when we had wings
Angel AU. Leeteuk remembers when they both had wings, even if Kangin doesn’t.
Pairings: Kangteuk, mentions of Yunjae
Rated: PG-15 for disturbing drama, some injury/death, romance
WARNING: BIBLICAL REFERENCES AND HOMOSEXUALITY.
*
Youngwoon is eight years old the first time he sees Leeteuk.
(At least, that’s what Youngwoon thinks. Leeteuk knows better, just as he knows that not too far in the future, Youngwoon will tell his friends to call him Kangin. Strength, the name means, benevolence, and Youngwoon-Kangin will never know why he feels such a link to this name.)
The boy is lying awake on his side in the bed he shares with his brother, his pillow pressed over his ears in an attempt to muffle his parents’ raised voices from downstairs-the sound seeps in through the closed door like poisonous vapor. His parents argue and scream and fight all the time these days, and Youngwoon sniffles quietly, tears trailing sideways across his cheeks and soaking his hair. Jongwoon opens one eye blearily, reaching out to squeeze his younger brother’s shoulder in weary comfort, before drifting back to sleep.
Moonlight spills through the windows, and Youngwoon is distracted briefly by how the shadows of branches dance across the floor. Then, suddenly, a shadow falls across the silver beams and Youngwoon looks up to see a-boy? young man? it’s hard to tell his age-dressed all in white, silver wings still unfurled. They stare at each other in shock for a few long breathless moments, before the winged boy takes a tentative step towards him.
With a soft gasp, Youngwoon jerks back, staring with wide fearful eyes. Jongwoon murmurs something incomprehensible in his sleep and shifts, but doesn’t wake. The other boy has eyes of deep brown sprinkled with gold flecks, anxiety showing in those depths as he kneels, ever so slowly, trying to show Youngwoon without words that he won’t hurt him. (He’s not sure what language Youngwoon-Kangin speaks, this time around.)
Just as slowly, Youngwoon sits up cautiously, careful not to wake his brother. (His dark eyes are filled with the childish innocence that Leeteuk has seen lost among the years too many times.) He regards the other boy with a mixture of fear and genuine curiosity. “Who are you?” he asks softly.
“My name is Leeteuk,” he says carefully, searching for that rare flash of recognition in Youngwoon’s eyes. That feeling when he sees that Youngwoon still knows something, only to have it slip through his thoughts like water through cupped hands, is the only thing that keeps him hoping (he knows he shouldn’t). This time, though, Youngwoon’s eyes remain impassive. (Leeteuk watches his own fingers tremble slightly with disappointment.)
Youngwoon cocks his head to the side, growing more at ease in Leeteuk’s presence. “Have we met before?” he asks, predictably (and Leeteuk forces down the tears because this Youngwoon-Kangin doesn’t know).
Leeteuk shakes his head. “No,” he answers, completely dishonestly (because even in this life, he’s been here before to watch Youngwoon-Kangin sleep, to watch over him). He opens his mouth to say something else, but an angry shout echoes from downstairs and Youngwoon flinches, hugging the pillow to his chest. Leeteuk wants, more than anything, to be able to wipe the heartbroken look from Youngwoon’s young face as easily as brushing off water (as easily as he used to). Instead, he stands slowly, watching Youngwoon carefully to make sure he’s not startling him.
Youngwoon lets Leeteuk tuck him in again, tears prickling-hot and burning-in his eyes. “Go back to sleep,” Leeteuk whispers, daring to brush his lips across Youngwoon’s forehead. The boy nods, sleepily, and before long his eyes close, long lashes almost brushing his cheek. Leeteuk lets his hands linger on Youngwoon for a heartbeat longer, before standing and gliding, whisper-soft, to the door. He looks back at Youngwoon, his face utterly peaceful and angelic (Leeteuk almost laughs at the irony) in his sleep.
Leeteuk swallows, unevenly, whispering the spells under his breath. The rules are clear; no human is ever allowed to see an Angel for what they truly are.
Youngwoon will not remember this night.
The door clicks shut behind Leeteuk, and the memory fades from Youngwoon’s mind like stars touched by the first rays of dawn. Leeteuk knows he should not meddle with human lives-especially something as life-changing as this-but something tugs insistently inside him, telling him that this family was not meant to break.
(Downstairs, the argument dies down; the adults look at each other with new eyes, and apologize.)
Leeteuk does not return for seven years.
*
“You don’t belong here, weakling!”
Kangin swallowed his fear with difficulty, listening as the jeering shouts came closer to where he hid, crouched behind a bush with golden leaves in the Gardens. His name meant strength, meant benevolence, but he always felt like he couldn’t live up to it.
“You’ll never be like us. Stop pretending!”
He heard the pounding footsteps on the gravel paths come closer, before fading away into silence. Heart pounding, he breathed out a shaky sigh of relief, which quickly turned into a frightened squeak as someone grabbed him roughly from behind.
Mahogany wings fluttered rapidly as Kangin struggled against the older girl’s grip. She sneered, her pretty face distorted in an expression of disgust. “Well,” she drawled. “Look what we have here.” An older boy dropped down by her, landing with a grace that Kangin wished he could have someday. Being the youngest of the Angels on this side of the City, he was clumsier and weaker than the rest-a fact that led to him often being picked on.
The girl tossed him to the ground carelessly. Kangin tried to suppress his shiver of fear as she and the boy closed in around him, his wings attempting to shield his body from whatever was coming. “You don’t belong with us,” the girl told him placidly, a humorless smile curving her full lips.
