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Angeal, the man of a thousand guilt complexes

Rosa insisted that she didn’t need to be thanked, and slipped from the room.

The temperature of the room itself seemed to dim without her. Angeal closed his eyes for a moment, moving his arm to relax again on the couch, shuddering as a chill made its way through his previously numb skin. The exhaustion and fatigue made it difficult to get his thoughts in order, but his heart swelled with a previously forgotten thankfulness. Rosa had likely saved his life. If he hadn’t crashed outside of the orphanage, would anyone have found him? Would he have simply drowned in the rain? Or would he have risen and walked until he simply dropped dead once more?

You deserve all my thanks and more, the Soldier thought to his savior, releasing a deep sigh, You have no idea … No idea that I wanted to die.

And that was the truth of it. Ever since the memory of his birth, his curse, had returned, Angeal wanted to die. His mind spun over and over again, remembering the horrors that the experiment he was born into were capable of. The wings on his back were only a small part of what made him a monster. He could force his cells into other living beings and change them, control them. He was created to be some sort of perfect monster, not … not just the simple boy he’d been raised as. His entire life, everything, had been a lie.

When Rosa and the children had found him, someone had mentioned the word angel. A word Zack had used to describe him, as well.

He was no angel. The real angel was the one who brought him inside, and saved his life.

The sounds of footsteps grabbed Angeal’s attention, forcing him out of his cyclical thoughts. Rosa reappeared in the room, tending to the kettle that one of the children had prepared when they first came in from the rain. She was no longer soaked to the bone in wet clothes, having pinned her wet hair mostly up and out of the way. A bit of the tension melted away from his shoulders. Good, at least she was taking care of herself, and she wouldn’t get sick.

Rosa began to prepare some tea, and in the meantime, moved here and there straightening out messes and cleaning up. It couldn’t have been easy, looking after so many children. Just how many were there? Angeal peered over the room and saw that the building itself was rather drab and in need of some attention. Perhaps, he could repay Rosa for her kindness by helping out around the place for a little while. There was no way to fully repay a debt of life, but if he could ease her burdens just a bit … Maybe that would be alright.

Angeal forced himself into a sitting position as Rosa approached with the cup of tea in her hands. It didn’t hurt to do so, more than a minor ache here or there. His wings still took up an awkward amount of space, and the Soldier did his best to fold them flat against his back. Inwardly, he sighed. There was a way to make them go away, but that was something he couldn’t muster up the energy for at the moment. They felt … unnatural. Strange.

“Tea … sounds lovely, right now,” Angeal admitted with a heavy sigh, thanking Rosa quietly as he took the warm cup into his hands. It smelled fragrant and spicy at the same time, and even the scent alone seemed to bring up his body temperature a few degrees. He took a cautious sip, testing the temperature against his lips. Oh. He took another sip. Oh, that warmth was … the best thing he’d felt in a long time. It warmed not only his throat and his skin, but his aching heart.

It reminded him of cold nights at home, as a child, sipping warm apple cider.

Rosa’s warm eyes were on him again before she spoke, digging once more into her endless supply of kindness. She’d already done so much for him, and yet she was offering to do more. Angeal wanted to protest, to say that she’d done enough for him, because in reality she had. She’d done more than she’d ever know.

But, the Soldier had nowhere to go. It was storming outside, and he was exhausted and penniless.

“I’m in no position to ask you for anything more than you’ve already given me,” Angeal admitted, looking down into what was left of his mug of tea. A glowing eye peeked back at him from the reflection. He sighed, his shoulders heavy, “But … I haven’t slept in days. If it’s not too much of a bother, I’d really like to let my clothes dry and sleep, just for a little bit.”

It felt like such a selfish ask. Angeal hated asking for anything. Having grown up as poor as he did, he worked hard for everything … Nothing was ever taken for granted. Nothing was ever taken without being repaid.

“I can’t offer you any money,” the Soldier sighed, hanging his head, “I’ll find a way to pay you back for everything you’ve done for me. I swear it.”