Hello, angel.
 

“He’s kind of cute, Y/N.” Your friend says and then urges, “Go over and talk to him.”

You chuckle nervously, punching your friend playfully on the shoulder. “You know I’m incapable of speaking to anyone of the opposite gender.”

“There’s a first time for everything.” Your friend offers.

You laugh although it is shrill and high-pitched, anxious even. “I have tried. It has never turned out well, not even once.”

Your friend shakes her head, her tight ponytail bouncing. “Just go say hi and then just walk away.”

“Well what’s the point in that?” You swirl the last bit of alcoholic liquid in the bottom of your cup, anxiety beginning to rise.

“Just go.” Your friend repeats irritatingly.

You scowl at your friend but she offers you an owl-eyed, extended lipped, pleading look.  “I think you could really use a boyfriend, or at least go on a date, Y/N.” She says, her words sounding odd because she doesn’t bother to adjust her sulking face.

“Aish…” You grumble, giving her an annoyed glare of disapproval. “You’re so infantile.”

Your friend’s expression returns to its normal state and she smiles toothily. “I know. Now get over there before I take him for myself.”

You glance over to the opposite side of the bar where your target is located and you sigh. The pit of anxiety tearing at your insides intensifies. You lift your glass to your lips and swig down the last sip of your beverage. You smack the glass downwards onto the counter with a clank and push your stool back. Your friend gives you thumbs up, but you, however, return the gesture with a feisty middle finger. Your friend only chucks quietly, like she is hoping that you won’t hear. But, of course, you do. You just don’t bother engaging her.

You pull the tight black dress—that you were practically wrestled into by your friend because you hate clothing that shows more than needed— down as low as it would sit on your hips and you tentatively make your way across the bar.

There is a vacant stool right beside him and you silently slither your way into the metal seat. You adjust yourself so that you are seated somewhat comfortably. You then place your nails, decorated with chipped black nail polish, up on the worn counter. You tap your fingernails nervously, the clicking sound seeming to shout out your presence. The boy—or man or somewhere in between— you’ve had your eyes glued on all evening, shoots you a sideways glance.

Your heart flutters and you smile tightly. You swallow the sharp lump of angst rising in your throat and manage to say, “Umm, hi.”

He smiles at you, eyes flicking across your face briefly. “Hello.”

You can feel the noticeable heat rising to your face and you clear your throat. You drop your hands to your lap, fiddling with your fingernails. You have no clue of what to say. It’s like your lips have been sealed with massive amounts of superglue, containing any words you might have.

You begin to feel a line of sweat run across your hairline and you casually brush your fingers against your forehead to wipe it away.

You can feel him give you another sideways glance and you unconsciously look over at him. His eyes attain a twinkle of humor at your awkward behavior and you instantly feel your cheeks become redder.

“Can I buy you a drink or something?” He asks.

You wipe your hands, slickened with sweat, on your knees and attempt to deliver a smile.

“S-sure.”

You can’t help but let your eyes travel across his flawless profile. When he calls the bartender over, you study how his lips move when he makes your order. You like how his messy black bangs—black like a raven’s shimmering feather, black like a starless night—fall in just the right way, framing his unblemished forehead perfectly. He looks like someone who came from a painting, a masterpiece painted beautifully with patience and delicacy.

After another moment of silence, he looks over at you again. “I’m Chanyeol, by the way.”

Your eyes flicker up from their timid state, focused on the polished wood counter. “Y/N.”

He smiles at you and your heart skips a beat. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.” he says as he outstretches his hand in your direction, a friendly gesture. You cautiously take his hand. His soft fingers curl around your hand, eyes locking with yours. A shutter travels up your spine and you smile, calmer than before. “It’s nice to meet you to.”
 

Of course, angel.

“I still think watching a horror movie with Y/N is a bad idea.” Your friend says and you shoot her a scowl.

“Just buy the tickets already.” You snap, annoyed with your friend’s constant teasing. The last time you’d watched a horror movie was three years ago. Yes, it was scary—correction, terrifying—but that was years behind you. You aren’t going to be the one to thrash the enjoyable evening for everyone because you’re a bit jumpy.

You feel arms go around your waist from behind and your annoyance fades instantly. You lean back into the embrace and tilt your head to the side to look at your boyfriend’s face.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Chanyeol asks, low enough so your friend doesn’t hear from her stance ahead. You glance away to assure yourself your friend isn’t straining her ears to listen. Luckily, she is immersed in a flirtatious conversation with her date for the evening.

Your eyes return to Chanyeol’s warm gaze. He wears a small smile as he rests his chin on your shoulder. You are only a few centimeters away from him and his soft breathing washes over you.

“Honestly, I don’t think I’ll be sleeping for a few weeks after this.”

Chanyeol chuckles lowly. “Don’t worry, angel, I’ll be sure to protect you from any monsters.”

“Watch it.” You warn although you giggle slightly.

“Do you want to do something else?” Chanyeol asks.

