Archive of Our Own ^beta

1

The squeaking of tires slithering on asphalt was debilitatingly loud. It attracted the attention of numerous people on this busy crossroad, one of thousands in this endless city. The onlookers spared the situation only a glance, murmured to themselves, how reckless of that young man , and carried on with their lives.

Though Sunwoo had noticed the black car coming towards him, drifting too fast around the corner without watching out for pedestrians, he had underestimated the layer of sleek ice on the ground beneath him. It had rained yesterday, and the wet ground had frozen overnight. There had been an announcement on the radio this morning, but Sunwoo didn’t own a radio.

He shied back and his foot slipped, the sleek sole of his sneakers offering not nearly enough resistance against the ice, and already awaited the hard and painful impact with the curbstone when hands pulled him away, reaching for his arms, grabbing at the nape of his coat, and tugging him onto the sidewalk. 

Sunwoo’s head whipped to the side. His eyes instinctively searched for the person behind him, though the only details that struck him in that sliver of the moment were slender, thin rings adorning the long fingers curled around his arm, and raven-black hair falling into the stranger’s face, the strands swaying somewhat unnaturally smooth. Then, though, the car flashed past him, and Sunwoo looked back at the road, watching with wide eyes how the fast tires ran over where his legs would have been if he hadn’t been pulled backwards.

“ Be careful, boy ,” someone shouted. 

A driver on the road honked.

Sunwoo blinked, and let out a gasped breath. His headphones, cheap black ones, with the cable all tangled, had been ripped out of his ears with the fall, and dangled down his neck – they were the reason he had gotten into the situation in the first place, the music had been way too loud for him to hear the warning shouts as the car had headed towards the crosswalk with no sign of slowing down.

The car was long gone and traffic continued as usual by the time Sunwoo turned around with a muttered, abashed “thank you” directed at the person that essentially had just saved his life on his lips. He was breathing heavily as his body was recovering from the shock, labored and rushed, though a surprised frown deepened between his eyebrows as he noticed that the stranger behind him had already turned his back towards him, not sparing him another glance.

He already wanted to swallow down the expression of gratitude when he noticed something. A thread of his red sweater, of which the sleeves were longer than his winter coat, had gotten caught on one of the other’s rings. Just in that moment, as the stranger took another step away from him, Sunwoo felt the string tug at his sleeve.

He sucked in a sharp breath. It was almost as if his vision tunneled, and for a brief moment, the only thing he registered was the red string tying him to the stranger’s hand. 

A red string.

Ever since he was able to remember, Sunwoo had believed in fate. He believed in the possibility, no, the existence of destined love, and he had been waiting for so long. For a ray of sunshine in that gray life of his, someone destined to fall for him.

"Wait… wait a minute," he stuttered, the same way his heart stuttered looking at the string connecting them. He reached out with his free hand, which had gotten all scratched up at the impact with the pavement, to catch the hand that the string connected him to.

Before he could reach far enough, the stranger turned around.

Incredulousness showed on his features – a confusion that was mirrored on Sunwoo's own face, as for a second, just a fracture of a moment, he thought that, even though that couldn't have possibly been true, he had seen the outline of a large set of wings around the tall stranger.

Black strands, somehow not even the slightest bit windblown or messy despite the breeze wafting through the city’s vast streets, framed a handsome face – no, a perfect face.

Perfect was the only word that Sunwoo deemed even halfway acceptable to use to describe the sharp features that built a face akin to those drawn by genius artists, the kind that only lived every few decades if not centuries, that went down in history for being able to create such unfathomable beauty.

Sunwoo’s lungs had barely recovered from the near-accident, and already their breath had been taken once more. He struggled to breathe, to think, to speak, and dully wondered how it could possibly be that the mere sight of someone had such an impact on him – that couldn’t be, right? That wasn’t normal…

Small pieces of gravel dug through his pants into his skin as he drew himself up to kneel on the ground.

He looked into the stranger’s eyes, and he noticed that the stranger knew him. He didn’t know what it was, a shadow flying over the handsome face, a brief flicker in those strangely clear, observant eyes, but it struck Sunwoo like lightning – whoever that was that stood in front of him, Sunwoo was not a stranger to him.

He opened his lips to speak, to thank him, to ask who he was, but the other was faster. Quiet were his words as they left his lips, as if he hadn't spoken in a while. 

"You… you can see me?" he asked. 

His voice was deep and melodious, though he sounded horrified his words had kept a thoughtful and calm streak, but Sunwoo was way too puzzled by the content of his words to focus on his voice.

He didn’t know what to reply, lips parting again and again to search for the right answer, to break through that wall of confusion, through that daze that had fallen over his thoughts.

Before he managed to get even one word out, his strange savior tugged the thread of Sunwoo’s sweater off his ring, and left, swiftly though not rushed, with an eerie smoothness to his movements and to the way he blended into the passing crowd so easily.

Sunwoo immediately stumbled to his feet, even disregarding his phone lying on the ground which had slipped out of his pocket as he craned his head – to no avail.

The stranger was gone already, somehow he had just disappeared in the mass of anonymous faces, and Sunwoo was left alone, eyes restless as they kept searching for quite a while.

Sunwoo’s life was uneventful and boring enough that even a rather ordinary event could take over his mind for days. It wasn’t healthy, Sunwoo was aware, but he had stopped caring a long time ago – he would take anything, as unhealthy of a habit as it was, over the void that took over otherwise.

He could have expected from the beginning that the strange encounter would consume him fully. Everything about it, the red string and the implications that came with it, the other’s strange behavior and his inexplicable beauty. His confusing words haunted Sunwoo’s dreams as much as the image of the hazy silhouette of wings did, dreams of which he awoke with a pressure on his chest and a million whispers in the back of his mind, each one with a different answer to his questions. 

2

While the whispers in his mind stayed confusing, unintelligible to the point it was unbearable – Sunwoo had long given up on getting rid of them, resorting to sleep and music as means to overshadow the constant noise – he would find the answer another way quite soon.

Sunwoo had to face what he hated so much about this city even in the big coffee shop, some large corportation’s franchise branch, near the place he lived. 

Anonymity. 

He could have come in every day and still nobody would recognize him. Loneliness ate him up inside wherever he went, it clung to him, never letting go, only strengthening as he walked through these doors. Every time he was immediately surrounded by the smell of coffee mixing with busy chatter, people on the phone, cliques of friends grouped around tables, first dates, it made him feel so alone and yet he came again and again, waiting for something to change.

Sunwoo found himself heading up the stairs towards the second floor of the café when it happened. He hadn’t noticed the stressed waitress carrying a tray laden with empty cups coming down, towards him, he was too busy carrying his own cup of hot chocolate without spilling it.

He glanced up just before a crash, and with that crash a disaster, would have happened. His reaction was quick enough that he evaded the tray and the waitress could continue, barely even aware of the just about avoided crisis, but just in that moment, Sunwoo’s foot slipped off the stair step he stood on.

His heart stuttered as he lost balance, but before he could even begin to waver and try to regain balance, a hand on his waist gently nudged him back onto his feet.

Sunwoo looked once more into the clear eyes of his strange savior, who once again seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

His eyes were unlike any that Sunwoo had ever seen before. They fit all those metaphorical descriptions that he found in books, but somehow, those descriptions were true . His eyes were the ocean, his eyes were a labyrinth, his eyes were clear as the sky yet dark as coal, bottomless, pulling him in. 

In the outer corner of Sunwoo’s eye, something flickered. Something strangely bright, emitting a warm light, slowly taking shape. While he was still lost in the stranger’s eyes, Sunwoo thought, for the second time, that he saw wings. Like a broken hologram, not quite in this world, flickering in and out of existence.

That observation was enough to break the spell that his eyes had put on Sunwoo, yet immediately as his gaze flickered over the stranger’s shoulder – he was quite a bit taller than him, broader as well – the appearance had vanished. Out of all those guessing whispers in his mind, one grew louder and louder – but it couldn’t be…

“You again!” Sunwoo said then, this time his words were quicker than his mind, “I found you again, I didn’t think I would actually—”

Before he could walk away from him again, Sunwoo reached out to curl the fingers of his free hand around the stranger’s arm. He didn’t resist, when he could have easily shaken off Sunwoo’s hand. 

Instead, he slowly looked back at him. Sunwoo wasn’t good at reading faces, but he believed to see helplessness on the other’s sculpture-like features.

“Sunwoo…” he muttered, “let go of me, please.”

Sunwoo followed his calm order, dropping his hand wordlessly, before even registering what he had said – the moment he realized, though, his eyes widened, his lips parted.

