“Sir, have you seen my wings?”

“Perhaps have you seen my wings?”

“They're big, white and fluffy. They’re very hard to miss, you know.”

 

The more people he asked, the more rude he was treated for his constant questioning. At first the people took their time to stop and hear what the boy had to say. But as soon as they heard his – in their opinion – absurd question, they simply went on with their journey to wherever they were headed. Now the street bustled with people and no one even spared the boy a single glance. He was bumped into, pushed away and now he was even being pulled down to the ground.

 

“I'm so sorry, kid!” the man who had knocked him over said. His voice was deep and rich. “I was trying to get on time to work so I didn’t pay attention and hey – are you all right?” The boy in his arms was silent and refused to meet his eyes. He pulled the both of them into a sitting position and as soon as those doe eyes stared into his, the sounds and sights of the hectic city life faded to the background.

 

“Sir...” The boy was hesitant to ask, but the elder urged him on with his dark but kind eyes. “Have you seen my wings?”

 

The man simply blinked before shaking his head. “No. I'm sorry, but I haven't.”

 

“Oh,” the boy muttered and the man could see a small flicker of hope fade from his eyes. “That's quite all right. Most people haven't.”

 

He was being sincere and it tugged at the man's heartstrings. He helped the boy stand up, but before the younger could turn away, he grabbed his hands. “But… I could help you find them.”

 

And there it was again, that tiny sparkle of hope. But now accompanied by a beaming smile.

 

 

Not really knowing where to start looking, the man took the boy to a small cafe just around the corner. There he introduced himself as Minho and asked the boy for his name.

 

“Taemin,” he answered. “That's what I'm called.”

 

And Minho asked Taemin if he would like to order something, but the boy merely blinked. Food, Minho elaborated. Or something to drink. But he only received a shrug. Sighing, Minho stood up and went up to the counter to order a black coffee for himself and a hot cacao for the boy. With mini marshmallows, he added. He wasn't sure why, somehow it fit the boy.

 

When the machines buzzed while making the drinks, Minho's eyes locked with the various pastries behind the glass. Again he wasn’t sure why, but he found himself asking for the single strawberry cheesecake left. For himself he chose an ordinary muffin. No chocolate chips or glace with sprinkles. No funny business, like the cold business man he claimed himself to be.

 

Although there the business man stood, buying a cacao and a slice of strawberry cake for a boy he literally picked up off the street, whom he was going to help find his wings back. And Minho simply decided to ignore the absurdity of it all. Perhaps he was dreaming, perhaps he had hit his head harder than he thought this morning – whatever it was, it was happening and he didn’t really feel like stopping it.

 

He took the tray with drinks and pastries and walked towards an unoccupied table near the window – a table that had formerly not been unoccupied.

 

“Taemin-ah?” Minho asked unsure.

 

“Yes, Minho?" a soft, timid voice sounded somewhere close by.

 

“Taemin, why are you under the table?”

 

“I'm hiding.”

 

“Yes, I can see that, but why?”

 

“Because of the fragaria.”

 

“The what now?”

 

“The ones on the cake.”

 

“What are you talking about?” the man asked astonished.

 

“The red fruit!” the boy cried.

 

“The strawberries?” Minho inspected the cake, but found nothing out of he ordinary. He bent down to eye level with the boy and asked: “How could these fruits be harmful?”

 

“Could you not put that near my face!”

 

“Alright, alright, sorry,” Minho said while cautiously putting the tray on the table. “There, it’s gone. Now could you please explain to me what’s so terrible about strawberries?”

 

“They’re forbidden,” Taemin whispered, wide-eyed.

 

“Since when?”

 

“Since ancient times!”

 

Minho pinched the bridge of his nose. He shouldn’t try to make sense of it. If the boy said they were forbidden, then so they were.

 

“Alright, I’m going to return the cheesecake now. Will you come out from under the table when I do so?”

 

The boy nodded and when Minho was a safe distance away, climbed back on his chair.

 

The girl at the counter looked dazed when the handsome man returned with the piece of cake. He explained that he had forgotten the boy didn’t like strawberries. The girl offered him to choose a piece of the many other cakes, but Minho declined. Who knew what other flavors would be forbidden in Taemin’s world.

 

When he walked back to his table, he heaved a sigh of relief when he saw the boy had emerged from under the table.

