Ezekiel: My Guardian Angel

by dreamver2

Content enticements/warnings:

☀️

Four.

Today is the first time I see the boy in the corner of my room.

I don’t know how he got in here—and Mommy tells me not to talk to strangers—but he looks like a kid like me. He has white hair and big, blue eyes. Below them, he has round, chubby cheeks—the kind parents like to squish. Mommy and Renny don’t do that to me, but other mommies and daddies and rennies do when I go to the playground. The boy looks like a character from the cartoons I watch with Renny with how he doesn’t move and looks like he’s almost colored in.

Hey, is he the wolf from that fairy tale?

No, he has fluffy white wings. Maybe he’s an… Angle? Actual? Renny said it once. I’ll ask them later.

Leaning on walls covered in my crayon art, he stares at me and smiles. I think he looks nice; he’s not scary. Maybe Mommy was wrong about strangers.

I rub my eyes and yawn. It’s early in the morning, and as the sun gets in my eyes, I feel fussy—that’s what Mommy calls it—when I remember that I’m up so early to go to my first day of preschool.

I didn’t want to leave her and Renny behind, but she told me that I’d just go on a playdate and see her again. I like playdates and friends, so I nodded.

Hm, did she ask a friend to come?

I hope so!

I dart up from my bed and hug BaaBaa, my sheep plushie. I blurt out, “Who are you?”

Did I scare him? The boy looks at me the same way as when I see a spider, but he then grins. So he must not be upset!

Without walking up to me, he says, “I’m your angel.”

Ohhhh. Those were what Renny talked about.

“What’s your name?”

He doesn’t say anything. Aw. I don’t think he heard me.

I try again. “Did Mommy or Renny bring you here?”

He shakes his head.

Upset, I punch my bed. I just want to make a friend!

Oh, I know what to do!

Staring down, I play with BaaBaa’s fur before holding her out. “Do you want to pet BaaBaa?” I stick out my hand. “I promise she doesn’t bite! Pinky promise!”

The boy laughs and walks over. Finally! Nobody can resist BaaBaa.

But he doesn’t pet her. While he stands over me, he sets his finger on his lips. That’s what Renny does when they want me to be quiet, so I pretend to zip my lips.

He smiles, nods, and rubs BaaBaa’s head. “Can I make a different pinky promise?”

I think. “Will you be my friend?”

“Sure.” He holds out his hand. “My job is to protect you, so I wanna be your friend, too.”

“Yay!” I happily kick my sheets, and the boy backs away.

Grinning, he asks, “So let’s make our first promise?”

I nod a lot. “Okay!”

“I want you to go to school, make some good friends, and most importantly, don’t tell your mommy and renny about me.” He sits, and I scoot over. Then, his eyes meet mine. Up close, they look like the gems in Mommy’s necklace, and unlike my brown eyes, they sparkle. Pretty! He raises his pinky. “Promise?”

I don’t think twice before wrapping my pinky around his. “I won’t say anything! If I can make friends with you, I can make friends with anyone!”

As he stands, he’s still smiling. “Ezekiel.”

“Huh?”

“My name’s Ezekiel.”

“Ohhhhh. Ez… Eji… Kell… Can I call you Ezzy?” I whine and flail.

He pats me on the head.

I’m not a dog! I frown.

“Sure, you can—”

There’s a loud bang on my door, so I groan.

“Will I see you when I get home?”

As he nods, the door swings open.

“Are you ready for your first day of preschool?” Renny asks, and then they make that same I-just-saw-a-bug face. “Oh! I need to help you get dressed, sweetheart. Come here.”

While I look at Ezzy, he hides in his corner. He holds his finger over his lips again. I nod, but I don’t think Renny sees him. They give me a funny look and pick me up, dragging me to my closet to pick out some clothes.

Maybe today will be fun!

—

When I get home, I give Mommy a big hug and run off, shouting, “I’m gonna go talk to my new friend!”