“That’s right,” the tall boy agreed calmly. “You know what we do to anyone who doesn’t belong here?” His smile turned malicious as he stepped closer and ran a hand across Kangin’s wings. Kangin flinched and curled in on himself, unable to stop the tremors of terror from shaking his body.
“Please,” he whispered, his heart pounding painfully against his ribs. “Don’t.”
The other boy grinned maniacally, reaching out for Kangin’s wings-
-and was knocked off his feet by a blur of silver. He scrambled to his feet, looking at Kangin’s savior with fearful eyes, before turning and fleeing from the Gardens. The girl stood her ground, plastering an expression of doe-eyed innocence on her face.
Kangin’s savior turned to face the girl fully, keeping his tensed body between her and Kangin, and Kangin saw that it was Leeteuk, four hundred years old to Kangin’s two hundred and one of the Guardians that watched over humans before they came to Heaven. His silver wings were still outstretched, casting a protective shadow across Kangin. The younger boy couldn’t see Leeteuk’s face, but he could guess the expression on it when Leeteuk spoke, his normally-warm voice flat and laced with steel.
“I do not want to see you doing this again. Not to Kangin, not to anyone. Am I understood?”
Her pout became even more pronounced. “But Leeteuk-”
He cut her off, his voice dangerously soft. “Am I understood?”
She gulped, a flicker of fear crossing her features for the first time, and nodded.
Leeteuk watched her with impassive brown-and-gold eyes. “Leave,” he ordered-there really was no other word for that tone of voice-“Now.”
She nodded again, trembling now, before turning and fleeing the same way the boy had gone minutes earlier.
When she was out of sight, Leeteuk finally relaxed his tense posture, folding his wings in and turning to kneel at Kangin’s side. “Kangin,” he murmured softly, reaching out hesitantly. His hand brushed against Kangin’s wings, still shielding most of his face, and he winced when Kangin flinched at the contact. “Are you all right?” he asked softly, gently laying a hand on Kangin’s shoulder.
“Y-yes,” Kangin stammered. He was still trembling under Leeteuk’s light touch, and the older boy felt another rush of anger towards the two Angels he had just effectively frightened away.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Leeteuk said-promised, and helped Kangin to his feet.
(Neither of them knew it, but it would be the last time Leeteuk protected Kangin. As Kangin grew older and stronger, he no longer needed Leeteuk to protect him, something Leeteuk had always complained about, at least until Kangin was no longer there for him and Leeteuk realized just how much he needed Kangin.)
*
Summers are boring, but Youngwoon (known among his friends as Kangin) decides this isn’t the worst summer he’s ever suffered through.
It’s still rather boring, though. Jongwoon’s off at music camp, where Kangin hears he’s already earned the nickname of Yesung from friends who admire his voice and talent, and their parents decided to take a private trip to the beach, leaving Kangin at home by himself for a week and a half.
He’s out messing around in the park with his friends when he sees him for the first time, a thin pale young man in a blue hoodie leaning against the trunk of a tree, silver earrings in the shape of crosses dangling from his ears. When their eyes meet, Kangin feels a strange jolt inside him, as if something’s urging him to meet this boy. (Is that a flicker of interest he sees in those eyes?)
Kangin stops what he’s doing, about to walk over to the other boy, but Donghae runs up behind him and tackles him in a characteristically-childish hug, effectively breaking the spell that has settled over him. “Hyung,” Donghae singsongs.
“Donghae yah, don’t strangle him,” Hyukjae says, laughing.
Out of the corner of his eye, Kangin sees the pale boy turn and leave the park, quickly disappearing into the throng of people on the streets.
“Hyung, what’cha looking at?” Shindong asks.
Kangin shakes himself. “Nothing. Race you guys to the swingset!” He races off, letting the wind chase away thoughts of brown-and-gold eyes.
When they all settle down again, Donghae and Hyukjae start discussing their refined plan for breaking into the school, and Kangin listens halfheartedly. He doesn’t want to join in, but they’re the only friends he has and he doesn’t want to disappoint them. Fleetingly, he feels guilty, but he pushes it away and tells himself that there’s always time to change.
Later, he stops by the store to buy some food and heads home, his surroundings boringly familiar to him after sixteen years in the same small town in the middle of South Korea. He lets his mind drift, thinking about nothing in particular.
As he reaches an intersection, something warm and solid suddenly crashes into him and at the same time, Kangin hears the screeching of brakes and a car horn honking as an SUV zooms by. He realizes he’d been about to step in its path.
He picks himself up shakily, realizing that his leg is bleeding from the impact with the ground, and offers a hand to the person who’d bumped into him. The young man stands, earrings swinging, and Kangin swears those brown-and-gold eyes meet Kangin’s with a look of fond exasperation before polite detachment returns.
“You should watch where you’re going next time,” the man says, not unkindly.
“Sorry,” Kangin says sheepishly. “Thanks for, um, saving my life.”
“It was an accident, anyway,” the man says dismissively, but his eyes are carefully guarded and Kangin has this abrupt feeling that what the man had wanted to say was it’s my job to protect you.
Nonsense, he tells himself. “What’s your name?” he asks.
“Leeteuk,” the man tells him, extending a hand. Special. "And you?”
“Kangin,” he says, shaking the offered hand.
Leeteuk’s eyes twinkle inexplicably and he smiles, a tiny dimple appearing at the corner of his mouth. “Well then, strongman, I’ll see you around.” He turns and walks away, in the opposite direction from where Kangin is headed.
Kangin smiles to himself and crosses the intersection cautiously. When he turns around again, Leeteuk is nowhere to be seen.