 

 

“So, Taemin-ah,” the elder started as he watched the boy build a house with milk cups and small bags of sugar. “You said you are looking for your wings…” Hoping the mention of his wings would grab the boy’s attention again. Fortunately for Minho, it did just that.  “Could you describe them to me?”

 

The boy nodded, perking up a little. “They are big, white and shine like a thousand diamonds in the sun.”

 

“That…” Minho couldn’t find the right words as he was, once again, lost in that beaming smile. He quickly blinked and focused his attention on something less dazzling – his black coffee for example. “Are they like those of a butterfly? Or are they more like a bird’s and made of feathers?”

 

Taemin looked pensive for a second, then nodded. “Yes, you could say they’re like a bird’s. But much bigger, of course.”

 

“Alright. So more like an angel’s?”

 

“An… angel?” The word tasted foreign on Taemin’s tongue. “What kind of bird is that?”

 

Minho was going to explain, when he thought better of it and pulled his phone out. He searched for pictures of angels and showed the results to Taemin, who exuberantly exclaimed: “Yes! They look exactly like that!” He beamed at Minho with that smile again and the elder was almost just as enthusiastic as the younger. Then he fixed his posture and went back to serious questions again. 

 

“And when was the last time you saw your wings?”

 

“I’m not sure…” Taemin frowned, something that didn’t quite fit the younger, Minho thought. “I suppose until a few days ago, before I went to sleep. They were still firmly attached to my back. But the next morning, I woke up and they were gone!” The boy looked like he was about to cry.

 

“It’s alright, Taemin-ah.” Minho reached out his hand to wipe a glistening tear from the boy’s cheek. Gently, as if he would startle the despairing boy otherwise. “Take a sip of your chocolate milk, it will help you relax.”

 

The boy did as told and found in the drink a new source of happiness. “This. Is. So. Good!”

 

Minho watched the younger as he downed his drink with a fond smile. He felt something stir in his chest, but passed it off as adoration. Yes, the boy was adorable with his messy blonde hair, brown doe eyes and the fullest lips Minho had ever seen – which were now smudged with chocolate milk. Even his cute little button nose hadn’t survived his sloppy drinking.

 

Minho already found himself bending forward, reaching with a napkin for the boy’s lips. Taemin looked at the elder curiously, oblivious to the mess he had made on his face.

“You just had a little… something there, yeah,” Minho mumbled awkwardly as he finished the cleaning job.

 

“Oh, thank you,” Taemin smiled, eyes crinkling to crescents.

 

“It was nothing.” And before he could drown in those deep depths of brown: “Let’s go find your wings now, shall we?” A nod and grin from Taemin. A big gulp for Minho. A small and big hand connected and off they went.

 

 

The search went exactly as Minho had expected: like a lost cause. He partly believed he was still either dreaming or hallucinating. But that was okay, because he really liked the feeling of Taemin’s soft hand in his. If he’d wake up now, he would leave for the same boring job like he did every day, greet the same people he saw every day, and eat take out alone in his apartment like he did every other day.

 

Now he was roaming the city with a beautiful – though painfully underage boy – near his side, while the sun was setting in the distance. It felt blissful, until he noticed the dreadful expression on the younger’s face.

 

“Taemin-ah, don’t worry, we’ll find them.” Not really. “Tomorrow is another day.” With the same hopeless results. “Let’s go find something to eat.” Hoping you will not freak out again over a harmless piece of perfectly edible food.

 

Minho’s mind was becoming rational again. And he didn’t want that. He wanted to be unaware of the illogical things happening today. He wanted to believe in Taemin’s world of angels and wings – of magic and unicorns if that’s what it took.

 

He dragged a sullen Taemin to the nearest barbeque stand and ordered a nice portion of samgyeopsal and bulgogi. The boy looked at the food hesitantly, like he had never seen meat before. Deciding that the smell was too good to leave it like that, he accepted  the little package of lettuce, meat and other banchan Minho had made for him. Taemin’s eyes widened.

 

All the meat was gone in less than five minutes.

 

 

“Where do you live? I’ll walk you home.” Minho, always the gentleman.

 

“Home?” Taemin, always confused about the simplest things.

 

“Your house? Your parents’ house? The place where you sleep at night?” Patience, Minho.

 

“Ah, yes the park.” On the bench near the ice cream stand.

 

“The park?” Not sure if he heard that right.

 

“Yes, with the trees and the small lake.” Eyes wide and sincere.

