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Falling is sometimes described as a slow process, a gradual descent into something else. The most common is to fall in love - it starts out of nowhere, a pang, a heart thump, a realization. And then realizing that the little things - a touch of fingers, a simple hug, a small gesture, it all turns from friendly to something more. And if it’s mutual, then comes the idea that perhaps a future of being together could be entertained. Sometimes it’s unrequited, and people move on; they learn to accept things for what they are.
Sometimes, people fall out of love. That’s okay, too, it happens and learning to move on is part of the process.
For Koushi, falling is horrifying, terrifying, and everything he didn’t expect.
“Don’t you think we should be able to love too?”
“You knew the risks in being allowed to live among the mortals. You agreed that there would be no feelings attached and you will return to being with us should we need you here.”
“And I’m tired of trying to stay obligated to being an angel when all I want to do is love!”
“Then you do not deserve a place here to be an immortal.”
His people betrayed him, cast a banishing spell, and locked him out of heaven. Koushi has heard people talk about the idea of it - to be locked out of heaven must feel painful, to be denied something that makes one so happy because you’ve been so afraid to put yourself out there. But really, what has he to fear? Death? It has never scared him, because he’s immortal - or used to be, until he was locked out. Life? Everyone goes through it.
Love? The desire to be attached to someone and wanting to give all of yourself to the point of throwing away whatever has mattered most in the past just to be in the future?
Or the will to sacrifice his immortality?
Free falling is cold, bone chilling, heart shattering. His hair - ashen grey and beautifully soft, flies the wrong way - he should be able to fly, but his wings no longer work and his body doesn’t react the way it does when he falls to the earth. In the moments that the wind blows strongly and the chill settles in more than he would have liked it to, Koushi’s eyes shut as he tries not to think about what his life will become when he reaches the bottom.
Behind his eyelids he sees a dark silhouette of something, or someone - a dark haired man, about his height, soft mahogany eyes and a tender smile. The warm way he calls out - Suga? Do you want morning coffee?
Always, if it’s made by you, Koushi whimpers, choking on tears and the heavy lump that makes thinking about him so much harder. Just before he had been taken away by the high council of angels, the person he’d cared for most, a human, had to watch him writhe in pain at the control of the high council.
Why are you doing this?
Stop, you’re hurting him.
Do something! Why aren’t you helping him?!
Koushi doesn’t answer that because he knows why all too well. He thinks about the days at the coffee shop they meet at during Koushi's evening shifts, and thinks about the little garden near their house where Koushi’s hard work blooms and bears small fruit. Will that easiness change when he sees him again?
First love. It still feels strange to think about it - behind the gentle curves of his cheekbones and the well built body, the warmth in mahogany that Koushi loses himself in sometimes, there are times when Koushi has spent the nights awake, wondering what it would be like if he gave up his immortality to be in love with a human. Would it be worth that sacrifice?
It’s not a far fall. He’s aware that his back will hit the hard ground soon, the hard surface colliding with delicate skin. But his skin is already torn from the removal of his wings, forcefully taken out of his back as a punishment.
Is it a punishment to be in love? To crave affection? Is that why it hurts more to think about his first love?
Suga, do you wanna hang out again sometime?
Koushi’s back hits the cold road first, and Koushi’s first thought upon hitting the road is yes, please, I would love to.
εїз
He meets him on the first day of winter, the coldest time of the year, at the little coffee place Koushi works at to blend in. He comes in sometime after five, takes a seat by the corner, and orders his usual coffee. It happens again and again, for the next few days, turned weeks, turned months. Caramel softly drizzled like starlight on a foam cloud, carefully lidded and passed over.
When Koushi cleans up the table, he notices a drawing of him, and a number scribbled at the bottom. It’s gentle pencil strokes that Koushi found himself being amazed at, blending from a harsh curve to a gentle single strand of hair. It’s only short of colour, but Koushi has always appreciated black and white.
Call me, he notes the little scribble at the end, followed by his number and his name.
Sawamura Daichi, Koushi repeats, the name falling off his tongue so easily, warm and indulgent. He keeps the paper in his apron pocket, and wonders about what’s next.
εїз
He wakes to a splitting headache, the aching, biting cold, and fear running through him all at once. It’s a miracle that it doesn’t send him hurling whatever he had in his system onto the floor space beside the bed.
