As I sleep, there's an angel that sits quietly on my window sill, watching over me.

 

 

I remember him being there ever since I was a child, so he was no stranger. Little baby me liked to hear the sound of his wings fluttering, as he reached my window, slowly accommodating himself. He was a comfortable presence, keeping me safe. always there, every night, almost fading into the background, becoming a piece of wallpaper, that little baby me could only see when it was dark.

 

But he was still mysterious, and four years old me, that had just started to question the world, and all things in it, also started to question that figure who was found of sitting in my bedroom's window. That long legged man, whose slightly long brow hair had soft curls here and there, possessed a beautiful smile, that made me feel nice and warm every time I saw it. But I still didn't know his name. And four years old me didn't like that. Four years old me was too curious.

 

"Who are you?"

 

The simple question of a child. But that was the first time I ever tried to communicate with that beautiful creature, and my small heart felt agitated. Not really nervous, or afraid, but just excited. Looking forward to know more about him.

 

"I'm Chanyeol."

 

That simple answer, was something only a child could accept. A child that didn't need to know his job, his age, or how much money he makes. Four years old me was glad with only his name. But after a few days wondering, my child self decided he still needed to know more.

 

"Why do you come see me every night?"

 

Why was he always there, sitting nicely, watching as I fell asleep? Letting his wings move, ever so slightly, to form an area of comfort around his body, and staying there for the whole night. The white feathers, that moved with the wind coming into my room, looked so soft, just like the ones that came out of my pillow, if I threw it too hard. My mom always told me not to do that, but I liked seeing it. Those small feathers that filled my pillow, reminded my of the big ones that covered his wings.

 

"I'm an angel. I'm guarding over you, Baekhyun."

 

And that was enough for the four years old me. I didn't have any more questions, that was a perfect explanation. He didn't need a reason to do that, and I accepted that he just did. But then, four years old me was different from nine years old me. That slightly older me didn't understand anymore. I needed a reason. Why would that angel only look after me, every night? By then, I knew a bit more about angels, things I heard from my mom or grandparents. Angel are there to look after the children in the world, especially the ones in need, the sick ones. But I wasn't sick. I had always been a very healthy person, very cheerful and strong willed. Why would he need to look after me everyday? And nine years old me asked. He wanted a reason, an explanation as to why it was so. As four years old me was okay with just knowing, nine years old me wanted to be able to explain, even if only to himself, and to do that, he needed reasons. So he asked.

 

"because I want to. It makes me happy."

 

Not the reason I expected back then, honestly. But it was a reason never the less, and nine years old me accepted. He wanted to, he did it to make himself happy. 'He is a selfish angel' was the conclusion that young me reached, and just let it be.

 

But teenager me started becoming friends with that angel. I understood more back then, and didn't go to sleep as early, so I was left with more time to talk to the angel on my window. No one else could see him but me, so it had been a few years already that I had stopped trying to tell people about him, and just accept the creature as an imaginary friend. He was very mysterious, never talking about himself, and teenager me didn't care enough to ask. Teenager me liked having that comforting figure there, every night. Someone to talk to, someone to complain to, and share the nice moments. Teenager me was rather selfish.

 

But today, 20 years old me, wished I could've had more time with that angel, or asked better questions. Or at least said thank you. Because he deserved it, and I didn't realize why, until today. 7 days ago was when I last saw him, and for my own well being, I decided not to keep the memory of our last encounter in my head for too long, as it felt better to remember his beautiful smile. That day, I had simple worries on my mind, such as getting good grades in my university classes, or receiving my payment from my part time job, money that I was saving, so I could move out of my parents house soon. With those things in mind, I was coming back to my room in the middle of the afternoon, right before going to work, something I didn't usually do, as I liked to go my job straight after my classes, but this time I had forgotten something. Something that is now irrelevant. I heard those flutter of wings, a very familiar sound already, but it was unexpected in the afternoon. He only came at night. I turned to my open window, seeing a figure entering. This time he didn't just sit on my window sill, he stepped inside. I wanted to be happy about that, as I always asked him to come in, but something didn't look right. His wings looked so weak, dropped down low on his back, feathers falling, leaving some very sick looking wings. And when he looked up, I could see the wings matched his face, pale and hollowed, no smile on his lips. His eyes looked extremely tired, and their usual glow seemed to be fading. He looked sick, to say the least, but I knew he was dying.

 

"Are you okay?"

 

I idiotically asked, giving him support when he tried to step forward and tripped. Holding him like that in my arms seemed to turn my childhood believes into lies. Wasn't he strong? Wasn't he looking after me? The sudden inversion of roles made my head start hurting.

 

"I'm sorry, Baekhyun."

 

He started speaking, his voice deeper than ever, with his head hung low, hitting my chest, as I did my best to keep him up by holding his arms tightly. His wings moved quite tiredly, as if they were making a last effort.

 

"I did my best for you, but I couldn't go far. I'm sorry."

 

I didn't know what he was talking about, I didn't understand yet, and my head was really hurting. Tears started to roll down my cheeks, as I looked to him. Barely holding onto me, with trembling arms and legs, unable to look up, my angel was dying. In my arms, that beautiful creature was losing his magic, and hearing the flutter of his wings for one last time, I saw his body starting to glow, and vanish. The tears blurred my vision almost completely, but in contrast with the dark wood of my floor, I could see two white feathers, all that was left of him.

 

I easily fell into depression after that. I just didn't understand. I felt like my whole life I never really understood. I cried for a couple of days, a weird headache never going away. Of course, seeing my situation, my mom was concerned, and not long after I complained to her about the headaches, she took me to the hospital, and got me properly examined. It was quite a surprise to hear the doctor talk about a extensive brain tumor. It had been there, silently growing, ever since I was a child, according to him. That doctor seemed quite interested in me, especially trying to understand why such tumor didn't manifest itself earlier. As I saw his confusion, I had already understood. But I couldn't simply tell him I had an angel looking after me, because to grown ups, that wasn't a valid reason. They wouldn't understand.

 

My mom cried so much. A series of surgeries were planned, they would try to save me, even if it seemed like a hopeless situation. They were silly.

 

After the first surgery, I felt it. I was dying too. And I wasn't mad about, I accepted it. I felt thankful to my sweet guardian angel, who sat by my window every night, quietly keeping me company, the fluttering sound of his wings acting as my pacifier, as I went to sleep. He dedicated the end of his time to me.

 

Now that I know I'm going to die, I wonder if I could get a wish. I feel my minutes running away, and I want to carefully use them up, with only one request for the universe. Let him know how thankful I am. Thank him for letting me live more than what I was supposed to, letting me see and experience this world.

 

At last, I wonder if one day, our souls will meet. If they do, I want to properly talk to him, not as a silly child, or a selfish teenager, but as someone who loves him, and finally understands.