*
Kangin came home early one night, from the City borders that he had to protect from Demons and errant humans. Leeteuk greeted him with a smile and a kiss that tasted of sunlight and freedom. “You’re home early,” he commented as he turned back to the meal he was cooking. They didn’t need to eat to live, but Leeteuk tended to pick up recipes from the humans he watched over and Kangin always enjoyed trying out new dishes.
“I am,” Kangin said cheerfully from the bedroom, and Leeteuk heard the heavy thump of his armor falling to the floor. The older Angel rolled his eyes affectionately at Kangin’s habit of being messy, even after three hundred years of living with Leeteuk and six hundred more with the Government recognizing their bond.
The bedroom door opened again and Leeteuk purposely didn’t turn around at the footsteps behind him, batting at Kangin’s arm with a slim silver wing when Kangin attempted to wrap his arms around Leeteuk. He didn’t have to turn around to know that Kangin was pouting as he leaned against the counter. “Teukie, don’t you want to know why I’m home so early today?” he asked sweetly.
Leeteuk rolled his eyes again and turned off the stove, a gift from a Mechanic friend of his who knew of his admiration for human technology. “Tell me then,” he said, carrying the pot carefully over to the table.
“The Government finally accepted our request to raise a child,” Kangin said, glowing with happiness as the tips of his wings fluttered behind him.
Leeteuk just looked at him, so happily surprised that he was lost for words, and Kangin swooped over, pulling him into his arms and twirling both of them around in a spontaneous dance of celebration.
They went to the Hall of Creation the next day, the first time since their respective creations that either of them had been back to what the humans would’ve called a palace, with elegant towers twisting into the clouds and tapestries on the walls depicting the history of the City. Leeteuk was nervous in the best way possible, and Kangin had a spring in his step that Leeteuk had gone too long without seeing.
“Welcome,” the Head of the Government-the being that humans called God-greeted them when they entered the Hall. They couldn’t see His face; the raw power that surrounded beings such as Him prevented mere Angels from seeing them clearly. He beckoned forward a lesser Angel who was cradling a small, shining bundle in her arms.
Leeteuk took the ethereal child from her when she held him out to them, watching in amazement as the child’s features began to take shape. He knew that when Angel children were created, they were indistinct and in every way the same, and that only when an Angel child was held by its parents for the first time, would it finally develop into its true form, taking on characteristics of both parents.
The child’s features had become almost distinct when Leeteuk handed him over to Kangin, watching proudly as the child’s face came into clear view. “He’s definitely your son,” he murmured teasingly to Kangin.
Kangin chuckled quietly, wondrously, looking down at the child sleeping peacefully in his arms which looked almost exactly like a softer version of himself, save for the copper hair fanned out over one eye that was definitely Leeteuk’s. “He’s our son,” he replied simply.
“Would you like to give him a name?” the Head asked, not unkindly.
Leeteuk exchanged a glance with Kangin. They’d stayed awake late into the night, wondering whether the child was going to be a boy or girl, and discussing names for it. Kangin smiled encouragingly at Leeteuk, motioning with his eyes for him to speak.
“Hongki,” he said, the name echoing in the spacious Hall; and the child stirred in Kangin’s arms. “A solid foundation must be established before progress can be made.”
It was hard to tell, but Leeteuk thought the Head might be smiling. “It is a fitting name. Thank you both for your time.”
They bowed, and left the Hall.
(Neither of them knew it, but everything would change after Hongki came into their lives. As the child grew stronger and wiser, so did the Demons who attacked the City every now and then, and Kangin was forced to come home later and later every day. The Protectors were trying to defend the City and everything it stood for, before it came to outright war.)
*
It’s been a few days since Kangin last saw Leeteuk-a week since their meeting at the intersection-and given that the town is only so big and Leeteuk claims to be living here, he’s almost starting to wonder if Leeteuk is real. If it weren’t for the healing scrapes and bruises on his leg, he would’ve been convinced that Leeteuk was just a dream, or a fantasy, or something that his mind had made up.
(The last one would have been more convincing had he thought his mind capable of creating the vibrant character that he’s found out Leeteuk is, from the long conversations they’ve already had.)
After his brush with Death, he’s come to realize a lot of things about himself. Life is too short to waste and Kangin doesn’t regret anything when he approaches Donghae and Hyukjae, telling them that he’d like to remain friends with them but that he’ll no longer participate in their morally-ambiguous activities. They take the news well enough, and before long they, too, come to realize that what they’re doing is wrong.
He’s walking back home after a late-night shift at the convenience store where he works part-time when he hears low voices down a dim alley. Something cold crawls up his spine, for some reason unknown to him, and he steps carefully into the alley, staying as quiet as humanly possible as he watches the figures standing in the next patch of shadow.
“Surely you know why we’re here, Leeteuk sshi,” one of them-maybe the leader, though he looks very young-says casually, and Kangin almost moves to defend Leeteuk before he remembers his precarious situation. If he gets hurt, there won’t be anyone who can call for help if something happens.
Leeteuk bristles, but it looks like he’s outnumbered four to one. “I haven’t broken any Laws, Kris sshi,” he replies, coldly, but with an inherent respect in his tone.
The man called Kris seems about to retort, but the man standing to his left, closest to Leeteuk, grips Kris’ forearm to quiet him. “Leeteuk ah,” the man says, more gently, and Kangin knows somehow that this man is older, wiser than Kris, having seen and experienced things in his life that younger men only have nightmares about.
