when he found it, he didn't blink.

it was all an accident. wrong place, wrong time. a bored near-closing-time mishap that lead to books falling and a hasty clean up session in the dimming lights of the oil lamps in the book store that haven't been updated since it opened.

he'd been piling them all up after they hit the floor, dusting each one off with his sleeve and adding to the thick layer of dust in the air that made him sniffle. and that's when he saw it. it was the third book in the pile, familiar in a way he didn't come to appreciate. because he'd seen this book before, once. somewhere distant in his childhood he may have held it, touched the pages perhaps, but never had he read the words until this moment.

long gone had been his own copy, lost somewhere in the attic of his home and never uncovered, because his father always had the story written in his notebook. the same notebook his grandfather had it in back before it was printed locally. there must only have been three copies printed, but the whole town knew of the tale. taehyung's grandfather had told them all about it, but his memory was frayed and time was never on their side.

cross legged with his back pressed against a shelf of books, kim taehyung breathed a shaky breath through his mouth and smiled as he read the story that had brought him his angel. he read it, although he didn't need the aid of the words, and ran his thumb against the faded watercolour illustrations of a winged boy sat atop a hill. his jeongguk. his angel.

and when he reached the end he smiled in contempt to himself, ready to close it up and lock up the shop, but, this copy of the book had another page. another page that concluded the story that taehyung had grown up believing was open ended; up for his mind to make up and fantasise about. but that isn't the case, and he rereads the final stanzas until each word feels made up and the letters don't make sounds anymore.

he reads until he doesn't feel anything when he stares at it anymore. until the constant sag in his heart that carries through to his tired limbs finally claims his mind, too.

he hadn't known this story at all.

⠀
⠀
( 💫 )

wordlessly, taehyung places the browning, crumpled book atop jeongguk's knees alongside the daffodil, his eyes warm and fond as he looks upon the wings of the being who once again gets even more ravishing with every year. they curve elegantly behind him, the tips now reaching his lower back and climbing up to the lobes of his ears; radiant with marvellously white feathers that make even the moon fall envious.

"hello, taehyung," jeongguk says carefully, a happy oblivion hanging over his head, the daffodil's stem being handled as though it were a precious jewel when he places it to the side and turns his attention instead to the book.

"hello, jeongguk," taehyung whispers in reply, laying beside him, shutting his eyes as he manages to lift his head long enough to fold his arms behind it; the tingling subsiding through his muscles so that his limbs don't feel so limp and twitchy.

he's rather at peace with the dreamlike state he's confined to now, his energy fleeting like pretty butterflies; born and bred of peace and yet cursed to die so soon after being gifted with life.

or perhaps it isn't a gift at all.

perhaps they, too, are destined for something greater than themselves. perhaps life is only a predecessor to purpose. a stretch before the hurdle, a step before the jump.

"this is it. my favourite fairytale," taehyung says slowly without need to hear jeongguk voice his confusion. "a few months ago, i discovered that there's another part to it that i'd never read before... i thought i might show you, so that you don't wonder why."

jeongguk's face lights up, enthralled with the idea of finally getting to read the story of him and taehyung; a piece of writing dedicated to the magic which had brought them together. his cheeks begin to ache from the wide smile as the words and images all meet his gaze, and he holds the book gently, whispering each word beneath his breath absentmindedly with every sweet inhale and slow exhale.

and when he turns the page to find the end, taehyung feels the sound rip through his chest, and he hears jeongguk's words start to stutter— catch in his throat as the meaning starts to bleed into his mind and suffocate him.

⠀

weak and weaker,
bloom and grow,

he, once an angel,
now has thorns to
show.

and oh, poor village
boy, escape not you
can,

for each sweetened
word brews an even
sweeter plan.

for these wings
divine you must pay
a nasty price

the heart of the
village boy will be
the sacrifice.

⠀

and at the same time as jeongguk reads the final line, taehyung joins along, and they are a melancholy harmony that the trees refuse to dance to, halting in their duet to fall victim to the chilling still of the glade.

taehyung sits upright, taking it slowly because there's no point in disguising the begging cry of his limbs to lay to rest. not anymore.

