#WINGS. FEATHERS. FLUFF. hard to draw | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moonchildstyles · 2 years ago

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columba

harry is a new guardian angel and he wishes he could save (y/n) from herself

this is also a patreon exclusive with this first part the only publicly available part!

—————

Cotton clouds greeted Harry when he opened his eyes, cool dew coating his lashes. Deep breaths filled his lungs with the chilled air, his body coming alive the more he woke up. Moonlight poured over his back, the flexing of his muscles bringing about a flutter of the large feathered wings that sprouted from between his shoulder blades. He was aware of the strength of his limbs as he moved to sit up within the puffs of clouds despite his wobbly movements. Gazing skyward, there was a sheer layer of cloud cover above his head, majority of the puffs making up the new home he found himself in.

Stretching his hands out in front of him, he flexed his fingers, spying the ink on one of his hands. Trailing his gaze up his arms, more pictures were etched into his skin, varying in size as they went up his bicep. Peeking down at his chest, his wings spanning wide behind him, more drawings stained his skin—a stark contrast to the creamy hue of his skin and the cotton clean clouds cradling his body. Standing to his unstable legs, a low slung draping of fabric covered his hips, swaying in a breeze he didn't feel.

Harry wasn't even fully familiar with the space around him or his own body before he felt a pull in his chest. Barred behind his ribcage, a hollow ache formed, urging him to go somewhere—find something. A part of his existence was missing, fallen below somewhere during his creation.

That hollow ache had a plan, pushing him to flutter down from the clouds, to utilize the spanning length of his wings and find what would fill the phantom hole in his chest. He was no pro as he moved, his awkward, pigeon-toed steps leading him through the tufts until he sunk through the clouds like a trapdoor had opened under his feet. The ground fell out from under him, free falling for a split second before instinct took over. The gold-flaked and opal tipped wings fanned out behind him, catching him from plummeting before he was guided by the desire that was beginning to overshadow ache in his chest—the desire to find wherever it was the divine forces wanted him to be.

Cities sparkled like stars beneath him, bright lights with bustling movement. He was sure if he listened hard enough, spared any extra concentration from focusing on his journey, he could hear the chatter of the world below him. What a wonderful thing to see, he thought, a short smile on his lips. Other people were starting their lives just the same way he was, no matter if he had feathers sprouting from his back. Maybe others were looking for their purpose just as he was.

Following the pull in his chest, Harry glided above the world, feathers fluffed around him with his hands dipping towards the clouds above him. His confidence grew the longer he flew, the closer he grew to whatever he was searching for. He was close.

While the flight could have taken hours, Harry felt as if he was in the air for no longer than a handful of minutes. Wonder at everything made the time fly. Too soon, it all came to a halt. That ache in his chest bubbled over, alerting him he was just where he needed to be. Down below, city light was lacking, leaving him with the view of a small town. He hovered in the air for a moment, the fluff of his wings keeping him afloat until he succumbed to the draw to investigate further.

His bare feet landed on the pavement, the first truly solid ground he'd touched on. The clouds above definitely didn't feel this rough against his skin. A neighborhood surrounded him, strings of houses lining a quiet street. Some were completely dark, signs in the yard advertising open houses and renting plans, others were completely lit up within, the inhabitants concealed by closed curtains.

At the sound of others outside with him, a muffled gasp escaped Harry's lips when he found a couple approaching their mailbox. He was sure they were to see him if they hadn't already—he was hard to miss with his moonlight wings and almost bare body. But, as their eyes drifted over him, their conversation continuing without a missed beat, he realized they couldn't see him. Even when he tested his theory with a large stretch of his wings, fluffing his feathers, not a single eye blinked in his direction.

His muscles grew lax as they went about their business, his wings coming to rest in a bundle behind his back. He was sure his heart would have broken if he had made it this far only to be thwarted this close to finding his purpose. Despite the confirmation he was invisible to those around him, he still stepped carefully and quietly in whatever direction his heart was guiding him.

As soon as he came across a small cottage on the edge of the winding suburb, the void in his chest filled until he was almost sure his skin would be glowing just over his heart. It was a little rundown compared to the rest of the houses lining the street, but it was cute—quaint, even. The perfect place for someone to start their life.

He wasn't even aware he was inching towards the house for a closer look until he noticed the blades of grass tickling under his bare feet. The front yard depleted as he approached the small wooden porch, a warm glow emanating through the earthy colored curtains covering the front window. A bit of guilt followed after him as he took a chance and peeked through the small gape between the two drapes. He just wanted to know why he was so drawn to this space.

Inside, just barely within his view, Harry spotted a woman. Her back was to where he was standing, hair in a messy pile on her head with mismatched sweats covering her body. She was in a kitchen, cooking something, though the television in the living room was still on with the volume loud enough to hear over the sizzling of pans and the clicking of her knife on the cutting board. His eyes were glued to her as she glanced out towards her living room to catch whatever was playing out on her TV, catching a glimpse of her profile.

Seeing her, finding the silhouette of her features despite the fly-away hair obscuring the details, he was sure there had never been a more divine creature to be created. This was exactly where he was supposed to be, he realized when his heart went contentedly silent, curling his hands around the sill of the window.

Watching her dealing with the pan on the stove and her chef's knife limp in her hand, Harry began to grow worried. She shouldn't be holding something so sharp so carelessly. That worry only multiplied when she half returned her attention to the tomato she was dicing on her cutting board. Her chopping returned in slow strokes of her knife while her attention was split, Harry's bottom lip being worried between his teeth. Her fingertips were too close to the blade and she wasn't even watching properly.

It came to a head when she whipped her head around to face her sizzling pan, her hand not slowing despite the lack of tomato being fed to the swishing knife blade. In a blink, her fingertips were too close for comfort, a breath away from feeling the brunt of the knife sinking through her skin. He reached out, fingers just about to press into the glass of the window as if he could stop her himself.

In the same moment that he wished he could help her, he saw as the knife glanced off a nub of the taut tomato skin just right and slid down before settling on the cutting board. The missed slice caught the woman's scattered attention, causing her to release the knife and jump back before looking down at her hands. Her fingers were stretched out in front of her, a breath of relief leaving her lungs as she took stock of the lack of injuries marring her hands.

Harry watched as she flapped her hands out as if to shake away the remaining shiver of what could have happened if not for the divine intervention that struck. Something clicked in place when he realized why he had been led here in the first place.

He was the divine intervention that kept her safe—this was his purpose. She was his purpose. Everything made sense then as he pieced it all together.

He was her guardian. An angel sent from above, created to care for her and keep her from joining the realm of the clouds before her time. Though it had barely just begun, Harry already had the happiest moment of his life catalogued.

Now his existence could begin.

—————

(Y/N) let out a deep breath as she bundled deeper into the softened quilts on her bed. Her room was dark now that she'd flicked off the bedside lamp with her current read tucked away. The only point of light filling the room came through the filmy curtains covering her window. Waning moonlight glanced off of the falling flakes of snow with the cover already on the ground sparkling like the stars in the sky. Her room was draped in the cool light, hazy and dreamy to compliment the melancholy joining her under the covers that night.

She knew it was never a good idea to bring her phone to bed with her. The screen use messed with her dreams anyway, but it definitely didn't help when she still didn't have a reply waiting for a message she'd sent the day prior. Her latest date was terribly polite, and blandly kind, but even that couldn't hide the way he was avoiding her. (Y/N) had to have been blinded by the attention from someone so kind and thoughtful during that date, otherwise she would have seen his lack of interest coming—should have seen it coming, anyway.

More than anything, the lack of interest was another tear at her already tattered heart. She wasn't in love with him, or had any delusions of grandeur tied to this man specifically, but she couldn't deny the hope that had ignited in her heart over the possibilities. It was the same hope that fluttered in every time she put herself out there and managed to schedule a date with someone.

Hope that this could be someone—the one. Someone she could grow comfortable and be herself with, without the pretenses of who she used to be. It was one of the secret reasons she had planned such a large move away from home in the first place. She wanted to be somewhere where no one could bring up stupid things she did in high school, embarrassing peaks in middle school, or her childish antics when she was a kid. She hoped that she could be herself, the person she had grown and crafted herself into, out here. But maybe that was the problem.

No matter who she seemed to be, she ended up alone.

She was the one that ended up with an empty phone and empty bed, needing to escape through her books, or work, or any distraction she could handle. She'd never been more herself than she was in these past few months since moving from her parents' home, and she'd never faced so much rejection before. Maybe that was why it hurt so much; no facade was being rejected, just her real heart on her sleeve.

Even her new job wasn't the kind of dream she had led herself to believe in. The focus on not making any mistakes on the new work, and familiarizing herself with the office kept her from bubbling in on the conversations with her coworkers. It was too late now to make a breakthrough and join one of the cliques that made up her department. This was the one place she had been hoping to make some friends, but it seemed she had run that dry before she even realized there was running water to be enjoyed.

(Y/N) was lonely.

There was so much love within her that she wished, and hoped, and prayed she could give to someone someday. She wished she could be someone worthy of falling in love with.

Sucking in a deep breath as she forced her eyes closed, eyelids lit up from the moonlight, she pushed herself to quit thinking. It wasn't productive to spiral over all the things she didn't have, even if those things were friendship and love. If she kept up this train of thought, she was going to cry herself to sleep and that wasn't going to help a single thing.

A centering breath allowed her to open her eyes with a peek at the moon. Stray clouds drifted over the fraction of the moon remaining in the sky with the needle pointed stars embellishing the dark. A game she played to take her mind elsewhere had her drawing shapes in the fluffed clouds. Strawberries and castles, puppies and ivory dresses were pinned in the sky. She even could pick out what she could make out to be a set of feathery wings as the cloud swam across the waning moon.

