The ice cold wind enveloping Miguel's bare, frigid body did little to soothe the burning fire in his core, but it was better than it eating him alive. His thick eyelashes fluttered shut as his lithe frame flew through the air. Frost nipped at his exposed fingertips and toes. But this kind of suffering couldn't be pacified by a lonely night in the sky. No, this agony was rooted in his being.

The angel continued on anyway, letting the temperature freeze his thoughts and feelings. Past gray, engorged clouds in shapes of angry faces and reminding him of voices too loud, he flew until his tired wings began to ache. The familiar path he flew felt like a home he knew but almost too well. Memories of times like this only resulted in more stress over his helpless state, though that was stress he couldn't afford to handle. Tears dripped down his face, freezing and disappearing into the wind instantly. The poor angel was unable to manage even his own emotions. Even thinking about the other stressors pressing his life may just break his worn out spirit for good.

As his wings begged him to rest, Miguel continued to fly. He couldn't imagine resting as the fire in his throat advanced toward his heart, eventually filling up his whole chest. Freezing, yet also on fire. The contrast between the temperatures felt like an electrifying shock. It helped to quiet the growing negativity in his head, but he knew it wasn't enough to shut it up completely. Not forever. For that, he'd need God.

An ethereal being, a savior to his sorrow, a hand to reach out in the darkness and wake him from the virus poisoning his brain. That's what the fire and ice felt like; poison sickening him, yet enough at once could ignite his soul into feeling just the slightest bit of relief, if only for a few seconds. Miguel would need the Universe's greatest warriors to put a sword in his hand and toughen him up. To do something, anything, to save him from the burden inflaming his will to keep trying.

Wet rain drenched his naked shoulders, brown curls burrowing down into his head with the weight of them. Miguel's tears kept falling and falling, rainfall his only friend to wipe them from his bronze cheekbones. He felt like he was drowning, the flood of rain pushing him down no matter how hard he tried to fight it. It was an exhausting feat that tired his already spent physique as his wings fought and fought.

For a moment, Miguel stopped. With his soul matched his body, emotions overwhelming and yanking the reigns from his clogged mind. For a moment, Miguel was free falling. Weightless in the air as he felt his body and mind both slip away at once. For a moment, Miguel felt relief. That was before the fear set in.

The air and water was loud in his ears as he struggled to stay upright. Before he knew it, his figure was rotating again and again, unable to stay steady with his flailing arms trying to catch himself. Fire in his heart and ice in his veins faded away as all he could do was feel the imminent fear of falling to his death. Rain congested his field of sight, not that he had very much to see in the dark whilst pummeling to the ground, and the only reaction the angel could muster up was a scream.

Inches before reaching the muddy dirt, Miguel's wings puffed out wider than he'd ever seen them spread. It was like a parachute setting off as his graceful feathers caught him. Toes buried deep down into the dirt, nestling into the soggy earth while his wings fluttered shut.

It felt like a bomb had gone off in his brain; disorientated and parting from reality after the surge of emotions overtaking his thoughts. His wings throbbed, but not like they had tingled from the treacherous flight. It was a cavernous, profound burn that stung the root of his spine.

That was the last time Miguel had ever been able to fly.