enough to not miss the way his pupils dilated. His lips spread wide into a smile, wonderful and ever so sincere, showing his teeth and the red of his tongue he now knew the taste of. Before he knew it, his smile hit him like one of Cupid's arrows, and Suguru was smiling back.

⁺‧₊˚ ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ ˚₊‧⁺

People liked to imagine guardian angels as radiant, noble beings with golden halos, honey-sweet voices, and wings so big they could block out the sun. Shoko Ieiri would beg to differ. 

Firstly, she didn’t have one but two guardian angels, as if the universe were trying to punish her instead of protecting her. They came as a whole package, and could have arrived in a box labeled with “do not separate”, as they were always glued together. 

Secondly, they had nothing noble. One came with a sharp tongue, a bad attitude, and the kind of advice that sounded like it belonged in underground fight clubs rather than a prayer. The other pretended to be all good and proper, and wore a polite mask, but always indulged the first one. 

At least Satoru had majestic, divine wings and could almost be taken seriously. The same couldn’t be said about Suguru, who just had medium-sized, fluffy wings which made it disappointingly unimpressive. 

Lastly, having two guardian angels was supposed to mean double protection. Well, it might have sometimes. But her guardian angels spent more time making out on her couch than serving their duties. And when she dared to complain, she was received with a "you should’ve prayed harder”, and giggles. 

Well, at least she’d never be bored again.