Guardian Angel

Everyone sins in his or her life.

But some people sin more than the average. They are the sinners.

And Kim Himchan is one of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~°•°•

Everyone has a Guardian Angel but it's not exclusive. The winged friend only comes along when the mortal is in need of help. One angel has to take care of many mortals and the numbers depends on their capability. That is because there are not enough angels to give one mortal a special guardian, all to himself or herself. If it was that way, the world would probably have less pain and sorrow, less hate and more love because a Guardian Angel will never let his mortal get hurt.

And why are there not enough angels? These winged celestial beings were once humans too. They once walked the Earth on their feet, tasted the sweetness of the Earth's riches but they all die. And when people die, their souls go to Heaven, a place where all the spirits go to, whether you sin or not, whether you loved or hated in your mortal life. There is no place called Hell because the world has so much more love to spare. The ones who sinned more than the rest will roam their new celestial homes as average spirits and the ones who sinned less? They are appointed as angels, Guardian Angels. Being the ones with a bigger heart and more love to spare, the Guardian Angels will continue to give even when they have left their physical body. They descend upon Earth and touch a warming hand to their designated mortals' lives. But the mortal heart has gotten colder as each decade passes by, the numbers of winged angels declining with the passing of time.

One of the angels was just 19 when he died. He rode on his bicycle and there came the unexpected truck that smashed him into pieces, his Mama sat by his coffin and cried until her eyes almost went blind but he never frowns or frets. "Life is fun." He says, even when the sharp knife pierced through and cut his short-lived life at the age of nineteen. He always wears an optimistic smile on his face, a cheerful character in Heaven and probably the youngest most capable Guardian Angel in the whole celestial government. He watches over 37 mortals but he never fails to neglect any of them. Jongup is his mortal name.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•°•°

Himchan is a mortal man, a young age of 23, the son of a land tycoon. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Kim Himchan never has a day where the money in his pocket isn't enough. He leads a life with no worries. With an easy life, his falls cushioned and overlooked with his successes, Himchan does not know anything about hardship and neither does he know the value of compassion.

And Jongup the winged being just happened to spot the brash 23 year-old one fateful night.

"Hey what you looking at?"

Perched on one of the full billowy clouds, Jongup admires his newfound interest from atop until he is interrupted by his counterpart, Daehyun.

The other angel stretches his pristine white wings, the feathers brushing against each other in the night breeze, and lies down alongside Jongup, glancing down at the mortal world.

"Why, are you looking at that boy?"

"I think he is older than you when you died."

"Psh, obviously. But I'm definitely older. I don't suppose any human has lived to the age of 309?"

Jongup smiles at Daehyun's comment.

"Kim Himchan?" Daehyun queries. "Looks like a playboy to me."

"He is."

Daehyun grins. "You stare at him like that everyday?"

"Only during breaks."

"Well aren't you honest."

The two angels stare down at the brunette frolicking in the large azure swimming pool, the shape of a deformed peanut, as the human roars in laughter among the crowd in his gigantic mansion.

"Hmm. Let's see..." A book appears magically in Daehyun's palm and he rests it on the fluffy cloud before proceeding to flip through it with his chin in his other hand and one of his sides in the white foams. "Kim... kim... kim... Him---- Chan."

He examines the book, bored as he mumbles out the lines of detailed words and stops abruptly.

Jongup turns to look at Daehyun, his arms propped at the edge of the white cloud and a smile on his lips. Himchan just did a brilliant dive into his pool.

"What did you see?"

"Hmm." Daehyun crooks his mouth. "I don't think you'd want to see."

Jongup quirks a brow and pulls the book closer to himself. The book before him has its pages in its most maintained form, the pages as clean and white as the day it was created. It seems that the volume has only 300 pages at the most but when you go to the last page and flip through, you will find that the pages will never end until you get to the name of newest being born and the older pages will always disappear with each new sheet flipped.

"Kim Himchan, 1990..."