She wears mittens to cook since Renny won’t be home until later and looks at me with a weird smile. “Oh, kids,” she mutters.

I slam the door to my room. “Ezzy! I’m back!”

He doesn’t say anything. I don’t even see him yet. Lifting my blankets and pillows, I look around.

“Ezzy? Where are you?” I hold up a pebble. “I wanna show you what I found on the playground!”

Outside the window, the sun falls in the sky. It’s now red and pink, unlike when it was blue at recess.

At last, I turn to the corner he stood in earlier. My mouth opens. He’s still there, but I almost can’t see him. All that color from before is gone; I spot part of the wall through him.

“Ezzy”—I gasp—“are you a ghost?”

***

Ten.

Ever since that day, Ezekiel and I haven’t talked very much. Actually, we haven’t talked at all. It seems like he’s always listening to me and smiling, but he never even opens his mouth. In a way, I feel like I’m talking to the wall; however, there’s something so comforting about him being there. He always looks so warm, and he’ll still answer with a nod or shake of his head. Across the room, he chuckles at my jokes, always appearing interested in my stories or wondering why I’m upset.

But still, he never speaks to me.

I pout.

Despite that, I think I’ve figured out a few things about him.

For one, Mommy taught me how to pronounce his name when I brought it up to her one night at dinner. I said his name was from a short story we were reading in class—I won’t break a sacred pinky promise—and she gave me a quick lesson a few years ago. I remember how I ran up to him, locking my door while jumping more than a kangaroo. Over and over, I yelled, “Ezekiel!” I was so proud of myself, and he must have been, too; I had never seen a brighter smile on his face, which shone like the midday sun.

Speaking of the sun, I think Ezekiel must be its child or something. See, the day I met him, I cried for a few hours about how I thought he disappeared forever. I was convinced he was a spectre that had passed on, but I didn’t say all this to Renny when they came to comfort me. The next morning, I woke up, spotting Ezekiel’s big grin again. I was so relieved that I almost tackled my wall and woke my parents up, but until recently, I never understood when he would be here and thought he would come when he wanted.

Well, I still don’t get how it works, but I think Ezekiel has this weird pattern where he appears fully at dawn and fades slowly until dusk. I’ve never seen him at night. In a way, I hate this; school takes up so much of the day that I barely have time to see him before he goes away, and I have to wake up early just to tell him good morning without Renny or Mommy barging in.

When are they going to let me lock my door, again? I’m a big kid now!

I’m sure Ezekiel has many more secrets, but I love learning things about my closest friend. One day, maybe he’ll tell me funny tales I can laugh about, or maybe I can make him feel better if some kid at his school says something mean to him. (Does he even go to school? This is the kind of detail I mean…)

Anyway, knowing what I think I do, I try waking up at dawn on Saturdays and Sundays so that I can see him and tell him more stories. This is more true lately since I’ve been sadder than before. Mommy says it’s this thing called puberty and that I’m moody because of something called hormones, but this all just feels… off. And in a way that I can’t really describe. I wish I had the words for it, yet all I can do is zip up my hoodie and head off to school each day without a solid answer. (Yes, even in the summer!)

Getting to talk to Ezekiel… It doesn’t fix everything, but it definitely makes it all more bearable. I can tell him anything without being made fun of.

As always, I’m sure he won’t respond, yet today, once I’ve brushed my teeth, changed out of my pajamas, and greeted BaaBaa, I try asking, “Ezekiel, can I bring you somewhere? I’ve told you about it before, but I’ve always wanted to bring you there. My other friends haven’t even seen it.”

I sit on my bed and slump more than usual. Looking away from him for a brief second, I reach for the string to open my blinds and watch the sun ascend as the rosy hues begin to fade. Captivated by the scenery and the accents of brown winter leaves, I’m surprised when…

“I’d love to go somewhere with you,” Ezekiel says, and instantly, my cheeks heat up.

After all this time, I’m completely shocked to hear his voice—now somewhat deeper—grace my ears.