“You haven’t broken any Laws yet, but it’s only a matter of time.” He looks beseechingly at Leeteuk with his beautiful almond-shaped eyes, and when he blinks Kangin sees the glimmer of a scar running from the corner of his right eye almost to his temple.
Leeteuk’s defensive posture relaxes, but his voice is still clipped when he speaks. “And what would you have me do, Yunho yah?” he counters. “Don’t tell me you don’t search for anything of Jaejoong in everyone you meet, even knowing nothing will bring your Jaejoong back. You should be glad-”
Yunho snarls inhumanly at that, looking both beautiful and terrifying at once, and Kangin shrinks further into the shadows he’s hiding in. For a moment he thinks Yunho is going to attack Leeteuk, but the other two men-who look more like boys, really-step forward and hold him back until he comes to his senses.
“Regardless,” Kris starts, a smirk on his handsome face, “I think we must forbid you from seeing Kangin again. Or something might just...happen.” There’s definitely something cruel in his eyes.
Kangin’s eyebrows furrow. What the hell?
“You wouldn’t,” Leeteuk says, but he’s trembling.
Kris’ smirk widens and Kangin really just wants to punch that arrogant look off his face, but controls the urge. Instead, he reaches into his pocket, ready to grab his phone and call the police if these strange men don’t stop threatening Leeteuk.
One of the boys speaks up, the one with floppy chin-length chestnut hair and a round face. “The Government suspects Kangin is close to figuring out who you really are,” he says, almost apologetically. “Or at least that you’re not who you seem to be.”
“And you know the Laws, hyung,” the other boy adds, the solemnity of his tone in contrast to the deep smile lines around his eyes and mouth.
That does it. Before Kangin can think too hard about what he’s doing, he takes his hand out of his pocket and steps out from the shadows. From the way Yunho narrows his eyes, Kangin knows that Yunho knows that Kangin’s been listening the whole time.
Leeteuk whirls around, alarmed. “Kangin ah. You shouldn’t be here.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” Kangin asks, walking closer to the group. “If you’re involved in something illegal, I have a right to know, don’t I?”
A flash of something crosses Leeteuk’s face. “No,” he whispers. “You don’t.”
Kangin stops just a few steps from Leeteuk. “Excuse me?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Leeteuk says, and Kangin thinks he hears a strain of desperation in Leeteuk’s voice. “I’m not doing anything illegal.”
Kris coughs pointedly. Leeteuk ignores him.
“Then tell me what’s going on,” Kangin says.
Leeteuk tries to smile a little then, but it comes out shaky. “Telling you would be illegal.”
Kangin scoffs. “That doesn’t add up.”
Something in Leeteuk’s expression shifts. “Please, Kangin, just...” He swallows, and Kangin almost reaches out to comfort him before he remembers that he’s supposed to be angry. “Just listen to me for once, please. You need to leave. Now.”
Kangin stands his ground, though there’s this little voice in the back of his head telling him that maybe leaving would be a good idea. “I’m not leaving until I get an answer.”
Yunho growls low in his throat and something flashes in Kangin’s peripheral vision, and Leeteuk’s piercing scream only barely registers in his mind before he’s shoved to the ground in a blinding flurry of movement, a sound like a gunshot echoing through the alley. Leeteuk tumbles to the pavement a few feet away, a dagger in his shoulder and his arm twisted at an awkward angle.
Kangin scrambles to his feet and rushes to Leeteuk’s side, shaking him as much as he dares. A shadow falls over them and he looks up, instinctively shifting so that he’s shielding as much as he can of Leeteuk’s body with his own.
Yunho’s expression is torn as he stares at the bloodied dagger, his eyes hardening as he glances at Kangin. “For his sake, I will spare you tonight,” he says, calmly but in a tone that leaves nothing to be questioned. “But remember this if nothing else: I will never forgive you for causing Jaejoong’s death.” He turns on his heel and strides away, disappearing into the night just as sirens begin to wail in the distance.
Leeteuk stirs, bringing Kangin’s attention back to him. He kneels, bracing himself to pull the dagger out of Leeteuk’s shoulder, and gently cradles Leeteuk’s limp form in his arms. “Shh,” he murmurs when Leeteuk cries out, trying to fight him. “It’s all right. The ambulance is almost here.”
“No,” Leeteuk chokes out, gasping in pain. “Can’t...go to...hospital...”
Kangin frowns down at him. “Why not?”
Leeteuk shakes his head, wincing when the motion jars his injured shoulder. “No...time to explain. Just...promise, please...”
“Okay, okay,” Kangin reassures him hurriedly, standing with Leeteuk safely in his arms. The ambulance is close now, on the main street he’d been walking on before he came into the alley. “I won’t take you to the hospital.”
“Good,” Leeteuk manages weakly. “Now...stay still.”
The paramedics are leaping out of the ambulance now, running into the alley.
“But Teukie hyung-” Kangin starts to say.
Leeteuk silences him with a look and Kangin holds his breath as the paramedics rush right past them as if they can’t see them.
One paramedic picks up the dagger that Kangin had left on the ground, calling the other paramedics over to have a look at it. “There’s not enough blood to be life-threatening,” one says. “Probably just another gang fight or something.”
After the ambulance leaves, Kangin breathes a sigh of relief, looking around carefully before hurrying back to his (thankfully empty) house.
He lays Leeteuk down on his bed carefully, mindful of his broken arm and bleeding shoulder, before rushing to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit and wash his hands thoroughly with soap. He’s never had to treat anything more severe than a gash before and as he sits down on the bed next to Leeteuk, he sends a silent prayer up to whatever God or gods there may be that everything will be okay.
