Ch. 10
AMBER
It's been four weeks since the party.
Which means it's been three weeks since I stopped answering Julian's snaps and stopped meeting up with him.
Do I feel bad? Of course. I’m not heartless. But I honestly just couldn't bring myself to keep going in the end. My intention hadn't initially been to ghost him, but relationships don't come out of college parties. It was stupid that I'd even gone along with Mac's plan like he had a clue what he was talking about. I’m not ready to do anything the way I am now. Best to just leave it alone. Julian will find some new girl in no time.
The one flaw in that plan? Mac doesn't know yet.
Or, I don't think he knows yet. I for sure haven't told him yet, but who knows if he's read my mind and already figured it out. My plan was to tell him today when he came down from Heaven, but I haven’t decided how. I still remember how he acted when I originally told him I didn't want to look for another boyfriend. It makes me think there’s something about all of this that he isn’t telling me. If I suggested finding another candidate, or even taking a break for a month or two so I could breathe, I wonder how he’d react.
"Now you have to draw two."
Mac blinks. "What?"
"I put down a 'draw two' card," I say. "So, unless you have one to stack on top of it and make me draw 4, you've got to draw."
Mac peers at the pile of cards he has in his hands, then looks at me. "This game has so many rules."
Rolling my eyes, I pick two cards from the deck and slide them across to floor to him. We're sitting cross-legged facing each other in my dorm room, surrounded by different cards and board games. I’m determined to teach him as many different games as I can.
Mac is back in the green shirt and pants he wore the first day we met, and I’d had to stop myself earlier from suggesting another shopping trip instead. Trying to convince him to change out of that shirt is like trying to tell a flat Earther that the Earth is round. It’s in one ear and right out the other.
I wave my four cards in the air, saying, "It's not too bad once you get used to it."
He picks the two cards up and stares at them. "So, what now?"
"That skips your turn, so now it's me." I put down a red 4.
He looks at my card for a moment, and then shuffles through his deck. He puts down a red 6. "When can I put down a green card again?"
"What's with you and green?"
"It is a nice color." He blinks again. "What is that?"
I point at the wild card I'd just put down. "Read what it says," I say, trying to encourage him to figure out the answer by himself. "Look at everything that’s on it. What do you think it means?"
Mac scrunches up his face. "I cannot."
"Can't what?"
"Read your language."
I freeze completely. "You can't?"
Mac is going through the hundreds of cards he's holding now. Maybe I should’ve gone a little easier on him. "Angels, we speak and write in a completely different language than humans,” he says. “I only know how to speak English because it is the language that you, as my chosen, speaks."
He pauses for a moment. I noticed that whenever he's thinking about something really hard, he gets this neutral look on his face and goes completely still. It's like all the energy is being pulled from the outer parts of his body and into his brain to process whatever he's thinking about. It's cute.
He blinks then and continues rifling through the cards. "I believe the proper translation for the name of the language we speak into your human tongue in English would be...Oegarian."
He puts a card down, then motions for me to do the same. Completely forgetting the wild card, I reach for the deck and draw a card, saying, "Wait, so you really can't read English?"
He shakes his head.
"Wow, that’s insane. Then, can I hear what your language sounds like?" I ask, leaning forward.
He places another card down. “It is unintelligible to beings other than angels. But if you would like to hear, I will say something."
Mac takes a deep breath, then opens his mouth. The sound that comes out of his mouth is like nothing I've ever heard before. His voice goes down two octaves. His lips are moving like he's talking, but there's only a single, low-frequency sound coming out. The sound seems to shake the entire room, and I can feel the bass thundering in my chest as it resonates through the area. The books on my shelf begin to rattle, and I grip my shirt in my fist tightly, eyes wide as I stare at him.
Mac closes his mouth then, and the beautiful sound shuts off.
I’m shocked. "I don't know what I was expecting, but that was so cool."
He motions for me to place a card down. "Thank you, Amber."
I draw again. “What did you say?”
“That this game is needlessly complicated.” He’s frowning so hard at his cards, I almost laugh. “And there are not nearly enough opportunities for green cards,” he adds.
“Well, I‘ll make sure to send a complaint to management about that.”
“Thank you, Amber.”
It’s silent between us for a moment, but a comfortable silence. We go back and forth for a little longer until I finally reach uno and win.
Leaning back on my palms, I say, “Mac, can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
I search for the right words. "Well, I've been thinking about the whole Guardian Angel situation. Does everyone have their own specific angel? I want to know how it works. Tell me anything you can."
He looks surprised at the question. "Well, there are hundreds of thousands of angels in Heaven, and every angel in Heaven has two jobs. One, to transport human souls through the gates of Heaven to let them reach eternal peace. Two, to be a Guardian to a living human on Earth."
"Right," I say. "But then that means both Silas and V have their own angels, right?
Mac shakes his head. "It is not impossible for a single Guardian to have more than one chosen at a time. You humans do outnumber us, after all. The more experienced angels can have seven, sometimes, eight different chosens at one time. The typical Guardian watches over their chosen for however many years it takes to find their soulmate, guiding them through their life. Once done, the angel either takes a few years off and then returns to find another chosen, or they immediately jump back into the job again."
