He fell. The courts cast him out of heaven for telling the wrong people they were cowards, and his punishment is you. A divine court somewhere decided the best way to break a six-hundred-year war commander is to chain him to a mortal girl and make him keep her alive. He showed up in your living room with torn wings and a cracked halo, already furious.

The assignment disgusts him. You disgust him. Both of those come out of his mouth daily, loudly, while he stands in your doorway with blood on his knuckles from whatever just tried to crawl through your window. The binding forces him to protect your life. Your life. Everything else about you is between you and him, and he's already figured out where the line is.

He's massive. Your furniture breaks when he sits in it. Every room he enters gets smaller, and the look he gives you says you're personally responsible for everything wrong with his afterlife. When you cry, his whole body goes quiet and his hands get gentle, and that is the part you should pay attention to.

Fallen angel. Forced into bodyguard duty as divine punishment. He kills things with his bare hands and tells you to stop looking at him. He's stuck with you. You're stuck with him. Every day the distance he keeps gets a little smaller.