Archive of Our Own ^beta

Donghyuck is a spy, not a thief. Rummaging through Mark Lee’s room is a purely professional matter. 

The angel is a mystery: quiet, handsome but gloomy-looking, from an influential household among angels, with rumored amazing abilities no one knows shit about, and the most gorgeous, obsidian black wings Donghyuck has ever seen. And Headmaster Lee said he wants an eye on all of it. What for? Donghyuck doesn't care.

See, Donghyuck always gets what he sets his mind to. Studying in the prestigious Academy is just the beginning of his life. With all their big cities, skyscrapers that actually touch the clouds and elevated bureaucracy… it's a dream he can work his way into. And info on Mark Lee of the Lee’s and Suh’s is his permanent ticket  — do someone powerful a favor and nothing will keep you from your heavenly goals, not even being human . 

He guesses, he’s greedy like that. 

(Plus, Headmaster Lee also promised him unlimited fried chicken. You might think it's a cheap offer, but you'd be surprised to know how touchy angels are about eating winged-animals. They call it solidarity, Donghyuck calls it bullshit and a superiority complex. Overgrown birds, sheesh).

Anyhow, the boy tries not to get distracted, he’s a man on a mission. 

Mark Lee could have been the Angel of Death. Wings of Fury. Lord of the Night. But his nickname, like his room, is mostly broody, mopey and rule-sticking. Seeing the little stuff the angel has around his room makes the human boy think that maybe Little Black Duckling was, in fact, the most suitable description for Mark Lee. Shame . 

And yet, he has his own room. That's not to be ignored: only kings and freaks get personalized cages… that's enough to poke at Donghyuck's interest.

That's when he hears the door unlock. He knows at that moment, he’s fucked . 

Naturally, the most reasonable thing to do is for him to lay down on Mark Lee's bed, smirk on his full lips, hands behind his head and legs crossed at his bony ankles like he owns the place. 

The angel boy drops all his shit on the floor, eyes plate-wide open. Donghyuck chuckles. Mark didn't even think of reaching for the sword at his side (pompous motherfuckers often carry one, for honor and all that jazz). 

“Where in heaven are your manners, feathers? Didn't even knock,” Donghyuck chastises. 

The boy's mouth flaps open and close in hesitation, before he noticeably breathes in and stills himself. “These are my chambers,” he declares in that calm, angel fashion that grates the human to no end. 

“And I'm occupying them at the moment, jeez,” he sighs dramatically. Mark squints at him. “So moody. Tough day?”

“How did you break in?”

“Not even a hello? How are you? What's your name?” Donghyuck whines, batting his eyelashes, still on the bed, having the most fun since he got here. 

“I locked the door.”

“Yeah, not the window, my halo-ed friend.” He rolls over, grabs the ledge of said window — and jumps out. 

“Wait!!!”

Donghyucks always loved the idea of flying. Rappelling is pretty close.

When he looks up, he sees Mark Lee bending over, looking at him with panic on those pretty eyes of his. And the human boy almost feels bad. Must not know of his reputation, then. 

***

Little Black Duckling Report#1

Target is perfect. Room is a little messy, but that's about it. Nice dude, powerful enough not to have a roommate, apparently, and excelling at everything according to school records. Awesome black wings.

I request more time to handle the investigation. A subtler approach is needed for the target. Closer contact is the strategy most likely to succeed. 

***

Proven that his sneaking in didn't get him the bite into the big beef like he expected it to, Donghyuck decides to try another tactic —  it's not stalking, it's simply observing, okay? Kinda. He's a spy, not a creep. 

Problem being, he doesn't manage to find anything through observation either. Like, nothing other than confirming that Mark is edgy enough to make his eyes water — or maybe Donghyuck’s allergic to birds, who knows.

A more direct approach, it is. Pickup-lines and embarrassment never fail. And Mark is at the library every day, without exception. 

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” He asks, receiving the cutest, most confused head-tilt in this sky. Taken, Earthly pickup lines don’t make that much sense up here. 

“My Lord! You've made me believe in modern revelation!” he says as he follows Mark into the library yet again. The angel pays him no mind, and so Donghyuck gets more creative. 

Next day he says: “Hey there, angel. I think you lost your halo when you fell from heaven. Fancy dinner with sin incarnated?” He gestures at his body, Justin-Bieber-Pout on his face. He gets a sigh that borders on a scowl, and counts it as progress. 

He follows with a strong: “I love astronomy, allows me to watch heavenly bodies,” he bites his lips. Mark rolls his eyes, closes his book and leaves without even bothering to glare at him. 

Just like that, days go by, in and out. It's a matter of patience, he's sure. He already caught Mark complaining once. 

(“Renjun, help me. He will not stop talking to me,” he hears the angel whine. “How do you do it?”

Donghyuck scoffs. Excuse him, he's not an idiot. He knows Renjun is not an afternoon angel (or any-time-of-the-day angel, if we're being honest). He doesn't want to be obliterated off the face of Earth — heaven, whatever).

Anyhow, it doesn't matter. Donghyuck is sure he can break Mark. He just needs one more little push. And he thinks he knows what it is. 

It's really weird that he didn't notice it before, with angels being so generally preppy about their wings. But Mark… well, let's just say that he spluttered, glitched and blushed furiously when Donghyuck made a comment on his wings. Who knew a plain and simple: “What kinda Red Bull you drinking to have such nice wings?” would have that impact. 

Donghyuck is an upstanding citizen, a model for society, you know. If he's gonna scandalize Mark Lee, he's gonna do it right, with something he likes . It's called basic decency. 

And so, the human boy walks up to Mark's table like he does every day, nonchalant as always. Then, he lets his fingers graze the arch of the angel's right wing, thumb and forefingers touching the silk-smooth feathers as he asks, voice smug and eyebrow quirked: “Made in heaven, I presume?”

Donghyuck doesn't think he's ever seen someone lose their crap that quickly. Seriously, record-time for Mark Lee. In the blink of an eye, his wings close up behind his back, he drops his books, picks them up and gets the hell out of Hyuck's sight.

“He really fuck-this-shit-I'm-out- ed me, huh?” he asks, looking at no one in particular. Chills run down his spine when motherfucking Huang Renjun replies. 

“Human manners are lacking, to say the least. However, such disrespect will not be tolerated by the Academy. Molest another angel and you will find yourself reported, Lee.”

What now?! Molest?!

“Woah, hold up! What?!” he asks like the dumbass he is. 

“Wings are rather personal. Not meant to be touched by others,” the short yet terrifying angel scoffs at him. 

It downs on Donghyuck then, that he's the one who should be dropping his shit and running with the best prepared apology in existence. He's a spy, not a bitch — most of the time, anyway.

“Shit.”

Donghyuck is pretty new at this thing. He doesn’t really understand much of what goes on in angel society yet. Like, he’s literally here to learn. But he can accept an honest mistake of his own, and, jarring as it is, know that Little Black Duckling Lee deserves an apology. 

***

He waits by the library the next day, fidgety and so unlike his usual self.  Shame at being anything less than perfect is not a feeling he’s unused to, but he tries to avoid it as much as he can handle it. 

Mark doesn't come. 

Good thing that Donghyuck is a damn great spy and knows most of his hideouts. He doesn't wanna keep intruding, but he has to get this apology out of the way. ‘Cause even if he's an annoying ass most of the time, he doesn't want Mark to hate him, and he really is sorry.

He runs up to the clock tower, climbs up the wooden ladder into the back of the clock, dust lifting off the old tiles. 

At first, he's surprised by the quietness, nothing but the wind whistling. That is, till he notices a dark, long flight feather just outside of the ledge. He leans in to see the angel asleep, sprawled out on a sort of balcony (?) he'd never seen before. 

Donghyuck doesn't wanna be Edward Cullen-Creepy or corny… But he can't help the little upward tilt of his lips at the sight; wings out and proud, muscles relaxed, feathers dancing to the wind, brow unfurrowed and eyes closed — so different from his usually guarded expression. The one thing that sets Donghyuck off are his hands: fists clenched, crossed over his torso in a protective getsure, maybe from the weather, maybe from the world. 

The human doesn't bother to think about what he's doing. Livin' la vida loca and all that crap. He just takes off his cloak, drapes it over the sleeping angel. An extra layer for whatever he wants to keep so close to his chest. 

He remembers to write a note, if only to get his cloak back someday. 

Not tryin’a be creepy, just friendly. Think we got off the wrong foot/wing. Hope we can start again someday. 

Maybe it's not professional. Donghyuck considers this a break-time activity, anyway. Business can wait for tomorrow. 

***

Donghyuck, like Renjun, is not a morning person. He engaged in the savagery of midday classes at the cost of afternoon chores and homeworks for the sake of sleeping in, in the mornings. 

That said, he should get a ‘Do not disturb’ sign on his handle. Maybe that way, a bird with an over-inflated ego wouldn’t be knocking on his door at fucking 8 a.m.

He leaves his bed, zombie-walks his way through the room and opens the door with the full intention of sending someone straight to hell. That is until he sees a very red Mark Lee. 

They’re both stunned speechless for a moment. 

“Look, I’m sorry for touching your wing the other day. I didn’t know but still, sorry. Won’t happen again,” he apologizes quickly and firmly, eyes on Mark’s (mostly, he’s still trying to keep them open). 

The angel ducks (Donghyuck is hilarious) his head, feathers fluttering, bashful in a way that’d make Donghyuck squeal if it wasn’t in this context. If he wasn’t a man on a mission. 

“Thank you. I appreciate it… and this, too,” he hands over the folded cloak, looking more nervous than he should. 

Donghyuck just doesn’t wanna miss the chance. Like, Mark Lee came to him, it’s the motherfucking universe saying something. Gotta be. 

“What does it feel like? Flying?” He asks before he can regret it. 

Mark’s head shoots up in surprise, pink lips forming a cute little ‘o’. Taken, it’s not the kinda question you expect from someone who’s been following you religiously — and rather suspiciously. 

In his defense, he doesn’t expect Mark’s answer to be: “Rather windy,” either. 

He laughs loud and clear, with his head back and the tanned column of his neck exposed. “You’re funny, halo. You should drop the harp-playing and become a comedian.”

The angel squints at him, head tilted sideways in confusion. “I do not…”

Donghyuck waves a dismissive hand his way. “It’s alright. I declare truce,” he says with a winner’s smile. “Wanna have lunch together later?”

God, he’s so cute . Donghyuck knows that angels aren’t saints, but he hadn’t experienced temptation by one of them. It doesn’t matter what Donghyuck says, Mark keeps blushing and being so gut-squeezing, smile-catching, cuteness-overloading adorable . 

As soon as it starts, it’s over, though. The pink of his cheeks doesn’t disappear but the stoic, unreadable mask he wears is on again, wings pulled close to his tense body. 

“What is in it for you?”

Damn. Kid must’ve been played pretty badly before. Donghyuck feels himself hesitate, feel bad about it. 

Then, he remembers his role. The stakes. 

“Got no idea where you get those muffins with the blue icing, and they smell fantastic,” he jokes. But Mark doesn’t smile. He sighs: “Us freaks gotta stick together.”

Mark’s expression doesn’t change one bit. Scarily so. His wings though, those beautiful, dark wings extend menacingly.

“I’m not a ‘freak’,” the angel spits out, more of a whisper than a threat — or assurance. He turns to leave, but Donghyuck has never been known for his prudence. 

He grabs on to the sleeve of Mark’s robe, unafraid as no human should ever be of an angel. 

“Is it so hard to believe that I want your company?” He asks. This uncomfortable, little sting pokes at his stomach, chanting the words lying snake over and over. 

A look of bewilderment crosses Mark’s face. “...Why?”

“Been bothering you long enough to notice you’re not as much of a dick as those uptight, piece of jerk angels,” he shrugs, a little truth to settle for the lies. 

Mark’s wings seem to come down a bit, not as threatening as before. A faint smile touches his pretty mouth. “As much?”