“H-how do you know my name?” he asked. “How do you know me?” Then, with his words whispered as if he was afraid of the answer, he added, “who are you?”

He added one more sentence, this one with an almost pleading note to it, “don’t disappear again before you tell me who you are”.

The black-haired, handsome stranger wavered, visibly struggling to decide on what to do. 

Sunwoo decided to take a risk.

What was the worst that could happen, after all?

“Are you an angel?”

A shadow crept over the other’s face. “Why do you think that?”

“You saved my life last time, you protected me just now, you know me although I’ve never seen you before, you even know my name – and I th… I think I can see your wings. Am I right?”

Sunwoo had watched a lot of movies – judging by those, he expected the other to deny his claim, to dismiss his words, perhaps to even get annoyed, push him away and walk away.

He didn’t expect to receive a smile. Small and faint, but clearly there.

“How foolish of me,” he replied muttering, with the hint of a chuckle in his voice, “of course you’d put two and two together. You’re so smart, after all.”

“S-so I’m right ?” Sunwoo stammered.

“Mh. You are.” Sunwoo felt a shiver run along his spine as he felt the palm of a large hand on his waist once more, gently nudging towards the nearest empty seat. “We can sit down while I explain it all to you. Your chocolate will get cold.”

It was as if he had changed into a totally different person at once, the moment he had realized that Sunwoo knew, or at least thought he knew, what he was. That defensive, aloof shell crumbled away and uncovered a gentleness in his every movement, a mellowness to his words, and inarguably affection in his eyes.

Without trying or wanting to, he roped Sunwoo in.

Sunwoo hadn’t grown up around religion, he was neither spiritual or particularly naive, and yet he accepted the existence of angels in a heartbeat. Was it because he believed every word that left his mouth? Because the idea of someone watching over him comforted him as much as the concept of fated love did? Because it meant that he wasn’t alone?

“I’m your guardian angel,” he told him. “I watch over you, make sure you’re safe, try to keep you out of danger or at least get you away from it.”

“Have you always been there?”

“No. I was only recently assigned to you. Usually, a guardian angel stays with their assigned person for their entire life. Then, after their human's death, they get assigned a new one, and guard them from their birth on. Your case was out of the ordinary.”

“Why? What happened to my former guardian angel?”

“I don’t know. They didn’t tell me. It seems like you’re an exception in general.”

“Because I can see you?”

“Mh."

Sunwoo's heart tumbled, then leapt higher.

"You’re not supposed to, you know... Nobody sees me here, in this world, humans just can’t see angels, that is just how it is – can you imagine what a mess that would be?”

“You’re invisible?”

“No, not quite… it’s more like they overlook me. I am there, but I don’t catch their eyes. I’m one of many passing strangers, not worthy of their attention. I come and go unnoticed. You are the only human that has ever seen me.” 

The angel gave him a smile. He looked grateful.

Sunwoo stared at him with wide eyes. There was so much of him to take in, so much to process, but something about the sight of him was so puzzling, so… much , that Sunwoo wasn’t sure if he’d be able to figure him out even if he had all eternity to look at him.

To think that nobody else had the privilege of looking at him, that he was the only one who knew of him… he felt both pity for the others and a strange, electrifying sense of pride for himself.

“But… if everyone has a guardian angel… people still get hurt, people still die…”

“Well… we don’t save you. We guard you, we guide you. We’re that prick of conscience, that voice telling you to not do it, that tug at your sleeve, that breeze of wind, that stranger in the crowd that walks just slow enough so you don’t cross the sidewalk and get hit by a bike you didn’t see. Guardian angels don’t sacrifice themselves for the person they are watching over.”

Sunwoo remained breathless for a few seconds, although it could have been minutes judging by the way the angel’s presence seemed to warp time around them. He registered that his heart was beating fast, hard and almost painful against his chest, as if it wanted to break free. It was a sweet kind of pain, the one he’d gladly endure.

He had finished his hot chocolate by the time he spoke up again, quietly, “can I know your name? Do angels even have one?”

“Juyeon.”

After that day, if it hadn’t already happened at their very first meeting, the deal was done. His fate was sealed.

It wasn’t his fault. To meet an angel was something that was supposed to be impossible for a regular human, it was too overwhelming, the mere sight of one. To experience an angel’s affection…

It wasn’t Sunwoo’s fault that he fell for Juyeon, deeper than he ever had and forever would, and it was out of his control as much as it was out of Juyeon’s. 

Guardian angels weren’t omniscient. They weren’t almighty. They weren’t even immortal. Though bound to a different set of rules, tied to a different realm, they experienced emotions that weren’t that different from human feelings. Juyeon didn’t know what was happening to him every time Sunwoo's eyes fell on him, and neither did he know why it happened.

Neither of them had planned for this to happen, that bond that formed between them, started by a seemingly inconsequential thread connecting them, and neither of them could have escaped even if they had wanted to – which they didn’t.

3

The idea occurred to Sunwoo almost by accident. He was walking home, and completely coincidentally, his eyes fell onto the railing of the bridge that he was crossing. 

Beyond that railing, unruly waves clashed against the shores of the large river crossing through the city. The sound could be heard all the way up to where Sunwoo stood, suddenly motionless, hands hanging to his sides as he stared at the water’s continuous movements.

How cold did that water down there have to be… If he were to jump, if he were to fall, would he freeze to death before he could drown?

If he were to jump…

Then, it struck him like lightning, and after a quick glance around – he was alone – he hurried over to the railing, placed his already cold hands onto the freezing metal and pushed himself up, bringing a leg up to climb onto the handrail.

A small overhang jutted out of the bridge’s bottom, to prevent accidents, to keep belongings from tumbling down into the water, though it was not broad enough to hinder a person from jumping if they really wanted to.

If he slipped, and tumbled past the small ledge, he would fall.

Sunwoo had brought himself into danger, undeniable danger, and with a thumping heart and cold hands slightly outstretched to keep his balance, he waited. Wind tugged at his clothes, the sound of the rushing waves seemed to lure him in like the singing voice of a siren, and out of nowhere, the paralyzingly terrifying thought occurred to him that nobody would miss him if he jumped.

Fear wrapped itself around his heart, he felt terribly unsteady on his legs, and the adrenaline rush of the risky situation mixed with the urge to burst into tears.

Then, he heard the meow of a cat, and that thought disappeared as soon as it had come up. Sunwoo looked to the side.

A white cat sat on the railing to his left, only a few meters parting his feet and the small animal. It didn’t seem like a stray, with its fur pristine white and no scars or signs of a tough life on the street marking the elegant animal.

It sat there, looked at him with dark eyes, and meowed again.

Sunwoo's heart, which had sped up to an unhealthy pace standing up here, stumbled.

“J-juyeon?”

Sunwoo felt blush seeping into his cheeks just a moment later as biting embarrassment sunk in. He pressed his lip together, eyes slowly wandering from the cat to the water deep below him.

“Why do you think I would show up as a cat?”

Sunwoo's head whipped to the other side, and his heart couldn't help but skip a beat as he saw Juyeon stand on the sidewalk, leaning against one of the massive concrete posts that were part of the bridge.

He wore that same coat again that he has worn the last two times, gray and reaching down to his knees. . Just like the first times, he seemed unaffected by his surroundings, by the cold and the wind.

“You really came—” Sunwoo breathed, a white cloud of air escaping his lips, disappearing in the cold around him. "I… I thought it didn't work if I did it on purpose, but I wanted to see you again so badly…"

“Get down there,” Juyeon replied. "Please, Sunwoo." 

His name sounded holy leaving the angel's lips, like scripture, worshiped.

Sunwoo wavered. “I-if I do, will you disappear?”

“No. I have some time before I have to go back. I promise. I will stay as long as I possibly can."

Sunwoo slowly bent his knees, lowering himself enough to reach for the railing. The metal was so cold it bit into his skin, leaving it reddened and without feeling.

Juyeon stepped closer and grabbed Sunwoo's upper arm for support as he hopped back onto solid ground. He noticed that the angel was avoiding direct skin contact, touching him only where the fabric of his clothes separated them. Sunwoo wondered why, what would happen if he touched him – oh, how badly he wanted to touch his skin, the brush of a fingertip would be enough.

As he regained stability, Sunwoo noticed that the cat sitting on the railing had disappeared – though there hadn't been nearly enough time for it to disappear from the bridge entirely.

"The kitten, that was you—" he gasped, turning fully towards him. Juyeon still held onto his arm, slowly lowering his hand as Sunwoo glanced at it.

