cynosura (oneshot)
cynosura
chen!centric + chen/lay
pg-13. ~5500w
angst. romance. fantasy. fluff. character study. (angel!au)
prompt: fallen angel, chen, monster (big bang)
Cynosura. To humans it is the Polaris, the brightest star of the Ursa Minor. To the Hierarchy of Angels, it is the doorway between Heaven and Earth.
author's notes: because there's a lack of chen fics and chenchen is awesome and wow, how do you write long fics?
thank you for reading!
the beginning.
There are no explosions, or bursts of fire; the feathers do not burst into flames, turning into ashes, tainting the pure whiteness black. No. There was only silence as the white faded into gray, like a withering blossom until only black raven feathers remained. Those began to fade too, trailing up above him as black ashes until they slowly vanish, pale hands reaching out for something too far.
Time seemed to stop; an eerie silence, a sense of calm. Falling, falling, and as Chen watched the endless sky above become further and further away from his reach, he feels nothing, no sadness, or pain, or regrets. Nothing. He notes how it feels like flying, a smile threatening to tug at his lips at the memory. Of the freedom, wings spread wide, pure white feathers ruffling against the resistant wind; the wind whistling against his ears, oh so familiar, but amongst the shrill sound, a voice. That voice starting a chain reaction, memories of dimpled smiles, bright laughter, wide brown eyes, pink lips...
He feels empty. That voice which he can’t place a name on, reminding him of the gentle strums of acoustic guitars and graceful, carefree steps, repeating a desperate mantra in his ears. “I'm sorry,” the voice murmurs, growing louder as the skies became further. “I'm so sorry...”
‘Why? Why are you sorry?’ Chen wanted to ask. ‘It’s okay, I forgive you.’ He opened his mouth but there was only silence.
A face, all soft features and blinding smile, fleets across his eyes, a mere memory, before there was darkness.
-
Cynosura. To humans it is the Polaris, the brightest star of the Ursa Minor. To the Hierarchy of Angels, it is the doorway between Heaven and Earth.
A spirit which can take any form, it guides both angel and human.
To the humans, it is a fixed point in the constantly rotating endless sky, to the angels, a form of passageway to contact the mortal world. For some reason, it has taken the form of a beautiful cherry blossom tree, right at the centre of the City of Angels. In the mortal world, in a country called Japan, cherry blossoms symbolise the transience of life. The cherry-blossom tree is known for its short but brilliant blooming season, a natural process that metaphorically describes human life. While a fallen, withered cherry blossom symbolises a fallen samurai who sacrificed his life for the emperor.
The Cynosura overlooks the pristine, marble grounds of the city, its brilliant crimson blossoms a splash of life and colour to the monochrome and seemingly lifeless grounds. But lifeless it is not. For a city where celestial beings reside, the marble grounds appeared to gleam, intricate golden designs interlocking and intertwining across the grounds, threads painting the golden Tree of Life with five faceless silhouettes against the bare background, gold ink tracing smooth images of angels and even humans in an enduring, undying amity .
Around the cherry blossom tree, strands of gold seemed to reach out towards the city which encircles it, as if uniting each ancient building; the looming Cathedral with its weathered statues of higher beings, the city’s garden with its bright red, orange, yellow and green, even the residence of normal angels, blocks of marble houses with crystallised windows where the sun’s rays may sneak through, washing away the fragments of sleep from behind barely opened eyes.
At this particular time of day (at the crack of dawn, when the lights spills onto the darkened skies and the sun peeks from behind the mountains), the bottom of the tree glows an ethereal light as groups of angels gathers around it, hands clutching feathery quills, parchment on the other, bright eyes blinking as the light seeps into the sky, accompanied by a melodic hush, almost as if waiting for the goddess of dawn to paint the sky with shades of red, orange and yellow. But it was no match for the peachy light radiating from the angels’ delicate, ivory wings, curved behind their backs like wisps of smoke, the mist gliding along emerald fields after a rainy day.
A wide-eyed boy sat atop one of Cynosura’s larger roots protruding from the grounds, a large, golden tome in hand. He waited as the angels settled, a small smile playing upon his lips as some familiar faces waved in greeting.
“Today,” he speaks in a gentle, husky voice, which although quiet, carried across the crowd of angels. “We will learn more about the Hierarchy,” he smiles, opening the book. Immediately, golden streaks of light spilled from the yellowed pages, a few stray lights curled themselves around the tree while the rest became a stream of words which morphed into images, painting a large chart across the air in gold ink. A collective gasp rose from the crowds and a few clapped.
“I’ll never get tired of that,” an angel chuckles, leaning back against a tree root which reaches far into the city.
“Of course not, Chen,” a deep voice answers, belonging to a smiling angel, brown eyes flecked with gold as he looked up at the chart. “How does that old book do that?” he gives a breathless chuckle. “I mean it looks like it’s about to fall apart even when Kyungsoo holds it like a human baby,”
Chen chuckles in reply, eyes straying to the angel sitting by the tree. Kyungsoo. Third Sphere. Principality. Educators and guardians of the realm of earth; they are said to inspire living things to many aspects such as art and science. Chen smiles as this information fleets across his mind, like those golden words which flowed from the book. So fitting of Kyungsoo.
“Seraphims. The highest angelic class, under the First Sphere,” Kyungsoo begins and as he said this, the chart transforms into an image of a six-winged angel, golden threads weaving in the air, golden strands forming a set of wings so radiant, even when composed of golden ink that they seemed to glow blindingly white. It was an image of a young girl, soft features, a gentle smile. The crowd of angels gasped, eyes alight with awe and admiration. “Boa, part of the Heavenly Counselors.” Kyungsoo pauses, smiling at the crowd. “And whom, we haven’t even seen or met yet.”
“I wonder if we’ll ever see her,” the deep voiced angel murmurs, looking up at the image of Boa.
Chanyeol. Third Sphere. Arch Angel. Chen hums, eyes glinting with mischief. “You know what?” Chanyeol tears his wide eyes away from the golden image. “We probably already met her.”Chanyeol tilt of his head in question, frowning up at Chen from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the ground. “We’re not sure if she really looks like that right? Who knows, we probably know her,” Chen chuckles as Chanyeol’s eyes grew large. “Theory. It’s a theory, calm down,” he says, afraid the poor angel’s eyes were going to fall out of their sockets.
“Powers,” Kyungsoo murmurs, a finger tracing the words on the page, Chanyeol and Chen’s head snaps in his direction, the crowd goes silent. “Powers. Also called Authorities,” He repeats more clearly, eyes straying towards the gold strands of light as the image of Boa fades and in her place, a boy, about the same age as Kyungsoo, appears, hair a darker shade of gold, eyes so dark, they seemed to gaze deep into your soul.
Kyungsoo coughs, tearing his eyes away from the image and fixing it on the crowd. “The Powers are the bearers of conscience and the keepers of history. They are also the warrior angels created to be completely loyal to God.” His voice wavers slightly, but his brown eyes stayed focused, determined.
Chanyeol shares a worried look with Chen. “Their duty is to oversee the distribution of power among humankind.” Kyungsoo pauses and takes a deep breath. The next words were spoken in a murmur. “Some believe that no Power has ever fallen from grace, but...”
Chen looks up at the golden illustration. Kai. Second Sphere. Power. Fallen.