“No conclusive data yet, feathers,” Donghyuck plays along. “I’m Lee Donghyuck.”

“Mark Lee.”

“From the Lee’s and Suh’s?” He asks, if only for confirmation. Mark’s eyebrows furrow a bit but he nods. “So, breakfast?”

Donghyuck doesn’t think he’s ever been this anxious over a hangout invitation. Maybe this job is really challenging to him, after all. 

Mark doesn’t speak. He presses his lips together, bites down nervously. He looks away, red ears and feathers fluffed, as he gives a curt nod. 

“Five minutes,” the human boy says as he closes the door, and changes out of his pj’s faster than he’s ever had. 

He smiles shamelessly at the angel as they walk down the hall, talking his ears off for sure. 

***

Little Black Duckling Report#2

Target is really cute. Especially when annoyed. Blushes a lot (gets fluttery-feathered, too). He’s reserved/shy/quiet? Overall nice. 

***

It starts off with them eating lunch together almost every day — mostly ‘cause it takes time for Donghyuck to crack the egg (lol, he's a comedic genius). 

As he’s learned in his last month over the Academy, an angel would probably address his situation as “Forming withstanding interpersonal relationships might prove itself a complex quest, as it requires a wide range of social skills and values bla, bla, bla”. Vulcan-like shit this, Vulcan-like speech that. 

Donghyuck likes to summarize it as: making friends is so fucking hard for absolutely no reason. Just. Is. Shit. God bless Twitter moots ‘cause most irl’s suck. 

And, clearly, it’s harder when you don’t come from the same society, have nothing in common, and the person you befriended has serious trust issues and/or is super quiet. They can’t share like, classes or gossip or anything . 

So, Donghyuck has to make a very active effort to become Mark Lee’s friend. 

He's a spy, after all. A man on a mission. And he could really use some info on angels, if he's honest. Won't be able to do much of a passable job otherwise. It'd be like going to the U.S. without knowing who Beyoncé is — it's going in blind!

Okay, maybe he's being a tiny bit dramatic considering he was allowed to come study here so that he could learn the best of both worlds, like Hannah Montana. He just wishes he could progress faster (and maybe have the occasional call home). 

So, Donghyuck learns his angel alphabet and legends and spells and absolutely feels like first-year Harry Potter — amazed, lost and dumb. 

Mark does help out, though. Not that Donghyuck couldn't handle it on his own, he was picked for a reason, you know; he's stubborn and feisty as they get. Still, it's great to have someone willing to solve all his seemingly obvious questions. 

Thing is, Mark is so nice. He exceeds polite on so many levels. He's quiet most of the time, but he sits beside Donghyuck in invitation. He never seems annoyed by his questions and he gets this excited edge to his voice whenever he talks about history and he seems to listen to Donghyuck with so much attention… He’s, well, Mark Lee is something, alright. 

And maybe in another life, in a different situation, Donghyuck would've loved to take his time to meet Mark, even underneath all the niceties. But right now, that's not the case. 

Donghyuck needs an acceleration, quickly (ironic as it sounds). ‘Cause he's not looking for schoolmate-available information on the angel, he needs the juicy stuff. At the moment, all he knows is what he's been able to notice: Mark is kind, likes sweets, sleeps late, loves sports, is a rule-stickler and doesn't like his wings. Anyone willing to pay attention would be able to see it. 

Problem is, every time Donghyuck tries doing literally anything but studying or talking about studying, Mark shoots him down. 

“You should duel with me,” he tries again. He's seen angel friends do that. 

“That is not allowed,” Mark replies like he always does. 

The human boy rolls his eyes. “Won't hurt anyone.”

“You cannot know that.”

That's just about it . Mark worries all too much about everything to give away anything. And Donghyuck doesn't really understand why when he could perfectly get away with it. Like, it's come to the point where Donghyuck, or anyone at school for that matter, doesn't know what Mark's abilities are. 

He really didn't want to do this. But he needs to share something personal, something more than enough. Giving away your leftovers isn’t sharing, it’s charity. He’s looking for secrets, not sympathy. And that requires a bit more honesty.

Someone's bound to give in first.

***

Donghyuck being Donghyuck,  makes a completely unnecessary, over-the-top dramatic show out of it. He sends a note to Mark at night, saying he should meet him in his room by dawn. Don't tell anyone , he wrote.

When he hears a soft knock on his door, he rushes over to open it and strides back in. 

“Waiting for a written invitation, your holy highness? C'mon,” he urges the angel in. He pulls at the arm of his robe, purposefully avoiding the confused tilt of Mark's head, how excited his wings make him look. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Yes,” Mark answers, looking more and more confused by the second. A tiny bit worried, but Hyuck needs the charade, it's part of his attention dose of the day, okay?

Naturally, he makes a fuss about the secrecy of this whole ordeal, repeating over and over again that no living soul can know about this until Mark looks so constipated with worry, that Hyuck takes mercy on him. “If someone finds out, I'll be Ipod-less.”

“Excuse me?”

Donghyuck should totally be in drama school. He's a spy and a pretty good actor, if you ask him. 

He remains quiet, bringing a small, silver square out of his pocket. Out of functionality alone, he should've brought something newer than an Ipod Shuffle, but angels are weird about technology (not really into it since magic is a thing, and all). Headmaster Lee is great, but he wouldn't have allowed it — Donghyuck had to keep it on the low-low, you understand. 

He takes his earphones from their hidden spot under his pillow. Hands one to Mark all too expectantly for the job requirements.

“What are these?” Mark asks, taking the earphone between thumb and forefinger, ever careful. 

Fondness spreads in Donghyuck's stomach without his permission. “Humans use them to privately listen to something recorded,” he explains, trying to make it as simple as Mark does for him. “Here, like this,” he places his own earphone in his ear, gesturing for Mark to do the same. 

Then, he presses play. 

He lets the music wash over them, from MJ to regional music his mom likes, to pop songs he sings with his sister and tunes that take him back to earlier years. He lets all the favorites he's accumulated during the years in this timeless little machine go through him with no order whatsoever. And he lets Mark listen too. 

As Gen Z would probably say: sex is great, but sharing a playlist with someone who’s willing to listen feels a thousand times better. 

You know how humans do this thing where they show someone something they like, and watch their reactions instead? Kinda feels nice to see Mark so into the music like that. 

The first few songs, he limits himself to be intrigued. But, as they go on, Donghyuck can see he’s actually feeling them. He looks mildly amazed, sometimes a bit scandalized, sometimes thoughtful. 

It’s funny and new to Donghyuck, to explore his forever-favs playlist through Mark Lee’s eyes. 

Damn. He’s more nervous than the first time he participated at school’s spelling bee — shouldn’t be, it’s not like it should matter all that much. He reminds himself it's part of an arrangement Mark isn't even aware of; his vulnerability is a strategy, not a choice. Meant to puncture a shield, not link them together. 

Yet… “How do you like my secret?” Donghyuck asks as he presses the pause button, voice barely above a whisper. 

Mark takes a second to answer, the corners of his eyes crinkled from his smile. “It’s a wonderful secret.”

Donghyuck lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. A relieved smile touches his lips. 

He’s truly glad — probably not for the right reasons. 

***

Mark Lee Report#3

Likes: watermelon, music (playing and listening, wants to learn how to play the guitar), sweets, pastries, rain, stay-in days, books, silly jokes, winning, his older brother, studying. 

Dislikes: breaking rules, jerks, uncertainty, hot sauce, his wings. 

***

His noise music changes things. They start going up to study at Hyuck’s room, sharing earphones ‘cause Mark insists on finishing the playlist. 

And then, when the angel starts using a couple of phrases from the songs (simple stuff, like ‘Hey, yo!’ and 'Wassup’ and contractions!), Donghyuck fights hard not to melt into gushing mush. 

More so, Donghyuck starts finding out actual tea on Mark Lee of the Lee’s and the Suh’s. Example 1: he doesn’t play the harp like good angels should, but he plays the piano. He’s working on a JB song cover, and it’s coming along awesomely. 

As a spy, he’s conflicted about the pride tryin’a shine it’s way out of his chest for every human detail Mark learns about. As a person, he’s guilty over the very first thought he has when he sees Mark play; I’m getting somewhere . 

Tuition isn’t paying itself, though. So whatever his doubts are, too bad.

Trading secrets cannot be the only basis of a friendship. He also needs something that’s theirs . Their secret, not just his. That creates compromise — at least that’s what he tells himself. 

And that single idea starts off a series of sneaking off to anywhere they can, really. They have lunch in a classroom for the fun of it, and play at crossing the line into the forest for no more than 10 steps and running back with winning smiles, and studying on the library’s floor simply ‘cause it is forbidden. 

Sure, at first Mark is all fidgety and flighty (lol), wings either drawn back in tension or hovering over them like a shield. Which is why they’ve done mostly nothing, Donghyuck knowing that Mark is not comfortable with handling risk. But, bit by bit, he comes to discover the boy behind the angel. 

It unlocks a whole new Mark Lee. A different version Donghyuck couldn’t have imagined: free to tell jokes and laugh loudly and ask questions and wonder and speak his mind and remain comfortably quiet. Donghyuck likes this Mark, who uses words he learns in songs and punches his shoulder when he’s done with his teasing. 

It’s only after a strong Rift that Donghyuck realizes just what it means . 

Angels are pretty prepared to handle emergencies, so the alarms go off a couple of seconds before the first tremor hits. 

No one screams —  in fact, they all become very quiet, echoes of the howling winds across the corridors. Then, everything comes into motion; the angels exit the room quickly, rhythmic footsteps on stone, with Donghyuck trying to follow behind. They don't stop until they get to a safe-room that looks more like a box than anything, considering the metallic walls. 

Donghyuck follows instructions, heads for the back. He sees some students crying, some cool as ice. Some are just generally impolite. 

“Move it, human ,” some winged jerk says before elbowing his ribs with motherfucking angel strength and almost knocking him over. He's lucky, really, that the guy behind him has steady footing and doesn't let him fall. 

“Thanks,” Donghyuck smiles. Although it must look like a painful grimace judging by the other angel's expression. 

“Perhaps, I can provide aid for your injury,” he declares. And, without waiting for further words, he drags the human boy behind him, guides him to sit against the wall and places a hand on his ribs and a hand on his shoulder. There's a soft glow coming out of his palms, and suddenly, Donghyuck is feeling much, much better. 

Donghyuck opens his mouth to blabber about how awesome that ability is when the hand on his shoulder is yanked back… forcefully, if you ask him. 

“I was looking for him. If you'll excuse us…” Mark bursts in, eyes dark like Hyuck has never seen them before (it sends a shudder down his spine).

Sometimes, Donghyuck forgets the difference between Angel Mark and his Mark — well, not his , but you know. Outwardly, he’s so much more quiet and reserved, always polite but a bit intimidating with all that focus and intensity. But with Hyuck he’s gentler, shyer, warmer. 

(Or maybe he’s the only one who’s ever dared to bite into the crusty-looking brownie that’s Mark Lee — only to find out he has a wonderfully mushy inside).

The other angel scoffs loudly, not caring enough to hide his annoyance and yet, too afraid to do anything about it. He turns to Donghyuck. “Until we meet again,” he bows his head just a tiny bit, winks and smirks like no angel is supposed to do. 

So maybe Donghyuck's cheeks feel a bit hot. But only a bit. And maybe it's not so much about Mark as it is about Donghyuck apparently having a wing-kink? Angel fetish? Maybe???

He'll figure it out later, he has his hands full of a wrongly-ruffled angel at the moment. Please hold. 

“Hey, halo. You alright?”

Mark's feathers come down slowly, as if they're deciding the threat is gone. His gaze goes up and down Donghyuck's body, eyes caress-soft and so different from a few seconds ago. He sighs, stares intently at the human boy. “I am fine. Are you?”

He thinks about it; there was initial shock and alarm. Some assholes. But then, there was Mark. Probably, his body is gonna panic the second he's out of danger and survival-mode is turned off. That's a problem for near-future-Donghyuck, though.