“Really?” I jump to my feet. “You can talk to me now?”

Although I’m unsure about which question he’s answering, he nods to me as his face lights up.

Given the chance, I don’t hesitate, knowing I can ask all my questions once we arrive; I grab his hands, tell my parents goodbye, and charge out the front door into the cool breeze, both of us smiling and giggling.

—

“Ezekiel, do you have any other friends?”

“No.”

“Do you go to school?”

“No.”

“What?” I yell while kicking a pile of leaves. “Do you only sit in my room all day?”

Silently, he starts to nod but corrects himself. “Almost.”

While I cock my head to the side, I’m still confused.

Presently, we lay under the shade of a tree near the edge of the nearby park, hidden slightly by the side of a hill that most younger kids avoid. I found this place by journeying beyond it when my other friends weren’t looking, and I giggled in excitement, knowing how badly I wanted to bring Ezekiel here, wishing upon the stars that he would tag along. It seemed like the kind of quiet, secluded place he would enjoy, and I believe my previous guess is true by how he seems to revel in the ambience of the outdoors. (Big words!)

We’ve created leaf angels—Ezekiel thinks they’re funny—and we now face the sparse branches that hide the sun’s rays. Our arms rest against each other, his wings tucked oddly under him, and Ezekiel turns his head—as do I—so that we look at each other.

“Remember how the first thing you asked me was: ‘Who are you?’”

Feeling my face go red from embarrassment, I nod. I was kind of a dumb toddler, but I think anyone would say that about themself. “You said you were an angel. You wouldn’t even tell me your name!” I laugh and point at him, poking his cheek. “Stingy!”

He smiles back before turning serious. “I said I was your angel. There was more I wanted to tell you, though, but I couldn’t say it because we were so young.”

My angel. That gave me a fuzzy feeling when I recalled how he worded that.

“Can you tell me now?” Scanning his face for signs of discomfort, I continue, “I’ve always wanted to know more about you.”

“Where should I start?” Thinking, he rolls onto his side, letting his wings fall free in the space behind him. “Well, if you want to know who I am, I’m a guardian angel. It’s my job to watch over and protect you. I’m like a mirror to you.”

“And you do that from the corner of my room?”

He shrugs and shifts himself onto an elbow. “Sorta. I follow you around during the day, so I see all the things you do at school and with your other friends. I saw this place once before.”

I frown. He ruined the surprise!

A million questions come to mind, but one sticks out. “Does everyone have an angel?”

He shakes his head. “Just a few people.”

“Huh. That’s pretty weird. Guess I’m lucky.”

With a smile, he says, “Maybe.”

“Wait, wait. I have another question.”

He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t say a word.

So I ask, “Why do you go away during the night?”

“It’s just a rule and how I am.”

That simple? What kind of weirdo makes a rule like that?

“And the not talking?”

He swallows. “Also a rule. But sometimes”—he looks me dead in the eyes—“it’s more rewarding to break the rules than follow them.”

I hum. “So… just like a principal? Mine says we can’t bring plushies to school, but I still bring BaaBaa!”

A chorus of laughter follows, and we roll around the grass as we ask questions, joke, and tell absurd stories. We’re out here all day, so by the time the sun begins to set, I can see the leaves and plants through Ezekiel. It’s unbearably cold out here, and goosebumps cover my skin despite me wearing a hoodie. Ezekiel seems unbothered by the temperature change. I envy him.

“Are you cold?”

Sniffling, I nod as I wrap my hands around my body. I’m willing to power through this if it means I can have a few more minutes with Ezekiel.

As I’m shifting in place and shoving my hands in the front pocket of my hoodie, something warm and bony comes across my body, and upon glancing over, I recognize it as Ezekiel’s arm.

Oh, the other one slides under me and turns me so that Ezekiel and I face each other.

He’s… hugging me. Somehow, I don’t mind this and even welcome it, especially as the chilly night settles in. In return, I wrap my arms around him. His warmth is all I need to stop shivering in the twilight.

