Lee Chanhee's POV

There was something off about the morning when I stirred in my bed, half asleep with hazy eyes settled on the window across from me. It could've been that it was finally the weekend. Although, I was almost positive that wasn't the case here. There was something else that I couldn't quite seem to grasp.

But it was obvious; it was there. 

Except, what was it?

I dragged my body over to the window, which was opened, strangely enough, letting the breeze silently sweep the curtains. 

I shrugged, figuring that I had maybe forgotten to close it the night before, but that didn't make much sense either.

I had never slid it open to begin with.

Then, just as I reached up to pull the window closed, I saw it. I saw the feeling that kept me unstable. I saw why.

Oddly enough, it was a bundle of pale feathers, no, not a bundle. They were composed to shape a wing. Two, to be exact. With a strange boy in between.

But he contrasted the purity of the wings he carried. Streaks of crimson harshly painted his buttoned up shirt where his heart laid, except trailing up the center of the cloth, a few of the studs were missing. And he looked... almost dead. The only thing that proved that theory wrong was the slanted eyes that were staring down at me, nearly menacingly.

I parted my lips to speak, but before I had a chance to say anything, he had already crouched down to watch me at eye level, causing me to withdraw further back into my room in awe.

His lips curved into a grin in an instant.

"Lee Chanhee. Am I right?" His soft voice infiltrated the silence, sending shivers down my spine.

How in the world did he know?

"Don't worry, Chanhee. I'm not going to eat you."

That only made me stiffen more.

"Don't be like that." He slightly pouted, turning to his side while shifting the feathers that were poking out from his backside, "You see these? You see them on angels, right? Are angels harmful?"

I gave a tedious shrug.

"You're more stupid than I thought." He said with a shy laugh, "But I'll just explain while you get more comfortable with my presence."

He let his feet dangle as he seated himself on the window sill, letting only a few rays of light seep through into my room. "You see, I'm a Cupid. Yeah, those matchmakers that everyone assumed to be fake." He said, "But we're not. We're real."

He fixed his gaze on me to make sure I was paying attention to the words he said other than the stains smeared on his shirt.

I quietly nodded at his words to let him continue.

"Our jobs are simple. We're each assigned to an individual who is supposedly lonely. And what we do is..." His voice trailed as he pulled something out from his back pocket, letting it gleam under the little sunlight that broke through the cracks of his shadow.

The item was familiar, but I had never seen one this up close before, because no one carried them around anymore.

It was an arrow.

But this one was different.

There was a name engraved on it.

My name, to be exact.

What kind of sick joke is this?

The colors in my face were probably drained out at this point.

He found it to be an opportunity to continue, and I didn't have the courage to stop him.

"We find your lovely significant other. But there's a catch." He withdrew the slender rod back into his pocket, "It only works if we shoot it, because it requires the energy of a cupid, so don't think about stealing it and stabbing everyone with the thing."

I couldn't help but let out a soft laugh, at the comment and this whole thing.

His smile expanded and he lowered himself into my room, stepping towards me, "Lee Chanhee. I, your Cupid, who is also named as 'L.Joe', will be your matchmaker starting now."

I watched him, eyeing the curves of his face.

He seemed awfully familiar, but I could also be wrong.

"L.Joe?" I began, "That name sounds kind of foreign. But you don't look all that strange."

"That's because it's the name given to me as a cupid." He said, "I don't remember my real name."

"But... isn't cupid a baby in diapers with an arrow?"

"That's the stereotype."

"I still don't believe you."

He drew another breath, "Then pick someone, anyone, for me to match you with."

"But I don't really have anyone in mind."

We were both silent as we eyed one another, and it seemed to me, that he was telling the truth.

After all, who else could move their wings without doing it manually?

Beats me.

"So you can make anyone fall in love?" I questioned skeptically.

"Anyone."

"Even cupids themselves?"

He stood there, thinking thoroughly about the answer with narrowed eyes fixed onto the ceiling. How hard could that question possibly be?

"Well.." He said after a moment, "Not cupids. You see, our hearts are empty. We have one, but it's unable to actually feel."

His eyes crept onto mine again,

"So try not to fall in love with me, okay?"