“Good, your friend helped me,” he replies sincerely. 

Now it's Mark who scoffs. “I am not fond of him.” Hyuck tilts his chin up, asking for an explanation. “What is that expression you use? A stick up his… rear ? Well, he has a whole oak tree stuck up there,” he mumbles. 

Donghyuck stifles a laugh. God, thank you for making such cute, angry, little beans and turning them into angels , he thinks. He places a placating hand on Mark's (pretty defined — not that it matters) bicep. “He was nice to me.”

“He was reckless,” Mark cuts in. “Healing without proper knowledge can do more harm than good.”

Warmth erupts in Donghyuck's stomach. An actual, pain-free smile paints his lips upwards. He bumps his shoulder against the angel's. Shit, it's most definitely a Mark thing. 

“Know what'll make me feel better?” he asks, eyebrows up. When Mark shakes his head no, Donghyuck leans in, mouth grazing his ear, and whispers: “Secret handmade pastries.”

Mark seems to hold still for a moment too long, looking stunned. Then, he chuckles, tension leaving his wings, his body. He nods and stays seated by the human boy for the rest of the time they spend there. 

Really, Donghyuck sneaks off with the excuse of pulling out juicy info, but he keeps coming up with nothing more than a couple of Mark quirks and thoughts and smiles that fill him up with fluttering feelings. Every goddamned time. (And he doesn’t really wanna stop). 

***

“Living among the sky means dealing with phenomena such as wind rifts,” Mark explains patiently to him as they mix the batter for Hyuck's pastries. “Like living on Earth could mean earthquakes. They are common occurrences.”

“So, you are actually overgrown birds.”

Mark lets out a scandalized squeak that makes every comment worth it to Donghyuck. “Angels came before birds. In any case they’re flaky angels,” he rants.

“Uh-huh,” he teases as he pours the batter into the mold.

Mark presses his lips tight together, gets this mischievous glint in his eyes Donghyuck rarely sees. “You do realize that if your metaphor makes me a bird, it makes you an ant, right?”

“Woah, you don’t have to be salty about it, angel,” the human boy replies, voice playful.

“What do minerals have to do with it?” Mark squints his eyes, tilts his head sideways, looks absolutely adorable.

“Human expression. Means kinda angry,” Donghyuck explains. 

Mark squints even more, if that's possible. “Why?”

He shrugs. “I didn’t invent the language, birdie .” He puts the mold in the oven, starts cleaning off their big-ass mess. He briefly considers the pros and cons of cooking and realizes that, as comforting as this cozy, secret thing of theirs is, he could spend time with Mark doing something that doesn't require as much clean-up, probably. 

Anyway, he picks up spoons, spatulas, a bowl, a platter (when the fuck did they use all this crap?). Apparently, the floor is also dirty. And well, Donghyuck is a human; he trips and falls on thin air like he was born for it. 

He’s a spy, and a ninja — for everything except walking on a straight line. Oops . 

And you know how angels are so much cooler than humans ‘cause they’re like, super-powered and have all these awesome abilities and shit? As it turns out, their ears and eyes are particularly sensitive. Dropping cutlery puts them in fight-mode. 

The more you know, huh.

It all happens so fucking fast, Donghyuck isn’t even sure exactly how it happens. 

There’s a very loud pang , followed by a shrill clack and sudden realization. Donghyuck lets out the breath he was holding. 

“Did you just… throw a pan at me?!”

“It didn’t hit you,” Mark breathes, eyes wide and chest heaving like he’s the one who Matrix-avoided a flying pan. 

“Nope. But, ouch ! My feelings !” He mock-complains from the floor, dramatic hand on his clavicle. To be honest, he’s playing already. This is not the first scare of today, and he’s two seconds away from bursting into laughter. 

“Would you look out for yourself more, please?!” 

Donghyuck looks up, surprised, his smile erased from his face. He gapes like a dumb fish, so stunned by the angel’s concern that he can only let out a quiet: “Yeah, sure.”

They start picking up everything, both of them exhausted from a long day. Usually, Donghyuck would joke it out and be done with it. But Mark just keeps glancing at him like he's gonna disappear into thin air or fall on his ass and die. 

Logically, Donghyuck smacks his head with a dirty spatula, left-over batter sticking to his beautiful raven hair. “Don't worry, be happy, feathers! Said the great Bobby McFerrin. It'll be okay.”

Mark gives him a dejected look. “You can't know that.”

Donghyuck sighs, licks the spatula in his hand and shrugs. “Exactly. Why worry if you don't actually know?”

And Mark… well, Mark looks at him like he just grew a second head or maybe a pair of wings of his own. But Donghyuck stands his ground. In fact, he picks up a bowl, dips his fingers in the remaining batter and yeets it at him. 

“Hey! What was that for?”

“Didn't see that one coming, huh? And we’re still kickin', your celestial honor,” he bows slightly, teasing grin back on. 

“You remind me of my brother,” Mark says rather suddenly. 

Donghyuck blinks. “Does he like you dirty? ‘Cause, that’s kinda creepy,” he smirks. 

Mark’s face scrunches up. “Don’t make it odd, I mean that you both have free spirits.”

The human boy chooses to let it go, since it means Mark opening up. And he needs this for the job, for the simple fact that he misses his own brother and sister, and for all the wrong reasons. He doesn’t only need it, he wants it too, but that’s irrelevant — should be. 

So not the point. Instead, he asks: “What's his name?”

Mark smiles the kind of smile that only ever comes to him when he’s happy the way kids are happy; with pure, unbreakable joy. “Johnny.”

“He the better-looking brother? Maybe you should introduce us,” he teases back. 

Mark bristles much like he did in the safe room before, feathers spiked and eyes steely. This Mark Lee looks a bit more than annoyed and maybe even jealous(?)… nah , no way. “ He thinks I made you up… and I think he has a secret boyfriend.”

“Well damn, I’ll have to settle for your pastries then.” 

Mark apparently thinks that rolling his eyes is enough of a good response, so Hyuck throws more batter at him, naturally . He should've really thought it through, though, 'cause half of the stuff falls on Mark's wings and the angel gives him a look that speaks of pure devilishness as he flaps them. At Donghyuck. 

Every speck of dust, flour and literally anything in the kitchen falls on Donghyuck. (He's not even kidding, all his front is covered in white).

“I’ll throw another pan at you,” he snickers, not even trying to sound threatening. 

“Oh, you're on, halo.”

***

Mark Lee Report#4 (draft)

He's reserved (with good reason). He's too good for people, but I wish more angels could see him, how wonderful and caring he is. I kinda wanna keep him to myself a bit, be one of the few who are special enough to truly know him. I don't want anyone to hurt him. He'd forgive them, and they wouldn't be worthy of his forgiveness. He's too precious for the world.

Mark Lee Report#4 (final version)

Subject is caring, nervous, understanding, funny, cute, hot. No further comment.

***

A couple of days pass, nothing much happens. Things calm down after the latest Rift, even when there wasn't any damage. 

Donghyuck deals. It kinda takes a bit for his body to let go of the shock and actually let it out. He’s fine and normal during the first night after, and then he sleeps three days straight and develops a spidey-sense for way too small tremors he didn’t notice before. He wishes his mom was here, or that he could hear her comforting voice rather than just read her weekly letter. Thankfully, the strongest itches and longing only last a couple of days, and he comes back unscathed. 

He spends time with Mark, as per usual. 

Until it’s not that much of a usual thing anymore; Mark shows up at his room after curfew. 

“Is Mr. Holier than thou being naughty?” The human asks with a quirked eyebrow as he opens the door. 

Mark huffs. “I think you would describe it as sneaking out. With me .”

Donghyuck is a spy, and a good actor. While he’s bewildered by the proposition, he exudes nonchalance. “Where, ever, did you leave your manners, feathers?”

Mark’s lips press into a thin line, the way they do when he’s mildly annoyed but considering. He sighs. “ Please sneak out with me?”

Hyuck doesn’t think he’s ever grinned so big and happy. “Lead the way.”

Mark has been surprising Donghyuck since he accepted him for lunch the very first time. Having an angel take his hand shouldn’t be a big deal to him — but it is. 

Mark takes Donghyuck’s fore and middle fingers into his and pulls him behind him. For one, Hyuck is very impressed by the practicality of this hand-holding method. Much more comfortable than interlaced fingers. Smart angel. 

And two, his heart is kinda doing back-flips in his chest. It’s annoying as fuck. 

They walk for a little while. Mark guides them through endless halls and stairs and dark passageways in an attempt to avoid main routes, Donghyuck supposses. It feels like the kinda adventure he’d been looking for when he signed up at the Academy. Very Hogwarts-ish. 

They get into an old room — forgotten, if the dust is anything to go by. But Mark is here often enough not to hesitate once, not to even look over all of the stuff in the room. He heads straight for an ugly green tapestry on one of the walls and removes it to uncover what looks like a clandestine tunnel. 

Secrets behind walls, huh. Classic . 

“How did you find this, feathers?” awe shines through his voice. It’s not a small tunnel, it’s fucking massive and deep as hell just at first glance. How could anyone get away with this and have no one notice? Angel abilities are a thing but this is… this looks like the work of months, maybe even years.

Mark fidgets nervously yet again. He doesn't look the human in the eye as he mumbles: “I— I made it…?”

“You asking or declaring?” he seeks for confirmation. Mark smiles a bit guiltily and that's enough of an answer. “Woah… More than a fancy duster or overgrown chicken, I see,” he teases as he pinches Mark's bicep. 

The angel yelps. Then chuckles, sounding relieved. He takes Hyuck's hand again, and they keep walking. 

God, there’s so much left-over power in the tunnel, that even the human can feel it vibrating against his skin. It’s not even completely dark, although it’s underground, there’s this sort of remaining glimmer that allows Donghyuck to be able to see as they walk. 

Mark doesn’t mention how it was that he made this, but Donghyuck knows enough angel abilities that’d manage to: the super strength, maybe with some sort of electromagnetic interference, or pyrokinesis… maybe some other rare ability. Maybe a mix of them.

Donghyuck should be very scared, feel like an ant next to this black-winged angel and his warm eyes — instead, he feels lucky. To see this, to be here, to have Mark show him. 

He gets it. Mark is powerful and mysterious and that can be fucking terrifying. And someone’s gotta be the trophy. But pedestals are lonely, and he can’t begin to imagine how scary that was for Mark . 

No wonder he built his man-cave. 

After eons of walking (does Mark do all this every time he comes? Shit, man, no wonder he has a perfect bubble-butt), they get to a ladder. They climb up, Donghyuck first, with Mark following after. The human opens a wooden hatch like any you’d see in an Indiana Jones movie. 

Light streams in. And Donghyuck’s mouth falls wide open with amazement once more. 

It’s beautiful. 

There are cream walls and a huge-ass bookshelf, all covered by a glass roof — are they called stained glass? Skylight? He doesn’t know, but it’s stunning; miles of clear skies over them. 

That doesn’t even cut it. When Donghyuck forces his eyes away from the starry night above, he sees a grand piano, surrounded by books, notebooks and black feathers on the floor and on the table and all over the place, actually. 

It’s so… Mark Lee. 

Things seem to be out of order and have a place at the same time. They all look kinda worn, thoroughly loved. And there’s this quiet innocence, shy reservation, loud joy… about this room. Everything reminds Donghyuck of the angel. 

His fingers graze the back of the piano; he’d love to hear Mark play here, in his safe place. But Mark has been way too silent and fidgety, his wings all flighty (pun intended)... and Donghyuck has time.

He hasn’t handed in one single report on Mark but the first one. It’s been a couple of months already, so it probably won’t matter. He can wait. There’s no need to pressure the angel with questions he’s not willing to answer — and Donghyuck’s not ready to ask. 

He feels a painful squeeze on his heart, the sudden urge to comfort the angel with pretty words and emotive hugs. But that's never been his style, and it wouldn't matter if it was. He's a spy, not a friend. He isn't allowed to care, for his own good more than anything. 

