Angels

The only beings I – and everyone for that matter – know that had wings. They were the image of purity, of real happiness, of freedom without constraints, of utter contentment, of love. And the moment the dreams started was when I first began drawing them, finding myself magnetized at how I wanted to capture on paper everything the angels’ innocent beauty had to offer.

It wasn’t their so called angelic faces that had drawn me to them though, it was their wings. A pair of white wings looking softer than cotton, smoother than satin and as mighty as the meaning of being an angel is. The wings were always white though; too white that it was glowing, like nothing could stain its purity, and it makes one wonder what it would take for an angel to have its wings turn to black.

Curiosity must have been the main reason I started to draw him in all his black wings’ glory and his sorrowful eyes. Because no matter how beautiful those white wings were, there was just something about those black wings that made them unforgettable.

And they said black meant emptiness. The color looked more colorful than anything to me.

“Do you believe in the afterlife?”

It wasn’t supposed to be asked loudly, it was supposed to be a personal reflection, but when you’re too caught up in trying to input a vague dream into paper your brain becomes detached from everything else. It made me snort at the weird look I received from Chanyeol though.

“Maybe, but I haven’t been there yet so I don’t know,” was his reply accompanied by a shrug and I blindly nodded because surprisingly, it made sense.

Chanyeol was older than me, but we have been friends and are neighbors since I could remember. He had a pair of huge eyes that could rival mine, ears that looked like elf ears and a height that could have him easily be mistaken as a giant – and walking beside me just makes him look taller than he already is, even when sitting down he’s still a good a head and a half taller than me.

“I believe in past lives though,” Chanyeol added and that made my hand stop for a moment for me to look at him with a brow raised. I wasn’t confused, just amused.

“Reincarnations, for all you know I could have been a King in one of my past lives!” he defended, a smug expression on his face and I couldn’t help but chuckle. “What? I can be a cool king!”

Chanyeol wasn’t the smartest person in our school, but he wasn’t stupid either. If there was one thing he could do best aside from fast rapping and playing instruments, it’s his ability to strategize. His brain works best under pressure, thinking of ways to solve puzzles, or thinking of a way to checkmate his chess opponent, or trying to escape mazes. That alone made the image of Chanyeol being king not hard to imagine, he would have been a great king.

“I know,” I answered and Chanyeol grinned, bumping his shoulder onto mine. He’s also a giant ball of fluff, I forgot.

“What are you drawing?” he asked, peering over my sketchpad. I felt him chuckle.

“Angels again? When are you going to draw other things aside from angels, Soo?”

Chanyeol had called it my personal obsession aside from it being a hobby – to draw angels with black wings. The angel would either be flying grandly across the sky, or resting on a tree branch with his wings folded neatly on his back as his cushion, or is playing in a meadow with his wings almost folding itself on its body as the wind plays with it.

I shrugged, “I draw other things, Yeol.”

“Yeah, like what?”

I closed my sketchpad and looked at him.

“Other… stuff.”

“Like your angel in a suit, or him modeling some clothes, or him enjoying a cup of coffee, or him in anything and everything, just without his precious black wings. Face it Soo, you draw nothing else but your angel.”

“I guess it’s just like what you always say, I have an angel .”

“That or you have a thing for that guy, whoever he is.”

I looked at Chanyeol, both in surprise and confusion. If there’s something to be addicted about angels – if I’m not addicted to angels themselves – it would be their wings, the only things that I could only dream about having. But when I reached home, flipping through my old sketches up to the one I’m currently working on, I ended up laying down drawings of a single man doing almost every little thing people do everyday – only he made it look more intriguing, like he wasn’t even meant to do them yet he is.

I think Chanyeol had a point.

I might have a for the only angel I know with black wings and golden skin who exists only in my dreams.

===============

Patiently waiting

It was something I’ve done so many times I actually lost count. But when you’re waiting for someone who gave your life meaning, it makes it easier to do – may it be hours, days, months, and years… decades. But when memories of happiness haunts every second of your day, you longed to hear that one voice you missed hearing, you hoped to see that one smile to make anything seem brighter, wanting to hold that one hand th