The sunlight hit the tree in a bright pane of green, broken up by the leaves into warm spots on the bench. Several sophomores were walking down the main path from the mechanics building towards the nearby café, sleeves rolled up past their elbows, and a few people were heading towards the campus cafeteria. It was a pretty Friday noon, hot and golden, and the park had red Japanese maples out by the front gates and a bed of sweet tulips behind the bench. Unlike the others, Myungsoo ate lunch here nearly every day of the week. No one else usually walked here during the day—not during an unusually warm spring. There weren’t enough trees to provide everyone with enough shade from the sweltering noon sun, only vast spaces of green grass and meandering paths. So Myungsoo liked to think that this was his park, that this was his bench, that those were his Japanese maples and his tulips. This was his spot, and he only invited special people to share it.

Myungsoo pushed his backpack to the side of the bench and moved over to make room for Sungyeol and Sungjong. Hoya, Woohyun, and Dongwoo had a slightly different Friday schedule and had already eaten, so today, it was just them, the Friday park lunch club. He pulled out his packed lunch—two chicken salad sandwiches—and passes one to Sungyeol.

“Thanks,” Sungyeol grinned. “You make the best food.”

“No problem.” He anxiously checked his watch. It was 12:34, meaning the physics lecture didn’t start for about another hour or so. He had plenty of time to enjoy his lunch.

Which wasn’t supposed to happen.

In a perfect world, he would’ve found Sunggyu at the other college campus around 40 minutes ago as soon as he finished lab, but Myungsoo ended up staying for extra work time and forgot. He shrunk in his seat on the bench. Part of the reason why he had insisted on coming to the park today even though the others thought it was too hot is because he wanted to avoid seeing Sunggyu. The park was a good ten-minute walk from his own campus and at least twenty minutes from Sunggyu’s college; the chances of them meeting were unlikely.

Myungsoo rummaged around in his backpack for some napkins and accidentally squished a plastic bag. All of a sudden, he didn’t feel like getting napkins anymore. “Sungjong, do you want the extra sandwich?” he asked. As long as that sandwich stayed in his backpack, he would feel guilty. He cared too much to forget about it.

“I’m vegetarian,” Sungjong said, sounding miffed. 

“Oh.” He coloured. Everyone knew that Sungjong was a vegetarian. “Sorry, I’ve been a little out of it today. I messed up one of my trials in lab and then I…” He trailed off when he notices Sungjong giving him a funny look. Sungjong was sensitive to things like that; he knew it was more than just being “out of it”. “Sungyeol, do you want it?”

“I’m alright.” Sungyeol held up his free hand. “But why’d you make an extra anyway? Your sandwiches are huge. I can barely finish one.”

Myungsoo smiled faintly. “It was actually for someone else, but I forgot to give it to them.”

Sungyeol and Sungjong looked at each other again, and Myungsoo bit into his own sandwich and chewed the chicken slowly, trying not to think about the other sandwich in his bag or the fact that he was a terrible liar. The taste of the sandwich was pretty good, but the food felt odd in his mouth. 

He shouldn’t have forgotten his agenda at home, and he should’ve written a reminder on his phone. Then he wouldn’t have forgotten the entire thing in the first place—one of the few chances he has to interact with him, and Myungsoo had missed it. 

It wasn’t easy, trying to befriend Kim Sunggyu. They didn’t even go to the same school. He attended the nearby conservatory as a music theory and composition major while Myungsoo studied mechanical engineering. Sunggyu was always reserved and liked to keep to himself. Sungyeol had once met him in the hallway on the way to Myungsoo’s apartment and proclaimed that he was “incredibly awkward”. Sungjong said that he had no opinion, but everyone knew better. Myungsoo’s cousin, Woohyun, who was studying as a vocal performance major at the same school, said that Sunggyu was apparently prescribed anti-depressants, but he never took them. “Have you ever heard his songs? They’re either hardcore rock or some seriously sad ,” he said. “The teachers don’t even know what to do with him. He has weird mood swings. He goes from being normal to sad.”

