Giotto's eyes fluttered open and he winced as the sunlight filtering through the window blinded him for a brief second. Eventually, Giotto noticed what kind of surrounding he was in; the room itself was small with the white paint on the walls peeling off in chunks. Furthermore, dust was splattered all over the floor and Giotto grimaced at the unappealing sight.

After darting his eyes around the room, it landed on a small and used crib in the center. Giotto sauntered forward and peeked in, and what greeted him was a small baby with a mop of black hair. The man also noticed a small lightning-shaped birthmark on the baby's temple, and truthfully, Giotto found it very unique.

"Are you my new assigned person?" Giotto asked and the baby responded by smacking his lips together, still sleeping soundly. Giotto smiled warmly at the sight; although he had been a guardian angel for so many years, he was always excited at the prospect of nurturing another life and guiding them along the way. However, this was his first time being assigned to a baby, so Giotto predict that he would probably encounter many problems in the future. But nonetheless, excitement still course through his body.

Reaching in, Giotto tapped the baby's nose gently despite knowing that the baby wouldn't be able to feel anything. But surprisingly, the baby opened his eyes in response and emerald eyes were locked with orange ones.

And so, a staring contest ensued and Giotto didn't break eye contact; the baby stared at his guardian angel with curiosity and eventually, he extended a hand, wanting to grab Giotto.

"You wouldn't be able to touch me, little one," Giotto voiced, crestfallen. Although he is an angel, Giotto's body practically behaves like a soul and just like how anything can pass through him, nothing can touch him too.

As if he can understand Giotto, the baby's lips curved into a frown and his hands rolled into small fists. The baby vocalized undecipherable words and Giotto tilted his head, "Hmm?" Giotto chuckled as the baby began to spit bubbles using his saliva.

But eventually, the baby was tired of his little saliva game and started to stare intensely at Giotto, more specifically at Giotto's golden pocket watch. Giotto looked down and unhooked his pocket watch, bringing it closer to the baby's line of vision.

"Like it? My family gave me this watch for my birthday," Giotto reminisced fondly and in his mind, he reenacted the memory.

Giotto, the leader and founder of the Vongola famiglia, was immersed with an insane amount of paperwork and he furiously scribbled his signature on the documents. All of the sudden, the door was busted open and his best friends all jumped in, exclaiming "Happy Birthday, Primo!" in perfect synchronization. Giotto dropped his pen and stared at his family, awe-struck.

"It's my birthday?" Giotto asked with confusion.

"Of course, you idiot! Who would forget their birthday?!" The pink-head, G, proclaimed.

"Hurry up and open your gift, Primo," the blackhead, Asari, urged.

"Alright," Giotto opened the present and a golden watch greeted him.

Although compared to his other properties, the watch doesn't worth a lot of money, to Giotto, this was his most treasured item and he always kept it by his side, wherever he go. The watch proves that no matter where his family are, their strong bonds wouldn't be severed over time.

As the baby was focusing on the watch, Giotto stand up and wondered, 'Where are his parents?' Turning to the baby, he muttered, "I'll be right back," and left the room. The moment he stepped out the room, Giotto was honestly astonished; the baby's room was in poor condition - not to mention that it was a cupboard under the stairs - but the rest of the house was in perfect condition with the floors polished and sparkly.

Immediately, Giotto knew that something was wrong. His ears perked up once movements from upstairs traveled toward him and Giotto flew up. He reached a nearby door and saw a family of three sitting closely together.

The mother was rocking a baby side to side within her arms while the father was ruffling the baby's hair. The father suddenly grumbled, "Petunia, you haven't feed him yet," refusing to utter that baby's name, which he deemed as nasty and disgusting.

"Oh hush," Petunia chided. "Don't talk about it with our Dudley here. Besides, that child should be grateful that I'm feeding him thrice a day!"

"Right," the father nodded.

Giotto couldn't bear to continue listening to their conversation; even without understanding the bigger picture, he had an inkling just what happened under this household. This was probably why God decided to assign him to this baby.

But with him here, Giotto swore to himself that he would protect this baby at all costs.

At nine months old, the baby named Harry was starting to walk with teetering steps. Although his guardians, namely Petunia and Vernon, doesn't bother to teach Harry, not to mention spend time with him more than necessary, Giotto decided to personally mentor the baby.

"You're doing good, Harry," Giotto and patted his laps. "Walk over here."

Harry puffed his cheeks and take a step forward slowly. Once he get the hang of it, he strolled forward at a faster pace, rushing to jump into Giotto's embrace.

"Careful, careful," Giotto reminded with a nervous smile and slowly slid forward so Harry can reach him faster.

"Ah-da, da!" Harry proclaimed, reaching for Giotto, who was practically a father for this child.