Kyungsoo clears his throat and smiles, closing the book as the image of Kai faded away into golden mist. “I think that’s it for today,” he smiles at the crowd and looked behind him. “The sun will be up in a few minutes,”
As the crowd of angels gradually dispersed, some disappearing through Cynosura to guide their assigned humans, Kyungsoo stayed sitting, eyes lingering on the space in which the image of Kai appeared a minute ago.
“I wonder...” Chanyeol murmurs, eyes on Kyungsoo as the boy looks down at the tome on his lap. “I wonder what happens to those who have Fallen.” He turns to Chen, worry etched on his face.
Chen shakes his head, mouth set in a line, turning away from the tree where the lonely figure of Kyungsoo sat.
No one really knows.
-
Angels weren’t meant to fall in love. They were assigned to humans, their guardian angel. Angels were meant to guide them (hence the word ‘guardian’), give them a gentle shove in the right direction, keep them away from trouble and protect them. That was it.
Angels weren’t meant to fall in love. Whether it be with humans or other angels.
That was the greatest sin an angel could commit.
-
Lay.
That was his name; the human assigned to Chen.
Of course, that’s not his real name. The Elders forbade angels from knowing the humans’ real names, keeps them impersonal, keeps the angels from growing attached, they said. Angels were also not meant to be seen, just a shadow, behind the scenes; concealed, but always there.
“Oh, hey Chen! Where have you vanished off to this time?” Lay waves from where he sat, a dimpled smile gracing his features with twinkling eyes.
That was Chen’s first mistake. (First of many, Chen thinks.)
-
It was actually an accident. How Chen showed himself to Lay.
When angels fly down to Earth, there is a moment, before they land, a few seconds where they are essentially human. Their wings become so transparent, they seem to disappear and the glow which protects them from human eyes becomes so faint that they are almost visible, translucent like a phantom.
Chen stumbles a bit, hand against a lamppost to steady himself as a wave of dizziness washes over him, when panicked honking and screeching tires made him look up.
His blood runs cold.
There, on the road was his assigned human, hand steady on an elderly’s shoulder as he guides her slowly to the sidewalk, oblivious to the massive, red truck heading straight towards them, the horn practically screaming for them to get out of the way.
Chen didn’t think.
In a flash, he had a hand on Lay’s back, the other on the elderly, his mind willing the truck to slow down while pushing the pair hurriedly to the safety of the sidewalk.
A relieved sigh escapes Chen’s lips as the truck zooms by, the two humans safe and sound on the sidewalk, where Lay offers the elderly a small smile, as he waves goodbye.
Lay looks up; looks straight at him. Chen freezes.
Lay smiles. “Thank you,” he breathes and Chen thinks he’s in trouble.
Trust Chen to meet his human in the most clichéd way possible.
-
“So, what’s your name?”
Chen swallows, feeling an urge to run. He can almost hear his mentor’s scolding voice, can almost feel the Elders’ frown upon him. He is in deep sh-
Lay smiles, distracting Chen from his thoughts, a cup of coffee snug in his hands. The steam floats happily above their heads. Chen thinks the steam may have clouded his mind.
“C- Chen,” he manages to murmur, too mesmerized by Lay’s smile to think of consequences.
“That’s a pretty name,” Lay smiles. Chen thinks he has a pretty smile. “My name’s Lay,” but of course that’s not what he said. Chen sees his mouth form a different name, one he cannot make out, but Lay was what he heard. “And thanks, you know for-,” he motions vaguely outside the window, looking sheepish.
“It’s fine,” Chen offers a smile of his own and Lay visibly relaxed.
A few seconds pass and Chen tries to conjure up ways to exit the conversation. He considers standing up and running away, he doesn’t even care if he embarrasses himself. He’s an angel. He doesn’t have to see Lay ever again.
“So, are you new here? I’ve never seen you before,”
You’re not supposed to see me at all, Chen thinks.
-
Somewhere up above, the Elders look on from their thrones. “Should we-?” a voice echoes across the hexagonal room, tinged with worry.
“No,” another faceless voice replies, humming. “No, we should give them a chance.”
“This is technically breaking all the rules,” another chuckles, amused. “But hey, they’re cute together,”
“Sh, Andy, I don’t think you’re supposed to find them cute,”
“But they are!” Another voice replies and soon all six voice became indistinguishable as they began to argue with glee.
“Alright, Elders!”
“We’re not even that old,” one murmurs, you can almost hear the pout in his voice.
There was a long suffering sigh. “We’ll see how this unfolds and decide,”
-
Chen thinks back to his lessons back in the city; of unknown words, rarely spoken yet beautiful even in silence. He’s back in the same cafe again; Lay smiling serenely in front of him. Chen’s lost track of how he came to this situation and somehow, he stopped caring.
A word drifts across his mind - ‘ambedo’ a ‘kind of melancholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details-raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees leaning in the wind, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee-which leads to a dawning awareness of the haunting fragility of life.’
Chen smiles back, nursing a cup of green tea; he’s somehow developed an addiction to human tea and coffee after their frequent meeting. Lay himself is completely addicted to Americano. Chen can’t stand Americano.
‘Ambedo’. Like the way Lay’s eyes crinkles into half-moons when he smiles, irises almost vanishing or the way his laugh sends Chen’s heart skittering across his chest, reminding him of the celestial harps and the tinkling of bells when the angels gather around the city’s Cathedral or perhaps the sweet chirping of doves as they soared above the city’s skylines, feathers as white as the marble grounds below, or the wistful sounds his wings make as he glides and soars and drifts through clouds across an endless sapphire sky. Or maybe the way his dimple deepens when he grins wide and free at Chen or the way his fingers glides gracefully across guitar strings, soft voice floating around the room like melted chocolate or the way his body transforms into liquid as he dances like no-one's watching; an epitome of freedom, bliss and grace.
Or maybe the way Lay leans in slightly towards Chen as they talk, long legs bumping once in a while under the table which ends up with Chen retaliating and kicking Lay’s shins and Lay will pout and Chen feels like melting as he grins. The meaning flies from his mind, lost in the moment and later he will think it is not the fragility of life - he feels the fragility of the situation, the fragility of his heart. Chen thinks it’s oh so poetic and wow, he must have fallen far by now if he thinks poetically.
Chen learns that Lay’s a Business Major at the University nearby, that he frequents this cafe every morning otherwise he’ll end up sleeping through all his lectures, that although he majors in Business, he has no passion for it, heart set in music and the arts and only does it for the future prospects of a stable desk job and stable financial support.
As Lay walks him out of the cafe after another afternoon of sweet coffee and murmured conversations, Chen thinks he’s in too deep and he can almost feel the strings of attachment tugging at him as he disappears behind an alleyway just as Lay heads the opposite direction, lips and smiles and eyes still etched behind Chen’s eyes.
Chen takes a deep breath as he unfurls his pure, ivory wings, willing his heart to slow down and try not to think of pink lips and dark brown eyes (which reminded him of caramel) and soft smiles. It doesn’t work. And as he begins to fly upwards, he can’t help the feeling that he’s made his second mistake. He got to know Lay. And although they say ‘knowledge is power’, Chen thinks this kind knowledge will only bring him down.
-
The third mistake, he made after just a few days.
