Isamu, with three bold rings on his wings, stood at the edge of heaven, a smirk playing on his lips. The world below, full of humans and their simple lives, seemed like the perfect escape.
Why follow rules when you can break them? excitement bubbled up in Isamu. With a confident grin, he jumped, his wings catching the air as he dove into the unknown, ready to shake things up in the human world.
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Michael could feel the migraine beginning to build up at the back of his head. The chaos of the dinner rush, with its cacophony of clinking cutlery and overlapping conversations, added fuel to the fire as he tried to keep his cool. Biting his bottom lip, he focused on a blank point in front of him as he balanced the three unbearably heavy trays on his arms. The heat from the kitchen mingled with the scent of sizzling steaks and freshly tossed salads, wafting through the air. Arms weren't made to carry such large things! These complaints always fall on deaf ears. Managers never cared what happened to the waiters as long as they made them money. He released a slow, even breath, tinged with the faint aroma of brewed coffee and baked bread, as he moved in the direction where a large party of teens was awaiting their order. Wouldn't the caffeine kick in already to rescue him from hell?
Michael pushed back against the pain and forced a pleasant smile. Avoiding eye contact, he quickly began distributing the food on the table. The sound of plates gently thudding against the tablecloth mixed with the soft murmur of appreciation from the teens. Bitchy Princess ordered the salad and Philly cheese steak. The perm guy got the steak and mashed potatoes. The muscle head, of course, ordered two steaks for himself. Michael kept up the internal narrative until he'd handed out all the dishes.
"If you need anything else, please don't hesitate to holler." Michael offered another polite smile as his eyes scanned the table once more. Thankfully, no one had finished off their drinks yet. Waiting the obligatory five seconds for anyone to raise a complaint or put in a new request, Michael turned and marched away, his sneakers echoing slightly on the Psychedelic Knife's unique checkered floor, knowing that there would likely be another order already waiting for him. Being short-staffed sucked on a regular day, but during a weekend, it sucked twice as bad. The weekends, however, were when all the teens decided to come into the Psychedelic Knife and spend their pocket money on food and drinks.
Living up to its name, The Psychedelic Knife was decked out in psychedelic colors that worked well together, combined with a combined metro and modern furniture design. The music, a blend of retro and modern hits, was a hit or miss, depending on the day. If there wasn't a theme for the week or a special day to commemorate, whoever was the manager for the day got the opportunity to choose the playlist, adding an unpredictable yet lively vibe to the atmosphere.
The only normal thing about the place was the food being served. The chefs kept the courses primarily to traditional American foods except for on Sunday, which was mystery meal day. Despite customers not knowing what they would get, it turned out to be a surprisingly popular twist, drawing in curious diners eager to end the week on an exciting note.
"Please kill me already." Michael's head made a resounding thud as he dropped it onto the marble counter.
"Breaking already champ?" Justin, the manager on duty for that day, teased as he walked past Micheal, patting him on the back.
"What happened to the guy who said he could handle the whole shift on his own? Don't tell me a few bratty teens were able to take him down." The remark earned him a groan from Michael who's head remained slumped on the counter.
"It's not just the teens. There's not enough coffee and I'll be lucky to make enough tips to fill my gas tank for the week." The complaints were barely audible as the waiter grumbled against the marble counter. The hard source did a good job of muting almost everything. Except for the loud clack of dishes being placed atop.
"Chin up. The relief calvary is about to be here soon. Plus you still got two more hours in your shift. Maybe you'll be able to convince someone here you're more broke and pitiful than they are and they'll toss you a hundred." Cheryl the head chief pipped up as she dropped the next order off at the window that separated the kitchen from the main part of the restaurant.
"Cheryl's right. Your five minutes are up. Get back out there with your big bright smile and convince someone to leave you a big Ben." The blonde manager shoved the food over to Michael as he ushered the waiter back to work. And that would be all the sympathy he would be getting tonight.
Michael allowed himself one more deep sigh before he put his professional face back on and headed back into the chaotic sea of noisy customers and clinking cutlery.
The dinner rush didn't end nearly fast enough for Michael. Even with two more people stepping in at the last minute, it felt like an eternity before the last customer left. Even after all the tables were empty, the wait staff didn't feel like they could breathe until the manager on duty locked the door. The whole restaurant practically sighed when the lock clicked into place with a resounding 'kach' noise.
Michel did his small part to help tidy things up before clocking out ahead of everyone else. Between being the first on-shift and earning a shitty amount of tips from the stingy, bratty teens, he was more than ready to get home and face-plant into bed. Everyone else could also manage the few extra minutes to clean up his section.
The thought of his ever-reliable bed waiting for him at home was the only thing that helped him get through the late-night traffic. Even if everything else around him turned out badly, at least his bed never abandoned him. Neither did the goose-down pillows and thick weighted blanket he'd splurged on. Who needed a lover's embrace when one could have a thirty-pound weighted blanket instead? Unlike a lover, it never argued, refused to cuddle, or disappeared into the darkness without a word.
Michael's blissful slumber was interrupted by a sudden violent urge to sneeze as something tickled his nose. Couldn't he even find respite in his sleep?
His annoyance at the unexpected sneezing disrupting his sleep faded quickly as his mind began to awaken enough for him to realize something was out of place. There was no way the feeling against his ear was the wind or the weight from his blanket. Weighted blankets were comforting. They didn't feel like a boulder pinning a person to the bed. The window didn't face the bed. The unfiltered moonlight streaming through the open window didn't quite hit the bed, leaving Michael to rely on his sleep-bleary eyes to determine what was happening.
Michael cautiously opened his eyes and was met with the most enchanting purple eyes he'd ever seen.
"Why hello there, love. It seems the heavens are still shining down on me." Michael could hardly process who or what was atop him before a slender, long hand cupped his chin and something soft and warm pressed against his lips. The waiter could feel his whole body freeze in reaction to this unexpected action.
"Did I hurt when I fell from heaven, or is that just the look of someone who's never been kissed by an angel?" The intruder teased as he broke the kiss.