He didn’t have a name.

He didn’t have a soul.

He didn’t have a heart.

He wasn’t even human.

He wasn’t supposed to love.

He wasn’t supposed to grieve.

He wasn’t supposed to hate.

He doesn’t even have feelings.

He isn’t sure how he met him.

He isn’t sure why he cares.

He isn’t sure what he feels.

He hasn’t thought about tomorrow.

A new day will dawn, and everybody will stir from their beds, and as they rise, one by one, and life on earth begins to live, he will still be there, waiting aimlessly, watching with his brown orbs, plain and large, but wide a knowing, judgment ringing throughout clear and concise. He will leave soon, and he will leave without him, the one who fills his thoughts day and night, the one who fills his would be heart, his should be soul, and his could be love. Will he notice me when I’m gone? Will he care? Will he miss me, wish for me to come back, return to his side, stay with him forever? He drops his head at the last one, as it strikes him as unlikely, and he knows better than to get his hopes up, only to be disappointed when he isn’t. And then he is laughing, harsh and rough because he reminds himself of why he had came to earth in the first place, his mission, which he had forgotten, finally resurfacing in his mind. He would have to kill him. With his own two hands, as human as they seemed, but so much deadlier, he would have to take the boy, and squeeze the life out of him, take his soul, and finish the job. It doesn’t matter if the boy loved him or not. It doesn’t matter if he loved the boy or not, because in the end, he had to die. It was order, it was law.

He takes one last look over the city of Seoul and he reminisces how he met the boy, remembering how it all began on a snowy February morning…

The sun had just begun to rise, slowly filling the city with its pale pink and orange glow, telling the city’s inhabitants to rise. He had just gotten to earth, and was perched on a building high above, looking down on the humans that had just began to fill the streets. It was cold, and even though the angel couldn’t feel it, he instinctually, wrapped his arms around himself, and then cocooned his wings flat against his body, hoping to stop the cold. Nothing interesting catches Suho’s eyes, and he is bored, unamused, dazed and sleepy.

And then something below moves, and now it has his attention. He looks down to see a man, or a boy, stumbling about the alleyway nearby. There is a drowsiness to his swagger, and it’s disconcerting because Suho hadn’t seen the boy before, hadn’t seen him wander into the alleyway. Even more so, he saw what the boy obviously couldn’t. He saw the man with the gun, the man with the knife, the men with blood on their hands, in their hearts, and on their minds, tainted and spilling crimson red, aching to dye the fresh white snow the same way.

Suho had his mission. It wasn’t his concern, and it was out of his control. He knew he shouldn’t get involved. He couldn’t. But as the unsuspecting boy drew nearer to the evil, Suho couldn’t help but twitch, couldn’t help but tense up with nervous anticipation, hoping the boy would miraculously turn away. And of course, he didn’t.

The boy was almost there, his footsteps almost noticeable to the men, as he stumbled closer and closer…
 

He knew he shouldn’t have. But he did.

Suho acts on something he isn’t conscious of, jumping off the high rise he had been spectating on, and he swoops down, giving his wings a powerful pump, and he grabs the boy, quick as flash, before it was too late, before they were noticed.

Suho drops the boy gently back up on the nearest building he had decided to take cover on, fortunate that the cotton white snow had cushioned a bit of the impact.

The boy gave a moan, and sat up groggily, as if he was unsure who he was, and defiantly unsure of where he was.

“What is going on?” he murmured. He must be drunk, Suho thinks.

“You were almost killed there.” Suho steps closer to get a better look at the victim.

Even if he was half conscious, the boy’s eyes widen in surprise.

“How do you know?”

Suho gives the boy an amused smile, before dryly retorting, “I thought the wings were enough of an explanation.”

The boy finally notices the raven black wings that were so obviously protruding out of Suho’s back.

“Oh.”, is all the boy musters to say.

“Yea.”  Suho squints his eyes a little, getting a better look at the boy. His face was familiar—was this the boy?

“Why did you save me? Are you my guardian or something.”  He slurs, and give a little hiccup.

Suho lets out a loud throaty laugh, and it rings eerily through the quiet morning air.

“Not quite. Try total opposite.” He cracks a dark grin, any playfulness from before gone.

“So you’re… here to…?” The boy’s eyes widen even more, but this time with fear. 

Suho gives a small nod, now sure that this was in fact the boy.

“But why?” the boy asks, voice small now.

“It’s the order of the world, the balance of the universe. Don’t ask me, I don’t decide this , I just do what I’m told.” Suho gives a shrug, almost as if it was no big deal.

There is a small pause before the boy says, “I don’t want to die yet.”

Suho stares at the boy for a minute.

“Well, I’m not going to kill you yet. I’m here to let you know. So you can, you know, take care of whatever business you have to. That kind of jazz. Tie up any loose ends.”

Ironic how the boy he had just saved moments ago was fated yet again to die.

“How long?” his asks, voice neutral.

“2 months.”

The boy nods slowly, as if he was accepting it.

“Well then, I’ll let you ponder that…” Suho turns to leave.

“Wait, where are you going?” The boy calls after him.

“I’ve got to find something to do for 2 months.” Suho calls over his shoulder.

