Zephyr

There was a place that Adrian went on the outskirts of the city when he needed inspiration.

It was the shell of some old building - probably a factory of some sort. The roof and two of the retaining walls had fallen in at some point, but time and the elements had erased all traces of them. What were left were two parallel walls lined in beautiful brickwork arches.  Grass had grown up in place of a floor, soft and spongy like the sod rich people replaced their lawns with.  The best time to go there was in the spring, with a good breeze and fat clouds racing overhead. He liked to take his shoes off and stand in the center, toss his head back and just breathe.  It was like there, in this spot, he felt connected to something bigger than himself.

But that morning, there was someone else there.

He was standing on top of the right-hand wall, balanced precariously on the narrow strip of brickwork that kept it together. He had had eyes closed and his hands out and every so often the wind would pick up in a rolling gust and ruffle his fine strawberry-blonde curls. The man had beautiful long-limbed proportions with a statuesque face. Adrian's fingers curled around the casing of his camera, but he didn't move for a very long moment.

"You know," He spoke up at length, voice carrying almost harshly where there had once been nothing but wind. "That's probably very dangerous."

The man opened his eyes and craned his neck around in a way that reminded Adrian a little of birds of prey.  "Probably is," He shrugged a little, letting his eyes slip closed. "But I find that this world is best appreciated from a high vantage point."

"Why do you say that?"

A smile curled on sculpted lips. "Because I think that it's true."

Adrian frowned. "That's not what I meant."

"I know." He chuckled.

Annoyance flared up inside of him, hot for a moment before he managed to squash it down.  "May I ask your name?"

"You can ask," The man grinned again, cracking open an eye lazily. When Adrian looked a little closer he realized they were a rich umber and he found them a little startling.  "But I could decide not to tell you."

Adrian scowled. "But that would be anti-social."

A laugh echoed off the brickwork, and the man turned on his heel to face him. He brushed a hand through his hair. "I suppose it would." A smirk curled at the corner of his lips. "So I will make you a deal. I will stop being antisocial if you will just ask the question that's been burning on your tongue since you got here."

Adrian paused. He chewed on his lower lip for a moment, palms a little sweaty around the case of his camera. "Can I - " He cleared his throat a little. "Can I take your picture?"

The man grinned.



"I couldn't sleep last night," Adrian said, very matter-of-fact even though he was shivering inside his coat. "It's your fault."

The man smirked, umber eyes flashing below his lashes. "How so?"

The next morning had dawned misty, not enough to actually rain, but enough to have a little water dribble occasionally from the sky. But even so, Adrian ventured back out to the outskirts of town.  He found the man in the same spot as the day before, but this time he was sitting with his bare feet swinging in the chilly air.  There was dew clinging to the ends of his curls, making them dark and dripping.

Adrian fumbled in his coat pocket for a moment, before he produced a stack of photos.  The other man was in all of them, poignant and beautiful, but there was something off about them.  Around the shoulders there was a sort of wispy outline, the faint impression of something feathered. Picture after picture the outline showed up, too consistent to be a fluke of the lighting.

"You have wings," Adrian stated, gray eyes both accusing and horribly curious. "Like an angel."

"Not an angel," The man said, "But I do have wings."

"Why can I only see them in pictures?" Adrian asked.

"You could, if you looked a little harder." He shrugged. "But it's your perception of me that doesn't allow it."

"What does that mean?"

The man sighed. "Mortals have lost the ability to perceive us as we are. You have long since stopped having faith, and faith is the key to seeing the world in a new light."

"If no-one believes in you anymore, then how are you still around?" Adrian asked, a slight wrinkle forming between his brows.  

"Just because we are not prayed to doesn't mean we are not still part of this world," He rested his chin on his palm. "Once something has been made, it is difficult to unmake."

"Oh," Adrian said softly, mind spinning a little.

There was a long moment of silence in which Adrian was too busy chewing at his mouth to notice the eyes on him.

"Why did you allow me to see you?"

A smile curled on the man's lips.  He pushed himself up and off the wall, landing on his feet with heartbreaking grace.  "Because you still worship me." He said, slowly closing the distance between them.  "You don't know it, but you do.  Every time you come here just to feel the wind on your skin I see you." He looked slightly abashed, then, suddenly. "There aren't many left that appreciate it the way you do."

"Oh," Adrian said, eyes following the other man until he came to a stop in front of him.

"So I've come to give you a gift," He said, reaching up and cupping Adrian's face in his hands.  "Will you accept it?"

Adrian swallowed, but under the weight of that stare there was no other answer.  "Yes," He murmured.  

"Good," The man leaned in and kissed him. For a moment, it was like the world was on fire.  Electricity raced through him, all colors and swirling sound. It was a cacophony of noise and sounds and feelings until suddenly there was nothing.

Nothing but air.