Leeteuk is quiet, staying still so that Kangin can slip Leeteuk’s bloodied shirt off. Kangin sucks in a breath when he sees the faint scars crisscrossed all over Leeteuk’s back and hesitates, wondering if he should ask about it. In the end, he decides it’s not important, and doesn’t say anything as he dabs antiseptic on Leeteuk’s wound and bandages it tightly, before moving on to the broken arm and making a sling as best as he can.
“You should try to sleep,” Kangin says when he’s done, trying to help Leeteuk find a comfortable position.
“Sleep with me then,” Leeteuk mumbles, looking as innocent as a newborn child with his eyes half-closed, and Kangin doesn’t hesitate before taking off his sweater and lying down, shifting Leeteuk so that his broken arm is resting on Kangin’s chest and he isn’t putting any pressure on the wound from the dagger. Leeteuk’s breath is warm against Kangin’s throat, the downy bedcovers soft over their bodies and glistening in the moonlight, and it’s not long before Kangin drifts off to sleep.
In the morning, he wakes up alone, the bedcovers free of bloodstains, with only a pair of silver earrings in the shape of crosses on his pillow to attest to what had happened.
*
Leeteuk remembered, very clearly, the day war came to the City, the first time in thousands of years that it had happened.
Hongki was just over a hundred years old, just old enough to understand why Kangin wasn’t going to be at home for some time. Leeteuk was glad, sometimes, that he didn’t have to explain the war to his son, but other times, he wished Hongki were as young as Ryeowook’s or Seohyun’s children, so that he could tell Hongki every day that Kangin would be coming home soon. Maybe if he said it enough, he might believe it.
Leeteuk himself was forbidden to serve in the army at this point in time-there always had to be a parent there to take care of the child, lest it grow up rebellious and immoral. If, after ten years, Kangin was still alive (Leeteuk tried his best not to think of the other possibility) and the war wasn’t over, then Kangin would come home to look after Hongki and Leeteuk would fight.
“But how am I just supposed to sit here while you’re out there fighting? You could die any day and I won’t be there to protect you!” Leeteuk had shouted, desperate and frustrated, when Kangin had volunteered himself as the first parent to serve.
Kangin had pulled Leeteuk into his arms, nearly crushing him in his embrace. “Don’t worry about me,” he’d murmured. “I promise I’ll come back to you.”
So Leeteuk waited.
His close friend Yunho, who was a Judge in the Department of Law, would come over often, just to talk. Sometimes he brought his son Changmin with him (his second son; his first son Junsu had already become a full Angel, a Muse like Jaejoong) so that the two of them could just watch their children play together, seemingly without a care in the world.
Yunho was in the same situation as Leeteuk, his partner Jaejoong having insisted on being the first to serve. “Stop treating me like some delicate princess,” Jaejoong had said, according to Yunho. “War doesn’t wait for knights in shining armor.”
After ten years-almost a blink of an eye to the Angels-Kangin and Jaejoong came home, leaving Leeteuk and Yunho to serve their duty. But the Demons attacking the City just couldn’t be defeated that easily, and by the time Leeteuk came home again, the war still hadn’t been won. It became almost normal for the City after a time; Leeteuk lost count of how many times he had gone off to war when Kangin returned.
The Government continued to assure them that the tide of war was slowly turning in their favor, but Leeteuk watched as the white flags of mourning were raised above house after house after house. Sometimes, late at night, he would wonder how long it would be before the white flags flew over his house as well.
One morning, he woke up to see the white flags flying over Yunho’s house.
For the first time in too long, Leeteuk paid a visit to Heechul, one of his few contacts in the Government, albeit in the not-quite-respectable Wing of Destruction. During wartime, the Destroyers had the unfortunate job of reporting on daily fatalities and handling postmortem affairs, and in peacetime had the even worse job of deciding, on a case-by-case basis, if certain rebellious Angels, or humans who knew too much, were to be destroyed.
Jaejoong had been ambushed while on patrol duty, captured and tortured to death, Heechul related grimly. Junsu, naturally, had been the first to notice that Jaejoong was missing and had rallied the other Angels in his unit to try to save the other Muse, but he had been too late and Jaejoong had died in his son’s arms.
Leeteuk woke to a frantic pounding on his door, too early in the morning the day after he’d heard the news about Jaejoong. Changmin was standing outside, terrified, sobbing something about Daddy and knives and blood-
Hongki started crying then too and Leeteuk had to comfort both of them while trying to summon one of the messenger-spirits that were usually floating around, in order to contact the Government.
Yunho had tried to kill himself by stabbing himself in the head, but it wasn’t just a myth that Angels could only be killed by Demons.
He was with the Healers for a long time, during which Leeteuk, and Kangin when he returned home, was asked to take care of Changmin. It was difficult-at night Changmin would often wake up screaming, and during the day he would just stare out the window, not wanting to do anything. Leeteuk wondered how it was fair that a child had to suffer through so much.
For a long time after Yunho returned home, Leeteuk didn’t spend much time with them, simply because Yunho refused to have visitors. Leeteuk would see the two of them, Yunho and Changmin, in the City sometimes, but only for long enough to notice the blank, carefully neutral expressions Yunho always wore now, and the wisdom in Changmin’s eyes that made him seem far older than he really was.
The war continued.
Leeteuk heard whispers that the Government suspected that intelligence was being leaked to the Demons-that there was a spy among the Angels. In just a few short days, distrust was rampant. Even Angels that had known each other for centuries-millennia, for some-had to be cautious with what they said to one another. It wasn’t uncommon for Angels to be reported to the Government for less than complaining about how the war had been going on for so long, and usually by their closest friends.
