This Is An Angel?! - 1. Chapter 1

Printouts. Every single time, I somehow managed to send the printouts to the top floor office even though we hadn’t used it for almost a year. The room was rather barren, with only a few tables and chairs pushed against one wall and a far too large printer that was sat in the middle of the room.

They’d even taken down the blinds, the cold night sky clearly visible since I hadn’t bothered to turn on the headache-inducing overhead fluorescents.

The streetlights were the only thing that gave off any light, other than the glowing buttons of the printer.

I stood in almost total silence, the only sounds being the whir and clicks of the printer as each new page fell onto the growing pile.

At least it gave me a few minutes of peace and quiet from the constant droning chatter of my cramped office.

That wasn’t to say that my shared office contained much of anything. It was more the quality of its occupants than the quantity that made its air so stifling.

I’d happily stand here all day if it meant I didn’t have to go back and sit within any kind of proximity to my co-workers.

The printer let out a loud thunk, the electronic whining slowly lost volume. Signalling it had —or at least should have— finished printing everything.

Picking up the warm stack I pressed it to my nose, enjoying the pleasant clean scent of new ink. I closed my eyes for a brief second, knowing I now had no choice but to head back. I felt more comfortable on this floor than I currently did on my new one just a mere two floors below.

If I took too long one of them would no doubt come for me. Melody had already admonished me for sending the printouts to the wrong room in the first place.

I walked out of the room and past the fake plastic plants, heading towards the elevator at the very end of the corridor. I hated those so-called plants; it made no sense to me why you would have them instead of the real thing, not to mention the dust they had been gathering for years. If I was a plant I’d be insulted.

I was a few feet away from elevator when the doors slid open, revealing the one thing that resided on this floor that could make me even more uncomfortable than the office I was heading to.

Logan stepped out, a paper cup from the local cafe held in one hand. His dark hair, like always, was far too shiny from the ridiculous amount of product that coated it. It looked more like he’d bathed it in oil rather than using the expensive sandalwood-scented gel I knew he favoured.

I’d enjoyed that smell when I’d first met him, such a rich and earthy-sweet scent. But it hadn’t taken long before I dreaded getting even a whiff of it.

His pale blue eyes caught on me immediately and I quickly looked away. I glued my eyes to the glittering black linoleum and continued walking forward, hoping it was enough to get him to leave me alone.

As we passed by each other his elbow jerked out, knocking into my arm and causing the stack of papers I was holding to cascade out of my hand.

Papers I knew I had failed to number. I let the last few sheets drop, seeing no point in holding onto them.

“Oh, sorry man. Didn’t see you there. You’re just ever so small,” he said in an exaggerated friendly voice.

I didn’t reply, just looked down at the papers and slowly shook my head.

Not everyone can be as lanky as you.

I wished to say it but didn’t want to spurn him further. I knew it would do no good and would only exacerbate his dislike for me. Not that I’d ever given him a reason to torment me in the first place.

I finally looked at Logan when he made no move to leave. A smirk came to his boyish face, his expression completely unperturbed.

He raised the paper coffee cup that he was now holding between both hands. I was never allowed off-site for food and had to stick with the awful cheap coffee granules from the building’s cafeteria, I used to bring in my own but had been told that it was no longer allowed.

No, reason. I was just told not to.

A rule that apparently didn’t apply to everyone.

“Sorry Gills, I’d help you pick them up but as you can see, my hands are full,” he said, wiggling the coffee back and forth, the cup looking tiny in his overly large hands.

He gave a nod like we had both come to some understanding, before he carried on back down the corridor to his office.

I hated the way he said my name, making a sound in the back of his throat like he’d trapped a bubble there, and ending it in an exaggerated lispy ‘s’. I wanted to shout after him, that it was ‘Ghil’ not ‘Gills.’

But it was likely he already knew he was saying it wrong, and he only said it that way to irritate me. If I spoke up, I would just be verbally confirming it bothered me.

The fallen papers were laid in a messy arrangement. Perhaps I should just leave them, just step over them and go home. But that would mean picking them up tomorrow ­—likely covered in footprints— or having to print new ones. Which I’d be fine with if it wasn’t for my boss taking any excuse to reprimand me.

I crouched and picked them up, slotting the sheets together without much care. The pile became a shapeless mess of multiple corners sticking out at odd angles, with half the pages upside down and back to front.

Guess I was going to be late home. Again.