You shake your head. “No, I just came for the popcorn.”

“Ah,” Chanyeol sighs. “So you didn’t come to cuddle with me in a dark theater?”

You make a face. “I can do that at home.”

“Is that an invitation?”

You choke on a burst of laughter and elbow him in the ribs. “You ert.”

You try and wiggle free from his embrace, but he strengthens his secure hold around your stomach. “You’re staying right here, angel.” He leans in and kisses your cheek softly. He straightens and he is once again towering over you as usual. You rest your head on his chest and reach up to cover his hands with yours.

Even as the line to the ticket booth continues to flow forward, he still doesn’t falter his grip around you as you move ahead. You don’t mind it though. You like how he shows you off in public, how he’s never embarrassed or self-conscious about hugging or kissing you before crowds of strangers.
After a few more minutes of waiting, your friend is able to purchase four tickets and you all make your way back to the theater after equipping yourselves with refreshments.

Once the lights dim you begin to fidget uncomfortably in your seat. The opening to the movie is already starting and you feel a nervous sweat prickle at your lower back. You slurp up the last bit of your cola, placing your now emptied cup in its holder.

Beside you, Chanyeol slides his hand across his armrest and tangles his fingers with yours. You look over at him and you can see him smile, despite the darkened state of the theater. You adjust yourself in your seat so you are able to lean your head comfortably on his shoulder.

Not even thirty minutes into the movie, you are already shielding your vision with your hands. You should have said no, damn it you should have said no. Your friend had been wanting to go on a double date for quite some time, and that’s the only reason you agreed to tag along. Your friend never spoke of going to view a horror movie, or else you would’ve immediately declined. Now, as you sit with your eyes hidden from the horrifying events happening onscreen, you are really regretting it.  

Just when you uncover enough courage to peak from between your slightly parted fingers, you react to the actions onscreen with a stifled yelp. You clamp your hand over your eyes completely and try to snuggle closer into Chanyeol’s shoulder. You can feel him trying to mute a laugh and a moment later, he moves your hand away from your eyes. You look up at him and you see that he’s wearing a large grin.

“It’s not funny.” You hiss quietly.

“I never said it was.” Chanyeol responds, equally quiet. “Do you want to leave?”

You swallow the embarrassment rising in the pit of your gut and nod. “Please.”

You feel a refreshing wave of relief crash over you when Chanyeol nods. “Alright then, angel. Let’s go.”

Before you stand to leave, you twist in your seat to face your friend. You’re about to open your mouth to tell her you’re leaving, but then you notice that she’s occupied in a make-out session with her date. Your face twists in disgust and turn back to Chanyeol. By the look of a twitching smirk toying with his lips, he’s obviously trying to bury his laughter before it erupts, disrupting the movie for the rest of the audience.
“Come on, angel.” He says and takes your hand. He stands and begins moving through the crowded isles with you trailing behind.

After navigating the labyrinth of a theater, you exit out into the lobby. The moment you emerge into the outdoors, you get struck by a chilled breeze. You release a surprised breath and wrap your arms around yourself. You stay close to Chanyeol as you walk along the sidewalk in search of his car.  

Chanyeol outstretches his arm to drape around your shoulders and you draw in closer, wrapping your arms around his stomach.  It takes a total of five minutes for you to finally stumble across his car. You are already cold to the bone, hands whitened and lips red due to the nearly unbearable cold. Chanyeol turns the heat on high and you let your hands rest in front of the vent releasing the comfortingly warm air.

Chanyeol blows a puff of air into his hands and rubs them together before turning to face you. “What do you want to do? You want to get something to eat?”

You shake your head no and you yawn unconsciously. “I’m really tired, actually.” You rest your head on your seat and close your eyes, absorbing the warmth thankfully.  “You wouldn’t mind driving me home, would you?” You say rather groggily. You can hear the smile in Chanyeol’s voice as he leans over and places a kiss on your head, before saying, “Of course not, angel.”
 

I love you, angel.
 

“Channie, I don’t think this paint matches well.” You pull the paint swatch away from the wall, a criticizing look making its way into your expression. Chanyeol comes forward to stand beside you, tilting his head to the side, eyes calculating the situation.

“I don’t know, angel, I kind of like it.”

You sigh and give the lime green another look. “I guess its okay.”

“Aish, don’t sound so pitiful,” Chanyeol says as he ruffles your hair, making you scowl. “If you don’t like it we’ll pick another, it’s no big deal.”

“Okay, fine.” You say and you bat his hand away. “I’m not a baby, you know that right?”

Chanyeol furrows his brows. “Nah, you’re my baby.”

You roll your eyes and walk back to the coffee table to study the selection of colors. You push your hair back and away from your face, overwhelmed. Chanyeol comes over and puts his arms around your shoulders. “How about we take a break?”

You nod, relieved. “Alright, that sounds fine.”