"Skip that part. Go on to Sins."

Jongup listens to Daehyun and flips to the next page. He flips through several more pages and Daehyun gives a knowing nod to his shocked expression when he looked up from the pages packed with tiny inscriptions, all the recorded sins of Kim Himchan.

"He can make a new volume all by himself, 'The Personal Sins of Kim Himchan'" Daehyun chuckles with bad humor while Jongup frowns at him.

"Pretty boy's a bad boy, it turns out." Daehyun sighs and lies down on his back, arms tucked behind his head of hazel brown hair.

Jongup knew not to judge any book by its cover but Kim Himchan is just appalling. He scans through the sins written in chronological order and shakes his head at every line before giving up at the half of the page. This boy walks trouble.

He has never seen anyone so bad and atrocious before, all the petty sins listed down before his eyes are making him retreat into a sad frown. Such a pretty face, but such an ugly heart.

"Hey, there are always other humans out there." Daehyun comforts a clearly upset Jongup.

"Execution day, 2 weeks 4 days 6 hours 23 minutes."

"What?"

"Execution day, 2 weeks 4 days." Jongup reads out the glowing line at the bottom of the page.

"What? Really?" Daehyun scoffs. "Even the DRs had enough of him."

Jongup watch as the seconds continue to run on the page.

'Himchan. Kim Himchan's going to die in 2 weeks.'

Both the angels peer down at the young man below them, oblivious to his pitiful fate.

How sad, such a young life that isn’t even half-spent about to end so soon, too soon.

Jongup sighs in pity for the misfortune of the boy with the face of a certain beauty he can’t describe. He glances down at the filled pages of sins under his hand and sighs again for the balance God strives to achieve with each creation of his. All the beauty possessed by that pretty-faced boy only went to his outer shell, what’s left inside is merely a cold, barren heart lacking of virtues.

But it’s such a waste, such a short-lived adventure, Jongup thought.

When he first came to Heaven, his guide whispered to him in a foreign accent that seemed somewhat like Indian as they walked out of the Government Building, having registered Jongup’s arrival. The man of chocolate skin told him in a hushed tone that his poor life was chopped up into two parts, 19 years and 62 years, and the latter portion thrown into the celestial rubbish bin all because that Guardian Angel of his dozed off during one of his patrols. Jongup’s heart of soul particles sank when he realized his death was merely the carelessness of the one who should’ve protected him. Maybe if that Guardian Angel came earlier and swerved him away from that large red truck, he wouldn’t have died under that merciless vehicle, his bicycle crushed into bits of metal scraps. He remembers how the particles of his soul shook when he looked down and saw his mother crying beside his coffin, claimed too early, the way she bawled her lungs and heart out made him hollow inside as well.

Jongup’s eyes follow the young male as he makes his way into the shelter of his mansion, accompanied by a crowd of houseguests.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•°•°

“It felt so real, it didn’t even feel anything like a dream!”

“You’re drunk, Channie~” The blonde-haired girl leans closer onto the younger master of the gigantic mansion, her fingers twirling in her golden locks in a flirty manner.

“No I’m not, babe.” Himchan gives a smile to the girl beside him, eyes smothering slightly. He turns back to the group, tone raised and energetic.

“It was this big!” He raises his arms and stretches them out as far apart as he could but he shakes his head when the length is not satisfactory. “I swear, it’s got to be 3 metres.”

He scans the pairs of curious eyes around him before adding dramatically, “At least.”

“You’re drunk, .” One of the boys in the group, lounging on the other couch beside the one Himchan is occupying, raises his glass of alcohol to his lips as he an eyebrow at an unfazed Himchan. The rest of the party explodes into laughter but Himchan smiles like the good host he is.

“Shut up, Zico, or get out of my house.” He, however, snaps a piercing glare at the man who just interrupted his story. “It was dark so I couldn’t see his face clearly but the wings, it’s incredibly huge!”