Myungsoo had in fact heard his songs, strummed on a well-worn guitar or played on a beat-up Casio keyboard. The first time was when Sunggyu had just moved in at the start of the year and Myungso brought over a Tupperware of fresh brownies as a housewarming gift. When he had rung the doorbell, he could hear melancholic piano chords playing in the background like a growing wave. They had stopped at the . A pale Sunggyu had answered the door and took the brownies with a skeptical thank you. The next day, Myungsoo found a scribbled note under his door saying that the brownies were good. From then on, Myungsoo developed a habit of going over to Sunggyu’s apartment with extra food. I made too much for dinner, he’d tell him. I figured it’d be better if I shared with you. They ate together at his coffee table, a tiny island in a sea of sheet music and books. Myungsoo would ask unassuming questions while Sunggyu picked at his vegetables. It was always a quiet but regular affair.

“Hey, isn’t that Sunggyu?” Sungyeol’s voice startled him from his reverie.

Myungsoo saw with a creeping, horrible feeling Kim Sunggyu, walking through the front gates of the park. His hair was ruffled in a reddish-brown halo around his head, and he wore a loose trench coat that floated out behind him like a massive sand-coloured cape, just like the girl from Late Autumn. His head was low on his chest, but Myungsoo knew that Sunggyu must’ve already seen them on the bench. The park was small; you could see things from the opposite side if you narrowed your eyes a little bit.

“Why is he walking around in a big trench coat? It’s out of season,” Sungjong said, squinting at him in the distance. “I mean, it’s spring. You wear that stuff when it’s cold, and it’s really hot right now.”

“Flashers wear trench coats,” Sungyeol said.

Sungjong shoved him. “Flashers are usually creepy old guys. But he does have a weird sense of fashion. Creepy graphic t-shirts. Shredded jeans. Combat boots. Dyed hair.”

“But your hair’s dyed!”

“It’s dark brown. You can barely tell.”

“It was blonde last year. You even permed it.”

“My mom made me do that.”

Myungsoo would’ve laughed at them if he didn’t feel so guilty. “He looks more like that girl from Late Autumn.”

Sungyeol snorted into his water bottle. “Ahem,” he said, wiping the water off his face, “I think you mean our Sungjongie darling here.” He narrowly avoided a swing at his nose.

“He meant the coat!”

Sunggyu’s shoulders were hunched as he approached them on the path. Myungsoo expected him to look up and say something, to make some kind of eye contact with him, but Sunggyu only shoved his hands lower in his pockets. He looked apologetic, like he was embarrassed to be walking past them. He didn’t acknowledge them, even though Sungyeol and Sungjong were staring blatantly at his face. Myungsoo, on the contrary, kept his eyes trained on his boots. He watched those boots walk to the other end of the park. 

“I’m going to go over my notes before my next class, so I have to leave early,” he said suddenly. “I’ll catch you guys on Monday or on the weekend or something.” He picked up his backpack and shrugged it on, taking out the last chicken salad sandwich and crushing it in his hand. The whole-wheat bread sunk easily under his fingers.

Sungjong was staring at him funny again, his eyes narrowed, so Myungsoo waved good-bye to his friends and walked towards the front gates, toward the Japanese maples, and on the way out, he threw the sandwich into the garbage can.

Sorry. I’ll make it up to you somehow.

Myungsoo kicked at the apartment door to keep it open while he took the trash out. The sound of the TV echoed in the hallway—he had been sprawled across the couch earlier watching the Medieval Europe: An Age of Superstition documentary, listening to the narrator drone on about early reports of a wild man from under the sea. A fisherman apparently caught the unsuspecting creature in a net and reeled him aboard. Myungsoo wondered if wild men from the skies existed.

He heard a shuffling noise and looked up. “Sunggyu?” Not that he even needed to ask. Myungsoo could immediately tell by his face, but Sunggyu’s appearance still came as a shock—not just scruffy hair and pasty skin but the puffy eyes, the twisted grimace. This wasn’t the Sunggyu he had hung out with a week ago. Why didn’t he look up in the park and notice earlier? 

Sunggyu stared at him, frozen in the process of unlocking his door. His face looked strangled.

