Let me tell you a little bit about guardian angels. They walk among us, only seen by the lost and the weary. All have the same mark on the bottom of their chins: a black star. They come in many shapes and forms, but always mimic humankind.
But I won’t tell you about all of them -- just one. This one’s name is Soul. She’s one of the more modern angels, wearing a white turtleneck with black sleeves. The angel even got a tattoo depicting wings on her back, just for fun. Soul always wore a grin and spoke in a loud voice.
You may be wondering about the human whom Soul guarded. His name is Ayan. No one would look at the two of them and think they were associated, I’ll tell you this. With Soul’s shoulder-length blue-black hair and Ayan’s short, dyed red hair, they looked fairly different. Their personalities especially differed. Ayan always wore an uninterested look with bandaids on his face and arms. With a black leather jacket and torn jeans, you’d never think he and Soul were friends.
Except they were, in some strange stroke of luck. Some who’ve met them might even say they were closer than friends. But that’s not what I’m telling the story of today. Today, I’m telling you the story of a lonely angel and an unlucky human.
Take a deep breath. You’ll need it.
Ayan walks into the empty cafe, nursing a headache. He’s not having a hangover, he knows this, and this one just won’t go away. With his sketchpad in hand, he makes his way to one of the many empty booths. Only one barista is working at the cafe. Ayan waves his hand to get her attention.
“Yes, sir? What can I get you?” the barista asks. Her face blurs as Ayan looks up at her. WIth a grunt he massages his temple and turns away.
“Croissant, please…” he mutters and looks down at his sketchpad. Only one person’s sketched along with landscapes of the city he lives in. He rubs at the smudge on the person’s face. It only grows worse.
Ayan ignores the barista’s ‘okay!’ and flips through the pages. Why had he been drawing this stranger? Every single page, the person’s there, like an unlucky black cat. In the background, they’re there -- everywhere. Why?
A small plate appears on the table in front of Ayan. On it, a heated croissant. Even though he doesn’t like croissants that much, he grabs his wallet and tosses the money needed in the general direction of the barista.
She fumbles but catches it in the end. With a sigh, she places a hand on her hip and watches Ayan ignore the croissant and flip through his sketchpad instead.
“Waiting for someone?” the barista asks. “You don’t look like the type to eat here.”
“Yeah, waiting…” Ayan replies gruffly. “Still not today…”
“Sir?” The barista sounds nervous. “Are you alright?”
“‘Course I am,” Ayan says, shutting his eyes. “Just have a headache, that’s all.”
The barista huffs and walks back to the counter. Somehow, the silence is more painful to Ayan. He clutches his head and throws his sketchpad haphazardly on the table, almost hitting the steaming croissant. A ringing sound erupts in Ayan’s ears. He bites the inside of his mouth, almost drawing blood.
“Hey.”
Ayan looks up and sees the barista’s blurry face. She’s holding a mug of coffee. He blinks and tries to focus on her face, but his headache really is getting in the way of anything else.
“Mind if I sit here? Doesn’t matter, I’m going to do it anyway,” the barista laughs and slides gracefully into the seat opposite Ayan. She takes a sip from her coffee and sighs. “What’s your name?”
It takes a while for Ayan to reply. He picks at his gloves and eyes his croissant with a bitter look on his face. “...Ayan.”
“Ayan? How nice,” the barista remarks, clearly not picking up on Ayan’s disdain for her. “I once had a friend with that name.”
Ayan rolls his eyes and grabs his sketchpad. “I’m sure.”
“Means fortune, doesn’t it?” the barista continues. “My friend, sadly, wasn’t that lucky. I had to take care of him because he got into a lot of trouble.”
I don’t need your sob story, Ayan thinks to himself and crosses his arms over his chest. They don’t pay you to talk.
The barista laughs softly and takes another sip of her coffee. “I don’t think he remembers me, though. My family saw to that.”
“What?” Ayan asks, suddenly having a piqued interest. “I don’t think I follow.”
The barista tilts her head and sets her half-empty cup on the table. “They didn’t like how close we were. And since my family is… conservative, they didn’t like that. I had to leave him alone. I hope he’s doing okay now.”
“I’m, uh, I’m sure he is,” Ayan comforts without him meaning to. “I think… I think I had a friend like you.”
“Oh? Do tell.” The barista leans against the booth and crosses her arms. The gesture causes Ayan to do a double-take. Familiar? “I’m guessing it’s the friend who you’re waiting for. You said you had a friend like me, though.”
“Yeah, she’s not coming.” Ayan shakes his head. “I thought she might. She loved this cafe… and its croissants.”
He eyes the croissant again.
“I just realised -- I didn’t ask your name.” Ayan looks up at the barista’s still-blurry face.
He blinks and her face clears up. Her light blue eyes shimmer as she looks at him. Her neat blue-black hair rests on her shoulders. A simple mark of a black star marked her chin. Ayan blinks again. What’s the reason he’s interested in another human’s name? The moment he asked, his headache cleared up as well.
“You can call me Soul,” she answers, smiling angelically.
“Weird.”
“What is?”
Ayan pauses, taking in Soul’s appearance. “I had a friend with that name as well.”
Soul grins as if she knew that he was going to say that. With a sigh she takes another sip of her coffee before remarking: “What a coincidence.”
“Yeah…” Ayan looks away from her and down at his sketchpad. The person’s still blurry in all of the papers. “My friend told me not to believe in coincidences… said the world was never so lazy.”
“Smart friend,” Soul laughs. “Are you still going to wait for her? She might come.”
