Gluttonous Angel

After three days of sleepless contemplation, doubts, and never-ending probable scenario behind the message, Eric decided it's best to meet the person who sent the photograph. There was no doubt about it. It was that ginger-haired photographer guy.

The location written on the photo was at Aereo Skyport, which meant he will have to deal with the aviation security. With a direct order from the Count not to let him pass the gates, it will be a pain in the ass to deal with them. It would take time for Zen to finish his guitar case, and without it, he had a slim chance to fend for himself against multiple ability users. Eric exited Broken Melodies with a sigh.

"Ugh! The sun is still out. Aren't you hot with that coat on?" Zen said as he walked beside him under the shade of his umbrella.

"Not really."

"Stop lying. I know you too well you're probably sweating under that stupid get up."

"Then don't ask if you know already." Eric glared at the pale bastard, wiping away the sweat dribbling from his forehead. "And you look stupid under that umbrella. It's not even raining."

"Is there a rule that you can't use an umbrella when it's not raining, Asshole?" Zen shot back.

"No, you just look stupid. You're going to the convenience store, which is only across the street."

"The sun is burning me okay!?"

"You're not a vampire. Stop being delusional."

"Shut up."

Eric's face crumpled with repulsion. Seriously, until when was Zen planning to play the vampire thing? He just hoped this stupid phase of him would pass soon because it's fucking brain cells.

They both entered the convenience store that opened only a couple of weeks ago. Eric could already feel the weird stare of the cashier and other customers inside. He ignored them and went straight to the ice cream freezer while Zen shuffled to the junk food corner.

After getting everything they want, Eric went straight to the cashier who was still giving that look as if he's a sketchy person. Zen also dropped his purchase on the counter, which looked like half the store's supply. Was he trying to hoard their stock?

"He's paying." Zen pointed at him without an ounce of remorse.

Eric could only glower at the self-acclaimed, blood-sucking fucker. He retrieved his wallet and prayed he still have enough cash to last until the end of the month.

After completing the purchase, the cashier handed them their stuff. Eric refused the plastic bags and demanded a recyclable bag for his ice cream tabs and soda, and paper bags for Zen's paraphernalia.

"T-thank you for your purchase. Please come back again!"

As if he's coming back for their mistreatment and poor customer service.

"Oi! How am I supposed to hold the umbrella with these?" Zen asked as he struggled with the three paper bags in his arms.

"Go figure it out, Dumbass." Eric said as he stuck a spoonful of frozen delight in his mouth and went on his way. He drowned out the squalling gibberish of the shitty sun-hating jerk about heat stroke and never looked back.

'Enjoy sun-bathing, Idiot.'

Eric ventured inside the market with an ice cream stick stuck to his mouth. Sweat had gathered on his nape so he fished out a blue handkerchief from his coat to wipe it off, but the dried blood on the fabric made him stop, remembering that fight he had at the park. Shrugging, Eric pushed the bloody thing inside his pocket. He'll just buy a new one.

And speaking of the fight, the blond seated in one of the food stall looked familiar. What was his name again?

"Miguel?" Eric called out before he could stop himself.

Golden hair bounced when he turned around, his cheeks puffed up and a string of noodle hung on his mouth unceremoniously. Miguel sucked the noodle string with a pop, and Eric didn't know if he should pretend not to know him or not.

"One more bowl, please," Miguel told the troubled-looking vendor without breaking eye contact with him.

Eric's gaze flickered to the stack of bowl beside the blond and—nope! He didn't know him. He swiveled to the direction he came from, but a hand latched on his long black coat.

"Make it two bowls, Mister."

"Why are you ordering two?!" Eric pulled his coat, but Miguel's grip only tightened. "And can you let go of my coat?"

"The other one's for you. My treat, so join me!"

"I don't need you bribing me with street foods!"

"Stop complaining and join me here!"

Eric found himself seated in front of a large bowl of chicken noodle soup. It's not like he hasn't eaten one before, but Miguel's loud slurp made him conscious of the stares from other customers. And he couldn't blame them. The last thing he expected from the angelic-faced boy was gluttony.

"Can you slow down? This isn't a freaking eating contest."

"I'm already eating half of what I normally eat."

Eric eyed the used bowls. And it's more than what he could count with ten fingers. "No fucking way."

"Yes, fucking way. Can you hand me the salt and pepper?"

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you curse," Eric said, handing him the accursed condiments and started eating. "This is pretty good."

"Right?" Miguel sprinkled salt and pepper to his bowl. "And Billy said it's disgusting and unsanitary."

"Speaking of your friends. Why are you not with them?"

Miguel only shrugged and acted like Eric didn't ask the question. He brought the bowl to his mouth and gobbled up the soup. "They're probably back at the ship."