 

“You can’t sleep in the park, Taemin-ah.” You can’t sleep all alone and vulnerable to people with ill minds.

 

“Come, I’ll bring you to my apartment. I’ll even let you sleep in the bed if that’s how I can convince you.” Anything to keep the younger safe.

 

“That would be nice.” The boy smiled, the elder’s heart stuttered, and together they walked underneath the moonlight.

 

 

Taemin fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillows, his soft blonde hair splayed out like a halo. Suddenly Minho felt like being selfish. He didn’t want to look for the wings anymore. He didn’t want Taemin to have them back. If he had them again, he would just fly away, out of his life again. Minho wanted this angel for his own. To have that smile constantly aimed at him. But he also knew, that Taemin’s smile would fade without his wings. And he really didn’t want that either. In fact, the feeling to make Taemin happy was stronger than the will to be selfish. He would help the boy, no matter what it took.

 

 

Taemin awoke to the sound of a door slamming shut. Blinking his eyes a few times, he sat up and looked at his surroundings. Minho’s house. Home.

 

Giddily, the he rolled out of the bed. Sheltered in his big cocoon of blankets, he shuffled out of the room and into the kitchen. There, Minho was just placing heavy plastic bags on the counter and hadn’t heard the younger approaching. Tiptoeing towards the elder’s back, Taemin leaned up and blew cold wind in his ear.

 

“Holy mother of – Taemin?” The man watched a squirming – full out laughing – Taemin on the kitchen floor. “What has gotten into you?”

 

“Nothing~” the boy sang, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Minho had long given up on questioning the boy’s sanity, though he couldn’t help but be surprised at Taemin’s playful behavior this morning. It brought a smile to his face.

 

“Did you sleep well, Taemin-ah?”

 

The boy nodded, blonde hair bobbing up and down. “Yes, I did.” He gave the elder a smile, then pouted. “But now I’m hungry.”

 

“You’re lucky I just came home with the groceries. The fridge was completely empty.”

 

Taemin blinked. Minho sighed.

 

“I bought food, you want something?”

 

A nod.

 

“I also bought you some chocolate milk, you seemed to like that yesterday.”

 

A beaming smile.

 

Minho chuckled and went to prepare some stew for the both of them. “You can watch some TV in the mean time.”

 

A frown.

 

“You didn’t understand a word I just said, did you?”

 

A shake of the head.

 

“That’s what I thought. Follow me, caterpillar.”

 

Said caterpillar – he assumed Minho meant him – happily crawled after the elder and sat down in front of the wide, black window that was called a ‘TV’.

 

“Here, just watch some… cartoons,” Minho decided and put on Nickelodeon channel. Then he went back to prepare breakfast with the sounds of Taemin’s giggles in the background.

 

 

They spent the rest of the day wandering through the city again, until Minho’s slightly rational mind decided that a huge pair of white, feathery wings wouldn’t be lying somewhere on the streets or hanging on a lamppost. So he took the boy to the city’s public library where they had a vast mythology section. Maybe some research would get them further.

 

Taemin tailed behind the elder, gawking at the many books they passed. So many pages, sentences, words, letters. It made his head spin. He couldn’t even remember if he had ever read a book, if he was even capable of reading. There were so many words Minho had said that he’d never heard about. But maybe that was because it was such an unfamiliar world. Maybe there were some words Minho didn’t know that Taemin did, but he doubted that. The elder always seemed so wise.

 

Minho motioned for the sulking boy to come closer. “If your wings look so much like an angel’s, we should start looking in one of these books. Do you, ehm – know how to read?”

 

The younger wanted to nod, but had to shake his head instead. He would be of no use now, letting Minho do all the work. He hoped he wouldn’t be too disappointed.

 

“That’s all right,” the elder smiled. “You could browse the books with the most pictures. If something strikes you as familiar, just tell me, okay?”

 

“Okay,” the boy whispered. He could do that. It wasn’t much, but at least now he could help the elder – if only a little.

 

 

The two sat in front of each other at a long table. They had gone through page after page, book after book, and yet they still hadn’t found a clue. The sky outside was already a dark blue and in the library there were almost no people left.

 

Minho looked up from his book – a book named “Werewolves, vampires and other creatures of the night”, which so far didn’t have a single relation to the angel in front of him.