We make eye contact, and the yellowish tint of the sky decorates Ezekiel’s face, making his pale skin vivid and shiny. We’re so close that his breath tickles my cheek. Right then, I realize how we’ve grown up together. While we used to be around the same height, he’s barely taller than me now. Still, we look about the same age.

But when he said he was my mirror… I can oddly see it. He has a similar facial structure with features that are shaped to match mine, but his are more chiseled and angular.

I’m… jealous of that.

But I distract myself by whispering, “Hey, what do your wings feel like?”

Snorting, he moves his wing forward so that I can touch it. Soft, silky feathers filter through the gaps between my fingers as I realize that I’ve never felt anything quite like them. I’ve touched chicks in my science classes, but none of them seemed as gentle as Ezekiel’s feathers. I’m in awe.

“Like that.”

I leave my hand on his wing and gently stroke it as if it were hair—only, it’s far more fascinating. As the moon dominates the sky, our moments together dwindle until the sun completely sets, giving way to the navy sky. Ezekiel remains in my embrace, slowly becoming invisible.

I don’t have the words for anything beyond “best friend,” but I know it in my heart: Ezekiel is… someone special to me.

Is he… my best-est friend?

Wait, I don’t wanna sound like a kid anymore!

—

The next day, Mommy sits me down at the dinner table, and while tilting my head, I’m curious and worried.

She says, “This morning, Mr. Roberts called and said he heard you talking to yourself at the park and was concerned. You were laughing and shouting, and a bunch of people glanced over.”

In her voice, I hear that subtly worried and disappointed tone—the same one she uses when she sees my report card. I don’t say anything to her. She’s scary when she’s like this; it’s not like she lashes out, but sometimes, disappointment stings harder than a spanking.

“Dear?” She grabs my hand. “Can you tell me what was going on?”

My other hand is balled up in my lap, sweating. I avert my eyes and stare at the grains of the mahogany table. I shouldn’t feel ashamed to talk to her, but I know this is something I can’t tell her. It’s like my throat is being clenched—like I’m breathless in PE class. No words come out, even as my mouth opens, and I’m nauseous.

“Sweetheart, what’s wr—”

A hand lands on her shoulder.

Renny says, “Relax, Bella. Kids that age can still have imaginary friends.”

The sickness is gone, but a lump in my throat replaces it. I nod along as we laugh it off—that strange, twisted look still on Mommy’s face.

Imaginary… I pretend to agree.

But Ezekiel is as real to me as Mommy and Renny…

And I’d do anything to stay around him…

***

Fourteen.

Since then, Ezekiel answers me at least a few times a day, sometimes holding a full conversation. As these chats go on, I’m increasingly drawn to him. It’s so easy to get lost in words and thoughts, and I often find him disappearing as quickly as he seemingly appears.

And then I sleep and repeat the cycle. It’s like life and rest and all those other responsibilities are placeholders that keep me from conversing with him, obstacles that I must conquer to receive an audience. Even stranger, I notice how time passes in intervals, how the hours rapidly turn into days and then weeks, and before I know it, I’ve done little else than seek him despite protests from my parents and friends that I’m becoming too much like a hermit.

What’s even better is that he lets me bring him somewhere every month. We’re usually limited to isolated spots like behind buildings or under bridges, but that’s a small price to pay to go on an adventure with him.

I’ve since gotten smarter about hiding these trips. And when I got a phone, the excuses came from my mouth as they would a factory.

“Ah, Mommy,” I would tell her, “I just had some wireless earbuds in and was on a call with my friends.” It was hard for her to argue with me, and I would explain to her that I was using a different app when she wondered about the call log.

And anyway, isn’t it weird that she seems to have spies all over town? It’s like I can’t go anywhere without getting called a delinquent. With this anxious tightness in my chest, I resent Mommy for always surveilling me, and even Renny asks her to calm down and let me be a teenager.