Maybe these were her only friends, but (Y/N) could be okay with that. It was fun to pretend someone was out there for her.

—————

Harry sighed as he laid his cheek heavily into his palm, elbow stationed on the flat top of his charge's dining table. He hated when she—(Y/N), as he'd learned through the months since she'd been under his care—cooked. He felt as if he couldn't take his eyes off of her hands for too long in the worst case scenario she burned herself or sunk a knife through the appendages. Despite the anxiety that rang in his throat whenever he saw her eyes glance away from whatever it was she was whipping up, he knew his job was on the easier side of the spectrum with her.

From what he collected from the stories other guardians have shared with him, Harry was lucky to have a charge like her. She wasn't terribly clumsy or a beacon of bad luck—at least no more than any other regular human. She was a careful girl, leaving Harry from having to intervene as often as he's heard other angels having to do on behalf of their charges. She made his job easy with her quiet routines and predictability.

Though that didn't mean that he didn't wish he could do more to keep her safe, especially from herself.

He'd grown attached to her, his careful girl. His favorite thing in the world was spending time with her and the peeks of her life he got to see. She was terribly kind to everyone she interacted with, and quietly smart. He got to see all the times she made herself laugh with her silly jokes, or the couple of times she'd braved through her shyness and shared those couple of quips with her coworkers. Harry saw the way she gently romanticized her life, fluffing her pillows, making her mornings a little easier with the extra bit of whipped cream she topped her chai lattes with, and the small markings she made in her books when she particularly loved a specific scene or line. She put so much of herself into everyday as if there was no way it could break her heart. That was why it hurt him seeing what she put herself through.

(Y/N) didn't seem to see any of the things Harry saw. She didn't see the things that made Harry's heart grow, that had him questioning if she was the real angel between the two of them. All of those details that Harry admired were wiped away in (Y/N)'s eyes, giving her all the excuses to be too hard on herself to be healthy.

She was new here, that much he knew. She was far away from her home where she grew up, leaving her on uneven footing that she struggled to level out. He watched as she tried to fulfill her heart with the help of dates that broke both her routine and her heart in one fell swoop. He'd seen her try to branch out and make friends with some of her coworkers, only to fall a little flat when her shyness cut in and kept her from making connections farther than small talk in the break room.

He'd watched her endure those small heart breaks all by herself, those cracks appearing most times by her own hand, leaving him to ache to protect her even though he knew he couldn't. Harry had no power to save her from those dangers and pains, he could only protect her from joining his realm before her time. That left him to wait and watch her, his own heart singeing around the edges as he watched her hurt herself without the cushion of forgiveness that only she could give. Her large heart didn't seem to extend to herself in those low moments.

But, he would stay right there. Despite the fact it hurt him more than just about anything to see her curl in on herself and cry, beat herself up for her mistakes that only she recognized, he would stay there. Though she couldn't see him, and he couldn't speak to her, he hoped that she could feel that she wasn't alone, especially in those moments. He'd do his best to protect her in his own way, even if it wasn't exactly within his job description.

Harry forced himself to take his mind off of those low moments, and focus on the fact she was on her way back up to her usual energy tonight. Today had been a good day, he knew. He could tell with the way she'd played the same upbeat song upwards of three times now since she's started padding around her kitchen, her favorite at the moment he's sure. She hummed as she worked and added a heaping helping of cheese to the top of her dish, something he knew she was excited about, those cheese filled bites being left to the end of her meal as they were her favorite.

These were the good nights, he smiled. She would turn on one of her shows when she sat down and would inevitably end the night with reading a few pages of her book. He was always especially proud of her on these nights. She had braved her own heartbreak and dug herself out of those self-dug holes.

Despite those hard times where he wished he could do more for her than he could, Harry loved his job. He loved being there for a girl he knew needed it. She was always going to be his purpose.

—————

Harry plucked at the clouds that cushioned his seat. Around him, the other guardians he'd become close to, were mirroring his posture and had draped themselves across the clouds and played with the tufts in gentle volleys back and forth. Though they all tried to be with their charges as much as possible, their humans needed privacy too. If something absolutely terrible was on the verge, divine intervention would call out to them.

Plus, it was a necessity that they had a moment with others who understood what they were going through with a chance to stretch their voices after being so silent all day long.

"Leigha's new favorite thing to do is just cross the street without looking," Glenna sighed, rolling her eyes as her wings ruffled behind her, "I don't know why she started doing it, but she doesn't bother to check if there's a car coming before she's stepping into the intersection. I think she underestimates how careful other people are. It makes me sweat every time she decides to go for a run now."

Harry listened with a distraught face as the others piped up about the dangerous habits of their charges. He didn't know what he would do if (Y/N) didn't pay attention while driving or went running at night. He suddenly felt appreciative of her shaky hands and distracted eyes while cooking. It could be much worse, he decided.

"Mine, she—uh," Harry started, just as a stray tuft of cloud was tossed in his direction from the volleying of his friends, "She doesn't pay attention while she's cooking. She almost chopped her fingers off ten times in the last month alone." A shudder worked up his spine and through the bones of his wings at the reminder of the latest close call when she tried to portion out a fillet of fish.

Tossing the cloud between his hands, Harry listened as the other guardians groaned in understanding, as it was a story they knew too well.

"It's like they don't even know how dangerous those kitchens are! Fire, and gas, and knives, and all just for some food? I don't get it!" Ben chided, exasperated with his gesticulating hands feigning defeat.

Volleying the cloud out to another guardian, Harry listened as his friends erupted into another slew of critiques for their charges. His gaze dropped to his hands as he twirled his fingers through the clouds cradling his lap. A pinch appeared between his brows the longer he listened in.

All his friends spoke about how terrible it was that their charges had questionable judgement at times, but all he could think about was how none of those things could hurt him as much as it did to see his (Y/N) with a broken heart. Those days hurt more, caused more anxiety, and made his wings ache more than all of the times he's seen her almost cut her fingers during her meal prepping. That wasn't the kind of pain or worry he thought he would ever go through while looking out for a human, especially one as careful as her.

Was that normal?

Listening to all of his friends, he knew all of the guardians felt a certain connection to their charges. It would be hard not to fall into it, considering the sanctioned pairs spent so much time together, but none of them seemed to be quite as attached as Harry felt he was falling into with (Y/N). Was he supposed to be thinking of her when he wasn't there to watch over her? Was he supposed to worry over the state of her heart, even when it had nothing to do with her physical safety? Did any of his friends share these trains of thought?

"Harry? Are you okay?"

Looking up, Harry found Glenna looking at him with her fair hair a waterfall around her concerned features. The tossing around of the small cloud had diminished, leaving it to flutter to the puffs underneath them. He managed to perk up some at the acknowledgment, hoping to hide some of the melancholy that had reached him.

"Yeah, sorry," he said, shaking his head as he traced his fingertips through the dew of the clouds, "Can I ask you guys something?" Rumblings of small agreements came through, Glenna piping up that of course he could ask them anything. Tipping his head, he kept his eyes trained on his hands as he spoke, "Do any of your charges ever... Does it hurt you when they're sad?"

A beat of silence passed, Harry's eyes staying still on his fingers covered in cloud dew.

"What do you mean?" Glenna asked, head tilted, "If they get hurt, we definitely feel upset, if that's what you're asking."

His brows knitted together in a furrow, a small shake of his head as he felt all eyes on him. "No, I mean, she—my human—gets sad sometimes. It's usually at night before she sleeps, and it's just really hard to watch. I-I don't know how to save her from that."

Harry focused on the quiet breeze that ruffled the clouds around them, the ripples of the tufts secluding his hands in the waves.

"What do you mean she gets sad, H?" Ben prodded, voice matching the gentle breeze.

A small shrug lifted Harry's shoulders. "She's... lonely, I think. She tries to make friends and meet new people, but it seems she only gets her feelings hurt. I try to stay with her so she doesn't feel so alone, but I don't know how to help her."

It was Glenna who reached across the circle and rested her hand on his, halting the anxious twirling he was doing through the clouds. "I understand what you mean, Harry. It's sweet the way you're looking out for her," she offered with a small smile on her lips, "But, those kinds of things are out of our control. All we can help them with is making sure they don't join the clouds too soon, everything else isn't anything we can help with. It can be hard to do, but in the long run it's easier to separate yourself from your charges, and keep from getting caught up in how they feel. It makes your job a lot harder when you worry about things you can't fix."

He knew Glenna was trying to help, her advice probably more valuable than she even realized given the situation he was finding himself in, but he couldn't take it. He didn't know how.

"H-How do you do that?" Peering through his lashes, he saw the rest of the group quietly looking on.

A careful smile curled Glenna's lips. "You'll learn. Give yourself time, and don't take it too hard if you slip up."

Despite the way Harry nodded along and twisted his hand under Glenna's to give her fingers a small squeeze, he knew he wasn't going to heed her advice.

He didn't want to learn to let go of (Y/N). Even if it made his job "harder", he wanted to be there for her. He wanted to be her friend even if his heart broke every now and then.

—————

A bubbly smile, dimples and all, molded Harry's features as he watched (Y/N) flit about her home. Her favorite song of the moment was coming from the speaker set up on the windowsill in the kitchen, lifting over the sound of her favorite meal being cooked on the stove. His usual seat at the dining table was bathed in the warmth of the sunset pouring through the open windows, the glow paling in comparison to how happy seeing his (Y/N) made him feel.

She'd been like this all week, terribly bubbly and happy compared to the days she had spent huddled under her covers with tears slicking her eyes. It'd been a joy to spend his time with her since she seemingly got over the loneliness that came after her previously failed date. It was hard to remember she could have days like this when he was so worried over her when she hid in the depths of the cracks in her heart, but it never made these happy moments lose their shine.

