Junhong towered over the multitudes of heads in the subway station. He felt awkward and out of place; he was a gangly teenager amongst of sea of average height adults.

            Moving with grace across the crowd, he found a spot close to the door. He gave furtive glances towards the crowd again, with hope that he’d see the wide smile of the boy he’d met seven years ago. But hope is just a four letter word, and Junhong quickly forgot its meaning, opting instead to fiddle with his headphones that had become tangled in the confinement of his pockets.

What had once been a maze to him, was like a second home. The teenager easily recognized the colored arrows and numbers, each a simple guide to his next destination. He scoffed at himself, letting the puff of air escape his lips, as he remembered his delirious panic when he had become separated from his mother.

            Back then he had needed a beacon to light his way back, but today Junhong could navigate his way through the subway blindfolded. Years of going to school and soccer practice, as well as friends’ houses or hangout spots had made him king of the underground. And yet with every day he spent below ground, he couldn’t help but scan the crowd for a pair of kind eyes or silver wings.

            Junhong scowled as he felt his thumb get caught between the rubber tangles of his headphones. Distracted, he barely noticed the subtle ebb and flow of commuting passengers as the train had come to a stop.

            “Woah.” Junhong breathed, looking up frantically from his pocket. He was plastered against the safety glass, waiting for passengers to exit before he could coolly slip himself in.

            Then he saw him.

            It was a quick moment; a blink in that moment would have caused the teen to miss him completely. The shimmering silver paint on the man’s black hoodie caught Junhong’s eye and he instantly forgot about getting on the train. His heart dropped like a stone. He knew he had to chase the man down.

            “Yong-!” Junhong called out but was cut off by impatient travelers who pushed past him to get into the car.

            The teenager felt frozen in place, his eyes desperately following the angel as he moved like mist through the crowds. He flailed momentarily, feeling his senses sharpen. In a flash he was moving again, his heart pounding against his chest as he strenuously made his way towards Yongguk. He was sure it was him. No one else he knew had a faint silver glow about them, red Beat by Dr Dre headphones, and a black hoodie with angel wings. 

            Junhong tried to get Yongguk’s attention by calling out to him but his throat felt dry and clenched. He was afraid of losing Yongguk again. The tall teen tried to make his way as quickly as possible without alarming anyone by suspiciously running like a madman. He knew people would panic if it seemed like he was running from something.

            The chase continued in absolute silence. Junhong was always a few paces behind the angel, always blocked by unsuspecting travelers going about their daily business. It frustrated him. He tried to reach out and touch the soft black fabric, but it seemed Yongguk was always on the move, only momentarily stopping as if he felt Junhong’s presence, but refused to look back.

            Junhong cleared his throat, trying to moisturize it so that he could speak. In his moment of inattention, he tripped over luggage, landing on annoyed passerbys who couldn’t help but shove him off of them, causing him to fall flat on his . Pain shot through his spine, pinching his brain with a throbbing headache. He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the stunned faces of people who had witnessed his fall. His heart was racing too fast and adrenaline was coursing through his veins, tunneling his vision so that he could only focus on Yongguk.

            Only he had lost sight of the angel.

            He stood with his mouth open, using his height at his advantage again to scour the area for Yongguk. There was no sign of him anywhere. Junhong felt like he was ten again, tiny and vulnerable, his body shaking with despair. Frustrated, Junhong ran his hands through his hair, feeling dry tears sting his eyes.

            He felt silly, like an overgrown baby. Shaking his head, Junhong rolled his shoulders back and prepared to regain his route back to the train.

            Before he could turn around, his eye caught sight of a silver glow that faintly illuminated the abandoned portion of the Seoul subway. Since Junhong had begun to reign the underground, he had not once ventured into this forbidden part. He knew of it, of course, it was the only part of the metro that didn’t have glass doors that prevented passionate acts of defiance or horrendous suicides. He knew of the uneven pavement, cracked by years of neglect. He knew of the old yellow lights that flickered to reveal worn walls with dull colors and the fading number ten. But more alarmingly, Junhong knew of the demons and tortured ghosts that roamed the tracks. And despite the urban legends and the popularity of the abandoned line as a suicide spot, the authorities had decided to do nothing about it. They had simply put up yellow police tape, hoping it would deter young and impressionable venturers.

