What We Want to be Real

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 way about him; the way he stands is so casual, so friendly… something that Emil hasn’t been used to in a long time now.

He’s dressed in a French Soldier’s uniform, hands coated with dirt, hair a disheveled mess from being beneath a hat for quite some time. The man is dirty, but he’s inviting… something Emil finds comforting. 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 like scraping 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. Like 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 just 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.