Harry watched as (Y/N) plated up her dinner (something full of noodles and cheese that he's pretty sure she made up for herself just because it was easy and full of her favorite things) before she made her way to the living room, where a new episode of her current favorite reality television show awaited her. (Harry didn't care for it really, it was overall very shallow, but the whole point was to find love so he didn't mind it too much, especially seeing as how much (Y/N) enjoyed it). He couldn't help himself but to float on after her, ghosting over the floor to keep from drawing any attention to his presence before he made a seat on the floor by her feet, looking up at her as she curled up in the corner between the couch cushions and the arm. Before he could stop himself, especially over something so trivial, Harry waved his fingers and cooled off the food on her plate, hoping to keep her from burning her tongue the same way she always does when she got too excited for her meal.

The routine that had become of their relationship came to light with the way he settled in with his back cushioned by the couch with (Y/N) a warm presence behind him. He listened in as she offered quiet commentary about the show in the form of gasps and hums as she watched the couples create unnecessary drama and eventually make up with the messy makeouts to match. She was more entertaining than any silly show, he decided. The only thing that broke him from that happiness fluttering through his tummy, was the way she couldn't resist checking her phone every few minutes, a bright smile on her face every time.

This always worried him, the giddy behavior tied to her phone. Usually when he saw her get so attached to her notifications, it had to do with a change of plans coming this weekend that typically left her with a broken heart. The way she tapped away at her screen with that bright smile on her face whenever he heard the telltale buzz from her phone didn't make him feel any better.

As much as he loved these happy days, the bubbling warmth that filled her home when she allowed herself to shed the previous heartache, he always feared when it came on so quickly. These heart fluttering highs could only be matched with trench-like lows.

But, Harry wasn't going to think about that right now, he decided. Especially not when she was giggling behind him at some fabricated scenario coming from her reality show.

If he found her in a puddle of blankets and a sniffly nose later, he would deal with it then. For now, he would stay in this moment with her and make sure she didn't feel so alone.

—————

Rolling his eyes for the thirtieth time in the last twenty minutes, Harry had half the mind to worry if his expression would get stuck like this if he kept it up. Despite that, he couldn't stop the petulant sigh that left his lips as he watched (Y/N) on her date.

Just as he had feared that night on her couch, she had set herself up for a date later in the week and was getting giddy over the prospect of meeting someone he was sure she would give every bit of herself to despite no guarantee of the same. His heart had only sunk lower when he saw her getting ready, primping herself into her prettiest dress, a light wash of makeup covering her features, and her hair primed to perfection. As pretty as she looked (and she was breathtakingly gorgeous always as far as Harry was concerned, but tonight was something else), it couldn't save the way he was worried she would be doing all of this for naught. He could only hope her date would appreciate her the way he did, even if his appreciation was on the quiet side.

His hopes were dashed very quickly when she met up with her date—a man named Marc—and he barely gave her more than a once over and a mumbled compliment that she looked nice, before he was sliding his phone out of (Y/N)'s view on the table. (He hadn't even waited for her at the hostess stand before grabbing a table, nor had he stood up to greet her. Two strikes already as far as Harry was concerned). Harry could only steal a seat at an empty table and keep his eyes tacked on (Y/N) to ensure she was safe throughout her night (and not at all because he wanted to see if this man was good enough for her).

His mood had only been made worse the longer he watched (Y/N) give her all to this evening with her date doing a poor job of feigning interest. The most attention he gave her was when he was pouring out stories and anecdotes about himself, and when he requested waters for the both of them from the waiter—which Harry knew got (Y/N) melting over him with the way her eyes rounded out and her bottom lip became trapped between her teeth, as if he were actually taking care of her. It wasn't his proudest of moments, but Harry couldn't help but to pick this man apart.

He was no good for (Y/N), this Marc. Even with the hue draped around her form and painted over her nails, he probably couldn't even guess that her favorite color was a creamy lavender. He probably didn't even notice that she didn't like her meal, having pushed around the remainder after taking a few bites to confirm there was too much garlic, extra onions somehow, and not enough salt. And, stars, if he picked up that phone one more time while (Y/N) tried to talk Harry was going to lose his heavenly status doing something to make this man pay attention. How he managed to weasel a date out of his girl, he would never know.

(His girl is used loosely, of course, Harry reminded himself. He feels closer to her than an angel to his charge should, but they weren't really friends either. Calling her his girl is just easier. At least that's what he's convinced himself).

Knowing (Y/N), she was eating this up no matter what, indulging in the fleeting glances her date offered to her and the fake laughter at things she said that weren't even intended to be funny. She was forgiving and loving to everyone but herself, so he was sure she was much more willing to buy his feigned persona than Harry was.

But, Harry would stay there no matter what, watching her cringe through half-hearted bites of her meal washed down with water all to ensure she stayed safe that night, even though he wasn't sure what exactly he was saving her from anymore.

—————

Relief flooded Harry's system when he realized the date was finally coming to an end. Maybe he was exaggerating but he didn't really care when he felt like he had just sat through a day's worth of the most mundane college stories from a guy who clearly still bought into the idea of the eternal brotherhood of fraternities. In reality, the night had to have been cut down to, at most, an hour and a half.

(Y/N) still seemed optimistic as she pushed out her chair and gathered her things with a brush of her hands over her dress to straighten any wrinkles, even when her date started sauntering off without her. Not even a glance behind him could be spared to ensure she was following it seemed. Nonetheless, (Y/N) kept a smile on her face as she chased after him, meeting him just before he exited the hostess area and out on the street. Harry followed behind, silently and unseen, keeping the stretch of his wings tucked in to ensure no one walked through them (it wasn't like anyone would realize they'd just gone through a guardian's wings, but it was more uncomfortable for him knowing someone just traipsed through a part of his body that was entirely solid when visible).

"It was really nice to meet you, Marc," (Y/N) bubbled, hands bundled around her purse in front of her. She shyly peered through her lashes, offering a pretty sight for her inattentive date to ignore.

"Yeah," he smiled, flashing perfectly bleached teeth though his eyes held no genuine emotion, "I'll call you sometime."

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ears, (Y/N) tried not to look as giddy as Harry was sure she felt inside. He couldn't contain the huff that left his lungs as he lent against the streetlamp, arms crossed over his bared chest. "I'd like that," she smiled at him, entirely too sweet for someone so sour, "Thank you for dinner."

"Yeah," he repeated before waving her off with a dismissive hand and a see you later! His phone rang in his pocket, too quiet for (Y/N) to hear but just enough for Harry to catch before it was pressed to Marc's ear.

He didn't even offer to walk her to her car.

Harry hoped (Y/N) didn't catch the way Marc was making plans with whatever friend was on the other line, despite having just told her that he had an early day at the office tomorrow and that was why he needed to cut the night short. Not at all because he wanted to catch drinks with a friend of his that was somehow more interesting than his (Y/N).

Nonetheless, Harry felt relieved to be alone with (Y/N) again, getting his friend back after the trudge of the night. Despite the cause of it, he was happy to see her with a smile on her face and fond of the light in her eyes. He happily took over the job of walking her back to her car, ensuring when she tripped in her heels that her panic only lasted a moment before he righted her with a flick of his wrist. This had to be his favorite part of the night so far, he decided.

Sinking into the passenger seat of her car, Harry watched as (Y/N) giddily turned up her radio, her favorite song of the moment playing through the speakers. He loved seeing her happy and he wished this could last forever, really.

If anything, he hoped she would be able to recover from the broken heart that would appear a week from now when she never got a call back.

—————

Just like clockwork, (Y/N) found herself bundled under her comforter, pretending as if she wasn't waiting for someone she wasn't going to hear back from.

She should have known Marc wasn't going to work out. He had posted an Instagram story of him out at a bar the same night he cut their date short because he had an early morning at the office the next day. It was silly of her to have hoped it was a memory he just felt like posting for some reason, but it wasn't the first time she excused unfortunate behavior from her dates. Even now, she gave Marc three whole days to send her a text back, acknowledge the fact she was hoping to potentially set up their next date, before she finally took the hint. He couldn't have been so busy the full seventy-two hours he couldn't even spare her a single text. The final nail on the coffin was the read receipt that showed up that morning, though unaccompanied by a trio of bubbles showing up to indicate a message being typed out.

All day, she promised she'd been fine. It didn't bother her he wasn't answering her—she didn't like him much anyway! He didn't think she was funny and only laughed when she wasn't even joking, so she should have taken that as a sign right from the beginning. It wasn't a big deal, really.

It wasn't a big deal, is what she told herself when she got out of the shower and reached for her phone to see the lack of notifications. It wasn't even a small deal, she reminded herself when she jumped to her buzzing phone in the middle of her nighttime routine, only to find a notification that someone from back home was apparently going live on their social media. It wasn't even something she cared about, even a little bit, she told herself once more when she climbed into bed and wasn't able to sink into her book the way she wanted to.

It's not a big deal, she insisted, even when tears filled her eyes and she had to start her page over again because she didn't comprehend even a single word she read. There was no reason to be upset. These tears she wiped away and tried to breathe through had no purpose when she couldn't even properly recall the color of Marc's eyes. Every measured intake of breath, she tried to remind herself of all the ways that she didn't even like him, but that didn't stop the tears that overflowed her waterline and slicked down her cheeks.

Spiralling thoughts took over then, commanding her to let the tears out for just a second. It was never about Marc, and she knew that. It was the prospect that he could have possibly been the one she could trick into falling in love with her, but she fell short once more. It was the failed opportunity to turn someone on to her, that she could fit the mold and be someone who is worth loving. Just another one to add to the list that met her, that she mustered the courage to reveal herself to, and to not like what he saw and decided to turn the other way.

She didn't want to get any of her tears on her book, shuttering the pages and tossing the volume to the side. With her hands folded under her cheek, gaze trying to find anything to focus on through the veil of her tears, she landed on the uncurtained window.

