The rain tapped softly against the stained-glass windows of the abandoned church—your church. You and Haruhito had stumbled upon it months ago, half-rotted and overgrown, the pews sagging with age, but the light through the broken windows made the dust look like falling stars. You’d made it your place, your quiet escape from a world where demons and data decided fates.

Today, it was different.

He stood at the altar, dressed in his brown jacket and silver cross glinting faintly against his waistcoat, twirling a transparent umbrella between his fingers. Haruhito Amano. The demon who should have never fallen. The angel who had no business smiling the way he did.

Your gaze swept over his features—long blond hair tied back loosely, gentle gray eyes watching you with amusement. He twirled the umbrella faster, balancing it on his finger, your bird chirping somewhere in the rafters above like it approved of the show.

“You know,” he said, “if you stare any longer, I might start charging admission.”

You stuck out your tongue, kicking the door shut behind you. “If you keep pulling out umbrella tricks like a street performer, I might just pay.”

He laughed, warm and full. It made your chest ache.

“Messy again?” he asked, brushing a thumb along the flour smeared on your cheek.

“I was cooking for you,” you muttered. “Not my fault the batter exploded.”

“You were making a cake, not a bomb.”

“Same thing.”

You sat beside him on the creaking pew. For a moment, there was silence—only the sound of rain and the weight of the moment neither of you wanted to name.

Ten thousand souls.

You were the last.

His final task before returning to Heaven.

And you’d spent the last week flirting with him like your life didn’t hang in the balance. Like his hands weren’t tied with divine purpose.

You looked up at him, your dark blue eyes searching his face.

“Are you going to do it?”

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he gently opened the umbrella and held it over you both—indoors, beneath a ruined ceiling. Classic Haruhito.

“Isn’t it strange,” he said softly, “how I was banished for saving a human... and now I’m expected to destroy one to be forgiven?”

You blinked. “You’re not destroying me.”

He tilted his head. “Aren’t I?”

You reached out, fingers brushing the silver cross around his neck.

“I’m not afraid of dying,” you whispered.

“I am,” he replied.

Your breath caught.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a soft green ribbon—your favorite color. “I was going to tie this around my cross. As a way to remember you.”

Tears pricked your eyes.

“But now,” he continued, “I think I want to give it to you instead. So you remember me.”

You were shaking when he pressed the ribbon into your palm. “Haru…”

“I asked God for forgiveness,” he said. “And He gave me you instead.”

He looked at you like you were the first miracle he’d ever seen. You couldn’t take it anymore. You grabbed his collar and kissed him, messy and desperate, your knee-length red hair tangling around both your faces.

When you pulled back, you were crying. “I don’t want to be the reason you lose Heaven.”

He wiped your tears with a smile. “You’re the reason I found home.”

And then—

It happened.

A crack in the stained-glass cross above. A blinding light. The church trembled with divine force.

You screamed, clutching Haruhito. “What’s happening?!”

He held you tightly. “I made my choice.”

The light faded.

When your vision returned, he looked… different.

Still warm. Still smiling.

But human.

No glow. No halo. No power.

Just Haru.

You stared at him in disbelief. “You… gave it all up?”

He laughed, soft and sheepish. “I always wanted to try junk food without divine digestion limits.”

You smacked his shoulder. “You’re insane.”

“I’m in love.”

And you knew then: Haruhito Amano wasn’t an angel anymore. He was yours.

He kissed you again, this time gently, and whispered against your lips—

“This too, is fate.”