My Angel

Hello angel, you are like a painting,

When I look the skies, I see only you,

City street lights, even if the lights go out,

And the moon disappears, it’s still bright because

I have a star that fell from the skies,

And it’s you

It was the same thing.

The forest seemed to envelop him, the sound of trickling water and birds singing reaching his ears. Footsteps behind him snagged his attention from where he stood. Jongin turned around.

The backs of two brilliant white wings were stark against the brown and green tones of the forest. The one exception was a tiny, ebony feather that stood out on his lower left wing. They stood a proud 5 meters, feathers ever so slightly curling inward at the sides.

He had the urgent wish to those velvet–soft feathers just across the stream between them. Jongin lurched forward to see who hid behind the white curtain, when a twig cracked underfoot. With a loud whoosh, the magnificent wings snapped in. He froze, the entire chirping of the forest falling silent. Glancing up, he barely saw the edge of his face as he looked to the side, a mischievous smile on his heart-shaped lips. Inky hair and large brown eyes. Splatters of birthmarks on his neck and face, too, that were stunning constellations on his tan skin.

Jongin was completely mesmerized.

And like always, before he could drink in the sight of him more, the angel took off running straight ahead, his bare feet slapping harshly on the leaves. The boy reached the border of the trees before the other had the right mind to chase after him. Jongin leapt over bushes and wove around rocks, his eyes only on the small boy in front of him. Through the canopy of branches, it gave way to a crystal blue sky and the cutoff of a steep cliff leading down to crashing waves. Once through the trees, the boy halted and strode out toward the edge. Wind whipped at Jongin’s hair from all angles when he finally cleared the forest and padded onto the green grass. The cliff was 60 feet above the roaring of the ocean, but the dream figure didn’t seem fazed as his toes nestled up closely to fringe of the cliff, wings fluttering.

Then, the angel turned around.

Jongin’s focus first went to his eyes. Rich, dark brown orbs leveled his curious but intense gaze, a sly glint twinkling at him. When the two made eye contact, the winged boy smiled with his perfectly white teeth. He closed his eyes. And with that, he fell back towards the ocean, disappearing. Jongin’s breath caught in his throat as he hurtled to the cutoff. He was falling, falling, until suddenly his wings snapped open to catch the air whistling by him. The plunge turned into a soar, and he was gliding over the ocean water, fingers skimming over the waves, rapidly becoming a speck in the distance. “Come back!” Jongin screamed, but to no one, for the boy, his angel, was no longer visible.

“Jwongin! Wake up!” A rough hand shook him awake. “You kept shouting tings weally loud, dude.” Jongin lazily tried to rub the sleep from his eyes, the hazy face of his roommate coming into focus just above him. His toothbrush stuck out of his mouth, minty foam at the corners of his lips threatening to spill onto his face below.

    “Personal space, Jongdae” he murmured with closed eyes as he pushed his face away. “What time is it.”

Jongdae sat on the floor, picking at the white carpeting, brushing his teeth simultaneously.

    “Whah was your dweam abou?”

    What was he supposed say? That he sees this angel in his dreams every night for the last month and a that he’s fallen in love with? Yes.

    “Him.” There was an exasperated groan.

    “Not again.” His roomate got up from Jongin’s bed and scratched his blond hair. “That’s sho weird, man. You tink afer a couple daysh it’d go away. . . at leasht that’s better than my shtrange dreamsh wit Gwandma and the giwaffe masksh . . .”  He disappeared through the doorway.

    “Wait! What’s the time!” There was no response. With a sigh, he heaved himself out of bed to go see the clock on his bookshelf across the room. He gripped the shelf and squinted his eyes at the object. 7:23. 27 minutes until work started.

Eighteen minutes past, and he was walking out their apartment door with his thermos of coffee, striped tie gleaming in the rare morning sunlight, khakis stiff from his mother’s insistence to iron them. “You can’t go to your new job without pressed pants, Nini.” His backpack thumped against his back as he jogged toward the shuttle system. There, he boarded with his ticket, and messed with his phone during the time that he eyed the crying baby across the aisle to him. Once the train stopped at his destination, a knock in with a careless man had strewn dark roast all over his crisp pants and shirt. Sorry, Mom.

Walking into the department store, furiously scrubbing at his clothes, Jongin tried to present himself in a serious manner. The woman at the front was obviously judging him, making him regret picking his first day. His papers were looked over, and soon he was stocking shelves.

“How was work.” Jongdae looked up from his laptop on the couch. He was still in a rumpled striped shirt from this morning, and he just had to have no pants on. Jongin threw his backpack down to the floor and stumbled into the sofa chair.