In response to Sunwoo's words, Juyeon chuckled, almost inaudibly.

Sunwoo looked at him, and then, an almost teasing tone of wariness found itself in his next words. "Is this even your true form? What if you are really nothing but eyes and wings, a terrifying creature, and are just deceiving me?”

“This is the form I appear in most of the time. The one most resembling human.”

“What is your true form?”

Juyeon thought for a moment. “Light.”

“Can you turn into anything?”

“I can be anything you want me to be. Almost.”

“Almost?” Sunwoo asked, not able to hold back his curiosity. “What can you not be?”

An almost wistful expression fell over Juyeon’s face. “Human."

"I like you this way," Sunwoo said, "I like you in every form." He meant it, every syllable – he had spoken too lowly even, like didn't sufficiently convey what he felt. 

Juyeon was silent, seeming stunned. 

Sunwoo would have given everything to know what Juyeon was thinking. He didn't dare to ask him what was on his mind, what he felt when he looked at him, if he was as awestruck as he was.

Could Juyeon read his mind? Were angels capable of that?

"Sunwoo."

"Y-yes?"

"I want to show you something. Hold onto my arm. It’ll feel like teleporting. Don't be afraid."

He brought him onto the roof of a building. It was a hotel complex, rising high into the sky. The flat rooftop didn't have a railing – it wasn't used as an accessible space, and nobody ever came up here – but Sunwoo felt safe next to Juyeon. He would have never brought him here if he couldn't guarantee his safety.

They sat down on the ground, and Sunwoo pulled his legs up to his body. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Juyeon said.

It was dusk. The sun was setting slowly, painting the vast sky above the city in a beautiful orange and yellow. The sight was breathtaking, stunning, and Sunwoo wondered if Juyeon had brought him here because he knew exactly that he hadn't seen anything but the gray concrete city for a while, if he had wanted to show him that there was beauty about this place which Sunwoo felt stuck in so often. 

At the first shiver running through his body – the air was even colder up here – Juyeon stripped off his jacket and gave it to him. Sunwoo's eyes were glued to every movement of his. He wore a rather thin turtleneck sweater beneath the coat – too cold for this weather, but Sunwoo assumed that angels didn't feel the cold. 

Beneath the thin fabric, Sunwoo caught sight of the muscles of his arm moving as he reached out to wrap the warming coat over Sunwoo's shoulders. He noticed the delicate curve of his back, his sculptured shoulder blades, he took in the shape of his neck and the way his hair fell around his ears, hanging slightly into his hauntingly stunning face.

He noticed that Juyeon was looking back at him, and blushed. It was almost overwhelming, the realization that the angel sitting next to him was looking at him . Nobody else, him , and his eyes were not just wandering over him without any second thoughts, no, they lingered, they observed and they took in.

Sunwoo was so entranced by his eyes still that the sudden touch against the back of his hand caught him off guard, almost made him flinch. He looked down, watching wordlessly as Juyeon slowly let his fingertips glide over the back of his wrist, before he then lifted his hand off the ground and took it into his. 

A shiver ran down Sunwoo’s spine. Juyeon’s hands were incredibly soft, so gentle although they were so large and so strong and could have easily been rough, so careful that Sunwoo wanted to tell him that he could break him for all he cared. 

It was the first time that he had touched him, skin against skin, Sunwoo realized. What could Juyeon possibly find worth noting about his hand to gaze at it like this, what could be interesting enough to take such a long look at it, as if he was memorizing every minor detail. It was just a hand…

With Juyeon’s thumb against the palm of his hand and his fingers lightly curled around the back of it, Sunwoo stretched out his fingers slightly, moving against the touch, adding tension, to then interlock their fingers. Juyeon's fingers were long, unblemished, his skin smooth, and Sunwoo felt his fingers tighten around him.

Warmth spread, quiet comfort, the buds of spring breaking through a thicket of ice and snow.

For the sliver of a moment, looking at their intertwined hands, Sunwoo caught a glimpse of Eden.

With his focus on their fingers, Sunwoo once more registered the presence of Juyeon’s wings. It seemed as if they had the space to spread out more up here, where nobody else was around, as they seemed even bigger than they had at their first meeting and at the coffee shop.

"Your wings," Sunwoo whispered into the silence – the city's noise was too far down to bother them up here, and neither of them had spoken in a while. "Why can't I see them properly?"

Juyeon’s eyes flickered over his shoulder.

“They’re of no use to me in this world, I can’t use them to fly here, maybe that is why?”

“What a shame,” Sunwoo muttered. “I would have wanted to…” He fell silent briefly, suddenly unsure if he should continue. “—t-touch them,” he stuttered eventually. “Just once.”

To card his fingers through the pristine feathers… trace their shape all the way up to where they joined with his back... 

A dizzying feeling washed over Sunwoo, just at the idea, the mere concept of Juyeon’s exposed back, hunched over, and the giant pair of wings spreading out above him. He was overcome with want, blind and reckless want , a desire so strong it took his breath away.

In a way it was torture, to sit here and have Juyeon's hand holding his but nothing more, when he craved for so much more.

Juyeon didn't shy away as Sunwoo leant in and let his body fall against his side, forehead sinking against his shoulder, his free hand seeking for something to hold onto, finding Juyeon’s arm.

Neither of them said a word. They didn’t have to. At first, Juyeon didn’t even move, he seemed almost immobilized at Sunwoo’s sudden proximity, at the human clinging to him, his breath calm but slightly labored. Then he moved his free hand to the back of Sunwoo’s head. He carded his fingers through his hair, let his palm rest against his nape to keep him close. Sunwoo couldn’t see the faint smile that had appeared on the angel’s face.

“I don’t have much longer here for now,” Juyeon said eventually. “I will bring you home before that.”

“A-already?” Sunwoo protested weakly, sitting up straight, eyes widening. He was a little dizzy. “C-can’t you stay for longer? Can’t you stay with me?”

Throughout the night , he had almost added. The nights were the worst, but Juyeon probably knew. Juyeon seemed to know so much about him. 

He knew how lonely he was. He knew how strongly he disliked every aspect about his dull life yet didn’t even know where to begin to change it. Juyeon knew that Sunwoo was lost, that he was drowning, and what if that had been the reason for why he had stretched out his hand and appeared in front of Sunwoo’s eyes, even if he wasn’t aware of it? To save him?

“I’m sorry.” Regret filled the angel’s words, so genuine that it made Sunwoo’s heart ache even more. It was so heavy by now, such a burden, the thought of being left with nobody but himself again, the thought that Juyeon wanted to help but couldn’t. “I wish I could stay.” 

He looked at Sunwoo, lips parted as if he wanted to say more, as if unspoken words burned in his throat but he didn’t dare to speak them out loud.

“When will I see you again?” Sunwoo asked. 

Juyeon hesitated. He couldn’t give him an answer, and right before he left, Sunwoo thought to have seen a tear glisten in the corner of his eye.

Sunwoo was left alone with the thought that he had made an angel cry, and it was surprising that it didn’t drive him insane.

4

So much time passed after their encounter on the bridge. Too much time. Sunwoo felt helpless, starving, but he lived on. Every passing day was the same, again and again, and even the unexpected didn’t comfort him. 

He had to see Juyeon again, or the longing would eat him up – he didn’t know what it was about the angel that made him feel so seen, so warm and safe and not alone , but he craved to be by his side again more than he had ever wanted anything in life.

Thinking about him made his breath stutter, his cheeks redden, his mind stray. His voice and eyes and hands, his attention and affection.

Technically, Sunwoo knew what to do, how to summon him.

But Sunwoo was a coward.

Danger was what brought Juyeon to him, yet Sunwoo’s feet would refuse to step even close to any ledge, his fingers would shake when confronted with the hilt of a sharp knife, his whole body protested against the mere thought. He was a coward, and he despised himself for it, as his weak heart was the only thing keeping him from catching even just a glimpse of his angel.

Sleeplessness carried him through the streets late at night, searching, always restless, as the alternative would be dreams of light and feathers and warmth and him waking up all alone, and somehow, Sunwoo ended up on the steps leading up to a church.

It was one of the old ones, massive, one of few scattered in the city. It looked out of place, as if it didn't belong here and had somehow clipped into this reality. During the day, there was a food bank at the side of the building, and both tourists and believers walked in and out. Now, in the middle of the night, the church was completely empty. 

The brick walls menacingly towered above him as Sunwoo took a hesitating step towards the heavy doors.