He held Hongki close, and told him that while blind trust was foolish, standing by one’s friends was the most important thing in life. Hongki smiled, his eyes curving into crescent moons just like Kangin’s did, and nodded.
Then the news came out: the Government had found the spy.
It was Kangin.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Leeteuk said furiously to Kyuhyun, one of the Prophets in the Academy of Knowledge, Seohyun’s partner and the youngest of Leeteuk’s group of friends before he’d become a full Angel. “Kangin would never-”
“I’m sorry,” Kyuhyun interrupted, looking tired. “I know it’s hard for you to face the truth, but that’s just it.”
Leeteuk knew Kyuhyun was right. He was a Prophet, and Prophets were never wrong.
The Department of Law came to take Hongki away, and no matter how much Leeteuk cried and begged, they wouldn’t leave without what they had come for. “He’s too much like Kangin,” they said, “a danger to the City, he needs to be destroyed,” and Hongki touched Leeteuk’s cheek gently, murmuring that it was going to be okay.
Then the Wing of Destruction came for Leeteuk, sending Kris, a younger Destroyer, and Heechul to Leeteuk’s house to escort him to the Wing. Leeteuk knew he needed to be there for Kangin’s sentencing, but still he shuddered when he entered the Judgment Hall, despite the way Heechul gripped his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.
The senior Destroyers, who were only consulted for extreme cases, were all seated on the raised dais made of some dark material that gave Leeteuk chills just to look at. The walls were made of the same substance and there was a single tapestry behind the dais depicting the legendary Lucifer’s fall from grace-all in all, not a welcoming room.
Kangin was standing off to the side, chained with his back to Leeteuk in a glowing column of the same raw power that surrounded the Head of the Government. Leeteuk took half a step towards Kangin, wanting to call out to him, but a voice rang out from the dais, belonging to an Angel with his black hair cut so that it fell over one eye-Yoochun, the most senior member and partner of Junsu, Jaejoong and Yunho’s son.
“You are not to converse with him until judgment has been passed.”
Leeteuk took a deep breath, fighting to keep control over his emotions.
Yoochun leaned forward slightly, giving Leeteuk a calculating look. “Leeteuk, you are one of the oldest Angels in the City, close to three thousand years old now. Am I correct in assuming that you understand the severity of what Kangin has done?”
“Yes,” Leeteuk answered, his voice shaking.
Another Angel spoke up, a girl with long black hair and sharp cheekbones-Krystal. “You know what the punishment should be, then. Kangin will have to be destroyed.”
Leeteuk swallowed with difficulty. “Please...” he whispered, not even knowing what he was asking for.
Sooyoung, to Krystal’s right, arched a slim eyebrow. “Kangin’s punishment cannot be changed on a whim, Leeteuk. You know that well, I hope.”
“Yes, but...” Leeteuk tried to force his voice to stop shaking. “I...love him. I...I can’t live without him. Punish him, but do not destroy him.”
The Destroyers exchanged surprised looks. They’ve probably never received a request like this, Leeteuk thought.
“Very well,” Yoochun said finally. “Kangin will not be destroyed.”
Leeteuk’s legs went weak with relief and he knelt, showing his gratitude.
“However,” Yoochun continued sternly, “his memories of the City will be erased and he will be given a new life as a human, bound by the rules that bind the mortal realm. Every time he dies, his soul will not go into the Afterlife, but be reborn. That is his punishment.” Yoochun met Leeteuk’s eyes. “And yours.”
Leeteuk bowed his head. “You have been more merciful than I could ever have hoped,” he replied carefully.
Sooyoung stood and cautiously approached the glowing column that Kangin was imprisoned in, murmuring something that Leeteuk couldn’t hear clearly. The glow of the column pulsed and faded, and Kangin whirled around to face Leeteuk, eyes regretful. “Leeteuk, you shouldn’t have done that.”
“What else could I have done?” Leeteuk replied sadly. He wanted to run to Kangin, to feel those strong arms wrap around him just one more time, but he knew he couldn’t. They couldn’t touch each other, were permitted only to talk one last time before the punishment was carried out.
“I’m sorry,” Kangin murmured after a moment.
“Don’t worry about it,” Leeteuk answered, trying to smile. “I love you, anyway.”
“Even when I can’t remember you, I’ll still love you,” Kangin said, his eyes smoldering with the passion behind his words. Over his shoulders, Leeteuk could see his wings disintegrating, unraveling feather by mahogany feather.
Kangin closed his eyes, and fell.
*
Years pass.
Kangin never forgets the one week he spent with Leeteuk. He wears the silver earrings as often as he can, the dangling weight serving as both subtle comfort and a reminder. His friends grow up with him and most of them ending up moving elsewhere, but Kangin only moves into his own apartment down the street.
Part of him still hopes that Leeteuk will return someday, he won’t deny it.
He serves his mandatory two years in the army, and there’s something unnerving about the way a gun in his hands feels much too familiar. Some nights, he dreams of silver wings shining in the moonlight, brown-and-gold eyes whispering to a boy only eight years old, and he wakes up every time feeling like there’s some elusive truth in those dreams, lurking just beyond his grasp.
Afterwards, he tries dating, with this girl that he’d met at the bar. She’s petite, with dyed-copper hair and dimples, and she wears white all the time because it makes her feel at peace. Kangin likes her, he really does, but after a while he realizes that he only likes her because she’s so much like Leeteuk. Their relationship ends quietly after that and it leaves Kangin only the slightest bit frustrated.