I nod. It’s still crazy to think about, but I understand for the most part. Sort of.
Mac is quiet for a second, but it looks like he's thinking. Then, his blue-gold eyes light up, and he asks, "Did you know you could color your food?"
"Huh?"
"I was walking around your school," he explains, "and I saw your friends Morgan Lancer and Veronica Brash ahead of me." He looks down at the uno cards on the ground. "I wanted...I wanted to greet them. I wanted to talk with them again."
His voice has grown quieter, his gaze softening. I find myself staring at him.
"I said hello, and they told me they were going out and asked me to go with them," he continues. "They brought me to a store, and I saw this strange liquid. I asked what it was, and Morgan said it could turn food a new color."
I think for a moment. "You mean food dye?"
He nods rapidly. "Yes, I believe that is what she said. I asked her more about it, and she gave me a tiny bottle of the substance. I would like to try it some time. I am not capable of eating, but I would like to see how it works. She allowed me to pick any color I wanted, and I chose green."
I begin picking the cards up off the ground. "You've got a weird obsession with green. Like freakishly weird.”
He watches me. "I like green. I like the green in this shirt very much. I had never thought much about colors before, but Earth is so much more vibrant than I thought possible. Do you have a color you like, Amber?"
I pause. Honestly, ever since I was a kid, I've debated over whether blue or purple was my favorite color. But lately, I think I've started leaning towards one over the other.
I lock eyes with him. "Blue. I like blue."
He holds my gaze for a second before getting on his knees to help clean. Though, he only picks up the green cards. I leave them to him, aiming for all the other colors.
"Well, I'm glad you're enjoying life on Earth," I tell him.
"Yes, I am." He grips the cards in his hands a little tighter. "Heaven has been exhausting."
"What do you mean?"
"My partner."
"Partner?"
Mac nods. "Remember I said that angels lead human souls through the gates of Heaven? There are thousands of gates in Heaven, with two angels assigned to each. My partner, Harahel, she..."
His voice trails off. I stop moving, watching him. Shaking his head, he says, “She believes...that I am faulty. That I am something that needs to be fixed. That I cannot find your true soulmate. She has had three chosens, and she does not like that I am still on my first. She is...upset to have a partner who cannot use his powers correctly."
He’s struggling to find the right words to say. I’ve never seen him at a loss for words before. I’m on my knees, and I crawl closer to him. He looks up at me. For the first time since we met, we’re eye level.
"Well, if you ask me," I say, "your partner sounds like a bitch for not supporting you."
"I do not know that word."
I huff a laugh. "It means she's a rude person."
"Oh." Mac frowns. "She has her beliefs, and with good reasons. I have not exactly proved that I am a worthy guardian angel yet. I failed so many times, Amber."
"Mac, you aren't really helping your case here." I put my hands on his shoulders and push against them. Once he realizes what I’m doing, he sits back again. I sit too, placing the cards in a stack next to me.
He’s close. I hadn't realized how close, exactly. Our knees are touching. He looks drained, which surprises me, like it physically hurts that this partner of his doesn’t support him. Mac told me before that angels don't experience emotions like humans do, but now I’m wondering if he just doesn’t understand the things he feels. I want to help him understand.
But...there’s definitely something holding me back. Pushing back the words I want to say. Freezing the gestures I want to make.
No, I scold myself. Mac is different, and not just in the sense that he's not human. I can trust him.
I want to reach out and take his face in my palms, like he's done to me before. His hair reaches almost down to his jawline, so I’d have to slide my fingers underneath it to touch his skin. Slowly, my hands move, and I open my mouth to speak.
But nothing comes out.
It feels like my hands are holding 10-ton weights. I can’t do it, and it hurts. I can’t even do this one thing. Why is this so difficult for me now? Every muscle in my body is screaming for me to put my hands down, to stop what I’m doing.
My hands are hovering above my lap now, shaking, and Mac finally looks down at them. Reaching out, he wraps his own hands around mine and holds our conjoined hands up between our faces, staring at them.
"Amber, you are trembling," he says, his voice laced with concern.
I nod, letting out a nervous laugh. “It's...just chills. It's cold in here."
He frowns. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, don't worry."
The weary expression on his face from before is gone, replaced with a look of confusion. For a second, panic shoots through me as I remember the bond. Does he know, even without me saying? I've always been good at having a poker face. What does my face look like right now?
He's still holding our hands up, and he leans forward and rests his forehead on them. My breath catches in my throat.
"Are you...sure you are alright?" His voice is barely above a whisper.
I can't respond. If I do, I know I'll answer honestly. But more than that want to tell him, more than that want to help and comfort him, there’s this resistance I can’t seem to get away from. Something stopping me from telling him the truth. I can feel that fear taking over. Those hateful voices in my head telling me What do you think you're doing? You want to ruin another innocent person? Tell him everything is alright? Fool him with your sweet words and actions?
I pull my hands back instantly. The voices quiet.
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TO BE CONTINUED...
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I felt like a chapter about Mac learning human things needed to be made.
-Zuffy <3
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