He tells himself he's doing a job when he tries to brighten up the room. 

“I dare you, prince Mark Lee, son of your mysterious parents, brother of free-spirited Johnny, righteous angel with the best manners, brightest halo and darkest feathers, to break into an acapella battle with me!!”

Mark’s lips quiver up, smile slowly reaching his eyes. Then, his gaze meets Hyuck’s and laughter bursts out of his mouth. He nods. 

Donghyuck pushes his sleeves up his forearms and launches into song. Surprisingly, Mark is able to keep up, tongue expertly delivering the lyrics he learned in the human’s playlist. 

It makes Donghyuck feel ridiculously proud. Until—

“Is that a song? I will catch you if you cheat, Hyuck,” The angel says, suspicious. 

“Is that a—?! Blasphemy! It’s Michael Jackson, he’s a legend!”

Mark does the cute, confused head-tilt that Donghyuck definitely doesn’t fall for. “I know most legends around here and I haven’t heard that one.”

“Of course I've shown you MJ, duckling,” he rolls his eyes, way more fondly than he should. 

“What happened to the princely title?” Mark teases him, smug grin on his pretty face. 

“I’m revoking it. Since MJ is king and you don’t know him, you must be an impostor,” he chides. Mark keeps laughing.  

They spend the night away like that. And Donghyuck does, in fact, fall asleep in his spell class, but it’s totally worth it — to sing until his throat goes raw, and watch Mark’s light-up expression with dawn’s sun, and hear him giggle at stupid jokes that are only funny ‘cause of their lack of sleep… he’d gladly fall asleep through all of his classes. 

***

After the whole tunnel thing happens, they get into a certain dynamic; it’s a daily mix of study buddies, partners in crime, and whatever the hell clandestine karaoke in Donghyuck’s room makes them. It’s all good and fun. 

Donghyuck’s been getting the juicy bits, the tea, the filling… for the reports he’ll definitely hand in soon (somewhere in the near future but not immediately right now, you know?). Although, he doesn’t like to think about it that way — ‘cause it’s an unfinished job, obviously, no other reason. 

To be honest, he kinda likes Mark. He’s a nice boy, for an angel. He’s determined to be the best at whatever he tries, he’s smart yet naive when it comes to humans, he’s an optimist with trust issues (which is a little confusing, not gonna lie about it), he’s devastatingly kind in the most unnoticed ways. He might be an outcast, but only ‘cause he's (kinda intimidating with the wings and) so incredibly special — objectively speaking, in Donghyuck’s eyes he’s just another guy, clearly .

Whatever. 

None of that matters, anyway. What matters is actually that people start noticing it. Them . 

They ask so many fucking questions. Like, it's not even the pyros (angelic equivalent of highschool jocks, for further reference) who are insisting and asking him to their table and all that shit. Even the godforsaken magic chess club wants to hang out with him. 

The very first time it happens, Donghyuck tries to be polite. He tells Mark he's having lunch with some other guys, asks if he wants to come along. Mark's wings tense behind his back, folding in before he makes up a flimsy excuse about homework. So, Donghyuck goes in alone and cannot even say he's disappointed. 

Gossipy harpies, all of them. Has he mentioned the superiority complex? 'Cause a lot of angels seem to have a big superiority complex and a toxic addiction to everyone else's business. He's a spy, not a rat — he has a moral code. 

Then there's Mark, who looks outright surprised to see him sitting at their usual table the next day. The guts to doubt him, really. (He smiles so prettily though, sparkling eyes and all).

So, Donghyuck gets his hands in the dirt for the angel. His human ass doesn't need spellwork to hex someone. The prank is easy enough; he passes a slip of paper saying he's got tea on Mark Lee, and if they want in, they should meet him in this skimpy room on the east wing this afternoon. 

He's all good and merry, things in time with the plan, until he tries to haul Mark's holy ass along. 

“Where are we going?” he asks, the slightest tremor in his voice, so unlike himself. That's when Donghyuck takes a moment to look at the angel; shoulders and wings uptight, expression closed off. Anger and sadness get tangled in the human's chest, and god , he hates people —  and angels. 

He pulls at the sleeve of Mark's sweater, brings him close enough that he has to look Hyuck in the eye. “Trust me? It's a good surprise, promise.”

He drags a silent Mark into the upper part of the room, where they can see everything but remain unseen. He puts his forefinger against his lips as he smiles at the angel. He pulls at a single string and hell breaks loose. 

(Don't ask him where he got that amount of eggs to drop on jerk angels. It's a secret).

Mark's mouth falls open, eyes wide. “You are insane.”

“Gonna be a bitch to clean off those pretty wings of theirs, I bet,” Donghyuck grins wildly. Mark rolls his eyes, corners of his lips uptilted.  And Hyuck can't help but add: “Not as nice as yours, feathers. Black wings are the coolest.”

The angel's blush climbs up his neck and doesn't stop till it reaches his ears. It fills Donghyuck with a giddy, proud feeling. 

“Are you afraid of nothing?”

“If I tell you, it won't be a surprise anymore.” He's the one to take Mark's hand this time around, and they take off running. 

They laugh and run stupidly, like they do in every romcom Donghyuck's ever watched. They're missing the rain, but that's inconsequential. They go through the halls without reins, fingers interlaced and sunshine in their smiles. 

Then, Donghyuck slams into a crystal door. Don't ask why, he's too busy fainting. 

***

Donghyuck wakes up in a dark bedroom. He opens his eyes slowly, comes to his senses even slower. He registers little more than the bed he’s lying on, the night sky he can see through the window and the angel whose head rests by his lap. 

His hand moves on its own, he swears , when it comes to gently tangle itself on Mark’s dark locks. 

You know how cats wake up? All at once and startled, but sleepy? Heavy eyelids, cute blinking, scrunched nose? Well, Mark wakes up like a cat. It’s fucking adorable . Ugh. 

“Hyuck!” He whisper-yells. Donghyuck swears the angel’s eyes fill with tears. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to— I-I am sorry. Please—“

Donghyuck frowns, puts his hand over Mark’s mouth, silencing him rather forcibly. He can feel the quick beat of his heart where his thumb touches the edge of the angel’s sharp jaw. 

“What are you apologizing for? My dumbass is the one who walked into a door.”

Mark visibly swallows, his wings twitch. Donghyuck takes his hand off. “I— I couldn’t find your keys so I brought you to my room. I checked everything and you seemed to be fine so... Sorry.” 

The poor guy looks so distressed, Donghyuck just can’t take it. “Nah, thanks for healing me,” he offers a sincere smile, making a show of stretching his muscles (which actually don’t hurt at all). Mark lets out a relieved breath. Until curiosity gets the best of him. “By the way, I’ve never asked what your abilities are…”

Mark folds his wings tightly against his back, straight as a ramrod and unmoving as a couch potato. He tries to shrug but it looks nothing if not unnatural. “Oh, uh, the usual.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Surprise paints his face, something like disbelief crosses his eyes. 

“Okay. And thanks for, you know, taking care of me after I ninja-headbutted a window.”

“Door.”

“Potato, potahto.”

“Huh?” He does the cute head-tilt thing. Then shakes his head no, clearing his thoughts. “I’m, I am not sure if it was the right thing to do. I am not really qualified enough, and my abilities... but I panicked and just…”

Donghyuck understands what Mark is trying to say. He knows he doesn’t like risks and remembers how mad he got at the other angel who helped Hyuck out during the Rift. He also sees that Mark freaked out and did what seemed best at the moment. 

(Don’t tell anyone, but Donghyuck would probably trust Mark with his life. Even if Mark had used the good ol’ Flynn Ryder “that’s a terrible decision, really”). 

“Give yourself some credit, feathers. I swear it won’t change my image of Humble Mark Lee,” Donghyuck reassures him. And he’s not lying.  “You did good.”

The angel’s wings unwind (lol), dropping to a more relaxed stand. There’s an odd silence where Donghyuck has to physically look away ‘cause Mark keeps staring at him like he hung the stars on the sky or something. 

 “Thank you,” he replies sheepishly. 

“Now, stop brooding and let me see how much of a view you’ve got.” He doesn’t waste time, he throws the covers off and heads for the window on steady legs. 

“Watch it, crystal in front of you.”

“You’re such an ass. I’m injured,” he cries dramatically as he seats by the window, patting the space at his side for Mark to follow suit. “So? How did you enjoy my black out?”

Mark takes his place beside Donghyuck, doesn’t even complain when the boy rests his head on his shoulder. More so, Donghyuck can feel the silky warmth of a wing going around him, a bit hesitant, but there . 

“I thoroughly enjoyed the peaceful silence,” he declares smugly. 

“Don’t look so happy about it, you overgrown bird ,” he whines in return, giving him a tiny pinch that must feel like nothing to an angel. 

***

Things get back to normal — or as normal as they get when you're in school full of overgrown, super-powered birds. (And one of them is a worrywart).

But then there are these moments . And no, Donghyuck didn't do the dramatic emphasis, you did. He's absolutely sure. Shut up.

Anyways, he's a spy, not an idiot — he can see the signs. There's clearly something, a feel-ish thing brewing here. Between him and Mark. He isn't sure if it happened somewhere between sneaking out or sharing secrets or making adventures of their own, but he knows something has been happening for a while. 

He just wanted to have proof before doing something rash, like losing his only chance at staying at this school for an unrequited crush. You know, Donghyuck's middle name is Planner.

So, here's the thing. It's kinda stupid, you've been warned. Say, out of all the things he was expecting to make his heart flutter, it wasn't Batman (like, he loves Batman, he has taste for comics and movies, is a years-long fan, but that's not the point). And out of all things he expected Mark to do, it wasn't watching movies with him 'cause 1) Mark doesn't usually take the initiative and 2) He's an angel and they tend to be (conveniently) technologically impaired. 

They were in the library, like they always are. With Mark being all fidgety, like he often is. And Donghyuck got impatient, like it rarely happens, obviously. 

“Spit it out, halo.”

Mark swallowed. “Would you… would you like to watch a movie? With me?”

Donghyuck's mouth flapped open. He looked at the angel with wide, confused eyes until it hit him. “Naughty halo, I see.” He found the blush that painted Mark's cheeks incredibly satisfying. “How?”

“Ways.”

“Oh, so dodgy . Me likey,” he teased with a smirk. “What are we watching?”

“Batman,” the angel blurted out, looking a bit embarrassed. He rubbed the back of his neck and quickly added: “You probably watched it already, but you need rest and I couldn't—”

He could try to tell you he did it for the job, but that'd be a stretch even for him. He did it 'cause Mark is lovely when he gets excited and Hyuck's heart might just beat its way up his throat if he didn't say it himself. 

“Batman? What's that?”

He felt so dumb . And yet, Mark lit up like a christmas tree as he launched into an explanation full of big hand gestures and fast-paced words. It's so totally worth it. Plus, he gets wing-hugged later. Big bargain.

That's exactly the thing. Donghyuck is not a spy, he's just a boy. 

***

Mark Lee Report#5

Mark Lee is not perfect, but he's as close as anyone can get. Nice to everyone, pays attention when people tell him stuff, talented, smart and hard-working. Endearing when he doesn't understand something and willing to learn. Can't cook to save his life but it's impressive how hard he tries. Talkative, interesting to listen to (his laugh>>>his voice, though). 

He's a good person, such a cool angel and even better friend. 

***

Donghyuck can't pretend that he's gonna hand in his latest report. He doesn't even bother to finish it. 

Sharing adventures, sharing music, sharing spaces... it’s showing without telling. It's a shielded vulnerability — open but locked. He wants it all bare and raw and unblocked for him. 

He’s always been too greedy for his own good. 

Donghyuck knows there’s a part of knowing that can only come through time and joint history. But there’s something intriguing about coming to know someone new; knowing their character instead of their facts. 

Problem being, Hyuck kinda knows Mark. Sweet, thoughtful, sensitive Mark. Who wants to learn to play the guitar and loves pastries a little too much and gets excited over dumb human things. Silly Mark, with his loud laughter and sparkly eyes and badass black feathers. 