The snow falling outside gave her something to stick to, her gaze following the flakes as they poured from the clouds and sprinkled the ground. The sheets of powder already covering the ground outside were a glittering cushion for every drop to settle upon. The mounds of shimmering snowflakes emulated the light of the stars above them, those points being the only light in the sky given the sliver of the moon that remained in the navy darkness.

Following the flakes up to the smattering of thin clouds that distributed the crystals, she craned her neck to find the points of starlight peeking through the cover. The stars were streaking through the sky with the help of the warm tears in her eyes, though that couldn't hinder her view of the brightest star she could make out between the clouds. She blinked with a flutter of damp lashes, the point coming into focus.

The vignette of the tears in her eyes gave a view of what looked like snow over an ocean, glittering with the reflection of what she was claiming as her star. Maybe her brain hurt after a long day, too exhausted to be embarrassed by her train of thought, but all she could think about when she spotted that point was every animated film she could remember where a teary child wished upon a star for a better life.

Despite being a tiny bit desperate and alone in the cool light that filled her bedroom, she didn't allow her wish to breach her lips. Nonetheless, she closed her eyes and laced her fingers together under her head and wished.

I just want to be someone worth being in love with, she thought with more tears flooding her closed eyes. I just want someone to be happy with the love I can give, that it would be worth it to them to know me. Please, please, please, please, she warbled with a wobbly bottom lip.

A tiny whimper left her lips as she repeated her wish with her broken heart.

A handful of tears escaped once she opened her eyes, travelling down her temple and settling on her folded hands. As one more deep breath filled her lungs, (Y/N) decided that that was as pitiful as she would allow herself to be for the night. Her unrelenting mantra of its not a big deal, made a return as she steeled herself. Soon enough her running nose ceased and eyes dried up, leaving her to sit alone in the starlight with her comforter fluffed around her.

Checking the time through puffy eyes, (Y/N) reached for her book. Reading would get her mind off things, she was sure. She's okay.

Or, at least, she will be.

—————

Fluffs of dewy clouds cradled Harry's body as he laid on his back, wings stretched out underneath him. The stars above him looked especially bright tonight, the light bathing his bare chest in cool purple lights. Below him, (Y/N) had gone to bed a little over an hour ago, his last check on her revealing she was buried in her book before he allowed her privacy for the night and returned to his home up in the clouds. Snow covered the ground with more flakes raining down, leaving a chill to touch at his skin, but he couldn't care less. Weather like this didn't bother him much.

Just as a gust of that temperature-less breeze rippled the clouds around him, Harry's body went still. The cotton fluff of cloud he had been manipulating froze between his fingers. A ringing in his ears interrupted his eyes tracing out the constellations above him. His heart stuttered behind his ribcage, being pulled taut with a strumming on his heart strings that matched the tempo of the ringing filling his skull.

(Y/N) needed him.

Was this the urgency that other guardians had told him about? The panic that filled their bodies when they weren't on the ground when their charges had found their way into a dangerous situation; was that what he was feeling?

The only way his body would reanimate was when he intended to fly down to her, take care of her and fix whatever situation she had found herself in. Dipping underneath the clouds with his wings stretching out behind him, the ringing in Harry's ears dulled. Breaking through the echoing, he could hear (Y/N)'s voice.

His heart almost stopped all together at the sound off his girl speaking, her voice sounding far off but growing closer with every beat of his wings.

I just want to be someone worth being in love with. I just want someone to be happy with the love I can give, that it would be worth it to them to know me. Please, please, please, please.

She was wishing on a star.

This was something he knew was possible, to hear her wishes if she were to blow the seeds of a fluffy dandelion away, snuff out birthday candles, or picking a star in the sky to lay upon her hopes just like she was doing tonight. He never thought he would ever hear (Y/N) like this, though. Her wish of choice almost broke his heart.

The strings pulling his heart loosened the closer he grew to her home. The echoes of her saddened voice mellowed until he found his way to flutter through to her living room (the sensation of misting through walls was one he was never going to get used to, but at least he could only do it to get wherever she was or he would lose it). Her home was silent once the memory of her voice cleared out of his head, melancholy tinting the air as if there was a layer of grey clouds hovering above.

Though there was something a little guilty that followed after him as he crept through her home, all he wanted was to make sure she was okay; to check on her after she had unknowingly called on him. Peeking into her bedroom, he found her bundled under her comforter, book off to the side with her page haphazardly saved with a bookmark of a receipt. Her eyes were puffy, a lingering side effect of the tears he was sad he hadn't been there to offer her silent comfort through, but at least he didn't have to see her cry herself to sleep and struggle through those shaky sobs. She always fell so soundly asleep after crying, so at least he knew she was resting well. Especially after what he was sure was a trying evening after he left her by herself for the night.

Nonetheless, Harry could still feel his heart breaking as he gazed over her.

To anyone else, she may have looked like a girl resting after a long day, but Harry knew better. He saw all the signs. He'd seen the pile of dishes in her sink, her hair was thrown on the top of her head instead of her usual braid back, and her book of choice for the evening was a comfort novel she turned to when she was in need of lighter thoughts. Her heart had been broken today. Most likely by her own hand.

That was the hardest part, Harry thought as he swept across her floor with silent steps. Knowing that she didn't have to go through this if she was just a little kinder to herself.

Her strawberry shaped diffuser dispersed her favorite blend of lavender essential oil and vanilla fragrance through her room, the scent wafting around him with the help of the span of his wings. Another comfort, he knew; something to soothe the cracks in her heart she was able to ignore for majority of her day until she was left alone with the stars. It was harder for her when the sun went down.

With her wish echoing in his head, Harry took careful steps towards her bed. The melancholy in her house lingered with every step, his gaze stuck to her face to ensure she wasn't spiralling into any bad dreams. All he wanted was to comfort her.

That was the thought he had in his head when he sat down on the edge her bed, her legs just behind him, as he tucked his wings close to his shoulder blades. Ensuring he didn't jostle her as he settled on the mattress, he felt his breath seize when he saw the details of her face under the pale starlight. He'd been close to her before, but this was different.

Her tear tracks sparkled like the stars that lined his home in the clouds, casting pastel shadows over her face with cool blues and purples. The shape of her lips was even more pronounced given the length of her crying; though he didn't care for the cause, the effect was his favorite. Her skin shone like silk; delicate like the lashes lining her eyes, tiny creases and lines that showed that there still were days that made her smile. Despite the fact he was the one with wings pinned to his back, he swore she was the angelic one of the two.

Breathtaking; that was all that was running through his mind. She was too pretty when she cried, it wasn't fair.

His hands fisted in his lap as he wondered what it would feel like to cradle her cheek in his palm. Would she be as warm as he dared to allow himself to imagine, or would she be cool and dewy like the clouds above? Would it be such a bad thing to reach out and test his theories? Besides, he knew from the other guardians that sometimes the touch from an angel can help heal the ailments of their charges. While he doubted he could fix everything that was hurting her tonight, maybe he could soften the sharp edges of her broken heart.

Uncurling his fingers from the fist he had made in his lap, Harry reached out with a tentative hand.

Harry's fingertips touched her skin first, the warmth of her skin rivalling the sun at that slight brush alone. The pads of his lean fingers mapped the round of her cheek as he skimmed over her skin, his palm coming to cup around her face. She was soft like clouds and smooth like silk, a creamy warmth bleeding into his skin that Harry didn't think could come from anyone but this woman. His fingers breached her hairline, soft baby hairs curling around his digits while the curve of her cheek molded into the ridges and lines of his palm.

A platinum warmth was felt bubbling under his skin. That had to be what his friends had talked about—the healing touch of a guardian. It may not be a physical pain he wanted to save her from, but he hoped this touch might be able to soothe her some, even in her sleep.

Looking at her now, under the guise of pale moonlight with his palm holding her carefully, he wanted nothing more than for her to be able to feel the affection he felt for her. She had no idea how cared for and loved she was—even by people she didn't see all that often now that she had moved on her own. She had no idea how much he cared for her.

What a special girl she was, he thought as he tentatively ran the pad of his thumb over the height of her cheekbone. Half of her wish was about how much she wanted to give love to others, wishing that privilege upon someone else who he would bet would never really deserve someone quiet as divine as her; selfishness didn't even come to her when she was alone.

His wish was a hope that there was someone out there that could show her how much she was loved. Someone like him, even though he didn't dare linger on that thought for too long.

He would find a way to make her wishes come true. He knew he would, that much he'd promise even if he couldn't tell her.

A tiny smile crossed her features as (Y/N) pressed her cheek into Harry's hand. Pride puffed at his chest, his wings spanning behind him as if he could create a shield around their moment. Even if she wasn't aware, at least she could feel the way he cared for her.

—————

Bad days always had the silver lining of the morning after, in (Y/N)'s world. While the tears that marred her night sucked, there was nothing like the day after when she felt refreshed and clean. Now it was all out of her system and she could move on. It definitely helped that it was a Saturday morning, too.

Stretching in her bed, (Y/N)'s limbs felt cramped and stilted after the long night of rest; she didn't have a single dream as far as she could remember. The only details she could recall was this pleasant feeling that had warmed her insides. If she had dreamt, at least it seemed to be a good dream.

Having forgotten to close her curtains the night before, her bed was bathed in warmth with her comforter tucked around her form. Frost covered her window, spidering out with the tiny crystals highlighted by the sun to emulate prisms. The scent of vanilla lingered in her room, only slightly overshadowed with the fragrance of something she could only describe as what clouds may smell like—clean and airy.

That must be what her new body lotion smelled like after a few hours. It was comforting.

After lingering in her bed long after she first dared to blink her eyes open, (Y/N) decided she might as well get up, if only to make herself something to eat before returning to the pleasant warmth of her bed. Shuffling out from between the sheets, she shivered at the chill that touched her skin now that she fled her cocoon of blankets. It was definitely a lot colder than the shining sun made it seem.