Was it okay for him to come here? It didn’t feel right, not with those thoughts haunting him, consuming him. He shouldn’t come here and taint this holy place. Something was pulling him in, though, and with his head kept low, Sunwoo pushed open the door and slipped into the cold, dark place, letting it swallow him when the wood fell shut behind him and disconnected him from the city completely.

It smelled of incense and burnt candles, old wood and old stone. There was just enough light for Sunwoo to recognize the shapes of the wooden benches, the small altars in coves along the walls, and the main altar at the East end of the church. His steps, though he tried to be quiet, echoed in the vacuum that this place seemed to be.

He felt watched, scrutinized, judged, as if all those saints and holy figures surrounding him in paintings and sculptures, banners and relics could read his mind and condemn him for it.

Sunwoo crossed the church until he reached the altar, where he tentatively raised his head to look at the triptych in front of him.

The main panel depicted the Ascension of Christ, accompanied by his Crucifixion on the left and a Lamentation scene to the right. The paintings were large, and Sunwoo had to cast up his eyes as he let them wander over the altarpiece.

His heart started to ache.

What struck his attention the most was the middle scene. The wounded Christ was in the center, arms raised into the air, towards Heaven which already awaited him. He had left the sinful earth behind, his crying mother and supporters that had their hands folded in front of their chests in prayer. The colors of their clothes were earthen and dark blues and reds. Jesus, who wore white, was engulfed by clouds illuminated by beams of light of which the origin was unknown, and he was surrounded by angels.

The heavenly creatures guided him on his way, their bodies moving in the air with an elegance that no human could ever achieve, wrapped in sparse, light-colored robes, carried by spread wings. One angel reached his hand out to Christ, almost touching the seam of his robes but not quite.

Sunwoo stared at the scene, his stomach twisting more and more with every second until he felt sick for a reason he didn't understand at first until it dawned on him.

He was jealous.

He was so, so jealous.

If he could have swapped places and left this earth behind surrounded by angels, he would have done it in a heartbeat – although one angel was all he wanted.

If he closed his eyes and prayed hard enough, could the painting pull him in and put him up there into the air? He would readily accept the pain and humiliation, thorns digging into his skin, a stab to the chest and nails piercing his body, if it meant that he could see his angel again on his way to Heaven.

With his jealousy directed at the ascending Christ, guilt rose inside of him, digging into his already heavy soul. 

As he finally averted his eyes, they landed on a confessional booth next to the altar. He approached it slowly, hesitatingly rounding around the two stairsteps that led up to the altar table from three sides, covered by a rich red carpet, and then slipped into the booth.

No light could reach here, it was so dark that Sunwoo could barely see his own hand in front of his eyes. The small space didn’t allow much room for movement, and as it was intended, he went onto his knees in front of the wooden grid that separated him from where the pastor would sit. 

He was alone, though, nobody was on the other side to tell him that his sins were forgiven. 

According to Christian mythology, every human was a sinner by default. Sunwoo included, he was a sinner as much as everyone on this earth.

What sin had he committed?

Was longing for Juyeon a sin? 

Was his yearning really something to repent for?

The weight of this place seemed to crush down on him all of a sudden, he swayed forward and supported himself on the small ledge below the grid, elbows digging against the wood, folding his hands together and letting his head sink low between his shoulders, forehead resting against his wrists.

He shouldn’t have even stepped foot into this church, he thought to himself, what good had he thought would come out of this?

Suddenly, the heavy curtain was pulled back. The metal rings that the fabric was hung up on made a rattling noise against the pole fixated to the confessional booth’s dark wood. The sound echoed down the large hall, and Sunwoo cast his eyes up.

Juyeon looked more like a devil than an angel in this dim, eerie church. The strange light, caused by the moon shining through the colorful glass panels around them, made his hair seem even darker, his eyes strangely hollow, his skin glowing. He was scarily perfect and Sunwoo had truly never seen anyone or anything as breathtakingly beautiful as the creature in front of him.

If he didn’t focus on them, he could see the silhouette of Juyeon’s wings, large and gleaming white, though as always, they disappeared as soon as he tried to look at them directly.

Sunwoo swallowed, briefly wondering if he was hallucinating, if this was real.

“Get up,” Juyeon said.

Warmth filled Sunwoo’s lungs at the sound of his voice, up to the brim until he couldn’t breathe.

Despite the angel’s request – or had it been an order? – Sunwoo didn’t stand up but only adjusted his position, turning towards him but staying on his knees. The unyielding wood dug into his knees and he knew that his neck would hurt if he continued to look up from his low position, yet he stayed on the booth’s ground. 

His entire body felt strange, tingling, dazed.

“Why are you here? Am I in danger?”

Juyeon stepped closer. Just one step, but enough that Sunwoo had to put his head even further back. He wanted to swallow again, but his throat felt constricted as Juyeon slowly reached out to let his fingertips trail along his jaw before taking his chin between his thumb and angled index finger. The burning beneath his skin that Juyeon’s touch caused was addicting.

“You were screaming for me in your head. I could hear you pray. So I came.” 

Sunwoo gave his guardian angel a faint smile, almost unnoticeable. He hadn’t smiled in so long that it seemed strange to him, so alien, as if his muscles had forgotten how to do it. 

“I missed you,” he breathed. His voice was all choked-up. He was about to cry, seconds away from the first tears streaming down his cheeks.

"You're not mad at me that I came here, are you?"

The angel silently shook his head and opened up his hand. A hitched breath escaped Sunwoo’s parted lips once his palm slid into Juyeon’s and he was pulled onto his feet, and into a deep kiss.

Juyeon caught him off guard, his lips moving against his own were so sudden, without a premonition or hesitation, but Sunwoo had craved for this for so long that he reacted instantly. His hands, up to then helplessly hanging to his sides, reached to grab for anything they could find, the collar of his coat, the fabric of his sweater.

His attention was so addicting already, his touch felt like fire that Sunwoo couldn’t get enough of. What the angel’s kiss set off in him he couldn’t even begin to describe. It was beyond all words that any human language could come up with, more than Sunwoo’s mind could handle, it filled him up and consumed every part of him.

Juyeon kissed him with such an urgency, so much fervor and desire that, standing right next to an altar dedicated to the Ascension of Christ, Sunwoo felt like he was really the one rising to Heaven. He was crucified and resurrected with every angelic touch against his skin, every second of Juyeon’s lips against his.

The kiss made Sunwoo’s head dizzy and his legs weak, and when Juyeon muttered his name, breathy and whispered against him, it tipped him over the edge. A broken, shaky sigh slipped Sunwoo’s lips, and Juyeon’s arm wrapped around his waist was keeping his knees from giving way, but still he stumbled backwards, led by their lips clashing once more, longing for more.

The edge he bumped against, digging into his lower back, turned out to be the short end of a side altar. Sunwoo glanced to the side, shock shooting into the part of his brain that was still capable of rational thoughts, not tainted by need, at the sight of a relic cross that adorned the middle of the small altar, dangerously close to where his elbow now was that he had searched for balance, fingers curling around the edge of the marble surface.

As Sunwoo’s eyes flickered back to Juyeon’s, his breath hitched at the intensity of his gaze. Did it not bother him that they were in a church? That it was wildly inappropriate, blasphemous, to even think of such things in a house of God? He was an angel yet he had kissed Sunwoo, roping him deeper into this sin when he should be the one condemning him instead.

“Aren’t you afraid?” Sunwoo whispered, so close to him still that he could feel Juyeon’s lips brush against his own. “Afraid of being punished?”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Juyeon replied. Something about him seemed to glow, as if he was emitting light from within, illuminating the dimness around them.

“You being cast from heaven?” Sunwoo was breathless with every word, trying to keep his voice low so the echo against the church’s walls wouldn’t be too loud.

“If that happens, I promise to come back to you even as a fallen angel, or demon, or whatever becomes of me.”

“You swear?” Sunwoo asked with pleading eyes and a frown between his brows, gaze flickering over Juyeon’s face, restless.

“Mh. I swear.” Something in Juyeon’s smile was both somewhat wicked and so full of love. He brought up a hand to the side of his face, letting his thumb brush over the outline of Sunwoo’s bottom lip. “I swear to God.”

Looking at Juyeon like this, Sunwoo couldn’t help but let his eyes fall to his lips. He could have marveled at every feature, every detail, for all eternity – the way the corners of his mouths were shaped, the line of his Cupid’s bow, the hint of his upper teeth showing when his lips were slightly parted. 

Sunwoo’s heart started to ache. There it was again, that pain that he couldn’t explain, which shouldn’t be there just yet when Juyeon was still with him – wasn’t it enough to suffer in the moments alone?

