The night Seraphialion entered your life wasn't anything special—at least, not for you. Stumbling back home from the club with a friend, your laughter echoing faintly through the quiet neighborhood, you had been oblivious to the black-and-white cat lurking in the shadows. That cat, of course, was Seraphialion, bound to his new charge in a role he neither wanted nor chose. With no choice but to watch over you, Seraphialion had taken the unassuming feline form, hoping to stay out of sight and out of mind.

Unfortunately, that plan didn't last long. You had noticed the cat almost immediately, sitting on the curb with wide, luminous eyes. Without hesitation—and possibly emboldened by the alcohol in your system—you'd crouched down and called for it. Seraphialion didn't move at first, watching cautiously, but when you extended a hand, something in him softened. He didn't want to admit it, but your warmth—your genuine, unguarded expression—had caught him off guard. Against his better judgment, Seraphialion had approached, letting himself be scooped up and carried inside.

And so, Seraphialion became a part of your life. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and eventually two years passed. For you, the little black-and-white cat had become your constant companion—a quiet presence in your home, curling up beside you on the couch or sprawling lazily in patches of sunlight on the floor. Seraphialion played his part well, acting the part of a playful, affectionate pet while secretly keeping a vigilant eye on you.

Tonight, however, everything was about to change. Seraphialion lay curled up in his usual spot on your bed, his small body rising and falling in rhythm with your steady breathing. He had grown used to this life over the past two years. Two long, peculiar years of pretending to be nothing more than a black-and-white cat. He stretched lazily, his tail flicking before tucking neatly over his paws. Being a guardian angel wasn't his first choice—or his second or third—but he'd made the best of it. Watching over you in this unassuming form had been... tolerable. Comforting, even, though he'd never admit that out loud.

Then a thud broke the silence. Seraphialion's ears perked up instantly, his body going rigid. He stayed still, listening carefully, and heard it again—this time closer. A faint rustling noise followed, and then the distinct sound of glass shattering somewhere in the house. His feline form stretched before leaping soundlessly off the bed. His paws landed with practiced grace, and he padded toward the door. Every sense was heightened, his instincts sharp. He trotted quietly into the hallway, his green eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. The closer he got, the louder the noises became: faint shuffling, something metallic scraping softly against the floor. In the corner of his vision, he caught movement—a shadow slipping through the living room. He flattened himself to the ground, creeping forward, his tail flicking once before he made his decision.

In a fluid motion, Seraphialion's form rippled and expanded, shifting into his true body. Gone was the small, unassuming cat; in his place stood a tall figure with silvery hair, piercing blue eyes, and glowing white wings unfurled behind him. His bare feet barely touched the floor as he moved, silent but swift, toward the intruder. The shadowy figure turned too late. Darting forward with inhuman speed, Seraphialion grabbed the intruder and slammed him against his chest, locking an arm firmly around their neck. His grip was iron, and his voice was low and commanding as he growled, "Who the hell are you, and what do you want here?"

The figure struggled, gasping for air, but didn't respond. Seraphialion tightened his grip, wings flaring out slightly in warning. "Talk," he demanded, his tone sharp. The intruder choked out a sound—something between a laugh and a gasp—before their form shifted. A sudden force erupted from their back as massive wings—dark and feathered—burst outward, hitting Seraphialion square in the chest. The impact sent him stumbling backward, his wings catching the air just in time to steady himself. Seraphialion's eyes narrowed, and his hands curled into fists. "You've got to be kidding me."

The figure wasted no time, lunging forward with surprising speed. Seraphialion sidestepped the attack, spinning on his heel and delivering a sharp kick to the intruder's side. They grunted, staggering but recovering quickly, their wings folding back tightly as they charged again. Blows were exchanged in a flurry—punches, dodges, kicks that left dents in the furniture and walls. The house creaked under the strain of their battle, but Seraphialion held his ground. He was faster, his movements calculated, each strike aimed to disable rather than destroy. Finally, an opening.

With a swift maneuver, Seraphialion pinned the intruder against the wall, one hand gripping their shoulder and the other pressing hard against their chest. His wings flared out, the soft glow casting sharp shadows across the room. "Enough," he snapped, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but you better start talking." The intruder lifted their head, panting, and Seraphialion froze. His heart lurched as recognition washed over him. He knew those eyes—sharp, fiery, and filled with an all-too-familiar mischief. He knew that face, even if it had been years since he'd seen it.

"Atlas," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. The figure—Atlas—grinned weakly, his breath ragged. "Took you long enough, dumbass." Seraphialion's grip faltered for a split second, but his mind raced. Atlas? Here? It didn't make sense. Atlas, his closest companion from a past life, before everything had changed. Before Seraphialion had become a guardian angel. Seeing him now, here, felt like a punch to the gut.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Seraphialion hissed, his tone sharper than he intended. Before Atlas could respond, a quiet sound froze them both. Seraphialion turned slowly, his stomach sinking as his gaze landed on you, standing in the doorway. Your hair tousled and rubbing your eyes, Atlas took the opportunity to make a break for it and leave. Seraphialion was pissed he didn't get his answer from Atlas—but fuck, there was more important matters, and his mouth went dry. "Oh, fuck." 'I mean, it's not like he can see me, right?'