In a bid to ensure she didn't fall into another slump, she made a point to fix her bed that morning. Grabbing the edges of her sheets and comforter, (Y/N) snapped her wrists to cause a ripple to wave through the fabric, straightening out the rumples and creases. From the corner of her eye, something went fluttering through the air while the duvet settled delicately atop the mattress. She distractedly patted down her comforter, turning it down from her pillows all while she peered over the foot of her bed to find whatever it was that had been tossed through the air.

Laying in a patch of sunlight streaming through her window, laid a feather. How it had gotten there, she didn't know, but that didn't keep her from abandoning her almost-made bed and padding towards it.

It was so large, (Y/N) couldn't help but wonder if it was even from a bird. There couldn't be a bird that big anywhere near here that could leave behind a feather like that, let alone one that could sneak into her home undetected in the night. Besides, there wasn't a single creature that came to mind that had feathers that looked as if they had been dipped in starlight. The stem of the feather shone with a warm pearlescent glimmer while the fluff itself glittered with what she could only compare to flakes of an opal stone. Shades of yellow, pink, and blue were revealed only by the help of the sun, otherwise hidden and leaving behind a pristine white feather. It looked divine; something that could only be conceptualized on a page or thought up on a dream could leave something like this.

Maybe she shouldn't have (bird feathers carried diseases, right?), but (Y/N) couldn't help herself when she bent down and grabbed for the feather. Pinched between her fingers, she was able to twist the feather in the light, uncovering more and more color dipped onto the fluff, only for a shadow to cover it and leave behind a pure white canvas. It was gorgeous.

Tossing an absent look behind her shoulder, she confirmed that her windows were tightly latched shut.

Maybe there was some pillow of hers, or her duvet was stuffed with feathers and she'd just forgotten. Though, she couldn't think of why such a pretty variation would be condemned to be hidden away inside of home goods.

Running her fingers over the white fluff, gentle fingertips were pulled away to reveal a sheen of the opal shimmer covering her skin though none seemed to be missing from the feather itself. It was magical, entirely otherworldly—or at least very beautifully made that it looked as if only an angel could possess such a feather.

(Y/N) couldn't stand to part with it. She even hoped she'd find where this one came from, so she could see if there were more to be had. If she had to tear open a pillow, she just might if only to see if there were more hidden away in her bed things.

Looking to her vanity, (Y/N) spotted her brush cup where the rest of her makeup brushes were stashed away. That was the perfect place to store it, she decided as she crossed her room and placed the plucked feather among the brushes. It fit in beautifully with the clean white surface and the amber bulbs lining the mirror.

Stepping back, she caught a final glance at her new find before turning towards the door. What a good way to start her day.

—————

Though he didn't need to sleep, Harry enjoyed doing it from time to time. While he told the other guardians that the reason he shuttered his eyes every now and then was to recuperate after long days of caring for his charge, the real reason was his love of dreaming. There was something so interesting about the fact that full length movies could occupy his sleeping brain for hours at a time, even eliciting real life reactions. (Y/N) had inspired him after he'd caught her talking in her sleep one weekend when she had fallen ill. It was fascinating.

Plus, he always woke up rather refreshed after those hours of reprieve, and, after last night, that was exactly what he needed. In the same way (Y/N) needed her time to rest and process what she had put herself through the night before, he was able to recover this way from the turmoil he'd felt in his heart over the knowledge of her hurting. Blinking his eyes open with the sun shining above him, Harry felt significantly better than he did when he had left his girl the night before.

She didn't need him, that much he could tell as he pushed off the cloud of fog that formed around him like a blanket. It was a reassuring feeling knowing that she wasn't in immediate need of his presence, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to check on her anyway. If anything, he just wanted to get the scene of her teary face out of his head and replaced by her early morning smile.

Ducking through the clouds, Harry swore his hand felt different as it grazed the dew. The same hand that had cradled her cheek the night before now felt especially warm, as if the heat from her skin lingered in his own. The memory made his heart thump thickly against his ribcage, the same thing that made it hard to relax after he left her to rest.

Fluttering down to her home, his heart skipped a beat when he could hear her through the walls when he misted in. That was his happy girl at the stove, cooking her breakfast in her favorite pair of candied violet hued sleep shorts with her hair tucked on the top of her head. The scent of Chantilly cream filled the air just under the smell of her food, the sweetness coming from her skin and the lotion she had smoothed over her skin.

He felt at home as he fluttered over the floorboards, eyes shifting down to her hands to ensure she didn't get too close to the burners on the stove. With her pans sizzling on the stove, he always worried that something might pop up and burn her. Harry didn't even think when he heard the floorboard creak under his feet, focused ahead as he made sure he had a prime view of her hands. Until she froze in her spot, of course.

Glancing at his feet, Harry noticed the way the pressure of his weight depressed the board under his feet. That never happened before.

Harry typically ghosted through her home, undetectable without a trace of his presence being left behind. Shifting in his spot, another faint creak sounded under the noise of her cooking. That definitely wasn't supposed to happen.

That had her twirling in her spot, eyes wide as they landed on Harry standing stock-still in her living room.

He could see her registering his presence with her wide eyes. She wasn't searching around for a phantom that made a fleeting noise in her home—she was seeing him.

"Oh my god," she whispered, backing up tightly to the edge of the stove with horror marring her face.

It was instinctual the way he reacted seeing her hand so close to the lively burner and her back turned to the popping grease that could reach her skin through the thin top adorning her body. He didn't mean to take a step towards her, reaching that protective hand out that usually gave her a light suggestion to move just a hair out of the way. He didn't mean to startle her any further when he stuttered out, "Be careful, your han—"

Just like that, the statue of his charge came alive. She moved away from the heated stove only to frantically reach behind her for a harmless spatula, eyes never leaving her intruder.

"Stay away from me!" Her voice was shrill as she shouted to him. Her throat bobbed when she swallowed around her fear. It was only then that she spotted the disappointing tool she had clutched in her hand.

Recoiling in hope of looking less threatening, Harry retracted his hand. His throat ran dry as it sunk in that she really could see him, and, if that wasn't bad enough, she was afraid of him. Though he'd never really thought about what would happen if she ever gained the awareness to notice his presence, this outcome wasn't even a possibility in his mind. He had almost hoped she would recognize him.

"Y-You need to get out," she pleaded in a breathless voice, emulating a terrified bunny, "Just leave an-and I won't call anyone. Just please leave."

His heart broke hearing the fear in her voice. It wasn't ever supposed to be like this; he was never supposed to be the one inspiring fear in her. He couldn't leave her to think he was here to hurt her, even if it maybe wasn't the best look being a stranger in her house, bare chested thanks to the draping of cloud fabric around his hips, and the apparent familiarity of her home.

"I promise, 'm not here to hurt you," Harry breathed, putting his hands up with his palms outwards to show he was defenseless. He could feel his wings mimicking the motion of his hands, the feathers spanning out behind him to show there was nothing for him to hide. "'S okay, (Y/N)."

Harry knew his mistake as soon as he saw something spark in (Y/N)'s eyes at the sound of her name leaving his lips.

"How do you know my name?"

(Y/N) spoke with her eyes pinned on the wings behind him, her hands shaking enough to blur the image of the spatula clutched between her fingers. Her breathing shifted to uneven puffs, her skin paling the longer she stared at him. This wasn't good, that much he could see even before something in her eyes lost focus.

Another mistake he made was the impulsive step forward he took. She was going to hurt herself if she wasn't careful.

"You need to breathe, (Y/N)—"

And, that was all he got out before her body went limp, eyes fluttering to a close, and she dropped to her kitchen floor.

—————

She's dead, isn't she?

That was the first thing (Y/N) thought when she dared to blink her eyes open after what had to have been the most exhausting sleep she'd ever endured.

Shrouded in morning light, an angel hovered above her, sealing the deal for her that this was nothing but the afterlife. Shimmering wings fluttered behind his back as she felt the soft caress of his hand brushing hair out of her face. He was so pretty, warm like the sun, and alluring like a dream. Even if he did look a tiny bit concerned as he gazed at her.

"Am I in heaven?"

A smile touched the angel's features at her question. He must get that all the time.

That touch of his hand brushing through her hair shifted until he grazed his hand over her cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing the height of her cheekbone. "No, love," he told her in the softest voice she'd ever heard, "Not gonna be there for a long while, if I have anything to do with it."

His voice was much more interesting to focus on than what he was actually saying, his words going in one ear and out the other. "But, you're an angel," she dazedly answered.

Another delicate smile plucked at his mouth, a dimple denting his cheek. "I am, yeah."

(Y/N) couldn't find it in her to craft a response, instead opting to gaze up at her angel and take him in. Maybe he was a playful creature, messing with her when he tells her that this isn't heaven. Sure, it looked a lot like her living room, but there was no way this was her regular life when someone like him was there to greet her.

Her angel only shook his head when he caught her dreamy expression as she looked up at him, his attention shifting to his hand on her skin. His touch glided across her skin, her angel's green eyes following the motion of his hand while (Y/N) reveled in the feel of her hair being grazed through. He was really good at this, she thought, playing with her hair and all. Maybe before she saw the rest of heaven, he could braid it back for her. She'd bet he'd be really good at that, too.

A whimper broke through her throat to match the lighting strike of pain that flashed through the back of her head when her angel touched the side of her head. Pain wasn't supposed to exist here, she thought.

"'M sorry, 'm sorry, love," he cooed to her, even as he pressed harder on the tender spot on her skull.