            Determined to speak to Yongguk again, Junhong shoved his way past the crowd until he reached the entrance of line ten. The yellow tape had been ripped, so Junhong didn’t have to do it and feel the weight of guilt on his conscious. The teenager scuttled forward, trying to ignore the heavy thumping of his heart against his ribs.

            “Yongguk. It’s me. Your friend, Junhong.” Junhong swallowed thickly. “You saved my life, remember?”

            Suddenly the angel stopped moving. His hood fell to his shoulders, but he didn’t turn around. Junhong felt an invisible hand twist his insides. What if this wasn’t Yongguk?

            The tense moment was broken when Yongguk turned around, revealing his peaceful face. Junhong exhaled audibly, and almost laughed nervously. He wasn’t sure if he should go up and hug the angel or what. Maybe Yongguk was more into fist bumps? 

            Junhong drew his lips into a wide smile and was about to speak when he noticed Yongguk wore a rather confused look on his face. Although his eyes were calm, there was no smile on Yongguk’s face, no sign that recognized the teen.

            “You…you don’t remember me?” Junhong felt his heart drop like a stone.

            “Are you lost?” Yongguk’s deep voice penetrated deep within the thick stone walls and surrounded Junhong.

            “No.”

            “I only guide those who are lost.” Yongguk said robotically.

            “But don’t you recognize me?” Junhong asked desperately.

            “Are you here to deliver me?” Yongguk asked in the same stoic tone.

            “Deliver? I can if you want. Tell me how I can set you free.” Junhong was wildly spluttering empty promises. He had no idea how he would free this trapped angel, after all, Junhong knew close to nothing about Yongguk’s past. He wasn’t even sure how old Yongguk was. (Although Junhong guessed he couldn’t be more than thirty-nine years old because that was how old the subway was).

            The angel smirked and turned around briskly, breaking into a run.

            “Wait!” Junhong gasped, reaching out for Yongguk. Without thinking, he ran after the angel, tripping over the uneven surface.

            “Wait…” Junhong had long lost sight of Yongguk, but another sight intrigued him. Although the sting from his encounter with Yongguk had turned his mood sour, he decided to investigate.

            Along the void where the trains passed, a boy paced nervously. He would sometimes lose his footing and stumble, nearly falling onto the tracks. Junhong’s stomach lurched when the boy swayed a little too dangerously towards the chasm.

            “Hey!” Curiosity, rather than fear, overtook the teen who slowly approached the other boy. There was no glow about him, he seemed mortal.

            Very mortal, in fact. The boy was perhaps a year or two older than Junhong. His almond eyes were wide with fear and vulnerability. His cheeks, which may have at one time been fuller, were sunken in and grey. The boy would have been quite pretty, Junhong thought, was he not emaciated and unwashed. His hair, which had highlights of lighter brown that reflected in the piss yellow light of the old lamps, was tousled and matted.

            Junhong noticed that the young man was trembling.

            “Woah. Hey, I’m Junhong. What’s your name?” Junhong spilled. He noticed how dangerously close the boy was to the edge of the platform.

            “Please go away.”

            “Not until you tell me your name.”

            “Why do you care?” The man spat. If poison could have a sound it would sound like that, Junhong thought.

            “I’m just curious. I’m also worried you’ll get hurt.” Junhong added, nervously eyeballing the boy.

            The young man laughed. “No one ing cares about me. Stop pretending to be worried.”

            Junhong bit his lip to keep from uttering an unmanly squeak as the teen proceeded to sway dangerously again.

            “Seriously.” Junhong tiptoed closer. “No, dude. I do care. Please. Come here so we can talk about this.”

            “If you cared about me, you’d respect my choice.” The man snarled. “Now leave.”

            “I won’t.” Junhong stated. “This is public property. Besides, if you want me to respect your choice, you could at least tell me why you’re making it.”

            The young man stopped pacing. He eyed Junhong with anger at first, but it was soon replaced by the same despair Junhong had seen earlier.