 

Said angel was fast asleep on top of own his book. Minho watched how his golden bangs cascaded from his forehead, how his nose was straight but curved nicely at the end, and how his rosy lips were slightly parted, small breaths escaping them in a steady rhythm.

 

A warm feeling spread throughout the elder’s chest. It was a pleasant feeling, yet it had some alarm bells going off inside his head. Was it alright to feel this way about a boy, whom he’d just met, who didn’t seem to be over sixteen years old and was, well, a boy?

 

At that moment Taemin’s eyes fluttered open and watched the elder drowsily. Minho’s heart faltered as Taemin brought his hands – soft as silk – to his face.

 

“You look sleepy.” He put a lock of brown hair behind his hyung’s ear. “Let’s go home.”

 

No, he wasn’t just a boy.

 

He was so much more.

 

 

Days passed by.

 

The results stayed the same.

 

Every night he heard Taemin cry.

 

But he always smiled when Minho came.

 

 

It had felt strange at first, having another person sleeping next to him in bed. But soon Minho found himself wondering why he hadn’t before. Taemin’s warmth was nice, especially since the weather had gotten chillier the last few days. He also didn’t mind whenever the boy – consciously or not – cuddled closer to him, so much that they’d wake up with limbs tangled and breath fanning each other’s faces.

 

It felt good. It felt a lot less lonely. It felt like he could take on the world.

 

Yet he still couldn’t face his co-workers again at work. He knew he was risking a lot by spending so many days being ‘ill’. But it was a better excuse than saying the truth – that he’d been taking care of a slightly delusional and clueless, but sweet and sincere boy he’d found on the street.

 

So yes, being ill sounded just about right.

 

Minho also found himself eating more often out than inside. Mainly because Taemin’s stomach demanded at least two portions a day of the most juicy barbequed meat they could find. And Minho let him, because the skinny boy needed to grow taller and stronger. And also because he adored the way the younger ate, with so much joy and vigor.

 

Another thing that changed, was that Minho often showed his affection for the younger by touching his hair, his face and other innocent places. And Taemin let him, because he really liked the feeling of Minho’s warm hands on him. He was even bold enough to give the elder spontaneous hugs or be the cause of another tickle fight.

 

True, Taemin was as sweet as an angel, but he could also be as mischievous as a fox. He even bit the elder from time to time. But Minho let him, because it was Taemin’s way of showing affection. And he’d rather he did that, than to retreat to the bedroom.

 

The pain of losing his wings was far more intense than Minho had hoped, and he was worried. He saw it in the boy’s eyes, something swirled in those brown depths – something called despair. If only Minho could make him happy. He seemed happy, but he would always feel like a part of him was missing. And Minho could relate in some way or the other.

 

 

They’d met exactly one month ago. It had been Minho’s idea to celebrate, while it had been the younger’s to sulk at home.

 

“Come on, let’s go outside!” A grin.

 

“No, it’s cold.” A frown.

 

“I bought you the thickest coat possible, don’t make up excuses.” A stern look.

 

“I am not making up excuses!” A pout.

 

“Taemin-ah…” A sigh.

 

“…Fine.” A grunt.

 

“That’s my angel.” A kiss to the cheek.

 

“Not without my wings…” A blush on those cheeks.

 

 

 

They ate dinner at Taemin’s favorite barbeque restaurant of the week. Minho bought a bottle of soju – for celebration purposes only of course. He allowed the younger one shot glass, but he soon found out the boy had a very low alcohol tolerance – very low.

 

“Hyung~” he slurred, after just half a glass. “Your eyes – they’re ridiculous!”

 

“Ehm, thank you?” Minho said amused.

 

“Like – It’s not like you see more than the rest of us. Or do you? Do you?!”

 

“Taemin-ah, calm down,” the elder shushed after receiving many curious glances. “You’re a bit tipsy, so let’s go home.”

 

“No, no, I feel great! I feel – dizzy.” And the younger fell from his chair.

 

 

“What am I going to do with you?” Minho wondered as he cradled the unconscious boy closer to his chest. “We were supposed to watch the fireworks at the park tonight and afterwards I was going to give you my present. But you just had to pass out after only after sip of soju, didn’t you? Aish, you silly boy.” Though he had to admit, it was somehow kind of endearing too.

 

At home, he laid the boy in bed and gently took his shoes and clothes off, replacing them with the cute panda pajamas the younger had insisted on buying. The man didn’t have the heart to tell him they were girl’s PJ’s. So he'd bought them quietly.

