“Example is more powerful than precept„

“Aish! Yoboseyo?” I shout at my phone while avoiding a crazy taxi that is heading my way at the speed of light.

“D.O. yah…” The hair at the back of my neck stand up at the cheerful greeting. I swear this day is getting worse and worse by the second.

“WHAT?!” I practically scream, snootily, at the guy.

“D.O. yah, help me out!” Of course that’s what it’s all about.

It’s not like Baekhyun ever calls to say something good, like ‘we have the day off’, or ‘we’re getting a raise’.

No…

With him, it’s always, ‘there’s an emergency’ and ‘help me, D.O. yah’. Like I’m his freaking mother, or something.

“Yeah… Ok. That’s not happening.” I need new friends.

Suddenly, a bright red traffic light flashes before my eyes and I hit the motorbike’s breaks with all my might. An old woman who is currently crossing the road glares at me and perhaps she has a good reason to, since I almost ran her over. However, that definitely doesn’t stop me from glaring back at her though my helmet.

“I’m in big trouble, D.O. yah! Save me!” Baekhyun continues whining through the phone.

“I’m not taking your matchmaking list, so that you can go on a date again. Forget it!” I hate my stupid job as it is, I don’t want to work extra time. Especially, when the reason is that Baekhyun’s boyfriend is in town and they want to meet up and be all cuddly and heaven-knows-what with each other.

“I only have one couple left for the day. And Tao said he prepared a surprise for me back at the apartment, so I really, really want to go. I’m going crazy, waiting. Please, D.O. yah!” Actually, I’m the one going crazy, with this stupid motorbike and this stupid, whiny friend.

What sins have I committed in a previous lifetime to end up in this situation?

Working as a Love God for 1,600,000 won a month, going around modern day Seoul with a bow and a quiver full of magic arrows and on top of all that, being partners with the most irresponsible Cupid in the entire love industry.

Because, according to some psychic, up there, I was meant to be a Love God.

It’s ridiculous no matter how you see it.

I don’t even like love.

Sighing, I turn my attention to the phone call.

“I’m in the middle of possibly the worst traffic jam of the century and I’m running late for a fateful meeting scheduled to happen in…” I briefly look at my watch, “fifteen minutes. So you will excuse me if I don’t care one bit about your love life at the moment.”

I try to pass a silver Polo to make the next turn left, but the driver snidely moves his car a little to the left, blocking my way completely. And as I am about to get off my bike and punch the living daylights out of this guy, Baekhyun speaks again, more calmly, this time.

“What if I tell you, you’ll never have to use this motorbike ever again?” He says and I can actually hear him smirking.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I grumble, hitting the horn a couple of times to alert the driver in front of me who is, apparently, blind, that the traffic light has turned green again.

“You know how my Tao is a badass Time Lord, right?” I snort at my friend’s proud tone. The Huang Zitao I know, might be a Time Lord of sorts, carrying an enchanted hourglass and all, but magic skills aside, he is an oversensitive baby with tastes way too expensive to cover with a 1,600,000 won salary.

“Sorry if this sounds kind of rude, but I simply don’t see how this guy classifies as ‘badass’.”  I voice my thoughts.

“Shut up. I didn’t ask for your opinion.” Baekhyun gets defensive as usual. “Anyway,” He recovers quickly. “My badass Time Lord boyfriend happens to know a couple of people from abroad and he might, or might not have obtained a very rare flying carpet.”

My eyebrows immediately shoot up at this.

“Interesting.” I nod. “Go on.”

Suppressing his laughter, Baekhyun explains about the brand new flying carpet which is completely useless to his boyfriend, because, hello, he is a Time Lord and therefore doesn’t need to worry about being late for anything.

Now, I’m not usually an easy person to manipulate. Please remember that.

“Ok. I’ll do it.” I reply at the receiver. “Just send me your matchmaking list for today. It’s the last couple, right?”

Baekhyun takes a moment to squeal into my ear in delight, before confirming that it really was supposed to be his last couple of the day.

“It’s a same-gender couple, in fact.” He adds absent-mindedly, as I finally reach my destination.

“Great.” I comment, sarcastically. “I can’t wait to make them fall for each other, so they can spend the rest of their lives, either hiding their feelings from the world, or facing society’s wrath.”

Seriously, I don’t understand love.

It’s too hard. Why do people keep begging the Love Gods, to give them someone to love, when it’s always so hard?

I mean, these two guys are probably going to face hell for being gay, yet they still made a wish and asked for love.

Because, naturally, Love Gods work upon command.

Like Santa, our Headquarters receive ‘love wishes’ and when the right time comes, we are given a list with the people who made a wish and we go all around the globe, shooting magic arrows and making them fall in love.

However, funny thing, unlike Santa, Cupids don’t aim arrows only at good people.

Naughty or nice, you still fall in love.

It’s a stupid job…

“Don’t be so pessimistic D.O. yah. You’re a Cupid for goodness’ sake, don’t you have a heart? Can’t you believe in the power of love for once? Is it really so hard?!” As expected, Baekhyun is going ballistic again, over my unconventional dislike towards love.

