Valentines

Matthew was so happy that he managed to get out of work earlier. He pressed the gas pedal hard. The weather was awful; heavy, dark clouds hung just above the roofs of tall buildings and it was getting dark despite it being still early in the afternoon. As soon as he left his office, it started to snow and the roads were getting slippery.

The rushing thoughts in his mind were effectively drowned out by Metallica. "Gimme fuel, gimme fire, Gimme that which I desire..." He screamed at the wheel as he stood at the red light.

The driver in the car next to him looked at his behavior with pity as he roared and waved his lush hair to the rhythm of the drums, simultaneously pulling off his tie and jacket, and tossing it on the backseat.

He was free from all restrictions for the next forty-eight hours. No fancy ties, polished shoes and elegant clothes. He didn't have to make any effort to pretend to have any empathy for anyone. Finally, he was free from playing whatsoever…

Matthew was a fulfilled and happy guy and didn't need anybodys' pity. He wanted to show his middle finger to the driver next to him, but before he could do so, as if a flash went by in his head, he recognised him as one of his recent clients. He was working on the strategy for his divorce case this morning.

The poor guy was another naive believer in love for the grave. He even felt sorry for this client because his wife cheated on him with a 10-year-younger flunkey! What was even more ridiculous and pitiful for him was that after several years of their marriage, it turned out that neither of his two children was his, and yet his wife fought for very high alimony and his house, which he received from his grandparents and which his wife didn't contribute a penny to.

In general, he will explain to all his male clients that a simple prenuptial agreement would spare them a lot of health and a lot of more money, but to no avail. If only his clients were standing a little harder on the ground, he would have far fewer worries than to get out of uninteresting situations.

Matthew was one of the best in that field, but he wouldn't mind having a little less work. He didn't need money nor was he desperate for another divorce case win. He also didn't desire any more spectacular wins on his professional account. His position as one of the best divorce attorneys was long established. Now he was comfortable with not having to do anything else. He worked for all that very hard, but it had paid off. He already had everything he needed for a snug, uncomplicated life. Now he just has to enjoy himself.

'That would be a number - an attorney showing his client the middle finger!' He thought, a bit embarrassed. 'It's like showing your middle finger to your very exorbitant income. Such a gesture - is not right.' For the future he should be more careful with his gestures; after all, he was quite a famous person, jokingly called by his associates as a court celebrity.

He turned his head to the left side and wanted to send a friendly smile to the client, but he had already left.

Someone behind him sounded the horn.

"Fuck you, asshole!" He shouted, but no one heard him. "Damn, how dare you honk at me, asshole!!!" He repeated even louder.

Despite the early hour, the route was really crowded, so he decided to take a detour. In fact, he was making up some more eighty kilometers, but at least he was sure that the traffic would be less heavy and he would get there faster.

After thirty minutes of driving, he finally managed to get out of the traffic jams. The road was not perfectly black, but it was passable. This was the most important thing at the moment as the snow was getting heavier by every passing minute.

On such a route, time passed extremely slowly, even with his favorite music. The only thing that cheered him up was the thought that he would soon see a bunch of his best friends from college.

He was glad to spend Valentine's Day in 'his style', in his favorite chalet in the mountains he admired since he was at a young age, with his buddies, just like every year. In a few hours, he will be sitting by the fireplace, eating rösti, fondue or raclette, drinking excellent wine and most of all chatting merrily with his friends, exchanging curiosities about their professional and private lives.

In the trunk, were all the necessary accessories for the 'proper' celebration of this holiday - a dozen bottles of high-percentage alcoholic drinks…

Lost in thinking about the upcoming party, he was startled when he noticed a sharp turn on his GPS. At such a high speed, he was unable to brake. He hit the railing and the car rolled down a few meters.

***

Matthew was sitting in the snow. It was dim, and a dense fog was hanging around him. His car was standing upside down a few meters from him.

"Holy shit, some fucking breakdown again! The car is almost brand new." He thought. 'As usual - I'm lucky! What about my celebration? Should I ring the guys to pick me up? Where is my phone? Fuck! Is it freezing cold... If I knew I wouldn't take off my jacket or I would change into some more comfortable clothes.' So many thoughts swirled in his head.

A strangely disguised individual sat next to him. He had a lot of bruises, scabs, a black eye, and he was mercilessly disheveled, dirty, as if he had just finished working in the mine. He was wearing rusty, shabby chain mail, short plaid shorts and red sneakers despite it being the snowy weather. 'I must be lucky, because this guy has to be really cold!' Matthew thought. He wondered what battle that individual had just fought.

"What are you staring at?" The guy in disguise asked.

"What a great sense of dressing style! What party are you off to?" Matthew asked curiously.