Just before she thought to grab for his wrist and yank his hand away from her head, the strikes of pain ceased. His touch was warmer than she remembered as a fog she hadn't even been aware was clouding her mind began to clear out. Those puffy clouds dissipated like those mornings she awoke to her yard shrouded in fog, the layer only misting away when the sun emerged. In her case, the sun was the bout of memories that rushed to the forefront of her mind.

She was making breakfast, though now she couldn't remember what she did with the sizzling pans when a stranger appeared in her home. He was too familiar with her, she could now remember thinking. He moved about her house with a sense of where to go to find her, looked at her with eyes that knew her better than they should, and he knew her name.

That stranger, he was captivating, she remembered. Much too pretty to be acting like a creep, but she couldn't necessarily stop him from the path he already chose to go on. But he was odd, too. He was barely clothed, waltzing through her home with a bare chest and a barely there swath of fabric slung low on his hips. Tattoos were inked on his skin, highlighting the plains of his chest and the lines of muscles down his arms. There was no reason an intruder should be so divine.

The last straw fluttered to her mind as her angel—or was he a doctor, now that she was thinking much clearer—snaked his hand from the back of her head. There were wings on the intruder's back, the feathery masses reacting to his movements. That, combined with the revelation that he knew her name, was what had her dropping to the floor, spatula and all.

Blinking the glaze she hadn't known was covering her eyes, she looked above at her savior. Maybe he could help her figure out what was going on.

When her gaze focused though, instead of an angel, she saw the intruder that had gotten her into this mess. Without the cloud of her apparent head injury, all sense of calm left her body.

"Wait," she peeped, voice breaking despite the lack of volume. Casting a glance over his shoulder, those wings he had that had previously convinced her that he was an angel here to cart her to heaven were still there. They weren't supposed to be there, just like they weren't supposed to be there when he had traipsed through her home on a Saturday morning. Her breathing sped up. Was she going crazy? A terrified whimper cracked her throat as she tried her best to scramble on lethargic limbs. "Wh-Who—You need to get out—Do-Don't touch—"

None of her thoughts could complete themselves as she tried to find her mind among the mess that made up the rest of her morning. Her heart was beating in her throat, already weak limbs beginning to shake under the pressure of trying to get away from this man—creature? mutant?—who feigned care for her before he would undoubtedly steal her away for whatever freakish desire he'd come up with, and she was going to d—

"Hey," he cut across her frantic thoughts, heavy hands coming to rest on her shoulders with the suggestion of settling back down into the cushions under her, "You need to calm down, (Y/N). I promise 'm not going to hurt you, yeah? Y'can't move so fast right now, though. Y'hit your head when y'fell before. You're going to be alright, I jus' need you to calm down before y'make yourself sick, okay?"

He wasn't supposed to be so kind right now. His touch wasn't supposed to be so gentle, and disappear so quickly once she obeyed his fight to get her to calm down and stop moving. He was supposed to be a monster, supposed to be acting like the kind of lunatic to break into a single woman's home in broad daylight. Instead, he looked genuinely concerned, ready to back off if she tried to fight him any further. He even made the pain in her head go away, and played into her delirious fantasies before she was in her right mind.

The confusion she felt about what she had expected and what she was actually facing was too overwhelming. Tears sprung into her eyes as she bundled her hands at her chest, fingers knitting together only to break apart and repeat the process. "I-I don't understand. Who are you?"

She watched as he dropped his gaze to her nervous hands, a tick appearing between his brows with his lips being rolled between his teeth though he didn't reach out to try and touch her, despite the twitch in his fingers. Instead, he kept his hands in their own bundle in his lap, eyes tracing back to her face.

"Well," he told her, bringing his hand up to rub a knuckle under the tip of his nose, "'M your guardian." When he finally drawled the words, a sheepish smile tucked itself onto his lips, dimples in his cheeks and lines parenthesizing his mouth.

(Y/N) felt her heart thump heartily inside her chest a handful of times before she found her words.

"What?"

A little deadpan, but that was all that was running through her mind. Good enough, given the fact there wasn't much that was in order in her brain at this point.

As if to prove his claim, the glittering wings sprouting from his back ruffled in response. She half expected glimmers of gems to flutter to the floor at the motion. "'M your guardian angel, (Y/N)," he reiterated.

She wished she could see the face she made at his words, but she could only imagine the deadpan expression leveling her features that matched the way her thoughts flatlined. If not for the wings she could clearly see ruffling behind his back, she would have assumed there was some kind of hallucination on his part.

"Those are real?"

His brows furrowed at her line of questioning, that notch between them deepening while his lips puffed into a slight pout. "Well, yeah. Why wouldn't we be?"

"Because you sound kind of crazy." Maybe that knock to her head also took her filter out, but (Y/N) didn't have it in her to be embarrassed at the moment.

Her angel tilted his head as if he couldn't believe she was questioning him. Did he really think this was as common of knowledge as he was acting?

"Would you like to touch them?"

(Y/N)'s eyes widened at his question. It wasn't too late to start that escape plan it seemed. "Touch what?"

"My wings," he answered simply, a jerk of his chin gesturing behind him as if there were any other set of wings he could be referring to. "So you know they're real."

It was the purity in his eyes that kept her from immediately rejecting his ill-worded offer. He was genuinely asking her because he wanted her to trust him. He wanted her to know he wasn't lying, or trying to scare her, or hurt her.

That was the only thing that had her nodding her head after a beat of hesitation.

Besides, if he really was crazy, he seemed to be rather harmless at this point.

She struggled to sit up on the fluffed cushions of her couch, limbs still heavy and slow, but she made a point to dodge his reaching hands. She only agreed to touch him, not to him touching her any more than he already has. She still needed a little more from him to trust him any more than the growing sliver in the back of her mind. He shuffled around her as she moved, making room for her as she folded her legs under her bottom.

"Okay?" he asked her, honest features softened as he took in what she was sure were nerves marring her own face.

"Mhm," she hummed, nodding her head with her lips rolled between her teeth in a punishing hold.

(Y/N) kept her eyes glued to him as he twisted in his spot, baring his back to her and the two large wings sprouting from between his shoulder blades. She watched as he unfurled them as far as her living room would allow, the spans scrunched some to keep from brushing the walls and knocking around the room. The feathers themselves looked downy soft, delicate in the way they could sway and ruffle in a breeze, but the rigid structure of his wings looked stronger than she was sure even the packed muscles on his arms were.

Light poured through the glass sliding back door, shining directly on the feathers like a spotlight. The hazy shroud the rays had made around his face now allowed the shimmer she had seen on his wings to be brought out in a kaleidoscope of colors. Those gemstone hues she'd spied before were on display, both bright and sheer at the same time. Any place that the sunlight didn't touch was left as a pristine white feather, unmarred by the opalescent gleam that shimmered over the tips. The rachis was a shimmering gold hue, shifting in the light.

The vision was divine. And familiar.

"I've seen these before," she told him, voice suddenly breathless as she dared to reach her hand out and stroke through the feathers. It was just as she remembered: downy soft, and delicately strong.

A patient smile was painted on his face as he turned to look at her over his shoulder. "What do you mean?"

Looking into his eyes, she realized there were notes of that mossy green, only sheer, reflecting off of his wings.

"Um," she floundered, blinking her eyes and regaining her attention on her thoughts when she redirected her gaze to the feathers, "I found one in my room when I woke up... It was on my bed."

That smile on his face turned lopsided, only a single dimple in his cheek. "Then this all makes sense now, doesn't it?"

She didn't bother to pull her gaze from watching her fingers brush through the feathers. Every pass coated her fingers in a little more of that pastel shimmer though none ever left the downy vane. "No, not really," she answered simply, biting back a smile when the feathers ruffled under her touch and a rain of shimmer fluttered to the floor.

"Well," he started, a smile in his voice she didn't need to look up at to know was there, "y'can't see me unless y'have one of my feathers."

The logic settled in her brain slowly. The soothing motion of brushing through his feathers, watching the rippling of the layers when she was sure he wanted to show off a little, and the gentle caress of the down itself against her fingers was the perfect remedy for her jumbled brain. His story seemed less and less outlandish the longer she sat with him. The degree of work that would have to go into pulling off a joke like this, didn't match any kind of payoff she could imagine he'd get.

Besides, looking at him, was it really that crazy to believe that this man was an angel?

"You're really a guardian angel, then?" she started, her voice quiet, "I'm not losing my mind, and you're not some crazy that snuck into my house?"

"'M not a guardian," he emphasized, a relaxed layer added to his voice that hadn't been there before, "'M your guardian angel."

(Y/N) fought back the smile that threatened to tug at her lips. That was a rather sweet detail to get caught up on, she thought. "What does that even mean, then? Like being an angel and all."

"Well, I take care of you." he shifted in his spot as he spoke, turning to sit properly upon the cushions with his back facing the couch though he ensured one large wing still stretched itself across her lap to continuing her exploring. A bright smile nestled its way onto his features as he looked to her, his gaze dropping to her hands more often than not. "I make sure y'don't hurt yourself or get into any accidents. I make sure you're safe, always."

Despite the soothing undercurrent to his tone, a pinch struck inside her at the thought of needing constant monitoring to ensure she didn't land herself in a sticky situation. She hummed, the only response she offered to his short explanation.

It wouldn't surprise her if along with caring for her physically, he was more attuned to her feelings as well, especially with the way he seemingly knew when to glide on from certain subjects. "The worst is when you're cooking, to be honest," he started, a huff of a laugh echoing through his words, "It scares me to see a knife so close to your fingers like that. 'M worried about fires, too; everything's too hot and too sharp in kitchens."

"I haven't cut myself in a long time, actually," she pointed out, pride tipping her chin as she looked up at him through her lashes while her fingers continued to comb through his feathers, "I used to be pretty bad about before, but that's only because I can get distracted easily."

A beat of silence passed. It was the knowing smile on the angel's face that gave away the truth behind her sudden reformation.