One calm, nondescript Friday afternoon, he comes home from his very ordinary job and isn’t surprised in the least to find a thin young man sitting on his bed, leaning against the headboard, brown-and-gold eyes watching fondly as Kangin stops in the doorway.
“Hi,” Leeteuk says, and he looks exactly the same as he had that night in the alley.
“It’s been eight years,” Kangin tells him, unsure whether to laugh or cry.
Leeteuk’s gaze softens, turns into something dark and sad. “I’m only here when you need me,” he says.
Kangin takes a deep breath and climbs onto the bed, sheer longing making him bold. “And what if I told you I always need you?”
Leeteuk’s eyelids flutter shut when Kangin leans in, pressing him against the headboard, and Kangin knows that they both know what he wants. He doesn’t want to force anything, but Leeteuk lets Kangin kiss him, fingers catching in Leeteuk’s hair, their mouths moving together naturally as if this isn’t their first time. Leeteuk tastes like melancholy and loneliness, and Kangin delves deeper, wanting to take away the pain.
He lies down and tugs Leeteuk down with him, broad hands slipping under Leeteuk’s shirt and brushing against the scars that he remembers are there. Leeteuk arches under him, gasping, and wrenches his mouth away. “Stop,” he whispers into the bedcovers, shaking, and Kangin realizes, belatedly, that Leeteuk is crying. “Please, don’t...”
Kangin moves immediately, so that they’re lying side by side, and pulls Leeteuk into his arms. “Shh,” he murmurs, carding his fingers through Leeteuk’s hair. “I won’t hurt you, I promise, shh...”
Leeteuk bites his lip and clutches desperately at Kangin until he stops shaking. “I’m sorry,” he says after a while.
“Don’t be,” Kangin reassures him, wiping away what remains of Leeteuk’s tears. “I don’t want to do anything that you’re not comfortable with.”
For a second he thinks Leeteuk is going to cry again, but then the older man blinks, runs a hand through his hair to straighten it. “I’m cooking dinner,” he announces as he stands and pulls Kangin to his feet, “want anything in particular?”
They stay awake late into the night just talking, before Leeteuk falls asleep against Kangin’s shoulder. Carefully, Kangin carries him to bed, tucking the covers in around them. He watches shadows dance across the room, bathed silver with moonlight, before Leeteuk’s even breathing lulls him to sleep.
In the morning, Leeteuk is still there, a warm weight in Kangin’s arms that brings a hint of a smile to his face. He doesn’t want to wake Leeteuk up, doesn’t want to disturb the expression of utter peace on his face, and so he waits a little longer until Leeteuk’s eyes flutter open, before stretching. “Good morning, hyung,” he says, and Leeteuk chuckles.
They walk around town for a while, enjoying the weather and each other’s company, before returning home for lunch. Kangin suspects that Leeteuk’s hiding something from him, but he hasn’t said anything yet, knowing that Leeteuk will tell him, if it’s important.
Sure enough, after lunch, he finds Leeteuk staring out the bedroom window, expression somber. “Teukie hyung?” he asks softly.
Leeteuk turns to face him. “Kanginnie,” he says, and Kangin feels a jolt go through him at the sound of the affectionate nickname. “I need to talk to you.”
Kangin can only nod.
Leeteuk takes a few steps closer to him, something unreadable in his expression. “Do you believe in me?” he asks.
Kangin thinks about the question for a moment. “I know you would never hurt me,” he answers, and from the way Leeteuk relaxes, he knows he’s said the right thing.
“There will be times in your life where the only thing you will have to go on is faith,” Leeteuk says, his gaze far away. “Just remember to stay true to yourself, and everything will be all right in the end.” He looks back at Kangin again and smiles, just a little.
“Are you leaving again?” Kangin asks, not caring how much he sounds like a child.
“I can’t stay,” Leeteuk tells him, reaching out to touch his cheek gently. “But I’m always with you.” He nods at the silver earrings that Kangin’s still wearing.
Kangin reaches up and clasps Leeteuk’s hand in his own. “I love you,” he says boldly.
Leeteuk blinks back tears. “I know,” he whispers.
That night, North Korea invades South Korea.
The country is in a frenzy-America, all the way across the ocean, is too slow to mobilize, and Japan, still reeling from the earthquake-tsunami-nuclear meltdown just months before, proclaims neutrality. Kangin rather thinks they should’ve seen this coming, North Korean bombings having grown more frequent over the past few months, but he picks up his gun anyway and heads off to war.
He rises quickly through the ranks, praised for his strength and his benevolence-he’s never left a wounded soldier on the battlefield, no matter what side they were. If he’d had time to think about it, he would’ve thought that there was something strangely familiar about being in the thick of a battle, dodging bullets and mines as he fought to win just another few meters of land for their side.
As it is, war is also apparently a good time to make friends. There’s a young man in Kangin’s unit who catches his eye the very first day. He looks much too sweet and innocent to be out here, with dimples and round cheeks and a sunny smile. “I’m Kibum,” he says when Kangin asks, flashing him a grin.
Kangin also learns that Kibum’s got two sisters at home, one older and one younger, and that he’s married. His wife, as he sees from the pictures Kibum shows him, is quite frail-Kibum says she’s been sickly all her life-but her eyes are full of life and Kangin tells Kibum honestly that she’s beautiful.
From then on, Kibum sort of becomes Kangin’s protectorate. Before every campaign, Kangin makes sure Kibum’s thoroughly briefed on all the details of the attack so he won’t be taken by surprise, and when he returns to camp after every battle, the first face he looks for is Kibum’s.