“Don’t cross me Byun Baekhyun, cause I can still delete your matchmaking list from my phone and let you take care of your last couple yourself.” Once upon a time, I used to explain my theory about love to my friend. He never listened to me, though, and so, these days, I resort to petty threats to resolve our arguments.

“Fine.” He spits at me. “Believe whatever you want. Just don’t poison the soon-to-be couple’s  beautiful love with your misery.”

Typical Baekhyun.

Now that’s a guy meant to be a Love God.

“Well, I gotta go now. I still have a couple of my own to match make, before I get down to yours.” I barely hear my friend bid me goodbye cheekily, before I put the cell phone in my pocket and walk inside an old building, which smells something between overcooked vegetables and mould. 

A lady dressed in a pinkish uniform greets me from a counter near the entrance and I smile at her as politely as I can, after spending forty five seconds in the packed roads of Seoul, riding a tiny motorbike.

“Can I help you?” She asks and I identify her as a nurse.

I’m currently standing inside a nursing home, a place I hoped I wouldn’t have to visit for at least fifty more years.

“I’m looking for a lady called…” I pull out my phone and check my list briefly. “Kang Eunmi.” I read aloud.

The nurse grins widely at me. “You’re here for Eunmi sshi? That’s great! She’s been so lonely lately…”

I suppress a frown.

What’s so great about making old people fall in love and suffer through heartache?

I don’t understand love…

“Ok.” I agree hesitantly and she leads me in a room which looks a lot like a normal living room, only, it’s full of old people.

“She’s over there, next to the window. The sweet-looking grandma with the book.” The nurse points at an indeed sweet-looking elderly lady.

“And can you also tell me who Park Chungho is?” I ask, already inspecting the other people in the nursing home.

“Chungho sshi? Oh, he’s our cook.” She replies, making me turn around and face her shocked.

“Cook? So he’s like… a young man?” I blink at her confused.

“I’d say… about fifty.” She smiles, satisfied of her answer.

I swear there’s nothing good about this day. Not only do I have an elderly couple to match make, but it’s also a couple with a huge .

And after that a gay couple.

That means I’ll be responsible for two complicated love stories today.

Oh joy!

Why do those people even ask for love?

What's so special about being in love anyway?

When I finally manage to push the annoyance out my system, the nurse is already gone.

I hide behind a big bookcase and take out my bow from the back pack I’m carrying. My wings are itching to come out as well, but I push them back inside.

Aish, this pair of useless fellows that can’t even fly properly, forcing me to go around in a motorbike!

Ten minutes later, a bold man, with hands full of tattoos, comes in with a cart full of trays.

This must be him.

As if knowing that it is time to act, my wings pop out, dragging me upwards only a few inches, cause that’s the best they can do.

I fish an arrow from inside my back pack and place it on the bow.

The cook with the tattoos moves first towards the future object of his affections and looks at his cart for a special tray.

That’s when I take my chance and shoot the arrow.

It hits him straight in the spine, but Park Chunho sshi doesn’t even flinch. He only grabs a tray and looks up at Eunmi sshi to give it to her.

And so it happens.

The usual process.

He blinks and blushes and he seems dumbfounded, but then recovers from the initial shock that my arrow caused and speaks up. He tells Eunmi sshi something about looking very pretty today and asks her what’s the name of the book she’s reading.

However, it’s not time for me to celebrate yet.

I pick a second arrow and aim it at the woman. The arrow flies across the room and finds its target as well.

Eunmi sshi smiles back at the cook and offers to read him a poem (it’s a poem collection that she’s reading) after he finishes serving the food.

That’s it.

Done.

Mission accomplished.

Now, they can go struggle with their love all on their own.

I blindly walk out of the nursing home, feeling like the smell of overcooked vegetables and mould is rubbing off on my clothes.

I mount my motorbike and check my phone, where a message is waiting for me, containing only two names, a place and a time.

“Kim Jongin, Lee Taemin. 277-79 Yeoksam Station, apartment 11-D. 16:30.” I read out loud.

Badass Zitao’s flying carpet better be worth this.

It is another forty minutes to Yeoksam and I’d be lying if I said they go by easily.

The good news is that this building doesn’t smell of mould and overcooked vegetables. The bad, that it seems way too crowded for my own liking.

I walk past a group of highschoolers who are discussing vividly about choreographies and street performances and I kind of miss my highschool years.

Not that it has been too long, or that I had a particularly fun time being a student.

But, at least back then I didn’t need to work as a Love God, serving a purpose I don’t even understand.

The elevator rings as I reach the eleventh floor and I quickly shake my head. I need to focus. This place is full of teenagers and I cannot afford being caught with my bow and wings out by one of them.

The second room on my right, with an English D pasted on its door doesn’t emit the booming music that the rest of the rooms do and for that I am thankful.

Loud music makes my wings shake and sometimes I can’t even fly steadily.  Once, when I was matchmaking a couple of rock band singers, my wings shook so bad that I missed the target and ended up shooting an amplifier and ruining the whole gig. Now imagine that sort of embarrassment while I’m working on Baekhyun’s couple.