“She won’t,” Ayan sighs. “I’ve known her for a long time. If she doesn’t come right on the dot, she’s not coming. Bit of a weirdo, my friend.”
“Oh, that’s not a bad thing, being on time,” Soul says, sounding a little miffed. “You seem like a person to always be--... Hey, come to think of it, are you early?”
Ayan nods and leans his head back on his chair. “She hated it when I was late. Thought I’d change it up a little. But she’s not coming. I doubt she ever will.”
“Why do you say that?” Soul asks slowly. “I… Did she give any reason that she left?”
“Yeah, said that she’s going home,” Ayan answers. “It’s not like I haven’t had friends who leave to go home, it’s just… I didn’t think she would. Thought she was different. And -- well, she was. She…”
Ayan grins at the blurry ceiling, and Soul stares at the love-sick boy sitting across from her. Her blue eyes sadden as she looks out the window. All she can see is white.
“Like her, did you?” Soul asks quietly, almost fearing the answer.
“Yeah,” Ayan answers softly. “She did, too. So stupidly obvious, at that.”
To this, Soul giggles, snorting a little. Ayan immediately comes out of his daze and stares at her with a sad look in his eyes. He hugs his sketchpad to his chest and lets out a sigh. Soul finally looks back at him, a bittersweet look in her eyes. “What are you looking at me like that for?”
Ayan pauses. His eyes narrow and look away from Soul. “Nothing, it’s… nothing.”
“Oh come on, you can tell me,” Soul says happily. Ayan’s heart fills with an unfamiliar emotion and he looks back at her. The innocent smile on her face makes him hesitant. She nods as if to say go on.
“I don’t know how to see her again,” Ayan mutters. “I… She… I don’t even remember why I liked her. It’s like there’s a big gap in my head where she should be.”
“But you still remember her. That’s…” Soul trails off, staring down at her coffee. “How long has it been since you last saw her?”
“Two… three years?” Ayan grimaces at the fact he didn’t remember. “Been going here every week at the same time. Never saw you here, though.”
Soul laughs melancholically. “I’m going to leave soon. Have to. Hope I at least left a lasting expression on you, though.”
“Ha ha.” Ayan rolls his eyes. “You wouldn’t want someone like me remembering you.”
“You remembered your friend who apparently was an angel,” Soul points out. “It seems you like to remember people who are nice. I’d… I’d like to be that kind of person.”
“Well, sorry, but my friend is a literal angel,” Ayan says. “You wouldn't know how much she was such a perfect angel.”
“This feeling… It’ll go away--”
“No, it won’t.” Ayan, for the first time, glares with actual anger at Soul. “She helped me. And that’s a tough job to do. She always helped everyone at the cost of herself, and that… that is only a small bit of her. I remember that much, at least.”
Soul stares at him, her mouth in a tight frown. Shakily, she places her coffee down on the table. After a moment, she spoke, her voice scarcely a whisper: “Do you miss her?”
Ayan lets out a sigh and shakes his head, apparently angry that Soul would even ask him this question. And in three words, he broke her heart.
“All the time.”
To this, Soul smiles sweetly and taps the mark on her chin. Ayan raises an eyebrow at the peculiar look in her eyes. She looks away out of the window, sighing forlornly. This stranger doesn’t seem at all human. The dappled sunlight reflects on her black-blue hair. Soul’s eyes are glimmering, causing a wave of deja vu to wash over Ayan.
“We’re out of time,” Soul says quietly. Her hands tremble for a moment before placing her now empty cup on the table. “I have to close up. I can bag your croissant for you, if you’d--”
“No, I don’t want it.” Ayan shakes his head and moves to stand up. “Feel free to eat it. Don’t want it to go to waste, after all.”
Soul smiles at him, and there that feeling is again. It’ll go away.
Ayan turns and waves over his shoulder. “Nice service, especially since you’re a complete rookie.”
“You’ve always been observant, Ayan,” Soul sighs behind him. “But when it’s right in front of you, you can be so blind.”
Ayan turns around, but the question dies in his throat. Soul grabs his hand and places something light in it. His fist reflexively curls over the item. Ayan opens his mouth to speak again, but…
“Goodbye, Ayan.” Soul tilts her head, a soft smile on her lips. The warm sunlight makes the impression that she’s glowing. Her lips purse and she takes several steps back. Her fingers leave a lingering feeling on his closed fist. “Give them hell.”
Ayan stares at her. After a heavy beat of silence, he asks: “Will I see you again?”
“No… you won’t.” Soul has her eyes steady on him, as if she was committing him to memory. "You'll probably forget me, as well as that friend of yours."
“I’ll show you, then.” A half-smile appears on Ayan’s face. He turns to leave and waves his fist over his shoulder. “I’d never forget an interesting person.”
The moment he steps out of the cafe, a bursting light engulfs him. Ayan almost turns around, but he knows somehow that Soul’s already gone.
Ayan slowly blinks his eyes open and touches his wet cheeks. A dream I had? No, I don’t have dreams nowadays.
Ayan gets up off his air mattress and stretches. He’d go to the cafe again today, but nothing interesting happens there. Maybe he’ll--
His eyes catch on something unfamiliar sitting on his desk. A sparkling blue feather sits on the middle of the desk. Ayan raises an eyebrow and picks it up to inspect it. He could try to sell it, pretend it has a higher price than it’s probably worth. But once that idea went into his head, tears filled his eyes once again.
Ayan drops the feather and it flutters gracefully to the floor. He moves to step on it, but something in him stops him.
With a sigh, he picks it back up and hesitates before placing it on his newest empty sketchpad.
What a weird feeling… Ah, it’ll go away... It’ll go away….
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