As told by G, a Chancegiver
It was a miracle that we made it to the guy’s apartment.
He fainted and woke up about four times on our way there. As it turns out, we were only ten minutes away from his place, but it took us nearly an hour and a half to get there. I ended up carrying him on my back for the last couple of blocks. Luckily, it was a freezing Saturday morning and there weren't as many people walking by as there would have been on a work day. To most bystanders, we were the classic couple of irresponsible kids stumbling their way back home with a little too much alcohol on them. I’m certain someone would have called the cops otherwise; Mathias looked like a fucking three-day corpse.
He had no keys on him, so I had to wait until a neighbor lady of his went out to walk her tiny dog to sneak into the building.
When we finally got to his apartment, I was surprised to see that the door was wide open. The keys were still hanging from the lock. Damn. The kid must have been truly out of it. I had seen all the possible variants of that grim scenario a thousand times before since I became a Chancegiver, and yet it got to me every time. There was something deeply sad and lonely in those little, subtle clues of somebody’s last moments.
I closed the door with my hips and dropped the dead weight of my new protegé on the messy bed. I gave myself some time to catch my breath. Chancegivers are not exactly alive, but in order to operate on Earth, we are given these so-so bodies that have just enough corporeality on them to allow touch and other physical stuff humans need. It’s convenient in a way, but at the same time, it comes with a whole set of annoying setbacks, like having to go to the bathroom now and then, or getting agitated if we take it too far with aerobic efforts.
Once I got it together, I looked around. Yeah, the place was your average glum den. A complete mess, dark, cold as balls. I sighed.
However, there was something about the place that caught my eye. Every single wall was decorated. No, decorated is not the right word, that sounds like fancy Interior Design magazines, and what happened there was entirely else. There were handmade drawings covering every inch of the walls, done in all kinds of techniques.
I walked around, fascinated. Ballpoint pen, oil paint, pencil, color markers, crayons, stickers, collages made with magazine cutouts, even charcoal. Faces, animals, fantastic creatures, landscapes, comic panels, abstract pieces. In every possible size. It was breathtaking.
I turned to Mathias, amazed. The guy clearly had entire universes spinning inside that head of his. As someone who can’t even draw a stick figure to save their life, I felt sincere admiration. I wondered what his story was, what had happened to him. How could someone with such a versatile imagination be so down in the dumps to end up jumping from a bridge?
The walls surrounding his bed were the most whimsical of them all. A huge winged lion with clear blue eyes guarded the headboard. It was pure white, truly a magnificent beast, I thought. I loved it. I have always had a thing for monsters and fantastic creatures, and that lion was so well drawn you could almost see it breathe.
On the opposite wall, right in front of the bed, the life-sized portrait of a beautiful young woman stood straight. Her eyes were so painstakingly detailed that it seemed she was staring right into your soul.
Yikes. That was the girl Mathias had shown me in his memories. All righty then. Someone’s obsessed. I was not gonna judge. I just had to look away from the creepily realistic depiction of the ex-girlfriend and pretend she wasn’t there.
Back to work. I turned on the heat. The place was fucking freezer. Mathias was deadly pale and shivering. His clothes were wet from the snow. I had to get him out of them right away, but, forgive me all the mighty Gods of Anime, I was not undressing an unconscious person.
I shook him as gently as I could. Nothing. I shook him with a bit more energy. No response.
Oh, well. I tried. I slapped him across the face.
Mathias yelped and opened his eyes, confused as all hell. He was disoriented; he looked baffled with a hint of feverish irritation.
He mumbled something unintelligible and tried to get away from me.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay. I won’t hurt you,” I said, speaking as softly as my impatience would allow. “Your clothes are soaked. We need to get you into something dry and warm before hypothermia fucks you up. Do you understand?”
He stared at me drowsily and nodded like a kid. I chuckled.
I fished a wrinkly set of dry pajamas from the tangled swirl of fabric pressed inside the cupboard and left them on his pillow. I helped him take off the damp clothes and threw them into the washing machine while he changed. Once he was finally done, I made him lie down and cover himself with a thick duvet.