At least, today’s another one of those lovely days when I can go out with Ezekiel. To get dressed, I wake up before daybreak so that he doesn’t get to see me before I do. I open my closet and inspect its contents like I’m preparing to go on a date, blushing slightly at the thought while glancing at the mirror.

He’s my… best friend. He’s special. That’s why I feel like this. Everyone wants to constantly be around their best friend.

I put on the binder Renny got me and layer it with a graphic t-shirt from my favorite band. Pulling on a decent pair of slacks, I tuck the shirt in until it bulges out and grab a snapback, positioning it so that the lip faces behind me. My parents might question, but I can always lie my way out. Knowing I’m about to have the time of my life, I smile at my reflection and wink.

When I exit my closet, I spot Ezekiel. He grins and greets me for the morning with a wave, still in his regal white and gold attire. (I almost wonder if he ever cleans or changes out of it.)

“Are you ready to go? I think it’d be cool to stop by the bubble tea cafe and hit up the schoolyard.”

“I’d love to,” he replies. “Are… those the drinks you always bring home with you?”

“Yeah! I think you’ll love them. You like milk, right?”

Moving from his perch, he walks up and places his arm around my shoulders to hug me. He nods.

“Great,” I say, and I wrap one arm around his waist. “Let’s get going then! The day is young.”

He laughs at the overused idiom as I reach for the doorknob, completely ecstatic. Yet I have a bad feeling as I carefully turn it and peek around the door.

“Kazuhiko,” Mommy says, and I get a little excited about being called that name before my stomach sinks. “We need to talk.”

I remove my arm from Ezekiel so that she doesn’t get suspicious, though I see him grimace. “Can it wait? I wanted to go out today.”

She shakes her head. “Table. Now.”

Wondering why she’s even up—heck, she’s still wearing pajamas and a fluffy rabbit headband—I then follow her orders, signalling to Ezekiel that I’ll return when I’m done. As I sit, he retreats to my room.

“Aiden called me last night.”

“Okay?” With a twinge of teenage sass, I couldn’t care less.

She lifts her eyebrow. “That’s all you have to say?” Pressing her lips together, she then sighs. “He said he hasn’t hung out with you in months, Kazuhiko. Months. I… don’t know what happened with you two. You used to be so close to him in elementary school.”

“That was then.”

“He’s still your friend. Unless he did something to you.”

“He didn’t.”

Rubbing her temples, she asks, “Then, why are you acting like this?”

Because there’s someone I want to give that time to instead.

“No reason.” I shrug.

She scolds, “What in the world are you doing today?”

“Seeing the great outdoors.”

“With who?”

Why is she so freaking skeptical?

“Myself. But why should it matter?” I stand and hit the table. “Why do you always have to hover and make decisions on your own for me? Don’t you think that’s too much? You track me—you take all kinds of phone calls—but instead of suspecting the gossip, the only person you don’t trust is me.”

Well, any hopes I had of not being “out of line” or a “liar” are completely washed down the drain.

“Kazuhiko, don’t you dare talk to me like that.” She holds out her finger and yells so loudly that I’d be shocked if Renny doesn’t wake up. “I care about you and that you have a decent social life. I know you like to go out and talk to your little imaginary friend, but one day, you’re going to have to live in the real world.”

And that’s when I lose it.

“Ezekiel isn’t an imaginary friend!”

I turn and glance over my shoulder at Ezekiel, his face alight in shock and pain. He looks as if he wants to cry, and he twists and balls up on himself, hiding his face. I can’t let Mommy see it, but I feel as if I’ve been stabbed in the stomach repeatedly. I want to vomit.

I… didn’t mean to betray Ezekiel.

It seems our journey for the day is cancelled. And every single one after.

***

Eighteen.

Surprise, surprise—losing it was where I screwed up. Somewhere along the line. It almost feels like yesterday, but as these psychiatric appointments drag on, I’m fully aware that my concept of time is completely out of whack.