It looked like Logan was working overtime. I only needed to reorder the pages, so he should be easily avoided as it shouldn’t take me too long. His increasingly disturbing proficiency at managing to bump into me —both figuratively and physically— whenever there was no one else around was becoming increasingly creepy. Inside the elevator I clicked the button for my floor, seeing a smear of gel on the top floor button.

Seriously? What the hell was wrong with that guy?

I used my sleeve to wipe the gunk away, disgust making my skin prickle.

Why did I even bother?

I’d yet to meet someone at this company that didn’t worship the holy dick of Logan. Even the once sweet old lady who did the cleaning had taken on my co-worker’s dislike for me. When I made it to the office, I was glad to see almost everyone had already left.

Sadly, that almost, didn’t include the queen bee Melody herself. Her gaze went straight to my pile of muddled papers before she rolled her eyes in such a tremendously exaggerated manner, I almost expected her overly thick false lashes to fly off.

She walked past, flicking her dark hair over her shoulder as she went. Her hips swayed in a way that would get any straight man looking, but I was sure that for me, it was meant to be some kind of insult.

No doubt she’d be voicing her opinion on me not even being able to do so much as make a neat pile of papers to the rest of the office tomorrow.

It was almost funny, I did just as much work if not more, yet I still got niggled at for every little thing. I scraped my nails on the back of the paper sheets.

Why did they have to be like this?

Every single one of them.

I hadn’t wanted to fuck the popular guy so that meant I was no better than dirt?

I doubted most of them even liked him that much, he was loud and obnoxious, the veritable office clown. While they acted like the kids at the party playing pin the tail on the donkey, and stupidly I’d let myself become the ass.

I laughed, though I felt no humour at the thought. Somehow, I always found myself in this situation. I could talk myself up for hours but the moment it came to actually speaking up for myself all that came out was mouse squeaks.

But regardless of my own inadequacies, they were adults, and I couldn’t understand how they hadn’t grown up already. Other than his good looks I couldn’t see what there was to like about Logan. It was pathetic.

I found myself resenting their mindless clique far more than I did the bullying itself. I thought people were supposed to leave such attitudes behind in high school.

It didn’t take too long to sort the pages. Most having thankfully stayed in order. I had somehow neglected to print three of them out. Perhaps, it was lucky I had dropped them after all, as I probably would have forgotten to check.

I placed the pile in my desk drawer and wrote a small sticky note, placing it on my monitor to remind myself to print the rest out during break tomorrow.

Stepping outside, it was much darker than I had expected. Some of the streetlamps must have turned off. They were temperamental and seemed to decide for themselves which nights they would and wouldn’t light up. I didn’t mind, it wasn’t a busy area, and I enjoyed the darkness after being in a bright office all day.

Upon reaching my car, I let out a relieved sigh at finally being out of that stuffy environment. I grabbed the door handle but didn’t open it immediately. Just closed my eyes and tilted my head back, breathing in the cold air.

I adored the scent of the night, the way the cold air felt in my lungs, it was much cleaner smelling than it was through the day, the chill strangely refreshing.

When I opened my eyes, I was looking up at a full moon, the bright disk shining a pale blue instead of silver. Almost the same shade as a clear sky on a sunny morning. It didn’t shock me; I was too tired for that.

Besides, I was a rational guy and knew there had to be some boring explanation for it. I’d seen a red moon before —though I’d call it more swamp water orange— but never blue.

I had zero knowledge about such things, it probably signified some truly awful weather tomorrow or something like that. I’d make sure to bring an extra thick jacket to work tomorrow just in case.

I was past caring what my colleagues thought of me. If I kept telling myself that maybe I could make it a reality. If it was raging sun and I was bundled up for snow ─ so be it. I wouldn’t let myself care. My desk was the coldest spot in the room anyway.

I drove home to my small ground-floor apartment. It was a lonely life, my only companion being a great ginger fluff ball of a cat. I struggled to get close to people due to my shyness. Even when I did manage to painfully pull myself past the anxiety, I could never quite connect with people. And after a while, even the people who seemed to enjoy being around me eventually became tired of me. It had to be me.

I had to be doing something that sent them running but I couldn’t for the life in me work out what it was. I’d been accused of being clingy to then accused of being too distant. It was like I had no middle ground and was always juggling the two extremes. I just always felt like something was off. Like there was a great wall of glass that was always separating me from other people.

I couldn’t connect. Could never really get my feelings across and eventually grew cold to theirs.

Getting to know someone just to have them leave was far worse than never getting to know them at all, so I just stopped.

I hated the fact that my loneliness was very much due to my own inadequacies. I was causing my own suffering, and there was nothing I could do about it. Nothing but to learn to stop caring.