“Sunwoo, I—”

"Why do I feel like this?"

Sunwoo hadn't meant to interrupt Juyeon. The words had just slipped out, without giving them any thought. They came straight to his confusing, so terribly confusing heart.

"You make me feel not alone, you make me feel so safe. With you I feel like there's something to long for, to live for, that there is meaning in all this… but when you leave, it hurts so much ."

His fingers were trembling as he curled his free left hand into a fist, pressing against his chest, against his heart.

“It's like… it’s like somehow I'm already scared of losing you, I already dread the time between this and our next meeting, although you’re still here. It’s like you take my heart with you every time you leave – a-and I shouldn’t feel like this, should I? It’s not normal, right? I feel like… I feel like I’m broken, but I can’t help it, it’s all out of my control. I don’t know what to do but love you when you’re here, and miss you when you’re gone.”

Juyeon’s lips, wetted from their kiss, parted in surprise.

“It’s too early to speak of love, I know that,” Sunwoo rushed to say. “I-I’m aware of that, it doesn’t even make sense, if you look at it rationally I barely know you, but…”

“Don’t expect this to make sense.” Juyeon’s voice was quiet, immediately comforting. “Don’t try to take a rational approach, it won’t help you this time – this transcends rationality, logic, what you think is normal or right.”

He reached out to tuck a strand of Sunwoo’s hair behind his ear. The moonlight, colored through the glass panels of the tall and narrow windows situated above the choir stalls, painted his face in purples and blues and reds.

“Don’t feel guilty, Sunwoo. You are not broken.”

“I feel like I am,” he whispered, not being able to hold back his tears any longer. “I feel like something is wrong with me for feeling like this, for feeling so much .”

"There is not. I promise you, there is not. Humans aren't meant to love angels. You're not supposed to see me or even know that my kind exists, so it only makes sense that it is overwhelming for you. I don’t understand it myself, I’m not any better, trust me, I’m also just… trying.”

Sunwoo’s eyes flickered up, widening.

“You too?”

Juyeon chuckled, giving him a sweet smile before he tilted his head. “Of course,” he breathed. “Sunwoo, when I’m away from you, I feel like I can’t breathe. When I think of you, there’s this pressure on my lungs, my airways close up, my heart grows so heavy… no matter what I do, you’re there in my thoughts, you’re like a ghost haunting me. My job, the entire purpose of my existence, should be only to watch over you, not to love you, and yet I do exactly that. It must be love, I don’t know how else to describe it, this yearning and desire.”

He added, quieter, “if one of us is broken then it must be me. Angels shouldn’t know something as human as love in the first place.”

Love.

He said love.

Ever since Sunwoo had been able to remember, love had been a sensitive topic for him. Love had fascinated him, he had craved it wherever he went, whoever he spoke to, he had always hoped for love.

The realization that Juyeon loved him, that he was somehow worthy of the love of an angel, drove tears to Sunwoo’s eyes yet again the more it settled in.

Juyeon had one more sentence to add.

“There is something about you that makes me feel whole in a world where I am nothing but a shadow. I don’t know how you do it, I can’t explain it, but I would rather die than give up this feeling.”

5

Sunwoo started to wonder if he had once saved earth itself and this was Heaven’s way to show gratitude. Why else should he deserve such an angel’s love? Why else should such a destiny happen to someone as ordinary as him?

Strangely enough, although the moments together were rare, only catching glimpses of each other, he would have described the time that followed that one night in the church as the happiest of his life. It wasn’t nearly enough to leave their hungry, impetuous hearts ever fully satisfied, to ever achieve real contentment without the fear of having to part ways, but the knowledge of each other’s feelings was enough to keep going.

It seemed as if Sunwoo had finally found a way to bear the moments in which the emptiness in his heart felt like a gaping hole in his chest, bleeding and festering. There was no use in crying when he knew that eventually, he would get to see him again.

Juyeon didn’t appear every time that he prayed for him, but when he did, Sunwoo caught glimpses of his own little paradise in that cold and empty church, in his angel’s embrace, each time leaving as more of a sinner than before. 

When he missed him especially much, Sunwoo resorted to other means to see him. He stepped close to the tracks of subway stations, just a little too close. He stood in front of the opened kitchen drawer where he kept the knives for too long. He walked on the path for bicycles instead of the one for pedestrians.

Sometimes, only sometimes, that was enough to summon him.

Then there were the instances in which he didn’t intend to call Juyeon to him at all, and their meetings were almost accidental.

It happened like this one rainy day in early summer. The roads were slippery with rainwater, dirtied by the city’s smog, and Sunwoo hurried along a sidewalk, a black umbrella in both hands to shield himself at least a little bit from the troubled weather. 

Sunwoo hadn’t seen Juyeon in a couple of weeks, had spent every other night sitting in the church’s first row, turning his head at the smallest sound or movement that he thought to detect in the corner of his eye – nothing, and his entire body longed for him, for just a glimpse of him – he was patient, though, he had promised Juyeon to make the best out of his moments alone, filling them with anticipation rather than hopelessness.

Rain drummed onto the umbrella above his head, almost louder than the traffic, as he made his way through the monotonously moving mass of strangers.

Fairly similar to the first time he had ever seen Juyeon, when he had been too reckless to notice the approaching car, Sunwoo didn’t see the bike coming – and neither did the biker, who had his face slightly averted from the road to protect his face from the rough rain.

A second before Sunwoo would step onto the bike way and be hit by the bike’s handlebar, if not the tire as well, risking falling and injuring himself, he was pulled backwards, arms curling around his waist from behind, back pressing against a chest.

Sunwoo gasped out loud, his heart first stumbling because of the sudden movement, then once more at the realization.

“... thank you."

Sunwoo smiled, keeping his eyes on the road in front of him as he let himself relax against Juyeon. With one hand still holding up the umbrella, which he had almost dropped before, he let his fingers run over the back of the other’s hand.

“Long time no see,” he whispered.

“Watch where you’re going.”

“Sorry—” Sunwoo’s smile widened a little. “But you came, didn’t you? You always do.”

"No, Sunwoo, I mean it. Don’t let this happen again, don’t do that again.”

Juyeon's voice tingled against the side of Sunwoo's neck. It was as gentle as ever, but something in his voice was off.

Sunwoo turned around in Juyeon's embrace, and looking into his eyes, he knew immediately that this time, something was different. The expression on Juyeon’s beautiful face was plagued, twisted with complex emotions that Sunwoo could barely begin to decipher.

Sunwoo hesitated before he spoke, softly, slightly tilting his head, "what, um, what do you mean?” 

"Don't put yourself in danger again." 

Sunwoo felt how Juyeon's fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt, holding him close. He gave Juyeon a hesitating smile.

"I'm sorry," he said, "it wasn’t on purpose, really, I just—"

"I'm saying this because I won't appear the next time – or any other time from now on, in fact."

Sunwoo hesitated. His heart stuttered to a stop.

"O-oh? What do you mean by that? You said you'd always come, you said that it’s your purpose."

Juyeon looked at him, and Sunwoo recognized a sadness in his eyes, such unfathomable melancholy and wistfulness that it hurt to even just look at him.

"There was a change of plans," the angel said. He spoke quietly, softly, with breaks in between as if he thought very carefully about each word that left his lips. "I can't come to you any longer. I won't be watching over you any longer. We can't keep going like this."

Sunwoo's reaction was almost robotical, as if the meaning of Juyeon's words couldn't quite settle in, as if his mind was refusing to understand what he was saying and operated on autopilot until he knew how to react.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, with a nervous laugh overshadowing the fear that chilled his bones, froze his blood. "We can't keep going? Why not?" 

"It's just not right…"

This was a nightmare. He was sleeping, this was just a bad dream. Sunwoo thought about pushing him away, stumbling backwards, closing his eyes and hoping he'd wake up from this nightmare.

"You have to try to understand, Sunwoo, I don’t belong to your world. I’m not a part of it, so we shouldn't—" 

“But you belong to my world,” Sunwoo whispered. His free hand rested against his arm before he moved it up to Juyeon's neck, cupping the side of his face, thumb gently caressing over the angel's skin. For a heartbeat, it seemed like Juyeon wanted to nestle his cheek against his hand, lean into the touch, but before he did it something told him not to. Sunwoo felt a lump in his throat. “I can see you,” he continued, “I-I can touch you, you are real to me."

"And it shouldn't be like that."

"How can you say that… You and I, we’re fated to be together."

“You don’t really believe that that is true, do you?”

“I do, I truly do, we are . How else do you explain all of this then?"

