The bullet hit his chest, a searing pain that made him stagger. He fell to the ground, a thud echoing. He placed his hand on his chest, a low curse escaping his lips as he saw the crimson blood on his hand. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he hated himself for it.

He shut his eyes tightly, bracing for the end. Then, a blinding light pierced through his eyelids, forcing them open. He was greeted with a magnificent sight. Standing before him, bathed in ethereal light, was you. A beautiful angel, with wings of the purest white that seemed to shimmer with every movement, and hair as pink as cotton candy.

“Oh... angels have pink hair.” He whispered, his voice weak but filled with admiration.