"Don't you even begin talking about my appearance! That's your merit!"

"Woow, man! What do I have to do with this?" He asked, laughing.

"You're the one who keeps getting me constantly in trouble!"

"Me??? What a joke, man!" Matthew choked.

At that moment he heard a strange noise coming from somewhere behind them. Matthew wanted to see where it was coming from, but he couldn't move his body, even his head seemed paralysed.

The disguised man stood up worriedly and looked around carefully.

Then Matthew saw sooty, still smoking wings on his back. 'What the fuck? I haven't even had a drink yet. Even if I did, I wouldn't hallucinate!' Matthew wondered who was going to make fun of him.

"Cupid, get away from here now, I am warning you! Because I'll punch you so hard that you will remember me for ages!" The disguised guy with wings shouted at the scantily clad boy, who had wings attached to his shoulders, with a bow and a quiver of arrows slung over one of his shoulders.

"You're a poor Guardian! You look exactly like your pupil!" The cute Cupid chuckled. "Oh Angel, you are going downhill!"

The Cupid drew the bow aiming directly at the driver sitting on the snow.

"Get out of here! Immediately!" The Angel exclaimed and grabbed his bow.

"Get off! You're using violence against me! It's against the rules. You won't get away with it Angel, I promise…" The Cupid threatened and began to pluck out the remains of feathers from Angel's wings. Then the quiver tilted and all the arrows flew out and plunged into the Guardians' buttock.

"Shiiiit!!! It hurts!" The Angel hissed in pain.

Matthew seeing these two 'cosplayers' struggling, he began to seriously analyze the events of today. He wondered if he was drinking anything high. That was impossible; it was only Friday afternoon. After an in-depth analysis, he was one hundred percent sure that he didn't touch any alcohol since last weekend when he had a glass of wine with his parents over dinner. Confident that he was not under the influence, he closely watched and listened to the struggling 'cosplayers'.

"You, stubborn Angel, your pupil wouldn't be hurt!" The Cupid said angrily.

"How do you know, you cocky brat?"

"I know my profession well, stupid guardian from seven sorrows. He would even be happy!" Cupid added nonchalantly.

"In this state, the love you gave would kill him!" Angel replied; he was hissing and groaning in pain, trying to draw arrows from his buttock. He was so busy drawing the arrows that he didn't even notice when the Cupid began to tear the charred feathers from his still smoking wings.

"Oh, Angel, you are so doomed! You are both insensitive." Cupid said with pity.

"I will make a complaint to the Boss, arrgh…" The Angel shouted with a scowl of pain on his face, as he pulled out another arrow from his aching buttock. "I will apply for an allowance for work in particularly dangerous conditions!" The Angel threatened.

"Complain, if you dare! I am not afraid of you, you… fallen Angel!" Cupid was choking with laughter looking at his struggle.

Matthew, upon witnessing their actions, noticed that they didn't intend to stop this farce. 'I don't envy your boss, I would have thrown you both!' He muttered. These two, even though they say they care for him, paid no attention at all as they struggled with their fight. 'I guess I should really appreciate the tact and the cleverness of my associates.'

"You should be afraid of our Boss, not me, you sapient creature! You are not following the Rules!" Angel was getting annoyed with all this nagging.

"Oh-h… do I have to?" The Cupid snickered straight into Angel's face sarcastically. "In my profession what matters is the results, only results, not the resources used!" He announced triumphantly.

Second by second, Matthew was running out of air in his lungs more and more. He started to feel pain, not only in his chest but also all over his body. 'Damn! I don't remember any proper training recently so why do I feel like I just ran a marathon?' He tried to take a deep breath but his pain was getting worse. He was shivering and the image in his eyes began to blur...

***

"We've got him! Thank God!" He heard a resonant female voice.

Then Matthew saw a storm of red hair around a smiling, very beautiful face looming over him.

"Another Angel?" He asked with difficulty.

"Yes." She smiled.

He wanted to hug her, but the excruciating pain prevented him from making any movement.

"Don't move, please. You have a few broken ribs."

"Really?" He just choked trying to get a deep breath.

"I said, don't move, Mister!" She ordered him firmly and added in a serious tone: "You may also have some spine fracture. Your car doesn't look good."

"Can I get your phone number?" He whispered in her ear as she leaned over him to listen to his breathing.

Matthew slowly inhaled the scent of her hair. He wondered what brand of cosmetics she used. He could feel the delicate scent of cinnamon, apples and vanilla, although there was an intense stench of alcohol and gasoline all around.

"I'm at work. Besides, I don't date alcoholics."

"Okay, we're packing him into the helicopter before that scrap heap goes up in smoke!" A male voice was heard.

"I'll find you anyway..." Matthew choked out.