A clear sky full of fading blues, purples, pinks, and oranges soared above the glass and concrete skyline of the city. Pale orange sunlight showered itself upon the hustle and bustle weaving through towering skyscrapers and cramped apartment buildings. Hundreds of adults were getting off of their bland office jobs, walking briskly in dark trimmed suits or sophisticated high heels. Students were released from the clutches of school as well, heading home to families, pets, and maybe even friends with bags on their backs and books in their arms.

Yixing counted the cracks lining the sidewalk with his hands stuffed in his jean pockets and his headphones blasting music over his ears. Deaf to the bustling crowd of workers and teens about him, he ambled to the crosswalk ahead, guitar slung over his shoulder. He hummed along to the tune of the piece he had to practice tonight, imagining his fingers strumming the chords inside his mind. Soon he found himself into a large group of people watching a small black screen across the road, waiting for the blinking red hand on it to disappear so they'd be able to get on their ways. Yixing began planning out the rest of his day in his head, setting aside increments of time for the things he needed to get done -ten minutes for a shower, one hour for dinner, three hours for homework, two hours for guitar practice- before an elderly woman bumped into him as she weaved her way through the crowd, shouting "Pardon me!" with a wavering voice.

The student found his line of sight glued onto the frail figure, or rather, the large wooden crate full of flowers and the vivid array of colors that her arms trembled under. It was clear she needed some assistance with the weight, but she was already too far in the mass of bodies, so Yixing decided to leave the situation alone. At least, that was until it appeared as if she was going to trek on right into the street full of rushing cars. Yixing raised an eyebrow because what was she doing?! He assumed she could see that crossing the road at this moment was most definitely not safe, but she continued wobbling on anyway, and Yixing most definitely did not want to witness someone die right in front of him. Plus, why wasn't anybody else stopping her? With a frown and a huff, he sprinted forward, guitar slamming against his back and school bag knocking into his side. Despite the annoyed glares and irritated curses he received from other people, Yixing plowed on towards the lady and grabbed her shoulders. She immediately stopped and spun around in surprise, smiling kindly when she met Yixing's concerned gaze.

"You should probably be a bit more careful ma'am; the light hasn't changed yet," the teen cautioned, pulling his headphones down while avoiding eye contact.

The woman chuckles. 

"Ah, thank you, dear. My eyesight has been getting worse recently; it's a consequence of my old age," she jokes, "thank you for your help."

For some reason, Yixing didn't quite believe her, but he just nodded anyway and began to work himself away from the elder. However, before he had the chance to gain any distance, she swiftly grabbed his arm and shoved a flower pot into his hands. Yixing clumsily fumbled with it for a bit, accidentally elbowing a few unsuspecting strangers. He apologized softly and glanced up at the woman in confusion, ignoring the perplexed stares he was receiving from those surrounding him.

"Take good care of it for me?" the elder asks with a smile.

The youth shook his head no. He didn't think he could handle taking care of a plant currently; he'd probably forget to water it and let it shrivel up and perish. Then he'd feel guilty, and that was something he didn't want to worry about right now. He attempted to return the pot, reaching for her wooden case, but the traffic light changed suddenly and an onslaught of commuting citizens tore the woman and him apart. He searched for a slight figure carrying colorful flowers above the bobbing heads that surrounded him, but he failed to see signs of the elderly woman anywhere. It was as if she had vanished, leaving him behind with a small white flower Yixing was sure he'd kill within a week. With a tired sigh and a protective arm in front of the bloom, he let himself get swept up in the mob and walked home.

Home was a tiny apartment tucked into an undisturbed corner of its complex, hidden away from the bright lights and sleepless nights of the city. Home was an empty apartment decorated cheaply with a worn welcome mat and vase sitting outside the door, greeting anybody who came by with silence. Home was a lonely apartment that lacked any memories of family, just Zhang Yixing and the solemn melodies of his guitar. Home was also Yixing's escape from the world, and though sometimes he'd long for someone else's company in the apartment, home was Yixing's favorite place to be.