Where have I seen this before, Myungsoo wondered. Then he remembered. Sunggyu once stumbled home in the middle of the night from a weekend bar gig in studded black skinny jeans, guitar strapped to his back, hair rumpled. He seemed sick, like he couldn’t quite get enough blood to circulate. Myungsoo had been taking out the trash then too. He wanted to open his mouth and ask what happened, but Sunggyu only stared back balefully through rings of dark kohl before slamming the door. The doorknob had rattled in its socket. 

Myungsoo knew he had always been a shy guy. When he wasn’t doing bar gigs, he was holed up in his apartment playing music and singing his heart out into the early hours of the morning (and getting yelled at by the neighbours)—which explained his persistently pale skin and his dark eye bags—but he looked like he had aged a few years in the span of seven days, not just one since his birthday. Myungsoo had even brought him chocolate cake last week.

He opened the door open wider. The narrator’s TV voice filling the silence had never been more comforting. “Sunggyu, are you okay?”

Sunggyu’s eyes flickered, like he was thinking about how to answer. He sniffled.

Myungsoo set the trash bag down and toed it back into his apartment. There were more pressing matters at hand. This couldn’t have been because he didn’t bring the sandwich, right? 

“I’m here if you need anything,” he said hesitantly. 

That was how he coaxed Sunggyu into his apartment. After he said that, Myungsoo stood there at the door, keeping his face as composed as possible. It seemed like an entire minute passed in that hallway, the narrator’s voice still buzzing in the background, until Sunggyu looked down at the floor and stepped into the apartment. 

He locked the door behind him. Then he shed his trench coat, letting it drop into a puddle on the floor, and he gingerly tugged his graphic t-shirt off. They were both guys, but the tips of Myungsoo’s ears still burned. It was strange to see him like this. Sunggyu’s chest was thin, like a dented white panel. Smooth with a little hollow in between his pectoral muscles. He was always built bigger and thicker than Myungsoo, but now, he looked skinnier than ever. 

Then Sunggyu turned around.

Large golden feathers matted with blood lined the nubs swelling up out of his back. His skin was stretched over the lumps sickeningly tight, as though the slightest movement could snap it. It was stretched so thin that Myungsoo could see everything through it—the knobby joints, the folded layers of broad primary feathers, bulging underneath the delicate membrane of Sunggyu’s skin.

“How did this happen?” he managed to ask.

“I don’t—I don’t really know.” He opened his mouth and closed it again, playing anxiously with his nails. Then he rubbed his eye and glanced down. “I think I’m creeping you out. Sorry.”

“It’s…just kind of unexpected. You’re not.”

He crumpled his bloodied shirt into a ball and remained quiet. 

"You're not, okay,” he said. "If you were, I wouldn't be friends with you."

Sunggyu smiled a little but continued to stare down at his hands. 

"Do you want to tell me how it happened?"

“I mean…it was a couple days ago. My back,” and he gestured to his shoulder blades, “itched and ached a lot. It kind of hurt, but it just mostly itched. So I ended up scratching it. But I didn’t think it was anything bad and ignored it until I took a shower yesterday and blood was flowing into the drain. And then I looked in the mirror and turned around, and…that was it.” He blinked hard and stared at the ground, and then he turned his face away so that Myungsoo couldn’t see him. “I wanted to tell you something. I’m no—I’m not mad about,” hiccup, “the sandwich thing. It’s not really a big deal anyway.” He sniffled again, and he buried his face into his knees and his shoulders started to shake. “I don’t—I don’t even ing know why I’m telling you this.” He sounded bitter and upset with himself.

“Hey, wait,” Myungsoo said gently, hoping he sounded soothing and more confident than he felt. At least, he thought, Sunggyu wasn’t mad about lunch. “First of all, I’m still sorry about lunch, I really am. But look at me. Everything will be okay.” To be honest, he wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but he went on. “I think we should clean them, run the under water. Then you can think about what to do. If you want, I can make you some food anyways. It was my fault for forgetting.” 

He wrapped a spare towel around Sunggyu and pulled him away from the front door. He guided him to the shower, his warm hands resting in the dips of Sunggyu’s shoulders.

