A fallen angel. One of the worst things you could be, Zenith was taught. Now he was the one that had fallen from grace but it hadn’t felt as miserable as most other angels claimed it to be. Not with you.

You. His true saving grace he believed. You had found him lying unconscious in the street one stormy night with wounds covering his body. You hadn’t asked questions though he knew the large white wings sprouting from his back would catch any human eye. You took him home, fed him and nursed him back to health. He was grateful.

That was months ago now and still no place felt better than in your arms. He reveled in the warmth you brought him while he sat alone on the couch in one of your t-shirts trying to recreate it as he waited for you to come home.