Another afternoon filled with mindless murmurs about anything and everything, with Lay sharing his Americano and chuckling as Chen grimaces with distaste, Chen kicking him under the table, the light of dawn framing Lay’s face forming an almost halo-like glow around him, brown hair a light caramel as he leans in and Chen thinks it’s just Lay ignoring the idea of personal space again when he speaks but soft, glittering eyes came closer and the feel of soft lips against his makes him freeze, but he soon responds, lost, completely lost.
They part and Chen stares wide-eyed, Lay smiles, chuckling at Chen’s expression. They walked in opposite directions again, all waves and smiles and as Chen touches his lips, the heat of Lay’s lips against his still lingering, he knows he’s definitely in trouble. He’s fallen. Or falling, a good kind of falling. Chen shakes his head, he can’t. No, he can’t.
His third mistake. But it doesn’t feel like one, Chen thinks.
-
“Well, aren’t you positively glowing?” Chanyeol teases as Chen lands almost clumsily on white marble. Chen sticks out his tongue childishly. “You seem different these days,” Chanyeol observes, crossing his arms and studying Chen as he leans against one of Cynosura’s giant roots.
“Yeah? How so?” Chen grins, hiding his fear deep inside. Chanyeol doesn’t know. Does he?
“Yeah,” the other smiles, deep voice carrying across the empty courtyard. “Happy. You look happy and your wings are glowing really brightly,”
Chen only chuckles in reply. A few seconds later and Chanyeol straightens, looking at something behind Chen. He looks confused. “Decided to grace us with your presence then?” he shouts out, teasing. Chen turns around.
Kris. Second- Sphere. Virtue or Stronghold. Their primary duty is to supervise the movements of the heavenly bodies in order to ensure that the cosmos remains in order. The words fleet across Chen’s mind as he registers a tall, blonde heading their way, a confident and commanding aura surrounding his towering stature.
“Yeah, problem with that?” he hears Kris reply with a smile. He still looks scary, Chen thinks.
Chanyeol only laughs in response, giving Kris a playful shove as he moves past him, he turns around to say “Too bad I can’t stick around though, have a celestial gathering or something to attend,” with an exaggerated eye roll, Chen and Kris laughs.
Kris’ laugh quietens as he turns to Chen, eyes scrutinizing, like his eyebrows aren’t intimidating enough, Chen thinks but keeps to himself.
“Careful, you might burn someone with that stare,” Chen jokes, elbowing the other.
Kris raises an impressive eyebrow. “Haha,” he says, so unemotional, offering a small smile as Chen makes a face. “You know, you should be careful,” that makes Chen wince, swallowing the sudden fear that spread over his chest. “With your human, I mean,” and Kris looks like he knows and Chen could only stare and nod in reply.
-
“Oh, hello little angel,” the stranger smiles, looking as confused as Chen felt, a frown gracing his gentle features. Chen blinks. He must be one of the new angels, he sure looked like one; light brown hair, sinfully pink lips, dark hazel eyes lined with midnight black and an enticing smile. But his aura, the reassuring peach tint of an angel was non-existent. The warm, calming hue of an angel’s glow... it wasn’t there.
Instead, as Chen examined closely, the dark lined eyes showed suppressed desire and mischief, the gentle smile looked almost predatory, hungry. Chen backs away slowly, trying to ignore the rapid beating of his heart and the voice inside his head that screamed something was wrong, that he should run. He watched as another figure emerged from behind the shadows.
“Hey, Ava, are you sure were in the right place?” the stranger asks, dark eyes on Chen. “Hm,” he tilts his head thoughtfully, innocently, as his eyes roamed Chen’s figure. “He reeks of Lust though... Interesting,” he smirks, like a predator cornering his prey.
“Yes, were at the right place and he’s the right guy. Naughty little angel,” he tuts, shaking a long, thin finger as he smirks at Chen from behind heavily lined eyes. “And it’s Baekhyun now. Ava sounds so much like a girl,” the one called Baekhyun cringes.
The other blinks. “But you do look like a girl,” Baekhyun gives him a shove.
“You’re one to talk,”
Chen stares, confused. “Who are you?”
“Oh. Sorry, so rude of us,” the first stranger offers a hand. “The name’s Luhan,” he smiles.
At the back, Baekhyun murmurs “Since when?”
Luhan carries on as if he hadn’t heard the other, a feral smile upon his pink lips which Baekhyun mirrored as he too stepped forward from the shadows.
Chen hesitantly shook the offered hand, noting how Baekhyun had very long, thin fingers, almost skeletal-like and as pale.
“Luhan, the personification of Lust,” Chen freezes, as Luhan sneers. “And this, is Baekhyun,” he pauses, exchanging dark looks with the other, a smirk permanently etched on their pale, almost gaunt features. The initial charm and innocence now gone from Luhan’s face as his mouth formed a smirk, morphing into a full grin, teeth and all. It reminded Chen of the Cheshire cat, as mischievous and terrifying, sharp teeth resembling fangs. “the embodiment of Greed,”
Chen steps back as the two advanced, fear coursing through his veins as the realisation dawned on him. No, no, no...
“You have been a very naughty angel, haven’t you?” Baekhyun murmurs, hungry eyes travelling the length of Chen’s body.
“I would have thought you little angels would have learned your lessons. What with Kai...” Luhan shakes his head in mock disappointment, but his eyes glinted, almost like he’s proud. “Who knew right?” he chuckles. “Angels sin too!” he shouts this in manic glee, a menacing grin on his innocent face as his midnight lined eyes burned red.
“Angels sin too.”
-
Chen paced around the courtyard, hands ruffling his brown hair in frustration, the conversation a few seconds ago running through his mind. He could still hear them; laughter filled with unrestrained glee as the moment those words left their sinful mouths, Chen had made a run for it, quickly unfolding his wings and soaring as far away from the two dangerous figures until they were only specks of black against the vibrant cityscape.
He could feel the rising panic against his chest.
“Luhan, the personification of Lust,” the voice echoed against his ears.
“Baekhyun, the embodiment of Greed,”
Luhan and Baekhyun; Luxuria and Avaritia, as they were more commonly known - two of the seven Princes of Hell. They rarely crawled out of the scorching abyss of hell. It is only when someone committed severe sins. And Chen was their next target.
Sitting down almost painfully, Chen runs a hand through his hair as he looks up at Cynosura. He frowns, tilting his head to look closely. The once bright cerise blooms seemed... faded? Lifeless? Chen’s eyes grew wide, standing up swiftly, it can’t be wilting right?
“What’s wrong, Chen?” said angel almost jumped at the deep voice. It was Chanyeol, looking at Chen curiously, then at the tree. “Wait, what’s wrong with-,” he turns to Chen, a similar frown on his face.
“I, I don’t know,” Chen whispers as Chanyeol stepped forward to gently press a hand against the chocolate-brown trunk. “Is she-,”
“She’s cold,” Chanyeol murmurs, running a hand against the bark before picking up one of her fallen blossoms, nothing happened for a few seconds as he cradled the light pink flower before it seemed to fall apart on his hand, crumbling into white dust, almost like ash. Chanyeol looks up with a panicked look.
“She's... dying,”
-
The soft sound of bells reached his ears as Chen stepped into the dimly lit cafe. He takes a deep breath; it has almost been two weeks since he last saw Lay. He looks around, catches Lay’s brown, almost suspicious eyes, before his lips broke into a more familiar smile. He waves Chen over.
“Where did you go off to this time?” Lay asks, still smiling.