He looked a tiny bit more alive but still sickly and pale as a ghost. The blankets alone wouldn’t do it. God knows when was the last time he had eaten something.
“Very well, step one complete, on we go to the next stage,” I announced, smiling at him. He didn’t smile back. He just blinked in silent confusion. I had seen that before. It was pretty common. He was in shock.
I went to the kitchen without much hope of finding anything useful, and my suspicions were on the money. I opened the fridge and clicked my tongue. Ah, man. There were old fridges rusting away in dumpsters that had more to work with. All he kept there were half a dry lemon and a small pot with some unidentified substance covered in mold. No warm, comforting home-cooked dinner then.
I inspected the cabinets and found one single box of chamomile tea. No sugar, though, but that was good enough. There was a kettle. There was a single clean mug. It would do.
I heated the water and brewed the tea. It was fragrant and had a lovely color. It was the nice stuff. Undoubtedly, wall-girl had left it behind.
I took the cup to him and helped him sit on the bed, his legs covered with the duvet.
“Ok, this should calm your stomach and warm you up. Drink it while it's hot.”
He took the cup from my hands, stared at it for a moment, and glared at me with distrust. I couldn’t help a laugh.
“Don’t give me that look, it's just tea,” I assured, shaking my head. “I'm not gonna poison you. That would be kind of against our contract, right?”
He was still reluctant to drink. He squinted. He was having trouble focusing.
“What are you?”
Ah, the question. I hesitated. This was the first time one of my protegés remembered the contract. I had never had to address such a query before, usual procedure was erasing their memory and jumping right into making them fall in love with me.
“What do you think I am?” I asked, to win some time.
He pondered for a long time, eyes fixed on the tea. He then looked up at me in wonder.
“Are you… are you an angel?”
I had to bite the insides of my cheeks to keep a roar of laughter in check. I did my best to put on a serious mask.
“Well... Truth be told… I am indeed an agent of the Almighty Father,” I declared, gravely. He gasped and almost dropped his cup.
I couldn’t help myself. I laughed out loud.
“Nah, sorry, I can't do it! Oh my God, an angel?! What are you, six?”
He blushed, embarrassed, and did a huge effort to get himself together just enough to sass me.
“Well, a– a random guy appears out of nowhere and– to save my life, just in the last possible second and then– and then he pulls all that… weird… magic stuff on me! What do you expect me to think?”
He was getting agitated. I tuned down the mockery and pushed a small couch next to the bed. I sat down and smiled at him.
“Fair enough. No, I am no angel. Nothing further from it.”
“Then– then what are you?”
I hesitated. Oh, well. Fuck it. I’d just spill the beans. The situation was a hot mess already and given his current state of mind it was unlikely he’d remember our conversation anyway.
“I'm a Chancegiver.”
“A chance– what now? That word doesn't exist– wow this is really good,” he interrupted himself, tasting the tea at last. “What is this?”
“Chamomile. With an itty bitty hint of fairy dust,” I added, winking at him. He frowned and motioned to spill the tea on the floor.
“Just kidding, just kidding!” I chuckled, stopping him. “I only used the stuff I found in your kitchen dude, chill.”
He frowned, but still took another sip. He sighed, soothed.
“I never tried this before,” he said, slowly. “Mia used to drink it.”
Ah. Mia. That was wall-girl’s name.
“Your little ray of sunshine?” I asked, resting my chin on my hands.
“Yeah. That's what I called her. She hated it,” he added, smiling warmly. I blinked. All of a sudden, he looked entirely different. His whole expression softened. For a second, he looked young. Ah, man. He was young, probably in his very early twenties. It was so sad.
He finished the tea and got so drowsy his eyes closed while he was still sitting down. I took the cup from his limp hands and helped him lie down.
“Hey. Get some sleep, okay? We can talk when you wake up. Try to rest,” I said. His long hair was all over his face. I carefully moved it away from his mouth, so he wouldn’t drool on it. He nuzzled my hand, half-asleep.
“I love you, Mia,” he whispered. Ah, crap.
He succumbed to a heavy sleep that I was very thankful for. I needed to contact my superiors at once.