The tide of war turns against them and they’re forced to retreat to Daegu, where the American soldiers are waiting for them (finally). But even with the Americans’ help, they lose more and more ground each day.
“Hoobaes in the intelligence sector think there’s a spy,” Kibum confides to Kangin one relatively calm night, and Kangin takes his gaze away from the stars to look at Kibum’s eyes, glittering in the firelight.
“It’s possible,” he says, and he can’t explain why his heart is suddenly pounding.
After a few weeks with no leads, they all get called in, separately, for questioning. Kangin thinks it’s ridiculous, but he’s got nothing to hide, so he swallows his complaints and answers their questions honestly. Kibum, on the other hand, leaves the interrogation shaking, and when Kangin tries to approach him, he climbs a tree and hides. Literally.
Kangin rolls his eyes in Kibum’s general direction and leaves, knowing that Kibum will come to him sooner or later if something’s really bothering him that much.
That night, after the whole camp’s quieted down and Kangin’s taken first watch, a small lithe figure detaches itself from the shadows and comes towards him, slowly. Kangin just waits, recognizing Kibum’s silhouette.
The younger man sits down next to Kangin, nodding his thanks when Kangin wraps half of his blanket around him. “So, tell me what’s wrong?” Kangin says.
Kibum swallows, and Kangin can feel his panic. “Intelligence thinks I’m the spy.”
Kangin wouldn’t ask otherwise, but something about Kibum’s behavior just isn’t right. “And are you the spy?” he whispers.
Kibum looks down at his feet, and nods.
Kangin sighs. “We’ll figure something out,” he says, and Kibum darts a surprised glance at him. “Just go sleep for now.”
“You don’t have to do anything for me,” Kibum says.
“I’m doing this because I want to,” Kangin answers, patting Kibum’s cheek fondly. “Now shoo. Off to bed with you.”
He spends the rest of his sentry duty that night turning over ideas in his head, none of them very appealing. Around midnight, Jongwoon shows up for second watch, and Kangin seizes the opportunity to discuss the issue with his brother. He knows he can trust Jongwoon to keep a secret.
When he tells Jongwoon his plan, Jongwoon looks at him, sadly, but with pride too. “I know I can trust you to do the right thing, Youngwoon,” he says. He’s the only one who still calls Kangin by his real name.
Kangin stays for the rest of Jongwoon’s shift just to talk with his brother, telling him everything he’d never had the chance to. When the sun starts to peek over the horizon, Jongwoon stands, and hugs Kangin tightly. “You’re so much stronger than I could ever be,” he whispers, cradling Kangin’s face in his hands, eyes searching Kangin’s intently. “I’m proud to call you my brother.”
Stay true to yourself, Leeteuk’s voice whispers in his head as he walks slowly to where Kibum’s sleeping fitfully. Everything will be all right.
He wakes Kibum and tells him everything.
“I’m sorry,” Kangin says to his hoobaes working in the intelligence sector, after going through the perfunctory greetings. “I’m the spy you’ve been looking for.”
Some of them don’t believe him, just as he’d predicted, but they decide in the end that if he’s already confessed, his punishment needs to be carried out or it’ll set a bad example for the other soldiers. A feeling of peace settles over him and he stays calm as they handcuff him and assemble all the soldiers so they can hear his crime and his sentencing.
“Any last words?” Leejoon says gruffly, only one of the many holding back tears.
Kangin shakes his head, finding some small comfort in the thought that he’ll be missed. He doesn’t trust himself to say anything that won’t reveal his innocence, and besides, everything that needs to be said has already been said.
Jongwoon will reveal the truth only to their parents, but when South Korea is free again, he will make sure that everyone knows the sacrifice that Kangin had made.
Kibum will get himself injured in the next battle, not enough to be fatal, but enough to earn him an honorable discharge. He can go home to his wife, safe in the knowledge that he will no longer have to provide information to the enemy, and the North Korean spy ring won’t be able to accuse him of turning against them.
Leejoon takes Kangin by the elbow and leads him a little ways into the forest, where the firing squad is waiting for him. “Thank you for your bravery,” Leejoon says simply, unchaining Kangin before he turns and takes his place among the firing squad.
Kangin can hear the sounds of the firing squad getting ready behind him, but he’s distracted by the soft light that suddenly fills the forest. Leeteuk appears, walking steadily towards him, a smile on his face that only Kangin can see. “Kangin,” he whispers. “My Kangin. I’m so proud of you.”
“Leeteuk,” Kangin says, just as Leejoon’s shout rings through the morning, his voice trembling with emotion, “Fire!”
Kangin hears the gunshots, feels the bullets hit his body, but suddenly Leeteuk’s lips are on his, the kiss soft and chaste, and there’s no pain as everything fades to white.
A voice speaks to him, a voice terrible with power and yet gentle with mercy. You have chosen well, my child. Even an Angel fallen from grace can prove to be worthy of salvation. He who lives in love, lives in God.1 And greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.2
When Kangin’s vision returns, he finds himself standing in lush grass on the banks of a clear river. Leeteuk is still standing in front of him, silver wings outstretched, and all of Kangin’s memories from his human lives over the past thousand years return.
“Where am I?” he asks in wonder, and as the words leave his mouth he sees towering iron gates rise up behind Leeteuk, swinging open without a sound.
“You’re home,” Leeteuk says, walking through the gates without turning his back, and Kangin follows him without question. “Welcome home, Kangin.”
1excerpt from 1 John 4:16 (NIV)
2excerpt from John 15:9-16a (ESV)