It’s then that he notices this isn’t his own bed.
He sits up slowly, looking over at the night stand - 13:43. It’s late afternoon, but he isn’t due at work until much later. Could he even go to work like this? Maybe it’d be best to call in sick, and nobody will be any the wiser.
He reaches to the night stand to grab his phone when he notices the tiny crow figurine there - this is definitely not his own bed. If anything…
...it’s Daichi’s. The horror sets in that somehow Daichi had managed to find him and see him at his worst, the worst possible state where he looks most fragile. The cold brushes over his skin like an unwanted hug, and he trembles, a lump forming in his throat. He turns his phone on, the light illuminating the dark room. There’s a couple of messages from his colleagues at the coffee shop, but there’s also one from Daichi that reads I’ll be home with dinner. Don’t go anywhere. We should talk about whatever had happened and settle it once and for all.
Right, once and for all.
With everything Daichi had to witness for himself, Koushi wouldn’t be surprised if he never wants him in his life ever again. And he can’t begin to fault Daichi for that. It’s not everyday you witness an angel have his wings torn off harshly the way Koushi had his. It’s a miracle how his wounds haven’t gotten more infected than they probably were.
He gets to his feet slowly and walks to the full length mirror, observing the decor slowly as he lifts his shirt while in view of the mirror. There they are, in all its ugly glory, red and angry, a harsh reminder of the rule he failed to respect to never fall in love with a mortal.
Koushi is numb. He shouldn’t feel this way, he thinks, because really, it’s his fault. He thinks the feelings would have hit him harder than they would have if he were still immortal, but nothing comes out, numb and wrecked. Empty, lost, but somehow, a flicker of new hope.
He spends the rest of the day in bed, bundled up in the dark with all the blankets above his shoulder, until he hears the bedroom door unlock. Sitting up, he does his best to avoid Daichi’s gaze from the door.
Daichi’s words are careful, but robotic, almost calculated. “I got you your favourite mapo tofu from the shop across the street.”
It’s almost tempting but Koushi wishes he could hug Daichi right now, forget the world for a bit. But they’re still tiptoeing around what they really are, affections galore, but they’ve never discussed anything beyond it. Koushi wonders if it’s because he was afraid to say it, but now he really knows it was because he was afraid to see Daichi’s reaction when he finds out.
“You were running a fever last night when I found you on the street, passed out cold. I couldn’t just walk by and not help...so I carried you back home and made sure you’re okay.” Daichi explains, slowly making his way over to the edge of the bed. “What happened?”
εїз
Koushi’s back collided with the floor more than six minutes ago. Somehow, nothing’s broken.
But with that said, the loneliness, combined with the wet and cold, settles in, and suddenly, Koushi is just a regular being, defeathered and useless. He rolls over slowly, careful not to injure his back, and tries his best to stumble home in a daze. His shirt is ripped, holes in places where his wings were. He walks like he’s drunk, unable to control the ache, but the worry isn’t on the surging pain - it’s on Daichi.
He allowed Daichi to witness him being taken away.
What kind of monster is he? Not an angel, not a simple man. He’s undeserving.
Back in his flat, even if the cold isn’t any better, he does his best to stay warm and clean his own wounds up with the best he can do. The daze continues when he reads his message from Daichi, a day ago - Please let me know if you’re okay, but I can’t do this right now.
What a failure. Tears sting his eyes as he slowly curls up in bed, the thin blanket barely doing much to help, his wounds still slightly burning, and his body reacting to becoming human - hunger, worry, ache and pure exhaustion. Above all, he cries out into the dark of his room, the loneliness a result of his worst faults.
The next day is a blur. He knows he has to get medicine for himself because he’s running a fever and he can’t exactly stay on his feet for long, but Daichi isn’t there to babysit him and his pathetic ways. What does a human consume for things that he never had to be worried about as an immortal angel? He barely makes it three steps out of the pharmacy before he falls over, ready to pass out from the sheer pain, when he hears the ever familiar low rumble.
“Suga?”
Under the store light that perfectly hangs over his head, a halo forms and illuminates the best parts of Daichi, highlighting those perfectly warm mahogany eyes.
“An angel…” Koushi laughs before fully passing out, in a moment of uncertainty, the world a blur after, the darkness taking over.