“Destined love, bound by a string of fate… you want to believe all that because that would mean that I am bound to you no matter what, despite it all. That there is always a way. It's not true. It's nothing but foolish hope and wishful thinking, there is no way for us to ever work out without crashing and burning."

Sunwoo was stunned, silent. His head had started hurting, it hurt so much , so unbearably much.

How could he say all this? How could he have changed his mind so drastically all at once? It didn't make sense, those words didn't sound like him at all…

Slowly, something dawned on Sunwoo – an idea, an explanation, though he wasn’t quite sure if he wanted it to be true.

“Did… did you get in trouble? Did something happen?”

Juyeon wavered.

“No,” he said, and he had never said anything less convincing.

“Something happened,” Sunwoo concluded, suddenly breathless. “You don't mean all this, s-someone is telling you to say, right? Will you be punished otherwise?"

Juyeon didn't reply. Tears started to glisten in his eyes, rising slowly but steadily. Sunwoo wasn’t ready to see him cry. He wasn’t prepared.

"Is there nothing I can do? If you can’t be here, what if I go with you?"

"No, n-no, you can’t, you'd have to—"

"I'd do anything. I don't care what happens  – I have nothing keeping me here if it is not for your love.”

“No, you belong here. I want you to live like you are supposed to live, the way that was always meant for you, here on earth, surrounded by your kind – not in this in between. It’s not good for either of us.”

“I thought you’d rather die than let go of what we have?”

Juyeon's lips parted, but whatever he had wanted to say went unspoken. 

"Tell me what happened," Sunwoo said, begging. It felt like whiplash, how fast this conversation had turned to the worst that he could have imagined. “Maybe I can help…”

He didn't understand. He didn't get it. He was so helpless, so defenseless.

“There is nothing you can do to help. This border between us, it's just too big. I—” Juyeon’s perfect voice cracked like porcelain at the next words. Sunwoo couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, couldn’t feel. “—I can’t cross it. I try, and I can’t, I want to but I don’t know how, and if I keep trying, it is not going to end well for us."

“But—”

“Keep yourself out of danger, my love. Can you promise me that? Don’t be reckless, don’t play with your precious life. Please. Try to find happiness, I know it's hard but I believe in you."

Sunwoo’s heart sank low, so low, tumbling down a bottomless pit.

“Don’t…" He stumbled back, the hand he held the umbrella with suddenly so weak that he tilted it, and the first raindrops started to soak into his hair, "please don’t—”

Juyeon smiled through the tears glistening in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I'm sorry, and I love you. I have no choice. I wish I had—"

Sunwoo's vision grew hazy as tears clouded his eyes, and the image of Juyeon's regret-stricken face was blurry even as he came closer, reaching out to him once more.

He let Juyeon pull him in. The umbrella slipped through his fingers as soon as Juyeon pressed his lips against his for one last kiss. 

Their tears mixed with the drops of rain falling down on them as Sunwoo allowed himself to drown in the kiss, for just a moment. For a brief moment, time stopped for them, while for the many pedestrians rushing past them on this busy street, seconds passed as usual. Juyeon's lips had become his sanctuary, his large and gentle hands against the sides of his face his refuge.

Then, even though Sunwoo clung to his wrists with the intent of never letting go, the angel disappeared, slipping through his fingers as if he had just been a figure of his dreams, as if he had never been more but a figment of his imagination.

Sunwoo was completely soaked, wet strands hanging into his face, water running down his face and seeping into his drenched, heavy clothes, when a heaviness lowered itself onto his heart, so strong he sank down to crouch as his legs would no longer support him. He pressed a hand against his mouth to muffle the sobs escaping him, head lowered as the rain had started to burn in his eyes.

6

Juyeon’s disappearance finally broke the dam in Sunwoo’s heart, letting the pain flood into him. Had the debilitating fear of losing him been a warning from the start? Was there anything that he could have done to prevent this?

Sunwoo cried up to Heaven, again and again, begging for an answer, pleading for a sign, an explanation, anything. Maybe someone up there would listen – though why would any heavenly creature listen to him, when he was nothing but a sinner in their eyes?

He couldn’t get that look on Juyeon’s face out of his head. He hadn’t wanted to leave him, hadn’t he assured him that he couldn’t live without him? Did Sunwoo really have to live on without ever knowing what had happened, with no trace of Juyeon in his life other than that widening whole torn into his chest? He had no proof that Juyeon had ever even existed at all other than the lingering memory of how his touch felt – if only there had been something, anything, that he could have held onto…

He didn’t know what was worse, how much he missed him or the not knowing, but both made living with his thoughts unbearable. The only reason for why he didn’t resort to more drastic means to drown out his mind was his cowardly heart.

He was really just terribly scared, awfully weak and so, so lonely. He blamed it on the circumstances, repeating Juyeon’s words in his head like a mantra.

Don’t expect this to make sense. Don’t try to take a rational approach, it won’t help you this time – this transcends rationality, logic, what you think is normal or right.

Don’t feel guilty, Sunwoo. You are not broken.

Humans aren't meant to love angels. You're not supposed to see me or even know that my kind exists, so it only makes sense that it is overwhelming for you.

Right… It was not his fault that it hurt so much, it was not his fault that desire had led him down this road, nor was it Juyeon’s. They had fallen prey to the cruelty of fate and love.

In the end, loneliness won, it even won over cowardice and Sunwoo found himself on the rooftop of a building. 

His legs were too numb to tremble as he stepped onto the broad ledge. The building was thirty, maybe forty-something stories high. The roof terrasse had flower boxes arranged next to a few benches scattered around, perhaps this place was regularly used for smoking breaks and secluded meetups, but currently, there was nobody here but him.

He couldn’t look down for longer than a second, or fear would take over and divert him from his plan. It wasn’t even a proper plan – it was nothing but a desperate attempt, the only thing that came to his mind, a last option. 

It was a very calm day – no rain, barely any wind, even up here the world seemed to have come to a halt, holding its breath. After a moment of hesitation, Sunwoo nudged his feet closer to the edge. There was barely a finger’s width between the air and the tip of his shoes, he noticed at another attempt to glance down. 

This had to work. It had to. Juyeon couldn’t be gone completely, right? As soon as he noticed that Sunwoo was one step away from guaranteed death, he would surely come, right, no matter the circumstances?

And if not… if he didn’t come… 

What then?

Sunwoo didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about anything. He only wanted to see Juyeon again. He wanted his heart to be complete again. 

Was that really too much to ask for?

“Sunwoo.”

Tears shot to his eyes immediately. The breath he let out was shaky yet deep, slow, and with the air escaping his parted lips, fear and anxiety vanished as well.

For a moment, it was all alright again.

"It's really you?"

"Mh. Don't you recognize my voice anymore, hm?" 

Sunwoo laughed breathily. He felt the first tears make their way down his cheek but didn't dare to move his slightly outstretched arms and wipe them away.

"I do, of course I do."

"Turn around, Sunwoo."

"Wait just a bit," Sunwoo replied. "Just a bit longer. In case this isn't real, and you're not really there, I want it to feel real for just a bit more."

"I am really here. Please turn around… I want to look at you. Please."

"Do you miss me as much as I miss you?"

"Every day."

With small, hesitating steps, Sunwoo turned around on the steps, turning his back towards the ledge.

Juyeon looked different. While his hair was still the same, daintily falling into his face, he wore different clothes – instead of that turtleneck and coat combination, from which he had switched to a simple shirt with the rising temperature, he now wore complete white. He looked like holy figures in those paintings in the church, if they had been transported into the 21st century. The slightly sheer, pristine white blouse was tucked into fitted white pants.

He looked truly angelic. He was breathtaking.

“Don’t cry…” he whispered, when his own eyes were so full of sadness and regret.

Sunwoo sniffled, blinking away tears. “Y-you said you couldn’t come anymore…”

“And I asked you to not get into danger anymore, didn’t I?”

“I’m sorry,” Sunwoo whispered, “I didn’t listen. It just… it just got too much, I couldn’t—”

“—breathe? See… neither could I.” 

The idea that Juyeon experienced the same feelings when they were together, the same feelings when they were apart, both comforted Sunwoo and made his heart hurt. 

He didn’t want him to be in such pain.

“Won’t you get in trouble?”

Juyeon hesitated. He had not yet taken a step towards Sunwoo yet, though Sunwoo could feel that he wanted to, that his entire body screamed for just the touch of their hands.

“I might,” he replied, “but I’ll risk that for a moment with you.”

