Chapter Text
The arrow whistles as it shoots through the chilly autumn air directly toward a young man’s heart. It’s closing in—closer and closer—then it disintegrates before the pointed tip can sink into the man’s chest. The arrow crumbles as if it were made of sand, blowing away to nothingness in the breeze.
Yoongi lowers his small, golden bow to his side and stares at the place where the arrow disappeared. That’s never happened before. He grabs another arrow from the quiver on his back and notches it into his bow.
This time, Yoongi flies to a large branch on a tree and crouches down on it. The man has been casually strolling through the park with a small white dog on a leash, and had stopped while the dog sniffed something, so Yoongi had flown just above him and shot his arrow down. It’s not anything different from what he usually does, so what went wrong?
Yoongi watches the man carefully, waiting for him to wander further down the paved path and into the trees. The leaves around Yoongi are brittle and golden, scratching uncomfortably against his plush, white wings that are currently folded against his back. He stretches out one wing and it knocks a dozen dying leaves down. The human doesn’t notice, but his small dog yips at the disturbance.
The dog begins tugging its owner down the path, and Yoongi raises his bow and starts to draw back the arrow. He’s delicate with it. Not holding tighter or pulling harder than necessary. The young man is scrolling on his phone, but allows himself to be blindly pulled forward. Around the man’s head are a dozen differently colored halos—rings of dim, but pulsing light that spin and swoop around his head like the rings of planets.
The halos—like Yoongi and his arrows—are invisible to humans. When Yoongi found this human yesterday, he carefully read the energy of the rings and found that a possible Fated Match would encounter the human tomorrow. That is—this morning. It’s Yoongi’s opportunity to shoot both this human, and his Fated Match with an arrow and bring them together.
An arrow through the heart will bring love to them both.
The human finally pockets his phone and continues down the path, giving Yoongi a clear shot at his chest. The arrow flies. The arrow whistles.
The arrow turns to dust.
“What?” Yoongi hisses. His hands fly to load another arrow, and he shoots another off only for the same thing to happen. He tries again. Dust, dust, dust! They crumble likes the leaves beneath the human’s feet as he walks through the tree-lined path.
He readies another arrow, but the human has gone past Yoongi’s perch and now has his back to Yoongi. Before the human leaves the park, he’s going to encounter a Fated Match by the water fountain. Amidst a fog of blue and green energy in the man’s halo, Yoongi saw a distinct image of him encountering a young woman with black hair pulled back into a ponytail and a dimpled smile. That’s the key moment. He needs to shoot them before then, or right then, in order to lead them toward a happy fate. Perhaps Yoongi could shoot the Match first?
Yoongi's stomach twists. What if he can’t hit her either?
Yoongi straightens up and steps off the tree branch. His wings catch him, flapping up and down and carrying him through the air. He hovers above the human with the little dog, and sees the water fountain up ahead. The water is flowing through the three-tiered cement fountain in showers of sparkles and dancing with early morning light.
Yoongi perches on the top of the fountain, cool water flowing out across his bare feet, and searches the park for anyone else approaching. Sure enough, a young woman is running toward the fountain. A small, curly-haired dog is about six feet ahead of her, its leash trailing behind it through the dewy grass. Around her head are glowing, colorful disks. The energy of one of the halos is the same as the young man's. Blue and green. She’s his Fated Match.
Now all Yoongi has to do is hit her with an arrow.
She’s still running after her dog who is making a beeline for the fountain. Yoongi is no stranger to a moving target. He reaches for a fresh arrow, notches it in the string, and draws back the bow. He takes a deep breath as he stares down the line of the arrow and aims for the woman’s heart. He’s a Cupid. He’s been around long enough to see hundreds of Fated Matches find love. He’s hit much harder targets. He can do this.
Yoongi's arrow cuts through the air, directly toward the woman’s heart—and shatters in midair.
The feathers of his wings rustle and twitch anxiously. Something is seriously wrong. His whole purpose is to help people find true love, but now his arrows won’t strike? Now this pair may not realize they are meant to be.
Yoongi kicks off from the fountain and flies up into the air. The delicate, white sheet wrapped around his body ripples in the breeze. From his birds-eye-view, he watches the curly-haired dog find its way into the fountain and splash into it with delighted barks. The owner is crying out in distress. From the opposite side, the young man and his white dog are approaching.
The man raises his eyebrows in amusement, but takes a left and keeps walking. Leaving the woman behind. Their opportunity to meet, to Match, has passed them by. And it’s Yoongi’s fault.
This hasn’t ever happened before. He’s never failed at a mission. He gets assigned his person and finds their match and shoots them in the heart knowing he’s gotten two strangers to cross paths and connect. To begin falling in love.