Chen returns the smile as he sits across him, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve, I’ve been busy,” he murmurs, refusing to look into the other’s eyes. He takes a deep breath.
“Where do you go off to?”
With a staggering breath, he turns to look at Lay who was looking at him curiously, smile fading. “What do you mean?” Chen asks quietly, refusing to break eye contact even when his heart threatened to escape.
“When you disappear for days,” Lay elaborates, eyes focused on Chen’s own. “Where do you go off to?”
“I -,”
“I asked around about you, you know,” Lay adds, frowning. “asked around the University where you said you attend,”
“Well, that’s -,”
“No one knows you there,” Chen opens his mouth to stop the other, but Lay cuts through his words. “It’s as if you don’t exist.” Lay’s eyes seemed to study Chen’s face as the other opens his mouth, but no words came out. “Who are you? Who are you really, Chen?”
“I -,” Chen mumbles, looking everywhere but the other, swallowing against the fear and panic that seemed to strangle him, rendering him breathless. He inhales sharply when he sees a flash of blonde hair from his peripheral vision, disappearing behind an alleyway. “I’m sorry,” he says, barely a whisper, turning to Lay and studying his face for what might be the last time. “I can’t,” Chen breathes, before standing up, leaving the other wide-eyed and confused, leaving unspoken words along with the chime of bells.
-
The Elders were in the middle of a heated debate when Kris entered the empty, hexagonal room, six marble thrones occupying each corner. The room was empty but voices reverberated around the intricate room as six invisible figures argued, voices overlapping each other, creating a barely audible conversation.
“Another chance, I think they deserve another chance!”
“We’ve already given the angel another chance!”
“And he ended up kissing the human,” a voice laughs mirthlessly at the irony.
“Well, technically the human initiated it,”
“It doesn’t matter, they fell for each other!”
“We should have just stopped when the angel showed himself. Tell me again why we even waited for things to go this far?”
“Because were nice,”
“Please, you were just bored,”
“Cynosura is dying,” a grim voice interrupts, echoing solemnly against the angled walls. “Even the Princes became involved,” the loud chatter gradually died down into tense silence. “We need to do something now,”
Kris steps forward, standing at the centre of the room where against the white marble, a crimson flower connected all six thrones with interlocking golden ink. “What should we do with the angel and human?” Kris asks in a deep murmur, bowing at all six thrones in turn. There was silence at first, a pregnant pause as Kris waited, head still bowed.
“What we should have done in the first place,” a voice finally said, almost whispered with a hint of sadness. There was a resigned sigh.
Kris nods; it was his job as a Virtue. To send them down to hell, blind with fire and wings burnt off their backs, only their memory remains, all the regret and the agony of hell. Kris winces at his own thoughts. He’s used to sending them down there, but that doesn’t make it any less painful to carry out. As he slowly stands up straight, preparing to transform into the creature as red as fire and as merciless, whose tail will sweep those who disobeyed towards the fiery depths of hell, a light so blinding suddenly penetrated the crystalline windows.
“Stop.” A gentle hand was laid on Kris’ shoulder, stopping the transformation. He looks back; his eyes growing wide as he registers the smiling face, bright azure eyes, light brown hair cascading down a thin waist and six wings.
Boa.
Kris prepares to bow, but Boa stops him. “It’s fine,” she reassures, still smiling. She turns to the thrones as the Elders wait with bated breath. “Love so pure like that,” she begins, voice echoing and a dreamy sigh leaves her lips, eyes travelling across all six, seemingly vacant thrones. Kris watches from a corner as the petite figure emitted gold light, threads of gold transforming into images, moving across the air. Boa smiles as she watches. “I have another solution,” she murmurs, captivated by the moving images of two young boys.
Outside the arched windows, Kris sees the rising outline of Cynosura, long branches reaching out towards the sky, crimson blossoms blooming, budding with renewed life. A small bud grows and opens into a full grown radiant rich red blossom on a branch closest to the window. Kris smiles.
the end.
There are no explosions, or bursts of fire; the feathers do not burst into flames, turning into ashes, tainting the pure whiteness black. No. There was only silence as the white faded into gray, like a withering flower, until only black raven feathers remained. Those began to fade too, trailing up above him as black ashes until they slowly vanish, pale hands reaching out for something too far.
Time seemed to stop; an eerie silence, a sense of calm. Falling, falling, and as Chen watched the endless sky above become further and further away from his reach, he feels nothing, no sadness, or pain, or regrets. Nothing. He notes how it feels like flying, a smile threatening to tug at his lips at the memory. Of the freedom, wings spread wide, pure white feathers ruffling against the resistant wind; the wind whistling against his ears, oh so familiar, but amongst the shrill sound, a voice. That gentle voice which created a chain reaction, memories of dimpled smiles, bright laughter, wide brown eyes, pink lips...
He feels empty. That voice which he can’t place a name on, reminding him of the gentle strums of acoustic guitars and graceful, carefree steps, repeating a desperate mantra in his ears. “I’m sorry,” the voice murmurs, growing louder as the skies became further. “I’m so sorry...”
‘Why? Why are you sorry?’ Chen wanted to ask. ‘It’s okay, I forgive you.’ He opened his mouth but there was only silence.
A face, all soft features and blinding smile, fleets across his eyes, a mere memory, before there was darkness.
-
Falling, falling...
Brown eyes flash open, body jerking away from the mahogany counter as rapid breathing mirrors his pounding heart. He sighs, running a hand through his dark brown hair as he looks around. He takes a deep breath as the steady thrum of his surrounding reached his ears. He’s okay. He’s in the cafe, probably dozed off (again). He’s in the cafe, the reassuring scent of latte, caramel and macchiato enveloping him, the gentle murmur of unheard conversations fading into his ears. He’s in the cafe and he’s okay.
“Late night again, Jongdae?” Minseok’s voice floated from the back room, muffled against the familiar buzz of usual public chatter.
Jongdae chuckles, ducking his head as he messes with his hair. “Yeah, sorry, essays and exams are coming soon,” he murmurs, wiping a hand on his maroon apron, the feeling of falling still fresh on his mind, sending shivers up his spine. He shakes his head, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, willing his trembling hands to stop.
“That’s fine, just don’t fall asleep against the coffee machines,” Minseok smiles, shaking his head. “Now that you’re awake though, make yourself useful, there’s a customer,” he nodded towards the door as the chime of bells drowned from gentle murmurs, still smiling, nudging Jongdae by the shoulder.
“Welcome to 365!” Jongdae smiles. “What would you like today?”
The man in front of him seemed preoccupied with a book in his hand, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes fleet across the page, eyes scrunched up in concentration. Jongdae finds it adorable. He looks up for a second and smiles. “Just an Americano please,” Jongdae smiles in return and went to make the coffee. The man behind him turns back to his book, before he freezes. His eyes widen as he looks up.
“C- Chen?” he breathes.
Jongdae turns, Americano in hand. “Here you go,” he looks up, tilting his head in question at the other’s shocked look. “What’s wrong?”
“You - you’re -,”
Jongdae smiles, pointing to his name tag. “Kim Jongdae,” he chuckles, amused at the other’s still frozen face. “I know I’m good looking and everything, but please refrain from eating me with your eyes,” he bites his lip as the other splutters.