Hearing those words, Sunwoo couldn’t hold it in anymore. He wanted to fall into his arms, hug him so close, and kiss him with all the desire that had pent up since the last time their lips had met.

Distracted by their conversation, just by the sight of him, Sunwoo had forgotten that he stood on the ledge of a high, very high rising building. He had barely even lifted his foot to step forward onto steady ground when he stumbled. 

He immediately spread his arms, flailing to regain stability, heart dropping like on a rollercoaster freefall.

Sunwoo didn’t realize that in his attempt to find balance, he had instinctively leaned too far backwards, and his foot, of which the heel had already hovered above the air, slipped completely off the ledge. 

When he realized, it was already too late.

A fall from this height should have only taken maybe five seconds. 

One, two, three, four, five.

For some reason, some incredibly cruel reason, for those five seconds – if even – Sunwoo was either stuck in a time warp, or his mind suddenly worked at ten times its capacity, as while he fell, every single thought was so clear to him.

His eyes faced up towards the sky. It was clear, so pretty, only a few little clouds wandering across the horizon, and Sunwoo vaguely wondered if he could see all the way up to Heaven, when he felt fingers curling around his arm.

Sunwoo hadn’t noticed that Juyeon had immediately lunged towards him as soon as his step had wavered. He hadn’t realized either that the angel had been just a bit too late, only managing to grab the seam of his loose shirt, and instead of letting go to secure his own safety on that narrow ledge, had held onto him, letting himself be pulled off the roof as well.

It happened so fast, and before he knew it, Juyeon had pulled Sunwoo into his arms, one hand at the back of his head, the other at his back, keeping him close as they now fell together, picking up pace with every meter.

Sunwoo had just enough time to curl his fingers around the fabric of Juyeon’s shirt and hide his face in the crook of the other’s shoulder, where he had always felt so safe, where nothing could happen to him.

He only vaguely registered how the flickering, strangely transparent apparition of the angel’s wings became clearer, as if someone turned up the level of saturation until they were real, not only a figment from another realm but actually real .

It was a beautiful pair of wings, so flawlessly white, as majestic as those as a swan even now that the wind tugged at them, mercilessly ruffling the feathers. 

Sunwoo had already closes his eyes, pressed them shut rather, fearing the impact on the ground after a good hundred meters of freefall more than anything he had ever been afraid of, but nevertheless he noticed how the wings wrapped around their intertwined bodies, acting as a protective shield – but what could wings do, if they couldn’t fly? 

They could hardly save them, couldn’t they?

Nothing could save them anymore.

7

The impact never came, and its absence was perhaps even more terrifying. Sunwoo had thought about what it would feel like to die like this before. Pure speculation, if he’d be dead immediately once he collided with the floor or if it’d be painful. 

After falling from a height like this, onto solid concrete, there surely wouldn’t be the time for any suffering, right?

With that logic in mind, Sunwoo was sure that he had already died as he found himself in a white space instead of lying on concrete ground. His body should be broken, but here he was, alive and well, in a strange place.

Was this Heaven? 

Would he even be let into that place, after what Juyeon and him had done?

Or was it a dream? There was only white around him – was this some kind of liminal realm, some strange blur of reality, somewhere in-between time and space?

Sunwoo realized that he was kneeling. He slowly started to feel his body, as if it had taken him a while to fully arrive, and then as he lowered his eyes, he realized that whatever his place was, it wasn’t Heaven. 

It couldn’t be Heaven, it was just impossible – because if it was, Juyeon wouldn’t be lying in his arms. He wouldn’t be dying in his arms. 

Sunwoo’s eyes took in the sight in front of him bit by bit, stupidly slow as it was so much to process, way too much to handle. Juyeon was heavy in his arms, his body weak. His hands were shaking, still curled around Sunwoo’s shirt but with their lessening strength, the fabric eventually slipped through his fingers and his hands fell, one now resting on his stomach, the other on the ground next to his body.

Sunwoo stared in horror at how flat his breaths were, each movement of his torso a chore, as if thorns had wrapped themselves tightly around his heart and lungs, squeezing and piercing. The pain showed in his eyes that wandered over Sunwoo’s face, restless, filled with tears.

Sunwoo didn’t understand what was happening. Why was he unscathed, and Juyeon was in this condition? What had happened, and where were they ?

That was then Sunwoo noticed that Juyeon was bleeding. He was hurt, gravely, he was bleeding, red stains appearing on that ethereal white covering his body and spreading fast, painting Sunwoo’s hands as they helplessly tried to do anything, to press against his wounds to keep the blood from seeping out. Panic-induced tears rose to his eyes, hot and burning.

He didn’t understand what had caused those wounds – they were not the kind that a collision with the ground caused, they were unlike anything that Sunwoo knew, as if something was destroying him from the inside, tearing him apart. 

His wings were the next thing that Sunwoo noticed. Here in this strange place they were fully there, Sunwoo could touch them, run his fingers through the soft feathers like he had always wanted – only that they now seemed to disappear little by little, particles coming off and being carried away by a breeze that Sunwoo couldn’t feel. 

He couldn’t feel anything. His heart kept sinking lower and lower until he couldn’t breathe, and his attempts to bring air into his lungs were rushed and forced, close to hyperventilating.

“What is happening,” he cried, “I don’t understand, I—” The words got stuck in his throat suddenly, and he came to a terrifying conclusion. “It’s my fault,” he gasped out, “it’s a-all because of me, is it…”

He wanted to die. Right then and there, on the spot, he wanted to suffocate as he already couldn’t breathe, he didn’t deserve to be able to take even one more breath if Juyeon didn’t.

“N-no, Sunwoo.” His wings had almost fully disintegrated as Juyeon managed to gasp out coherent words. “‘s not.”

“If I hadn’t—”

“‘s not your fault. None of it. It was my decision.”

Sunwoo’s lips parted, but no words left his lips as the urgency nearing panic in Juyeon’s eyes settled in.

“I think you were right,” the angel whispered softly. “About us being destined to love each other. I’m sorry what I said, that it was nothing but wishful thinking—”

He was interrupted by a strained cough forcing its way through his lungs.

“I’ve loved you for a long time, Sunwoo, and for a while, loving you was all I had. It wasn’t easy, this life, if you can even call it that, but you made it worth something. I wish we could have had more time, that I could have met you earlier somehow, but I’m eternally grateful for the little time we had.”

It took him a long time to continue. It seemed as if every syllable cost him way more strength than he still had, but somehow, he managed to go on. “Don’t miss me too much. Live on, and live happily, without regret or guilt.”

“But how?” Sunwoo cried out. He had regained control over his numb fingers, and while one hand was curled into a fist around the blood-soaked fabric of Juyeon’s clothes, the other he placed at the side of Juyeon’s face. He was cold to the touch. His wings had almost completely vanished – and with them his strength.

“How could I possibly do that?”

Juyeon’s answer would never leave his lips. His body slackened in Sunwoo’s arms, his head sinking against Sunwoo’s chest.

Juyeon had been wrong about one thing.

It was all Sunwoo’s fault. There was no use in denying it, as it was so blatant to see. How could he not blame himself, when his selfishness, his inability to let go of a dream in which he could have found happiness had gotten the love of his life killed. 

He was responsible for the death of his own guardian angel.

Sunwoo came back to his senses lying on concrete ground. He felt nothing but emptiness, staring up at the sky, his limbs stretched out on the ground. People flocked around him, the first hands reached out to him, he heard frightened voices and alarmed shouts, someone shook him by the shoulder.

He could have been in the midst of dying and he couldn’t have noticed, staring blankly at the sky while tears pooled in the corners of his eyes before spilling over and silently making their way down the side of his face.

He turned his head, or rather let it fall to the side as a white feather, a single white feather caught his attention, more than any of the bystanders. His eyes followed it float towards the ground, lingering on the concrete next to him for only a second before a sudden breeze carried it away, out of Sunwoo’s sight.

Later on he heard the nurses tell him that it was an inexplicable miracle, how he could have survived a fall like that and gotten away with nothing but a few broken bones and sprained ribs – as if something invisible had softened the impact. Seems like your guardian angel did a great job, one of them joked.

And only later on, once it had all settled in, he fully understood that Juyeon had given his own life for him.

8

At night, it was overwhelming. When longing and loneliness mixed with silence and solitude, Sunwoo lay in bed with his body convulsing with every sob. Guilt ate him alive for hours, and then in the morning, he got up and got through his day without any of the people in his life suspecting even a thing – or maybe they did, and just hid it really well.

He took Juyeon’s words to heart.