I shudder at the thought and taking a deep breath, I push the door of the dance room, slightly to peak in.

Everything is pretty standard for a dance practice room. A huge mirror and a wooden floor, a couple of seats in a corner and a stereo in another.

There are two boys there, as expected.

The one has short auburn hair, milky white skin and delicate characteristics. He looks something between a prince from a fairytale and a highschool girl.

A strange combination, admittedly.

I can’t see the second guy very well, because he’s kneeling down, tying his shoelaces, or something like that, but I soon hear his voice.

“Taemin hyung, let’s change the song.” He says in a soft voice which sounds a bit like he has a cold.

“Ok, let me do it.” The pretty dancer, with the auburn hair, nods and walks over to the stereo to fiddle with his ipod.

While both guys are busy doing one thing or another, I slide inside the dance room and quickly sit on the floor right behind a chair full of smelly clothes. I have hidden in better spots in my life, but this will have to do for the moment. 

Luckily I had already prepared my bow before coming in, since I didn’t want to cause a commotion by opening my bag inside a room where except for my sorry there were only the two people I was supposed to match make.

I draw out an arrow carefully, making sure no one noticed me and put it on my bow.

Who should I start with?

The pretty guy seems really busy choosing a song, so I guess I can let the other one go first, before he finishes tying his laces and decides to look around the room and sees me.

With that thought in mind, I relax and let my wings come out. 

Pushing the disturbing thoughts out, I fly a couple of inches off the floor and aim at the guy looking towards the mirror wall and working on his shoelaces.

The arrow flashes from my hand and hits him in the shoulder, successfully.

Despite my usually cool self I feel like doing a happy dance on air, right now, because this is proving easier than I thought.

I take out the second arrow and get ready to hit the second target.

Yet before I get a chance to do so, the shoelaces guy (what was it again? Jongho? Jungshin?) straightens up abruptly and looks at the mirror.

And by ‘mirror’, I mean that thing which covers the entire wall opposite of the door and reflects everything that stands across it.

And by ‘everything’, I mean myself. Me.

Me with my bow and my magic arrow and my wings out. Me floating, in the air, looking like a deer caught in the headlights and feeling pretty much the same.

To my defense, the shoelace guy doesn’t seem to be in a much better shape.

His mouth, a rather attractive mouth by the way, is gaping at me and his eyes are, maybe not as wide as mine, but still wide enough. A small towel that had been sitting on top of his shoulder falls to the floor, almost in slow motion, as we stare at each other.

Now, according to the handbook for Love Gods, if a human happens to see the Love God’s true form (that means wings included), all you have to do is shoot him with a second arrow and he’ll forget everything.

How fortunate it is, then, that I have already an arrow prepared in my bow!

I pat myself in the back encouragingly.

It’s gonna be alright.

 I aim the arrow towards the guy who at the moment seems terrified and get ready to fix my mistake.

And then the unthinkable happens.

Well, it’s not exactly ‘unthinkable’ but let me tell you, it’s pretty unexpected.

The other guy, the pretty-like-a-prince-or-a-highschool-girl one, decides at this exact moment to turn on the music.

And because my stupid wings are like that, they suddenly stop working and just as I shoot the arrow, I feel myself landing on the floor, still standing, thankfully, yet quite disheveled.

Well, the next part, I don’t quite see.

Instead, I feel part of what happens and guess the rest.

If my guesses are correct, the arrow that I shot when my wings stopped working missed its target and came into contact with the mirror wall, which, then, deflected the arrow and forced it to turn around and head straight towards me.

I look down at my chest where the magic arrow slowly begins to fade into dust, like all Cupid’s arrows do when they hit a target.

Then, slowly, I move my head upwards and there he is, the shoelace guy, still seeing me, still dumbfounded and still, surprisingly good-looking.

Wait a second.

Just… wait a second.

Was he this good-looking all along?

“Oh .” I blurt out.

Putting a hand  where the arrow found me, I sense my heart speeding up. Something is blowing up inside of me, making me wanna throw up. Yet, all the same, it’s not a bad feeling. It’s like the overwhelming excitement you get after you’ve run to catch the bus and got on, in the last minute.

Worn out, but happy.

It's so different from the things I've experienced in my life so far. Nevertheless, some part of my mind recognizes it. Like seeing baby pictures of yourself after you've grown up. You don't remember being like this, but the image is strangely familiar. 

A foreign, but comfortable feeling.

Yeah...

Yeah.

A/N: Not what you expected I suppose...  But I wanted Kyungsoo to be a temperamental weirdo of a Love God. So there.

Like I've mentioned before, this chapter is for the Fable Me This: 2012 [Writing] Contest! 

Now, I'm not sure if I should make this a two-shot, or do something longer... 

Honestly, I'd love to know what you think. Two-shot, or chaptered fic?

Thanks for reading and supporting this story! :D

PS: Is the font weird? Should I change it?