“Kazuhiko,” my mom implored me a few years ago, “I’m going to bring you to talk to someone.”

At first, I remarked that I already talked to my gender therapist often, but she wasn’t having it.

Bells chime like I’m walking into a diner. Only, I’m entering a psychiatric office, a warm, cozy building that stinks of disinfectants, as if the employees are scared of catching the “crazy”; I promise it’s not contagious, and if anything, the patients hurt more. Ezekiel asked to come along, and while I know it’s some patient privacy thing to not invite anyone in, I don’t have anything to hide from him (and it’s not like Dr. Jones can see him, anyway).

But ever since I was fourteen… Ezekiel has been distant from me, like a watchdog rather than a friend, talking to me only when he wants and staring otherwise. I… loathe what I did; I’d do anything to go back to how we used to be, and just being asked to bring him somewhere—like old times—makes me jumpy and elated.

Minutes later, I’m sitting in a soft leather chair as Dr. Jones—a shrewd-looking, middle-aged therapist—stares me down while grasping a notepad. Without directly stating it, in that fancy way psychiatrists tend to do, she asks me about seeing and hearing things: ringing, rustling…

Random voices. Whole people.

He’s looking at me right now, I want to tell her, but I know I’ll get some kind of diagnosis. Well, one apart from the ones she’s already throwing onto me. I concede that I have some issues with depression and dysphoria, but to say that I’m hallucinating… I don’t think that’s true, right?

Every time I come here, I tell myself that nothing is false about my reality, but I always become a little less convinced by my convictions.

Maybe… Ezekiel isn’t real?

But the puppy-dog stare from the teenage boy resting on the arm of the chair leaves me conflicted.

—

“Ezekiel?” I call out when I wake up on a Sunday morning, the crisp summer light arriving earlier than before. Not receiving a response, I ask, “Can I talk to you? Can I hug you?”

My eyes are still blurry and full of crust, so I wipe them on the sleeve of my t-shirt before resting on my arms, searching for the angel. I feel sorta numb again, and though his silence is frequent, it doesn’t hurt as much these days because I know to expect it.

And I know that he’ll still answer me, even if I have to ask repeatedly.

After my vision settles into partial clarity, I notice Ezekiel standing in the corner as always, form vivid like at every sunrise. His expression is blank as he crosses his arms and remains in a relaxed posture. It’s almost like he doesn’t see me—or is blatantly ignoring me.

I approach him, saying, “Hey, Ezekiel.” Like an old friend. Like I never made a mistake.

He still says nothing, so I decide to reach out. I’d love to hug or kiss him—there’s nobody more special to me than him, and that hasn’t changed—but if his mood is poor, I suppose a tap on the shoulder will suffice.

Putting my hand in motion, I expect some kind of warmth or coldness—yes—but neither? What in the world? I swat my arm around and swallow as I confirm my suspicion and tap the wall.

Now, I can’t touch Ezekiel anymore.

My rock. My lifeline. I can’t so much as feel or talk to him now.

Was everyone else right all along? That he’s a figment of my imagination?

Before Mommy and Renny barge in, I scream and cry in horror, backing away.

But after driving everyone away, even my friends, who or what can I turn to besides my own mind if that’s the case?

***

Twenty-one.

Some idiot once told me the college years are the best ones.

Fat chance.

Traversing the streets outside the campus, the barrage of a winter blizzard hints at its arrival, hailstones bouncing off a few dormant cars under the dim lights. It’s early morning, and I’ve been out all night. I couldn’t sleep, so I took a walk. My brain either races with thoughts or is devoid of them, alternating at the worst of times like when I want to rest or ace a test.

I stand beside a streetlight, treating the pillar like my companion after I press the button for the crosswalk. The entire world is still like winter froze time, making me think I can jaywalk, but the blinking numbers that count down the seconds until I can cross remind me that the world doesn’t stop for me.

I’ve been… so lonely these days. Yeah, I have friends, but there's nobody who… gets me. There’s no Aiden. There’s no Ezekiel.