Giotto chuckled and as a result, Harry's smile widened, displaying his small teeth growing out of his gums. In his hurry, Harry accidentally slipped on the slippery surface and Giotto immediately sprang forward, trying to catch Harry, but to no avail.

Harry passed through Giotto's body and banged his forehead on the floor. Tears instantly welled up in Harry's eyes and the baby wailed loudly with fat tears streaming down his face.

Giotto, feeling extremely pained at the sight, blew at Harry's bruised forehead in hopes that it would soothe the pain. "Don't cry, Harry, don't cry." Harry only bawled louder and no matter how much Giotto tried to comfort him over and over again, Harry's cries only intensified.

Giotto bit his lips and buried his nails into his balled fists, hard enough to create red crescent marks; Giotto really detest the disadvantage of being a guardian angel. Not only does he not have a "real" body, but in situations like this, Giotto will be absolutely helpless and couldn't help anyone out. If only he had a solid body, then Harry wouldn't suffer like this.

"Harry, I'm sorry," Giotto's voice cracked slightly. "Please don't cry anymore." It was as if Harry's pain was transferring over to him, making him want to shed tears as well.

The baby sniffed, hiccuping occasionally. Blinking away the tears sitting on his eyelids, Harry extended a hand and touched where Giotto's cheeks were. "No da, no," Harry shake his head. "No k-k-kwy," Harry struggled to pronounce the word "cry."

In spite of Harry's mispronunciation, Giotto let out a smile. "Surely people would laugh at me for being cheered up by a baby when the opposite should happen," he mumbled, and one person popped up in his mind: G. "Thank you, Harry."

Harry giggled.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut with tears leaking out while waving his clenched fists in the air. The baby kept screaming and screaming until his throat went hoarse.

"Aw, Harry, don't cry, don't cry," Giotto comforted, patting Harry's belly. The blackhead ignored Giotto's words and kicked his feet in the air.

Giotto's lips morphed into a frown; this had never happened before and he was lost as to what caused this sudden behavior. In the past, whenever Harry cried, Giotto would stay by his side, and calm him down through words. But tonight, this method wasn't effective at all.

Moreover, tonight the Dudley family all went out for some party, leaving Harry alone without anyone taking care of him. And since other people besides Harry couldn't see Giotto, he couldn't ask anyone for help.

But suddenly, Giotto thought of an idea. With a soft yet mesmerizing voice, he began to sing: "Hane ga nai teunshi wa boku ni itta. Ie to kaeru chizu wo nakushita."

Harry was now whimpering and it seems like he enjoyed the song. Eventually, Harry started to be drowsy and he was struggling to open his eyes.

Giotto smiled and continued: "Hiriki na boku wa efude wo totte. Kowaita e no gu ni mizu wo sasu. Kono me ga hikari wo ushinattemo. Boku wa egaite miseru. Kono te ga chikara wo ushinatte demo. Boku wa egaite miseru..."

Before Giotto finished singing, Harry already fell asleep; his chest rising up and down at an even pace. "Sleep tight, little one."

At two years old, Harry can understand many words and every day, Giotto would help him review his vocabulary. Although Harry can only use Dudley's old books, he was content to have something to read despite the battered state of the books.

"What colors is this?" Giotto questioned, pointing toward an apple.

"Wed!" Harry exclaimed, still having trouble rolling the r's.

"Very good," Giotto praised, beaming a smile. "What about this?" He pointed toward a black car.

"..." Harry cocked his head, and after few minutes had passed by, he was unable to strive for an answer.

"It's black, Harry, just like my cape," Giotto reminded and waved his cape hanging off his shoulders around.

"Back, back!" The baby nodded and flipped the page, unfolding the dog-ear on the corner. "Dis," Harry circled his finger around an orange, exclaiming, "Owange!"

The guardian angel clapped, "You're so smart!"

Once Harry looked up, he pointed toward Giotto's bright hair, "Owange!"

"Yes, my hair is orange."

Jerking a thumb toward his chest, Harry shouted, "Me like owange!"

"Wow, we share the same favorite color."

"Hehe," and Harry spread his pudgy cheeks.

At this moment, Petunia happened to walk pass by the cupboard and noticed Harry seemingly babbling to himself. She furrowed her eyebrows and shake her head; it seems that her nephew was just as crazy as her deceased sister Lily.

She closed the door, not noticing that orange eyes flicked toward her, and went to tend her son.

And in Giotto's eyes, an orange spark lit up as if it was on fire. And as if it was on the same page as the owner, a orange flame was also lit up in the watch.

I really love Giotto, so I decided to write a story starring him. Also, the song is Drawing Days (KHR's first op - ah, how nostalgic). Hope you enjoy it and please drop a review!