The door opened and Yixing entered his residence, dumping his backpack on the floor and gingerly placing his guitar next to it. He toed off his shoes without much care and closed the entrance behind him with a click. Still holding the plant in his hands, he made his way around the living room, wondering where he should place it. Eventually, he settled on putting it on the windowsill in his bedroom, where he thought it could get the most sunlight (also where he was pretty sure he wouldn't forget about it, but Yixing's memory is a fickle thing). 

He gave the plant one last glance before grabbing a new set of clothes and heading across the hall to the bathroom for a shower. 

Stepping into the tiled room, Yixing flicked a switch on, chasing the darkness away with a glaring white light. He dumped a white t-shirt and black boxers onto the counter, running a hand through his hair. Carefully, he took a pair of black contact lenses out of his eyes, blinking a few times to get adjusted to the sensation he was left without them. His hands moved on their own out of habit, instantly setting the lenses in their case and shutting the container's lid. He then started to study himself in the mirror, watching as strands of his black hair fell gracefully over his now silver eyes. The metallic-colored orbs glared back at the weary young man- a permanent reminder of the fact that he would never be able to live a normal life.

Freak.

Monster.

What wrong with his eyes?

I heard they were the reason his parents died. He just looked at them one day and poof, they died.

Don't get close to him, don't let him look at you, he'll off you like he did his parents.

He's probably a witch or some ; how could he not be with eyes like that?

It's funny though, Yixing thinks, because even though they're different, these eyes do absolutely nothing at all. He then scoffs. It's even funnier how I still want to try and make friends with these people.

After a few seconds of self-reflection, he hastily turned away from the mirror and dragged his palms down his face. Then he quickly stripped himself of his clothing and slipped into the shower while turning the handle.

Cold water droplets pelted Yixing's skin, and he had hoped they could wash away all of his stresses, but they continued on bombarding him without bringing any relief. Yixing massaged shampoo into his scalp and lathered his body with soap, reliving the day throughout his head. He only realized he had been in the shower for far longer than planned when he felt the skin on his fingers become wrinkly. He promptly turned off the running water. Quickly, he dried and clothed himself before tossing his dirty clothes into the laundry hamper and going about the rest of his day.

Dinner was thrown together in a small kitchenette as Yixing lazily stirred mac n' cheese with a wooden spoon and hummed to himself. A few minutes later he scraped the mixture into a small bowl and headed to the living room. He made himself comfortable on the couch, sitting at a small wooden table, and began spooning pasta into his mouth as he simultaneously flipped through dozens of channels on an ancient-looking TV. It was at times like these he'd remember what it was like sitting around a large dinner table with family, sharing stories and making jokes while eating a proper home-cooked meal.  He'd recollect those precious moments with his aunt and uncle with each mushy spoonful. A strange bitterness suddenly overwhelmed his heart, and he let the tablespoon he was holding fall into the cheese-covered bowl with a clang. He wrapped the bowl and stuffed it in his sparsely-filled fridge before heading to his bag to grab the homework he needed to start on tonight.

Homework was done as Yixing hunched over his desk while mindlessly scribbling numbers and working out problems on his calculus worksheet. Gradually, the soft scrapes and scratches of writing slowed. The letters and numbers blurred together, and soon Yixing found that he had no clue what he was looking at anymore. It's probably time to stop before my brain explodes. He put down his pencil and turned off the lamp, looking at his work and making sure he was satisfied with what he had completed. This used to be the point where he'd get someone else to check his work as well, since his mind wasn't necessarily in tip-top shape after hours of non-stop problem-solving, but he knew that there was no one else here he could ask for help from. With a scrunch of his nose, he took the papers and reviewed his answers again, allowing his spent brain to deem them good enough before rushing to the entrance of his home, where he left his dearest instrument.

Practicing guitar was probably the only enjoyable part of Yixing's daily routine, and he smiled as he manipulated his fingers over the strings. A soothing melody seeped from the instrument as the player sang along.