“Do you want to go see a doctor?”

"No!” Sunggyu shouted, which was surprising. Sunggyu had never so much as even raised his voice in a single conversation with Myungsoo. He tore away from Myungsoo’s hands and stared at him, his mouth slightly open, as if he was even shocked with his own reaction. “No…I mean, I don’t think it would be a good idea.”

Myungsoo put his hands up and backed away. "Okay, we can do whatever you'd like. I'll go find you an extra shirt. Just use the towel already in there if you need it."

Sunggyu turned away and shut the door while Myungsoo set off to find some spare clothing. After digging up an old t-shirt and some relatively unwrinkled jeans (he really needed to do his laundry soon), he heard a loud crash from the direction of the bathroom. He ran into the bathroom and flung the door open.

Sunggyu had inadvertently knocked over all of his products on the counter, but that was the least of his Myungsoo's worries. Sunggyu was heaving over the sink, leaning on the edge with his elbows and his hands gripping the bowl.

And suddenly, he began to cry all over again, shaking as the water flushed the contents of his stomach down the drain, pink trails sliding down the sides of the sink. The bathroom smelled sour. He blinked hard and cupped his hands over his face, in breaths between his fingers. "Myungsoo, I don't think I should've come to you. I'm j-just so…I'm so ed up." His teeth chattered. "I'm r-really," hiccup, "s-sorry."

"It's okay. Everything's okay. Shhh." 

Myungsoo helped him into the tub, clothes and all, and adjusted the temperature knobs before letting the warm water run. He lathered his hands up with white soap and sat on the tub's edge, rubbing circles into Sunggyu's back, being careful not to touch the afflicted areas. He listened to Sunggyu's fluttering breaths and tried to wash away everything—the dried blood, the ghastly paleness, the golden feathers—if only they could melt away with the water. If only he could wash away the pain.

"It's okay," he said as he toweled off Sunggyu's hair. "It's okay." 

It became a soothing mantra to gloss over the problems. It's okay; you're not ed up. It's okay; you're not puking blood. It's okay; you're not growing wings, and you're here with me. He starte to pat down Sunggyu’s shoulders. If he really thought about it, it was strange. He had never been so close to Sunggyu before. Sunggyu was exclusive. Sunggyu never showed much. The most he’d done for Myungsoo was sing, play, eat, and occasionally complain about school.

Sunggyu lived on the edge of a cloud, and there was no way to reach him except for now. Myungsoo liked the whole situation somehow, even if a part of him still felt guilty about the sandwich incident and another part felt empathy and hurt for Sunggyu. Bu Sunggyu had never opened up to him like this before, and he had always wanted to know him better.

He carefully wiped around the tender feathers. "Hey,” he said, striking up his courage. His mouth felt as dry as sawdust. ”You know, you can sleep on my bed. It's a queen size anyways." 

What would he say? Would he be disgusted?

Sunggyu looked at him blankly, his eyes still swollen. He didn’t say anything, but when he finished changing into Myungsoo’s clothes and slipped under the covers next to him on his stomach, Myungsoo felt his heart soar a little. 

“Thank you.”

Myungsoo pretended he was asleep and didn’t hear, but he breathed a sigh of relief into his pillow.

The next morning, the wings came. 

Myungsoo could never have described what he saw in that moment quite as clearly as it appeared in his vision. He remembered seeing Sunggyu's mouth open in a bloodcurdling howl and feeling Sunggyu's fingers dig into his hand like it was the only thing keeping him alive, and he remembered watching in slack-jawed awe as his skin split. It ripped like wet paper. The joints popped out first with fleshy squelches, and with them the rest of the folded up wings, snapping out to full mast. Myungsoo had to squeeze his eyes shut when the blood flecks hit his face, warm and wet.

They stayed like that for a while—Myungsoo sitting upright with their hands in his lap while Sunggyu lay on his side, his wings drooping almost lazily over the sheets. Myungsoo could almost believe Sunggyu was his boyfriend, idling on the bed. Then he would go and make Belgian waffles as a surprise for when Sunggyu actually got up. It had always been something he wanted to do ever since he saw his face light up over the birthday cake. Belgian waffles on Saturday morning and chocolate cake in the evening. Chicken for lunch, maybe.