 

He watched the steady rise and fall of the younger’s chest. So calm, so peaceful, so… perfect.

 

And Minho finally realized what to call – dared to call – the strong emotion Taemin always seemed to bring up in him – love.

 

 

When Minho woke, the boy – his love – was still fast asleep. He looked so completely and utterly peaceful, that the elder couldn’t bear to wake him up. He deserved a little more sleep, that silly boy.

 

Minho opened the fridge and saw it was nearly empty. There was enough food for two normal persons. But alas, Taemin didn’t have the stomach of a normal person. The elder shook his head with a fond smile as he thought of how the boy was one day going to make him broke by simply eating.

 

Minho decided not to eat anything, as he liked to have breakfast together with the younger. He grabbed his wallet and as he made his way over to the door, his eyes fell upon the wrapped present he had wanted to give the night before – a pair of big, white, fluffy wings. Bought only via a party store. He really wasn’t sure whether Taemin would like them or not. Would he yell at him for not taking him seriously by buying fake wings, or would he jump in joy of having wings again – even if they weren’t real?

 

He shook his head. He’d find out when he’d come back. Knowing he wouldn’t be long and Taemin was still fast asleep, he left the present on the couch while he ventured to the grocery store just around the corner.

 

 

The boy awoke to the sound of a door slamming shut. He smiled. His hyung always tried to shut the door softly, but the apartment resonated the sound too much. He cherished the thought, though, just like he cherished his hyung.

 

Minho was being his thoughtful self again at the supermarket. He stood in front of the milk section – the chocolate milk section, to be more exact. Taemin had this strange habit of changing his favorite brand every single week, but the elder was at a complete loss which one to buy this week. He decided to take the one with the kittens on the cover.

 

The boy with the strange habits let himself roll out of bed and crawled in his cocoon to the bathroom. He didn’t feel like getting out of his warm blankets when he wasn’t fully awake yet. So he poked his hand awkwardly out of the covers and brushed his teeth with the very last drop of their shared toothpaste.

 

The elder wondered to himself if there was enough toothpaste at home. The stuff was getting more expensive by the day and now that he had to share with that blonde rascal, he had to buy a new one more often now. But that was alright, because he liked sharing with him.

 

Said blonde rascal ventured to the kitchen to steal some cookies from the jar in the left cabinet. He knew it was unfair to Minho, to eat something before breakfast. He knew the elder always waited for him. But he really needed something in his stomach to stay awake. He didn’t want Minho to find him snoozing on the kitchen table instead.

 

The elder stood in front of a big rack full with different kinds of cookies. Ever since he found out a certain cookie-monster had been sneaking out some biscuits out of his jar – the counter was always full with crumbs and the jar got gradually more empty – he had to reload his stash almost every three days. But he let the boy – he found a sadistic sort of amusement of watching the younger squirm whenever he casually asked him if he also found the cookie-jar to be particularly empty that day.

 

The cookie-monster hoped Minho wouldn’t notice the five cookies he had helped himself to this morning. He really couldn’t help it, it had chocolate chips in it! When he turned around to wipe the crumbs of the table, his eyes fell upon a big, red unidentifiable object lying on the couch. Curiously he made his way over and picked it up, noticing how light it was. A yellow sticky note grabbed his attention and he could recognize the scribbling on it to be his name.

 

Minho smiled as a kid next to him tried to read the labels on random packages. He had tried to teach Taemin to read hangul, but it was still a daily struggle for the boy to recognize even the easiest of words. It didn’t help that there were a lot of words he simply didn’t know. But Minho had all the patience in the world and would help the younger whenever he didn’t know something.

 

Taemin didn’t know whether he should open it or not. It had his name on it. It should be his to claim right? But Minho had obviously bought it for him and maybe the elder wanted to see the look on his face when he opened it. He could imagine he would. So he sat next to the present – the present with his name on it. His hands were itching.

 

Minho’s hands itched as he saw the birthday cakes were on sale. He knew Taemin would love it – but the boy was already high enough on sugar as it was. Then again, he still had a present to give and that called for a little celebration – especially since last night hadn’t been so successful. Mind made up, he grabbed the cake.