"That's you, isn't it?"

A beaming smile made its way onto his features, dimpled cheeks and creased eyes accompanying the curl. It was his turn to show a bit of pride over his caretaking. "Whenever I see y'get distracted, I make sure y'don't slip up. 'M pretty good at it, huh?"

She glanced at her bandageless fingers. "Thank you," she smiled, amusement tinting her words.

Thanking her guardian angel that kept her from losing her fingertips wasn't something she ever saw herself doing. Nonetheless, she was appreciative.

"Of course," he chirped, not skipping a beat.

Shimmer rained down on the cushions of the couch and over the stretch of her bare thighs as she stroked his wings. More than anything at this point, it was calming to feel the brushes of the vane against her skin and trace the structure with her fingertips. She definitely decided he was real, but she didn't want him to take his wings away if she said as much.

With her nervous energy being channeled through the shuffling of her hands, she could focus better on the questions she had flooding her trains of thought. She kept her gaze on her hands when she found the right one to ask: "Do you watch me all the time?"

Her angel's brows pinched together at the implication of her question. "No, no, not all the time," he rushed out, shaking his head as a stray curl of hair flopped over his forehead, "I check on y'regularly to make sure you're okay, but I promise y'have your privacy. When 'm not with you, and y'do need me, something pulls to me to let me know 'm needed, so you're never left without me even if 'm not with you."

A sense of relief touched her system. He'd probably seen his fair share of embarrassing traits from her, but at least he hadn't seen everything. His wings rustled under her fingers as a beat of silence passed. "Does that happen a lot? That you need to come to me because something bad is happening?"

He hummed, shrugging a shoulder up that had his wings following suit. "Not very often, but it's been a good handful I'd say. Why?"

Something in (Y/N) stomach turned at the thought of what could cause those calls out to her guardian angel—things she likely didn't even know were close calls. "Has there ever been anything really... bad that you've had to stop or fix it?"

Her heart thrummed when he didn't immediately answer, only giving her a patient smile as her words seemed to echo in the air between them. "I can't tell you those kinds of things, but that's usually for the better, yeah?"

"Right," she swallowed, dropping her gaze to her hands in an attempt to soothe herself with the sight of her fingers covered in the shimmer that dripped from the feathers. She could see herself becoming especially paranoid if he shared something like that with her.

"But," he continued, a firm edge to his voice as he made a point to meet her eyes when she flicked them up, "let's be a little bit more choosy about how late we decide to walk home, yeah?"

She didn't even let herself think for too long about what that could mean or what could have happened that would prompt him to tell her something like that at their first meeting. "Okay," she agreed, a nod of her head accompanying her words.

"Thank you," he said with his gentle smile returning, the rigidity that had taken over his features having melted away. (Y/N) felt his gaze draping itself over her features, running along the line of her jaw into her hairline. "Do y'mind if I take a look at your head? Y'bumped it pretty hard when y'fainted earlier and I wasn't able to catch you. 'M sorry."

Sincerity burned in his eyes as he spoke, his lips pursing into a flat line as he most likely recalled those last hazy moments a lot differently than she did. "You don't have to be sorry, it's okay," she started, shaking her head maybe a little too fast as the room started to spin. She really did hit her head pretty hard if it was that easy to send her off-kilter. "But, um, sure. You can look."

(Y/N) watched as he shuffled over the cushions in an effort to keep his wing within her grip as he grew closer to her. Those same careful fingers she could barely recall through those foggy moments after she'd just woken up reached towards her face. One hand stationed itself on her chin, keeping her steady as he offered her a serene smile before the other brushed back stray strands of her hair. Tipping her head just right, he was able to part her hair and trace over her scalp with cool fingertips in search of the bump she hoped didn't exist.

She knew she'd spoken too soon when he grazed a knot just off center of the back of her head, the spot tender enough to have her wincing even under his gentle touch.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," he muttered, worry etching its way across his features as he searched through her hair for the exact spot that had her reacting like that, "I'll fix it, jus' give me one second, love."

Just like that, something warm touched the back of her skull. Right where his fingers had once elicited painful strikes through the back of her head was now a sunlight-sweet warmth. It singed away the pain before it even had a chance to be more than a tender spot hidden between the strands, melting away until she was left with a bump that had no pay off when he carefully pressed his fingers against it.

He'd healed her.

"Better?" her angel asked, sea glass eyes meeting hers.

How was it possible he had a healing touch but his eyes looking straight into hers made her heart beat hard enough it could bruise her ribs?

Fluttering her lashes, she found herself back in the moment when she tore her gaze from his. "Yeah," she started, her voice volumes quieter than she expected, "A lot better, actually. Thank you."

A smile of pride curled his lips as he righted the parts of her hair he had moved in his urge to fix her. The hand pinching her chin moved her back into place, leaving her hair to fall over the side of her face just before her angel could tuck the strands behind her ear. He looked happier when he could see all of her, none of her hair covering her features, even if it was nothing other than the hinge of her jaw and side of her neck.

It was then that she realized she was no longer glossing her fingers through his feathers as she had been before, her hands having stopped in favor of putting all of her energy into watching him. Had they always been this close?

Without the distraction of his hands in her hair, she could see the details of his own features much more clearly. Freckles dotted the bridge of his nose and sprinkled the high points of his cheeks, the product of long hours laying in the sun like she could picture him doing in the clouds. Green and gold melded together in his eyes, leaving flakes of buttery yellow while the calming green dominated his iris. His lips were a pretty pink, bordered by scruff that dusted itself over his jaw with tiny blonde hairs mixing with the deep brown that matched that of his hair. The line of his nose was strong, matching his brows and the firm angle of his jaw, though the way he looked at her had his features softening and rounding out into something boyish. Brown curls crowned his head instead of a halo, split down the middle at the moment with the strands curling around his features in a heart shape. Pepperings of blonde hairs touched his temples, another highlight from the sun that seemed to shine only for him.

He really was divine.

Looking at him now, she couldn't believe she didn't immediately believe him when he shared the truth.

(Y/N) startled when he pulled back, a sheepish smile on his lips as he tucked his wings back behind him and shifted away from her. "Sorry," he told her, another apology that he didn't need to give though (Y/N) wasn't sure what it was for this time. "I didn't realize y'were done looking."

His gaze flicked to her hands when he spotted the notes of confusion touching at her face. Looking down at her fingers, she saw they were covered in the shimmer that coated his feathers. A tiny smile plucked at the corners of her lips.

"It's okay. I didn't mean to mess with them for so long," she said, shaking her head as if to shake off his unwarranted apology. "And, um," she started, taking her turn with being a little sheepish under his gaze, "Sorry I freaked out a little earlier—it was just kind of hard to believe right away."

That same patient smile had his raspberry lips curling as he gazed at her. "I understand. I think I would be more worried if you had been happy to see a stranger appear in your home, anyway," he joked, dimples in his cheeks with the way he smiled, "I never thought we would meet like this, so I was a little surprised, too."

What a shock it would have been for him too, (Y/N) thought. Being invisible to her for months only to have the person you're caring for start screaming and faint at the first sight of you. He handled this whole thing a lot better than she would have—and did.

"Do you have a name?" she asked after a beat passed, spying from the corner of her eye as he occupied his hands with the texture of one of her throw pillows, the cover being of velveteen fabric. She wondered how many times he had seen that and wondered what it felt like, but never touched. "Is that something angels do, or?"

A musical laugh fell from his lips, his face in profile with his eyes stuck to the way his fingertips created pictures in the fabric of the pillow. "Yes, we do have names. 'M called Harry," he told her simply.

Her own lips opened into a small smile. "Nice to meet you, Harry. I'm (Y/N)."

Her angel—Harry's—smile grew wider at the sound of her voice wrapping around his name. She wondered if he knew his two front teeth were especially cute when he grinned like that. Like a bunny.

"I know."

"Right," she said, her turn to smile as he looked to her, "You probably learned that a long time ago."

His gaze lingered on her, sweeping over her features in warming cuts. "You're feeling alright? After everything?"

Glancing at her shimmer covered fingers in her lap, (Y/N) took stock of the soothed set of her body. She hadn't felt like this since before she moved out here and started spending so much of her time alone. It was nice not to be the only one in the cottage for the first time. Though, she figured, with everything she learned today, she might not have been alone most of the time, anyway. (She's probably still going to take one of those online quizzes tonight that's supposed to tell her if she's going crazy, though, but otherwise she feels really good).

Offering Harry a kind smile, she nodded to him with her fingers knitting together in her lap. "Yeah, I'm alright."

His smile at her words alone was worth fainting for.

—————

Harry had never cooked before in his life, but if there was any time to start, it was now. Besides, he'd seen (Y/N) traipse around her kitchen hundreds of times at this point. He'd just mimic the things she did.

The thought of his charge brought a small smile to his face.

After a little while longer answering her questions and easing her into the fact she'd had someone in her life that she didn't even know about, he'd left her be for the rest of her day. She needed time to soak it all in, leaving Harry to occupy himself in the clouds while he urged himself not to check on her unless he got that ache in his chest. She deserved rest after the scare he gave her. (Though, he did chance a check in on her after she'd fallen asleep, only to ensure the bump on her head hadn't returned and she was sleeping well).

That was how he found himself in her kitchen while she slept upstairs, eager to attempt his first meal in hopes of giving her something worthwhile to wake up to. He also was a little too excited to give her a reason to stay out of the kitchen; cooking for her kept him from having to worry about her hurting herself.

With a small smile on his face and some attention left to the beat of his heart to ensure he knew when (Y/N) was stirring awake, Harry flitted about the kitchen. His wings were tucked tightly against his back to keep from knocking anything over or making any kind of mess his charge would stress over. It was simple enough to recall some of her favorite things to eat in the morning, the evidence of her breakfasts packed away with ingredients in her fridge and cabinets. While he might not know the details like how hot the burners should be turned to or just how much butter she used when frying her eggs, he knew enough to hope he could make her something special.