Jongdae smiles. “Sorry, let’s try again. My name’s Kim Jongdae,” he extends a hand. “What’s yours?”
chen!centric + chen/lay
pg-13. ~5500w
angst. romance. fantasy. fluff. character study. (angel!au)
prompt: fallen angel, chen, monster (big bang)
Cynosura. To humans it is the Polaris, the brightest star of the Ursa Minor. To the Hierarchy of Angels, it is the doorway between Heaven and Earth.
author's notes: because there's a lack of chen fics and chenchen is awesome and wow, how do you write long fics?
thank you for reading!
the beginning.
There are no explosions, or bursts of fire; the feathers do not burst into flames, turning into ashes, tainting the pure whiteness black. No. There was only silence as the white faded into gray, like a withering blossom until only black raven feathers remained. Those began to fade too, trailing up above him as black ashes until they slowly vanish, pale hands reaching out for something too far.
Time seemed to stop; an eerie silence, a sense of calm. Falling, falling, and as Chen watched the endless sky above become further and further away from his reach, he feels nothing, no sadness, or pain, or regrets. Nothing. He notes how it feels like flying, a smile threatening to tug at his lips at the memory. Of the freedom, wings spread wide, pure white feathers ruffling against the resistant wind; the wind whistling against his ears, oh so familiar, but amongst the shrill sound, a voice. That voice starting a chain reaction, memories of dimpled smiles, bright laughter, wide brown eyes, pink lips...
He feels empty. That voice which he can’t place a name on, reminding him of the gentle strums of acoustic guitars and graceful, carefree steps, repeating a desperate mantra in his ears. “I'm sorry,” the voice murmurs, growing louder as the skies became further. “I'm so sorry...”
‘Why? Why are you sorry?’ Chen wanted to ask. ‘It’s okay, I forgive you.’ He opened his mouth but there was only silence.
A face, all soft features and blinding smile, fleets across his eyes, a mere memory, before there was darkness.
-
Cynosura. To humans it is the Polaris, the brightest star of the Ursa Minor. To the Hierarchy of Angels, it is the doorway between Heaven and Earth.
A spirit which can take any form, it guides both angel and human.
To the humans, it is a fixed point in the constantly rotating endless sky, to the angels, a form of passageway to contact the mortal world. For some reason, it has taken the form of a beautiful cherry blossom tree, right at the centre of the City of Angels. In the mortal world, in a country called Japan, cherry blossoms symbolise the transience of life. The cherry-blossom tree is known for its short but brilliant blooming season, a natural process that metaphorically describes human life. While a fallen, withered cherry blossom symbolises a fallen samurai who sacrificed his life for the emperor.
The Cynosura overlooks the pristine, marble grounds of the city, its brilliant crimson blossoms a splash of life and colour to the monochrome and seemingly lifeless grounds. But lifeless it is not. For a city where celestial beings reside, the marble grounds appeared to gleam, intricate golden designs interlocking and intertwining across the grounds, threads painting the golden Tree of Life with five faceless silhouettes against the bare background, gold ink tracing smooth images of angels and even humans in an enduring, undying amity .
Around the cherry blossom tree, strands of gold seemed to reach out towards the city which encircles it, as if uniting each ancient building; the looming Cathedral with its weathered statues of higher beings, the city’s garden with its bright red, orange, yellow and green, even the residence of normal angels, blocks of marble houses with crystallised windows where the sun’s rays may sneak through, washing away the fragments of sleep from behind barely opened eyes.
At this particular time of day (at the crack of dawn, when the lights spills onto the darkened skies and the sun peeks from behind the mountains), the bottom of the tree glows an ethereal light as groups of angels gathers around it, hands clutching feathery quills, parchment on the other, bright eyes blinking as the light seeps into the sky, accompanied by a melodic hush, almost as if waiting for the goddess of dawn to paint the sky with shades of red, orange and yellow. But it was no match for the peachy light radiating from the angels’ delicate, ivory wings, curved behind their backs like wisps of smoke, the mist gliding along emerald fields after a rainy day.
A wide-eyed boy sat atop one of Cynosura’s larger roots protruding from the grounds, a large, golden tome in hand. He waited as the angels settled, a small smile playing upon his lips as some familiar faces waved in greeting.
“Today,” he speaks in a gentle, husky voice, which although quiet, carried across the crowd of angels. “We will learn more about the Hierarchy,” he smiles, opening the book. Immediately, golden streaks of light spilled from the yellowed pages, a few stray lights curled themselves around the tree while the rest became a stream of words which morphed into images, painting a large chart across the air in gold ink. A collective gasp rose from the crowds and a few clapped.
“I’ll never get tired of that,” an angel chuckles, leaning back against a tree root which reaches far into the city.
“Of course not, Chen,” a deep voice answers, belonging to a smiling angel, brown eyes flecked with gold as he looked up at the chart. “How does that old book do that?” he gives a breathless chuckle. “I mean it looks like it’s about to fall apart even when Kyungsoo holds it like a human baby,”
Chen chuckles in reply, eyes straying to the angel sitting by the tree. Kyungsoo. Third Sphere. Principality. Educators and guardians of the realm of earth; they are said to inspire living things to many aspects such as art and science. Chen smiles as this information fleets across his mind, like those golden words which flowed from the book. So fitting of Kyungsoo.
“Seraphims. The highest angelic class, under the First Sphere,” Kyungsoo begins and as he said this, the chart transforms into an image of a six-winged angel, golden threads weaving in the air, golden strands forming a set of wings so radiant, even when composed of golden ink that they seemed to glow blindingly white. It was an image of a young girl, soft features, a gentle smile. The crowd of angels gasped, eyes alight with awe and admiration. “Boa, part of the Heavenly Counselors.” Kyungsoo pauses, smiling at the crowd. “And whom, we haven’t even seen or met yet.”
“I wonder if we’ll ever see her,” the deep voiced angel murmurs, looking up at the image of Boa.
Chanyeol. Third Sphere. Arch Angel. Chen hums, eyes glinting with mischief. “You know what?” Chanyeol tears his wide eyes away from the golden image. “We probably already met her.”Chanyeol tilt of his head in question, frowning up at Chen from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the ground. “We’re not sure if she really looks like that right? Who knows, we probably know her,” Chen chuckles as Chanyeol’s eyes grew large. “Theory. It’s a theory, calm down,” he says, afraid the poor angel’s eyes were going to fall out of their sockets.
“Powers,” Kyungsoo murmurs, a finger tracing the words on the page, Chanyeol and Chen’s head snaps in his direction, the crowd goes silent. “Powers. Also called Authorities,” He repeats more clearly, eyes straying towards the gold strands of light as the image of Boa fades and in her place, a boy, about the same age as Kyungsoo, appears, hair a darker shade of gold, eyes so dark, they seemed to gaze deep into your soul.
Kyungsoo coughs, tearing his eyes away from the image and fixing it on the crowd. “The Powers are the bearers of conscience and the keepers of history. They are also the warrior angels created to be completely loyal to God.” His voice wavers slightly, but his brown eyes stayed focused, determined.
Chanyeol shares a worried look with Chen. “Their duty is to oversee the distribution of power among humankind.” Kyungsoo pauses and takes a deep breath. The next words were spoken in a murmur. “Some believe that no Power has ever fallen from grace, but...”
Chen looks up at the golden illustration. Kai. Second Sphere. Power. Fallen.