 

He grabbed the wrappings. He knew he shouldn’t – he couldn’t possibly. But he did. Stupid curiosity always got the best of him. Minho would be so mad – so disappointed. Why did he do that, why couldn’t he just wait like the good boy Minho expected him to be?  He stared at the red in his hands, moving what was inside carefully out of the package. And his eyes widened in shock. He stared for minutes, until the most dazzling of smiles appeared on the boy’s face. This was it. Minho had found his wings.

 

The elder suddenly shivered, a queasy feeling settling in his stomach. He ignored the feeling however, simply thinking it had something to do with the fact he hadn’t eaten yet. He held onto the basket tighter, hoping the queue would move faster.

 

He nearly forgot to write Minho a message, but he thought about it at the last moment. The last thing he wanted was to make the elder worry. Then he left the apartment and pushed the elevator button. Bursting with too much energy, the impatient boy took the stairs instead, going up two steps at a time. He was practically flying already.

 

Minho felt like passing out. Why didn’t the ladies in front of him stop talking already. He wanted to go home, crawl back into bed with Taemin and whine about his stomachache there. He didn’t want to be here anymore.

 

The wind was strong, but the boy felt unbothered by it at all. He was finally going to do what he had been dreaming of ever since waking in this strange world. He finally had his wings back. He was finally going to fly.

 

He was next in line and took a step closer…

 

Another step closer…

 

Watched his things go by.

 

Watched the world go by.

 

He was almost out of the store…

 

He was almost over the edge…

 

Just one step more…

 

And then he flew.

 

 

Minho felt relieved when he was outside the store. The fresh air was exactly what he needed. The pressure in his stomach was gone and was replaced by a soft floating feeling. The prospect of seeing Taemin’s beaming face when he’d see the cake made him fasten his walk. It took a few minutes until he reached the corner of the street.

 

He stopped in his tracks when he saw the commotion – a bustle of people in front of his apartment building.

 

Sirens sounded in the background and the chatter of people was almost deafening to his ears. He approached the scene as if in slow motion. He bumped into an elderly lady and, in a voice almost unknowns to himself, asked her what had happened.

 

Something terrible, she said.

 

A boy had jumped from top of the building, another said.

 

His stomach dropped.

 

He asked if there was something notable about the boy.

 

One said yes, his hair was golden. And there was something else, something strange… There were wings attached to his back.

 

Then his world stopped.

 

He walked through the crowd – was stopped a few times – but never stopped – couldn’t stop until he knew for sure _­– it couldn’t be him – it shouldn’t be him.

 

But it was him.

 

And the man screamed.

 

“Taemin-ah!”

 

He was unable to touch him.

 

“Taemin-ah!”

 

Arms held him back.

 

“Taemin-ah!”

 

Agonizing screams ripped through his throat, but no one could do anything for the heartbroken man.

 

There was no chance the boy had survived the fall.

 

No chance.

 

 

Minho awoke to blinding lights. “What the – ”

 

“Ah, Mr Choi, you’re awake.” A clear female voice spoke.

 

“Wha – why am I here?” he asked dazed.

 

“You were sedated for a little while. You nearly went into hysterics.”

 

“Why would I – ” Then fear gripped his heart. “Taemin?!”

 

“First you must calm down, Mr Choi.”

 

“How the hell can I calm down when – ”

 

“Please,” the woman said in a kind voice. “Please calm down and hear me out.”

 

Minho nodded, knuckles tightening around the sheets on the flimsy bed.

 

“First, the boy is alive – ” A huge sigh of relief. “ – But barely.”

 

“What do you mean?” He frowned.

 

“His life is still in danger, the doctors are trying to do everything they can to keep him alive, but it’s difficult.”

 

“What – ” Minho gulped. “How is he injured?”

 

The doctor understood his question. “He has mostly broken bones, in nearly every limb possible. But those aren’t our main concerns. He has a punctured lung and has lost a lot of blood. His vitals are in a very bad shape and you should prepare for the very worst – because it is likely to happen. I’m very sorry,” she added in a softer voice.

 

Her eyes stung seeing the man cry so heartbroken. But she had to remain professional. “If you could tell me at least his full name and date of birth, we could inform his parents or other important relatives. Also, I need to know what your relation to him is.”

 

And Minho felt like crying even louder. He had never asked for the boy’s full name. He had never even asked him how old he was. He barely even knew the boy he was crying so desperately about and it hurt.

 

“Sir? His name and your relation to him?”

 

Minho closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. “Taemin.” His voice was hoarse. “And he’s my other half.”