    “My back hurrrrtttts. I don’t think I can bend down ever again.” He rubbed his face. “And please put some pants on. I know we’ve known each other for 11 years but I don’t need to see all that.” Jongdae almost looked offended. “Found any jobs to take you in?” His roomate shook his head in reply.

    “I was thinking of being a waiter.”

    “I bet you could get free food like all the time.” His flatmate nodded in agreement.

“What’s for dinner,” he asked, back on his laptop.

“I don’t know. We need to shopping this weekend.”

“We only have bread and stale Cocoa Puffs.”

“. . .”

“Take out?”

“I’ll call.”

The forest was now an old friend. He spun around, and saw him, saw his beautiful wings with the one black feather. Had the burning desire to hold the angel in his arms, to protect him. The boy turned and ran, almost disappearing into the green foliage. Jongin’s feet pounded after him, wondering if this time it’d be different. When they got to the cliff, the angel gazed at him with the same child–like mischief as he always did. The boy’s lips and cheeks looked so plump and soft, and Jongin ached to pepper them with kisses. The next thing he knew, he tumbled down the edge, his wings flapping in the wind, disappearing into the horizon, leaving Jongin love struck and love sick.

Jongin was off again strolling down to the subway system, wistfully thinking about the angel in his dreams, as per usual. His thermos of coffee was now pulled close to his chest as he weaved through crowds of people.

On the last step of the stairs going down, his own clumsiness caused his foot to miss the last step. And of course steaming dark roast blotched his shirt and tie. Jongin swore as he stepped into the bank, the second day of the job with coffee on his clothes. The disdain from the woman up front didn’t help, either.

This order of events was repeated over the next couple weeks. He’d get up, go to work, somehow manage to get coffee on his clothes to the point where he was wearing a raincoat to work, get back to the apartment after an exhausting day of dealing with people, eat takeout or stale food that Jongdae insisted on, then the best part of his day: seeing him in his dreams. Cheesy, I know.

    Every morning Jongin would wake up, frustrated, with his heart racing. The dreams were starting to get more irritating. No, not because of the angel, but the fact that it was always the same. Anytime his dream–self would try and change the plot, it was like his body didn’t comprehend. He always stood there and watched as he flew away, screaming at the angel to tell him who he is and why he was torturing him. Even though this bothered Jongin, he still looked forward to it every night, trying to memorize the map of his face.

Jongin was on his way to work like any normal day. The noise of his yellow raincoat squeaking accompanied the swishing of the coffee in his thermos. Sadly, some espresso was dotting his shirt inside, defying the laws of physics when the subway train stopped suddenly, and his poor thermos couldn’t contain its contents. The Jongin was fuming. Head held high, he glared at any passerbyers that dared meet his eyes. He was just passing a bakery, when a shuffling stranger walking in the opposite direction caught his gaze. Black high tops stomping on the pavement, the short boy was on a lollipop, lips twisted into a bored frown. Multiple piercings lined both his ears, and his hands stuffed in his light blue bomber jacket. But that wasn’t the thing. For what seemed like eternity, Jongin stopped breathing, and the world slowed. The thing was that this girl was him. Him, the angel.

The hair was exactly the same, his eyes the identical shade of umber. The curve of his mouth was a perfect match. Even the birthmarks on his nose and neck were the exact same as the picture in his mind. Jongin’s heart felt a swell at the sight. He was absolutely sure that this person was his angel. He was real. If he wanted, he could stretch his hand out and boop his nose.

“You can’t stop in the middle of the sidewalk, man.” He could feel someone distantly thump into his back. And just like that, the world sped up to real time. People streamed around him as he was frozen in watching the boy stride off. As he watched him get swallowed up by bodies, he noticed something white peeking out of the hem of his jacket. A feather? It then dawned upon him that it had to be part of a wing. If Jongin had any doubt, then it vanished like the angel in the crowd. He took five dazed steps forward before he spun around, worming through the mob with pounding feet and heart.

He must have searched for an hour. Checked every bank and bookstore within a three mile radius, always replied with a shake of a head. Apparently no one had seen a boy will a lollipop, walking without a care in the world. His co–workers were burning holes in back when he entered work with his head hung low, two hours and a half late. Jongin was surprised he hadn’t gotten fired.

    “Yeah, it was probably a trick of the mind, dude,” was Jongdae’s response to when Jongin exclaimed his run in with the famed person. “No! It was really him! I saw his wings! At least part of them–”

    His flatmate slapped a hand on the other’s mouth in attempt to shut him up. Jongdae’s face got really close to his. “No. People from your dreams do not step out of your mind and walk down the street, on a lollipop.” He narrowed his eyes and looked at the ceiling. “But he was pretty cute, right?”

    “Pretty doesn’t even cut it, man–” Jongdae put his palm on Jongin’s face.

“Don’t get all lovey-dovey on me now.”    

    “But he’s–stop kicking me!”

