One day, the Angel–named Emil–is left alone in the cage that he spends all of his time

in. The metal bars dig into his knees and the chains around his wrists and ankles rattle with each

movement, catching on his skin and scraping it raw.

There’s dried blood on his back, infected wounds all over his skin and Emil thinks

there is nothing worse than this. Even Hell itself is a better fate.

At one point he thinks he can see the figure of a tall, slender man leaned up against

the corner of the room. He has a familiar look about him; the way he stands is so casual, such

a friendly manner… something that Emil hasn’t seen in a long time now.

The man in the corner is dressed in a French Soldier’s uniform, hands coated with

dirt, hair a disheveled mess from being beneath a hat for quite some time. He is dirty, but

inviting… something that brings Emil comfort. Still there is this familiarity about him and

the Angel whimpers, reaching out a chained hand to try and grasp at him.

Alas, he is too far.

The man steps forward, just in reach of the cage and he crouches down in front of the bars,

reaching a hand through to touch Emil. His fingers are gentle across his wrist and the Angel lets

out another whimper, trying to scoot closer into the touch, so deprived of it. Now that the man is

closer, Emil does recognize him… they fought together, so long ago now it feels like.

“Ludvig…?” Emil’s voice is hoarse from lack of use; he isn’t sure the last time he’s had

a proper drink of water either and speaking feels as if it scrapes his throat raw.

“Gosh, Emil. Didn’t recognize me?” The man has a playful smirk on his lips and

 

Emil huffs a tired chuckle, glancing down at the wood panels beneath the cage. “No… no,

not at first. How did you– how did you find me?”

“We always find each other, Emil… don’t we?” Ludvig tilts his head with a small

smile, and the Angel nods. Ludvig keeps brushing his fingertips gently across the skin of

Emil’s forearm, but Emil can’t actually feel anything. It’s odd, but…

“Yeah, I guess so. Ludvig, can you…” Emil chokes on a breath, lips parted as a tear

falls down a dirt stained cheek. “Can you let me out?”

“Let you out?” He laughs, shaking his head. “What do you mean?” The question

confuses Emil, because how clear could he even be?

“Of the… the cage, Ludvig, what else?” His voice sounds so weak and there is

that confusion laced in it as he watches Ludvig, who just stares at him with a mostly

blank expression.

“Are you playing jokes on me, Emil? There’s no cage.” Ludvig chuckles, and all of a

sudden the Angel is being wrapped in a warm hug and Ludvig is right– there isn’t a cage, not at

all. Instead they are in a grassy field sitting comfortably beneath a willow tree, the wind

blowing gently through their hair. Emil tilts his head to look up at Ludvig, who leans down to

capture Emil’s lips in a gentle kiss. It isn’t warm, isn’t cold… just a kiss. Emil chooses not to

focus on the fact he cannot feel it, instead just running his fingers up through the light brown

strands of Ludvig’s hair.

“No cage… I’m free?” Emil says it like a question, looking around at the grass

around them, taking in the leaves scattered throughout the field and the windmill turning

several feet

away. Emil feels a relief that takes the weight off his shoulders, leaning into Ludvig tiredly.

Finally, he’s done fighting. He’s safe.

 

… But is he? Still even this close Ludvig’s touch feels distant, like something he craves

so badly but is just out of reach. No matter how hard Emil tries, he will never quite reach

through the bars and grasp a friendly hand. The Angel looks upward at Ludvig, squinting in the

sunlight. Something feels… it feels off, and Emil isn’t sure why.

Ludvig looks real— sounds real even but he doesn’t feel real. Emil’s lips part and he

lets out a quiet breath, brown eyes tracing every line of Ludvig’s face as if committing it to

memory. “Ludvig…”

“Yes, Angel?” Emil smiles at the nickname, rubbing at his knee; the action hurts but not

his knee, his wrists. They hurt, sitting here with nothing hitting up against them— they hurt.

“You’re not real… are you?” Emil chokes on the words, more tears rolling down his cheeks.

Ludvig notices and wipes them away, concern clear in his gaze. He doesn’t say anything for a

moment, holding Emil’s face in his hands and then suddenly they are back in that room… Emil

back in that cage. Ludvig is on the outside of the bars, holding them gently as he had been

holding Emil’s face.

He frowns again, leaning closer to the bars as he watches Emil. “… You want me to

be.” The words strike through Emil like a knife to the heart. He didn’t want to be right. “I need

you to be.” Emil cries, and it hurts his throat. “I need you to be,” He starts repeating this like a

mantra, rocking forward in the cage with blood dripping down his forearms from the wounds

around his wrists, having reopened them with the constant movement of his chains.

“Emil… Emil, I’m not, but– you’ve gotta hold on. One day I will be and we don’t want to

miss that, right?” Ludvig, or this mirage of him, tries to reassure Emil, still holding onto the

bars of the cage. His image is starting to get fuzzy, slowly starting to fade into the

background, and Emil watches as he flickers in and out of his vision. Not real… not real.

It’s just another reminder and Emil sobs, reaching his hand out to try and grasp the

 

other but the reach is too far. “Don’t leave me… don’t leave me alone here, I can’t do this

without you.” He hiccups, voice still weak.

“I’m not real, Emil. You have to help yourself.” Ludvig is slowly fading out now, the

more Emil fully realizes that Ludvig really is in fact not there. He sniffs, looking down for a

moment. “O-okay… okay.” Emil isn’t sure if he could, but he has to. He will, for this visage

of Ludvig that his mind conjured up. He’s about to say something else when he looks up,

noticing that Ludvig is gone and Emil is once again left alone in the cage, with nothing but his

overwhelming thoughts.

Grief, sadness, anger… pain. He feels so much all at once and the only way Emil

can deal with it right now is by curling in on himself, forehead to the ground and knees

tucked beneath him as he sobs into the wooden floor.

Emil will wait. He will wait until the day that Ludvig being there is real, and that’s

what will keep him going.

Seeing the love of his life again…

… For real this time.