 

The doctor nodded, understanding.

 

As soon as Minho spoke the words, he realized them to be true. It didn’t matter in the beginning who or what Taemin was – and it certainly didn’t now. He just wanted him back.

 

Please come back.

 

 

Taemin did. He did come back. Slowly but surely he became aware of his surroundings. A dull light shining through his closed eyelids. A steady beeping and buzzing sounding next to him. And then he noticed the feeling of a big and familiar warmth surrounding his hand. He knew it had to be him – it had to be.

 

Mustering up all strength in his fragile body, he squeezed the hand.

 

The hand responded.

 

He squeezed again. It took so much out of him, he didn’t realize he’d fallen asleep again.

 

 

The next time he woke up, he could actually open his eyes. Barely, like the fluttering of the wings of a butterfly. But he managed to keep them open for a few seconds. And that was enough to know that indeed, it was Minho by his side.

 

He heard him calling his name. He heard scurrying of feet. He felt wind in front of his face, like someone was waving. It annoyed him and he could hear a gasp.

 

“He frowned! I swear he did!”

 

Minho hated it when he frowned, yet he seemed overjoyed now. He wanted to smile, tell his hyung to stop being so silly, but he drifted off again.

 

 

Then came the day he could actually open his eyes for more than a few seconds and he could also form words on his lips. They were soft, barely audible, but Minho heard them.

 

“Wait for me,” he’d whispered. And of course Minho did.

 

 

Minho didn’t have to wait for a very long time. The doctors spoke of a miracle. Every day the boy’s injuries seemed to lessen and every day he looked a whole lot healthier than the day before. There weren’t even scars to prove how close he’d been to death.

 

The elder was exhilarated. Taemin was recovering so well. It had almost been twenty-three days now and he felt more relieved now, knowing that soon the day would come when the boy would wake up entirely.

 

It happened on the twenty-fifth day to be exact. Minho had been dozing off with his head on Taemin’s bed. That’s when he felt his hair being with feather light touches.

 

“Taemin-ah?” The elder asked drowsily, looking up.

 

The younger nodded.

 

“You’re back.”

 

He nodded again and smiled.

 

Then realization hit the elder. “You’re really back?!”

 

“Yes,” the boy whispered. Then he was hugged so hard his breath faltered.

 

“Stupid boy, what did you think you were doing?! You can’t just jump off a random building! They weren’t even real – they weren’t real.”

 

The younger let the man sob in his chest. Tears fell from his own eyes. His lips quivered. He silently screamed into Minho’s hair. He was so sorry –  so sorry for leaving him.

 

They remained silent for a while. Then the boy spoke up.

 

“When I fell…” He closed his eyes, taking a quivering breath. “I didn’t think of flying anymore.”

 

“Why didn’t you?” Minho whispered.

 

“I thought about how meaningless it was… if you couldn’t even see me fly.” The boy slowly looked up, eyes locking with the elder’s. “I thought about how meaningless it was to have wings… when you already made me soar by simply being by my side.”

 

Minho nodded. Taemin apologized. A pair of lips shushed the other’s.

 

 

Today was finally Taemin’s last day at the hospital. He was overjoyed by the fact and so were the nurses who had suffered from his daily dose of mischief. But even they pinked away a few tears when the endearing boy said goodbye to them all.

 

He only had to wait for Minho now. He was coming to pick him up and take him back home. Finally home.

 

When the elder entered his room, he smiled at the boy, then frowned.

 

“Hi hyung,” the younger chirped, a nervous giggle escaping his lips. “Today’s finally the day!”

 

But Minho wasn’t that easily distracted. He pointed a finger at the bowl of red fruit in the boy’s hands instead. “Care to explain to me why you are eating strawberries all of a sudden?”

 

“Well, you see, I’ve been thinking…”

 

“Well?” the other urged.

 

“Fragariaphobia – it really doesn’t make any sense, you know.”

 

“I’m sorry, the what now-phobia?”

 

“Fragariaphobia. Also known in common tongue as ‘a fear of strawberries’.”

 

“Aha…”

 

“And well, it’s stupid really. I mean, I’m not afraid to jump from a twenty-story building, but I’m terrified whenever I see a strawberry? That’s ridiculous. They’re small and red, look a bit like raspberries, but they taste so much better! So why should I be afraid of them? Why should anyone be afraid of them? Strawberries are sweet, and good, and delicious and – oh my god, hyung, I love strawberries!”