“Aren’t you going to stay with me until then?” The boy responds, confused at how this ordeal was going to work.

“Uh. If you want me to?” Suho stops and turn around now, surprised at this strange turn of events. Who wanted to spend the remainder of their life with their soon to be killer?

The boy gives a small smile. “My name’s Xiumin.”

“Suho.” He replies awkwardly.

-----------------------------------

Had it already been two months? Was it really time to bring everything to end?

Suho digs his nails into his thigh as he thinks about the lost time, the time that had passed so quickly, too quickly.

-----------------------------------

So much could happen in a span of two months, and Suho hadn’t realized it.

Xiumin had never been kissed, never been hugged, never been loved, even at the age of 20. Middle School had been dark as he was bullied and abused, High school an awkward period as he developed into manhood, new feelings emerging, and his childhood was cold and distant, as he was a foster child, never having a single place to call home.

“Be my boyfriend.” Xiumin said one day, as they were sitting up on the same rooftop again, a couple weeks after the first time they had met. It was almost a habit now, and it was their meeting spot.

Suho’s head snaps up, startled to hear such a thing coming from Xiumin, who apparently, never failed to surprise him.

“What?”

 “You heard me. Be my boyfriend. I’ve never had one. I’ve never even been kissed.” He reminds him.

Suho considers this for a few moments.

“You’re going to kill me anyways.” He points out.

The boy had a point. What could happen in two months? It wasn’t even a real relationship. It was a feeble attempt to give his last few moments on earth meaning, purpose.

“Alright. Fine.” He consents.

Xiumin just grins up at him from his place on the snowy cold ground.

-----------------------------------

The first couple of dates had been awkward, conversations dying off quickly, slight brushes and touches bring a color of pink to their cheeks, silences often times uncomfortable, because nobody was saying anything, even though there was so much to be said.

Slowly however, they began to loosen up, and they began to have more to say, more to talk about. Silence came less frequently, and when it did it was welcomed and comfortable. Familiarity set in, and Suho became greedy, as he began to wish things, hope for things. He anticipated Xiumin’s sweet smile, lovable eyes, and small twitches as he waited for the human to wake up from his slumber. He began to love his small quirks, from his adorable habits and obsessions to his strange way of explaining things, flailing and animated as he described his life to Suho.  Even worse, Suho began to long for Xiumin, and he ached to touch his pale skin, kiss his shining pink lips, feel and squeeze his taut muscles, wishing to see his face twisted in pleasure, sweat glistening as lewd words and noises left his mouth. Worst of all though, Suho began to desire the boy’s heart, his feelings, his love, the one thing he shouldn’t have, didn’t deserve to have.

And one night it all came crashing down, when clothes were shed, thrown to the floor in a hurry, lust getting the better of the two of them. All reason left the angel’s mind as pleasure dulled his senses, his reasoning.

“I love you.” Xiumin manage to breathe into Suho’s ears, just after he ed, his hot white fluid covering the two of them as he rode out his .

Suho stiffened a little, the three words that he wasn’t supposed to hear making him realize what he was doing, and the taboo he was committing.

Xiumin seemed to be waiting for Suho to return the words. He had to stay silent. He couldn’t say the words, and he felt helpless, terrified, and powerless as he held in his feelings, and the three little words that would change it all. When Suho didn’t say anything, Xiumin seemed to understand, and he shifted away from the angel, turning onto his side and drifted to sleep.

Seeing the boy fast asleep, Suho managed to whisper, voice strained with emotion he wasn’t supposed to have, and tears that weren’t supposed to be there b in his eyes, “I love you too.”

**

All of these disturbing developments bothered Suho, especially the latter, as the human’s time on earth was drawing to a close.

Would he tell him? Before it was too late?

He already knows it’s to late.

Suho looks to where the sun is now starting rise, signaling for a new day to start. It was time. No more avoiding it.

He stands up wearily, joints stiff from sitting in the same position for too long. Never before had killing a human been so tiring, aching and hurtful. The pain resonated deep, deep in the depths of his mind, his body, and if he had one, soul. It was almost as if he was killing himself, and he knew that once Xiumin was dead, it would be no different anyways. But he was going to do it, do what he was destined for an eternity to do, for better or for worse.

He walks to the edge of the high rise and hangs one foot over the edge, as if he was about to jump, as if he could end his pain with one small leap.

He leans forward a bit more, and now his whole body is falling over the edge, and he’s tumbling straight toward the hard asphalt that lie below, and just before he does hit it, he finally propels himself forward, flying up, wings a little ruffled, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

It takes his breath away a little, numbs the pain a little, and he can’t help but wish he could leave this world, this sad existence.

He thinks he feels a little bit better as he feels the rainy April weather against his skin, cool and dewy.

Burt he knows he’s lying to himself when an actual tear slips down his face, and its no coincidence the skies begin to cry with him as he flies off to where the imminent end will begin.

A/N: Ok. 1. I don't even really ship these two. But here I am, writing this....er....one shot? I don't even know if this counts as a one shot to be honest. 2. I was supposed to kill Suho, and here I am, killing Baozi. Aish. 3. SO CLICHE LOL. ANGEL OF DEATH OH GOSH. I KILL MYSELF. ANYHOW. There ya have it. /coughmonicough/