Frustrated, Yoongi slings his bow over one shoulder and zips through the air. He ascends above Seoul, barely acknowledging the city coming to life beneath him. Trains and cars are humming past, lights flicker on in building windows, and the Han River stretches out to the horizon. Yoongi flies higher and higher until he bursts through a clump of wet, cold clouds and finds himself in the Clouds, home of Cupid Headquarters.
The Clouds is likely what most humans picture heaven as. Fluffy white clouds, pure white light, sweet scents, and dozens of beautiful Cupids bustling about. Some are in white togas or loose, flowing gowns, but many are practically nude. Cupids lounge on cloud cushions and chat with one another. They nibble on fresh fruits and chocolate and wine. Some Cupids play music—yes, harps. Others play chess, paint, or nap.
Yoongi flies right past them. Several Cupids turn their heads in annoyance at the wind his wings blow toward their faces, but he doesn’t have the energy to care at the moment.
Up ahead is Cupid Headquarters. It’s a campus of training buildings, offices, and everything else they need to help Cupids do their job. The buildings are soft, white, and burst up from the surrounding clouds. He finds the Assignment Center and finally touches down, standing on the pillowy clouds.
“Where is Seokjin?” Yoongi asks the first Cupid he sees.
“His office,” the Cupid points toward a back room with a golden pen from his cushiony, white desk.
“Thanks.”
Yoongi invites himself right into Seokjin’s office, and the door gently shuts behind him despite the strength with which Yoongi swung it.
Seokjin is sitting at his desk, a white feather quill moving quickly across a huge log book that always lives in his desk. His wings are stretched out wide, filling the entire wall behind his desk. Seokjin has some of the most impressive wings Yoongi’s ever seen. Huge, speckled with silver, and feathers that look to be carved by the gods. Much like Seokjin’s face—otherworldly handsome, even for the high standards of Cupids.
“So, you missed your targets.”
“I didn’t miss,” Yoongi hisses. He takes his bow and quiver off of him and slams them on the desk. “My arrows turned to dust. They disappeared. You know I’m a perfect shot—you know—”
“I know,” Seokjin looks up. His perfectly groomed black eyebrows are flat with concern as he suckles the end of his quill between his lips.
Yoongi’s wings seize up and fold in toward his back, retreating. They’re hiding. If Seokjin is being serious for once, then this can’t be good.
“Why can’t I do it?” Yoongi’s voice drops to a whisper as his hands curl into fists.
“I don’t know. We got notified that your assignment was incomplete, so I looked at what happened. They were a Fated Match, and they should have met at that fountain—you did everything right.”
“I know I did.”
“I need to talk to some Higher Cupids, some of the Elders, and I’ll see what I can find. I know Cupids have lost their juice before, but it’s one thing to be overworked and another to—well…” Seokjin sets down his quill. “Have your arrows disintegrate.”
“I have other Matches to make today,” Yoongi frowns. “What am I meant to do?”
“We’ll be reassigning them. For now, leave me your tools and go get some rest.”
“But—”
“Seriously,” Seokjin finally cracks a smile. “Or I’ll stuff you into a cloud myself.”
“Fine, but as soon as you know—”
“As soon as I know—” Seokjin rises from his seat and comes around his desk. He puts a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder to turn him and guide him toward the door— “I will fly my feathery behind to your place and bust in the door, okay?”
“Okay,” Yoongi agrees reluctantly. His wings sag in defeat.
Then he’s pushed out the door, and is left facing a sea of desks and Cupids at work on monitors and scribbling down notes.
Yoongi avoids the busy Cupid common areas and goes straight for his home. It’s not much. Just a round floof of cloud that glows in sunset colors. Every other home among the clouds looks like this. He steps inside, and basks in the comfort of it. Many Cupids take things from Earth that they enjoy—clothing, jewelry, food—but Yoongi takes rugs, tapestries, blankets. Anything to dampen the glowing cloud walls and floor. His cloud bed is covered in human pillows and sheets, and the rug beneath his toes feels firm and warm in comparison to the clouds. He’s not sure why he likes it this way, but something about it feels like a warm hug. The clouds alone feel more fragile. Like he might fall through them. And at times, they’re cold. The cloud creating his home emits a soft glow inside—lighting his space with the distilled sunlight.
If Yoongi were a human, then it would be far too early and he would be far too anxious to sleep right now. But he’s not. So when he lays down onto his blanket-covered cloud bed he sinks into it and it caresses him. Cool air and a darkening room eases Yoongi into rest.