Donghyuck doesn't usually freak out, it's not in his nature. So, when he starts feeling the symptoms of a freak-out, he panics and goes batshit crazy. You know, succeeding like always. 

Then again, his very first instinct had to be denied. He could not, under any circumstances, consult with Mark Lee, master of freaking out, for very obvious reasons. Too much complicated shit he didn't sign up for — directly, at least. He should be compensated for emotional damage. 

He sends a resignation letter. 'Cause James Bond would be classy about resigning, and he's a role-model in the industry. 

He gets sent to the headmaster's office in his very next class. 

It's a very nice office, a tad bit eccentric (like its owner). Wooden furniture, colored paintings and a bunch of objects Donghyuck has never seen before. A very angry man with spiky black hair, badass earrings and tiger-printed shorts. 

“For personal reasons I'm pulling out of this investigation?!” he scrubs his face in frustration and Donghyuck cringes. “That information is of utmost importance to me! I'm headmaster!”

The human boy takes a deep breath, reminds himself it's the right thing to do; he'll find another way around to get the future he dreams of. He's more stubborn than that. “I'm not selling him out,” he declares. After a second, he adds: “ headmaster ,” 'cause he's kinda bratty like that.

Headmaster Lee rubs his temples with two fingers. Then, he throws a very fancy-looking paper in Donghyuck's direction. 

~~~ Save the date ~~~

Johnny & Ten

Invite you to bear witness to their wedding

“Motherfucker.”

“Correct!! I'm marrying his brother — that's the plan. I'm meeting the family over spring holidays, and while Johnny finds me delightful, I have few clues about his family. I will not play at disadvantage,” Headmaster Lee paces, hands in the air in clear frustration. 

Donghyuck can't stop gaping for all that's sacred and holy. 

“But Mark, he's just the brother, right?” he asks. 

“Johnny talks miracles about the kid,” he moans. Then, he rights himself on his feet. “He matters to Johnny and so he matters to me. Don’t ever tell anyone I told you that or I’ll drop you off the school's sky-limits.”

As we’ve stated before, Donghyuck is a planner. Consequently, he says the first thing that comes to his mind in order to resolve the situation. 

He might not be a spy, but he’s still a good actor — improv runs through his veins. 

“Mark can spend the holidays with me. Buy you time to get a feel on the rest of the family first.”

A scarily authentic Cheshire Cat grin opens up headmaster Lee's face. “ I knew I brought you for a reason.” 

High stakes, high earnings, right? So the human boy doesn’t just nod and keep his mouth shut, he tries to make a deal. “I want my tuition insured for it,” he declares. 

Even though angels don’t have fangs, he swears headmaster Lee does. He ain’t a cat, he a shark. And Donghyuck might as well be a piece of steak for the looks of it. 

“Devilish, little human. You got yourself a deal.”

***

Technically speaking, getting an adult angel the papers to travel to Earthen soil should be really easy. Customs are short-staffed though, and the external migration office (hilarious, isn't it? since they're birds and all? lol) is slow as fuck. 

Headmaster Lee makes it work. Donghyuck doesn't know how, but he's always known the guy was a powerful angel in all manners of speech. That considered, it wasn't that hard to get Mark the papers. 

And, the young angel practically throttled Donghyuck into a hug when he asked him to come along to meet his family. The human almost squealed out loud from the cuteness, but was able to hide it with a grunt of pain at basically being tackled by a fucking angel . 

So, it's a surprise when Mark shows up late for their departure. And looking… annoyed? Donghyuck raises an eyebrow.

“Johnny thinks you're real, and a scam. At the same time,” he explains with a roll of his eyes and a huff. 

His other eyebrow joins the first along his hairline, arms crossed over his chest. “Protective much?”

“Only over me,” Mark shrugs. 

“Good,” his reply slips past his lips, sounding way more decisive than appropriate. Thankfully, headmaster Lee shows up to transport/zap/beam(?) whatever-it's-called-when-angels-teleport them to ground level. 

They appear in Donghyuck's childhood bedroom, with his blue covers and old MJ posters on the walls. While the room looks the way he left it, it feels different; maybe it has something to do with his parents cleaning up before their arrival, maybe it's all about Donghyuck being a different boy in the same room. 

He doesn't think things have changed much. Then again, you don't notice how fast you grow up until you look at pictures. How quickly time goes by until you bring up a memory and you catch on to the fact it's been a year (or five) since you made it. 

When he was first accepted into the Academy, Donghyuck was ecstatic. The moment he left, he was teary-eyed and terrified. During his stay at the Academy he was hopeful and disappointed and homesick and happy. Returning feels almost nostalgic. 

Honestly, he’s dying for a mom-hug. Heck, he’d probably pay to bicker with his siblings right now. Jeez, time away has really changed him. 

He’s still reasonable enough to turn to check on Mark, though. 

He finds the angel by his side, brown eyes wide and wandering through the room, mouth a little ‘o’, and — no wings. 

Mark looks… like a boy. Like any other boy with his dark hair and rumpled hoodie and amazed expression. It makes Donghyuck’s heart thump weirdly. 

The door bursts open, a boy with brown hair running in. Mark sucks in a steadying breath. 

“I thought you were bringing an angel friend…?”

“Jisung! Say hi, at least,” Donghee chides him as she too, walks in. “Hey, nice to meet you,” she offers a smile to Mark. 

Donghyuck throws his arms around them both, holds them close for a few seconds. While he could certainly cry, he chooses to wrestle with them a little.

“Guys, this is Mark. My angel friend,” he declares with a winner’s smile. 

“He has no wings, though,” Jisung points out, looking at his older brother skeptically. Like, Hyuck is a prankster but even he couldn’t have handled that level of clown-assery. 

“He hid them ‘cause they’re too big to fit in the room,” he lies, tongue out childishly. (He doesn’t miss the pink hue on Mark's cheeks).

“Hello! Thank you for inviting me into your home,” Mark gives a small bow. 

“Mom is so excited to meet you!” Jisung says as he takes Mark’s sleeve and drags him out of the room. Donghyuck giggles as he waves him goodbye. 

Mark looks nervous but undoubtedly happy. 

Of course, Donghee sees more than she’s supposed to, as usual. “You’re screwed.”

“Am not.”

“Exactly your issue.”

“Ewwww. Also, watch that mouth, young lady.”

“Admit it, he’s too cute for you to resist,” she sighs. “And you have an angel kink.”

“You do too!! Hypocrite,” he whines. The motherfucker just shrugs, shameless as she’s always been. “Anyway, where was I when they were handing out normal lives?”

“Sleeping in.”

“Touché.” Some truths can’t be denied. One way or the other, and as annoying as it is, at least now he knows he can rant to someone, in the light that his crush is already obvious to Donghee. “Let’s go, baby sis.”

***

Like boy, like family; Donghyuck’s mom hugs the life out of him, and he hugs her back just as hard. Arms enveloping each other, with his face nestled in the crook of her neck ‘cause she smells like his childhood and home. 

He might not look it, but he knows what it’s like to be homesick at home. When Donghee left for an exchange program, he almost went out of his mind. 

You can try to blame his dramatic ass, but it’s true. The first few days, you enjoy the peace and the attention and the free time. Then, weeks go by and you notice the dining table is quieter; you find yourself looking at their side of the room, expecting to see them there; you miss the midnight talks and lame jokes while on cleaning duty. Even when you’re the one who’s home, you carry their absence with you. 

Donghyuck thinks he missed them more than they could’ve missed him, but he knows what it feels like, too. 

So, they just keep on hugging when he helps his mom set the table and when they clean the kitchen afterwards and before he goes to sleep. He even hugs his siblings twice more, and not one of them complains or teases. 

Donghyuck holds his family close and doesn’t let tears slip down his cheeks on pure will. 

He almost forgets about Mark in his excitement, but he’s honestly too cute to ignore. Like, angel Mark was something, but human Mark is lovely . 

Without his imposingly beautiful wings around, Donghyuck can focus on the boy. On the black curls of his hair against his forehead, his warm eyes and the mole on his cheek. The way his hoodie hangs loose on his frame despite his broad shoulders and how he keeps stumbling without his wings to balance him out. 

He’s said it before and he’ll say it again: Mark Lee could be any boy around his neighborhood. He could’ve grown up in the house next door, and they could've been friends at school. It’s an entertaining thought. 

Maybe it’s that thought that drives him to take Mark out in the afternoon, for a very human experience. He gets Mark to help him out after they have lunch with Donghyuck’s mom. They take the blanket off his motorcycle, polish and wax it, check the brakes, and get it ready to go. 

Devilish, little human , headmaster Lee’s voice reminds him. He shakes it off. 

He places an old helmet on Mark’s head, ties it tightly under his chin. “For protection.”

The boy tilts his head sideways. “How is this going to protect me?”

It kinda crashes the human!Mark fantasy, to be reminded that he could fall off the bike and be completely fine. Still, it doesn't seem to faze him all that much. Human Mark wouldn’t get this glint in his eyes when Donghyuck shows him Netflix, or the amazed ‘o’ on his lips at the sight of buildings, or the curious fingers at the kitchen gadgets. And that , Donghyuck wouldn’t give away — not even for a human. 

He settles for the bullshit answer: “Your head keeps your thoughts, and I’m giving it an extra layer.”

Mark looks confused. Hyuck ignores him to put his own helmet on. “Books mention that humans value the heart above every other organ.”

That’s so not what books mean , he thinks endeared. A smile comes to his lips as he mounts the bike, and signals for the angel to follow along. “I’ll be the shield for your heart, feathers,” he says mindlessly. Mark probably won’t get it anyway. “Hold on.”

The bike rumbles to life, and Mark’s arms come around his waist, chest against back. He takes off to the road, feeling the wind on his face and Mark’s heart against his own ribs. 

With the open road and clear skies above them, they could go anywhere. Hell, Donghyuck feels like taking off the ground and flying into freedom or some poetic crap of the sort. 

Maybe he’s having a heart attack — or a stroke. He’s a man with options. 

One way or the other, he doesn’t get to find out. At the speed he’s going, they reach one of the city’s high-points in no time. 

Adrenaline is probably doing something to him, considering how his fingers come to cradle Mark’s jaw the moment he gets off the bike. He doesn’t even think about it, one hand holding the angel steady, the other unclamping the helmet’s safety. 

The little gasp that comes out of Mark’s mouth is probably some sort of hallucination, too. 

“Is that what flying feels like, birdie?” He teases, a smirk lifting the corners of his lips. 

It’s enough for the angel to react with a roll of his eyes. “Perhaps a different kind of windy.”

Donghyuck chuckles, shakes his head in disbelief. This angel will be the death of him. 

“Wanna watch the sunset?”

He doesn’t wait for a reply, and Mark doesn’t complain when he’s pulled along once again. They leave the bike on the side of the road, head for one of those weirdly placed benches in the middle of the mountain. 

Donghyuck doesn’t really understand the fascination for sunsets or sunrises, other than the obvious beauty and hugeness of it. But, knowing Mark, his reaction will be priceless. More so, ‘cause there are no sunsets in the skies (he guesses it has something to do with heights). 

Mark’s eyes are glued to the scene, blue blending into purples and pinks and oranges over the horizon. They’re lucky today, with the clear sky and the Lion King-worthy sight. 

Donghyuck’s eyes are glued to the angel’s face, though. Not that the sunset isn’t pretty, but Donghyuck’s seen sunsets before. The way sunlight falls on Mark’s face, painting his skin with this beautiful glow, how he holds his breath as the sun glides down and his eyes run around trying to drink it all up and his fingers tighten around the human’s wrist … That , Donghyuck will only witness once. 

“I like your secrets,” his deep voice breaks the silence. Hyuck smiles. 

“Then why so shy, halo?”

The usual blush comes to Mark’s face. He murmurs something that Donghyuck isn’t able to catch. He sighs loudly and Mark presses his lips into a thin line before repeating: “They didn’t know who I was.”