Jongin’s dream that night was even more bittersweet than it normally was.

That morning, his eyes scanned the sidewalk with an intense gaze as he walked down the street. Jongin made sure to be at the same place, at the same time (he predicted) as when the angel bumped into him yesterday. His thoughts were racing with unanswered questions: What was his name? Why was he here? Did he notice him? Had he been having dreams with him in them? What was his favorite food? Favorite hobby? Favo–He snapped out of it. After waiting for about 10 minutes on the sidewalk, he sighed in disappointment, mostly because of himself. Shaking his head, he opened the door to the store.

Trees, wings, running. Cliff, smile, falling. Screams, flying, gone.

“Dude!” A hand lolled his head side to side on the pillow. “Wake up!” Jongin made a series of groans and mumbles. His eyes squinted against the harsh light streaming down on him. Jongdae’s head peeked into view.

“What time is it?” He croaked. The other pulled out his phone from his pockets and turned it on.

“8:41–” Jongdae was interrupted by a screech of panic. “8:41 on the weekend.” Jongin’s tense shoulders sagged and he dropped his head onto the pillow again.

“Dude, no. Why did you wake me up so damn early.” He buried his head under the covers like an ostrich’s head in the sand.

“Because I was thinking that we could go to the market and get some bread n’ stuff cuz you’ve been down in the mumpy grumps lately after your incident with the dream boy.” He paused dramatically. “Whatdoyouthink.”

Jongin sighed as loudly as possible. “No, Dae. Not up to it. I need sleep. Seeing him was probably a trick of the mind anyway. . .”

“We’ll have fun! Maybe we can even go to the little candy shop they have on the second floor–”

“Huh. Okay. Only if you won’t steal any of my candy.” They shook on it.

So there they were, walking down the market as musicians played at the corners and customers snagged free samples from platters. Jongin’s favorite spot was the candy shop downstairs, so immediately he went there first. The register went ka-ching, and a bagful of Zotz and a king–sized Twix were his to feast on. Jongdae was upstairs getting the bread, so Jongin proceeded to look at the goods on the main floor.

Everything was good, when he spotted a familiar head by the eggplants stand 25 feet from him. Black hair, with what looked to be a lollipop sticking out of his mouth. No. No, it couldn’t be. Jongin found himself being tugged toward the boy, unsure if he was hoping that it was him, but also hoping that it wasn’t. Fifteen feet from the figure, the angel he began moving down the stands in the opposite direction. Should he follow him? Or stay put?

He already knew the answer when the boy looked behind him, eyes gazing over the crowd. For a split second, his eyes glazed over Jongin’s without recognition, and his heart just about leapt out of his chest and onto the ground. This, this was him 100%. The boy’s brown eyes finished observing the mass of people, and he promptly wandered out of the market and into the street across from it. Jongin followed him with eager feet, hope swelling in his chest like a balloon about to burst. The angel’s head bobbed in the streams of people around him while Jongin weaved his way closer, gripping his bag tightly in his fingers. Suddenly, he took a left into a shop with neon yellow signs hung inside. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a tattoo shop. Jongin wondered what a boy like him was doing there. As he opened the store’s door, he realized that of course a boy like he would enter here.

The buzz of a tattoo gun hummed around the shop, and behind the counter the tattoo artist looked up from a red blob being inked on someone’s back. There was no sign of the dream boy anywhere. The tattooer said something along the lines of ‘please wait and I’ll be with you in a moment,’ but Jongin wasn’t listening. He was focused on the door in the back room that had just been slammed closed with a loud thud. That had to be where he was. Without heeding the threats of ‘don’t go back there, sir,’ and ‘what do you think you’re doing,’ he clutched the door knob and wrenched it open while the woman tried to get up from her seat after putting down the needle.

The door revealed a narrow passage going down to a storage room of sorts. As if possessed, Jongin slowly crept down the stairs, locking the door behind him to shield himself from the woman’s nearing footsteps. Sounds that came below him stopped, and the only noise was the sound of shoes on the wooden stairs. There in the darkness seemed to be a glow of cobalt appearing, and slowly, the scene came into full view as he hit the last step.

His angel bathed in electric blue light. All around him on the walls, were the gleam of neon signs. Some were Blue Moon or Open signs, but most in the shape of stars or clouds, the cords wound around a messy bed and nightstand into an outlet in the corner. There he stood facing Jongin, a full mouth of lollipop twisted wryly. Flickering eyes narrowed under inky lashes as the angel met his gaze sharply. His rippling wings were out in complete expansion, the tips almost touching the walls encompassing the small room. The luminescence highlighted every feather, every birthmark, and every ounce of love that Jongin learned to love. To put it simply, Jongin was spellbound.

The boy opened his mouth, and the would ever hear from his lips were