The room brightening again—the cloud walls turning yellow-orange like the sunrise—is what wakes Yoongi. That, and the insistent tinkling sound of his door bell. Only Seokjin would be so rude as to disturb Yoongi like this. Though, in this case it isn’t so rude. It might be urgent.
Yoongi leaps out of bed and his wings flap to hurriedly carry him to the door. He opens it with a touch of his fingers and sure enough—Seokjin is there. He appears tall and menacing in the doorway. His usually smooth, black hair is fluffed and frazzled like he’s been running a hand through it. He wears only a white length of fabric knotted at his waist that hangs down past his knees. There is a gold band around one wrist shaped like feathers, which signifies his place in management of the Cupids rather than one on active duty.
“Let’s sit down,” Seokjin says simply and invites himself in. The door closes silently behind him and he folds his wings in politely.
Yoongi’s heart hammers in his chest. Besides this morning, Yoongi’s never seen Seokjin like this. Even when they’ve had hard conversations in the past, he always navigated them with sprinkles of humor. They take a seat on a couch that appears from the cloud floor and sit side by side. Around them, small holes appear in the walls and create a window to the outside. The distant sounds of harps and laughter filter in.
“The good news is that you’re not the first person this has happened to,” Seokjin gets right into it. He's trying to make direct eye contact with Yoongi, but Yoongi deliberately stares at Seokjin’s wings instead. He focuses on a shimmering silver feather. “And it can be cured.”
“Cured?“ Yoongi repeats. As far as he’s aware, Cupids don’t get sick. Ever.
“But they aren’t certain what it is, so I’ve been advised to ask you some questions before diagnosing the problem,” Seokjin says without addressing Yoongi’s confusion. The walls are a warm orange now, making Seokjin appear golden.
Yoongi swallows tightly. His wings are aching with how tense he’s holding them, but he can’t help it. Never before has he heard of something like this happening to a Cupid. What’s wrong with him?
“Now, I know we Cupids have impeccable manners, but I need you to be honest with me Yoongi. Even if it hurts my feelings, or may feel wrong, okay?”
“Alright,” Yoongi agrees. It’s confusing though—what is Seokjin suggesting? That Yoongi might have some radical opinions about Cupids? But what would that have to do with his arrows not working?
“Do you like being a Cupid, Yoongi?”
“Of course I do.”
Seokjin tilts his head.
“I do,” Yoongi repeats, and finally meets Seokjin’s rich, brown eyes. “I enjoy our freedom. I like bringing couples together. I like figuring out the best Match and when to Match people. I like being a Cupid.”
“Okay, good,” Seokjin’s lips turn up into a slight smile and his wings stretch out a little more. He’s relaxing, and it makes Yoongi feel better too. “Do you believe in Fated Matches?”
Yoongi opens his mouth to say yes—after all, he fires arrows into Fated Matches every day. But… The rings around humans’ heads show that humans have a dozen or more possible Matches out there in the world. They could be with any of those Matches and find love. And if there’s so many possibilities—well, there can’t really be a true love then. There isn’t a real soulmate if humans are perfectly compatible with many other humans.
It’s more than that though. Yoongi’s been a Cupid long enough to see hundreds of his Fated Matches fall in love, have kids, and live into old age still holding hands.
But there’s also been hundreds of Matches that don’t work out. Maybe, they got Matched at the wrong time in their life. Maybe the halos are only suggestions of Matches, and among them is one True one. Yoongi isn’t sure. And maybe the Cupids aren’t either. But he’s been taught that all the glowing rings represent a Fated Match—a True Love—but if that’s so…
“Why do some Matches not work?” Yoongi asks.
“You mean like today? When your arrows—”
“No, I mean,” Yoongi blows out a warm breath. “I check the logs, sometimes. I like to see how my Matches are doing. Or sometimes when I’m out, I’ll see Matches I made and… they won’t be together anymore. They got divorced, or broke up, or someone is cheating and the other person doesn’t know. Or it seems like, I don’t know. They aren’t in love. Maybe they’re still together, but not happily anymore. If they’re meant to be, then…”
Seokjin frowns, but not a single line or wrinkle appears on his flawless face as he does so.
“That’s just part of life, Yoongi. It’s part of human life.”
“But…” Yoongi looks down at his lap. “If that’s just life, then do the Fated Matches even matter? If they break up, was it ever True Love?”
Yoongi has wondered this before, for ages. Ever since he watched the first pair he Matched fall deeply in love, only for a decade later to go their separate ways. When he saw it back then, he thought he’d done something wrong. That he’d Matched the wrong people together. But no—their halos had the same energy. They were a Match. But then why…? Why?