Donghyuck frowns a little. His pride wants to flare and strike, but Mark isn’t usually one to brag. God , it’s so difficult to read him without his wings to expose him. “So?”

“I don’t mean it as an offense,” Mark quickly reassures. He dips his head, bashful. “It was just rare, not having to live up to… all of it.”

Now that makes much more sense. He shrugs, smiles. “And? What’s the verdict, your elevated highness?”

“Can’t tell with certainty,” Mark chuckles. Then he adds a quiet: “Made me feel real, a bit like you.”

There's a pregnant pause. Donghyuck doesn’t wanna get too into his thoughts about how much he hates anyone and everyone who's ever hurt Mark Lee. He doesn't wanna think about Mark calling him real. 

“How very… whimsical of you,” he teases instead. “Let's go roll on the mud to make it come true.”

Mark squints at him, nose scrunched in disgust. “Is that a human superstition?”

He pretends to think for a second, forefinger against his chin and eyes to the sky. “Don’t think so, but mudcakes give off good vibes.”

“What do vibrations have to do with anything?” Mark tilts his head sideways. Donghyuck laughs out loud and only explains after Mark threatens to mud up his bike if he doesn't.

And Donghyuck thinks about it. When they somehow end up playing on the ground and making actual mudcakes for a bakeoff 'cause Mark refuses to use violence, he thinks about kissing him. About cupping his soft cheeks with his dirty hands and meeting those pink lips of his half-way. 

He doesn’t wanna think about the possibilities, though, so he chooses to focus on the beautiful, giggly, muddy angel in front of him instead. 

***

Over the next few days, they get used to a routine. They sleep in, Donghyuck shows Mark something glaringly human like video games or ice-skating, and they come back for dinner with the family. 

(Mark turns out to be a master at poker, and the cunning little shit robs him of a couple of bucks — even if he later uses them to buy ice cream for Hyuck, his scammer pride is hurt). 

Long story short, Donghyuck has some of the best days of his life. 

And while toeing the line between friendship and something more with Mark feels dangerous, he can’t help but lean into the other side. 

The last night before spring break is over, Donghyuck finds himself once again in bed with Mark beside him, ‘cause Donghee is a closeted witch and probably worked some of her magic for there to only be one bed. (Of course, Donghyuck is a gentleman. So, first night in, he confesses to Mark: he’s a cuddly sleeper — and awaker(?) too — he's allowed to push him off the bed anytime). 

He'd like to say his hands move on their own, lithe fingers sliding across Mark's back gently, reverently. But truth is, he caresses the little bumps on his shoulders, where his wings are supposed to emerge from, on his own account. Mark shivers, and lets him continue.

Yuck, feelings are making him a wuss. Sheesh.

“You'll excuse me, feathers, but spooning you is a pretty big opportunity,” he defends himself, rather weakly if we're being honest.

“Spooning?” 

Donghyuck chuckles, endeared. He doesn't need to see Mark's face to know his nose is scrunched up in confusion. 

“Human expression,” he explains. He lets the tips of his fingers wander and touch and dig pointedly into the angel's shoulders. He makes a much quieter confession this time around: “I kinda miss them, though.”

“Yeah?”

“You have the coolest wings,” he shrugs, even Mark can't see him. He still runs his knuckles over the rice paper-thin shirt Mark wears to sleep, stretching over him. And so, Donghyuck can feel the way his ribs expand and his heart speeds up and his breath hitches under his hands. 

“Don't say that to other angels. They might take it seriously,” he breathes out. 

“Why?”

“Angel things.”

Donghyuck punches his broad back lightly. Then, he rests his head on the nape of his neck. “You’re a terrible tutor.”

Mark sighs, doesn’t turn around. “Wings are… a personal symbol. They carry us, defend us, shield us…” he pauses, as if admitting to it hurts him physically. “Experts could tell all about an angel’s abilities and personality based on their wings.” 

“Tell me,” he nudges softly. 

“You could simply see for yourself,” Mark seems to give up, wrap the blanket closer around him. 

You can’t choose what I see, but can choose what you tell me, Donghyuck thinks. He doesn't know why it matters to him, but it does. He kinda doesn't want to find out things on his own, kinda wishes Mark would wanna tell him. “C’mon, feathers. I’m human, basically blind. I’ll believe anything you say.”

Lying so close to him, Donghyuck can see him fidgeting, even without his wings to tell on him. Hyuck waits.

“Mine are black because of my abilities,” he breaks the silence. “Most angels have one or two to manage and master. I train hard to keep my four abilities under control because I... I’d hate to be powerless to protect people who are important to me. But I don’t want to be so powerful that it consumes who I am. Being here — real and normal and fragile. I... I don’t know.”

For once in his life, Donghyuck The Planner of The Century, thinks through his next words. Believe in miracles, my fellow people, they happen. 

It comes out rougher than he intends it to, although it rings true. “So? You have warrior wings, which are way cooler than porcelain ones.” When Mark says nothing, he adds, ankles entangled with the angel’s: “My dad used to say that we don’t have the answers, but we can learn to live with the questions. Maybe you only need to find the right middle.”

“Maybe.” Mark remains silent for a second and Hyuck braces himself for rejection. Until he whispers in his deep voice, as though it were a secret only meant for the darkness of Donghyuck’s childhood bedroom: “Sometimes, I think I dreamt you up.”

In this one moment, Donghyuck’s cheeks heat up and his arm snakes around Mark’s waist to pull him closer. And although later on the boy will wonder if he wasn’t a dream but someone else’s plan, right now, he can only speak up. 

“‘M here. I swear,” he whispers back — promises, with his lips caressing the nape of Mark’s neck. “What do your wings say about your obsession with watermelon?” 

Under his arm, Mark’s back shakes with his deep chuckles. He takes his hand, pulls gets further into Donghyuck’s embrace and the boy smiles again. “You’d have to study feather placement.”

“Another time then, your highness.”

***

Coming back to the academy feels unreal. There’s this sort of bubble between them — around them —, and they both know it’s there. There’s this nervousness and excitement about touching the bubble — an underlying fear of what will happen to their friendship if it bursts. So they play it with ease, but close to the edge.

But doubt keeps poking his brain. He’s an ex-spy, he doesn't lack confidence. Yet, it seems a tiny bit sus’ how headmaster Lee needed info on Mark and suddenly Donghyuck clicks with him… right?

He has potential to be an ally, wasn’t brought here for a single job. Or maybe he’s just paranoid. 

Probably residual guilt. Yeah. He likes the sound of that, he’s keeping it.

You know, the usual teenage angsty shit. 

In the meanwhile, they follow their friendship schedule like always. Homework, meals, sneak-outs. Yadda, yadda. Donghyuck’s fine. Cool as ice. Duh.

On other news, apparently angels shed. At least Mark does, leaving pretty, black feathers fucking everywhere. But that’s not the weird part, no. The thing is, he picks them up and stashes them in this cute bag. 

“You making a pillow, halo?” He asks him once. 

Obviously, Mark rolls his eyes, sighs, shakes his head. You know, all the gloomy boy shit. Then, he doesn't even give him a proper reply. “Instincts.”

Pfffff. Angels, man. 

“So, you’re like a cat, but prettier,” he says, eyes going up and down the angel’s figure suggestively. 

A nice red hue tints Mark’s cheeks, going up to his ears. Satisfaction wells in Hyuck’s chest. However, Mark says nothing, and keeps his eyes down. So Donghyuck doesn't quite solve the mystery yet. 

Donghyuck notices it's not only Mark who molts — molting is, apparently, the shedding-equal term for birds. Most of his classmates carry their own bags with feathers, and become ultra, duper, super sensitive about their wings. He begins to research, but has almost no progress. Secretive little shits, the lot of them. 

And still, Mark never is too moody to sneak out with him, to joke and make him laugh, to put his wing around his shoulders as they look at the stars. 

(Donghyuck's been telling you, something is brewing between them. The whoosh-y, gooey kinda thing. Like Mark interlacing their fingers when he guides them through the halls at night, or how he glances at him when he thinks Donghyuck won't notice, or the way he taps his feet nervously before pushing his thigh against Hyuck's when they sit side by side. 

And maybe it means nothing, but maybe it actually does).

The human boy is forced to use his brain for topics other than his Boyfriend!Mark-related fantasies, when the angel gives him homework. And not like one paper. No, the motherfucker gives him a whole-ass book. For the weekend . 

At the moment, Donghyuck's disgusting crush on Mark is set on pause 'cause he currently is the object of his flaming, ever-growing hate. His angel ass can land in hell for all he cares right now. Grrrrr . 

Donghyuck is (was) a spy, not a scholar. He isn't made for long reading lists in a short period of time. Naturally, he procrastinates while he's at it. 

Mark’s been looking jittery, though. His eyes keep looking for something on Donghyuck’s chest every time they meet, he bites at his lower lip when he chuckles and those gorgeous wings of his betray him. 

Donghyuck’s spy-like intuition says it has to do with him. But he can’t tell how , exactly. 

And , every time he opens The cursed, horrible, detestable, awful, hideous, ugly, smelly, yuck-y book he hates so much, Mark breaks down. Like, high school drama level breakdown. 

So, Donghyuck painstakingly decides he has to read it. 

The first two hundred pages or so, are as terrible as they sound. Then, a beautiful black feather on a chain falls off the pages. 

(His heart might beat out of his chest. For no reasonable reason at all. Could be a nothing-feather for all he knows, right? Right?)

And you know Donghyuck, he’s a curious soul. He doesn't need sleep, he needs answers. In one night, he finishes the book he couldn't start in three weeks. Bet you know what it’s like.

CHAPTER IV: ANCIENT MATING RITUALS IN THE HEAVENS

COURTING

Courting traditions and rituals are diverse and varied among cultures, generations and angel hierarchies. Ergo, no absolute collection exists as of yet. Nonetheless, a small number of said traditions have remained constant through the ages. A few of the many courting traditions in usage in the last three centuries will be detailed further into this chapter.

• Hunting gifts: (details Donghyuck didn't bother to read)

• Great sacrifices: (details Donghyuck didn't bother to read pt. 2)

• Public courting: (details Donghyuck didn't bother to read pt.3)

• Joint tumb building: (details Donghyuck didn't bother to read pt. 4)

• Grace sighting: : (details Donghyuck didn't bother to read pt. 5)

• Wing-related rituals:

• Feather gift or exchange: feather gifting or exchanging is a sign of interest and a question of reciprocity. An angel gives away a part of themselves and hopes it to be cherished by the receiver, as well as be trusted to receive a feather back.

• Wing trimming: (details Donghyuck didn't bother to read pt. 6)

• Vow of Elohim: (details Donghyuck didn't bother to read pt. 7)

• Letters of Enoch: (details Donghyuck didn't bother to read pt. 8)

• Cloak of Cassiel: (details Donghyuck didn't bother to read pt. 9)

In case that didn’t get across ‘cause of awful angel writing: FEATHER GIFTING AS A SIGN OF INTEREST AND QUESTION OF RECIPROCITY. Panic.

Donghyuck squeals, proceeds to bury his face in a pillow to avoid the sound of it. He jumps on the bed, gets embarrassed about it, does it again anyway.

*Insert high volume, high frequency squeals here*.

***
The human boy doesn't bother to sleep. And by that, he means he isn't able to sleep with his heart feeling like it might explode any second now. God, feelings have made him such a dramatic wuss. Agh. 

Welp, that's life. Suck it. He's in love. 

He sends Mark a little note. Meet me at the clocktower, he writes. 

For once in his life, Donghyuck is early. He paces around the roof, kinda nervous, kinda excited. He looks up at the sky and laughs out loud. 

He only turns around when he hears Mark’s voice call to him. 

“Hello, Hyuck…” the angel’s voice quiets down as his eyes trace the boy’s chest — the black feather resting against it. 

Donghyuck takes in every one of his actions; how his chest heaves up and down with hurried breaths, how his eyes light up with careful hope, how his lips struggle not to become upturned, how his wings flutter proudly only to fold in shyly the next moment. 

And for the first time in a long while, Hyuck hesitates. He takes slow steps towards Mark, lets his teeth worry over his lower lip. He comes to stand so, so close to his angel. “Is this alright?”