 

“Of course you do,” the elder deadpanned. But he couldn’t help the smile that crept on his face.

 

“Did you know that strawberries aren’t actually a berry, but bananas are?”

 

“I… did not know that.”

 

“But now you do! And did you also know how many recipes there are with strawberries?” While the younger babbled on about the importance of strawberries, Minho could only notice how the fruit had painted Taemin’s plump lips a lovely red. He could only think about how they would feel against his own, how they would taste like.

 

Without really realizing what he was doing, he pressed his lips against the younger’s. They were sweet and soft and almost instantly kissing him back.

 

“I love you so much,” the elder whispered against the other’s lips. “You have no idea.”

 

“Oh, but I do.” The boy smiled and pulled away a little.

 

“Really now?”

 

“Yes. And do you also know how much I love you?”

 

“No, tell me?”

 

“I love you more than strawberries,” the younger whispered.

 

“You must love me very much then.” The elder grinned. “Do you also love me more than chocolate milk?”

 

“Now don’t be ridiculous.”

 

But Minho knew being a tease was Taemin’s way of showing he loved him. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t punish him by tickling him into surrender.

 

“Okay, stop, I give up! I love you more than all the chocolate milk and strawberries in the world!”

 

“Promise?”

 

“Yes yes, I promise!”

 

“Very well then. Now go get dressed, you pink panda.”

 

“My pandas are cute and you know it.”

 

“Yeah yeah,” the elder waved him off. A white card on the side table suddenly caught his attention. On the front there was a white dove with its wings spread out. Odd.

 

He flipped the card. On the back was written in beautiful calligraphy:

 

“A life without wings, is the most fragile of all.

But never be afraid, even the best of us fall.”

 

The note was unsigned.

 

“Taemin-ah,” Minho turned around, eyes still trained on the white piece of paper. “Who gave you this card?”

 

“Hm, what card?” Taemin asked absentmindedly, pulling the pajama top over his head. Just like every other time his head got stuck in the opening because he always forgot to open the first two buttons.

 

“Silly boy.” Minho shook his head amused, then let his eyes wander over the white expanse of Taemin’s back. It looked smooth, delicate and unblemished – until he saw something shimmer.

 

When the boy was about to turn around again, the elder stopped him.

 

“Wait – what are these?” He trailed two silver lines between the younger’s shoulder blades. They were barely visible, but they glistened in the rays of the sun that came through the window.

 

 Scars.

 

Right where… wings would have been.

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The boy smiled over his shoulder, a knowing look in his eyes.

 

The man smiled back. It didn’t matter anyways.

 

In the end Minho was just a lonely man who’d finally found someone to share his life with and Taemin was just a boy who’d fallen three times: from heaven, a building and in love.

 

Fin

 

Thank you so much for reading <3

Please leave a comment and tell me what you think of my story! :)

 

Here is an explanation for some of the things in the story. It’s fine if you don’t read it, but it explains some parts that might have been confusing.

For starters, it might seem weird how Minho was not weirded out by some delusional kid he had suddenly met. First of all, I like to think Minho was on the brink of insanity himself. Being lonely does that sort of thing to you. Therefore Minho probably blamed himself for all the absurdity going on. In fact, he desperately grasped onto it. In his eyes, Taemin was both a figment of his imagination and at the same time his salvation.

Secondly, no one can resist Taemin’s charms. Whether he is a delusional, slightly messed-up kid or not – his cuteness will convert you. No discussion there.

Then again, I’m not saying the Minho in my story was delusional. Taemin did in fact exist in the story.  And whether Taemin was really an angel or not, is up to your own imagination. He might have been a lost kid looking for something to hold onto – kind of like Minho. But he also might have been a fallen angel looking for his actual wings (but found Minho instead).

Also, the strawberries. At first I had this idea to make the strawberries somewhat like the forbidden apple in the Garden of Eden. Taemin was tricked into eating one of the berries and was banned from, in this case, heaven. It was also the reason why Taemin lost his wings in the first place, although the boy himself couldn’t remember so. But I gave up on this theory when I couldn’t get it to fit in the story. So instead of this long idea, you could see the phobia as yet another of Taemin’s strange quirks.

Long story short and like in the actual end, Minho was just a lonely man who'd finally found someone to share his life with and Taemin was just a boy who'd fallen three times: from heaven, a building and in love.