Other Cupids have made plenty of Matches that don’t last forever, and they seem to think that’s just fine. Yoongi knows many who go on to re-Match the broken couples with some of their other Fated Matches. But it feels wrong to do that. Their love should have been sacred, but it’s broken so easily.
He’ll never forget the first black halo he saw appear above a human's head. When one of the Fated Matches fails—when the pair breaks things off for good, and their love is no longer there—the halos that connected them to each other die. It doesn’t glow. The ring doesn’t spin. It becomes black, hollow, and still.
“Yoongi,” Seokjin reaches out and pushes back a long, black strand of hair behind Yoongi’s ear. “Do you believe in True Love? Or… love at all?”
Yoongi stares out one of the open windows as Seokjin continues to stroke his hair. “I guess I don’t know anymore.”
There’s quiet for a minute. Yoongi's heart rate, strangely, has returned to normal. Admitting this to Seokjin—his friend and supervisor—is a relief. All he has are questions and doubts rolling around in his mind like waves carrying the debris of a wrecked ship—but still there is some peace to be found in finally confessing his confusion. What is love if not everlasting? If not pure? If not wholly good? What is love if it can die?
The blackened halos have left Yoongi with uncertainty over the years. Did it finally become too much? Is this what it means for a Cupid to be sick?
“Did anything happen recently to make you feel this way?” Seokjin’s tone is kind, gentle. He’s scooted closer now, and has wrapped his arm around Yoongi to pull him into his warm shoulder and chest for comfort. Yoongi melts into the press of bare skin. When he offers it, Seokjin is the best at making Yoongi feel better.
“I’ve seen dead halos for years,” Yoongi says. “But I’ve also seen Matched whose halos are alive and they still split up anyway. So many Matches don’t stay together, and it just makes it feel phony.”
Yoongi thinks back to last night. He got back from a day of work, and went to check his log of Fated Matches at Headquarters. Hundreds of pairs he’d stuck arrows into are listed in the book. And each time he solidifies a new Match, it appears in the log. The log shows images of the pairs, along with some basic status information that updates as necessary. “Matched.” “Dating.” “Married.” “Separated.” And worst of all, is when the status reads “Dark.” Meaning the pair now sport a black a ring around their head—a dead halo.
Last week, Yoongi had matched probably 20 pairs. And of them, half had gone from the Matched status to “Apart.” “Apart” could mean many things—but it essentially equates to a couple being Matched, they meet, but then they don’t stick together. They don’t exchange phone numbers, they don’t make a deep enough connection. Like a meet-cute that goes nowhere. And Yoongi’s entire job is ensuring Fated Matches meet and connect—but if it doesn’t last beyond that initial encounter, then they may never find each other again. Some do—they bump into each other again later down the line and that one sticks. But for Yoongi to see that half of his work from last week could lead to nothing, is disheartening. So he’d taken the log home with him, to hang onto and to watch over the Matches he makes each day.
Yoongi gets his log from a shelf near his bed, and shows it to Seokjin. He tells him about the Matches that didn’t stick, and about the dead halos he’s seen. Seokjin listens quietly, and when Yoongi is done Seokjin pulls Yoongi in for a proper hug.
“I think the Elders were right.”
“What’s wrong with me?” Yoongi’s voice breaks and he crumples into Seokjin’s arms. His bare skin is a welcome touch.
“A Cupid is meant to bring lovers together—and if you yourself don’t believe in love, then you can’t in good conscience do that,” Seokjin wraps his wings fully around them and squeezes Yoongi close to his body. “The Elders have a way to help you, but you’ll have to speak with them.”
“Okay,” Yoongi allows himself to be swaddled a few minutes more. He feels empty inside. What’s a Cupid without love?
Finally Seokjin releases him and smiles, slapping Yoongi’s shoulder playfully. “You know how long it took for me to get to meet the Elders? And now you get to just waltz right in!”
Yoongi laughs and shakes his head, “I know, it’s pretty unfair.”
“Well don’t think I’m letting you go alone now,” Seokjin raises his brows. “I’ve gotta tell them a new joke I’ve been working on. You’d be surprised how hard it is to get those Cupids to laugh.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to them for you,” Yoongi pats Seokjin’s thigh in mock-reassurance. With Seokjin acting like this, and a solution being promised to him, Yoongi has hope that it will all be okay. Maybe the Elders can explain dead halos and lost love to him and make him believe again.