Mark seems way more awed than fazed, his eyes unable to leave the feather hanging from Donghyuck’s neck. Then, he looks up and Donghyuck swears his heart skips a beat or two. 

“I’m in love with you.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” he chuckles. 

“I know you know my name is not Sharluck,” Mark titles his head sideways, cute as ever. 

“Doesn’t matter.”

Donghyuck is just a boy. He sees pretty, pink lips so close to him, and he gets distracted. His hands can’t help but latch to the lapels of Mark’s robes;  his eyes beg for permission — and at the tiniest nod of Mark’s head, he leans in to kiss him. 

(Fucking finally).

Donghyuck knows that a kiss is more magical when imagined than when given. There are no fireworks or sudden feelings of completion. There are only shy lips, hesitant hands, and the angel he’s in love with. 

It’s Mark’s nose he bumps against and Mark whom he giggles with and Mark who kisses him again between laughs. 

It’s all he wants. 

Donghyuck has never had problems speaking his mind, but right now, the words seem to be stuck in his throat. He leans back, looks Mark in the eye and asks: “Are we clear?”

His angel nods, smiles, sparkly eyes and all that crap. “You can’t be real.”

And Mark, sweet, innocent, in-need-of-a-protection-squad Mark, can’t know what those words mean to Donghyuck. Can’t know what they crack open in him, what they let creep in. 

“‘Course I am,” he kisses him again and again. Until he can convince both of them. 

***

Ever since coming to the Academy, Donghyuck’s realized what angels really think of humans. It’s somewhat of a specism(?) matter, their belief that all humans do is destroy and deceit. 

Really, one human in history fucked up and it was over for the rest of humanity.

(Then again, it’s not like Earth is having a blast with it, is it? People are simply not the best thing that could’ve happened to the planet, other species and even to other humans. Let’s be real, most people suck, even if some don’t).

Donghyuck is a rational guy. He knows for a fact that he’s quick-witted, adaptable and determined. Honestly, a catch — more so, if considered business-inclined. 

Those traits also make him the perfect person to befriend someone who seemed un-befriend-able, don’t they?

Yet… maybe an angel wouldn’t be willing to lie so much for the sake of a future. But he was. That's what really made him perfect for the job. He had everything to lose and gain. 

Devilish, little human . 

Fuck headmaster Lee. 

And fuck his perfectionist mind for obsessing over it. 

Really, it’s all he can think about. Well, that and Mark. He has an annoying (and impressive) bunch of Mark quirks stored in his head for no good reason other than how endearing they are. Ugh. 

Speaking of the angel—

“Ready?” Mark asks him when he picks him up from his room. 

“Where are you taking me, halo?” 

“I thought you liked surprises?” He reminds the boy with a smirk. Donghyuck grumbles, grabs his hand anyway. 

Over the last few days, Mark has developed this weird polarity; one moment he’s all shy and blush-y, the next he exudes confidence and smugness. It’s giving Donghyuck whiplash. 

(He kinda loves it, though. It’s very… Mark Lee). 

For a second, Donghyuck believes he’s taking him to his man-cave. Until they leave the halls and end up on the fields, not the old-ass room from their past visits. 

He’s very confused. Change of tactics, then. 

“Such a perv. Expecting to make out under the stars, Mr. holier than thou?” He teases. Mark’s cheeks don’t get their usual pink hue though. Uh-oh. 

He fucking smirks . 

All alarms go off in Donghyuck’s head. Something’s very, very wrong here. 

“Hold on.”

“What? Why— AHHHHHH!!!”

Mark gathers him in his arms too quickly for his human senses to perceive. He registers the fact that the angel has a secure arm around his waist, his other arm slid under his knees, only after they are flapping away from the ground. 

Mark shoots up into the night sky, and he takes Hyuck with him. 

Donghyuck can only try not to gape too much, the chill air running down his throat. He tightens his grip on Mark’s clothes, burrows deeper into his heat before he cranes his neck in every possible direction to take it all in. 

He’s flying. This is what flying feels like. 

***

They get to Mark’s place much, much faster than they ever did on foot through the tunnel. 

Mark sets him on the ground, assesses him head to toe for any harm, and gives him a smile that could light up Earth and Heaven. 

It’s gone the second he notices Hyuck’s glassy eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, brow furrowed in concern, his hands coming up to cups the human’s face.

Donghyuck laughs wetly. For every crazy dream he never gave up, every hope he worked hard to transform into reality, every instance he thought he couldn’t actually make it. 

And now, he’s flying. Metaphorically and literally.

He shakes his head. Mark wipes a lone tear off his cheek. “Maybe I’m allergic to feathers,” he shrugs. “I’ll live on Claritin and Allegra for the rest of my days.”

“The rest of your days?” Mark asks in a whisper, with big eyes and a tiny smile. His wings give his excitement away when one of them extends over to him in invitation. Now , Mark’s cheeks decide to let a blush show. “Oh my g— sorry, sorry,” he rushes to say.

Donghyuck bursts into laughter. 

“Can I?” 

Mark jerks his head down in a quick nod. (Doesn't stop Donghyuck from noticing how he bites his lips and fidgets). 

The human boy lets the back of his hand caress those gorgeous black feathers, going ever so carefully from the bent of the wing and down the primaries. They feel smooth and silky against his skin, and kinda look magical with that iridescent glow. 

“Woah… they’re even cooler up close…” he lets out in awe. 

Mark shudders, and Hyuck takes his hand back quickly. But the angel pushes his wing back into his hand and comes close enough to slide his own fingers over the front of Donghyuck’s shirt, fist it. 

“Do you… do you really like them?” Mark asks in a whisper, still not lifting his eyes. 

He decides, then and there, that whoever made Mark believe his wings are anything less than beautifully stunning, is his #1 enemy. 

Donghyuck lets his fingers run from the carpals to the secondary coverts on the inner side of the wing. Mark gasps so loudly, people on Earth probably heard him, too. 

It’s Donghyuck’s turn to smirk, hold his chin between his forefinger and thumb and tilt his head up the slightest bit — only enough to look at pretty, wide eyes and pink lips. 

“I adore them,” he declares with raw sincerity, barely an inch away from his angel’s mouth. “Black wings are the coolest, especially ‘cause they belong to the best angel I’ve met.”

Donghyuck barely finishes his sentence when Mark crashes their lips together and pulls him into the comforting cocoon of his wings. 

Now, close your eyes and imagine what happens afterwards. You know exactly what it is.

***

Ever get the feeling that you’re actually living in your favorite fairytale, the one you loved since you were a kid? No? Well, boo-hoo for you. Donghyuck is. 

He was lucky to fall in love with such a dear friend, such a sweet boy. 

They come to know the Academy’s grounds inside-out between their sneak-outs and lil’ dates. They ruin every dish they try to cook, makeout at every corner they end up at, and laugh in every awkward situation. They tell each other stories that can only be whispered about in the comfort of the darkness under the blankets or hidden away by Mark’s wings as he presses Donghyuck against a wall. 

It’s scarily perfect. Almost magical. 

Donghyuck doesn’t think he’s ever been happier — but everything comes at a price. 

Yeah, things are going well. When he remembers to forget all about headmaster Lee and the very beginning.

Doesn’t help that Johnny apparently wants to meet Donghyuck ‘cause he still thinks he’s a scam. Which is just great . 

Like, how do you tell someone that you approached them under orders to spy on them to pay for your tuition but fell in love and resigned? And when, exactly, are you supposed to tell them? Before it becomes a permanent secret or after you’re sure you won’t get dumped? Never?

It’s snowballing into a problem Donghyuck doesn’t wanna deal with. So, he tries to occupy his head with other things. 

He finds himself in Mark’s room often, wandering. No spy business, he swears. He just likes it better there, with pieces of Mark carefully sprinkled all over the place. With his nerdy books on the desk, his family pictures safely tucked into his scribbled-all-over notebooks, his robes on the chair, his feathers on the bed. 

Mark always teases him about how much he likes his room, and Donghyuck insists it’s about privacy and space. It’s all about Mark, though. 

As (in Donghyuck’s opinion) recent friends, there were certain boundaries; things you can only achieve with much time and little space. When there’s a relationship, some things move way quicker. And Donghyuck loves peeling the many layers of Mark, seeing him. 

“You’re staring,” Mark groans, placing his open book on his face, probably to hide the blush. 

“What am I supposed to do? You’re pretty and not paying attention to me,” he teases back. Mark only shakes his head, but Hyuck’s eyes see the pink spreading to his neck. Yet, the angel won’t look at him. 

He takes out the big guns: his fingers tickle the bent of Mark’s left wing, wrapped around his shoulder. Mark squeals, kicks and tackles Donghyuck so that he’s trapped under his body. First, he tries to get revenge, which only ends in a pillow fight. Then, Donghyuck decides to cheat by kissing him into surrender.

He really is so incredibly happy . He wishes he could stay in these moments forever, where it’s him and his angel and nothing else seems to matter. 

It haunts him a little. 

While growing up, everyone had this one thing they were afraid of; like sharks or needles or darkness. He’d wondered if he was simply fearless. Mark had asked the same thing once, too. 

Truth is, if he thinks about it for long, Donghyuck is afraid of almost everything. Probably not in the way you’re thinking. He’s just… scared of losing — something, everything. 

When he was a child, one thing was clear: take nothing for granted, there’s always more to be gained and lost. A lost competition, a lost future, a lost relationship. 

It terrifies him. 

He’s always been aware of what he wants, how to get it… Always been greedy that way. But he knows the risk of want becoming love. He’s only dared taking it a few times. And Mark was one of them. 

He doesn’t wanna lose him. Not for telling the truth, not for hiding it. And he can’t stop thinking about it. 

***

Yet, it seems like the universe has its own opinion. And things happen, whether he wants them to or not. 

It’s actually really, really stupid. But it all happens so fast, that Donghyuck cannot do anything to stop it. 

One second, Donghyuck is inviting Mark into his room while he changes and Mark is just wandering over his things to mock the human’s habit. The next thing Donghyuck sees is Mark holding a single paper with his handwriting on it. 

Little Black Duckling Report#1

Fucking shit. 

Sparks fly where Mark’s fingers are gripping the cursed piece of paper, and a flame is lit in his hand. He doesn’t even look at Donghyuck before he strides to the door. 

“Mark! Wait! It’s not what it looks like!” he rushes behind him, breath ragged and eyes watery, trying to stop a trainwreck with his bare hands.

The angel extends a single placating hand in his direction, his back still turned to him. “Do not touch me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s an old thing I’ve left behind. Wasn’t important anyway. Not as important as you,” he tries to explain, but it comes out like a plea.  

Mark’s shoulders drop. He turns around, looking at Donghyuck like he’s a stranger — with steely eyes and so much distrust, it pierces his heart. “I don’t believe you.”

“Sneak into the headmaster's office and you can see my resignation weeks ago.”

Mark scoofs. “Weeks? Is this why you approached me at the beginning of the year?” Betrayal crosses his expression and Donhyuck hates himself for it. “No wonder you’re so good at sneaking out,” the angel bites back.

His temper flares. “Feathers, don’t be stubborn—”

“I trusted you! I confided in you!” the angel explodes, voice tearing. His eyes find the ceiling, so that the tears don’t fall. “Lord, my brother warned me that you were too good to be true. I was so foolish.”

And he walks away, without looking back.

Donghyuck calls after him, tries to chase him down the corridor. He can’t keep up, can’t even pretend he’s ever gonna catch him. He’s never resented his human speed so much.

The boy ends up in his room again, cursing himself hoarse. He tries to hold the tears, yells at his reflection on the mirror when he feels them streaming down his cheeks. He has no right to feel this hurt over a grave he dug himself, over a knife he held — and struck Mark with. He has no fucking right. 

Doesn’t stop him from bawling his eyes out, falling asleep from utter exhaustion. 

He’s lost Mark. And it’s all his fault. 