εїз
“Suga, if you don’t talk to me then...nothing gets solved. You don’t have to tell me everything, but...don’t I deserve to know?” Daichi’s voice brings him back, an anchor but also an arrow right for the core of his being. Do angels even have cores? If one were to cut open an angel, would they expect their cores to be perfect?
Koushi sighs, eyes on his fingers as he avoids even more eye contact. “You do. You deserve better than this.”
Daichi laughs sadly. “If anything, I’m not worthy of the sacrifice you gave. Just...why me?”
The first tears fall - a mix of clear and glimmering, his tears stain his cheeks, glittering in the low light. “Daichi, I need you to understand...I’ve been alive since we ever existed. I’ve seen so much war, pain, death. Never once was I ever tempted to give my immortality up until I met you.”
There it is, laid bare on the bare cold tiles, pale skin exposed to the bearer of his heart, the ache in his gut untangling from the knot. Koushi has to admit that releasing some of his feelings is a remedy to the nervous ache he’s been experiencing all day, but that doesn’t mean the worst is over.
It takes a few seconds for Daichi to respond. “You gave it up just like that? Am I really worth all that? All the pain, the defeathering, the wounds?”
Koushi’s tears only fall faster, gathering at the corner of his eyes. “There’s nothing I want more than you and I was ready to give it all up for you.”
Both of them sit in silence. In the time nothing is said, time and reality have collided to tell a single truth: even if Koushi had tried to run away from his feelings, his heart would have always been one step ahead. And that was his curse, his downfall, his banishing - his weakness to love so greatly, to be carefree.
“Daichi...I understand that after seeing me like this, if you don’t want anything to do with me, it’s fine. I can’t blame you for it, because after all, I did s-”
“Koushi.” Daichi interrupts, a hand on Koushi’s arm. He finally lifts his head to look at Daichi, noticing the red rimmed eyes around rich, grounding mahogany. “Let me at least look at your back?”
He obliges, turning around and lifting his shirt slowly. He can hear the deep inhale, because he knows the reds on a pale canvas, dotted with beauty marks. Inflamed and angry, like fires that Daichi often fought at work on duty. He shivers ever so slightly when the pad of Daichi’s index finger traces the wound. “Let me take care of you, Suga. If you would let me.”
Koushi slowly drops his shirt, giving it a thought. “You know you don’t have to, right?”
“But I want to. And I’ve wanted you, the whole package, all of it. It’s going to be hard, I know, but what is love if not helping you to heal?” Daichi moves himself so now they’re seating across each other, a side of his mouth curled up. “And what am I if not for all the challenges I’m willing to take and the sacrifices I’m willing to make for you? If anything...you’re doing me a huge favour.”
Koushi is stunned, tracing his thumb over Daichi’s knuckles. “What favour would that be?”
“Giving me the gift of love.”
Koushi chokes on a sob at that, moving closer and hugging Daichi ever so gently, leaning his head into the crook of his neck. Musty, burnt firewood and gentle lavender fills his nose, he’s sure it’s a combination of his office and his body wash he uses. “Were you scared, watching all of that?”
“Terrified. I thought they would kill you, or I’d never see you again.”
Koushi moves back from the hug and places his hands to Daichi’s cheeks, brushing his thumbs to his cheekbones. “I’m sorry. I’m here now, as long as you’ll have me.”
“Don’t apologize for being in love.” Daichi’s lips curl into a slightly bigger smile now, arms around Koushi’s waist. “That said...move in with me, Suga. If I’m going to take care of you...then the first step will be to have you live with me. And then I can repay you for giving up your immortality for me by making sure you eat and get healthier again.”
All of it sounds perfect - living with a hunk of a man, getting to be around him all the time, coming home to him, and spending days and nights together. A place to call home...a place that has never meant this much until this. He doesn’t have much left, just some belongings and clothes, but otherwise, he doesn’t have an anchor tying him down to being an immortal anymore. Nobody to tell him what rules to respect, just the wind in his hair and his hands in someone else’s. To be cared for, to be held, and to be adored.
“Yeah,” Koushi agrees, leaning in to peck Daichi’s cheek, “Okay. I would love to.”
Daichi’s eyes light up. “Welcome home, then.”
Koushi laughs now, the ache distant from his mind.
Home.