There’s only me. With my screwed-up head, I still watch that guardian angel sometimes, but I like to pretend I don’t see him. Two can play the silent game, yet every time I think of this stalemate, I’m on the verge of crying.

For goodness’ sake, I miss him, and all I want is for him to forgive me. But like anyone else, I have to live with the consequences of my actions. Regret tastes bittersweet.

I unconsciously find my vision cloudy as tears fill my eyes. I can’t fall into this cycle again. I need to get home.

Glancing at the timer and making out a zero, I step onto the street and head in the direction of the dorm.

God, I want to talk to Ezekiel.

I want to tell him that stupid me… finally realized I love him.

But I lost my chance a long time ago.

And I’m not some fictional lottery winner who gets to go back and fix everything.

Burying my face in my hand to wipe my tears, death itself resounds: the screeching of a car hitting its brakes just a little too late.

Heh.

It’s funny how I kinda deserve this, and I don’t even try to move. There’s no way I’m outrunning the grim reaper.

As I wait for pain to overcome my body, my eyes shut.

But as much as I anticipate it—welcome it—it doesn’t come.

I’m pushed aside by a gentler object, and my body recognizes the touch as the warmth I’ve been craving.

I open my eyes as those butterflies from years ago return.

Ezekiel has me in his grasp like a fairy tale prince, and when the shock dissipates, I can’t help but grin. With the car long gone, the timer on the side of the road hits zero, and I realize that I misread the ten-second mark.

But Ezekiel… saved me.

“Are you okay?”

Thinking about how much I missed his voice, I almost cry again.

I nod before addressing the elephant in the room. “Why… Why all of a sudden?”

“I was upset with you for a while,” he responds, somehow piecing together my babbling before letting me stand with just his arm around my waist, “but a lot of it had to do with me violating the rules again.”

“The ones about interacting you told me about?”

“That was also a lot of it.”

“But why now?”

“Kazuhiko, if you never realized this before, I’ll break any of the laws of this world to protect you.” With our eyes at the same level, he pulls me closer and cups my face, making me realize how rosy my cheeks are in the cold and how nice his palms feel. “From when we were children, I fell in love with you, and I never wanted to see you be sad. And I overstepped. I caught feelings—got closer than I should have. And we both made mistakes, sure, but I promise I’ve been watching over and hearing you all this time.” Like when we were kids, he jokingly holds out his pinky. “And this time, I’m going to break another rule.”

At his sudden confession, I’m absolutely rattled and blushy—so surprised that it doesn’t fully settle with me that he’s leaning his face closer to mine, closing his eyes.

I know I should be mad at him.

I know I shouldn’t forgive him with just a simple explanation.

But I’ve missed him so much, and we can talk about all that later.

I lean towards him. As the morning arrives, we kiss underneath the burgeoning spotlight of the sun with Ezekiel in his full, opaque glory.

Right then, I’m sure there’s nobody I love more than him.

“And Kazuhiko,” he finishes while I’m still too stunned to speak, placing my arms around his shoulders, “I’m as real as you want me to be.”

🌑

 

Author's Account:

dreamver2

Author's Note:

In case it isn't clear: I'm using renny as a term for a non-binary parent. :)

Gotta love joking a bunch of times to my girlfriend that I'm going to eventually write a BL story with an angel in it... and then doing it at last. What can I say? Angel wings are very nice. I'm also a fan of the Psychological/BL genre combination, so I wanted to try my hand at it.

Writing this was all kinds of weird with the present tense, vignettes, and gradually increasing the maturity of the narrator, but I think I got it to work--eventually. Some parts are a little rushed for my liking, but I'm usually hopelessly long-winded.

For a mini-promotion: There's some NBLM and BL in this if you stick around for a while (See You in Sunny Dreams), but I'm working on getting some more BL works up... at some point.

Thanks for reading this short story! :D I hope you enjoyed it, and let me know what you thought about it!

~dreamver2