***

He’d say the days pass by in monotony. That everything seems like an incredible plan to fuck him up. That he doesn’t get out of bed in the morning, yadda yadda. 

Truth is, life goes on even when you’re not the most enthusiastic about it. People come and go, even when you don’t want them to. Things keep moving and shit keeps happening, even when you don’t feel any of it. 

Donghyuck has always been a practical person. Overthinking stuff and feelings is not his thing. 

So, he fills every empty space of his time. He signs up to everything and anything that will accept him, cleans his room (thrice!), messes his room up (more than thrice), does all his remaining homework for the rest of the semester, and works himself to the ground. 

His avoiding strategy mostly works, if the task requires brain-power or he’s hanging at the edge of exhaustion. 

If it’s not, though… Well, it proves to be counterproductive. 

Everything around here reminds him of Mark. His room, the kitchens, the library, the halls and the field. His iPod, his robes, his feather. Even his favorite superhero. 

Donghyuck’s tried to tell himself it’s annoying — ‘cause it’s supposed to be annoying. But more than anything, it’s sad. And that’s frustrating. 

He’d ugh about it, but he’s busy crying or holding back tears most of the time, excuse him. 

Not like he can do anything to fix it, anyway. 

Like, he tried to apologize for a week straight after the Great Tragedy , and Mark wouldn’t even look at him, let alone listen to anything he had to say. 

Donghyuck is a Gemini; which means he’s that one friend who tells you to let people go and move on with your life. He tries to follow his own advice and stops begging for forgiveness. (Doesn’t really work, though, seeing that he can’t really move on).

So, he’s recurring to good ol’ Fake it till you make it , and calling it a day. 

***

Destiny is not calling it a day. In fact, it seems to detest Donghyuck. Or maybe it’s karma. Or Jesus. Or whoever the fuck runs this shit-show. 

Point is, the designated deity of the month hates him. 

He’s wandering the halls, looking for corners and creeks that don’t bring memories up. The bitter aftertaste of something that was sweet. His blame on it all. 

He’s alone and unprotected, with little idea of where he really is except for the way he came in — very fucking dumb of him. 

He feels the first tremor before the alarm sounds.

Adrenaline shoots up his veins. He runs on pure instinct. His mind spins with the same question: what’s the closest safe-room? What’s the closest safe-room? What’s the closest safe-room?

He doesn’t let up until he sees a landmark he recognizes, a starting point to head somewhere else. The ground shakes under his feet. Dust falls off the high ceilings. 

Donghyuck’s never seen a wind rift like this one. And he’s never been more unprepared for one. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

He turns on the corner, quick as his human speed allows him to be. One more hall to cross, one more stairwell to fly up. He can do it. 

For all his brave act, Donghyuck falls flat on his ass the moment the ground rumbles. 

It happens in slow-motion; Donghyuck’s on the floor, there’s a loud crack and a chunk of ceiling is coming off, steel rod protuberating and debris falling. 

And well, Donghyuck is nothing more than a tiny human. He doesn’t get the chance to stand up. He simply raises his arm to protect himself and waits for the hit. 

—which doesn’t come. 

“Hyuck! Get up!” Mark roars, teeth clenched, a bloodied wing extended over Donghyuck’s body. Protecting him. 

You came back for me .

Donghyuck jumps up and pulls Mark along with him. Although Mark’s steps are heavy, his wing dragging behind him, they make it to a small safe-room near the kitchens. 

The human boy pushes Mark in, smacks the lock with all his strength. The door is shut. The emergency lights on the corners are the only things allowing him to see. 

Mark is on his knees, breathing hard. Doesn’t take long to figure out why. 

One of his beautiful, black wings… the blood on it is his. The carpal edge hangs at an odd angle, twisted downwards. Where primary coverts are supposed to be, a patch of red skin is revealed. Scattered remains of stone and dirt clump between his feathers, digging in the wound. 

He protected Donghyuck. Silly, human Donghyuck. And got hurt. 

Had he not been in shock, he probably would’ve broken down in tears. One more way he’s hurt Mark. But the sight forces him to remain logical. 

Safe-rooms are more like huge metal boxes, and they can’t be opened from the outside. They're both students, so none of them has a key. Which means they’re stuck here for 48 hours, when the automated lock clicks open — or until someone checks this particular safe-room. 

That wing needs treatment now . If Mark starts healing with the debris in his wing… it might end up worse. 

There should be a first aid kit and some food rations here, somewhere. 

“We need to clean your wing—“ he starts. 

Mark hisses, drawing his wing away from Donghyuck’s hands. And Donghyuck can’t figure out if he’s staring daggers into him or pleading for him to stay away. “ Don’t .”

If only Mark’s super senses allowed him to see Hyuck’s heart, bleeding regret, clotted with guilt, only pumping for love. If only Donghyuck didn’t huff back in anger and desperation and fear. 

“Listen to me carefully, ‘cause I’m not gonna beg for your attention or say it again,” he states. “I’m really sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I did get close to you because I wanted something, but I left it all behind and stayed by your side ‘cause you’re a great person and a great friend. You matter to me,” his voice breaks. He wipes the tears off his cheeks. “I know I don’t deserve your trust but, let me help you just this once — please . I don’t wanna hurt you any more than I already have.”

Mark’s gaze remains unreadable. But he nods, and Donghyuck could faint with relief. 

He makes quick work of washing his hands, grateful for perfectionist angels who make sure all of their safe-rooms are functional. He finds a small blanket in a plastic bag, decides it’s as good as any washcloth if he wants to use the medical supplies to cover the wing later. 

Standing behind the angel, he plucks the bits and pieces of stone off. Then, he swipes across the dirty feathers surrounding the wound, careful and kind as he’s never been for anyone else. 

Mark groans and grunts, taking deep breaths and long exhales, but never complains. 

Donghyuck finds some sort of salve meant as a painkiller, a couple of bandages. With the pads of his fingers rubbing the salve on his wound, he says I’m sorry . With his hands working quickly to set the wings in the right position, he repeats I’m sorry . With his fingers placing the clean bandages over the broken feathers remaining, he chants again and again I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry .

“I’m done,” he sighs, hoping the silence will end. Mark moves his wing a little, tension dissipating off his shoulders and nods. Donghyuck can’t keep his mouth shut. “Thank you. For finding me.”

He hears Mark suck in a big breath, sees him nod again. 

It’s wicked of him. How his heart swells at the thought of Mark still caring about him, after everything. How he can lie down on a cold corner and sleep almost soundly for that. Devilish, little human . 

So what, if angels and devils aren’t meant to be? Donghyuck can make peace with the bits and pieces he managed to steal. 

Even if it wasn’t destiny or his own merit that brought them together. Even if it’s time to step away. 

***

Destiny must really hate him. it never does agree to his plans. 

He wakes up enveloped in warmth and darkness. He’s not scared for a single second, though. It’s a darkness he loves. His fingers itch to touch the silky feathers, so close to him. but he pulls his hand back into his chest. 

He feels Mark’s arm tighten around his waist. This time, it’s Donghyuck who stays quiet.

“When I met you, I remember thinking that you were not scared of anything if it made you happy,” Mark murmurs from behind, voice grovely from disuse. “And I was so glad . You come to appreciate true people when you live among so many reputations… And I thought I’d finally be a real person to someone else. Tell me, did you ever love me ?”

Donghyuck gulps down the knot in his throat. “I was true, it all was. And I do want to be happy,” he replies just as quietly, digging his own space in Mark’s solid chest ‘cause right now he can. “But you’re wrong. I am scared... of a lot of things, actually. It’s no excuse, but it didn’t make it any less real for me: I didn’t want to lose you.”

“ Why ?” 

“You know...  you have to know.”

“I want to hear it from you,” Mark pushes again, lips grazing the shell of Donghyuck’s ear, body so close to his. 

Maybe it’s fear, maybe it’s pride, maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s the fact that he knows he’s not a human worthy of an angel. Of this beautiful, kind, great angel. But the words get stuck on Donghyuck’s tongue. 

He shakes his head, makes a move to disentangle himself from Mark — and finds himself unable to. Mark tightens his hold, closes his wings tighter, puts his forehead against Hyuck’s nape like all those nights they spent together. 

“That's cheating, halo,” he complains, voice wet with unshed tears. (God, what’s happening to him? He hasn’t cried this much, this frequently since he was five, love sucks).

“You would know…” Mark teases him, almost like everything is back to how it was. “ Donghyuck ... say it.”

Hyuck grabs the hand around his waist, brings it to his lips and kisses the tip of every one of Mark’s fingers slowly, until his throat can dislodge from his guilt. “I’m in love with you. I love you, feathers.” 

He doesn’t need to see Mark’s face when his wings answer the way they do, fluffed up and tickling his nose. 

“Thank you, for telling me,” Mark hugs him tighter before his arms go looser, giving him space to leave — if he wants to. 

Thing is, he doesn’t wanna. And while he knows he’s just a tiny human next to Mark, and there are so many things to fix… well, he’s always been greedy. 

He presses his eyes closed, grabs Mark’s wrist and wraps his arms around himself again. He doesn’t let go. “Can we start over?”

He feels Mark take in a shaky breath against his skin — and leave the gentlest kiss on his nape. 

“I’m Mark. Just Mark.”

Donghyuck could glow with happiness. “I’m Hyuck. And I’ve got so many things to tell you.”

He turns around in his arms to finally face him. And is met with a smile mirroring his own. 

***

Love and trust aren’t the same thing. Even if it hurts to admit it. 

It takes time and understanding. After all, trust requires strong foundations, built slowly from the ground up. And forgiveness is earned in actions. 

Explanations don’t make up for betrayal. Feelings aren’t as mendable as clothes. The past just doesn’t get erased. 

It’s meant to hurt. As it’s meant to heal. Always has been. 

So they start over. With apologies out of the way and boundaries clear, they get to re-know each other. Bit by bit. 

It doesn’t go back to the way it was. It’s much, much better. Stronger, truer. The kinda thing where fights make you laugh and pretty words are said through light touches and lingering gazes. 

“Astrology is so much cooler than astronomy, feathers,” Donghyuck teases, lying on the fields with his angel by his side, lithe fingers racking through soft feathers. 

Mark shakes his head. “That is like saying that bacon is better than a cheeseburger with bacon.”

“Nonsense. Fight me.”

The fucking butterflies never die out. They flutter in his belly whenever Mark uses human expressions or holds his hand or looks at him. It’s annoying — and it makes him smile every time. 

It’s absolutely worth it. 

(If Mark invites him to his brother’s wedding, he’s chewing headmaster Lee up, though. Doesn’t matter if it’s his special day or any of that crap). 

(He’s also giving him a hug for allowing him to meet the love of his life, even if it was on messy terms. Some things for others, amirite?)

Healed wounds still leave scars. Sometimes, everything’s alright. Sometimes, phantom pain crawls on your skin. 

“I love you, Hyuck,” Mark repeats for him — whenever Donghyuck needs it, whenever they find themselves in bed, whenever his wings need a lil’ preening. 

“You’re so cheesy, feathers,” Donghyuck replies every time, way too fond to be mistaken for anything else. 

“What is that word you use? Bullshit ?” He teases. “Say it.”

“I adore your wings,” the human points with playful fingers stroking long, gorgeous feathers. Mark’s cheeks always heat up at that. What it means. 

He shakes his head, smiling so widely that his pretty, brown eyes crinkle at the corners. “I need to know.”

“I love you,” he gives in. He always gives in. 

“Promise me.”

“I’m here for you. For real,” Donghyuck keeps reminding him. And reminding himself. 

It is not professional at all. Donghyuck doesn’t want it to be. He just wants his angel close and loved and happy. 

Newfound dreams, as Rapunzel would say. And Hyuck couldn’t agree more.