“Maybe the huge thing that got you so excited wasn’t only just the wings,” Zico continues taunting, fingers toying with the silver ring on his forefinger as he gives a smirk at his annoyed friend who is once again disrupted by his rude comments.

“Princess Himchan.”

The group’s laughter isn’t as loud as the previous one because the less popular kids know for their own good that Himchan doesn’t really fancy that old and overused nickname of his which he’d really like to bury deep down into the soil and let it rot forever inside there.

Himchan kicks Zico’s Armani-clad knee with extra fervor and ignores the victim of his merciless foot as one of the girls standing behind his couch asks cheerfully, “How does he look like?”

Himchan smiles at the dark hair beauty vibrantly. He loves it when people pay attention to his stories. “His face was hidden by the shadows. His back was facing where the moonlight came from. I can only see his outline but I’m sure it’s a guy.”

“God, Himchan, I don’t want to listen to your stupid dreams about an angel,” Zico drawls with a lack of patience. “and especially not a male one.”

Himchan returns the eye-roll.

“But I thought it was quite interesting.” The brunette who asked the question adds in and earns both a grin from Himchan and a glare from the blonde one beside them.

“How about we move on to the next party? Venue, my house.” Zico stands up, straightens his red-hot blazer and the rest of the party shuffles noisily, ready to continue their all-night fun.

“Aren’t you coming, Princess?” Zico twists the silver ring on his finger as he looks down at the laid back male on the long white couch, unmoving among the other busy people in the house.

“Nah, old man’s coming home tomorrow. Gotta sleep early.” Himchan grabs a bunch of the fur lining the surface of the couch as he slurs.

“Suits you. See ya!” Zico makes his way out, and the crowd follows with messy calls of goodbye to Himchan and the called man waves a lazy hand at the departing party people.

“You’re not coming, Channie?” The brunette from earlier plops herself down on the couch and asks with a pout, hand rubbing up Himchan’s shoulder. “Want me to stay and accompany you?” She suggests, the message obvious in her sly smiling eyes.

Himchan chuckles out loud at her bluntness but shakes his head. “No but thank you, sweetheart. I’ve got important things to do tomorrow and you look like a wild one.” He graces the tip of his forefinger under her chin and she accepts the teasing touch with a suggestive grin.

“Okay then. There’s still next time.” She whispers in his ear before striding out, heels clicking loudly.

Himchan sighs and sinks back into the soft cushion. He raises his glass of apple martini to his lips, hearing the soft click of the glass on his teeth in the now empty living room. He slides down the backrest of the couch until only his neck is leaning against it, his legs low near the wooden floor. Swirling the coloured alcohol in his hand, he lets his mind wander back to last night’s surreal fantasy of a dream.

It felt so real, he woke up searching for that figure in his gigantic house, but of course he found no one.

Zico was right, he was indeed drunk but Himchan knows what he saw and hallucinations from drunkenness aren’t that vivid plus, he usually forgets everything that happened when his mind is tipsy.

Those broad shoulders were hidden in the shadows of the large wings he had his eyes on for the whole time the man was standing before him. The moonlight was drenching in like translucent curtains in the dark as it tread through the gaps in between the thin feathers at the ends of the wings that were as dark as the night itself. The sight looked ominous and slightly frightening as the figure stood at his bedside, unmoving. But the voice that came out when he finally spoke.

Himchan knew he was an angel.

They say angels have a voice like bells that rang of happiness and the one he heard was like peaceful ripples, calming, soothing and he wanted to hear more of that wonderful sound. It was so lovely he sank back into his bed and closed his eyes, savouring the smooth voice of the chimes of distant bells with a smile tickling his lips until he drifted away in its warmth.

He woke up absolutely displeased by the loss of it.

Himchan always gets what he wants but this thing, this voice, where can he get it?