Kyungsoo clears his throat and smiles, closing the book as the image of Kai faded away into golden mist. “I think that’s it for today,” he smiles at the crowd and looked behind him. “The sun will be up in a few minutes,”
As the crowd of angels gradually dispersed, some disappearing through Cynosura to guide their assigned humans, Kyungsoo stayed sitting, eyes lingering on the space in which the image of Kai appeared a minute ago.
“I wonder...” Chanyeol murmurs, eyes on Kyungsoo as the boy looks down at the tome on his lap. “I wonder what happens to those who have Fallen.” He turns to Chen, worry etched on his face.
Chen shakes his head, mouth set in a line, turning away from the tree where the lonely figure of Kyungsoo sat.
No one really knows.
-
Angels weren’t meant to fall in love. They were assigned to humans, their guardian angel. Angels were meant to guide them (hence the word ‘guardian’), give them a gentle shove in the right direction, keep them away from trouble and protect them. That was it.
Angels weren’t meant to fall in love. Whether it be with humans or other angels.
That was the greatest sin an angel could commit.
-
Lay.
That was his name; the human assigned to Chen.
Of course, that’s not his real name. The Elders forbade angels from knowing the humans’ real names, keeps them impersonal, keeps the angels from growing attached, they said. Angels were also not meant to be seen, just a shadow, behind the scenes; concealed, but always there.
“Oh, hey Chen! Where have you vanished off to this time?” Lay waves from where he sat, a dimpled smile gracing his features with twinkling eyes.
That was Chen’s first mistake. (First of many, Chen thinks.)
-
It was actually an accident. How Chen showed himself to Lay.
When angels fly down to Earth, there is a moment, before they land, a few seconds where they are essentially human. Their wings become so transparent, they seem to disappear and the glow which protects them from human eyes becomes so faint that they are almost visible, translucent like a phantom.
Chen stumbles a bit, hand against a lamppost to steady himself as a wave of dizziness washes over him, when panicked honking and screeching tires made him look up.
His blood runs cold.
There, on the road was his assigned human, hand steady on an elderly’s shoulder as he guides her slowly to the sidewalk, oblivious to the massive, red truck heading straight towards them, the horn practically screaming for them to get out of the way.
Chen didn’t think.
In a flash, he had a hand on Lay’s back, the other on the elderly, his mind willing the truck to slow down while pushing the pair hurriedly to the safety of the sidewalk.
A relieved sigh escapes Chen’s lips as the truck zooms by, the two humans safe and sound on the sidewalk, where Lay offers the elderly a small smile, as he waves goodbye.
Lay looks up; looks straight at him. Chen freezes.
Lay smiles. “Thank you,” he breathes and Chen thinks he’s in trouble.
Trust Chen to meet his human in the most clichéd way possible.
-
“So, what’s your name?”
Chen swallows, feeling an urge to run. He can almost hear his mentor’s scolding voice, can almost feel the Elders’ frown upon him. He is in deep sh-
Lay smiles, distracting Chen from his thoughts, a cup of coffee snug in his hands. The steam floats happily above their heads. Chen thinks the steam may have clouded his mind.
“C- Chen,” he manages to murmur, too mesmerized by Lay’s smile to think of consequences.
“That’s a pretty name,” Lay smiles. Chen thinks he has a pretty smile. “My name’s Lay,” but of course that’s not what he said. Chen sees his mouth form a different name, one he cannot make out, but Lay was what he heard. “And thanks, you know for-,” he motions vaguely outside the window, looking sheepish.
“It’s fine,” Chen offers a smile of his own and Lay visibly relaxed.
A few seconds pass and Chen tries to conjure up ways to exit the conversation. He considers standing up and running away, he doesn’t even care if he embarrasses himself. He’s an angel. He doesn’t have to see Lay ever again.
“So, are you new here? I’ve never seen you before,”
You’re not supposed to see me at all, Chen thinks.
-
Somewhere up above, the Elders look on from their thrones. “Should we-?” a voice echoes across the hexagonal room, tinged with worry.
“No,” another faceless voice replies, humming. “No, we should give them a chance.”
“This is technically breaking all the rules,” another chuckles, amused. “But hey, they’re cute together,”
“Sh, Andy, I don’t think you’re supposed to find them cute,”
“But they are!” Another voice replies and soon all six voice became indistinguishable as they began to argue with glee.
“Alright, Elders!”
“We’re not even that old,” one murmurs, you can almost hear the pout in his voice.
There was a long suffering sigh. “We’ll see how this unfolds and decide,”
-
Chen thinks back to his lessons back in the city; of unknown words, rarely spoken yet beautiful even in silence. He’s back in the same cafe again; Lay smiling serenely in front of him. Chen’s lost track of how he came to this situation and somehow, he stopped caring.
A word drifts across his mind - ‘ambedo’ a ‘kind of melancholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details-raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees leaning in the wind, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee-which leads to a dawning awareness of the haunting fragility of life.’
Chen smiles back, nursing a cup of green tea; he’s somehow developed an addiction to human tea and coffee after their frequent meeting. Lay himself is completely addicted to Americano. Chen can’t stand Americano.
‘Ambedo’. Like the way Lay’s eyes crinkles into half-moons when he smiles, irises almost vanishing or the way his laugh sends Chen’s heart skittering across his chest, reminding him of the celestial harps and the tinkling of bells when the angels gather around the city’s Cathedral or perhaps the sweet chirping of doves as they soared above the city’s skylines, feathers as white as the marble grounds below, or the wistful sounds his wings make as he glides and soars and drifts through clouds across an endless sapphire sky. Or maybe the way his dimple deepens when he grins wide and free at Chen or the way his fingers glides gracefully across guitar strings, soft voice floating around the room like melted chocolate or the way his body transforms into liquid as he dances like no-one's watching; an epitome of freedom, bliss and grace.
Or maybe the way Lay leans in slightly towards Chen as they talk, long legs bumping once in a while under the table which ends up with Chen retaliating and kicking Lay’s shins and Lay will pout and Chen feels like melting as he grins. The meaning flies from his mind, lost in the moment and later he will think it is not the fragility of life - he feels the fragility of the situation, the fragility of his heart. Chen thinks it’s oh so poetic and wow, he must have fallen far by now if he thinks poetically.
Chen learns that Lay’s a Business Major at the University nearby, that he frequents this cafe every morning otherwise he’ll end up sleeping through all his lectures, that although he majors in Business, he has no passion for it, heart set in music and the arts and only does it for the future prospects of a stable desk job and stable financial support.
As Lay walks him out of the cafe after another afternoon of sweet coffee and murmured conversations, Chen thinks he’s in too deep and he can almost feel the strings of attachment tugging at him as he disappears behind an alleyway just as Lay heads the opposite direction, lips and smiles and eyes still etched behind Chen’s eyes.
Chen takes a deep breath as he unfurls his pure, ivory wings, willing his heart to slow down and try not to think of pink lips and dark brown eyes (which reminded him of caramel) and soft smiles. It doesn’t work. And as he begins to fly upwards, he can’t help the feeling that he’s made his second mistake. He got to know Lay. And although they say ‘knowledge is power’, Chen thinks this kind knowledge will only bring him down.
-
The third mistake, he made after just a few days.