The situation was dire and unheard of, at least for me. Not once during my extensive training had I heard about protégés remembering the contracts with their assigned Chancegivers. What was going on? How was I supposed to help him if he knew what I was doing? Was he even allowed to know about us? Keeping our true nature hidden from humans was rule number one in the book. It was too dangerous to go on without guidance, both for Mathias and me.
I tried to focus and reach out to my mentor.
“Andrew, are you there? I need you,” I pulsed in my head, eyes closed. Nothing. Damn.
Okay, fine, Andrew was busy. No big deal. There was always his second in command.
“Wolf. Wolf? Wolfgang, God dammit!”
Ugh, where the hell were they? If they were muting me out to bump uglies while on the clock again I would set them both on fire. They were too damn old to be pulling that crap so often!
I scoffed and walked around the narrow room, growing desperate.
“Bird? You there?” I mumbled, urgently.
There was an instant buzz and with a small sparkle of turquoise glow, my darling hummingbird materialized right in front of me. He had vanished without warning after the contract was signed, and I had been too preoccupied dragging Mathias’ limp body through the snow to notice until then.
The lil’ bird flew to Mathias, quickly checked that he was fast asleep, returned to me, and swiftly shape-shifted into the 6.2 feet gentle giant of a man that took my breath away every time he looked my way.
“I’m so glad you showed up,” I said, hugging him with great relief.
“Always, G,” he answered, kissing the top of my head. I giggled. I was barely 5 feet tall. Every time he kissed me he was on the verge of breaking his spine. Well, his metaphorical spine. Unlike me, he was not corporeal.
“Where were you? Andrew and Wolf won’t answer me,” I groaned, upset. “I can’t navigate this shitfest alone.”
“We had to attend an official meeting with the god of Life and Death, love,” he said, apologetically. “They didn’t mean to ignore you.”
“You answered, Bird,” I retorted, frowning.
“Well, yes, but let’s say it was not exactly… correct, to do so,” he admitted, shrugging with a guilty smile. “Wolf and Drew are covering for me so lord Aita doesn’t notice I’m not entirely there. I left a decoy behind. Responsive enough, but still–”
“Nevermind that. I’m just glad you’re here,” I interrupted, burying my face in his chest. He stroked my back in a calming motion, as an experienced farmer would do with a nervous horse about to kick. “I don’t know what’s going on. This guy remembers everything. I did nothing other than the usual, what am I going to do now?”
Bird hesitated. Without saying a word, he went to the small couch and took a seat. I couldn’t help but smile. He looked like a titan squeezed in a tiny toy chair. He spread his arms, inviting me to sit on his lap. I obliged.
“If he knows, there’s no point in lying now, I think,” he remarked, thoughtfully. “Did he say anything at all about what happened? So we know where we stand exactly.”
“He thinks it was all magic and that I’m an angel,” I answered, wrinkling my nose.
“Well, he wasn’t wrong,” he declared, nuzzling me.
“Would you stop it? Now’s not the time to flirt,” I laughed, pushing him away. “The point is, he knows, in a way. I was hoping he’d assume it was a feverish dream or something like that, but the asshole jumped right to the supernatural.”
“Well, he seems to be an artist,” observed Bird, admiring the art on the walls. “They are usually no strangers to the general concept of our world.”
“So, you think we should tell him the truth?” I wondered, worried. It was a great risk to screw things up even more than they already were.
“I don’t think there’s any other choice,” Bird answered, gravely. “This might be the first time something like this happened. Let’s take him to Wolf and Drew, to begin with. We’ll see where to go from there. Don’t worry. I will stay close until you get him to your main office.”
I sighed in relief. That was one of the many things I loved about Bird. He was my anchor. Whenever I was lost, he’d always find the right words to calm me down and help me focus. He never said much, but it was always exactly what I needed to find myself again and keep going.
“Thanks, love,” I whispered, resting my head on his shoulder. “I was freaking out a bit.”
“I didn’t do anything, G.”
“You know you did.”
He smiled and engaged me in light conversation to distract me while we waited for Mathias to wake up from his slumber.
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