Lee Jinki.

Minho rolled over, waking up from the deepest slumber he has had in a while. He feels like he hasn’t slept for ages and last night could have been a year for all he knew. Eyes groggy, still adjusting to the light, and muscles in his limbs still numb, Minho sat up on his bed.

Why did that name sound so familiar?

Then, everything that had happened flashed in Minho’s mind like images being played back from an old movie. The images moved at the speed of light, barely leaving an imprint to make a sequence of events, but then again, it slowed at particular parts. A perfect set of teeth glistening behind scarlet buds, a pair of gleaming eyes boring holes right through his very soul and a smile. A smile so perfect that it was almost angelic.

It was angelic.

Minho caught himself from his wandering thoughts, bringing himself back to ground level. It was all in his imagination. Everything. He just had a very vivid dream last night. Nothing more, nothing less. All those features he remembered were of the girl he had been crushing on for so long. And as Minho kept repeating this to himself, the scarlet bud that hid those pearly teeth turned into a lighter shade of pink, the colour of her chapstick. The pair of gleaming eyes turned into feline slits that were sharp and the smile, into a gorgeous tug of lips in one corner, a smirk.

Minho got up and got dressed and went out for the longest jog he had ever taken in his life.

“Minho, where were you last night?” his mother piped up from behind the counter where she was boiling something.

“Here. In my room,” Minho answered her flatly. How could the woman not even notice that her son was home the entire time.

“Really? I didn’t realize…” she said, turning the stove off and moving away to get herself a bowl.

Of course, you wouldn’t. How could you hear me over your own voice and your husband’s loud shrieking?

Minho was being bitter but he felt that he deserved the right to be. He didn’t ask for much. Just a little attention once in a while to keep Minho going, to keep him from falling apart. But apparently, that was a bit too much to ask for.

A certain warmth filled the room and Minho recognized it instantly, his eyes meeting what he had expected to when he looked up.

Lee Jinki.

“You’re not feeling very happy this morning, are you?” Jinki said, more than asked because this man seemed to know everything about Minho without even him having to say it. It only added to the list of evidences that Minho has been collecting in his head to proof to himself that this man really was an angel (and inadvertently proving that he’s not crazy.) Among the other evidences were the searing people without touching thing and of course, being invisible to others. But this could all also mean that Minho is so ed in his head that he was having such livid hallucinations.

Minho preferred to think that it was the former, despite how girly of him it is to believe in mythical creatures. Not so mythical, apparently.

“How could I? I have an odd man tailing me and I am seriously beginning to doubt my sanity. And to top it all of, it seems to have slipped my mother’s mind that she bore a child some eighteen years ago that is all grown up now,” Minho muttered under his breath as he was grabbing himself a bowl full of cereals.

Yes, cereals. The colourful, childish ones that he bought when no one was looking at the store because men in leather jackets do not eat cereals, apparently.

“Your mother has been through a lot. She loves you but she doesn’t show it. She doesn’t know how to. Not unlike someone else in this very room,” Jinki said, perched on top of the counter top, swinging his legs very much in the same manner as last night. Minho’s eyes followed his mother’s figure as she left the kitchen carrying a bowl full of whatever it was that she has cooked. When she was finally out of earshot, Minho turned to the man in front of him who was looking into Minho’s bowl.

“Who’s guardian angel are you? Mine or hers? Who are your higher-ups? You need to be told on because you sure are doing your job all wrong!” Minho hissed to him, taking his seat and shoveling a spoonful of cereals in the most manly way possible into his mouth. He was also aware that he had ignored the insight Jinki had just provided about him being unable to show his love. Minho was not about to have a heart to heart talk with this annoying man.

Jinki chuckled, the action small and demure.

“Up until yesterday you were denying my existence and now, you are telling me how to do my job. You get more interesting with each passing day and I must admit that I am thoroughly enjoying this assignment,” Jinki said, flashing his shiny teeth. Minho had to look away before he was blinded.