As rich and obstinate as he can be, Himchan can only hope for the appearance of his personal angel tonight. Maybe he shouldn’t drink so much alcohol. He smirks and sets down the fragile glass on the table in front of him. He should go up to the place they first met, his bedroom on the third floor with the large clear windows that let the Moon in.

Flopping down on his king-sized bed, Himchan grabs a handful of his cool silken sheets as he yawns a big one.

“See you soon, my angel…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•°•°

“Yah, you’re really doing this?”

“He already saw me.”

“What?!”

“I went to talk to him last night.”

“You what?! How could you?!” Daehyun starts a hysterical feat, white wings flapping anxiously on his back as he circles around Jongup, eyes hidden by a hand. “How can you reveal yourself to a mortal just like that?!”

“I want to help him.”

“For what? He’s better off being one of the souls here than committing sins down there!”

“It’s a pity to die so young!”

“I know how you feel because I died young too—“ Daehyun raised his voice at the last phrase but stops himself at the sudden outburst. “But there are many other people dying young too, he’s not special!” He stops and raises a questioning brow, “You have feelings for him, don’t you!”

“Wh-what?”

“Jongup-ah, it’s not worth it to breach the Celestial Laws for a little crush!” Daehyun emphasized the last word, eyes widening into goggles.

“It’s not a crush!” Jongup’s fists clench at his sides as he retorts but his uncontrollable cheeks seem to have given him away when Daehyun leans in with accusing narrowed eyes.

“Please, Jongup. Just pretend nothing happened and don’t ever do that again, alright? Maybe he’ll think it’s a hallucination or something and forget about it… I’m going on my patrol! Don’t you dare do anything stupid!” Daehyun warns before turning his back with a sigh and taking flight with a flap of his snow-white wings, leaving a few stranded feathers in his departure.

Jongup kicks the cloud beneath him indignantly, rousing up the lazy white fumes from the celestial floors with his black sneakers. He peeks at the diminishing figure of his friend before glancing around, stopping with a small grin on his face.

He really wants to help Kim Himchan.

He stretches his wings, the intense darkness of it lightening in a navy blue gradient at where the light of the large glowing Moon rests. He shakes his feathers a little before taking off in the opposite direction of Daehyun.

He admits, Kim Himchan is a little more special than the mortals taken under his care. Who is he lying to, obviously Himchan’s more than just a little special when he’s spending so much time watching over him even when the pretty face is not in his list of mortals.

He thinks Kim Himchan awakened that small part inside him where his human desires have been asleep for 106 years.

That face of porcelain elegance is not yet faded enough to be buried beneath the soils of the cold hard earth.

He comes to the same window; the translucent curtains a still behind the clear glass. It looks just the same as yesterday, the same scene, the same picture.

He gazes past the long window and spots the lovely figure right there at the same spot, almost like he was waiting for him. The Moon plays a mysterious stretch of shadows in the spacious room, and in between the Moon’s curtains lies the angel himself, peacefully asleep in his most beautiful form.

Jongup comes closer to the window, as if pulled in by the mesmerizing sight before him. He presses a hand to the cool window, the metal chilly against him. His eyes stay transfixed on the picture before him. Like an expensive painting, the scene stands still in a perfect match of tones, the focus of the exquisite art painted with expensive silvers and golds of the Moon’s colours, and Jongup is merely an admirer staring at the beauty of it through its frames. Lying tranquil on the glowing silk sheets as if doing so to allow the eyes of his secret admirer to roam his body, Himchan is a magnum opus created from the hands of God in Jongup’s eyes.

Pushing the cold metal with both hands, Jongup opens the window—the only entrance available for him still dangerously unlocked in the deepest of the night. He feels the breeze follow him in as he drops to the hard wood of the floor silently. He peers back, his large wings still at the other side of the wall. He retracts his feathers slowly and carefully, occasionally glancing at the sleeping beauty just steps away from his reach. His feathers brush against the metal frames as he takes a step forward, the cool surface scratching the soft wings slightly. He does not care to close the window for he has to leave after a short while. If he had chosen to fall in love with somebody who doesn’t have windows that large, he probably wouldn’t have come to this.

