"Once you heal a person, you can no longer heal others, including yourself, Fighter. Did Lexus not tell you about this?" Archangel Michael's voice resonated with solemnity as he reminded Fighter of the consequence of his healing power.
He had been summoned by the 'Angel of the Lord' because Fighter had been seeking guidance in his dreams. Fighter had sought out Archangel Michael, who was renowned as the healing angel, to inquire about his abilities.
"Now that you mention it, Lexus did tell me. I was so worried about Saint getting hurt that I used my power immediately without thinking about the consequences, and I forgot everything," Fighter replied, his head bowed in remorse.
"It's already too late, Fighter. You can only heal this person once in your entire existence."
"I have no problem with that, as long as it's Saint," Fighter said, glancing towards Archangel Michael, who sat solemnly on his wooden chair.
"Fighter, remember to control your emotions. Complete whatever tasks you have on Earth first before anything else. Do you understand my words, Fighter?" Archangel Michael's tone was firm and authoritative.
The seriousness of the angel suddenly made Fighter tense. His uncertainty and the weight of his responsibilities were pressing upon him.
"But I...I don't even know what to do," Fighter insisted, feeling overwhelmed and desperate for guidance.
"You are almost there, Fighter," Archangel Michael reassured him cryptically.
"Wait...wait..." Fighter's voice faltered as he tried to grasp the meaning behind the angel's words.
Then everything went dark, and Fighter slowly opened his eyes to find himself beside a sleeping Saint. A soft smile spread across his face as he admired the peaceful and beautiful expression on Saint's face. Fighter couldn't resist gently touching Saint's soft cheeks.
"Saint..." He whispered tenderly.
He remembered what the Archangel had told him—that Saint was the only person in the entire universe he could heal. But Fighter wasn't worried about this limitation. As long as it was Saint, he was willing to risk everything. Saint was the only person on Earth who mattered to him, and he would do anything to protect him.
Saint then stirred in his sleep, pulling Fighter even closer to him. Their faces were now just inches apart, and Fighter could feel Saint's soft, steady breath on his skin. Despite Saint's calmness, Fighter felt a surge of panic. His heart raced, and he struggled to control his breathing.
Suddenly, Saint shifted, and Fighter felt their lips brush lightly. A soft moan escaped Fighter as Saint's lips touched his. Instinctively, Fighter tried to pull away, but Saint gently tugged him back. Fighter tilted his head back slightly, causing Saint's lips to land softly on his jaw.
"S..Saint," Fighter stammered, his voice trembling. "B..Breakfast..."
___
"How's Z... Fighter?" The CEO inquired, her tone showing concern as Saint sat in her office for their project discussion.
"He's doing fine, ma'am," Saint replied calmly, taking a sip of his tea.
"My husband decided to give Fighter an opportunity to work with us. Are... are you fine with it, Saint?" The CEO asked, her voice hesitant.
"I'm fine with the offer, but of course, I should discuss it with Fighter first," Saint responded thoughtfully. "He'll appreciate the opportunity."
The CEO nodded, seeming relieved by Saint's response.
She was about to speak but a knock from the door caught their attention.
"Come in," she ordered, and the door swung open.
"I'll take my leave then, ma'am," Saint said as he rose from his seat. "Update me about it, Saint."
With a nod, Saint made his way to the door. He paused as he passed the tall, tanned man in a suit who had just entered the office. The man returned a forced smile, which Saint ignored as he continued on his way out. Just as he reached the door, his phone buzzed with an incoming call. He glanced at the caller ID and sighed before answering it.
Yes mom?"
"I'm doing well."
"No, mom..."
"I won't do it."
"I am happy."
"If we're just talking about this, I'm hangin—"
"I'm hanging up, mom."
Then he ended the conversation and heaved deep sigh in disbelief. He went back to their office and continue what he was doing earlier.
"Saaaaaaint! Oh my god! You have an amazing boyfriend! OMG!!" Zol squealed as soon as he opened the door.
"I don't have a boyfriend, Zol," Saint rolled his eyes.
"Whatever, Saint. Your Fighter is going viral!" Zol excitedly waved her phone.
"He's one brave man," Saifah said, slow clapping his hands.
"Have you seen it, Saint?" Zol approached him and showed something on her phone.
Saint smirked at the video playing on the screen.
It's a video from the supermarket incident a week ago, capturing Fighter confronting the bad guy. The angle was perfect, showing Fighter's face clearly. Saint had seen it on the news yesterday while Fighter was still asleep, so he had no idea about going viral. The first time Saint watched the video, his heart skipped a beat as Fighter smirked at the man, provoking him. Fearless and in control, Fighter's demeanor was captivating. The way he handled and diffused the situation was incredibly impressive and attractive, Saint thought to himself.
"OMG! Saint?! You're blushing!" Zol cheerfully teased him.
"Oh...I...I'm not." Saint snapped out of his daydream and awkwardly walked back to his table.
"See? If you're not dating Fighter, then you like him. Ask him out already, sir!" Zol declared matter-of-factly.
"Isn't it obvious that he likes him? 'Fighter is waiting for me, sorry' is always his excuse at every dinner," Saifah added, rolling his eyes.
Saint went silent, listening to his nosy coworkers, but he could feel his face turning red. He busied himself by clicking on something on the computer screen.
"Back to work," he calmly said, clearing his throat afterward.
Saint arrived home around 7 PM, eager to finally relax and cuddle with Fighter after a long, tiring day. Upon unlocking the front door, cheerful music from the television greeted him. His eyes widened in surprise, causing him to drop his handbag when he entered the living area.
The opened snacks and chips were scattered across the floor, and Saint noticed opened cans of beer rolling around, some still unopened. As he glanced to his left, he saw Fighter emerging from the bedroom door, his face flushed from drinking. But what surprised him even more was Fighter standing there in just his boxers, his wings fully extended and shimmering in shades of blue, sparkling and dancing to the rhythm of the music.
"My Shhhaaaiint ish finalllyy...hhome." slurred Fighter as he approached Saint in a zigzag manner.
"Fighter..." Saint struggled against Fighter's tight hug. Eventually, Fighter loosened his embrace and downed the remaining beer in his hand.
"Oh?" Fighter pointed at Saint's lips. "Are thishh lipssh mmine?" He clumsily touched Saint's lips.
"Uh, yeah," Saint stammered, taken aback by Fighter's question.
"Thhheey aree? Kissh me Shaaaint!" Fighter leaned forward for a kiss, but a panicked Saint stepped back and held Fighter's waist to stop him.
"Yyouu want to kisshh me...now you don'tt anymoore!" Fighter pouted and crossed his arms over his chest.
Saint snorted at Fighter's whining. "I thoought Shhaint love Fighhter." the pouting, tipsy Fighter said sadly.
"Saint does love Fighter," Saint replied gently, cupping Fighter's face. Fighter looked at him, his eyes sparkling at the statement.
"You do? Kiss me!" Fighter leaned forward, pursing his lips. His wings flapped once, causing Saint to blink at the sudden gust of wind that brushed his face. Saint remained still as Fighter drew nearer. Suddenly, Fighter squeezed Saint's face and planted a quick, noisy kiss on his lips. After releasing his grip, Fighter kissed him again, this time with more intensity, before relaxing and letting out a snore.
Startled by Fighter's weight on him, Saint wrapped his arms around Fighter's back to keep him steady. Fighter's wings slowly disappeared from his back.
"Adorable," Saint grinned at the sleeping angel, giving Fighter a gentle peck on the lips.