            “My name’s Youngjae.” The stranger sobbed. “I’m scared.”

            Junhong frowned. “Youngjae. What are you afraid of?”

            “I’m scared I’ll never find my way back, you know, to who I was before.” Youngjae swallowed so thickly, Junhong could almost feel the spit trickle down his own throat.  “I’m terrified because no one seems to want to fix me. There’s no one in the world I could turn to.”

            “Youngjae…” Junhong stepped forward some more.

            “I ed up.” Youngjae sighed. “I wanted to be someone I’m not. I wanted to get out of this ing skin.” Tears like shards of glass ran down his face as he scratched his  arm, drawing crimson lines.

            “What made you change?” Junhong stopped coming forward. He gingerly sat down, inviting Youngjae to do the same. He watched with amazement as the troubled teenager lowered his body and mimicked Junhong. He sat cross-legged, facing Junhong, but still dangerously close to the ledge. There was a giant gap between the two, and Junhong suddenly wished he had maybe stepped a little bit closer.

            “Just the pressure of fitting in.” Youngjae trembled more, trying hard to contain his tears. “I tried to be someone I’m not. I’m lost and I just want to feel like myself again. I want…too many things.”

            “It’s okay to want these things.” Junhong said, although he thought it was pretty lame.

            “Why are you helping me?” Youngjae looked up suddenly.

            “Because I care.” Junhong let the sentence hang in the air before recalling what Yongguk had said to him ten years back. “Besides, it’s a scary world out here. On your own. I…I know what it’s like to be lost.”

            Youngjae shot Junhong an inquisitive glare.

            “Long story.” Junhong added quickly. “But someone helped me out of it, Youngjae. All it takes is a little kindness and trust, what do you say?” Junhong knew he had never had any troubles like Youngjae was facing. The teen had only ever been physically lost, but he figured that being emotionally lost was not much different. He could almost taste the anguish and indecision coming off of Youngjae as he struggled to find himself again. It was the same hopeless feeling that had gnawed at Junhong’s heart when he watched those glass doors cut him off, in that moment he felt very much alone, very vulnerable, and impossibly disoriented.

            “I’ve got a lot of problems, Junhong.” Youngjae started.

            Junhong nodded. He didn’t want to speak in fear of interrupting a much needed spill on Youngjae’s part. He set his hands in his lap and tried to ignore the growing shadow behind Youngjae. He couldn’t be sure if he was imagining it, but it seemed like there was definitely darkness spreading behind the young man.

            “A lot of demons haunting me.” Youngjae continued. He fidgeted and shrugged his shoulders. “I struggled a lot with anorexia.” Youngjae laughed nervously. “Of course, who could I tell? Who would believe me? Only girls struggle with…with that.”

            Junhong nodded. He didn’t want to seem apathetic, but he had no other way of expressing his interest. It didn’t seem to faze Youngjae much, it seemed the youngster was relieved to simply be able to unleash his bottled up secrets.

            “Well. I did it because everyone kept telling me I was fat.” Youngjae paused. The shadow, which had seemed to be receding until Youngjae’s pause, was beginning to creep on his shoulder as if to whisper in his ear. “This is stupid.”

            “Wait what.”

            “This is stupid.” Youngjae repeated. “Why am I wasting my time? Telling you this isn’t going to change the fact that I have to return to a crowd of judgmental ers. I don’t want to go back. Ever. So thanks for caring Junhong, but I really can’t stay.”

            “Youngjae, no! You have the power to turn your life around!” Junhong scrambled to his feet, only now realizing how much he towered over Youngjae. “Trust me, you can meet new people, make friends with people who value you for who you are.” Even as he said those words, he couldn’t believe it. When did he get so wise?

            “No one will ever care for me, Junhong! They all get sick of me eventually.”

            “You’re wrong. Step away from the ledge, I promise we can make things right.”

            Something was terribly wrong. The shadow was beginning to consume Youngjae. Junhong wanted desperately to step back, but he was already so far from Youngjae. If he ever had to make a desperate dive to catch the boy, he feared he’d be too short.