He stayed out of danger. He watched where he walked, he tried to not let it get to him. He lived on, for giving up would only mean that his sacrifice would have been in vain. Sunwoo would do anything to prevent that from happening, and if that meant that he had to force himself into a happy, normal and safe life, then so be it.

Juyeon had sacrificed himself to give him a second chance. He was not going to throw it away. 

As it turned out, strangely enough, there was something positive about anonymity in a coffee shop. 

He could come in every day, sit at the same place, for hours, and nobody would notice or think anything of it. 

He sat there, stirring his hot chocolate although there wasn’t really much left, listening to the busy chatter around him and the sound of grinding coffee beans coming from the counter. Someone was on the phone behind him, a school clique was talking loudly over their homework on a table diagonally across from him.

Sunwoo swayed forward, putting his weight on his forearms as he looked outside. It was early, not even lunch time. Bright sunlight illuminated the wide space, painting the café in an almost picturesque way.

He crossed his legs beneath the table, swallowing down a lump in his throat before finishing off his chocolate. He should leave soon, he was quite busy today and had only granted himself half an hour here, just to sit and… do nothing, really. Think. Breathe.

He pushed himself onto his feet – immediately as he did so, a couple that had walked up the stairs, looking for free seats headed for his table, which was why he quickly made his way towards the exit.

He wasn’t listening to music this time – recently he had been trying to break loose of the habit as it made him so unaware of his surroundings. If anyone called his name, he wouldn’t hear it, and he couldn’t risk that.

The coffee shop was quite full. Almost every table was occupied, there was a lengthy queue at the counter and the strangers’ voices around him overshadowed his own footsteps. Sunwoo kept his head low as he passed through the room, clutching at his phone with one hand and his backpack with the other, speeding up a little whenever he had to go right past tables – he didn’t expect that someone wanted to stand up in the same moment that he passed, and before he could slow down, he had already bumped into someone and caused them to drop a bunch of formerly neatly piled-up papers.

“Sorry, sorry,” he muttered, cursing under his breath before he immediately crouched down to hastily pick up the scattered documents – half-finished assignment for some college classes, he assumed by the looks of it.

“Oh. No worries.”

At the voice above him, Sunwoo froze. Every cell of his entire body came to a halt, so sudden it seemed to give him whiplash. He remained still for a second, then another his head kept low, eyes directed at the pieces of paper in front of him. His hands with which he had already picked up some of the sheets, started to shake, though probably unnoticeable for anyone else.

“I’ll help you.” His deep voice resounded like a song in Sunwoo’s mind, so calm, so kind, and so, so familiar.

Sunwoo didn’t dare to raise his head.

What if he was just imagining things again, what if it was all in his head again? 

But then, a hand reached out to grab a few sheets lying near Sunwoo, and on the long and slender, elegantly shaped fingers Sunwoo noticed multiple rings, simple silver ones. He would have recognized those hands alone, and the rings only attested to his surmise. 

As if his voice hadn’t been enough already… 

A lump appeared in Sunwoo’s throat, a shakiness in every breath which was labored now, slowly as if that could give him more time. He swallowed hard, blinking quickly to hold back the tears that had risen up to his eyes. He had worked for weeks, then months, on accepting that he’d never see him again, had slowly but surely told himself to stop looking for him everywhere he went, for even just a glimpse of him.

Now Sunwoo raised his head and looked into his face again. His face. It was really him.

Juyeon had sunk to his knees, deft hand busily collecting the sheets of printed paper as he gave him a smile, his smile.

Sunwoo wasn’t quite sure how he managed to keep himself from bursting into tears, somehow they got stuck somewhere on the way.

Perhaps because somewhere in his mind, he already knew. Sunwoo had looked into his eyes, and realized that Juyeon didn’t know him. 

The smile on his lips was directed at a stranger. There was not even one part of him that recognized him, no twitch of the corners of his mouth, no widening of his pupils. He was a complete stranger to him, one of many, only that he had coincidentally now crossed his path. He didn’t even really look at him.

Sunwoo wanted to breathe. He couldn’t.

There was another realization that he had come to, one that made him wonder briefly if this was a dream.

Juyeon was human. It took Sunwoo a moment to figure out how he knew, the changes were so small after all… but he had spent enough time looking into his face. He knew it better than his own, still, and to him, every little detail was so striking. 

His jaw was reddened where the button at his jacket sleeve had scratched against the skin. A lash clung at his cheek. His hair was disheveled, from running his hands through the strands and probably still from the cold wind outside. His hoodie was slightly crooked, the ribbons tied to an uneven, loose bowknot. 

To Sunwoo, he was still perfect, he’d always be, but he wasn ’t perfect anymore, neither angelic nor ethereal. He was human.

“Are you okay?” Juyeon tilted his head slightly, a worried frown between his brows. “It’s really no problem, this, don’t worry, really!”

“O-okay.” Sunwoo swallowed, cleared his throat, tried to muster a smile but failed, still blinking quickly.

“Have we met before?” he asked, tentatively, just in case – he didn’t know what he was hoping for, perhaps an airy laughter, to hear “you don’t remember me?”, perhaps his name coming from the other’s lips.

“No…” Juyeon scratched his head in thought, eyes slightly widened in confusion. He halted briefly before picking up the last few sheets of paper. “I don’t think so. I don’t recall.”

“O-oh,” Sunwoo pressed out, aware of how puzzling the situation had to be for the other, looking into a stranger’s teary eyes and being unaware of the reason why, “oh, okay. Must have mistaken you for someone else.”

With those two realizations, that Juyeon’s memory of him was as lost as his wings, a strange mixture of fear and relief had struck him. Relief that he was here, and fear that he would leave again, not by leaving this world, dying, sacrificing himself, but simply by walking out of the door.

“Ah – wait.”

Sunwoo was ripped away from his worries as something tugged at his jacket. He cast his eyes up at Juyeon, who already had wanted to straighten his legs to stand up, and now smiled at him, so wide his eyes formed into crescents. He gestured towards the scarf he had loosely slung around his neck – one end simply hung down, while the other…

Sunwoo felt once again like his entire body had frozen as he looked at a thin, red thread belonging to the other end of Juyeon’s scarf, that had somehow hooked into the zipper of Sunwoo’s jacket – perhaps right when they had collided.

Juyeon first tugged at the scarf, but the thread wouldn’t loosen at first. Just as Sunwoo, whose reaction had been delayed by the hurricane his mind had become, lifted his hands to entangle the thread himself, Juyeon had already reached out.

“Oh. Sorry about that,” Juyeon muttered swiftly as their hands touched, and Sunwoo could have cried in an instant.

“It’s okay,” he breathed, his hands lingering against Juyeon’s skin before he let his hands fall to his sides and left untying the thread to Juyeon instead.

He couldn’t help but look at him while Juyeon was distracted and wouldn’t be confused by the immeasurable love in Sunwoo’s gaze. Oh, how much he had missed him. Everything about him.

How could this have happened? Had he been granted a second chance? Did this happen to every guardian angel that died or sacrificed their life for the person that they were meant to protect? 

Sunwoo vividly remembered Juyeon's words in this exact coffee shop, many months ago – we don't save you, we guard you, he had said, guardian angels don't sacrifice themselves. 

The answer to all those questions would never be answered, Sunwoo knew that. Heaven had never replied, given him a sign or anything, no matter how long and how much he had cried and begged. Juyeon wasn't of any help either, as he now knew even less about the world he had once belonged to than Sunwoo did.

But did it matter? What mattered truly was that Juyeon was here now, standing in front of him.

Sunwoo felt a familiar warmth spreading inside of him, the kind of warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Relief had taken fear’s place, relief and a comforting sense of assurance. There was no reason to be afraid of losing him once more – not when fate had tied them together yet again, or perhaps still . How could he have forgotten? 

It was alright. 

It was all alright.

There was no reason to cry over the lost memories – maybe, it was even for the better. Like this, Juyeon would not have to bear the weight of all of what had happened, he wouldn’t have to carry all the guilt and regret, the consequences of the decisions he had taken and the pain that he had had to experience – Sunwoo would remember everything for the two of them, and that was enough.

They were bound by fate.

Sunwoo had found him again, and Juyeon would love him again. They could start anew, Sunwoo was sure of that – he didn’t know how, as Sunwoo was currently still nothing but a stranger to him, but perhaps the spark that would ignite fire had already happened, perhaps this was their fateful first meeting that Juyeon would later tell stories about, about the day they had first met. However life was going to play out, Sunwoo knew that this time, it would be without the pain, the fear, the guilt. 

They could start as equals now, as this time Juyeon belonged to this world as much as Sunwoo did.