"i'm... i'm killing you," jeongguk speaks the words in utter disbelief, a pain tied around his tongue that forbids him almost to speak.

the weight in his chest drags down and down, finding his lungs captive and his ribs a chamber to hide away his heart. that which now beats so slowly— a prisoner to the cruelty of life. because it won't let him look away. he has to feel this moment. feel it through all of its torture.

has to look upon the face of a boy so sweet, and know that he's draining it of all that is good.

taehyung doesn't respond, he simply reaches out to caress the soft texture of the angelic wings, eyes wide and adoring, falling harder and harder in love with each delicate feather.

jeongguk cowers away from the touch, eyes watering as he looks at taehyung, and he finally sees the darkness beneath his eyes, the sinking of his skin into his bones— he looks so tired.

it all falls into place.

he's getting weaker— weaker and weaker. every single time taehyung comes to see him, he's being drained. his joyous smile withering away for the benefit only of these godforsaken wings. but jeongguk doesn't want them. not like this. doesn't want them to be a constant reminder of a life he'd sucked dry until all that was left was his own eternal prison disguised as freedom.

"i like them so much," taehyung says in a hushed, soothing whisper. he has tears in his eyes and pain in his chest, for it's an effort he can't manage even to breathe continuously in and out when in the wake of the boy who's killing him in the most beautiful of ways.

jeongguk watches in despair as taehyung caresses his wings, and he knows he can't do this. they have to let each other go. they have to stop this while taehyung still has time to get better. while he still has so much love in his heart and laughter in his lungs. while he still has the chance to prosper and find new love in a person who can be there every day of the year, not just one. to fall for someone who can fall back in a way that won't cause him such hurt inside of his chest.

taehyung calls him an angel, but jeongguk? he's no angel. he's a monster.

"i've always... been afraid i'd be stuck in the bookstore forever. wouldn't find a purpose... something to change my life— other people's lives," taehyung begins to ramble, not drawing his eyes from the hold of the wings that he's helped to grow through the purest of love. "i... i've never been afraid of death, though, jeongguk. only have i ever feared dying a person who has no mark to make on the world. maybe... maybe this is it. maybe this is my purpose. you. it was... always you, after all."

"i..." jeongguk searches for any words he can use to deter the boy from what he's obviously now come to terms with. "i don't want to hurt you, taehyung. i'm hurting you right now and i can't... i... please, please forget me. forget the story, the wings, the willow, the daffodils— i won't do this to you. i c-can't."

"forget you?" taehyung begins with something reminiscent of a laugh. "i see you when i close my eyes, my angel. blushing and gorgeous in the moonlight. your wings are going to be the most splendid things to ever descend from heaven. and you're going to carry me up the willow tree using them, aren't you? you're not going to forget about our promise, hm? gonna be with the stars, forever? like morning won't ever come?"

"t-taehyung..." jeongguk whispers. he doesn't want to imagine never seeing taehyung again. he doesn't want to imagine him weak and dying, giving every last breath to cause him to flourish when the only person he's ever wanted to flourish for is the boy that's losing himself. "don't... don't call me an angel."

"you didn't know, jeongguk," taehyung smiles wistfully despite the watering of his eyes, and he takes the angel's hands amongst his own. "you didn't know."

they sit in a silence that manages somehow to be comfortable, then, despite the tears, and the lingering of morning on the horizon. because time is never on their side. and it won't ever be. because jeongguk can feel the way taehyung's head lies on his shoulder like it's the only thing keeping him from slipping into unconsciousness.

"we're going to be okay," taehyung whispers, eyelids heavy, fighting the urge he has to fall off into another nap (something that's become commonplace just so he has the energy to make it through the day).

and when jeongguk feels the time coming that they must part ways again, he presses a kiss to taehyung's lips instead of his cheek, sweet and longing. as though it were sealing their promise to one another, making sure that jeongguk would one day carry taehyung to the top of the willow tree.