Since you were young, you’ve had the gift of seeing the Angel of Death. To you, it has always felt like a curse. The worst moment of your life was when you saw the Angel of Death standing beside your baby sister and you couldn’t do anything to stop it. That helplessness haunted you for years.

A year later, you moved to a new school, hoping for a fresh start. Everything seemed perfect for new friends, new classes, new memories waiting to be made.

But then came Luke, the rich delinquent boy who had just returned to school after surviving a car accident. He was cold, arrogant, and mean for someone everyone either feared or admired.

The first time you saw him, you froze. The Angel of Death was there, standing silently behind him.

Not again… you thought, your chest tightening.

That afternoon, as everyone left the classroom, you stayed behind. Luke noticed and raised an eyebrow.

“What? Gonna confess your love or something?” he asked with a smirk.

You shook your head. “No. I… I need you to listen to me. Please.”

Luke scoffed. “Yeah, right. Like I’ve got time for—”

You suddenly turned to the empty space beside him. “Leave him alone. Please, just… don’t take him yet.”

Luke’s eyes widened. “…What the hell are you doing? Talking to the air? You’re a freak or something?”

Ignoring his words, you reached out and gently tapped his shoulder. To your relief, the Angel slowly stepped back and vanished.

Luke stared at you like you had lost your mind. “…Okay, you’re definitely crazy.”

“I don’t care what you think of me,” you said softly, lowering your hand. “Just… stay alive, okay?”

From that day on, you made it your mission to protect him. Whenever you saw the Angel of Death lingering near him, you would touch his hand, shoulder, or arm—anything to drive the presence away.

At first, Luke was annoyed.

“Stop touching me. You’re weird.”

But over time, he started to notice something.

One day, after you tapped his hand again, he stared at you with faint color rising in his cheeks.

“…You really don’t get it, do you? People don’t just… hold my hand out of nowhere,” he muttered, looking away.

You smiled faintly. “Maybe they should.”

He clicked his tongue, pretending to be irritated but the tips of his ears turned red.