Cautious steps are taken towards the sleeping form before him and he takes care to follow the movement of his own shadow, so as to not cover the view with the darkness of his presence.

Up close, that skin of a fine porcelain’s fairness looks even more delicate than snow, like it would melt under his touch and disappear like a snowflake if he put a finger to that delectable softness. The Moon casts a seductive curl of shadows underneath the longer lashes. Everything looks more like a fantasy under the deceptive play of the Moon, what’s more when the object is already a fantasy itself.

Jongup lifts a finger to the lashes before him and touches it, feeling the soft curls against his skin, the solid, human touch of it. The enchanting one stirs and Jongup retracts his hand before realizing that he has already knelt down beside the awakening man without himself knowing.

Himchan groans softly and lets out a sigh from his throat as his consciousness seeps through his fingers and into him slowly. Jongup watches the long slender fingers trailing lines on the silken sheets beneath them and wonders how deep he’s fallen when he thinks the hand of his beloved is absolutely captivating.

Awakened by the reminded pact he made with himself to meet the Angel in his dreams tonight, Himchan forces his eyes open, his pupils catching the glow of the moonlight before roaming the open window and flowing curtains when he couldn’t find that reflected strip of light on the missing glass panel. His tired eyes are dried of their soaking urge to close immediately and his eyes search his room for that towering shadow over his bed.

Two pairs of equally shocked eyes meet for the first time.

And this time, Himchan is sure he isn’t drunk. He stares at the mysterious orbs before him, his sleepiness like lost sand in the wind. Those jet-black orbs are as dark as the colours of the wings he saw last night and he quickly looks for them, only to be disappointed when the magnificence is folded and hidden in the translucent shadows.

“Who are you?” Himchan says his planned lines hastily, afraid to lose the chance who knows when would come again.

The immortal before him speaks no words.

“Who are you?” He tries again, arms pushing himself up to sit.

“I’m your Guardian Angel.” The chimes of the ripples run down his spine like trickling warm water and Himchan shivers. He wanted him to talk but wasn’t ready for the otherworldly mask around it.

“Why are you here.”

“I have something important to tell you.” Himchan isn’t the only one with planned words.

Himchan sits up fully at the seriousness of his winged knight, his legs still stretched out before him. He examines the shadowed curves on the face of his mysterious guest, tracing his eyes on the gradient of his nose.

“Kim Himchan,” Said man swallows as his name is spoken. “You have 16 days to live.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•°•°

“Have you been misbehaving the while I was gone, Kim Himchan.”

“No, sir.”

“Then explain the crazy bills and pay receipts!”

Himchan rolls his eyes.

“Wait till you earn your own bucks then you splurge like a millionaire.”

“I am already a millionaire.”

“No you’re not, you’re a millionaire’s son.”

Himchan groans. “Come on.”

“Keep quiet. And you’re coming to dinner with me tonight. There’s somebody I want you to meet.”

“Oh god, not another bad attempt to match make me with another rich man’s daughter!”

“You shut up, Kim Himchan. It’s important for a man to have responsibility. And before you learn than virtue, I can’t hand you the million bucks.”

Himchan’s eyes roll yet again for he knows what that million bucks is, that company he has no interest to take over.

“Make sure you’re home when I return.”

Himchan sticks out a tongue as his father disappears out of the door.

He runs a hard through his dark maroon hair, letting out a breath through his nostrils as he examines the back of his hand, the spot still warm where he touched it. Anyone would have panicked when they learn that their death was approaching soon but Himchan feels no urgency to delay the day he cease breathing for that Guardian Angel told him he would do something to help. The voice was a calming wave, reassuring him as he sank back into the sheets, drifting away as he felt the back of his hand touched by gentle fingers.

The first thing in the morning he did was to pick up his phone and send generous portions of his bank’s plentiful resources to various charity organisations, he made