By the way, I ought to let you know. The equator peeled off when I let you go.

the cafe/the park

It was only two days after they kissed that Niall saw Harry. It was three in the morning and he was sitting at a cafe, his cup of coffee there to help him stay awake. He was staring at the bitter drink when Harry slipped in from the opposite side.

No wings, he noticed. Harry had no wings on his back and no winged charm around his neck in the shape of a necklace. "Where are they?" He asked.

He looked up and saw the dark circles around Harry's eyes, like he hadn't been able to sleep properly in years, though he saw him just two days ago. His eyes were a dull color, his lips chapped but beautiful nonetheless. His skin didn't look as bright as it always did. Niall took a sip of his drink to sooth the ache in his throat that came with panic. "Got stripped of them," Harry said almost too slowly.

"What do you mean stripped of your wings?"

"I mean I broke a law and I-" He paused to breathe, his voice coming out hoarse. Niall heard how broken he sounded. "And I didn't deserve to be one of them." He leaned over the cushion under his back but sat up quickly with a wince. Niall imagined there to be two curvilinear lines bleeding and big where his wings used to come from.

"Ask for forgiveness and never come down. Get your wings back."

"I can't just take them back, and definitely not under those circumstances. They're gone. For good, I feel it in my blood and my hands. I feel the loss in my bones and feel the weakness behind my eyes. I can only get them back if I have something left of them," He choked out quietly. "I have nothing, Niall. I feel like nothing."

"I have a feather."

Harry looked up, his dull eyes reaching Niall's bright blue ones. "What?"

"A feather. Took it when we were ten."

"You were ten. I was ten and a-"

Niall fought the urge to push Harry's hair back. "Took it when we were ten," he interrupted.

"And you still have it?"

Niall reached into the pocket of his heavy jacket and pulled out the lovely, bright white feather. "Keep it with me everywhere I go."

Harry thanked him, stood to his feet, put a hand over Niall's wrist, pulled him to his feet, kissed him quickly on his lips, and turned slowly. "Let's go."

"Where?"

"My wings."

&&

"This is a park," Niall mumbled, kicking the dead leaves and looking up at the dark sky. The moon was bright and he was cold, but he knew how important it was for Harry to get back what belonged to him.

Harry walked to the further left where everything was secluded and Niall followed behind; a safe distance away. He cupped the feather that Niall had given him, cupping it with the palms of his hands before bringing it to his mouth. Niall watched his jaw move, and knew he was whispering.

With one final word, Harry let the feather go, and Niall broke out into a sprint toward him, making them both stumble back.

"Hey, that was my fucking feather. Why would you do that? That was my lucky feather. That doesn't belong to-"

"Why is it turning black?"

He turned to the feather that was still flying in the wind. It was turning black; the edges seeming to fade into the dark color and covering the middle area. His mouth dropped open and his eyes were kept on it, fingers frozen on Harry's chest.

Harry fell forward and Niall's eyes softened. He let him go and watched as he fell to his knees.

"No," Harry whimpered a little. "No, no."

It sounded a little like he was crying. Niall lowered himself to his knees and noticed the sweat beading on his forehead, reaching down to pull his shirt over his head. Harry's eyes widened. "Hey, what's wrong? What do I need to do?"

He shook his head and his shaking hands reached his back, using his fingers to try to pull at his skin. Niall looked at Harry's back at what looked like dark veins coming from the thin skin. He cursed under his breath before touching it, feeling something and pulling it from the bleeding wounds. "What the-" he looked down at the item and saw that it was a black feather; a soft, beautiful thing.

Harry's hand locked around Niall's wrist and his eyes watered. His lips quivered and Niall shook his head.

"Don't do that. You don't cry, you told me that. You don't have weaknesses. People like you don't have weaknesses."

"Black," he choked out between strangled breaths. Harry's fingers fell to his sides and he turned, stuffing his head between the crook of Niall's neck. He let out a sob and Niall shook his head because this wasn't suppose to happen. He held onto Harry and looked down at his bleeding back as black feathers started growing from his skin. "Not black," he whimpered.

Niall felt his own eyes burn. "Why are they black?"

"Not my wings anymore," Harry answered, voice stricken with pain. He felt his fingers dig into his biceps. "Not mine. They're black and not white and not pure and not for angels, and they're not my wings, Niall."

"Make them yours."

Harry shook his head before leaning back and clawing at his back. He stood and dug his nails into the skin, forcing his hands to reach something behind him. He was crying the whole way through and Niall just stared at the disdain in front of him. He wanted to help but didn't know how. "Get them off of me!" He yelled loudly.

"My fault," Niall whispered to himself. Harry's eyes reached his with too much sadness and regret and misery. "It is, isn't it?"

He looked away and struggled to rip the oncoming wings from his back, but they kept growing back and getting longer and longer and they were so black and beautiful, but that was Niall's opinion. Everything looked beautiful on Harry. "Get them off of me! Tragikí eínai i zoí mou!"

"This is my fault. It was me. You fell in love with me and this is what happened. Fuck." Niall stood and ran over to him, wiping his face to seem stronger than he really was.

He took Harry's hands and forced them up, locking his wrists in his hands. "Tragic is my life."

"Look at me," Niall demanded. "Your life is not tragic because you found someone. Don't do that shit, okay? You can't help that."

Harry shook his head too quickly. "I don't want this."

"Don't want what? The wings? The wings are yours, Harry. They belong to you. They're black, yes. Not white like they were before, but this is what you have now and you can't change that."

"You don't get it. I've fallen. I'm not one of them anymore."

"Was it any better before?"

There was a thick, lingering silence until Harry answered. His wings had grown into these large extensions on his back, the glistening feathers amazing Niall. They were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen on Harry.

"No."