Neoreul wihan gili hana ittdamyeon

Geugeon jigeum baro neo ane isseo

Geureohkedo gyeondyeonaelsu ittdamyeon

Geugose neoeui modeun geol mat gyeo bwa...

Hours passed and Yixing soon found himself brushing his teeth and going to bed. He just lay there in the center of the mattress for awhile before turning onto his side and drifting fast asleep, listening to the murmurs and honks of cars traveling to their destinations. There was the occasional loud laughter from friends that had gone out and the tiny clicks of wooden doors as apartment residents arrived home. Any thoughts of the old woman and the flower dissipated and were forgotten as the teen dreamt. Tomorrow would be a new day, same schedule; today would be a fuzzy image he'd let slip from his mind.

"Make a wish," an unfamiliar voice breathed, the sound echoing throughout the moonlit bedroom.

At this moment, Yixing was half-awake, positive that whatever he was hearing was just a symptom of lack of sleep. He shifted all over the mattress and curled himself up deeper into the covers, willing himself to slumber once again. However, as much as he tried to clear his mind and fall back into a world of dreams, thoughts began flooding into his brain. What if I wasn't imagining that voice? Did someone sneak into the apartment? Am I being robbed? Is someone planning to murder me? Why did they want me to "make a wish"? Maybe I have a stalker? Am I just being stupid? It kind of sounded like it was coming from the windowsill...I- I should just check it out.

Yixing threw the covers off himself and rolled out of bed, taking a few steps to a small pane of glass where the beautiful bloom peacefully rested. What if it was this? His fingers tugged at one of the plant's green leaves. The student stared confusedly at the flower on his windowsill for a few seconds before shaking his head and letting out a soft chuckle. Had he actually thought the flower had spoken to him? He quickly stood up again and tucked himself into bed; he really needed to make sure he had a decent amount of sleep. Without it, he was sure to be irritable, and that certainly wouldn’t be very beneficial. With a sigh he shut his eyes, only to hear a dulcet voice whisper once again, speaking the same words that broke the silence previously.

"Make a wish."

Positive the sound was coming from the plant he was gifted several hours ago, Yixing re-positioned himself to face the window. At the sight before him, his mouth hung agape and his eyes widened. Inside a small terracotta pot, the flower lit up with an ethereal blue glow and shimmered under the moonlight. He blinked a few times and rubbed at his eyes. Flowers don’t usually glow, right? Yixing inwardly chided himself. Of course, flowers don’t usually glow, they shouldn’t glow at all! He pushed himself up again and made his way to the plant.

Once he knelt down, he fixed his gaze upon the strange bloom, as if boring holes into its white petals would answer all his questions. To his frustration, nothing was happening. The voice hadn't said anything more and the only thing the plant did was glow. Yixing honestly believed that a fairy or something of the sort would have made a magical appearance by now. Maybe he had fallen asleep again, and this was all simply a dream. 

Yixing picked up the pot and spun it around, scrutinizing every inch of the flower rooted inside, letting out a quiet sigh when he wasn't able to figure anything out. Nothing he was forced to memorize from his AP Biology class could possibly explain what the hell was wrong with this plant. Did he accidentally poison the poor thing? He had never been really good at taking care of himself, and surely he wouldn't have been any better at tending to another living being.

Out of curiosity, the boy poked at one of the petals that adorned the bloom. The flower immediately curled up and shot out a cloud of glittering, golden pollen, and Yixing inhaled some of the particles in his surprise. He leaned against the wall as a coughing fit ensued, careful to place the pot on the floor to prevent himself from dropping it. After the coughs subsided, he looked at the pot next to him. Instantly his brows furrowed and his lips pursed because why was the flower drooping? It was as if it was sulking- if plants had the ability to sulk of course.

"Please make a wish?"

The voice seemed rather sheepish this time, which only puzzled Yixing more. However, he supposed it wouldn't hurt to make a wish. Cradling the plant in his palms, he shut his eyes and confessed his deepest desires.