"Thank you again," Sunggyu murmured after a long silence, startling Myungsoo from his daydreaming.

He smiled even though Sunggyu's eyes were closed. "You're welcome." He interlaced their fingers tighter. "You know, your wings are golden.”

"I know.”

"That’s not a colour you can find in nature, isn’t it?” 

Even matted with drying blood, they glowed a luminous autumn-gold, and each time they moved, the flight feathers shimmered like fish scales over the curves of slender muscle and bone. 

Sunggyu laughed hollowly. “I guess not.” He paused. “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah, go ahead, I’m listening.”

"I had a dream, you know, before all of this happened. I dreamed that I was going die. I was playing guitar until my fingers bled, and I was singing until my voice gave out."

"Yeah." 

"I think I kind of wanted to die." He swallowed. “I felt like everything I did just fell flat. Nothing. I played my soul out on guitar, but I didn’t play it like I wanted to. I was so tired every day. Sometimes, I’d just crawl into my bed and lie there for the entire day, unable to sleep. I’d only eat when you came over. I just wanted everything to end. And I know that people are always saying that suicide is so selfish and stupid, but at that point, you reach a place where there isn’t really anything else and you stop caring. The feeling that you’ve got nothing left for you here. You don’t feel real. You feel like nothing can help you, not even music. I wanted to get away from everything and nothing.

“I dreamed that I had wings, Myungsoo. Huge and golden. Those dreams are the best I’d felt in forever because I actually felt like I was alive. It wasn’t really suicide if I was just flying away.”

Then he stopped talking. He didn't say anything for a long time, even while Myungsoo was rinsing off his back in the tub, gently guiding the showerhead over Sunggyu's feathers and watching the blood float into the drain. In the din of the shower, he admired the arch of Sunggyu's back and the tight line of his folded wings. Then he saw the angry red skin, the raw cracks on his shoulder blades, and frowned. 

After the shower, he dabbed antiseptic onto the split skin, eliciting a flinch. "Sorry," he said.

"It’s okay." Then Sunggyu turned around and kissed him. 

It was quick and nervous and a bit messily aimed, but Myungsoo got the message just fine. Somehow, he knew he had been waiting for this for a very long time. He screwed the cap back onto the antiseptic bottle and left the cotton ball on the floor to lean forward and grab Sunggyu's face for a proper kiss. He'd clean up later.

As Myungsoo was cooking blueberry pancakes for dinner, he asked, "Sunggyu, what are you going to do about your wings?"

Sunggyu was dressed in one of Myungsoo's old white T-shirts with holes cut in the back for his wings, arbitrarily flipping through an outdated technology and science magazine. Myungsoo thought he looked nice. And a lot less tired than yesterday night, although still a bit frail. "Hmm?" 

"What are you going to do with your life now that you've got wings?" 

"Learn to fly.”

He laughed a little at that. "I meant long-term. Are you ever going to go to the hospital or something to get it checked out?" Myungsoo asked. He tipped the batter into the pan and watched it sizzle golden-brown. "You can't just go around with them and not have anyone notice."

Sunggyu turned the page to the article on aerodynamics. "I hate hospitals.”

“What about going to school? How will you do that?”

“That doesn’t really matter,” he said. Then he looked over Myungsoo's shoulder. "Those smell really good. I’ve never had blueberry pancakes for dinner before.”

It sounded like he was trying to act as if everything was normal. Fine. Myungsoo would try too. 

"There's a first for everything. Flying, too," Myungsoo said, sliding the pancakes onto a plate and handing it to him. "I'll make you French toast next time."

Sunggyu just smiled in response and took the pancakes back to the table.

"What? Do you not like French toast or something?" No answer. "Kim Sunggyu! You moron! You're going to use up all of my maple syrup!"