Eric only raised his eyebrows but didn't press the matter. Among the four friends, the blond was the easiest to read, both vocal and body language. While his high-pitched voice irritated his eardrums to no end, it rung pure honesty to Eric. And it looked like he's drowning his frustration with food.

After finishing his bowl of chicken noodle soup, and stopping Miguel from ordering another one, they left the food stall and Eric ended up paying for their meals. Why? Because Miguel forgot his wallet to god-knows-where they're staying.

'Am I a walking credit card?'

"I'll pay you back!" Miguel said, his voice resolute, and he had the hem of Eric's coat in his tight grip. "Let me just go grab my bloody wallet!"

"No, it's okay!" Eric pulled his coat back, but the blond won't let go. "I'd rather not see your stupid friends!"

"They are not stupid!"

"Yes, they are! I got involved in a fight because of them!"

"Well, maybe they are!"

"What the fuck?"

"Just come with me to our ship, please." Miguel let go of his coat, and Eric almost fell in a puddle. "I'd rather not see them, too. For now. But we're already indebted to you because of what happened at the park."

Eric stopped mid-curse and ironed the wrinkles on his coat. "Did you have a fight or something?"

"Kinda."

"That's got nothing to do with me." Eric turned around to leave, but a sudden thought stopped him from advancing. He did say they have a ship, right? That meant they're docked at the Aereo Skyport. Eric sighed. "Fucking lead the way."

Miguel's face brightened. If that's even possible. He smiled and saluted him. "Aye, sir."

The skyport of Aereo was a twenty-minute walk from the shopping district. Eric and Miguel walked side by side, basking in the orange glow of the afternoon sun. People crowded the metro walk more than usual, which only happened during the peak of summer until the beginning of autumn.

"There are so many people from different places," Miguel said, also taking notice of the crowd coming from the skyport. "Maybe they're also here for the Autumn Festival."

"More like the Naked Festival." Eric's face reddened. "Please, don't remind me."

"Why not? We're also looking forward to it."

"Can we just talk about what we need to talk about?" Eric put his C-Scroll back to his pocket, pulling his coat closer to himself. "Wait, are you guys tourists too?"

"We are adventurers!"

Eric wanted to roll his eyes. "Forget I ever asked."

"But it's true!" Miguel insisted. "We came from Maharlika Region."

"You don't look Southeastern to me," Eric pointed out, glancing at the golden locks. "Unless it's not natural."

Miguel combed his fingers through his hair. "It's perfectly natural—OW! What the hell?!"

Eric studied the strand of hair he pulled. "Yeah. It's natural." So natural he wanted to get it checked in a pawnshop.

"What is wrong with you?" Miguel scratched the spot where Eric pulled the strand of hair.

Eric only shrugged and handed the golden filament back to its owner, who slapped his hand away with a grunt. Between silly talks and childish bickering, they reached Aereo Skyport in no time. Eric's eyes zoomed to the guards stationed at the entrance, then he turned to Miguel. "You know, there's one way you can pay me."

The blond only blinked back at him like a lost child. "How?"

"Help me get past these guards," Eric said, pulling his retractable batons from his pocket. "Because of my grandfather, I am trapped within the boarders of Aereo. There's someone I need to meet outside."

"W-wait!" Miguel flailed his arms and dragged him to a nearby tree. "There must be another way. Let's not resort to violence, okay?"

"There's no other way. As soon as those guards recognized me, they will not let me pass through the gate."

"I-I have an idea."

"What?"

Uneasiness flickered in Miguel's cerulean eyes as he pulled the collar of his white button-up shirt closer to his body. "Can I trust you?"

The question caught Eric off guard that he had to blink several times before he stuttered an honest reply. "Yeah. Why?"

"Follow me."

Suspicion churned inside his stomach along with chicken noodle soup Eric ate earlier as he followed Miguel in a more secluded area filled with tall trees and grasses. He wasn't trying to lure him in a trap, was he? Eric couldn't help but to grasp his batons in case a murderer jumped out of nowhere.

When Miguel stopped, they were in front of Aereo's thirty-meter wall border that stretched for miles. The blond pointed to the sky. "Let's cross from here."

Eric's face went blank. "Are you for—hey! Why the hell are you undressing!"

Miguel paused as he pulled the shirt off of his arm. "I just don't want to damage my clothes."

"... I don't follow."

A smile stretched across Miguel's face, his back facing Eric. "Promise me you'll never tell this to anyone."

Eric had no idea what Miguel was talking about. But after straining his brain cells, trying to make sense of what the blond was about to do, he yielded and simply gave a curt nod.

From behind the tree they were hiding, Miguel tossed his shirt to Eric and faced the wall. He bent down, and suddenly, his body emitted an ethereal glow. Then a pair of white wings sprouted from his back.

Wait, what?