Another afternoon filled with mindless murmurs about anything and everything, with Lay sharing his Americano and chuckling as Chen grimaces with distaste, Chen kicking him under the table, the light of dawn framing Lay’s face forming an almost halo-like glow around him, brown hair a light caramel as he leans in and Chen thinks it’s just Lay ignoring the idea of personal space again when he speaks but soft, glittering eyes came closer and the feel of soft lips against his makes him freeze, but he soon responds, lost, completely lost.
They part and Chen stares wide-eyed, Lay smiles, chuckling at Chen’s expression. They walked in opposite directions again, all waves and smiles and as Chen touches his lips, the heat of Lay’s lips against his still lingering, he knows he’s definitely in trouble. He’s fallen. Or falling, a good kind of falling. Chen shakes his head, he can’t. No, he can’t.
His third mistake. But it doesn’t feel like one, Chen thinks.
-
“Well, aren’t you positively glowing?” Chanyeol teases as Chen lands almost clumsily on white marble. Chen sticks out his tongue childishly. “You seem different these days,” Chanyeol observes, crossing his arms and studying Chen as he leans against one of Cynosura’s giant roots.
“Yeah? How so?” Chen grins, hiding his fear deep inside. Chanyeol doesn’t know. Does he?
“Yeah,” the other smiles, deep voice carrying across the empty courtyard. “Happy. You look happy and your wings are glowing really brightly,”
Chen only chuckles in reply. A few seconds later and Chanyeol straightens, looking at something behind Chen. He looks confused. “Decided to grace us with your presence then?” he shouts out, teasing. Chen turns around.
Kris. Second- Sphere. Virtue or Stronghold. Their primary duty is to supervise the movements of the heavenly bodies in order to ensure that the cosmos remains in order. The words fleet across Chen’s mind as he registers a tall, blonde heading their way, a confident and commanding aura surrounding his towering stature.
“Yeah, problem with that?” he hears Kris reply with a smile. He still looks scary, Chen thinks.
Chanyeol only laughs in response, giving Kris a playful shove as he moves past him, he turns around to say “Too bad I can’t stick around though, have a celestial gathering or something to attend,” with an exaggerated eye roll, Chen and Kris laughs.
Kris’ laugh quietens as he turns to Chen, eyes scrutinizing, like his eyebrows aren’t intimidating enough, Chen thinks but keeps to himself.
“Careful, you might burn someone with that stare,” Chen jokes, elbowing the other.
Kris raises an impressive eyebrow. “Haha,” he says, so unemotional, offering a small smile as Chen makes a face. “You know, you should be careful,” that makes Chen wince, swallowing the sudden fear that spread over his chest. “With your human, I mean,” and Kris looks like he knows and Chen could only stare and nod in reply.
-
“Oh, hello little angel,” the stranger smiles, looking as confused as Chen felt, a frown gracing his gentle features. Chen blinks. He must be one of the new angels, he sure looked like one; light brown hair, sinfully pink lips, dark hazel eyes lined with midnight black and an enticing smile. But his aura, the reassuring peach tint of an angel was non-existent. The warm, calming hue of an angel’s glow... it wasn’t there.
Instead, as Chen examined closely, the dark lined eyes showed suppressed desire and mischief, the gentle smile looked almost predatory, hungry. Chen backs away slowly, trying to ignore the rapid beating of his heart and the voice inside his head that screamed something was wrong, that he should run. He watched as another figure emerged from behind the shadows.
“Hey, Ava, are you sure were in the right place?” the stranger asks, dark eyes on Chen. “Hm,” he tilts his head thoughtfully, innocently, as his eyes roamed Chen’s figure. “He reeks of Lust though... Interesting,” he smirks, like a predator cornering his prey.
“Yes, were at the right place and he’s the right guy. Naughty little angel,” he tuts, shaking a long, thin finger as he smirks at Chen from behind heavily lined eyes. “And it’s Baekhyun now. Ava sounds so much like a girl,” the one called Baekhyun cringes.
The other blinks. “But you do look like a girl,” Baekhyun gives him a shove.
“You’re one to talk,”
Chen stares, confused. “Who are you?”
“Oh. Sorry, so rude of us,” the first stranger offers a hand. “The name’s Luhan,” he smiles.
At the back, Baekhyun murmurs “Since when?”
Luhan carries on as if he hadn’t heard the other, a feral smile upon his pink lips which Baekhyun mirrored as he too stepped forward from the shadows.
Chen hesitantly shook the offered hand, noting how Baekhyun had very long, thin fingers, almost skeletal-like and as pale.
“Luhan, the personification of Lust,” Chen freezes, as Luhan sneers. “And this, is Baekhyun,” he pauses, exchanging dark looks with the other, a smirk permanently etched on their pale, almost gaunt features. The initial charm and innocence now gone from Luhan’s face as his mouth formed a smirk, morphing into a full grin, teeth and all. It reminded Chen of the Cheshire cat, as mischievous and terrifying, sharp teeth resembling fangs. “the embodiment of Greed,”
Chen steps back as the two advanced, fear coursing through his veins as the realisation dawned on him. No, no, no...
“You have been a very naughty angel, haven’t you?” Baekhyun murmurs, hungry eyes travelling the length of Chen’s body.
“I would have thought you little angels would have learned your lessons. What with Kai...” Luhan shakes his head in mock disappointment, but his eyes glinted, almost like he’s proud. “Who knew right?” he chuckles. “Angels sin too!” he shouts this in manic glee, a menacing grin on his innocent face as his midnight lined eyes burned red.
“Angels sin too.”
-
Chen paced around the courtyard, hands ruffling his brown hair in frustration, the conversation a few seconds ago running through his mind. He could still hear them; laughter filled with unrestrained glee as the moment those words left their sinful mouths, Chen had made a run for it, quickly unfolding his wings and soaring as far away from the two dangerous figures until they were only specks of black against the vibrant cityscape.
He could feel the rising panic against his chest.
“Luhan, the personification of Lust,” the voice echoed against his ears.
“Baekhyun, the embodiment of Greed,”
Luhan and Baekhyun; Luxuria and Avaritia, as they were more commonly known - two of the seven Princes of Hell. They rarely crawled out of the scorching abyss of hell. It is only when someone committed severe sins. And Chen was their next target.
Sitting down almost painfully, Chen runs a hand through his hair as he looks up at Cynosura. He frowns, tilting his head to look closely. The once bright cerise blooms seemed... faded? Lifeless? Chen’s eyes grew wide, standing up swiftly, it can’t be wilting right?
“What’s wrong, Chen?” said angel almost jumped at the deep voice. It was Chanyeol, looking at Chen curiously, then at the tree. “Wait, what’s wrong with-,” he turns to Chen, a similar frown on his face.
“I, I don’t know,” Chen whispers as Chanyeol stepped forward to gently press a hand against the chocolate-brown trunk. “Is she-,”
“She’s cold,” Chanyeol murmurs, running a hand against the bark before picking up one of her fallen blossoms, nothing happened for a few seconds as he cradled the light pink flower before it seemed to fall apart on his hand, crumbling into white dust, almost like ash. Chanyeol looks up with a panicked look.
“She's... dying,”
-
The soft sound of bells reached his ears as Chen stepped into the dimly lit cafe. He takes a deep breath; it has almost been two weeks since he last saw Lay. He looks around, catches Lay’s brown, almost suspicious eyes, before his lips broke into a more familiar smile. He waves Chen over.
“Where did you go off to this time?” Lay asks, still smiling.