Assignment. Minho scoffed at the word. That’s all he was, wasn’t he?

“It’s not my fault that you’re a terrible guardian angel!”

“And what is it exactly that makes a terrific guardian angel?” Jinki countered.

“I don’t know…” Minho said, shoveling more cereal into his mouth.

“But isn’t the general idea of having a guardian angel to be protected and have someone help you get through whatever struggles in your life? Not kick you when you’re down or take sides with the enemy. Also, I must stress that I have never once heard of guardian angels using physical violence to get their way,” Minho said matter-of-factly, moving his spoon around to emphasize certain points.

“Well, I guess you’re right. If you’re talking about most guardian angels, that is. But you see, I’m not most guardian angels. I am Lee Jinki. And about the violence, you have to admit yourself that it was totally called for,” Jinki said, eyes fixed to the contents of Minho’s bowl.

“Hey, isn’t violence the most antonymous with angels? How is it that you are getting away with beating up-“ Minho stopped midsentence in what he was saying when he saw that Jinki was still staring at the cereal in his bowl.

“What?”

“What does it taste like?” Jinki asked, innocent curiosity lighting up those already childlike eyes.

“W-what? My cereal?” Minho stuttered, taken aback by such a weird question. Jinki nodded eagerly.

“You’ve never eaten it before?-“ a shake from Jinki, “- Not even once?” Minho asked again, shocked that someone could have not tasted cereal even once in their life.

“Never.”

Minho was about to go on a rant about Jinki’s single-worded replies again when it finally registered what Jinki was insinuating.

“You can’t eat?” Minho asked. Jinki shook his head again, shifting his eyes from the bowl to Minho. Minho felt stupid for asking. Of course, someone like Jinki wouldn’t need to do something as trivial as eating to stay alive. Hell, was Jinki even qualified to be characterized as alive?

Minho should have felt jealous for an immortal life like any other human would have been. After all, wasn’t a life without death the most sought-after miracle. Instead, Minho found himself feeling sorry for the other. Because it can’t be all that good living forever, judging by the crestfallen look on Jinki’s face.

“Well, it tastes just like cereal,” Minho said, shoveling the last spoon into his mouth before throwing his bowl in the sink and moving to his room. Perhaps he was being quite inconsiderate because the other would never know what it’s like. But Minho didn’t like it. He didn’t like that he was feeling sorry for someone, especially someone that could end up being a figment of his imagination.

“Aren’t you going to clean up after yourself?” Jinki piped up. Minho ignored him blatantly, surprised that he was not physically abused by the time he left the kitchen.

Choi Minho never feels sorry. Not for his victims, not for his friends, not even for his parents.

“So where are we going today?” Jinki asked, from his place on Minho’s window sill.

“Nowhere,” Minho lied just because he could. He was actually thinking of visiting the new ice rink that has been opened in town. Meet up with his gang there, probably get wasted afterwards. Nothing out of the usual Saturday routines, to be honest.

“I may not be reading your mind any longer, but know that I am not dimwitted. I can see right through your lies,” Jinki said, seriously, his eyes fixed on Minho’s.

Minho sighed.

“The ice rink, alright?” Minho said, jumping off the bed where he had been lying the whole time to get changed. It’s still early but if he had to stay in here any longer than he had to with this angel, he might just really lose his mind.

Minho walked in town, seemingly alone when only he knew otherwise, with his hands in his pockets and eyes on the windows of every shop he passed. Occasionally, he came across kids from school that scampered away at his sight or girls that threw him flirtatious smiles if they were acknowledged by him. He ignored them today, although usually he would make a mental note to hunt down that kid that ran away in school or to meet up with one of those flirty girls.

Minho stopped walking abruptly when his eyes fell on a mesmerizing sight in one of the clothing boutiques. There she was, picking out clothes from a rack with her friends. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail so that Minh