For the rest of the day, Yoongi hangs on to that hope. He sees his friends Taehyung and Hoseok, and they all feast on human Korean food. It’s one of their favorite things from Earth. Taehyung talks about how he’s trying to get approval to get a dog up to headquarters, and Hoseok talks about a recent discovery he’s made with his research team. Hoseok has a golden band around his wrist that is shaped like interlocking hexagons—like honeycomb. His duty is to research human love behaviors, and learn ways that Cupids can more successfully bring matches together. His team found out about a perilla leaf phenomenon—and he’s excited to demonstrate it with Taehyung and Yoongi around the table.
Yoongi doesn’t tell them about what’s wrong. He explains his day off as simply finishing his assignments for the day early in the morning. The last thing he wants is for any of the other Cupids—even his closest friends—to learn that Yoongi can’t perform his duties anymore. Especially when it’s his fault. Cupids only know harmony. Ease. Their lives are structured and simple. Of course, some Cupids are ambitious or creative or inventive. They search for jobs like those of Hoseok or Seokjin. But no matter what a Cupid’s job is, one thing stays the same.
They’re bound to bring people together. Their role is to bring love to humans. To make Fated Matches happy. Yoongi has failed at his only job, and he doesn’t even fully understand why.
Seokjin joins them at the end of their meal, then tells the others that he and Yoongi need to go over the agenda for tomorrow’s Love Assignments. They excuse themselves from Hoseok’s cloud home and fly toward the Elder mansion. The clouds in the city are pink and blue now. They’re inside the cotton candy sunset the human city of Seoul is seeing from below.
The Elder mansion emerges from the clouds. It’s beautiful. Spiraling pillars, massive doors, high towers, and a roof that arches high then swoops downward. All made of pastel-colored clouds.
Yoongi hangs on to his hope that the Elders will have a solution to his ailment as they enter the front. He expects to enter some sort of throne room, be greeted by attendants or guards, but the mansion is seemingly empty. Seokjin seems to know the way though. Before long, they turn a corner and hear the sound of harps, flutes, and lutes. There’s chatter and laughter and it continues when Yoongi and Seokjin finally enter the room.
It’s a ginormous hall, with countless Cupids on cloud cushions. There are water fountains, the band playing, and trays of food and drink floating around to different groups of people. The Elders aren’t elected officials or anything. They are just like any of the other Cupids, but elderly. They’ve lived out a long life of Matching humans and are rewarded with rest and pampering in their old age. Some have gray beards down to their hips, others have shocks of white hair or no hair at all. The elderly are no less beautiful than the young Cupids. Their soft skin still glows, hair shimmers, and they barely clothe themselves.
Cupids aren’t shy at any age about showing off their bodies, or cuddling and showing affection to fellow nude Cupids. Tufts of clouds in the air carry women that lay on each other's breasts and braid one another's hair. The men sit with their legs latticed together and arms slung around their comrades, and everyone else a combination of both. The genders mingle effortlessly, playfully, comfortably. Safe here in their mansion, and relaxed after many tireless years at work.
“Now I see why you wanted to come,” Yoongi whispers to Seokjin.
He grins back at Yoongi, “If we’re lucky, they’ll invite us to join them for a while. These are the softest clouds in the sky, if you can believe it.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll be joining them here soon enough.”
“Aish, you’re hardly younger than me!” Seokjin knocks his wing into Yoongi’s and Yoongi drops down enough that his bare feet hit the cloud floor.
Seokjin snorts, but ends up following him down to the ground anyway. “We’re seeing an elder named Hyeja.”
Seokjin leads them around a fountain and the clouds laden with refreshments circle around them in offering before continuing on their path. Along the back wall of the giant hall are cushioned benches. An Elder with dark brown hair and smile wrinkles around her mouth and eyes sits in the center. She’s wearing a golden gown and a large, gold pendant around her neck. On either side of her and on the pillowy floor, other elders are listening intently to her speak. It seems that even in old age, they can still learn from one another.
The walls of the mansion have gone from the glow of sunset to a deep, purple-blue. Stars spill in from the windows and the water in the fountains take on a glow that is reminiscent of the moon. Despite the dim lighting, the elderly woman takes notice of Yoongi and Seokjin immediately.
“I’m sorry friends, I must attend to dear Seokjin and his troubled friend.”
The Cupids hum in understanding and break off into their own small groups. Hyeja bows to them all and carefully stretches out her wings. The most noticeable sign of aging on a Cupid isn’t their hair or skin, but their wings. Her wings are large and long, and entirely gray. There are patches where the feathers are missing or are thinned out. Elder’s wings are too weak to fly to the human world, and many can’t even use them here anymore. Instead, they walk or sit on cloud tufts that transport them around.
Though Hyeja’s wings are well aged, they’re still strong enough to lift her off the ground and over the heads of her friends.
