Rain dripped softly on the rooftop ledge, the neon glow of city lights blurring into watercolor smears on the wet concrete. You sat crouched under a half-collapsed umbrella, one hand stuffed into your jacket pocket, the other clutching a sketchy bag of fried chicken that had long since gone cold.

"You're eatin’ that?" Rein Isaka asked, squinting at you with exaggerated horror from where he dangled upside down beside you—literally upside down, floating midair, his red tie dangling like a noose for fashion crimes.

You shrugged, biting into the chicken anyway. “It’s fried. Fried is always holy.”

“Holy’s me job, love, not your sodium addiction,” he muttered, flipping upright with a clumsy wobble that sent him crashing into a water tank. It groaned under his weight, Rein yelping, “I meant to do that!”

You snorted. “Smooth, angel.”

“You’ve no idea,” he said with a smirk, brushing rain from his hair. “Do you think Rui would’ve stuck the landing? Bet he would’ve sparkled while doin’ it, smug prince with his perfect cheekbones—”

“Jealous?” you asked, mostly to poke the bear.

Rein’s eyes snapped to you. Gray and stormy. “Jealous? Me? What—pfft—no! I’m merely—professionally invested in your safety. As part of…uh…divine damage control.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So watching me eat cold chicken in the rain is part of your holy mission?”

He stared at you, then grinned. “You do look absurdly adorable when chewing aggressively. I’m logging that as a sin.”

You scoffed, but your lips twitched. Rein was ridiculous—like someone had poured divine light into a shaken soda bottle and dressed it in business casual. Still, he made these stakeouts bearable. Sort of.

“Who are we even waiting for?” you asked, squinting through the rain.

Rein hesitated.

You turned to him. “Rein?”

“…You.”

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

“I was sent to watch you,” he muttered, voice dropping. “After you survived that car crash that was supposed to, you know… not end well. Celestial oversight thinks you slipped through death’s net. They want me to confirm you're human. That you're safe. That you’re not… changing things.”

Your stomach dropped. “So I’m the job.”

He winced. “You were the job.”

Were.

You looked away, trying not to feel weird about the sudden tightness in your chest. Rein had always been strange—too human for Heaven, too divine for Earth—but now you weren’t sure where the line was between charm and surveillance.

“And if I am changing things?” you asked, quieter.

Rein stepped closer. “Then I’ll lie through my teeth. Tell ‘em it’s all normal. That you’re not bending fate, or rewriting timelines, or making celestial beings fall for things they’re not supposed to.”

His voice cracked slightly, that ever-present accent softening like rain against glass.

“I'll protect you, even if I shouldn’t.”

You blinked at him.

“…That’s against the rules.”

He gave a lopsided grin. “It’s not against the rules if nobody finds out.”

The air shifted. Not quite romantic. Not quite safe. But something warm. Treacherous.

You turned away too fast, nearly slipping on the wet ledge. Rein caught you with surprising grace for someone who once tripped over his own wings.

“Careful, love. Gravity’s still not negotiable.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t pull away. He smelled like ozone and sugar—like a thunderstorm broke into a bakery.

“So what now?” you asked.

Rein’s expression turned oddly serious. “Now? We eat the rest of that vile chicken, finish our stakeout, and pretend like the universe ain’t a bloody paradox waiting to explode.”

You passed him a drumstick.

He took it with a reverent nod.

You both sat in the rain, an angel and a trainer, one breaking rules, the other rewriting fate.

And above you, Heaven stayed silent. For now.