He had wings. An angel? No. There was no such thing. But… those eyes. Ethereal.

 

She was on the ground again, roots twisting welts into her restrained legs. Struggling was futile. The angel… no, the man… he stood in front of her, expressionless, motionless. She tried to warn him, to run, run quickly, before they closed in on them. He only blinked those eyes once again. Her limbs began to numb and closed in panic. She watched helplessly as the dark shadows rushed towards her, malice ripping through the air, closing in, screaming in a pitch that shattered her insides. Help me! Anyone! Anyone….

 

She squeezed her eyes shut. And then there was a burst of unimaginable light, the silhouette of an angel, wings spread, burned bright against her lids.

 

               .              .        .

 

Where am I?

 

A white ceiling, interrupted by glass skylights. The moon glowed bright on the glass, illuminating the stars on a blanket of indigo. Min Young sat up.

 

She was in an airy room, light coloured, bright in contrast to the pitch black just outside the windows. The sofa under her was cool to the touch and made of textured leather, tinged with the faint scent of wood and pine.

 

Bare feet touched the soft hardwood floor as she padded curiously, with a touch of wariness, across the room, eyes wide as she craned her neck to gaze at the stars above. The door was unlocked. It clicked open almost inaudibly.

 

Where am I?

 

Down the hall, lit soft white, widened into a stretching expanse of a living room. She paused at the sight of a figure, back turned to her, standing before a window - a wall of glass. He turned. At that moment, she gasped, because his eyes were ethereal, and on his shoulder blades, unfolding, was a pair of glimmering white wings.

 

No. She was mistaken. Eyes were rubbed, head shaken, her mind cleared. She looked again.

 

“Oh, you’re up already, Miss?”, he smiled at her, breaking the silence. She almost breathed a sigh of relief, for, upon second glance, he had no wings after all - though his eyes… perhaps it was the light. It was difficult to tell.

 

“Yes… may I ask where I am? What happened?”

He cocked his head, hands in pockets. “Well…”. He seemed to be contemplating something. A flicker of incomprehensible emotion flitted across his features before it disappeared just as quickly. “You collapsed on the road while running, and I was just passing by. You almost got run over, you know.”

 

Min Young didn’t know what to make of that. “But why am I here? Why didn’t you simply take me to the hospital?”

 

“Well, I tried to call the ambulance, but you suddenly gained consciousness again and begged me not to make you got the hospital. I didn’t know what to do with you… would you have rather been on the side of the road?”

 

Well... it was true that she hated the hospital with her whole heart. There were too many bad memories there: the sirens, his pleading voice, the cries of despair, of loss, of death, tears. The weight of the thought pressed down on her back again, darkening the edges of her vision. She couldn't breathe.

 

“Miss! Miss, are you-”

 

                .        .        .

 

She opened her eyes, for the umpeenth time that night. When were these fainting spells going to cease? When would his memory stop haunting her?

 

“I guess you’re awake again. Here, have some tea.” The angel… no, the man’s face appeared in front of her, eyes endless and confusing again, mug extended outward in a gesture of expectation. She accepted the tea gratefully.

 

The tea was scalding hot, she noted, before sputtering at the pain from the hot liquid in in . Damn, she needed to wake up.

 

The man only chuckled, taking a sip out of his own mug. They sat silently for a moment. Min Young took the opportunity to study him. A rather lanky, lean build, with white blond hair that was swept to the side carelessly, a tall nose with lips that seemed constantly pressed in a straight line, crescent brown eyes that unsettled the hell out of her. Were they even real?

 

He caught her staring, and raised his eyebrow. “Have you finally come to your senses again? Miss..”

 

“Song Min Young,” she put in, softly.

 

He nodded. “Miss Min Young. I suppose I ought to introduce myself. My name is Oh Sehun. Nice to meet you.” He held out his hand.

 

She took it. His hand was cool, like the floor beneath her bare feet. “Nice to meet you too, Oh Sehun.”