She sets back down in front of Yoongi and Seokjin, and reaches up to pat Seokjin’s cheek.
“Did you return with a joke for me?”
“What do you call the pigeon god of love?”
Hyeja smiles, “I don’t know, what do you call the pigeon god of love?”
“Coo-pid,” Seokjin answers, putting emphasis on the first part of the word to make it sound light and bird-like.
Hyeja rolls her eyes and gives Seokjin a final pat, “I’ll need better than that. Why don’t you go think on it while I help out Yoongi?”
Yoongi looks up at Seokjin in alarm, then back down at Hyeja. A shudder runs through his wings. What if Seokjin was wrong? What if they can’t help him? What will Yoongi do if he can’t function as an Archer anymore? Is there another job they could assign him?
Seokjin steps away, gives Yoongi a reassuring nod, and then disappears to join a group of Elders who wave him over. The Cupid looks all too eager to leave Yoongi behind and join the others lounging.
Hyeja turns her attention to Yoongi. Her eyes are curved into a sweet smile, and her short hair is blown out and styled. She offers a hand to Yoongi, which he accepts.
“Let’s talk by the fountain, dear.”
They leave the group and head for the large fountain in the center of the room. They sit down on the edge of it, and a faint mist showers over them from the glowing spurts of water in the fountain. The water creates a steady hum that masks their voices.
“So Seokjin tells me you don’t believe in love anymore,” Hyeja says, still holding Yoongi’s hand. Yoongi can’t look away from her—forced to keep eye contact even as tears threaten to come forward. “And that your arrows weren’t working today.”
Yoongi sniffs hard and manages a— “Yeah.”
“Don’t feel bad, sweetie. It’s not your fault. It’s hard to believe in a kind of love you’ve never had—am I right? Most of us Cupids don’t have love the way humans do. We love each other as people, but not like Fated Matches do. But just because we don’t label it the same way here, doesn’t mean some of us haven’t found it.”
“I don’t think it’s because I haven’t loved that way,” Yoongi corrects her gently. “I think I’ve just seen too many of my Matches fail, or come to nothing, that it’s hard for me to believe they ever were in love, or could have True Love, at all.”
Hyeja nods and looks toward the other Cupids who have surrounded Seokjin. They’re cozying up to him and offering him grapes and Seokjin is reveling in it. They pat his cheeks and a couple run their hands through his young feathers.
“There aren’t any words I could use to make you understand what love is,” Hyeja says. A pressure forms in Yoongi’s chest, squeezing around his heart and working its way down to his lungs. “Which is why you will have to see for yourself. When I was a young Cupid, the same thing happened to me as is happening to you.”
Yoongi sits up a little straighter at this news. So he’s not alone. Hyeja had her arrows fail, but now here she is, a perfectly fine Cupid retired in the mansion. There is a way for things to go back to normal.
“How did you fix it?”
“Well, my dear,” Hyeja looks back at him and wraps one of his hands in two of hers. “They assigned me one human, sent me down to Earth, and I had to help him find love.”
“I do that all the time, though. And I can’t anymore, my arrows—”
“Not like that. They sent me down to Earth, and they took away my Cupid powers. I had to be a human to really understand.” Hyeja smiles at him, even though Yoongi is gaping in horror at her. “And when I finally saw what love is, they restored me to being a Cupid. And ever since then, I’ve understood humans and love far more deeply than I could have imagined possible. It opened up a new world to me.”
“And will I have to do that? Is that the only way?”
“It’s the only way we know.”
Yoongi presses his lips together. His mouth is dry, but his hands are clammy. Hyeja moves her nimble fingers to Yoongi’s wrist, where he has a plain, golden band around his wrist. There’s no engravings or symbols on it like Seokjin’s or Hoseok’s. He’s just a simple Archer Cupid. It’s been on his wrist as long as he can remember, and is too small to be pulled off or fall off his wrist. Hyeja encloses the band in her hands completely, her eyes closing.
She breathes deeply, and the golden amulet around her neck begins to glow. Then the palms of her hands do, the light sneaking out between her fingertips. Yoongi feels heat around his wrist where his band is—not burning, but humming with energy. When Hyeja removes her hands and the glowing fades, he sees that his golden band now has a clasp on it.
“When you’re ready to see what love is, remove the bracelet. You won’t be able to put it back on until your work down on earth is done.”
“Which human will I be assigned to?”
Hyeja’s eyes glimmer, “Don’t worry. That’s already been figured out. You’ll see.”
“Hyeja—”
“I must be going, dear,” the Elder stands and presses a gentle kiss to Yoongi’s forehead. “I’ll send Seokjin back to you. I’ll see you again when your task is completed.”