After a dinner of drowned, syrupy pancakes, courtesy of Sunggyu, they settled down and watched a stupid slapstick comedy movie that Myungsoo had rented a couple days ago. Halfway through the movie, Sunggyu suddenly spoke up. “Hey,” he said through a mouthful of buttered popcorn, his voice vibrating against Myungsoo’s knee, “do you want to go the park?” He was lying across the couch, his head nestled comfortably on Myungsoo’s lap. He didn’t want to sit back and put pressure on his wings yet; his skin was still tender and scabbing over.

Myungsoo absently played with his hair without taking his eyes off the screen. The main character had somehow managed to get himself covered in ramyun noodles. “Now?”

“Well, we can just watch the movie if you want.”

“No, wait, what?”

Sunggyu shifted and placed the popcorn bowl back on the coffee table. “I wanted to go with you,” he said. “It’s okay though. We don’t need to go.”

“What time is it?”

“Around 12:30. Forget it—“

“No, it’ll be a nighttime adventure! Let’s go,” Myungsoo grinned. 

He pushed Sunggyu’s head off of his lap and got up from the couch, struggling with his socks. He kicked on his sneakers and saw his guitar case sitting in the corner. (He would never tell Sunggyu that the reason why he took up guitar was because he wanted to be able to play alongside him one day. He had suffered through a long, grueling list of video tutorials and saved up a lot of money for the guitar.) “Hey. Do you want to play guitar?”

“You can play. I’ll sing for you this time,” Sunggyu said, and when Myungsoo had slung the guitar case over his shoulder, they held hands and headed towards the park. Myungsoo’s hands were warm. Sunggyu’s were frighteningly cold, so he gripped them to warm them up. At 1 am in the morning, no one could see their faces properly. They were free to do whatever they wanted.

Sunggyu wore his trench coat again. He had been wearing it earlier on in the day to hide the lumps on his back, and now he was wearing it again to hide his full-grown wings. Myungsoo could see the ridges if he looked closely, but otherwise Sunggyu had his wings tucked in so tightly that they couldn’t be seen.

They walked past the Japanese maples by the front gate, dark red outlined in yellow from the lamplight. They walked past the tulips and the wooden benches where Myungsoo had his lunch earlier—he didn’t forget to apologize again about forgetting his lunch, but Sunggyu waved it off. They walked all the way to the center of the park and found an empty path and sat down on the lone bench.

While Sunggyu swung his legs back and forth, scraping his boots on the ground, Myungsoo flicked open the case clasps and pulled out his guitar. He sat on the edge of his side of the bench and gave the guitar strings a couple experimental strums to check the tuning. He gave Sunggyu a questioning glance, since Sunggyu was the guitar expert here. “Does it sound okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. The tuning’s fine.”

Sunggyu opened his mouth and began to sing. His voice was a little scratchy at first, but after a few notes, it gained strength and confidence. 

Myungsoo found himself scrambling to listen to the key and played simple chords in the background, bobbing his head along to the rhythm. It was relatively fast-paced with a catchy, uplifting hook for the chorus—“Baby just can’t let you go.” Odd choice for a song. Hadn’t Sunggyu always been into metal or sad ballads?

And then as soon as it had started, the song was over. Like a candle, blown out. Myungsoo wobbled on the ending and finished a half-beat too late, but Sunggyu clapped anyways.

“That was really good,” Myungsoo said, smiling in spite of himself. “You have a really nice singing voice.”

“You were pretty good yourself. Where did you learn guitar? I never knew you could play.”

“I taught myself,” he laughed. “It was really hard.”

“Video tutorials online?” Sunggyu sounded amused.

“Yeah.”

“They never really worked for me,” he remarked. Then Myungsoo leaned over from his side of the bench to kiss him. They ended up clacking their teeth together, but that was alright. Playing guitar on a bench in an empty park at midnight with Sunggyu’s singing for accompaniment was good enough. The Saturday night music club. It’d be even nicer if they had more meetings.

Sungjong called later that night after Myungsoo had just finished changing the bloodstained sheets. “Me, Sungyeol, Hoya, Dongwoo, and Woohyun are having a movie marathon at my apartment. My roommate’s gone. Everyone’s crashing, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to. Do you want to come?” he asked, his voice fuzzy over the phone. In the background, Myungsoo could hear Dongwoo’s signature laughing and Woohyun shouting something that sounded suspiciously like, “No! You have to watch The Little Mermaid first so we can all sing ‘Under the Sea'!” Hoya was hissing at them all to shut up (“Sungjong’s on the phone, guys!”).