Chanyeol smiles and kisses your forehead quickly. He then exits the room, seeming to be in route to the kitchen. You gather up the color swatches into a messy pile and take them between your hands. You look around at the skyscrapers and seemingly endless rows of boxes. Some of them are torn open, contents spilling out in all directions, some are half empty, and others are left untouched. You blow out a low breath of air, not even caring to think about all the work that still needed to be done.

You and Chanyeol had been toying with the idea of living together for quite some time, and you had just both agreed on it a few months back. You’d been dating for more than a year, and things had gotten serious between you both. So serious that you both decided to share an apartment located in the downtown area, your favorite location throughout the entire city. Your parents hadn’t entirely agreed with your decision to move in with Chanyeol, just because you haven’t married him yet. You denied their concerns, because you love Chanyeol, you don’t need marriage, at least not at this point. You are completely happy and fulfilled with your current relationship with him. You didn’t want to force yourself—or him—into something you weren’t quite prepared for.

You release another sigh and walk back towards the kitchen, in search of Chanyeol. You find him in what seems like the aftermath of a major war known as the kitchen. He closes the refrigerator and hands you a soda. You take the chilled can from him gratefully and lean up against the lowly situated counter, the small of your back pressing against the smooth marble. Chanyeol curls an arm around your shoulder and you rest your head on his bicep, raising your eyes to look at him. He smiles at you and rubs his hand up and down your arm.

“We’ll get this all figured out eventually, angel. I promise.” He says.

“If I survive that long. How many miscellaneous things did you decide to lug over here? It’s exhausting caring all of your boxes.”

Chanyeol laughs at your caustic remarks and nudges your shoulder with his freehand. “Don’t complain so often, Y/N. You’re the one who asked me to live with you.”

“No, no, no.” You say, shaking your head in disagreement. “You’re the one who wouldn’t stop begging.”

Chanyeol pushes away from the counter and moves to face you. He places his hands on either side of you, fingers and palms bracing against the counter. “That’s right, angel. And now you’re stuck with me.”

You reach up and wrap your arms around his neck. “Promise?”

Chanyeol kisses you softly before resting his forehead against yours. “I promise.”

You smile and tangle your hands in the feathery hair lining his neck. “Good, I don’t want it any other way.”

Chanyeol pulls you into a hug the moment those words escape your mouth. You sigh and savor the familiar scent that drifts from his skin. You feel his lips brush your ear as he whispers, “You know I love you, right?”

Your lips twitch into a small smile. “Yes, Channie, you tell me every day.”

“Good,” he says, his voice hushed. “Because I really love you, angel.”

You tighten your arms around him and you bury your face in the crook of his neck. “I love you too.”
 

I’m sorry, angel.

“Y/N please don’t leave.”

You ignore his plea, the plea that he has repeated over and over. You can’t take it anymore, you have to get away, you have to be free of this.

Your eyes are red and puffy from endless crying, your face hot with rage and sadness. You slam your suitcase on the bed, the straps smacking down against the wrinkled comforter. You throw in handfuls of your clothes into the gaping mouth of the bag, not even bothering to fold them properly.

You know he’s there. He’s watching you from the doorway, wordless. His throat must be irritated and sore from the yells that had erupted earlier. Serves him right, you suppose.

You can feel the remorse radiating from the opposite end of the room, radiating from his shattering heart.

You know that this is killing him. No, not like it is killing you. He’s had countless opportunities to change, yet he hasn’t. He has been distant for months, almost a year. He never speaks and when he does, his voice is cold and almost lifeless. You don’t know what has happened to him, and whenever you try to inquire him about his troubles, he yells at you and pushes you further away.

You finish “packing” your things and zip the bag, releasing your boiling anger on the suitcase as you furiously close it.

You throw it over your shoulder and whirl around, ready to storm out and never return. Your heart plummets when you see Chanyeol. He used to be so bright and buoyant, but now he is standing with pure sorrow evident in his beautiful eyes. Tears are streaking his face, and a few stray ones are dangling helplessly from his jaw, threatening to fall and stain his shirt.

Your heart is breaking in two as you look at the love of your life, the one you thought you’d be with for the rest of your days, seeming to shatter like a fragile wine glass as sorrowful emotions eat away at his heart.

Your face begins to soften but you force your stone-like expression to remain. You tighten your grasp on the suitcase’s strap and you brush past him and out into the living room. You can feel his presence quietly following behind you, at least ten feet away.

You want yourself to stop, to turn back and say you’re apologies,that you promise you won’t leave him alone. You push those feelings away and will yourself to keep walking until you are at the front door. Your hand is shaking as you reach outwards and clutch the door handle. As you twist it, the door beginning to creak open, you hear him whisper in a broken voice, “I’m sorry, angel.”

You choke down a sob, the sweet sound of the precious pet name drifting to your ears. You fight the urge to whirl around and throw your arms around his neck, and you push the door open entirely. You exit into the empty hallway of your apartment complex, a fresh wave of tears beginning to prick at your eyes. You can’t bear to glance backwards as you whisper, “Goodbye, Channyeol.”

And then the door closes behind you.