"I-I want to be able to make friends at school." He paused. "I'd like to fall in love as well," he added on quickly, slightly flushing due to embarrassment.

Silence fell upon the quaint bedroom once again, and Yixing clicked his tongue. Admittedly, he was slightly disappointed at the fact that absolutely nothing happened. But, more than anything else, he was disappointed in himself. He hadn't expected himself to give in to the request (one that he probably hallucinated or something) and act upon his childish what-ifs and maybes. In the end, he brought his hopes up, even though it was done on the spur-of-the-moment, and was let down. Why had he even expected anything to happen? Miracles like granted wishes could only be possible in fairy tales, and this reality he lived in was far from one. Unlike the perfect princesses and dashing princes that danced across the pages of the storybooks he read as a child, Yixing was marred with flaws. A pitiful high school student could never be the hero of a story. Perhaps he'd appear in the plot for a second before disappearing, quickly forgotten by anyone who read the tale; a supporting character was all he'd ever amount to be.

He sat the bloom back onto the windowsill and flopped onto his bed, limbs sprawled out over the blankets. 

For some reason, Yixing was easily lulled to sleep without a myriad of thoughts invading the depths of his conscience, despite what had just occurred.

Rays of sunlight peeked in through the blinds and scattered over a stirring lump under the covers. A raven head of hair popped out, and Yixing slowly began to wake. Inwardly groaning, he took the initiative to stumble out of the bedsheets, but before he could, he noticed that there was most definitely a strange dip in the bed, and it felt a bit warmer than normal. It was almost as if someone else was there, but the dazed teen was certain that would be impossible. He flipped himself around to be met with the sight of a boy in slumber, letting small puffs of breath out of his glossy pink lips. Yixing was much too tired to register exactly what is going on, so he just stared at the figure with lidded eyes and parted mouth. 

The strange-person-in-my-bed had unblemished pale skin and very soft-looking chestnut-brown hair. The strange-person-in-my-bed also had dainty long eyelashes that brush high cheekbones and a tall, thin nose that surely had to have been carved by the gods themselves. All-in-all, the strange-person-in-my-bed was undeniably gorgeous, even though his face was half-squished into a pillow. Yixing was fascinated and kept his gaze on the sleeping boy, even when the other started to awaken. Dark brown eyes fluttered open, and Yixing's breath hitched. They darted around, confused, before landing their sights back on Yixing, who only gawked in response with the same lidded eyes and parted lips. The stranger opened his mouth to speak as white wings shot out from behind him.

"Are you on drugs?" he inquired faintly.

"Am I on drugs?" the other replied dumbly.

A few minutes passed in an awkward silence. The pretty stranger began to shift uneasily under Yixing's unwavering gaze. The student steadily became more aware of the situation at hand, and features of shock arose on his face.

There is a random guy in my bed. Said random guy also doesn't seem to think there is anything unusual with sleeping with a stranger in their bed. Random guy is strikingly beautiful. Also, random guy has wings. Why the hell was I sleeping next to a stranger that may possibly be an alien?! Am I being abducted? Okay, okay. Wait. Calm down, calm down... oh my ing god, I'm going to die, aren't I!

Once he believed he had fully comprehended what was going on, Yixing leaped from the bed and landed on the carpet with a harsh thud. The most-definitely-not-a-human peeped above the covers, dumbfounded. He then pouted cutely in puzzlement and- this creature-thing is not cute Yixing! What are you thinking?! He is undoubtedly planning on murdering you!

"Are you alright?" the not-a-human asked, a tiny bit of concern lacing his voice. Now that Yixing considered it, not-a-human's voice sounded eerily similar to the voice he had heard last night.

It was then Yixing let out the manliest scream of his life.

A/N: Here's the first chapter! Wow, writing this much was a lot harder than I previously thought. xox Kudos to those who write like 50k stories all the time. > u < Anyway, there's probably a lot of grammar mistakes and stuff, sorry about that! Plus, it probably isn't very interesting either. x A x I hope I didn't disappoint too much. v 3 v Thanks for reading!