𝗺𝘂𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗺.

⠀angel

jeongguk helps taehyung walk up the hill today, his arm slung over his shoulder to stop the wobbling of his legs, and he lets taehyung lay his head in his lap when they come to rest on the hill, the angel braiding little plaits into the human's hair and undoing them again repeatedly.

again and again.

(you look like calm when the world is on fire.)

it's a relaxed sort of rhythm that he doesn't need to think about. after some time, his fingers just get used to the motions, over and over, dragging out each second for as long as it can last.

"i think some part of me hoped you wouldn't come back to see me," the winged being whispers guiltily, eyes trained on the horizon. the moon tells them that they have so much time left, but he knows it'll never be enough to make up for the fracture in taehyung's heart. "but that same part ached so badly at the thought of not seeing you. i feel so selfish, taehyung. i feel so selfish to want to hold you here like this when i know that no matter what i do, you'll never heal beside me."

taehyung opens his eyes slowly to look up at jeongguk from the pillow of his lap. the angel's legs are warm, and the cloth covering his pelvis lays so soft and smooth beneath taehyung's weary head. he could drift off right here and he'd be content if he'd remain in that sleeping state forever like this.

(forever: eternal slumber, met only by dreams of you. every second, just a melody of all the time we'd have to be beside one another. i could be the composer, and you, my dancer. i'd watch you twirl on and on at the will of my call and never would i tire of the way your wings ( bedded of silver and the envy of the seraph's ) basked in the spotlight.

you, an angel, pure of heart and even purer of soul ( there is no bad blood in your heart, darling ) a celestial body that moves in ways that i gladly come to be enthralled with.

let them write about us like gods. they can make us into a tragedy, or tell it as we know it to be. they can romanticise every word like troubled poets and make us seem as though we are two who may be forbidden from the embrace of the others skin.

a modern day romeo and juliet, they might call us. but death is unavoidable in our case, my dear. for me to be near you is for me to drink the poison. but gladly i'll drink, angel. for without you, there is no air worth breathing).

"so tell me why it is that i feel my healthiest here in your arms?" the human queries, with the smug smile that lets jeongguk know that he's never going to win. "i found something last week. a book."

worry brews in jeongguk's tummy like he's going to be given more bad news. even the thoughtful reserve of taehyung's deep mahogany stare can't calm the anxieties that start to crop up in his head. he just wants for taehyung to tell him it's been a joke all this time, that they can continue to see each other and that he's been to a doctor. that the end of the tale was all a lie and that the version that taehyung grew up loving still exists. that his sickness is caused by something curable.

"it's a good book. it taught me so much about us and the way we look at things."

this gets jeongguk to listen more willingly. but there's not enough change in taehyung's tone for this to be the beginning of a speech about a possible remedy for wilting lungs and failing breaths.

"mutualism," taehyung starts, an air of hope cascading down in pools of excess moonlight that catch in taehyung's hair, his eyes. they paint him i flares of silver and wisps of white, all crashing together like the angry waves onto the shore; a masterpiece of things better left alone. "it's when two organisms exist in a relationship in which they both benefit from the activity of one another."

jeongguk ponders on this for a few moments, his doubt, taehyung's fixation on how reassuring this is, and the reality between them all comes mixing together on his mind and really it's quite suffocating, but nothing (he imagines) alike the restriction taehyung must feel on his chest to make his breathing stutter like that.

jeongguk is built only of guilt in this moment.

"but, taehyung, only i am benefitting from this. this is not mutualism— this is parasitism. i am a parasite," the boy pleads, every hollow word filled to the brim with unshed tears that the weeping angel would cry should he lose his will to stay strong.

why can't taehyung grow to hate him for the venom he's injecting into his bloodstream with his uncertain words? at least then he could live with just a section of the pain he's making the boy endure.

"you forget, darling, that these wings aren't a symbol of what's lost, but a reminder of my own prosperity. i was dealt a rough set of cards, yes, but you told me my fate the moment you asked for my name, jeongguk. you told me that my meaning starts, and my meaning ends, with you. on your back now, forever, will be a symbol of the love we shared in this place. we're both gaining from this arrangement. mutually."

"there's nothing i can say that'll— you won't stop coming here, will you?" jeongguk asks in a whisper.

"i'd still have come here on the first night we met if i had known the whole story from the beginning, jeongguk. i don't think you understand. a piece of me will live on forever in you. and i'll be beautiful, then. i'll be free, then. and you will be the most envied creature in the sky. my beautiful angel."

parasite, jeongguk thinks. i am a parasite.