“This late?” Myungsoo asked. “But it’s 1:20 right now.” He didn’t mention that he had gone out on a park date with Sunggyu at 12:30. His friends didn’t need to know that. 

“I know, but it’s been a while since we last had one because every time someone wanted to do it, one of us was busy. It’s not as fun when everyone’s not there. It’d be awesome if you could come,” Sungjong said hopefully. A tinny "Under the Sea!” came over the phone receiver, followed by, “No! We are definitely watching Mulan!”

Myungsoo snuck a glance at his bedroom. Sunggyu was sprawled across the mattress, his feet dangling off the edges of the bed and his massive golden wings fanned out across his arms, and stray feathers lay scattered all over the ground and the sheets. Myungsoo walked back into the living room and lowered his voice. “Sungjong, I don’t know if I can do it,” he said. “I’m kind of occupied right now.”

“How could you possibly be busy at 1 in the morning? Please don’t tell me you’re doing homework.” 

“I’m with Sunggyu.”

“You’re with Kim Sunggyu at 1 in the morning?”

“Is there anything wrong with that?”

“I just…how did that even happen?”

“It’s a long story.” Myungsoo could hear something shift in his room. Sunggyu was now sitting up, watching him on the phone. 

“Care to enlighten us?” He sounded upset.

“I told you, it’s a long story. And I shouldn’t really be talking about it. I don’t think Sunggyu would appreciate it if I did. But I promise I'll come next time."

“Well, fine.” The ruckus in the background had calmed down—definitely a bad sign. “You go hang out with Kim Sunggyu and eat birthday cake or something. We’ll just watch movies without you.”

“His birthday was last week. Wait, Sungjong, please don’t be like this—“

Beep beep beep.

Sungjong had hung up on him.

“You should’ve gone with your friends,” Sunggyu said, his voice slightly muffled by the pillow. He lay on his stomach next to Myungsoo on his bed, his wings now folded against his back. “You’ve been taking care of me long enough. They sounded like they really wanted you there.”

“No, they’ll get over it. I’m not leaving you when you’re like this.” Myungsoo reached out a hand and settled it on Sunggyu’s back, right over his wings. He had dabbed more antiseptic before bed, and the skin around the base was almost entirely scabbed over without any infection in sight. That was definitely a good sign. In the next couple days, Sunggyu could probably even try flapping his wings.

“Myungsoo, what exactly are we?” he asked suddenly. “Are we dating?”

“Well…we never asked each other out. But I’d say we are,” Myungsoo said, "unless you don't think so."

“Then I’m a terrible boyfriend.”

“Sunggyu, you're not. Don’t beat yourself up over everything.”

“Would I be a terrible boyfriend if I broke up with you right now?”

“Is that supposed to be a joke?”

Sunggyu laughed breathlessly into the pillow. “I don’t know.”

The next day, Myungsoo woke up to an empty bed with a single feather on Sunggyu’s pillow. He picked it up—it was one of his longer primary feathers, pale gold in the morning sun and stiff to the touch. He pushed away the sheets and got out of bed, and something felt very sick in his chest when he realized that there were a few more feathers on the ground, smaller ones this time, leading to the balcony.

When he reached the railing of the balcony, Myungsoo didn’t know whether to look up or down.

4 months later, this finally gets posted! this was written for the Infinite minibang on LJ (the comm 'dashidorawa'), and I had to wait until they revealed the writers today so I could post it somewhere else. but yay! I'm glad it's done. it definitely changed a lot from when I first created the Foreword for this story. or from when I first wrote it...two years ago! back then, it wasn't the Infinite fandom hahaha. and I squeezed it back down into a one-shot..I omitted a couple parts for that.

thank you guys so much for subscribing and being patient! I hope you enjoy. again, thank you. I apologize for being incredibly late. 

but you guys are awesome. thanks for reading. <3