Just as he was whisking together the sauce she liked atop her eggs and muffins, Harry felt that stirring in his chest. A smile bloomed across his features, replacing the tick of concentration that had his jaw set in a hard line. She was awake.

He listened in for the sounds of her feet padding over the staircase, a puff of lavender fragrance following after her that came from her diffuser. It was only a few moments later that he could see her pop around the landing from the corner of his eye.

Her hair was sleep mussed and messy, matching her puffy eyes and chapped lips after her long sleep. His heart skipped a beat when he met her eyes, even if they were a bit bleary and unfocussed.

"Good morning!" he cheered, his wings fluffing out behind him.

With her arms crossed protectively across her tummy, skin in goosebumps, she offered a small smile. "Good morning," she reciprocated, volume much lower than his, "W-What are you doing here?"

Tipping his head towards the whisk and bowl in his hands, a toasted breakfast muffin awaiting to be topped by the duo of eggs that were set to be tossed in the pan once he got the sauce as creamy as he could, Harry's smile brightened. "'M making you breakfast."

(Y/N)'s gaze followed down to the spread on the counter. He saw her features soften as she took in the work he put into this morning for her, including the dishes that were already neatly stacked in her sink and the clean counters. "You don't have to do all this," she peeped out, those softened features of hers edging in with guilt where it didn't belong.

"I want to," he assured her, meeting her gaze in hopes of showing her how seriously he meant the sentiment, "You've had a long weekend, and this is a good way to say sorry for letting you hit your head yesterday. Besides"—he shrugged—"I told y'that when y'cook it makes me nervous. So, I can take care of this while y'relax and wake up properly before y'start your day."

He could see the hesitance on her face as she tried to convince herself to let go. She chewed on her bottom lip, eyes dropping to the food that was almost done and the dishes that would take him less than ten minutes to take care of for her. "I... Okay," she finally settled on, a short smile on her lips as if she was worried to show how happy his efforts were making her, "Thank you, Harry."

"Of course," he told her, hoping his positivity would rub off on her and help her settle her antsy nerves that had no place in the kitchen. "Go sit down, 'm almost done."

Harry could feel (Y/N)'s eyes on him as he finished up her hollandaise sauce, a small taste showing him the perfect amount of tartness he knew she preferred. A couple of passes of his whisk ensured it was light and foamy before he moved onto the uncracked eggs. As soon as the whites touched the hot pan, sizzling filling the room, he could hear his charge move from her spot she had carefully taken at the table.

"I-I can help with—" she started, anxiety touching her voice as she fluttered through the room.

From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of her reaching towards the stove, overeager hands turning clumsy. Harry worked quickly as he grabbed at her wrists, keeping her hands from moving any further towards the hot stove, where he was sure her shaky fingers were going to make contact with something that she shouldn't.

With her hands shackled by his own fingertips pressing into the soft of her skin, Harry ducked down to her level to ensure he was within her line of sight. "(Y/N), no," he told her, something stern riding in his tone, "I don't want you to hurt yourself, yeah? Go sit down, 'm almost done anyway. Please relax, I promise 's alright."

He could tell she wasn't listening with the way she dropped her gaze down to their joined hands after he finished speaking. "I should be helping, though. It's not fair."

A delicate brush of his thumb swept over her skin, an attempt to soothe her. "You've had a long night, haven't you?" he pressed, watching as she gave a short nod after a moment, "Please relax for me, then, yeah? Have some juice and sit down; food's almost done."

When her eyes met his, he can tell she was not convinced. A patient smile touched at his lips, the same one he always had when he had to help her without her knowledge before she had his feather. "Please?"

That seemed to be all she needed before she softened enough to give him her own smile and a nod of her head. "Thank you," she repeated, voice quiet just for the two of them while the eggs sizzled away beside them.

"You're welcome," he settled her, unlatching his hands from around her wrists before she was sent off towards the dining table.

Following his instructions, she poured herself a glass of juice from the pitcher he left on the counter. Harry fluffed his wings with a bit of pride once she settled down, the set of her shoulders finally relaxing as he went back to work. He took care to make her breakfast as carefully as possible, ensuring she saw the way he concentrated on his hands and kept himself safe. Maybe she would take a couple of notes and let him worry just a little less when she entered the kitchen.

"Do you... eat?" (Y/N) questioned from behind him, her voice breaking through over the sound of sizzling eggs.

Harry's lips cracked into a smile at her voice, a small huff of a laugh exhaling through his nose. This was much the same way yesterday had gone after she had grown more comfortable with him. He hadn't realized she was so curious.

"I do, yeah," he told her, tossing a look over his shoulder to her before he used a spatula to scoop the cooked eggs out of the pan, "Not very often, though—especially if 'm up in the clouds."

"With other guardians?" she prodded, sounding more awake with the distraction of his life.

"Mhmm," he hummed through his smile as he plated up her breakfast.

The eggs went down first as (Y/N) fell silent, the hollandaise following after. As it all came together, Harry felt a little too proud of himself. This looked just as good as the breakfast she made herself—if not a tiny bit better, though he'd never say that to her. He wanted her to be proud of herself, too.

"Were you all... people? Before all of this guardian stuff, I mean."

"What do you mean?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Like, do you have memories of a life before you were an angel? D-Did you... pass away, or have you always been like this?"

Her question elicited a shrug of Harry's shoulders, his wings matching the motion. "I don't think so, but I don't know for sure. I don't have any other memories before being created. Everything has always been about m'life with you. That's how it is for most of us."

"Oh," she sounded, before a beat passed with her gaze warm on his back. "How long have you been helping me, anyway?"

"Not too long," he told her with a smile, finishing touches in the form of seasonings joining her breakfast plate as he spoke, "Only since you moved out here."

(Y/N) fell silent at his response, a beat passing before Harry collected her breakfast plate and started towards her. Her gaze was pinned to the table with her hands nervously fiddling in her lap. When he placed her meal in front of her, she tore her eyes from the table and looked up at him though she couldn't meet his own gaze.

"So, you've seen everything then?" she muttered under her breath, too sheepish to speak any louder.

Harry's brows knitted in the middle at her line of question. "I make sure y'have your privacy, remember? I promise, love," he reminded her, reaching for her half full glass of juice. Refilling the cup, he waited for her response though the silence stilled in the kitchen.

With her glass full and a warm breakfast in front of her, (Y/N) seemed to soften some though she didn't look entirely comfortable in that moment. "Thank you," she offered, a short smile on her face as she reached for the silverware he brought along with him. She poked at the toasted muffin slathered in the light sauce, Harry worried he didn't execute it to her liking the longer he watched her.

"'M sorry if it's not quite right," he started, taking a spot at the table beside her though he left a good length of space between them. "I tried to copy what I've seen y'do, but if y'don't like it, 'm not offended."

A shake of her head was the first lively response he'd garnered from her in the last handful of minutes. Her hair fluttered around her face, tiny strands having escaped the braid on the back of her head. "No, no, it's not that at all. Thank you, really, Harry. It looks wonderful." As if to prove her point, (Y/N) cut off a bite with the side of her fork and shoveled it in. Her eyes brightened, adding some authenticity to the act he was sure she was putting on for him. "This is so much better than what I make," she told him, sipping her juice between her words, "You definitely didn't copy me."

The praise warmed his skin, flooding to the apples of his cheeks and traveling down his neck. "I learned a couple of things, I guess," he shrugged, "'M happy you like it." Modesty was a good trait, even if he didn't particularly feel humble when someone like her was handing out the compliments.

With his chin resting in his palm and his elbow propped on the table, Harry gave her her space though he couldn't completely wipe the smile from his face. Instead, he focused on tracing over the grain of the wood with his opposite hand, finding pictures in the swirls as if they were clouds.

From the corner of his eye, he could see her take a sip of her apple juice before (Y/N)'s voice filled the room. "What I meant before was—um—, so you've seen everything since I've moved out here—like everything that's happened?" She spoke vaguely, but Harry had a good idea of what she was meaning with the way she couldn't meet his gaze and stuttered over her words.

He didn't want to embarrass her, really. There was no reason to get into detail of what exactly he had seen happen when she came home from her dates and the heartbreak he silently tried to comfort her through. There was no need to tell her that the reason she had his feather now was because he had paid her a visit after hearing her pleading wish about hoping love would come into her life.

"A little bit, yes," he told her, "But, I mostly focus on your safety, more than anything else." He couldn't find it in himself to lie to her, but he figured this was as much truth as she needed.

Nonetheless, despite his careful dance around it all, it seemed he may have given her too much truth. "Okay," she peeped, going back to poking at the yolky sauce and toasted muffins of her breakfast.

Breathing out a sigh, he ducked down to her level. He really hadn't wanted to make her feel off knowing that he had seen those nights. If anything, he had hoped it would make her feel less alone.

"I never peek in on your private moments, or judge you for anything I see, (Y/N). I mean it," he told her earnestly, "I only want for you to be happy and safe. That's all 'm looking out for."

He stayed just where he was, ducking into her view as close as he could without invading her space. A beat passed before he could see her find the courage to find his eyes. She looked less worried, then—less sheepish, and concerned about what she would find when she looked at him only to see the patient smile and kind eyes he had for her. She even turned shy, a tiny bit flustered, when there was nothing pitying or knowing in his gaze.

"Thank you," she told him, sincerity in her tone.

The smile that followed after was the best way to start Harry's day, he decided.

—————

columba: the dove constellation

aahhhh first series in so long and first patreon exclusive series in even longer!! part three is up now on my patreon!! so excited to see what you guys think! thank you so much for reading and sorry for any mistakes! if you have any ideas or requests please send them in!

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