Chen returns the smile as he sits across him, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve, I’ve been busy,” he murmurs, refusing to look into the other’s eyes. He takes a deep breath.
“Where do you go off to?”
With a staggering breath, he turns to look at Lay who was looking at him curiously, smile fading. “What do you mean?” Chen asks quietly, refusing to break eye contact even when his heart threatened to escape.
“When you disappear for days,” Lay elaborates, eyes focused on Chen’s own. “Where do you go off to?”
“I -,”
“I asked around about you, you know,” Lay adds, frowning. “asked around the University where you said you attend,”
“Well, that’s -,”
“No one knows you there,” Chen opens his mouth to stop the other, but Lay cuts through his words. “It’s as if you don’t exist.” Lay’s eyes seemed to study Chen’s face as the other opens his mouth, but no words came out. “Who are you? Who are you really, Chen?”
“I -,” Chen mumbles, looking everywhere but the other, swallowing against the fear and panic that seemed to strangle him, rendering him breathless. He inhales sharply when he sees a flash of blonde hair from his peripheral vision, disappearing behind an alleyway. “I’m sorry,” he says, barely a whisper, turning to Lay and studying his face for what might be the last time. “I can’t,” Chen breathes, before standing up, leaving the other wide-eyed and confused, leaving unspoken words along with the chime of bells.
-
The Elders were in the middle of a heated debate when Kris entered the empty, hexagonal room, six marble thrones occupying each corner. The room was empty but voices reverberated around the intricate room as six invisible figures argued, voices overlapping each other, creating a barely audible conversation.
“Another chance, I think they deserve another chance!”
“We’ve already given the angel another chance!”
“And he ended up kissing the human,” a voice laughs mirthlessly at the irony.
“Well, technically the human initiated it,”
“It doesn’t matter, they fell for each other!”
“We should have just stopped when the angel showed himself. Tell me again why we even waited for things to go this far?”
“Because were nice,”
“Please, you were just bored,”
“Cynosura is dying,” a grim voice interrupts, echoing solemnly against the angled walls. “Even the Princes became involved,” the loud chatter gradually died down into tense silence. “We need to do something now,”
Kris steps forward, standing at the centre of the room where against the white marble, a crimson flower connected all six thrones with interlocking golden ink. “What should we do with the angel and human?” Kris asks in a deep murmur, bowing at all six thrones in turn. There was silence at first, a pregnant pause as Kris waited, head still bowed.
“What we should have done in the first place,” a voice finally said, almost whispered with a hint of sadness. There was a resigned sigh.
Kris nods; it was his job as a Virtue. To send them down to hell, blind with fire and wings burnt off their backs, only their memory remains, all the regret and the agony of hell. Kris winces at his own thoughts. He’s used to sending them down there, but that doesn’t make it any less painful to carry out. As he slowly stands up straight, preparing to transform into the creature as red as fire and as merciless, whose tail will sweep those who disobeyed towards the fiery depths of hell, a light so blinding suddenly penetrated the crystalline windows.
“Stop.” A gentle hand was laid on Kris’ shoulder, stopping the transformation. He looks back; his eyes growing wide as he registers the smiling face, bright azure eyes, light brown hair cascading down a thin waist and six wings.
Boa.
Kris prepares to bow, but Boa stops him. “It’s fine,” she reassures, still smiling. She turns to the thrones as the Elders wait with bated breath. “Love so pure like that,” she begins, voice echoing and a dreamy sigh leaves her lips, eyes travelling across all six, seemingly vacant thrones. Kris watches from a corner as the petite figure emitted gold light, threads of gold transforming into images, moving across the air. Boa smiles as she watches. “I have another solution,” she murmurs, captivated by the moving images of two young boys.
Outside the arched windows, Kris sees the rising outline of Cynosura, long branches reaching out towards the sky, crimson blossoms blooming, budding with renewed life. A small bud grows and opens into a full grown radiant rich red blossom on a branch closest to the window. Kris smiles.
the end.
There are no explosions, or bursts of fire; the feathers do not burst into flames, turning into ashes, tainting the pure whiteness black. No. There was only silence as the white faded into gray, like a withering flower, until only black raven feathers remained. Those began to fade too, trailing up above him as black ashes until they slowly vanish, pale hands reaching out for something too far.
Time seemed to stop; an eerie silence, a sense of calm. Falling, falling, and as Chen watched the endless sky above become further and further away from his reach, he feels nothing, no sadness, or pain, or regrets. Nothing. He notes how it feels like flying, a smile threatening to tug at his lips at the memory. Of the freedom, wings spread wide, pure white feathers ruffling against the resistant wind; the wind whistling against his ears, oh so familiar, but amongst the shrill sound, a voice. That gentle voice which created a chain reaction, memories of dimpled smiles, bright laughter, wide brown eyes, pink lips...
He feels empty. That voice which he can’t place a name on, reminding him of the gentle strums of acoustic guitars and graceful, carefree steps, repeating a desperate mantra in his ears. “I’m sorry,” the voice murmurs, growing louder as the skies became further. “I’m so sorry...”
‘Why? Why are you sorry?’ Chen wanted to ask. ‘It’s okay, I forgive you.’ He opened his mouth but there was only silence.
A face, all soft features and blinding smile, fleets across his eyes, a mere memory, before there was darkness.
-
Falling, falling...
Brown eyes flash open, body jerking away from the mahogany counter as rapid breathing mirrors his pounding heart. He sighs, running a hand through his dark brown hair as he looks around. He takes a deep breath as the steady thrum of his surrounding reached his ears. He’s okay. He’s in the cafe, probably dozed off (again). He’s in the cafe, the reassuring scent of latte, caramel and macchiato enveloping him, the gentle murmur of unheard conversations fading into his ears. He’s in the cafe and he’s okay.
“Late night again, Jongdae?” Minseok’s voice floated from the back room, muffled against the familiar buzz of usual public chatter.
Jongdae chuckles, ducking his head as he messes with his hair. “Yeah, sorry, essays and exams are coming soon,” he murmurs, wiping a hand on his maroon apron, the feeling of falling still fresh on his mind, sending shivers up his spine. He shakes his head, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, willing his trembling hands to stop.
“That’s fine, just don’t fall asleep against the coffee machines,” Minseok smiles, shaking his head. “Now that you’re awake though, make yourself useful, there’s a customer,” he nodded towards the door as the chime of bells drowned from gentle murmurs, still smiling, nudging Jongdae by the shoulder.
“Welcome to 365!” Jongdae smiles. “What would you like today?”
The man in front of him seemed preoccupied with a book in his hand, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes fleet across the page, eyes scrunched up in concentration. Jongdae finds it adorable. He looks up for a second and smiles. “Just an Americano please,” Jongdae smiles in return and went to make the coffee. The man behind him turns back to his book, before he freezes. His eyes widen as he looks up.
“C- Chen?” he breathes.
Jongdae turns, Americano in hand. “Here you go,” he looks up, tilting his head in question at the other’s shocked look. “What’s wrong?”
“You - you’re -,”
Jongdae smiles, pointing to his name tag. “Kim Jongdae,” he chuckles, amused at the other’s still frozen face. “I know I’m good looking and everything, but please refrain from eating me with your eyes,” he bites his lip as the other splutters.
Jongdae smiles. “Sorry, let’s try again. My name’s Kim Jongdae,” he extends a hand. “What’s yours?”