            “It was real nice knowing you.” Youngjae smirked. His pupils were fully dilated, until his eyes were near pitch black. He wore a large skeletal grin and tilted his head to the left. At first, Junhong didn’t know why Youngjae was nodding in that direction but he then heard the sound of an incoming train.

            “Youngjae don’t listen to them! Your demons are confusing you. They want nothing but harm for you.”

            “They speak the truth!” Youngjae raised his voice. Veins shot up his neck as he strained his anger.

            “Step away from the ledge.” Junhong warned. His palms were sweaty and his breathing was shallow. There was no way he would watch another human being die before him. He thought back to the time Yongguk had rescued him, how he had reassured him. Surely it had been easier to handle a crying kid than a suicidal teenager, but Junhong understood that maybe Yongguk had brought him here for a reason. Maybe he had to put to the test what Yongguk had taught him. Even in the brevity of their friendship, Junhong had taken a lot away from that day.

            But Junhong was no angel. He couldn’t fight these demons. They were not his. 

            “I can’t do this anymore.”

            “Yes you can! Youngjae, you alone have to fight your demons. But that doesn’t mean you can’t get help.”

            Youngjae shook his head slowly. Tears began streaking down his face as the black shadow seemed to roar with victorious laughter behind him. Youngjae’s right foot dangled over the edge and he blinked twice.

            “Youngjae, you said you trusted me.” Junhong said urgently. “Do you still?” He out his hand for Youngjae to take.

            The older teen looked thoroughly confused, the shadow behind him was writhing as he struggled to overcome the conception that he was not entirely lost.

            Junhong wasn’t sure what overcame him, but he shot out quickly and reached for Youngjae’s hand, yanking the thin boy away from edge. The older teen toppled over Junhong, and they both lay on the ground in a stunned moment as the subway passed rapidly through the abandoned line, on its way to a glass protected platform, unsuspecting of what could have happened.

            “Damn it!” Youngjae struggled to his feet and watched as the train sped off.

            Junhong was still a bit shell-shocked, but he watched Youngjae collapse by the side of the rails, sobbing. Youngjae was gasping for air as he was beginning to calm down.

            Junhong watched with an aching heart as Youngjae cursed him for delaying his death. But the angry words slowly turned into soft whimpers and Junhong let his eyes wander around the empty platform. A silver shimmer caught his attention and he realized it was Yongguk. Had he been here the whole time? Out of the darkness, Junhong could distinguish Yongguk’s large smile and crinkled eyes as he seemed to be silently thanking the teen. When Junhong blinked, Yongguk was nothing but a silver trail of dust sparkling faintly in the obscurity, scattering in the hot subway air.

            Knowing he’d probably never get an answer, Junhong decided to settle next to Youngjae. He sat with his legs crossed, pulling the older teen in his arms and holding him as the last of tears trickled down his cheeks.

            “What do you say we get you home?” Junhong, who was once a total stranger to Youngjae, was holding him close and whispering encouraging words into his ear.

            “Thank you.”

…

            “Looks like they found the missing boy.” Youngjae held up the iPad and pointed to an emboldened title. 

            Almost two months had passed since Junhong had saved Youngjae’s life, and the pair had become good friends. 

            “Lemme see.” Junhong put down his Gatorade and grabbed the tablet.

            “They only found his bones…I mean, it’s been over twenty years. Pretty gross if you ask me.” Youngjae shoved a bagel bite in his mouth, realizing that that could have been him. “Can’t believe it took them that long.”

            “Yeah…” Junhong’s heart felt like it was being squeezed by a snake as he laid eyes on a picture of Yongguk as a child next to the picture of his remains hidden in the crevice of the subway tracks in platform ten. 

            “Poor guy. I bet his soul’s finally at peace.” Youngjae chewed thoughtfully. “I heard he haunted the place.”

            “You know why he died?” Junhong asked.

            “Yeah. Says in the article he got lost when his mom abandoned him.” Youngjae took a sip of water. “Real harsh woman that one. Didn’t even wanna be interviewed.”

            Junhong said nothing. He simply lowered his eyes back to the article, his gaze fixed on the forever smiling photo of a young Yongguk.  

            “Thank you.” He whispered so that Youngjae wouldn’t hear.