Cleite - Hyunlix

Platinum

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Cold. Cold as the ocean floor, the sensation washed over his vertebral. Chilling him to the core, out of breath, a taste of warm rusty iron on his tongue. He tilted his very skull; a puddle of rufous ichor was spilling from his side caught by his murky optics, tarnishing the nearest battered patch of pale fabric with its scarlet tone. He tried lifting his arm to latch onto something, anything to liberate him from the excruciating pain, as his other vacant hand is stopping the cataclysm in his arteries.

"I-is thi-this the e-end?" The brunette asked aloud, shivering, coughing out blood, further ruining his already soiled white shirt. His life flashed before his very bloodshot eyes, like a film reel with all of its pictures on display. His weary arm still hoisted up, with the last ounce of his dying strength, aiming to grab one of his good memories, just to relive and to be his blanket of comfort as the garnet-colored curtains of his feeble life came to a close. He then realized that he had lived quite a forlorn life. Growing up without parents, and left in the care of a foster home ever since he had drawn in his first breath. Building his own company from scratch after years of suffering in poverty only to see it on the verge of bankruptcy. His ailing relationship with his distant girlfriend. All of those were just the tip of the iceberg, an iceberg of wretched existence. One last bitter chuckle with a nip of corroded nails escaped from his ashen lips. Wet hot tears doused his once perky cheeks, now more akin to the texture of wrinkly old grapes, while the universe decided to make him its least favorite child.

Ear-piercing screams ricocheted on the stone walls surrounding the empty alley, Someone was desperately calling his name. Name? The brunette can't even remember his own name, not that it matters anymore. Nothing matters, especially when death is knocking on his door. Collecting his ill-fated soul, draining the life out of him, blighting the tiny bit of hope left on his crippled body.

Pitter patter, pitter patter. The unwavering sound of footsteps running on the smoky-colored asphalt. Briskly coming closer to where the man was lying down, waiting for his untimely demise during the hours of darkness. He spotted a brilliant glow at the farthest corner of the dimmed pathway.

A figure decorated with an ivory robe emerged from the shadows, radiating a glimmering cloak of light. Platinum blonde streaks rested on top of his head, resembling the color of a miniature star to the naked eye. Resting on the blonde's slender back were two full-sized feathery wings.

"Wings?! That can't be right." The dark haired man firmly believed that angels were just figments of imaginations. He must be closer to dying if his mind is making up implausible illusions. Demons don't exist, nor do guardian angels. If he had one, then his life wouldn't be miserable as it was. A handful of feathers molted from its wings, leaving a nest on its every step.

"There you are..." the blonde sniffed, a wave of relief washed over his delicate features. Happily marching towards the brunette, swinging his slim arms. Golden ornaments carefully wrapped around his forearms, a pair of cream-colored sandals protecting his soles from touching the rough concrete. For a second, the brunette had forgotten about his current ordeal, forgotten how to speak, and forgotten the fact that he was on the verge of death. All because of the angelic sight bestowed before him. Stunned by the blonde's alluring aura.

"Who are y-you? And why do you have wings?" he asked while he spat out dried blood, gasping for air. An imaginary knife hacking his lungs, cutting off airway due to lack of oxygen.

"Y-you can see me?!" Panic foiled his calm composure, terrified of losing the dark haired lad.

Only then did the other man know that the brunette's life was truly in danger. He needed to act fast.