“I have more questions,” Yoongi says. He stands up, feeling desperate. He doesn’t want her to go. She seems to be the only one who can help him, couldn’t she just tell him what to do?
“You have to find the answers yourself.”
And with that, Hyeja spreads her gray wings and flies over to Seokjin. Seokjin disentangles himself from the other Cupids, nods at something Hyeja tells him, and then he finally returns to Yoongi’s side.
“Ready?” Seokjin asks, slinging an arm around Yoongi’s shoulders.
No, Yoongi wants to say. No, he will never be ready. Go to Earth? Lose his wings? Be without his bow and arrow? If his Cupid powers are gone, how can he possibly help anyone find a Fated Match?
Seokjin hugs Yoongi to his side with one wing as they walk out of the mansion, through the town, and finally to Yoongi’s cloud home. The home is a dark blue-black now. Stars sparkle in the sky and clouds above them.
Yoongi stares at his door, not wanting to go inside.
“Did she tell you?” Yoongi asks.
“Yes, I already knew.”
“How am I supposed to be human, Seokjin? How am I supposed to find love without my powers?”
“I don’t know,” Seokjin exhales deeply. “But I know you can do it. And isn’t the whole problem that you’re a Cupid that doesn’t believe in love anymore?”
“Ouch,” Yoongi grimaces.
“Sorry. But really, maybe you’ll have more luck when you’re not a Cupid.”
Yoongi looks down solemnly. His toes and heels have sunk into the cloud beneath them.
“Want me to stay with you tonight?” Seokjin asks. “Like old times?”
Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but he opens his door and scoops Seokjin inside with one powerful sweep of his wing. Before Seokjin was in management, they roomed together. A lot of the Archer Cupids do. But when Seokjin got promoted, Yoongi couldn’t imagine living with anyone else. So he’s been on his own in his little glowing cloud.
They get into bed without much fuss—the cloud growing larger to accommodate them both. Their clothing is lost to the floor and they wrap each other in their wings to create a cocoon of warmth. It’s better than the human blankets in Yoongi’s bed, which have been pushed aside for now. Bare skin against silky soft feathers. Their breathing syncs up and before long, they’ve nodded off to sleep. The walls darken almost completely as nighttime swallows them.
In the morning, the wall glows gold and white and the bed grows warmer and warmer until it stirs them both. Seokjin laughs at Yoongi’s pouting face and unwraps his wings from around them.
“You don’t wanna get up, sleepyhead?”
“No,” Yoongi groans and buries his face in some of Seokjin’s feathers.
“I have to get to work. And you…have somewhere to be.”
Yoongi reaches out and clutches Seokjin’s arms so he can’t get out of bed. “I can’t.”
“Yes you can,” Seokjin insists. In one movement, he’s suddenly standing and his wing has pushed Yoongi so that he’s sitting upright in bed now.
Yoongi frowns up at Seokjin.
“Don’t give me that look. Come on now.”
Yoongi sighs, and finally gets out of bed. He fetches a new length of fabric to cross over his body and then knots it in place.
“You know, you can’t dress like that on Earth.”
“I know,” Yoongi glares at him. “I’ve watched humans long enough to know that.”
Seokjin raises his hands in surrender.
“Sorry,” Yoongi mumbles. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
They wander to the entryway, and Seokjin forces Yoongi into another hug—which Yoongi accepts gratefully.
“What did Cupids play before the harp was invented?”
“Okay, nice moment is over,” Yoongi complains as he tries to escape Seokjin’s embrace.
“The heart strings!” Seokjin laughs squeakily into Yoongi’s ear and then lets him go. “You’ll miss me soon enough, Yoongi. You’ll be begging for my jokes.”
Seokjin doesn’t know how right he already is. But if Yoongi delays going too long, or thinks too hard about everything that will change when he removes this bracelet, then he won’t go.
Seokjin flies off to work, and Yoongi stands outside his door watching his friend go. He’ll have to trust Seokjin to tell Taehyung and Hoseok where he’s gone to. Yoongi looks around at the clouds lit by dawn. Cupids are quietly milling about, with bows and quivers over their shoulders. They will have new assignments for the day—new Matches to make. Usually that would also be Yoongi.
He takes a deep breath of pure, clean air and stretches out his wings behind him. His feathers come to life, moving in waves in the gentle breeze and reflecting sunlight. They flap hard and Yoongi soars up into the sky, higher and higher. Usually he goes down through the clouds—toward Seoul to find his human target. But he wants to be alone when he takes the band off. Alone when what gives him purpose in life is stripped from him completely.
Eventually, he’s surrounded by wispy white clouds and a brightening sky. The sun is on the horizon—peaking over distant hills. He can see the city from here—but it’s tiny.
Yoongi’s wings push down against the wind to hold him in place. His white sheet flaps around his thighs. The golden band on his wrist seems to be glowing again. Yoongi shuts his eyes and basks in the cool air on his face. The sun rays warm his cheeks. He feels for the clasp on the bracelet and hears it click open. The band falls into his hand, off his wrist, and he squeezes the metal tightly.
Nothing happens. Yoongi looks down at the bracelet in his hand, which is heating up again and reforming into a solid ring—too small for him to slide back on his wrist.
Then he’s falling. His wings can’t catch the air. It’s whistling by in pinks and golds and wet clouds. He’s tumbling down, the light fabric on his body the only protection from the cutting wind. Yoongi can’t even find the breath to scream as he falls toward the Han River.
The colors begin to whirl faster around him, and a tornado of clouds seems to wrap around him. Images flash by, sounds—and instructions.
Your name is Min Yoongi.
You are a human. You are 29 years old. You work at a music shop.
Your new roommate is Jeon Jungkook.
Jungkook is 25 years old. He doesn’t believe in love anymore.
To return home, you must find love.
Yoongi realizes the voice he’s hearing Hyeja—sweet, calm, simple. He clings to her every word. It’s like she said the night before—he must find love, for the human. Before him, the clouds form the face of Jungkook—he has slightly curly black hair down past his chin, large front teeth, notable cheekbones and sharp jaw, and deep, round dark eyes. He’s beautiful—but not flawless the way a Cupid is.
The glowing clouds around him go dark and Yoongi’s eyes are forced shut by increasing wind speeds. His mind is flooded with knowledge—like the kind he receives when he reads the energy of human halos. In seconds, he learns about his assigned human job, where his apartment is, and understands the loosely fabricated story that will cloak his sudden appearance in Seoul.
Yoongi’s body lurches as his feet hit solid ground. He blinks his eyes open, and they adjust quickly. He’s standing in front of an apartment building’s intercom system. With him, is a few suitcases and a backpack over his shoulders. He realizes he’s wearing clothes—and shoes! Leather slip-on sandals and a white shirt and pants that are thin and flowing. This isn’t really appropriate human-wear either, especially for autumn, but Yoongi is grateful to not be constricted by tight clothing for now.
Yoongi presses the buzzer for apartment 213. As he waits, he shifts from foot to foot. The shoes really are uncomfortable. But he supposes humans don’t get to walk on clouds all day, so they serve a function.
Bikes and pedestrians pass by on the narrow street the apartment is nestled into. It’s at the bass of a hill that gradually slopes upward. Grasses and weeds grow out of the cracks in the road, and though the buildings lining it are just as worn out—they’re lively. Even early in the morning. There’s a corner store whose open sign has just flickered on. Shop owners are hosing down the outside of their shops or starting to put up displays, and birds fly from power line to power line before gathering in a small park up the road to pluck bugs and worms off the ground.
Yoongi isn’t sure how long has passed, but it feels like the human should have responded on the intercom by now. So Yoongi presses the button again, waits, presses it again, gives a few more minutes, and buzzes once more.
A crackling sound comes from the speaker, “Who is it?”
Yoongi bends down toward the speaker, not sure where this device is picking up his voice. “Sorry, this is Min Yoongi? Is this Jungkook?”
“Fuck, yeah. New roommate?”
“That’s me,” Yoongi affirms.
“I’ll be down in a minute. I wasn’t expecting you at 7 a.m.”
The crackling cuts out. Yoongi knows time is more important to humans than it is to Cupids. He’ll have to figure out the proper customs while he’s here. 7 a.m. is early in the morning—he’ll need to remember that. He gets it though. He hates being woken from his slumber, but for Cupids time doesn’t matter the same way. His schedule is his own, as long as he doesn’t neglect his duties.
Now his only duty is to help this human boy find love.
He hears a muffled ding, and moments later the guy he saw in the images—Jeon Jungkook—is pushing open one of the building doors. He’s squinting his eyes, and his hair is a fluffy mess.
Yoongi realizes this is the very first time a human has seen him. Has looked at him. Yoongi may not be as magical as normal—but still. A human and him are on equal footing for the first time.
He offers a smile to Jungkook, which he has to fight to keep up when he notices something wrong. No halos. No glowing disks around his human target's head to read. Of course there aren’t. Yoongi’s human now—he can’t see them.
So how will he be able to find a Fated Match for the human?